Merkiaari Wars Series: Books 1-3 Read online

  Contents

  Full Index Chapter by Chapter

  Join Mark's email list for new releases

  A word on language and pronunciation

  Hard Duty: Merkiaari Wars 1

  Part I ~ Discovery

  Part II ~ Discovered

  Part III ~ Extermination

  What Price Honour: Merkiaari Wars 2

  Part I ~ Marine

  Part II ~ Testing

  Part III ~ Sol

  Operation Oracle: Merkiaari Wars 3

  Part I ~ Miles To Go

  Part II ~ Snakeholme

  Part III ~ Lost World

  Operation Breakout: Merkiaari Wars 4 Teaser

  1 ~ Cops and Robbers

  Other titles by this author

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Extras ~ Sneak Peek

  Index

  Merkiaari Wars: Books 1-3

  By

  Mark E. Cooper

  v1.001

  Get the fantastic audio edition narrated by Mikael Naramore for $1.99!

  A word on language and pronunciation

  These books were written and produced in the United Kingdom and use British English language conventions. For example the use of ‘ou’ in the words colour and honour instead of the American spellings: color, honor. Another example would be the interchangeable use of ize and ise in words such as realise or realize.

  The Shan are an alien species with their own verbal and written language, but for story purposes all Shan dialogue is translated into English. However, names of characters remain as close as is possible to the actual alien name. See examples below for pronunciation:

  Shima = Shee-muh

  Tei’Varyk = Tie-va-rick

  Kajetan = Kah-jet-an

  Fuentez = Foo-en-tez

  Merki = Mer-key

  Merkiaari = Mer-key-ah-ree

  Orbit = year

  Cycle = day

  Seg = hour

  Hard Duty: Merkiaari Wars 1

  1 ~ Discovery

  Aboard ASN Canada

  Year 216 AST (Alliance Standard Time)

  “Captain to the bridge!”

  Captain Colgan turned over and slapped the intercom button. “What is it, Francis?” he said, still groggy from sleep and squinting at her in the glare of the comm’s screen. “Lights one third!” he barked in annoyance, and his cabin brightened.

  “Sorry to wake you, sir,” Commander Groves said contritely, but the excitement Colgan heard in her voice did not diminish. “We’ve picked up a transmission.”

  He frowned at that. They were a long way from the core, and even the Border Worlds were a distant memory out here. Only exploration vessels such as Canada herself dared venture into the deep this far.

  He sat up and began pulling on his uniform. “Source?”

  “Mark has categorised it as unknown sentient, sir. I’ve logged a possible first contact,” Groves said for the log, but then she broke procedure and grinned. “This is it, Jeff, I can feel it!”

  He understood her excitement, but kept his own voice neutral. “I’m on my way. Continue first contact procedures and log everything to chip for immediate transmission. Better download what you have so far to a drone… just in case.”

  Groves straightened her shoulders, gave a crisp nod and cut the circuit.

  That had wiped the grin from her face, and well it should. The last time anything like this had happened, the Alliance had been embroiled in a war with the Merkiaari that had nearly seen Humanity exterminated. That could not be the case here; Merki transmissions would have been recognised instantly. Not only that, the ship would be at battle stations and running for home at max. That they weren’t doing that was reassuring. Groves knew what she was doing, but what was to stop these transmissions coming from another murderously vicious species?

  Nothing.

  Colgan made his way to the bridge; by the time he reached it, he knew what he had to do. He racked his helmet beside his command station and took his seat.

  “Anything further, Francis?”

  “Nothing yet, sir. Our course and speed are unchanged. We have a transmission from an unknown source bearing zero-niner-zero by one-three-two degrees approximately thirty light years out. Mark is coddling his computers while they chew on the data, but I doubt we’ll know much for a few hours.”

  Thirty lights? Maybe a day to get there… not very far at all.

  He pursed his lips as he considered his options.

