The Autumn War Vol. 02: Remnants

"So they told me," Miqi replied. "Apparently, the off-worlders have found a means to domesticate them. We'll keep an eye on it all the same, don't worry."

"At least they're housing them in the storage area and not near the living quarters," another of the women grumbled, helping one of her companions carry a wooden crate filled with jars of preserved food. "We're about done here, Miqi."

"Nice work," she replied. "Get that stuff into storage."

The four Valbara'nay hurried away, giving the group a wide berth as they wheeled their squeaking cart down the corridor.

"We've cleared out one of the storage rooms for you to live in during your stay," Miqi explained as she gestured to the open door. "It's not much, but I think you can appreciate how limited our resources are. It's out of the way, so nobody will bother you," she added. Xipa got the impression that they were more concerned about the team bothering the locals.

"They're putting us in a storage closet?" Fletcher grumbled as he leaned inside to get a look. "I hope one of you doesn't mind sleeping on top of Gustave."

"There will be guards stationed by the door that leads to the rest of the plant," Miqi explained, Xipa giving her a quizzical head tilt. "For your safety and ours."

"And, if we want to leave?"

"Ask one of the guards, and they will fetch an escort for you."

"I understand," Xipa said. It was obvious now that they were prisoners in all but name.

Once Miqi had left, Xipa explained the situation to the rest of the team.

"I feel like we're the only ones around here who need rescuing," Bluejay grumbled.

"Yeah," Fletcher muttered in agreement. "I'm kind of feeling like an EMS responder who just got shivved by a junkie over here. Next time someone asks me to save a Valbaran, I'm gonna ask if they have access to improvised weapons first."

"This is going to work out," Xipa insisted, trying to reassure them. "Just have a little patience. It's like when we met Bluejay," she added, gesturing to the Bug as he blinked back at her in surprise. "We were all skeptical of him at first, but we came to accept him once we knew him better."

"Fuck, did we learn a moral lesson?" Fletcher added with an exaggerated grimace of disgust. "I'd better get hazard pay for this bullshit."

"We should unload our gear, then we can figure out what to do next," Ruza said as he made his way into the room. The rest of the team followed after him, Xipa stepping through the door to see the now-empty storage area. It was spacious, at least as far as underground bases went, large enough to fit them all comfortably. The empty shelves on one wall had been left there, presumably so that they had a place to store their equipment, while the bunks took the form of a pile of blankets and pillows that had been tossed against the far wall in a heap. Of course, as a flock, the Valbara'nay expected them to sleep together in a pile.

"Let's get some sleep," Fletcher said, tossing his pack onto one of the shelves. He began to pull out his sleeping bag, unrolling it onto the cold floor. "We'll figure out what to do in the morning."

CHAPTER 4: DAY AT THE BEACH

"Please call the Russians and ask them why the Pavlov has turned an eighteen square kilometer patch of forest into a parking lot," Vos muttered, watching the railgun barrages on his feed. "They do realize that we're here to take the moon intact, right?"

Fielding entered the observation deck, approaching from behind him, Vos turning off his holographic display with a wave of a gloved hand. He greeted the captain, the two of them taking a moment to watch the red forests roll past beyond the windows.

"How goes the campaign?" Fielding asked, passing the admiral a steaming mug of coffee. Vos took it, giving him a grateful nod before taking a long draw.

"Progress is steady," he replied, turning back to the scrolling feed of battlefield reports. With another gesture, he brought up a floating representation of Kerguela, the three-dimensional hologram flickering as it hovered in the air. The moon's surface had been split into color-coded sections, and there was a cloud of IFF tags floating around it. Fielding leaned in a little closer, noting the dotted lines that gave some idea of where the various battalions were landing. "It's a little difficult to keep track of sixty-four assault carriers, but the operation has been running smoothly. They've been running raids around the clock, striking ground targets and infrastructure, using their mobility to keep the Bugs on their toes."

"How is the enemy responding?" Fielding asked.

