That brought her here. To her military service at “The fortress” AKA Fort Wellson. Her planet's primary defence against the enigmatic Blood Elf raiders that somehow appeared in the valley she now guarded. A dark brooding edifice to her people's lack of imagination. Deliberately designed to impress these raiders, with input from Jacob Wellson, it had been built to cow them into setting their sights elsewhere. With tall walls and a plethora of gun turrets Fort Wellson, certainly looked the part, but, secretly, Zahra wondered how effective it would really be. The raiders used fast, light anti-grav vehicles in hit and run raids, that seemed designed to cause maximum fear. The fort seemed to be designed to stop a slow moving rolling army. such as the pre-space flight armies of the early 20th Century, or even before that. The only accommodation to later combat techniques were the anti flyer guns sitting on the corner turrets. Pentagon shaped with triangular towers at each point and surrounded by a twenty metre wide, five metre deep, moat. Although technically a dry moat the solid base covered by a layer of dirt did make it a bit boggy during the wetter months of the year. The walls of the moat were sloped to prevent collapse in the event of a close artillery strike.
The outer walls rose up ten metres above the top of the moat and were topped by medieval style crenulations. With three levels of firing slots staggered along the walls the moat would quickly become a killing ground for any enemy trying to get in that way.
At each point of the pentagram was a triangular tower jutting out from the main building a couple of metres with six firing slots on each side of the link, totally protected from fire outside of the moat, designed purely to pour fire along the lengths of the walls in case anyone was stupid enough to reach them. These ports were each armed with rapid firing liquid cooled lasers deliberately de-ranged so their shots barely reached the next tower in line. Enough to kill any attackers, but without damaging their own fortifications with any shots that hit it.
These towers rose two metres above the main walls with crenulations all the way round and were designed to be mini fortresses in themselves. Where they connected to the wall was just as thick as the wall itself to ensure that they could not be used as weak points. The only entrance to the towers was an open topped walkway leading out from the top of the wall – crenulated so any extra troops could add their fire against anyone in the moat, but deliberately vulnerable to anyone holding the tower, with murder holes covering it.
Atop each tower was single heavy anti flyer gun, in the centre, along with one medium and two light guns in the points. With the medium being at the point closest to the enemy. The medium and light guns were set up so their elevation could be lowered to the point of being able to fire at the ground beyond the moat.
Along the inside of the main walls were the accommodation blocks for the troops stationed there. These were sufficient to house two full companies, but not families. In the days of modern transport, where you could get anywhere on the planet in less than six hours, you didn't need the complications of families at any front line. These barracks were sturdy enough, but designed that pretty much anything that destroyed the wall would also cause them to collapse, adding to the rubble any attacker would have to fight through, while reducing the available cover..
The centre of the fort was a large open space, designed as a killing ground, dominated by the Redoubt. Standing at twenty metres tall this imposing building was laid out as a hollow triangle, with each wall independent from the others. The long wall was towards the main gate of the fort, with the smaller two jutting out into the open space. Again there were crenulations along the top, from which even the tops of the outer towers were not safe. Controlling the redoubt controlled the fort.
In here were the officers quarters and mess, the magazine and armoury and the administrative offices. There was no access at ground level to these buildings and the wide stairways to the first floor were suitably cover by fire slits.
After a raid most of the human victims would be missing from the planet, even the children's GPS tags coming up as not found. Those that were left would not only be dead, but horribly mutilated, both from the slicing effect of their munitions – a razor sharp circular disc, or by deliberate knife wounds.
The only known survivor of such a raid being her father. His eye-witness accounts of the atrocities committed to the bodies of the dead and badly wounded (ie soon to be dead) had been the impetus for the massive spending required to build the new fortress that had been named after him. Zahra didn't see how the ditches and walls were going to stop, or even slow, the fast moving foe. But the heavy las-cannons, and fast firing gattling lasers whose installation was due to be completed next week. Those she could happily envision blasting the enemy from the sky as they raced past grim faced defenders desperately trying to protect their loved ones.
