EVE-Mag.com

Vengeance of the State – Part 3

Published on 15. Nov, 2009 ... written by Jaret Kosht, Tags: Articles, Fan Fiction

Picture credit: Wotlankor

In an innocuous forest on Caldari Prime, a strange sound can be heard. It first starts of with rumble that slowly grows to roar. Trees are knocked aside and vegetation is crushed as the roars rise to crescendo. An MTAC steps through the brush, swatting aside an ancient tree. It scans the area and then gives an all-clear signal. Squads of elite Gallente Security Force Kommandoes, push through the vegetation, their rifles sweeping the area around them. Behind them more MTACS and Kommandoes work their way through the forest, carefully making their way to reclaim the Orbital Cannon Control facility.

Admiral Jorus Fringer, watched the progress of his troops courtesy of the command implant that was buried somewhere in his temporal lobe. Safely cocooned in the command room of a gigantic armored command vehicle, he organized and controlled the squads as they made their way through the forest. Responding to an alarm raised at the facility, he had been distressed to find no response to his queries to their status.

However what troubled him even more, was the fact that no one at High Command seemed to respond to his alerts. He had contacted his fellow officers and they too confirmed what he was experiencing. It seemed that none of the command staff were available.

Tucked away in the hallways of High Command, a normally busy room was filled with dead silence. Instead of the hustle and bustle that normally filled this room, there hung the aura of death. At a table at the centre of the room, 10 bodies sat slumped in their seats. All the corpses on them had a variety of expression that ranged from shock, rage and fear. Some of their hands clutched at their necks, others gripped the handles of the seats, in a desperate bid to escape the room of death.

A young lady, dressed in revealing clothes that proclaimed her beauty, moved through the room. She was fitted with a re-breather mask, and hidden behind it her lips curved into a deadly smile. In her hands she gripped a handgun and with it she walked up to each body and put a round in its forehead. A small tattoo at her delicate nape of her neck identified her as being one of Heth’s provists.

She had been the ‘surprise’ for the generals. A large cake in the center of the room, gave a clue to her arrival. When she had burst through the cake, she watched as the surrounding generals expression of lust and desire soon gave way to shock and horror, as she triggered the release of the poison gas. Were it not for the boosters she had taken and the re-breather mask she wore, she would have joined the generals in their death.

In her former life she had been a stripper, desperate for cash and drugs that would ease the pain and trauma. That was before she met Heth. The man, through his words and actions had inspired her to join his Provists and since that day she had never looked back. With the Provist,s she now worked for something that was bigger than her, bigger than her life nay her very soul. True there had been times they committed acts that the State would have frowned upon. True there were times when they worked with pirates, thieves and murderers. But it had all been for the moment when they could guide the State towards greatness and power. Caldari Prime was only the first step and soon the entire world of New Eden would soon rue the day that they ignored the State.

Captian Prashesh Kobai, watched through his scope as the Gallente Security Force Kommandoes moved through the underbrush and approached the facility. While their camo suits would usually render them virtually invisible to the naked eye, on thermal view they showed up as bright as day. With a near silent whisper, he ordered his lieutenant to activate the mines.

Without a sound a thousand packages of death and mayhem activated, their sensors now primed to detect human or mechanical movement. While landmines were officially banned under the Concord Convention of Warfare, the Pathfinders felt that point was moot. They had already executed any Gallente wounded, so detonating a few thousand landmines really wasn’t going to make a difference.

A Gallente MTAC, at the head of the formation, marched through the forest. Durasteel legs pounded through the forest, as its sensors corrected its placement for the curvature of the forest floor. Gatling guns, mounted on its arms, sweeped, the area in front of it, in 90-degree arcs. It operator, thanks to his implant, was fed a variety of sensory and tactical information. Dull green armor plates, covered the mechanical behemoth, protecting vital components.

As the MTAC approached the facility, a corner of his mind registered a small, innocuous click. While normally he would ignore small sounds like those, since a MTAC operator would be usually be barraged by the full spectrum of noise, which ranged from the stomp of metallic feet to the whine of its motors. Whether or not he would have done something about that click would remain unresolved, as a mine was detonated by the presence of the MTAC.

A surge of heat and pressure radiated from the mine, smashing through metal support structures, crushing armor and burning electronic circuits. Suddenly bereft a leg, the MTAC flailed helplessly as it crashed into the ground, its control cabin crushed by the fall. The surrounding Kommandoes were incinerated by the blast and heat that radiated from the mine. Formerly silent comms, were now suddenly filled with the screams of the wounded and dying, and desperate requests for medical aid. Medics ran to their comrades, desperately trying to stave off the Grim Reaper from claiming more souls.

