It had been close to a week since the Plyxii first attacked Libertalia and Freja was sitting in the office of Eirik's grandfather, working hard to keep the empire going despite the war. She received daily status reports from Eirik's staff, and Eirik made sure to take time off every day to call their sons, doing his best to assure the boys that he was completely safe. So far, he had succeeded, but Freja saw things the kids did not. The growing dark ring around Eirik's eyes, the tense shoulders that never relaxed, even when laughing at the boys' antics as they told stories of their daily adventures with their grandfather. The man had been a blessing in disguise, handing off almost all of his work with the Terran navy to his subordinates to spend as much time with his grandchildren as possible. He also oversaw the combat training that Eirik insisted on, and while he was a very different teacher, he was doing an excellent job. She had watched her boys grow stronger and faster under his tutelage and she felt they were safe and secure where they were.
Eirik was also becoming more blunt, becoming a man of fewer words. The joy and thrill of battle had been replaced by a grim determination and a cold precision. The first time she had inquired why no prisoners were coming in from the front he had waved off the question. When pressed, he had told her that they took no prisoners. The enemy could run or face death. She had admonished him for this, only to have him declare his intent to keep things this way. "If anyone wishes harm upon my people, they will face death. Being forgiving is what brought me into this mess. It is time to send a message to the universe. And that message is one of warning!" He had said, and his words kept ringing in her head. Part of her understood the sentiment, the Scandinavian in her recognizing the pragmatic mindset of the Nordic man. Anything that presented a danger to said man, or the people he loved, would have to die. It's hard to be a threat when you are dead.
But the voice of empathy inside of her was crying out in protest. How could he be so careless about life? When she had asked him, his answer had perplexed her. "They made their choice to come attack me, despite knowing what I do to those that fail and survive. Just like I made my choice to take the life of anyone raising a weapon toward me, no matter if they surrender or not. In the long run, it will save lives. Not in this war, but in those that will be avoided in the future by the atrocities I am prepared to commit in this one."
He was still the man she loved, but he had changed so much in such a short time. She just hoped he would keep being his old happy self when around their children.
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Eirik was sitting outside his tent, staring emptily into the fire in front of him. He chose to live and eat as the soldiers he fought alongside, the option to sleep in a secure bunker with a chef's meal every day seeming almost illegally arrogant, considering what he was asking of his troops. Jeanette was watching him from the broken window of the reinforced building that served as a battlefield headquarters in this sector. She sighed deeply as she watched Eirik, worried about the man. He barely slept and was never in his tent. If he got any sleep, he simply dozed off in front of the fire, leaning against the rifle that seemed to be glued to his hands ever since the Plyxii had made landfall. Of course, he rarely fought with it, but he never let it go, just as he had both axe and seax at him at all times, and his spear resting next to his sleeping bag.
She would never understand his insistence on bringing such archaic weapons to battle, but they had saved him more than a dozen times throughout his life, so who was she to question the logic of it? He fought mostly in a PESSA suit, being flown in and dropped off from low orbit, dropping into the heart of the hardest battle in a blaze of exploding shotgun fire and vicious melee combat that left broken and battered corpses in his wake. And he was not alone. 4 PESSA troopers escorted him wherever he went and together they had turned the tide of almost every battle they had engaged in so far.
Not without cost though. Two of the escort soldiers had already been killed and replaced by the third of the army that was kept in reserve further back in the empire, and used for rotating out wounded soldiers. Later, they would be used to rotate out those that were nearing the eighty-day mark in an active warzone. This number had been selected after hundreds of years of study into human psychology during extremely stressful environments, such as battle. After eighty days in the field, a soldier's combat effectiveness would start to rapidly deteriorate and he would need to be rotated out for at least 2 weeks, giving him a chance to get some proper rest.
Eirik's armor itself was already a scorched mess, riddled with holes from lasers and large claw marks from the powerful Plyxii warriors. The engineers worked on it tirelessly whenever he was not in battle, and it was still only in barely serviceable condition. Jesper was off doing the same as Eirik, leading a PESSA combat insertion group, as were David and Bjørn. Las'Tai was in command of the air defenses, her prowess as a ship's captain almost unmatched by all but a few people in Eirik's empire. Knud was leading the triage efforts, and Trasti had set up an impressive communications network and information filtering system, allowing the right updates to reach the correct people in the shortest time possible.
By all accounts, they were doing better than anyone would have expected. Sure, they were losing ground at a steady pace, but they made the Plyxii pay for every inch of ground with rivers of blood and mountains of bodies. At the current rate, the expansion would stop within the next few months. With luck, they could keep a foothold on the planet to stage counterattacks. Of course, all of this hinged on the Kloxna being content with letting the Plyxii run to their deaths.