"There's not a lot that they can do. Despite their numbers, they can't be everywhere at once, and there's no way for them to get advanced warning of our attacks after we destroyed their global comms. In some regions, we're just burning crops and collapsing tunnels for no strategic reason other than to divert their attention and stretch their resources. Friendly casualties have been within expected parameters, except in very specific areas," he added as he waved his hand through the hologram. It shifted, displaying a handful of small, red circles.

"What are those?" Fielding asked, walking around the wavering globe.

"One of the UNNI agents assigned to the mission ran a statistical analysis of the raids that saw the highest casualties and the toughest resistance," he explained. "She correlated the highest results from the data set, and what do you know, they create a very distinctive pattern that's confined to specific regions."

"The Kings?" Fielding suggested, Vos giving him a satisfied nod.

"There's one in each of the five regions, and by using the data that the agent provided, we can track their previous movements. It's a reasonable guess that they're traveling in the company of large entourages that are able to respond more rapidly and with considerably more lethality to any battalions that happen to make landfall nearby. Most of them have been trying to protect vital infrastructure targets. We just had to pull the Musketeer's battalion back into orbit after they encountered stronger than expected resistance at a tunnel nexus in the green zone. We suspect that the Green King launched a counter-offensive. By the time we brought in orbital assets, they were already gone."

"Then, we're honing in on them," Fielding mused as he examined the display. "Every time they mount a counter-attack, we'll be able to see where they are."

"And to think that they told me Polar Borealans would make terrible spies," Vos said, chuckling to himself. "The longer the campaign goes on, and the more we force them to react to our incursions, the easier it will be to pinpoint their locations. We just have to keep hammering them."

"What about the Queen?" Fielding asked, glancing over at the admiral. "Do we have any idea of where she might be yet?"

"No," he sighed, shaking his head. "She's their most valuable asset, so we expected her to be well hidden. The plan right now is to focus on the Kings first. Once they're all taken out, the zones they're responsible for will fall into chaos with no command structure to keep them organized. That should make hunting down the Queen an easier prospect."

"She'll have control over her own region," Fielding warned. "Those things are wicked smart."

"Nothing we can't handle," Vos replied. "We've killed Queens before. That's what the Trogs specialize in."

"I see that you're assigning another mission to the Omaha," Fielding said, pausing by one of the data feeds. "How's that ghost company of yours doing?"

"I don't believe in luck, but I do trust my gut," Vos replied. "Delta company has proven themselves to be unusually survivable. I think they're prime candidates for some unconventional field work."

"What did you have planned?"

"The Valbaran captains that the Ensi left in charge before she departed on her field trip are just as stubborn as she is," Vos grumbled. "They've located a prime target - a biofuel plant in the blue zone that seems to be manufacturing a good chunk of the enemy's fuel supplies - but they insist on taking it out themselves. I managed to convince them to let me send a battalion to support them, and the Omaha is my first choice. Destroying the plant from orbit would pose a serious environmental hazard, so the site will have to be secured from the ground before being safely decommissioned."

"This should be interesting," Fielding said, gazing down at the swirling clouds below. "Do you think the raid will force the Blue King to play its hand?"

"We won't know until they respond," Vos replied. "I'll make sure we have assets available to support them if big blue makes an appearance."

***

"So, what was it like?" Hernandez asked. He leaned a little closer to Evan, sliding his metal dinner tray across the table noisily. It was early morning, and the mess hall was packed today. The companies that had been deployed to the ground had returned the night before, and rumors were already circulating that they were going to be redeployed soon.

"I don't know if she'd want me telling you," he replied, keeping his voice low. "It's kind of...personal."

"Come on, man," Hernandez complained. "You might be the first guy to ever make it with a Jarilan. You gotta understand my curiosity, at least."

"I'll tell you one thing," Evan continued, giving him a friendly nudge. "Your advice was spot-on. Neither of us really knew what to do, but we kind of...felt our way through it together, and it all worked out."

"Of course it did," he chuckled, settling back into his chair. "How do you think I even survived a night with a Borealan? I know what the ladies want, man, be they scaly, furry, or covered in shell."

"Uh-huh," Evan replied with a smirk. "It went well, I'll leave it at that."

"I know it went well, 'cos you guys were gone all night," Hernandez added as he chewed on a spoonful of creamed corn. "Where is the lucky lady, anyhow?"