For the last six months she had been out here guarding the crews building the fort, ready for today. The day she had been dreading since the planetary governor had formally announced the dedication of the new bastion to human supremacy was going to occur during her period here. She had been hoping it would happen after her duty rotation, but the fates had conspired against her and she was here. Here where she would have to listen to the politicians drone on about how wonderful they were for paying for this (with the special taxes they' levied, but not cancelled) while lauding her father for being lucky enough to have been too much trouble for the elven raiders to dig out and kill.
Again her mind wandered. This time to the enigmatic elves. Named, by the humans, for their similarity to the creatures from the works of high fantasy, they were, at their best, aloof and condescending to those they considered to be of a lesser race (which seemed to be everything).
The traders of the 'Fire Elves' would deign to interact with humans as long as the deal was in their favour – humans who got the better end of the bargain from them were black-listed and never dealt with again. Generally the taller of the known branches of the species their completely black eyes stood out starkly against their pale skin and white hair. Usually wearing their hair long, but clean shaven (Zahra wasn't even sure they had facial hair). They wore red and yellow clothes, which got them their name, never having told the humans what they called themselves.
The other well know race of elf was the 'Blood Elves'. These were raiders and pirates. Taking what they wanted and seemingly delighting in the wanton destruction they left in their wake. The worst part was that it was almost always prisoners they wanted. Prisoners that were never ransomed back or even heard of again. The Fire Elves never mentioned them and outright refused to discuss them with humans. Surviving video of their raids showed them as wearing black and dark red garb, with a wide variety of vicious looking weapons. Sometimes so overdone as to appear impractical.
Rumour had it there other sub races of elf, but these never willingly interacted with humanity and were only encountered by the Imperial Ranger Corps who would mark their territory as off limits. It was a brave and foolish trader who ignored the Rangers' ban. Being caught having been in forbidden space, resulted in a long visit to a penal colony and a confiscation of any and all property, including their very expensive starship.
As her mind started to wander again, this time to the numerous lesser races (as the Fire Elves) called everyone else, Zahra knew she wasn't going to be able to settle into her book.
That realisation led to the decision to get up and prepare for the day ahead. And what a miserable day she expected it to be. Hours of final cleaning and preparation followed by listening to politicians waxing on about their contribution to the defences. Worse than all that, however, would be the speech given by her father, Colonel Wellson, who would regale the troops of his own heroism when the previous fort fell and extol the current defenders of New Cairo to pick up the baton of the planet's defence and “make him proud”. This would be followed by a reception where everyone would make a point of singing her father's praise and commenting how proud of him she must be. Zahra hoped against hope she could find some excuse to miss this. The closest to enjoyment, for her, today would be in guessing which version of the story her father told.
As Zahra was getting ready to start her unhappy day Valna'a was already in position and looking forward to the fun ahead. While what happened to the cattle after the raid was vitally important to her clan, Valna'a enjoyed the chaos of the raid itself. Well the chaos her people caused. Their part of the raid was a well choreographed dance where every player knew their role and performed it perfectly, or else. Failing in a raid was not condusive to a long and happy life, especially for the raid leader. A raid leader who failed to fulfil their quota, or lost too many troops would live to envy the captured cattle, if they were stupid enough to survive the raid.
Laying on an outcrop at the mouth of the valley Valna'a was a scout for the raiding party. Not the most prestigious of roles, but she was still young, by her peoples' standard and even being the daughter of the Clan-Father didn't earn her any special privileges. This irked her, as she knew was more than capable of leading such a raid against cattle as weak as these. Especially as they had a traitor in the their midst who had provided all the security information and timings for today to her clan.
Her initial role today was to observe the cattle as they prepared for the arrival of their leaders and to inform the raid leader if anything was different to the information provided. Woe betide their contact if anything was amiss. The agreement that had seen him avoid the pits would be nullified and the torment he would suffer would need all the medical knowledge of the healers to keep him alive along enough to sate her father's rage.
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Valna'a was a little conflicted by the role of their contact. Life was of utmost importance to her people, though every life had a different level of priority even then. To a member of their clan their own life came first, followed by their position in the clan and then their individual contentment. After their needs came the people who supported them, and then the people they supported.
