Mirai

I can’t believe we got suckered into this.

It was the first day of her crew’s new role as security contractors for an Imperium military base, and Captain Mirai was feeling like a rotisserie bric’ek as she turned her head once more to allow the relentless yellow eye of the star above to sear at the left side of her body instead of the right.

The radiation shouldn’t have been a huge problem; her crew and the rest of the fleet had been issued a cream that blocked all but the smallest amount of harmful UV from penetrating the surface of their sensitive kespan skin. Unfortunately, as the day wore on it quickly became apparent that there were patches where she’d been less than thorough in her application, and there was nothing to be done about the rolling waves of heat that built steadily between the half-hearted puffs of a light afternoon breeze.

She had no idea how the humans had developed unprotected skin like theirs in such conditions. It reminded her a little of her stint on Uxium-5 during the last 30 days of basic training when she’d been an Imperial cadet. There, the landscape had been sparsely populated with life, mostly microbial colonies living on rocks speckled with a ubiquitous scrub that formed most of the sunbaked planet’s land-based biodiversity. On Uxium-5, the sun’s scorching heat had laid waste to much of the planet, and they’d been forced to rely on resources scavenged from the planet’s vast oceans to survive.

The terrain was no less extreme but far more diverse in the southern regions of the continent that the humans referred to as ‘Australia’. Despite the dry acridity, most of the land was covered in thick vegetative undergrowth, from which spindly shrubs and even large trees grew at regular intervals in an uneven sandy soil that made expeditions on foot tedious things.

There were hidden dangers to contend with, too. Their suits kept them largely safe from the clouds of flying insects and the venomous reptiles and arachnids that seemed to lurk in every crevice. Still, vigilance was a hard thing to maintain. Mirai had heard horror stories of cadets whose attention to detail had slipped for long enough to allow enormous crawling and biting things into their boots and helmets, only to discover their mistake in the worst possible way.

Even the plants on this goddess-damned planet were actively trying to kill them. On a foray in the northern regions of the continent, a private from the 102nd had brushed her exposed tail up against a leaf that had immediately administered a nasty sting that rendered her crippled with pain. Examinations of samples taken from the plant revealed a bed of needle-sharp trichomes laden with a potent neurotoxin. The private in question had survived, but the toxin had proved resistant to many attempts at negation, and her story had been made even more sobering by the rumour that she had requested an amputation a full week later.

Fortunately, the location that Mirai’s team had been called in to provide security for was far from the reported habitat of that particular plant. The consulate was being constructed on the western outskirts of one of the country’s largest cities, Melbourne. While the military had formally surrendered, it had remained an Amber zone for several months following the botched induction, with roving bands of mostly male freedom fighters attempting to inflict what damage they could on the Imperial forces.

Now, a full year after the arrival of the Imperium, and several months after relief crews had started to arrive, the inevitability of facing up against an entire galaxy of beings armed with weapons and armour that far surpassed human technology had taken its toll. Without the deep-seated revenge-driven hatred that fuelled the women of the northern continents, things were finally settling down into a new normal in this region of the world.

Of all the postings she could have been assigned to, it was far from the worst, but there were complicating factors.

Speaking of which…

“Valiir! Eyes front! We are here to provide security, not be provided with a peep show!”

The tips of the guilty ensign’s long ears were already red where she had also misapplied her radiation blocker, but now they flushed all the way to their base as she slid her eyes away from the trio of human youths, all male, whose bare shoulders were disappearing down the road.

“J-just keeping an eye out for any troublemakers, ma’am!” Valiir squeaked out. She made a show of sweeping her gaze left and right again, lingering momentarily on the men before returning to parade rest. “We’re all clear!”

“Where do you suppose they’d be hiding a weapon if they had one?” Security Officer Rowla ribbed back, and the rest of the ensign’s face flushed the same scarlet as her ears.

“I suppose that depends on whether there’s any spare room in those shorts of theirs, that one on the left might have been packing something.” Imrir, the second officer, couldn’t help but add before stopping as Mirai turned to her with a sharp look. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

Mirai sighed, rubbing at sore eyes with a gloved claw. “We’re here to do a job, ladies. We might not be soldiers, but we are representing the Imperium, so keep it professional. Remember those soldiers from yesterday? The locals have plenty of good reasons to hate our guts. Let’s not give them any more.”

The mood change was immediate, and Mirai kicked herself when her crew slumped as one, eyes returning to the field and banter dying on their lips. Sometimes she forgot that this war was being fought on two fronts.

“This sucks,” Rowla noted darkly, shading her eyes with a gloved hand. “All these good-looking males, and not one of them wants anything to do with us.”

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“One of them spat at me the other day.” Valiir offered. “I guess that’s kinda hot.”

“Fucking weirdo.” Rowla sniggered, and some of the tension dissolved. “But yeah, this was meant to be the best gig of our lives. I can’t believe the brass managed to screw it up so ba-“

“Look alive.” Imrir interrupted sharply, straightening up. An Imperial ATV was approaching through the heat shimmer, bright flashes of light reflecting off the sleek, angled metal of its grill. It was almost comically oversized on the human roads, occupying an entire lane and a half, and as it hurtled down the street towards them, it forced a civilian vehicle off to the side and onto the curb. Mirai winced; that was another public relations hurdle they’d need to overcome eventually.

As it drew closer, the flags on its hood came into view, and Mirai snapped to attention. “Eyes front, no slouching. It’s the Admiralty, and they’re in a hurry.” The consulate itself wasn’t finished, but there was a command centre and an active landing pad that had been completed as a matter of priority. She assumed that was where they were headed, but they should have been slowing down by now; there were protocols in place.