Eirik wasn't sure that would happen. He was of the opinion that once the Plyxii reached a certain number of losses, they would press the Kloxna to join them in delivering the final blow that would see his army in shambles. If they attacked in force, there was little he could do to stop them, tied up as he was in the current invasion. He simply didn't have the ships or the manpower to see off 2 armies simultaneously. This is why he rarely slept, always pondering possible ideas while waiting for the next cry for help from an outpost under attack. The Plyxii had already learned to be wary once the insertion bombers delivered him and the others to the battlefield, the zooming aircraft being the heralds of doom approaching. He had adopted the habit of opening fire as soon as he was clear of the bomber, emptying the built-in firing mechanism during the fall, opting for melee combat once he was on the ground.
Even in the PESSA suit, he was only marginally larger than a common Plyxii soldier and they knew that the odds were somewhat even in close combat. They had already brought down two of the specialized troopers with him, the rallying soldiers behind them being the only reason he got out alive. They all knew it, and yet they propped Eirik and his two surviving escorts up like they were heroes. Not that Eirik blamed them, in times such as these you needed someone to look to, an icon, that you could rally behind.
Who could he look to when he needed to be affirmed that he was doing the right thing? Eirik got that affirmation whenever he talked to his children. It was the lure of having them back in his daily life that drove him, and he resented both the Plyxii and Kloxna for preventing this.
As Jeanette watched Eirik, she heard heavy steps approaching her and she turned around to see David walking toward her. "David! What are you doing here? Is there trouble in your sector?" She asked full of worry but he waved off her concerns.
"Nothing of the sort, Jeanette. It was time for a supply run and I wanted to see how things were going here." He said as he came up to the window and looked through the broken glass. "...He looks lost." He said when he saw Eirik.
"He is looking for impossible solutions. It occupies his thoughts every moment he is not engaged in combat. He barely sleeps, except for the times he dozes off in front of the fire. He doesn't eat properly, and he switches from almost unreasonable anger to apathetic thinking when he is not actively fighting. He is becoming cruel, David. He executes any enemy that surrenders, even the wounded on the battlefield. And I don't know how to stop this change!" Jeanette was frustrated and scared for her friend. She could see the path he was walking, and it was a path that led to nothing but suffering and misery. What could have happened that made him change so drastically?
"He makes them suffer?" David's voice was sharp as a blade as he asked the question. He had fought, and killed, alongside Eirik almost his entire life, and in all that time they had dealt death as quickly and painlessly as they could. Dragging it out was a cruel thing, reserved for killers and murderers,
"No!" Jeanette adamantly exclaimed. "He kills quickly and without hesitation. But I am worried about the change in his mind. You know this David, he always respected life and surrendered enemies. But not anymore. Now, anyone not wearing our uniform is put to death, no matter the circumstance. If it breathes, it gets killed. This is not Eirik!"
"I understand, Jeanette, but you can see these things because you are in his vicinity. This is the first time I see him since the invasion started and we departed for our sectors. The rest of us have not been able to see what you see. But your words worry me. We both know that Eirik will not be swayed from the choices he has made. Good or bad, he will stand by his convictions, and right now his conviction seems to be making the Plyxii invasion, and Kloxna war, become messages of such brutality that it will deter anyone from attempting anything like it in the future." David took his time in formulating his answer, wanting to make sure his message was delivered properly.
"But at what price? He is going to lose himself in the process! What would drive him to sacrifice so much of himself, just to send a message?" Jeanette was on the verge of tears, her frustration with the situation finally being aired to someone that understood was such a relief.
"Look around, Jeanette. Look at the empire he has created out of planets not deemed worth the effort by others, and a halfway derelict pirate space station. He has done something impossible, carving his name into the hall of legends from the days of old. By his own skill and wit, he managed a feat not done since Terra left the homeworld. If he manages to keep this empire alive, he will be the greatest Scandinavian explorer and conqueror in the history of our people, surpassing the legends of the old heroes by leaps and bounds. And then, there is his family. His three children and two women," David didn't get any further before Jeanette cut in,
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
"Three? I thought he only had 2 sons?" Jeanette was so confused by this that she momentarily about her current issue.
"Ah, shit! I was not supposed to mention that. You never heard this, but that prisoner Sif, that worked with Dalle, she managed to get her claws into Eirik. One thing lead to another and he has a daughter that he didn't know about until a short while ago. I can't imagine Freja reacting favorably to those news." David was embarrassed. He didn't usually gossip and this had been a slip of the tongue, but it was out there.