Somewhere in the mix came the well-being of the clan-father, but as everyone aspired to the role, no-one would weep too much when her father fell back into the pack of baying curs desperate to claw their way to the top of the heap. Valna'a even had a few ideas to dethrone her father herself, though she was too young and too lacking in reliable contacts to attempt such a coup yet. She was, however, fully cognisant of the fact she would have to ensure her father didn't survive the attempt if she did usurp him, as his thirst for revenge would be insatiable. No, better to let someone else take her father down, and then launch her attack against a weakened rival. Especially if that rival was Korsephan, her hated older brothers and today's raid leader. Her father could take his vengeance out on him, while Valna'a solidified her support base.
Valna'a's attention was brought back to the scene in front of her as a young female exited the sleeping area of the fort and headed towards the eating area, dressed in the casual combat clothes that the cattle preferred. Suddenly she stopped, looking round, as though she could sense something was wrong. Scanning the base didn't seem to calm her as the cattle's eyes probed the hills and then the canyon itself. Its eyes lingered on Valna'a's location, long enough for her to wonder if her camouflage was working, before the cattle carried on to the food hall.
As Zahra's eyes paused when they reached her position Valna'a felt a strange connection to this tall, female creature, in her camouflage shirt and trousers. Even hoping that she would somehow qualify to be given her as a reward for her work today. Though that was incredibly unlikely as her brother hated her as much as she hated him and would rather claw his own eyes out than give her any credit.
The counter, in her eye-lens, moved on one interval and Valna'a sub-vocalised her preparedness into the comm. system. Again. Korsephan was nervous today. Increasing the number of scouts as well as the frequency they had to report in. Valna'a liked this nervousness in her brother. The swagger he had shown before the raid, and would no doubt express afterwards meant nothing. The fear he showed just before the action was oh so tasty. At least it would be if she was near enough to consume it.
Her people fed on both corporeal food, in the form of a grey tasteless substance that could be liquid or solid, but mostly on the emotions of others. This was the secret for their long lives. The food maintained their bodies, but the little bits of a creature's spirit that escaped with their emotions was what kept their spirits going. In theory her people were immortal, at least as far as ageing went. With enough sustenance their spirits could last forever. It hadn't always been so, but the weakness of the old ways had been replaced by the functionality of the new.
All emotions gave some life, but not the same amount. Her people had found that pain and fear not only tasted the best, but also gave the greatest reward. Unfortunately the creatures used up in such ways had a tendency to die while serving their masters in this way. Even the carefully crafted routines of allowing the cattle to recover only prolonged their miserable existences for so long. Once enough of them had perished – to be used as fertiliser for the plants and fungi that went into the bland food – then another raid would be required.
The problem with these raids is that they invariably cost lives. Lives the clan could not afford to waste when they were continually at war for their own survival against other Blood Elves and the Night Elves. Or were looking to increase their empire at the expense of other elves.
Elves! She'd done it again. Her people were not elves. They were the People. The clans. Not Elves. Elves was a name one of the lesser races had given her people. And no lesser race got to name her! At one time the only know sentient species in the galaxy her people hadn't needed a name. Then came the multitude of lesser species with the need to classify themselves and each other. That was acceptable: sometimes you needed to know what breed of cattle you were eating from. Different breeds having different stimuli and producing different amount of spirit per emotion. But none of them got to name her people.
Getting her emotions under control she checked her time piece, to see how long was left, and roamed her eyes over the 'human' base and the surrounding areas.
Time moved on and her her thoughts tried to distract her again. This time with thoughts of the feast when they got home (newly captured cattle always provided and excess of fear and pain), along with the hope that her worthless brother would somehow get on the wrong end of an enemy (or friendly) weapon.
The latter seemed unlikely as the previous time her people had raided this planet they had managed to embed an agent in the cattle's military. One who was so terrified of what was done before his eyes he had volunteered to betray his own people on the promise that he would never be captured or killed by her people. Promising this turn-coat dire consequences if he betrayed his new masters (with a graphic demonstration of only a part of what was waiting for him if he did), this creature was returned to the battlefield and positioned so that it would seem that he had been overlooked, during the post conflict orgy of destruction. This agent had informed his contact that today was the grand dedication of the new defences. After today the heavy weapons, already delivered would be installed.