  Survey missions were considered hard duty stations since by definition ships and their crews were out of contact for prolonged periods. His orders left him a good deal of leeway because of that, but if he chose to go with his first impulse of abandoning their current survey in favour of investigating Mark’s transmission, he had better be right about his reasons for doing so. He needed more data.

  “What can you tell me, Mark?”

  “Well, sir, they’re definitely not Human,” Lieutenant Ricks said, ignoring the laughter coming from helm and tactical. “They’re not Merkiaari either.”

  That sobered everyone. The fear of meeting a Merki warship was very real, but it went with the territory. No one ever found anything by staying home.

  “You’ve told me what they aren’t, now tell me what they are.”

  “Sorry, sir, my analysis is incomplete. I’ve isolated multiple sources and they all seem clustered in the same region of space. At this range it’s difficult to tell, but I think they’re mobile. Call me crazy, but I have a hunch what I’m receiving originates aboard a convoy of alien ships. Sorry, sir, that’s the best I can do from here. I can’t make head nor tails of the language. It’s a miracle we received anything at all—I’m getting mostly leakage.”

  Colgan winced. Leakage was dangerous. Unsecured communications was one reason the Merki had found the colonies so quickly. Nowadays, where tight beam comms (TBC) couldn’t be used, foldspace drones were to eliminate leakage. TBC was secure, but it was limited to ships in close proximity. It was essentially a modulated laser pulse… like blinking flashlights at one another.

  Drones were different. Given enough time their foldspace drives had enough capacity to cross the Human sector of the galaxy. They were slower than using courier ships, but where speed was not an issue, drones were the best way to keep Alliance worlds in contact with each other.

  He wished there was a faster way to inform HQ of Mark’s discovery, but they were too far out for speedy communication. The closest Alliance world to Canada’s current location was Northcliff. He doubted they had a courier ship on hand. If he sent the drone there, Northcliff Port Control would simply re-upload the data to another drone and pass it up the line. No, it would be better to launch straight to HQ and damn the delay. He instinctively felt that the fewer people who handled Mark’s data the better.

  It would take a drone maybe five months to reach HQ, and that was pushing its drive to the max—not really a good idea in this instance. Drive failure could leave the Admiralty ignorant of his intentions and whereabouts until he launched another drone with an update.

  “I want a full diagnostic run on the drone,” Colgan said. “Make absolutely certain that its self-destruct is armed and functioning.”

  Groves cocked her head in surprise.

  It was extremely unlikely for anyone to track and run down a foldspace drone in flight. Theoretically they could be intercepted, but Fleet had ensured that anyone tampering with one would get a nasty surprise.

  Yeah, like a nuke in the mega-tonne range going off in his ship!

  It was locking the barn door after the horse had bolted as far as the Merkiaari were concerned, but who knew w
ho else might be listening?

  “Who else indeed?” he muttered under his breath.

  “Diagnostic complete, Skipper,” Lieutenant Ricks said. “All systems nominal. Self-destruct is in the green.”

  In the green meant that the nuke was primed but safe. It would become active and dangerous the moment it reached minimum safe distance from Canada after launch.

  Colgan swivelled his station forward again. “Download everything to the drone—ship’s log to date as well. Set drive parameters to eighty percent.”

  “Updating the drone now. Destination?”

  “Destination Sol. Alliance HQ.”

  Lieutenant Ricks keyed the drone active with his command codes, and programmed its computer. “Destination set. Ready to launch, Skipper.”

  “Launch.”

  “Aye, sir, launching… drone away… drone has entered fold space.”

  “Very good.” Colgan turned to the helm. “Plot a course for me, Janice. We are going to have a look at these people, but I don’t want a whisper of our presence to reach them. Clear?”

  “As crystal, Skip!” the helmsman, Lieutenant Wesley said.

  “Very good.”

  He waited for the course to be laid in, all the while wondering if he was about to go down in history or down in flames. Had Captain Tibet wondered the same thing when he hailed the first Merkiaari ship to enter the Human sector of the galaxy? Somehow, he thought he probably had.

