Cindy gazed at the intricate plans of the imposing Lieutenant. It was a nearby fusion plant, fairly small, but still a key part of the local infrastructure. It powered the shield they were under as well as the entire district. It took her a while to decipher all the icons on the map, unfamiliar with the variety Genesis used. She knew a fair bit of the standard ones, but the supersoldiers used far more. It turned the small map into a colouring book, but she forced herself to familiarise herself with each and every one of the signs.
It was an ingenious way of planning, really. The time tested method of using symbols and colours to indicate friend and foe and types of equipment or personnel was a familiar concept to every army, but this was a level beyond it. Probabilities, communication radii, weapon zones, population density, there was a lot of it. It covered close to everything.
She narrowed her eyes as she looked at the timer and saw that it was nearly morning. Rush hour was approaching. Even in the backwater alleys of a densely populated planet, that equalled a lot of traffic and their accompanying congestions...
"Lieutenant," she said as she reached out to some of the projected attack vectors. "I have a suggestion..."
Commander Grevorich swore as yet another urgent report came in, despite his explicit order to not be disturbed unless something planet-ending came along. It kept most of the commanders down on Nagalan off his back as they contented themselves with their favourite past-time of waiting, but the civilian administrators and politicians dealing directly with the Imperial infiltrators weren't willing to wait. They were flooding his command staff with endless reports of violent unrest in the slums, of metal monsters tearing through everything they encountered, of ghosts that refused to be caught on any form of surveillance. And there were dozens upon dozens of those reports. It simply didn't end. And the enemy had only been on the planet for three hours.
"Blasted mass-murdering bastards," Gilgi swore. "Gunning down defenceless civilians..." the man fell silent, barely managing to contain his fury. His face was contorted in anger and had turned into a bright red. Gilgi wasn't the only one who felt that way; the entire command centre was brimming with rage at how the Imperials were treating their compatriots.
Grevorich' eyebrows narrowed and he slammed his fist down on the table. "Calm yourselves. They want to unbalance us." His words rang through the room and he let their echo die out before continuing. "Don't let them. Focus on the task at hand. Keep your anger under control and let it fuel your actions. We either grow angry now and pay the price later, or we suffer through these casualties at present and ensure that it stops there. Hop to it!"
He watched the men and women under him nod, some reluctantly, others with renewed determination, as they tried to shift their focus back on their work rather than their burning anger. He gestured towards Nayasi, who nodded in understanding and switched off the screens projecting news from the planet below. He had underestimated the woman. She was young, pretty as a picture, no longer horribly dolled up thanks to a quick visit to the toilet, visibly relieved to be seen as an officer rather than a piece of meat, and, to his surprise, in possession of an intellect that could cut steel. She was young and her inexperience showed, but there was raw potential there. Possibly even exceeding his own. Gilgi was doing his best as well, working hard and quick, but he was too passionate. Nothing that age would not temper, but for now it meant he would have to be kept on his job with a firm hand.
And there were more, dozens of officers all around him that were proving themselves one way or the other. Some would need replacing, but most seemed to accept the change of regime with relief and bloomed despite the crisis. God willing, the Novic Confederacy would have thousands of capable men and women leading them in the years to come. But, he thought, for that to happen we need to survive this battle first. He had already suspected that the Empire would throw special forces down on the planet, but the reports had confirmed it. A full mobilisation was happening on the planet below. Millions of soldiers were being called into action, but it would take time, despite their supposed "ready" status. Few of them were genuine combat units and that meant they struggled to set up patrol routes, gear up properly and communicate with their surroundings. The few commanders with actual experience behind their belt were pulling Herculean efforts in an attempt to stem the tide and get everyone where they were needed. Things weren't helped by the convoluted command structure and the coup. Confusion reigned all around and the newfound military management was stressed to the high heavens in an attempt to establish a proper network. Those in charge were by and large capable men and women, but this was beyond anything they had ever had dealt with.
"Our military was ready for peace," he grumbled. "Not for war." He sighed and willed himself to look away from the military reports, trusting in their absolute numerical superiority, and began reading the newest report. It once again spoke of something unbelievable. Of armoured juggernauts, clad in enormous power armour, stampeding down a main street, slamming aside vehicles and pedestrians with negligible ease, gunning down hundreds more, before suddenly disappearing. He frowned. This was different. Usually the reports were similar, but always happening in back alleys. This was different. Far more daring and brutal. "Captain, connect me with Mayor Grubolo."
"Yes sir, calling him now."
It took several moments before the mayor came into view. Grubolo's face appeared on the feed. He wasn't young, clearly past his fifties, but his eyes were clear. The old man looked worse for the wear, exhaustion covering his face. It was a good sign. It meant Grubolo took his job serious and understood the gravity of the situation.
"Commander, thanks for hearing me," he began, letting out a deep sigh. "The reports are... Devastating. Over three hundred deaths and far more missing. I fear the worst for them. I am..." he trailed off, rubbing his wrinkled temples with his hands. Every move spoke of exasperation, of barely contained anguish and revealed him for the broken man that he was. "I am trying to contain the panic, but..." He gestured and the feed jumped to news flyers. Thousands of people were rushing all around. Police stations were being swamped with inquiries and the military quarter wasn't off any better. Supermarkets and pharmacies were being assaulted and looted and rioting was the word of the day. Then the view changed into the abandoned main street.