Captain Jaret Kosh’t watched, as the first wave of the Gallente attack force was ripped apart as the mines unleashed their deadly packages. He winced as he saw another MTAC fall to the ground and crush an unlucky Kommando that was nearby. He grimaced as he saw another Gallente soldier, lose both his legs as a landmine ripped them from underneath him.

He had positioned the remainder of the assault team in the surrounding forest. The overall plan was to buy time for reinforcements to arrive. Medium Assault Rifles (MARs) and shotguns were now wielded. A few members of the assault team carried with them rocket launchers. Every third soldier wielded an under slung grenade launcher. Camo suits were activated and the Pathfinders had complemented these suits with sticking part of the surrounding foliage into the seams of their suits. Every man and woman waited with baited breath, all waiting for the signal to unleash hell.

Jaret watched as the remnants of the first wave of Gallente soldiers were reinforced with the second wave of Kommandoes. He quietly watched as discipline was quickly re-established and as the dead and wounded were brought to their rear. He quietly watched as the second wave carefully passed his position, the Kommandoes scanning their surrounding. With a silent signal, he motioned his assault team to attack.

With flick of his hand, he now wielded his combat knife and in a smooth motion grabbed a nearby Gallente. Clamping his hand over the unlucky soldier’s mouth, he pulled the knife across the man’s neck and in an even stroke severed the man’s jugular artery. Blood gushed forth and covered his hands, as the man suddenly collapsed from lack of the blood. All around Pathfinders were repeating his actions, as they rose up like specters of death and claimed their victims.

Selecting another victim, Jaret carefully stalked him and began to position his knife. He was almost prepared to deliver the killing stroke, when in an instant the soldier whirled around. An instant passed, when killer and victim started each other in the eye, connected through that moment of death. Then it all went to hell.

In the hallways of the Gallente High Command, a team of Gallente Spec Ops soldiers carefully made their way through. Their eyes darted and scanned the hallway, noting the unnatural silence. CQB rifles were hefted and Night Vision Goggles pierced the darkness and gloom that now reigned in the hallways. Rebreather masks and HAZMAT suits prevented them from inhaling the toxic gas that now filled the corridors.

Their goal was to retrieve and rescue the Gallente High Command, whom were undoubtedly cocooned in the command room. Rated to withstand all manner of attack from the outside, it was a virtual fortress. Without the Gallente High Command, all military forces on the planet were virtually leaderless, the nearest command centre being located on Gallente Prime.

With a quick hand gestures, the spec-ops team investigated each room, noting the bodies that lay in odd postures. As they slowly approached the command room their pulses began to race as each soldier prepared for what they might find. Approaching a hidden console, the leader of the team entered in a code that granted him access to the room. With a whirr the blast doors slowly opened. A special forces soldier chucked in a flash-bang and for a moment a bright flash of thunder and light erupted from the room.

In a well polished maneuver the team streamed into the command room, rifles scanning their designated sectors. Night vision goggles pierced the darkness as each soldier registered what they saw.

CRACK! A shot rang out, and one soldier was thrown back, his armor sparking as it struggled to compensate for the slug, which smashed into it.

In a honed maneuver, driven by years of training and experience, another soldier raised his rifle, spotted the figure, a young attractive female clad in revealing attire and clutching a pistol, and fired two rounds into her forehead.

CRACK! CRACK! The young female suddenly had two extra eyes drilled into her forehead and she fell to floor in an almost graceful motion, her fingers firing the pistol in a final death spasm. The flash from her pistol illuminated the room and for an instant revealed the full scale of what had happened.

One by one the operators checked the slouching occupants of the room for any signs of life. Each corpse yielded no sign of life, as the pallor of death was fixed upon each of their faces.

The leader of the squad broadcast a quick terse message to his commanding officer, which revealed that almost everyone in the command centre was dead.

Jaret leapt the distance between the soldier and him, his knife flashing in the light of the rising sun. The soldier fired a round, which barely missed the Pathfinder. Almost in response to that lone shot, a thousand more shots rang out as the Gallente soon realized that they were being quietly ambushed. Jaret sunk his knife into his victim’s neck, his eyes locking onto the unfortunate man’s eyes, as his lifeblood drained from him.

Nearby another Pathfinder hefted his rocket launcher, aimed and then fired. A flaming explosive projective, was propelled towards its target an MTAC, whose operator had just opened fire. The unfortunate Pathfinder was immediately thrown backwards, as the heavy rounds slammed into his chest, blowing away armor and parts of organs. The rocket continued on its deadly path and it slammed into the MTAC. Armor plating was ripped apart and the operator was vaporized as the rocket unleashed its deadly payload and converted the former mighty MTAC into a bright red explosion.