"She's gone to pick up a new chest piece," Evan explained. "They have to make them to spec, so she has to wait for her carrier to ship her a replacement every time one gets damaged."

"What, do they grow 'em in a vat or somethin'?"

"I dunno," Evan replied with a shrug. "They're made to fit each individual Drone."

Loud footsteps drew Evan's attention, and he turned his head to see Tatzi striding over to them, the smaller Marines making way for her. She sat down beside Hernandez, slamming a metal tray piled high with what looked like roasted meat onto the table, ringing it like a gong. Her chair was spring-loaded, her weight sinking it down to a more reasonable height, bringing her just about level with her neighbors. She began to stuff her face noisily, taking large, wet bites of something that resembled a leg of mutton. Hernandez sank into his seat as she reached over to ruffle his hair with a hand that could have encompassed his skull, a gesture that was at once rough and affectionate.

"Eat more," she insisted, hooking one of the slabs of meat in her sharp claws. She deposited it on his tray, splashing his coveralls with droplets of grease. "You cannot fight on such a meager ration."

"What even is that?" he wondered, giving the juicy meat a prod with his fork.

"Good meat," she replied, taking another bite pointedly.

"If you insist," he muttered, struggling to carve off a piece with his plastic fork.

"Evan," Tatzi said, her low voice enough to make his bones shake. "You shared your bed with Jade last night, did you not?"

He almost choked on his meal, sputtering as he tried to compose himself.

"W-who told you that?" he demanded, red-faced.

"Her scent is on you," the Borealan explained, pausing to chew. "This is good. A Borealan pack is tightly-knit, bonded. Our team will grow stronger because of it."

"Always with the scent," Evan muttered to himself as he stared at his tray, wide-eyed. "Gotta take a fucking shower every five minutes around here."

There was a beep from his wrist, Evan looking down at his device to see new orders scrolling across the display. After a moment, Hernandez and Tatzi got them too, the Borealan grumbling as she wolfed down another mouthful of meat.

"I just sat down. Can it not wait even a moment?"

"That's us," Evan said, rising to his feet. "We'd better get our gear and report to the stern gate."

"Any idea where we're goin'?" Hernandez asked.

"Nowhere good," Tatzi growled.

***

Jade returned while the team were donning their equipment, a pair of almost identical Jarilans following her into the armory. The more time that he spent with her kind, the more Evan had started to notice the small details that set them apart, letting him pick Jade out easily. The shapes of their branching horns seemed random at first, but they were just as identifiable as a human face once one knew what to look for. There were also subtle differences between their facial features, the sizes of their antennae, and the colors of their eyes. Presumably, they'd all have different colors of carapace if it wasn't for the camouflaged paint that covered them from head to toe, too.

Everyone greeted them save for Foster, who stood conspicuously apart from the rest of the team, turning away from the newcomers as he secured his ceramic chest piece. The two new Jarilans seemed surprised by the relatively friendly welcome, Jade giving them a satisfied glance as if to say I told you so. She made her way over to Evan, giving him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He could tell that she wanted to embrace him, but not in front of the others, even though most of them probably knew about their burgeoning relationship already.

"Glad you made it," he said, slotting on his helmet. "I thought we might have to leave without you."

"Jarilans are always on time," she chuckled. "This is Aster and Cardinal. They're filling in for my old team."

"Hey, we finally got some reinforcements," Hernandez said as he fastened the straps that held his shin plate in place. "You can never have too many Jarries."

"Happy to help," the one named Aster said with a nod.

Jade helped Evan put on his chest rig, securing the straps over his armor, using all four arms in tandem. It gave her an excuse to get closer so that they could whisper to one another.

"I see you got your new chest piece," he said, Jade's antennae brushing against his visor as she fastened one of the clips on his harness. "Try to keep this one intact for more than one deployment."

"You weren't complaining about me wearing that tank top last night," she chuckled, her fingers skirting his crotch as she gave his belt an exaggerated tug to tighten it. "You were complaining even less about what was underneath it."

"Maybe save that kind of talk for when we have a private channel," he chuckled. "I'm pretty sure the Borealans can still hear us."