"That is where they struck during rush hour, sparking the panic. I..." The man swallowed audibly. "I have reports from eye witnesses. They tore through everyone." His voice was a low whisper, raw with emotion. "They didn't care who they killed. They ploughed through cars, trams and people, shooting as they went. My men found the—" He brought a quick hand to his mouth and for a moment Grevorich thought the mayor would throw up. "They found the remains of a police patrol that responded. I... I've sent you the reports, commander. God forgive me, I can't..." The man clasped his hands around his face and began to sob, finally breaking under the stress.
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Grevorich felt his heart burn for the poor man in front of him. A man suited for peace, not war. And just like him, there were billions of others on the planet who were meant to live in peace and had now been sucked into the bloody reality of urban combat.
He shook his heads and willed the thoughts out. He couldn't focus on the dead and the dying. His duty was for the living. "Connect me with your inspectors, mayor. You just focus on relief efforts and keeping your people indoors." Pure wrath constrained his voice as his eyes darted over to the casualty reports. "We'll make sure the bastards are brought to justice."
Cindy was panting as she leant against the metal wall of the power plant. This was the second one they had struck, and their fifth target of the day. She tried to collect her thoughts, but struggled. She looked over to her superhuman compatriots, who were busy sneaking explosives into hard to spot and harder to reach places. If they hadn't been coated in a thick layer of blood and gore, it would have been impossible to guess what they had just done. She sighed and unclasped her helmet, reached out for a plastic bottle of water and greedily drank from it. It wasn't native to her equipment, but one of the Genesis had briefly paused at a supermarket to loot it for supplies. Her tired brain giggled at the thought of a heavily armoured superhuman soldier robbing a store of bottles of water and some boxes of nutrient bars. Stars above, she was exhausted. They had been running all day, without tiring. She had no hard numbers, but if they'd crossed less than two hundred kilometres today, she'd eat her badge. Not that she had run even half of it. The Genesis had taken turns carrying her when her legs had given out, or simply escorted her on a different route while the rest chased down their objectives.
Still, her pride wasn't fully shattered. Her advice had helped. With panic spreading like wildfire through the population their jobs had gotten significantly easier. Between hospitals mounting desperate expeditions to reach the wounded, police fruitlessly trying to restore public order and the military helplessly trying to get a grip on what was going on, the Novicans were broken by the unmitigated chaos that reigned on the planet. A bit of hacking here and there and she had gained access to the full picture and she was delighting in it. The coup had disoriented the chain of command, the destruction of their headquarters and lack of a clear lead made it worse and she and the rest of the invasion force were capitalising on it. Loose ends were being burned off and stagnating soldiers were slowly awakening from their comfortable stupor, but it was a race against the clock and the timebomb that the civilian population was.
Now it was a matter of maintaining that lead. Genesis would see to that. It was her job to ensure that the riots kept growing, that panic kept spreading and that enemies that seemed to get themselves together would be targeted.
Because, she had discovered, Genesis doesn't see those weaknesses. It had been a relief to discover that they weren't perfect. They were following their predetermined orders, but didn't break out beyond those parameters. They overlooked opportunities because their analytical, straightforward minds simply didn't recognise them. And, to her surprise, the supersoldiers listened. They didn't understand the point of striking during rush hour, nor did they see the importance of taking over a local news station, but they executed her suggestions all the same. She was helping.
It did a lot to keep her pride intact. Especially when she looked around. Novican Command hadn't caught on to their plans yet, but even so this plant had been well defended. Mostly civilian contractors with a few military advisors, but they had been numerous, reasonably skilled and surprisingly well armed. Unless you showed up with the mother of all power armour, of course. It hadn't been a fight. Genesis had come through the front door, the back door, the loading bay and in one spectacular case, straight through the wall. She still felt a sense of childlike awe when she recalled how that one soldier had just charged at the wall, then into it, then through it. The man hadn't even needed to pull out his carbine after that, the heavy machine gun nest had been flattened just by his dynamic entry.
She smiled at the memory. There was something immensely satisfying at seeing Genesis break through on every front with ridiculous ease. The putrid scent of blood, organs, excrement and gore didn't bother her. The sour, overwhelming odour of raw fear and panic failed to disturb her as well. To her they smelled of victory. Of proof that the Empire was right. One could argue that they were slaughtering innocents, that it was cruel and heartless, yet she would counter that the Novicans refused to recognise the vital role that these men and women played in supporting the military. War struck at any target it could. It was a fight for survival, not for something as silly as honour. If a nation did not want its people to die, it should either bow to their invaders and pray for mercy, or arm up and defend itself to the last. The Novicans had simply failed to protect themselves. That was all there was to it. If the roles were reversed, she would be expecting no pity either.
Her eyes drifted along the thick lines that carried power out of the fusion reactor into the city. It looked a bit akin to a human heart, connected to its surrounding body. It brought power to thousands of homes, warmed them, let them cook and browse the datanet. It powered their vehicles, their datapads, ensured their little society went on undisturbed. And it powered the local shield projector, which shielded the Daravit munitions factory. Thousands of tonnes of missiles, grenades and other heavy munitions rolled off its assembly line on the day, to be taken up into space for further distribution. It was a good target.
She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about the next one.
Then she was woken up by Dreamer, half an hour later. "Admiral," came his emotionless voice. "We are moving."
She muted herself and let out a long groan, then got up, no longer surprised at the lack of an outstretched hand to help her up. She was beginning to get a feel for the inhuman men and woman around her. They were slow to spot opportunities stuck in their own ways, but when you opened their eyes...
"Where are we going next?"
"The mayor's office, as you suggested. He has called for a meeting of specialists to discuss the invasion."
A blood-thirsty grin slowly spread out on her face.
Yes, when you opened their eyes, they would grasp the chance offered.
And choke the life out of their foe.