Jaret whipped out his MAR and instantly opened fire. Rounds tore through foliage, armor and flesh. The silenced roar of his rifle, soon became louder, as his silencer overwhelmed by the fury of the unleashed rounds burned out. Around him the cries and clamor of battle reached a crescendo as the Caldari Pathfinders and the Gallente Kommandoes fought and grappled with each other.

Rockets flew threw the air, creating bright red explosions that consumed both man and machine. Soldiers fell to the ground, some clutching at their wounds and other continuing to fight where they lay. The formerly green foliage and trees was now caked with on odd mixture of engine oil, shrapnel and blood. Rifles, which had expended their rounds, were now turned into impromptu clubs, smashing skulls and breaking necks. Grenades exploded releasing their deadly waves of heat, pressure and shrapnel. Mines detonated impaling both friend and foe alike.

Sniper fired, their rounds flying at impossible speeds to their targets. Camo-systems overwhelmed by the surrounding chaos desperately tried to work, as platoons of half men, half phantoms engaged in a deadly struggle with each other.

Jaret desperately ordered a fighting withdrawal, and with ragged discipline the Pathfinders slowly withdrew back to the facility, making the Gallente pay for each inch they gained. Wounded were dragged or carried by their comrades and the dead were left where they laid. Hoisting one of his wounded brethren onto his shoulders, Jaret slowly inched his way back to the facility, trusting that the snipers would cover the remnants of the assault force.

The snipers fired, desperately trying to protect their comrades. Magnetically charged steel slugs flew through the air, striking both man and machine in the critical areas. Mechanical joints were shattered, leading to MTACs toppling to the floor, their Gatling guns still firing as they fell. Soldiers lost their throats and heads, as the steel slugs smashed and tore threw flesh and bone.

Admiral Jorus Fringer snarled as he saw his casualties mount. While they were slowly advancing they were taking horrendous casualties. He had lost entire battalions, their formerly proud warriors now reduced to the silent dead or the moaning wounded. MTAC divisions were ripped apart as explosive rockets, precisely aimed railgun rounds and deadly mines took their toll.

Any logical tactician would have immediately called off the assault, but Fringer knew that he didn’t have that option. If the Caldari still retained control of the orbital cannons, any invading assault possessed a potential advantage.

An alert over the command network, revealed by a fellow officer, that Gallente High Command was dead. Chaos soon reigned over the command network as officers argued over what to do. Soon reports began to stream in of Caldari Naval vessels moving through surrounding solar systems.

Fringer, realizing that he was the highest ranking officer on the planet, immediately took command. Fringer now more aware of the importance of retaking the facility, immediately ordered in more reinforcements. One officer, responded that he was dispatching a regiment of shock troopers. Another officer added that he was detailing a team of heavily armed tanks to support Fringer.

Out in the dark-emptiness of space, the Caldari Navy approached the planet, as the heavily outnumbered Gallente Defense Fleet attacked the immense formations. Every man and woman on those ships, knew that they didn’t stand a chance against the immense Caldari fleet. All they were able to do was buy more time for the ground forces to retake the orbital cannon centre, which would almost certainly reduce the Caldari to bits and pieces.

As the Caldari Navy approached the planet, a stream of missiles and railguns rounds erupted from the formation and flew towards the Gallente fleet. Majestic Caldari Chimera carriers and Wyvern
Motherships disgorged their streams of nimble fighters and heavy bombers. Heavy armed dropships streamed towards the planetary surface, escorted by the hordes of Caldari Dragonfly fighters. Wings of Caldari Navy Hookbills, covered by Harpys and Hawks opened fire on Gallente frigates and cruisers.

Missiles tore through durasteel plating and exploded, ripping apart the orbital cannons. They exploded in impressive display of fireworks, their deadly charges of cruise missiles and bombs detonating. Waves of thermal and electrical energy spread out from the wrecks of the orbital cannons as the Caldari Navy set to work at demolishing the orbital cannon network with impunity.

A flight of gunships flew straight towards the orbital cannon control centre, filled to their capacity with Caldari State Marines. Eager to rescue their brethren, the Marines made final checks on their equipment. The lead gunship broadcast a coded message to the Pathfinders, indicating the help was on it way.

Captain Jaret Kosh’t was thrown to the ground as a Gallente tank round tore through the foliage and exploded right in front of him. The wounded man he was carrying, was thrown away from him, crying out in pain as his injuries were worsened by the blast.