"They can smell me on you anyway," she replied with a smirk, sliding his sidearm into its holster in a way that was oddly suggestive. "Can't hide anything from their noses."

"Yeah, I found that out the hard way over breakfast."

Hernandez leaned in to interrupt them, sliding open his visor.

"If you two are done makin' out, we got a dropship to catch."

***

Sergeant Simmons joined them at their IFV as it waited on its sled, now fully repaired after its brush with the Warrior. It was oddly fitting that even the squad's vehicle had taken hits and had come straight back to the fight. Evan's gloved hand moved to the back of his neck, feeling the outline of his implant through his pressure suit as he mulled over the idea.

"Is your implant hurting?" Jade asked, using a private channel through their helmets.

"Nah," he replied, moving his hand back to his weapon. "I was just thinking about how our IFV is a real part of the team now. It's about as busted up as the rest of us."

The vehicles in front of them were loaded onto the dropships one by one, the team jogging alongside the IFV when their turn came up. It slid along the rails in the deck, slamming into place inside the vessel's troop bay. They went through the practiced routine of securing themselves into their seats, the craft breaking away from the carrier, starting to fall towards the moon's surface.

The anxiety that Evan usually felt during a drop was somewhat muted now. He had so much more to lose since the last time they had set foot on Kerguela - so much had happened in the interim - yet the night that he had spent in Jade's company had filled him with a kind of vigor. The threat of death was ever-present. He could meet his end today, and he didn't even want to consider what might happen if Jade got hurt, but there was a kind of catharsis in having already expressed everything that he had wanted to tell her. Everything was square, and he could march into battle without any regrets. It was a wonderful and somewhat novel feeling to not be wishing that he'd had the courage to make a move, or that he'd missed an opportunity that he should have taken.

"Bit of a late briefing on this one," Simmons said, his voice coming through Evan's helmet radio. "We're being deployed to an island on the equator where Fleetcom has located some kind of fuel depot. Our job is to take it intact, because it'll blow sky-high and dump toxic chemicals into the environment if they try to knock it out from orbit. We're supporting the Valbarans, so watch your IFF tags."

Turbulence buffeted the dropship as they hit the upper atmosphere, deceleration pressing Evan into the padding of his seat, the main thrusters shaking the deck beneath his feet. He felt the craft touch down with a thud, the ramp dropping like a ton of bricks to let bright sunlight flood into the bay. The IFV slid down the rails on its sled, kicking up a cloud of white sand, the squad leaping to their feet as they followed after it. Brooks, Donovan, McKay, and Garcia fanned out ahead of them, Borzka and Tatzi bounding down the ramp after them. Jade and her two new counterparts came next, followed by Simmons, Evan, and Hernandez, with Collins and Foster bringing up the rear. They covered the three vehicle crewmen as they climbed into the IFV, its engine roaring to life.

Evan glanced down the beach, his visor tinting automatically to shield him from the sun. They were standing on the shore of a large island, a band of pristine, white sand curving into the distance in both directions. It was big enough to make a suitable staging area for the dropships, some of them rising into the sky on plumes of flame as more descended, the familiar sight of tanks and transports freeing themselves from their sleds as they drove out onto the sand greeting him. Gentle waves lapped at the beach behind them, a few more islands visible on the horizon.

Their dropship took off again, creating a miniature sandstorm that made Evan glad of his helmet, the airborne grains whipping against his armor. When he turned to watch it climb, he noted that the sand had turned to glass beneath its four downward-facing thrusters, leaving a perfect pattern of shining craters.

Ahead of them was more forest, the plants here adapted to the equatorial environment. They resembled giant ferns and cycads with stout, prickly trunks. Their leaves branched out in wide fronds like those of palm trees, but their red and orange hues shattered that illusion pretty quickly. As always, the gas giant dominated the sky above them, bands of bright green and blue auroras streaking across the heavens. It would have been a view straight out of a dream if not for the tank companies that were assembling around them, their treads churning up the beach.

"I thought this planet didn't have any oceans?" Hernandez said, Evan's helmet dampening the chorus of revving engines so that he could hear him.