"You think he would tell her?" Jeanette wondered out loud.
"Of course, he would! Eirik does not keep secrets that cannot be kept forever. Something like that would come out eventually. Better he tells her himself, so she knows that he was honest with her. Having her discover it any other way would only bring more problems, though I imagine that she will not have reacted positively. She was always quite obsessive with Eirik." David answered, his voice slightly indignant at the suggestion that Eirik would try to keep secrets.
"I never knew that! She always seemed so confident in their love." Jeanette was awed at this revelation. Freja had always been levelheaded and calm, even when other women were swarming around Eirik.
"You should have seen her in their late teenage years. Where do you think the aggression to become a bounty hunter came from?" David was reliving their youth as the memories came rushing back. "She was a frothing monster behind the scenes. As much as she played hard to get, she made damn sure that no one else got within arms reach of Eirik. So I dare not imagine how it went down when he broke the news. Hopefully, he made sure to be near their children." David added the last remark to try and lift a bit of the tension in the air, only harvesting a weak chuckle from Jeanette for his efforts.
"You think that is part of Eirik's change in personality?" Jeanette looked out the window again, settling her eyes on Eirik, his chin now resting on his chest, his breathing deep and regular as sleep had taken him. She was worried about him, the way you worry about an old and beloved friend that is becoming a different person.
"Probably. Who can tell? Just make sure to keep me updated. I don't like what you are telling me and I will do my best to try and help him. Want me to go talk to him now?" David turned toward the door and started walking as he spoke.
"No, he fell asleep. He needs the rest. Next time you are back here I would like it if you found him and talked to him." Jeanette said to his back.
"Got it." Was the last thing David said before he left the room and Jeanette turned back to the pile of intelligence reports waiting to be sent out. With a low grunt of resignation, she got back to work.
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Gnar stepped out of the shuttle and set foot on the planet for the first time since the invasion started. After the initial slaughter of his fleet and the following chaos that ensued, he had been busy organizing the landing, deflecting political attacks from the council, and fighting in duels with captains that had lost everything and sought to replace their lost soldiers and wealth by defeating him and claiming everything he owned and controlled, including his seat on the council. After the first few duels had proven that despite his small and lean stature, he was an extremely capable and deadly fighter, the line of challengers had dwindled to almost nothing, and the few that remained were too stupid to understand that brute force would never defeat speed and finesse. Their death was quick, but far from painless.
As he looked around, he was quickly surrounded by a small group of guards and rushed inside. He was stunned by the number of wounded soldiers that were everywhere. as he was ushered inside, away from potential artillery fire. Granted, the Libertalians were currently bombing other defensive outposts that had been taken over by the Plyxii, but no chances were taken with council members. The shame of losing the entire council before ending the war with Terra was still burning hot inside the chest of every living Plyxii and this was a war of retribution against the man that had been the cause of their great shame. At least, this was the case for the common Plyxii soldier. Gnar thought bigger, and his plans encompassed all known species. As the guards that had clustered around him, found their way over to the vacant tables and chairs nearby, Gnar was directed toward the commander's office. A large plate of red meat was placed neatly in front of the comfortable chair that had been brought in for the occasion and Gnar took his rightful place and started eating with the entitlement you only see from selfish people in positions of power.
"Greetings, honored council member." The commander's voice was accommodating and pleasant, a rarity amongPlyxii military leaders. The rough soldier's life combined with the Plyxii acceptance of rank changing owner as a result of duels meant that only the most ornery and dangerous Plyxii attained any real rank within their military, and the commander in front of Gnar was no exception. A massive hulk, even by Plyxii standards, his fur grey and one eye missing, he towered close to 10 feet tall when standing upright. His fur color betrayed his advanced age, another rarity in the military in general, and especially among the Plyxii, and a fresh wound that would have crippled a lesser being, but was a mere flesh wound for this brute, adorned his chest. The singed area around the wound suggested an explosive of some kind and Gnar couldn't help but stare.
"Greetings commander. You will have to forgive my staring, but I have not encountered a wound such as that before. What manner of weapon did these weak primates use to do that?" Gnar replied to the courtesy with the same tone of voice, indicating he was both pleased with the reception and open to a civilized conversation regarding his visit. Both signs assure the commander that his visit was not on account of any trouble.
