First Contact Fallout by Aer-ki Jyr (novels for teenagers .TXT) 📗

“Then our next objective is clear. We get to the dead drop, and the more distance we can put between us and the facility the less likely it is we will be followed.”

“That makes sense,” Sol’an said, glad and partially relieved to get a bit of wisdom out of him, both for his sake and the fact that he had far more combat training and experience than her, though most of it was locked up inside his brain inactive. “Are you tired?”

“I can continue at our previous pace. Move on.”

Sol’an turned and aligned with the trajectory on her mental display. The ring didn’t produce a hologram that others could see, but superimposed it on her own vision within her mind. She had a navigational program that would lead her to anywhere on the planet within the database, but the location of the dead drop was known only to her and a handful of the Zen’zat…and they had kill programs in their armor that would wipe the locations from their armor’s memory in the event of their death, so hopefully no one would be able to know where they went. And with the primary defense shield still up over top this region, the enemy couldn’t scan down on them from orbit. Only local units operating beneath the shield would be able to spot them.

But if that shield came down…or when…their heat signatures would stand out amongst the jungle even if the trees did obscure them from most view, for the leaves were not thick enough to hide all of it.

The female Era’tran took off running again, heading towards a nearby stream that they came to a few minutes later. They turned north and traveled in the stream for nearly half an hour before heading back into the jungle again. They broke so many branches and left such large tracks that they were essentially making a path everywhere they went, and the more bodies of water they could travel through the more breaks in that trail there would be. Meaning that if anyone followed them they wouldn’t know which way they went when they came to the streams, for the water would wash away their footprints and there would be no heavy limbs overhead to break as they passed…usually.

A few more hours and they’d be at the dead drop, but it looked like the sunrise was going to beat them to it…

Mario’topa lunged for the Bo’ja, tackling him at the ankles as he fired his wrist-mounted weapons at another Zen’zat. He emitted a Fornax field as soon as he made contact, which disrupted the enemy long enough to get him in a stranglehold from behind, peeling his weapons off their target and allowing his fellow Zen’zat to close in and put multiple shots into the Bo’ja’s helmet…enough to eventually get through the armor and kill him.

Mario’topa pushed the body off him and got to his feet as two more of his Zen’zat caught up to him on the inner perimeter of the Zor’do. As they did another enemy transport flew in and set down inside, disgorging how many more infantry he didn’t know, for they couldn’t see, but it was clear that they were not going to survive if they continued to stay here.

No Oso’lon had showed up. No large Viks either, let alone a Zak’de’ron. It was all small races from their employ, so there wasn’t even a single traitor here to avenge the Era’tran against. Just hordes of meaningless troops too green to be worth a damn. Even the Bo’ja were not as good as advertised, though they were by far the most competent. But against Zen’zat with countless millennia of combat experience, they were severely outclassed and being used as fodder to draw out or weaken the indigenous forces as more and more transports arrived in the system and poured down through the small safe zone that had been carved out of the planetary defenses.

It may have been an effective strategy for the enemy, but it wasn’t the way V’kit’no’sat fought. Mario’topa would die if necessary to achieve a mission objective, but he wouldn’t waste his life. He’d been trained not to, for if he died they’d have to bring in someone new out of the Ter’nat worlds and train them all over again to get back to his level of experience. The empire needed strength, not suicide squads, but it seemed the Zak’de’ron didn’t care how many they lost so long as they succeeded in wearing down the Era’tran and eventually claiming the planet.

And for the Bo’ja, at least, their replacements were coming from the Rim, and the strike force that had been sent there to deny the flow of reinforcements had been thwarted by the Voku that spawned the Bo’ja. Thus the Zak’de’ron’s supply of their least worthless infantry was still flowing generously.

I don’t see any more easy targets, Ben’ra said to the trio as they repositioned around a corner in a little nook amongst the streets between buildings. What now?

I have one more charge left, Lenna said, referring to the explosive inside her pack.

Save it, Mario’topa said angrily, but his ire wasn’t directed at his fellow Zen’zat. We have to leave while we still can.

Why? Jo’ra asked.

We have another mission.

The wounded Era’tran? he guessed.

Yes. If we can catch them. But we have to make sure we’re not followed first, so we’re going to split up and rendezvous here, he said, sending them a new waypoint on their regional map. If you’re followed, go anywhere but here. If you get clear, run your asses off. The Era’tran can move faster than us over open ground, but we can catch up in the jungle.

Is there something special about that one, or are we just keeping them alive to spite Itaru?

There is something special. And the enemy cannot know it, he said, looking