Also, today would see a number of the planet's leaders here to give long winded speeches to a double garrison of bored, mostly unarmed, soldiers, stood in front of their defences, just ripe for the picking. There would also be the cattle's press to show the world the speed and ferocity with which the troops would be destroyed and another fortification obliterated.
Ah, her pet was out of the eating area and going back to the building she had originally come out of. She had obviously had her final meal on this gods forsaken little world and was going to get ready for the next stage of her existence. Unless she had the good fortune to die trying to defend this useless fort, though that would be unlikely.
Time and check-ins clicked by until the cattle, now dressed in grey and blue, with shiny weapons (but no ammunition) took their place on the open ground in front of the gateway, facing the fortifications, but with those same defences blocking their line of sight to the rushing elves to await their leaders. Information that was passed back to her brother, despite the temptation to increase his nerves by delaying it.
With dawn approaching now was the time for her squad to prepare for their second part of the operation. They now had to infiltrate into the base to be prepared to close the gates, stopping the humans from getting to their weapons. This was a dangerous task for her team. Their holo suits would all but make them invisible, but would do nothing to hide any dust clouds thrown up. Better to have had a separate unit infiltrate to the outer ditch during the night ready to cross a short distance than to have her team run the better part of two kilometres in near light with only their stealth suits to hide them. But this was her idiot brother's mission, and he was probably hoping she would get spotted. Any blame would then be directed at her with the added advantage of greatly increasing the chances of her getting killed today.
Once in the outer ditch her team stealthily made their way to the area by the gates ready to wait for the humans to start their ceremony. After a couple of hours the column of grav vehicles carrying the dignitaries was spotted by one of the few humans still guarding the walls and all eyes watched them approach, missing her teams near suicidal sprint. Once they arrived at an area near the soldiers they disgorged an undisciplined gaggle of cattle. Older humans in suits, or fancy versions of the soldiers' uniforms mixed with young assistants and their data-pads, more casually dressed humans setting up recording equipment and the obvious body guards trying to look imposing in their dark suits and sunglasses Hearing the signal that the prey were all here Valna'a made a mental note to ensure that the human's recording equipment was preserved as it would make for great entertainment watching today's event's from the victims' perspective.
Then the parade started. The soldiers marched around and saluted the dignitaries, before resuming their places outside the gates. Another report to let her brother know that stage of the day was done, before signalling that the speeches were starting.
Valna'a watched all this choreographed ridiculousness from the safety of her ditch, secretly laughing at the absurdity of it. Finally she heard the attack signal from the staging area, and readied herself for the rush to the gate
Zahra hadn't been able to shake her unease all day. From the feeling of being watched to the sense that this was some kind of trap, she had the feeling that today was not going to be the boring event that had been promised.
As her platoon had performed final preparations she had got her people to put real energy packs in their rifles. Not enough for a battle, but maybe enough to give cover to the other platoons as they rushed back inside to arm up. This didn't go down well with her sergeant, Mantle, or the men. Corporal Cooper was obviously looking for a way to grass her lieutenant up to her father (Zahra's company commander), so Zahra ensured she had no such chance. She would take the bollocking this evening, if she was just being paranoid, but for now her men would have some chance if things went pear-shaped. Of course if nothing happened there would be hell to pay for going to this armed.
Zahra was surprised to be unable to see her father amongst the dignities on the saluting platform. With his recent announcement that he was going retire from the military and run for planetary governor, the free publicity would be invaluable.
The parade part went okay. Jenkins of 3 platoon nearly missing the order to start marching. At the head of her platoon Zahra could only hope her men were flawless. Then came the dreaded speeches. The joke was always that parades were performed unarmed due to the fear of troopers ending their own suffering. An hour into the speeches Zahra's nervousness came back with a vengeance. Something was about to happen. Something big. As the tension in her grew she took a deep breath ready to bellow any necessary orders.