The vehicle held its brisk pace as it neared the first improvised checkpoint just ahead of theirs. Then it blew through the gate, sending the troops there scattering in every direction. Mirai’s breath hitched in her throat, and a hand dropped to her sidearm. They weren’t coming under any fire, so why the spectacle? A stolen military vehicle? Unlikely but possible.

Just as she was about to make the call on whether to open fire, her transponder crackled into life. A stilted voice— Duradian from the even tone and slight hisses— piped through in untranslated kespan. “Stand down, Captain Mirai. Stand down. Allow them through.”

“Let them pass! Emergency orders!” she yelled, and her crew jumped to each side of the road, those quicker on the draw lowering their weapons.

The truck roared past, forcing Mirai to shield her eyes from the spray of dusty earth that leapt up in its wake. As it skidded to a halt some thirty metres into the compound, the door was already opening, and before the wheels had finished turning, a long-eared kespan officer stepped out in a fluid dismount. She was adorned with livery, medallions and ribbons forming a solid block of colour on her slate grey coat. She was also ignoring the usual pomp and circumstance, waving off the consulate staff as she stalked down the path, spittle flying from between sharp teeth as she approached the landing pad above which, seemingly summoned by fury alone, a shuttle tore from the sky, moving altogether too fast for Mirai’s comfort.

The pilot was skilful at least, clearing the cloud cover and spearing toward the ground before abruptly lifting the nose and bleeding off speed as quickly as any hot landing Mirai had ever seen in her stint with the military. By the time the Admiral, because that was most certainly what she was, had made it two-thirds of the way down the path, the ramp of her shuttle was already opening. Two military personnel scuttled out, barely reaching the bottom of the ramp in time to throw a pair of crisp chest-high salutes.

Ignoring them, the crimson-faced Admiral as good as leapt aboard, clearing the ramp in three or four steps and disappearing into the belly of the shuttle. As the soldiers followed and the ramp rose back up, a new sound tore from the vessel, over even the roar of the engines. A horrific keening screech, of a kind that the death angels of old, celestial arbitrators worshipped back when Keshmin was a solitary speck in a dark and unknown galaxy, were said to have bestowed to their people. Mirai’s ears drew back, as did her troops, their curiosity and annoyance sated. That cry was equal parts fury and mourning.

“That’s not good,” Imrir muttered as the ramp inched shut and the wailing subsided. “That was Rear Admiral Shessix, right? I didn’t get a good look.”

“I heard one of her daughters was working special operations planetside,” Rowla offered. “Maybe something happened while she was out chasing glory.”

“Keep your goddessdamned traps shut about it, either way.” Mirai cut across the discussion. “Whatever that was, the less it affects us, the better. The last thing I need is attention from an Admiral while she’s in a mood like that.”

The rest of the day’s guard duty was uneventful, save for the occasional pretty human male wandering by, and a spot of fun when Valiir’s eyes had drifted shut, and Rowla ordered her to dance a ‘wake-up jig’. It wasn’t until they’d been relieved by the regular navy and settled into their temporary lodgings that they heard anything more about the commotion.

As the most junior crewmember of the security team, Valiir had been sent to collect dinner, and when she returned from the mess hall with the packaged dinners set aside for the private contractors, her ears were twitching, and her tail quirked in agitation.

“Spit it out then,” Rowla prompted. “What’s got your tail in knots?”

“Cookie says, and mind you, this is just barracks rumours, nothing confirmed yet, but…” the ensign hesitated. “We lost two full detachments of quickpaws in the north. It happened early this morning, evening over there.”

“Not possible,” Imrir replied immediately. “No operation on this planet is big enough to need two special forces detachments. The humans don’t pose that kind of threat. We locked down their nukes, how the…”

“Cookie says it was a trap,” Valiir shrugged. “Apparently the rebels had good intel and stolen tech. Spoofed a distress call that claimed the governess' security team was under attack. The quick response teams arrived with guns blazing and the whole building was rigged to blow.”

“How was that call not verified? Did the humans actually manage to kidnap a governor?” Rowla raised an eyebrow.

“That’s the worst part. Apparently, and this is just a rumour, but apparently, the governess was… indisposed at the time of the attack. Off the clock with a local if the stories are to be believed. She’s been arrested, so there might be some truth to it.”

“Fuck.” Mirai muttered. The last thing they needed was more scandals at the command level. Morale was already at an all-time low.

“The distress call went out as shifts were changing. Orders were for all hands on deck. It was close to the airstrip, so they all got there at the same time. The humans had grenades and armour-piercing rifles on the rooftops too. From what I heard, out of the entire rescue operation, there were no survivors. Twenty-four special operatives blown to pieces. Including Admiral Shessix’s daughter.”

The air in the room grew heavy.

“The rebels will only get bolder after a win like that,” Rowla muttered darkly. “If they managed to get their hands on the intel to pull off that kind of operation, they’ll know how exactly how much it hurts us. The fleet is not equipped for a full-scale invasion of a hostile planet. The fact that we’re here is proof enough of that.”

“Whoever jumped the gun and sent half our quickpaws off on the same call needs to be hung up by the tail.” Mirai agreed, her voice low. “Shessix will be out hunting for blood in every direction.”

“Someone fucked up bad” Rowla frowned. “I have a sister on the ISF Hunts With Pride who mentions Shessix sometimes. Says she’s bad news on a good day, heavy on discipline and easy to rile up. Apparently, she was in line for a promotion and this whole nasty business put the stops on that for a while. If she decides she’s got a bone to pick with the humans, then our job just got a whole lot harder.”