PRIME

  Copyright © 2024 E.J. Fisch

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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  A full dramatis personae and glossary of series terms and locations can be found at

  www.ejfisch.com/glossary

  View a full-size galaxy map at ejfisch.com

  Part One:

  THE BRIEFING

  The massive, translucent hologram of a planet dominated the front of the small briefing room, casting its blue-green light on the walls and the faces of those present. A red beacon pulsed on the outer edge of the projection, marking the location of a bunker on the planet’s surface that had been unknown until the previous day. Not even the previous day, really—a mere ten hours had elapsed since recon specialists from the Grand Army of Haphez had confirmed the coordinates and finalized the intel package. No one could ever fairly accuse the GA of being slow to react.

  That red beacon burned into Emeri Arion’s vision, reflecting in eyes roughly the same shade of turquoise as the hologram itself. He kept his gaze fixed on the steady blinking as the planet rotated slowly, paying little mind to the man in black fatigues who paced back and forth through the projection. The man’s commanding voice filled the room, but at this point it was little more than muffled noise in Emeri’s head. It wasn’t that what the man was saying didn’t matter; it was merely that it wasn’t new information. Much of the material being presented in this briefing had originated from Emeri himself. It was the reason he was here aboard a military ship and not working the problem from back home on Haphez.

  The planet depicted in the hologram was Sardonis, a wet, swampy world with a handful of dense cities and even denser jungles that made aerial recon anything but simple. The ship aboard which Emeri sat was on course for Sardonis now, its FTL drive burning hard in order to deliver the company of GA marines in this room to the location marked by the beacon as soon as possible.

  Wild to think this conflict between Haphez and the Sardons had persisted for six months already; the only reason it hadn’t ended long ago was because the Sardons had enlisted the help of the Biasi, a neighboring race that had managed to test the Haphezian forces with sheer numbers. Emeri wasn’t a true soldier, but even he could recognize how the enemy was like a swarm of insects—pesky and overwhelming at first glance, but ultimately easy to kill. There were just a lot of them, resulting in the occasional hole in Haphezian ranks the crafty Sardons hadn’t hesitated to exploit. Which brought Emeri to where he was now.

  “Now you’ve heard the what,” said the man in the fatigues. A couple of the marines had referred to him simply as ‘Command.’ “Let’s review the why. Captain?”

  Hearing the title was enough to pull Emeri from his thoughts. He stood, straightened his uniform jacket, gathered up the data pad from the seat beside him, and strode to the front of the room. The gazes of all the soldiers present shifted to him, but the wary glances they’d been throwing him since his arrival had already conditioned him for this moment. He took his position beside the hologram, unfazed by the renewed stares.

  “Presenting Captain Emeri Arion,” Command said, “Haphezian Special Police field operations. He will be joining us for this mission.”

  Emeri took one last glance at the data pad before placing it on the podium and adopting an at-rest stance. “Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat. “I realize it’s not exactly orthodox for HSP personnel to be involved with a military operation—”

  A couple of the marines exchanged a glance, and one even nodded outright.

  “—but I can assume most of us are intimately familiar with the concept of desperate times calling for desperate measures.” He turned and indicated the red beacon still blinking upon Sardonis’s holographic surface. “Somewhere inside this bunker, there are two Haphezian citizens, which should be reason enough for each of us to go through with this mission. But these citizens happen to be two of the top minds associated with caura treatment development, and they are stationed primarily at HSP’s medical center. Which is why I’m here.”

  Emeri waved a hand over the data pad on the podium; the hologram of the planet shrank to the size of his fist, hovering off to the side as it was replaced by new projections of the two scientists—a man and a woman. Their dossiers were displayed beside their agency ID images, but the raw data was moot at this point. He wanted the marines to see their faces.

  “These people have plenty of experience handling highly classified information, but they are not like you or I. They are not soldiers. We have to assume they will not be able to withstand the Sardons’ interrogation techniques for long, and they will break. HSP considers them valuable assets, and we have been tasked with retrieving them with all due haste. In the worst-case scenario, we are to…ensure the knowledge they possess does not fall into enemy hands. At any cost.”

  Even speaking the words filled Emeri with righteous anger, and he was pleased by the looks of grim determination on all the soldiers’ faces. What the damn Sardons thought they would accomplish by kidnapping these people, he did not know. Objectively, he had to give them a little credit; the Haphezians may have considered them a bunch of semi-amphibious swamp dwellers, but all things considered, they’d made some impressive technological advancements. The problem was they often sought to multiply those advancements by stealing technology from other cultures.

  This whole conflict had started because they had the audacity to think they could take something from the Haphezians by force. The caura treatment the captive scientists were responsible for developing was one of Haphez’s most prized possessions. One would never have expected the most miraculous healing agent in Haphezian history to be derived from the salivary glands of the nastiest, most aggressive reptile on the planet, but here they were. The enzymes in the saliva attracted and multiplied the body’s natural healing properties a thousandfold. Most wounds could be mended in hours, broken bones repaired in days.

  In a rare gesture of goodwill, the Haphezians had initially offered the Sardons a sample of the extract along with a rigorous, lengthy contract, which the Sardons had refused to honor. A subsequent refusal by the Haphezians to negotiate any further had resulted in the Sardons attempting to take some of the caura lizards by force. Naturally, this had not gone well. One thing led to another, and now here the two races were engaged in a full-scale war. Emeri hoped it would be over soon, but he’d thought the same thing from the outset six months ago.