"Kinetic rounds with explosive charges. Those damn powered suits some of them wear have internal weapon systems. Almost took me down before I put my claw through his chest. My guards took down a second one before the collective firepower of the troops they were protecting, gave them enough room to retreat to the safety of their gun lines. The five of them stopped a successful assault in a matter of seconds, giving the defenders time to regroup and reorganize." The eyes of the commander started shining as he recalled the fight that had taken place just a few days ago, "Just one more minute and we would have taken down their Emperor!" He was salivating at the thought and Gnar could smell the lust for violence burning through the commander.
"You saw Eirik? Here?!" Gnar exclaimed, surprised to hear that the man was fighting on the frontline. He shouldn't have been, he had seen the recordings of his fight with Tai'Tanu. She had been a terrifying opponent, quick as lightning and even more vicious and calculating than himself. He would have been worried if he had to face her, but Eirik had not only done so but even won. Of course, that was years ago, and he was past his prime. Terrans grew slower with age, but stronger as well. At least for a time. He would like to see how the man fought now.
"Saw him? I crossed claws with him! What an absolutely magnificent fight that was shaping up to be! Rarely have I encountered such rage in an opponent. I saw his strikes crush through the blocking blades and claws of my own personal retinue of soldiers, can you believe it? A Terran, striking with enough force to crush a proper block? Sure, those suits give them great strength, but not that much!" The commander was almost giddy at the thought, shocking Gnar with his obvious enthusiasm.
"Careful, commander. It almost sounds like you admire the enemy!" Gnar growled. He did not like the idea of a Plyxii commander of this caliber being enamored by Eirik because of the man's prowess in battle.
"I respect his ability, as any proper soldier would. A combatant that skilled has earned the right to be recognized by both friend and foe alike. Make no mistake, honored council member. I WILL kill him. Even as he tore through my ranks in that suicidal drop that engage in to insert reinforcements to any hot zone, I saw flaws in him. he is in danger of losing control of himself during battle. He was tethering on the chasm of madness as he was fighting, only keeping control by the smallest margins. We will have to find a way to exploit that, and by we, I mean YOU, council member." In an instant, the ornery commander returned to the soldier's demeanor, bristling at the inferred treachery within and fuming at the lack of respect for an underpowered and undermanned opponent that had managed the impossible. Stopping the Plyxii wave of attack dead in its tracks while it was at full strength. Not even Terra had been able to stop them like that. Any enemy capable of that demanded respect wherever he went, from whoever was gazing upon him.
"Are you ordering me around, commander?" Gnar's voice had become a snarl and he could hear his guards outside as they moved to enter the room.
"Not at all, council member, but I am a simple commander of soldiers and would not know the intricacies of how to go about such a task. For that, we I need a brilliant mind such as your own to hatch a plan for me to execute at your leisure." The commander had lost none of his hostile demeanor but his words were as smooth as silk and Gnar suddenly understood the reason for this old veteran still being in command. he was as intelligent as he was big, but he did not seek to elevate his position further than he already had. He had an iron grip on his job with a retinue of loyal officers to enforce his will through the ranks. He was content. He was perfect.
"There is wisdom in what you say, commander, and I agree with your assessment of the situation. Very well, see to it that the primary battlefield headquarters are redesignated to this location and put under your direct control. In the meantime, I shall go about planning the demise of the enemy emperor." Gnar did not wait for a response, but he had time to see the satisfied smile on the commander's face as he turned to leave. Being put in command of the entire land-based invasion force was a definite step up, but still within the hulking soldier's ability to manage. He would have to plant a few spies in his inner circle though. Power tended to corrupt loyalty, and Gnar could not afford to have an enemy with such a command over the troops.
As he reached the door, he had a thought. "Do we know where the Eirik is currently located?" He asked over his shoulder.
"Yes, and no. He moved quickly between the primary defensive outposts in the sector, as do his other commanders in different sectors. Whenever we commit to an attack, they get dropped in from low-orbit in those damnable suits of theirs, delivering kinetic fire as they fall and engaging in melee combat the moment they slam into the ground. They can take immense amounts of punishment before succumbing to the damage, and even then the Terran inside the armor can still be saved by the others. When that happens, they detonate the abandoned suit, rather than have it fall into our hands." Short and precise, the commander gave his report of the situation.
"Can we shoot down the craft that delivers them to the battlefield?" That would be the easy solution, but Gnar was not hopeful. If possible, they would have done so already
"Negative," Came the expected reply. "They direct all their power to shields and engines. They drop the suits from several kilometers away, letting inertia carry them to the battlefield. They turn around before entering the effective range of our weapons."
"We will think of something. Do not worry" Gnar said as he left the room and motioned for one of his subordinates. "Contact the association. Tell them I have an open contract to offer."