  And we all know how that went. Please God, don’t let me be responsible for another war.

  “Course laid in, Skipper. Foldspace drive is hot.”

  “Execute,” Colgan said without the tremor in his voice he felt must surely be there.

  “Executing.”

  * * *

  2 ~ Memories

  Approaching Alpha Orbital Station, Thurston System

  Fire. The dream always began with the memory of fire. The buildings burned unattended, the bombardment never ending and ongoing. The shrieks of incoming shells and explosions a constant background noise to accompany Eric’s panting exhausted breaths. He didn’t have the time to worry about the falling glass and steel. None of them did. The Merki troops were also oblivious to the danger. Both sides had been killed by it, neither side could avoid it. The city was dead except for the combatants. Most of the population centres had suffered the same fate.

  The battle of San Luis seemed never-ending. The war had brought it here months ago, and neither side seemed able to overcome the other or admit defeat. The Merki had lost hundreds of ships and millions of troops. The Alliance had lost hundreds of ships and millions of citizens and troops. The system itself had changed hands many times while the ground war continued unabated. The Alliance was currently in ascendance in space, and had managed to fend off the last Merki push. For the first time, the Alliance had prevented reinforcements reaching the planet’s surface and it was having the desired effect. Slowly, the Merki had been pushed back and whittled down.

  The regiment was here entire. That never happened. Never. The risk of losing every combat capable viper by committing them all to one place and battle had always been deemed too high. Yet the madness of San Luis had needed something to smash the stalemate, and when General Burgton had seen the pathetic remnants of San Luis and its people, most half mad and starving, that madness had gripped even him and infected the entire regiment. There was no going back now, no strategic withdrawal, not after seeing the cities carpeted with the bodies of their people.

  Eric and the others had gone a little crazy then, and the General had let them. Vipers never allowed themselves to lose control. Their stability relied upon discipline, and the loss of it could lead to malfunction and death. It need not be enemy action that killed a viper. In the event of serious malfunctions a unit would be scrapped for the good of the regiment. An insane viper would be a horror to behold.

  Eric ran up the street screaming his wrath, not mimicking Merki battle cries as he often did, but simply letting out the berserk rage he felt at the fate of this world’s people. He fired his rifle from the hip into the stampeding Merkiaari’s backs as he ran. His comrades were doing the same thing, and roaring their hate. None cared that they were running into their own artillery barrage. The other Alliance forces with them faltered and halted their advance, not willing to follow them into that hell. None to blame, and no shame in it. It was sense for them to stop and consolidate the gains they had made, but Eric and the others were all in melee mode and boosted to the maximum their enhanced bodies could take. To them, the world had slowed to a crawl. It seemed easy to dodge the flying plascrete and falling steel from buildings being blown apart by high explosive rounds pouring in upon the enemy. All illusion of course. The world hadn’t slowed at all; the vipers had sped up, and they did take casualties despite their speed, but nothing like as many as unenhanced soldiers would. Melee mode meant every resource Eric had was reserved for offence with nothing saved for defence except speed. It was god mode for a viper, and rarely used because it threw caution to the wind. Wounds were ignored, everything but battle was ignored until a unit reached that critical point when he would go into automatic shutdown and hibernation. Hibernation in the midst of battle was death all too often.

  Blinking blue icons on Eric’s display witnessed units down, in hibernation or dead he couldn’t tell, awaiting pickup. Dozens and dozens of his comrades were falling to Merki fire and indirectly to the dangerous environment of artillery inspired shrapnel, but there were hundreds more leaping over the debris of civilisation, leaping high to climb buildings like crazy alien spiders in an effort to gain good firing position, or leaping craters and mounds of bodies to rend their enemies. It was chaos.

  Eric reloaded his rifle and screamed his hate at the enemy again. He selected full auto and poured fire into them. Grenades. He used his entire supply as soon as the thought occurred; his borrowed launcher using his targeting data in a lash up that worked only because it pointed the same way along the rifle’s barrel. No way to use range data. Just point and shoot and adjust on the fly.