Jaret slowly pushed himself upwards and painfully crawled towards his comrade, each movement sending a wave of pain through him. As he reached his comrade, he noticed that the man had in fact died on impact. He flipped himself onto his back and prepared to make his final stand. Whipping out his pistol he started firing, noting that with every Gallente tank round fired, the stream of slugs and rockets erupting from the Pathfinder’s position seemed to lessen. Time seemed to slow down as he watched as a Gallente Kommando, step into his field of vision and raise his rifle.

Prashesh Kobai, watched as his close friend collapsed to the ground. With a roar he continued to fire his sniper rifle, his rounds continuing to leave their mark on the Gallente. The snipers continued to fire their rifles, desperately trying to hold off the enraged Gallente Kommandoes who seemed to ignore hail of slugs and rockets the Pathfinders put out. Prashesh, aimed carefully at the Kommando who was now aiming at his comrade and in a single motion fired a round that removed the man’s head from his shoulders. However, in the corner of his vision, he could have sworn he saw a tank’s turret swivel, aim and fire on his position.

Prasheh Kobai, slowly watched as his vision blossomed into fire and destruction, as the tank rounds blew him and the nearby snipers off their perches. Prashesh, slowly watched as his vision darkened into blackness. In a testament to his warrior spirit, Prashesh’ last words was the chant of the Pathfinder code, as the darkness claimed him.

In orbit, a Caldari Navy commander noted the huge concentration of Gallente military around the orbital cannon facility. While normally, he would have ordered a bombardment of the facility and its surroundings, the fact of the matter was that there were comrades defending the facility. Additionally high command wanted the facility intact, something about useful intelligence hidden there. However he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give, the Gallente Defense Forces, a black eye and so ordered an orbiting battery of artillery cannons to fire on his marked targets.

The commander allowed himself a slight grin as the rounds sped through the atmosphere to rain hell and destruction on the unlucky Gallente below

Admiral Jorus Fringer slumped forward in his command chair, as he registered the destruction of the orbital cannons. Despite all their best efforts, despite every maneuver they tried, it was only a matter of time before Caldari Prime fell. But what they could do was vanquish those bastard Pathfinders, whose numbers were dropping steadily by the minute. With a roar of rage, he threw all his forces onto Pathfinders, ignoring the officers who protested such suicidal orders.

In retrospect, that would be Fringer’s undoing. Having thrown all his available forces, he had in fact made them all an attractive target to the orbiting Caldari artillery ships. Fringer barely had time to glance at the nearby photo of his dear wife and child, before the artillery shells incinerated and destroyed him and his division.

All that Jaret do was watch as the tank blew the snipers off their perches with explosive rounds. His legs failed to respond to his will. His rifle and pistol having expended all their ammo, now lay at his feet. A MTAC stomped its way towards him, its feet sounding like thunder. Jaret slowly began to chant the Pathfinder code and prepared to join his comrades in death.

All of a sudden, like the wrath of an angry god, thunder and lighting erupted from the sky, as artillery rounds slammed into the assaulting Gallente Defense Forces. Man and machines were ripped asunder as the artillery rounds swept through the formations. Tanks were smashed into pieces, MTAC’s exploded and men were simply vaporized by the rounds. The forest, having long now been destroyed by the fight, erupted into flame as the shells ignited the streams of oil and blood that flowed through the forest.

Jaret slowly massaged his eyes open and gawked at the sight that greeted his eyes. Less than two feet from him lay the broken body of an MTAC. The charred corpse of the MTAC operator lay halfway through the broken windscreen, his burnt hands still clasping the ripped controls of the machine.

For the first time in hours, silence reigned in the forest. Jaret could hear thunder and lightning and felt raindrops on his skin. The rain started slowly first and then became a downpour, as if nature itself wanted to wash away the scars of this battle. The streams of rain that blanketed the charred remains of the forest soon washed expended rounds, blood and oil away.

A steady thrum of plasma engine soon greeted his ears, Caldari gunships landed and emptied their load of Caldari State Marines. Marines rushed to their positions, checking for any survivors and executing any Gallente wounded.

In a corner of his vision Jaret, saw the Marines stream into the facility, carrying out wounded Pathfinders out and marking the dead. Jaret saw one Marine Corporal approach him and say something. As Jaret was hauled to his feet, with two Marines supporting him, he regarded the full scale of death and destruction that had been unleashed in the past hours.

The corporal’s HUD registered the man as barely alive and the commander of this company of Pathfinders. The Marine Corporal, truth be told, thought he was talking to a corpse more than anything else. The man was pockmarked with wounds and blast marks. The man’s legs barely supported him. His eyes, were lifeless and they slowly moved from left to right.

The Marine would have thought the Pathfinder dead, if the man hadn’t suddenly started to cry, tears descending from his tired eyes, down his dirt-stained face and onto the blood soaked earth.