  Someone leapt past him and was blasted back, taking a shot that would surely have killed him if it had hit. Blood sprayed over him, and he wiped his face on his already dripping sleeve. He spat the coppery taste out of his mouth and stepped over the still twitching body of his comrade as another blinking icon added itself to his sensor grid. This time, he noted, the unit was definitely in hibernation. Not dead. The thought should have been a relief, but every emotion except hate was a weak and distant thing. The thought uppermost in his head was taking the injured man’s ammo supply. He used his knife to cut away webbing, and then tied it roughly across his chest like a bandoleer. It didn’t seem out of place; there were others already hanging from his armour. Most empty now. He didn’t bother cutting them away.

  Grenades and power cells. Good.

  It meant he didn’t have to stop yet. He gave no other thought to the downed unit behind him. He was in hibernation and that was all that could be said. Nothing but evac would help him now, and that wouldn’t happen until the Merki were cleared out.

  The street ahead was blocked, one of the towers had fallen filling the street with debris. The retreating Merki bunched up and artillery control took full advantage by hammering them in the tight confines of the blocked street. The aliens, starting to panic now, turned to enter a side street. Eric turned aside without a second to consider the danger and ran through flames. The partially collapsed building was fully engulfed; the heat unbearable on exposed skin, but he was a viper and any amount of pain could be endured if it meant he could kill more Merki.

  Damage and warning alerts flashed upon his display as the temperature soared around him. He wanted to hold his breath against the smoke and pollutants in the air as well as the heat that seared his throat and lungs, but he couldn’t. Not and run. His armour smoked in the heat, and he had a moment to worry about the power cells and grenades so recently acquired. What was the flash-over temp of the regiment’s power
cells again? He didn’t have the time to check. Nothing to do about it anyway. He smashed through an already burning door, shot away a partition wall that divided offices, and saw windows overlooking a street. He dove toward them as the ceiling gave way above him.

  Other viper units noticed his new direction and followed, but they were fighting their own war and Eric didn’t have any advice they would listen too. It was every unit for himself this late in the battle.

  Eric crashed onto the street gasping and choking on the pollutants released from burning synthetics, but TRS (Target Recognition Software) didn’t care about anything other than its programming. It acquired the Merki without his input and he opened fire on automatic even as he rolled into the road. The entire action took milliseconds, and he didn’t intervene. He poured fire into the snarling aliens; other units bursting into the street did the same. The shrieking of dying aliens blotted out the roar of the nearby blazing buildings for an instant. Return fire hammered the street and buildings around him. The Merki troopers were in such a panic, their fire discipline was shot to hell.

  Eric got to his feet, dodged left, right, left and jumped reaching for a hand-hold on a building ahead. He crashed into the wall, missed his grip, and fell toward the ground far below. He reached for another hold, anything to arrest his fall as the wall rushed by. Failed again, and kicked hard at a ledge as it flashed by him, launching himself away toward the next building over. He grunted as he hit the target building awkwardly. Damage alerts flashed, but it was nothing serious. Left shoulder only, but it hurt and made his arm tingle. The arm felt slower of a sudden, but usable. The building had taken damage, the wall blasted to ruins, and he had smashed down on jagged broken plascrete. It was well though. A better firing position and one with better hand-holds. He hung by one hand, kicked and shoved himself up until he could hook an elbow in the nearest cavity blasted into the wall by RPG (Rocket Propelled Grenade) attack, and rained fire onto the Merkiaari. He emptied his rifle into them and then pumped grenades as fast as he could. Slowly the enemy withered away to nothing. Eric snarled as vipers ripped and bludgeoned the bodies in a berserk frenzy, reducing them to bits and red paste. He wanted to join them in that, but he was sane enough to realise he couldn’t kill the Merki any deader than they already were. The last few red icons on his sensors winked out one by one.