  He’d spent plenty of time in the past weeks dwelling on all of this, so the couple of seconds he spent considering it again made little difference. Everyone present understood the stakes just as well as he did. The Haphezians in general weren’t keen on sharing anything, let alone this relatively new miracle serum they’d developed, and especially not when that serum could give them an edge over the very people attacking them for it. The whole situation was absurd on every level.

  He took one last pointed look at the two dossiers before bringing up the hologram of Sardonis again. “The intel package estimates the bunker where the hostages are being held only extends three, maybe four levels underground. It is secure, but its remoteness is its first line of defense. Knowing its location is half the battle.”

  The red beacon stopped blinking as he touched that spot in the projection, and the hologram expanded to show an aerial view of the little compound, captured by a Haphezian reconnaissance probe. Aside from the bunker itself, there was a landing pad, only large enough to accommodate a couple of small ships—nothing bigger could get through the dense jungle canopy anyway. A shallow, swampy lake interrupted the thick foliage nearby.

  “Your briefing mentioned an amphibious approach,” Emeri continued, “which seems all too appropriate given the nature of the opposition.”

  This earned him a couple of chuckles.

  “Scans indicate that a large drainage pipe runs from the second level of the bunker and into this reservoir.” He marked the precise location in the hologram. “The drop ship will deposit us in the jungle out here, and we will breach the bunker via that pipe. We will neutralize any Sardon resistance, recover the hostages, and exfil through the main entrance for pick-up on the landing pad.”

  The mission had its nuances for sure, but ultimately, it was as simple as that. An easy in-and-out as far as extractions went. But Emeri couldn’t shake the feeling that something about it was too easy. The intel package had been put together so fast…but the GA’s recon analysts were good at what they did. This bunker didn’t boast a large security force…but it was remote and hidden and didn’t warrant one. He chalked up his reservations t o his lack of familiarity with military ops like this; his investigative experience had simply taught him to spend more time examining situations from all angles. A few of the marines sitting before him offered confident nods in response to his words, alleviating some of his concerns. If the whole team went into this op on the same page, they were more likely to come out the other side successful.

  Command rose and turned to address the group. “We’re two hours out from Sardon airspace. Gear up and report to the drop ship. We’ve got a job to do here, gentlemen. Let’s get it done and be back here in time for dinner. Dismissed.”

  Part Two:

  THE ALLY

  Emeri ran a hand across the row of pouches on his supply belt. Each of them was made of a stiff material and included a waterproof seal to protect their contents on amphibious missions. The larger pouch strapped to his left thigh was the same, as were the many pockets in the utility vest he wore over his tactical wetsuit. The boots he’d donned were soft and flexible but retained rigid soles, allowing him to swim more easily and then adapt immediately to solid ground. Each team member was armed with a compact carbine and a sidearm—all specialty water-resistant projectile weapons, rather than plasma—as well as a small blade. A minimal loadout was ideal for this op.

  From where he sat on one of the benches in the ship’s armory, he had a clear view of the rest of the team, scattered around the room and exchanging banter amongst themselves as they performed final equipment checks. There were six of them, for a total of seven bodies including Emeri. He hadn’t bothered learning any of their names and planned on referring to them by the numerical designations they each used within their own ranks. He’d been assigned the code name ‘Naenko,’ a species of fish native to Haphez’s Tranyi River. It was an apt designation, as the naenko was known for attaching itself to larger aquatic life to move greater distances. It was along for the ride, so to speak. But it was also regarded as a parasite by those in the fishing industry, and he had a sneaking suspicion that fact had been taken into consideration when assigning the name to him.

  He finished securing his weapons and picked up the compact respirator mask tethered to his suit, but the device was jostled out of his hand when someone’s knee collided with his spine. He schooled his facial expression and turned to find the team leader—known to him only as One—hovering over him. The collision had not been an accident.

  “You going to be able to keep up, HSP?” the man sneered.

  “You worry about yourself,” Emeri replied plainly, returning his attention to the task at hand. It was a far cry from the snappy response he wanted to deliver, but he wasn’t about to waste any energy getting sucked into an argument.

  One seemed to realize his barb wasn’t going to evoke the desired reaction. With a snide chuckle, he pivoted and continued on his way, but he was immediately replaced by another figure who took a seat on the bench.

  Emeri spared the figure a glance and found Six sitting beside him. According to the team roster, he was the squad’s medical officer, just as skilled in combat as the others, but bringing emergency medicine to the table as well.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Six said, watching the rest of the team as he spoke, his indigo eyes keen and alert. “They like to give newcomers a hard time, but you can expect them to be one hundred percent focused and professional on the op.” He remained quiet for a moment, then swiveled and offered his hand. “Corpsman Anson Baez.”

  Emeri huffed a quiet sigh, wholly uninterested in making friends but also not wishing to alienate these people any more than necessary. He returned the handshake, stricken for a moment by Baez’s face. This man was older, perhaps in his late thirties, close to Emeri’s own age. A thirty-seven-year-old Haphezian soldier or HSP agent was verging on elderly in the eyes of their younger counterparts; the harsh demands of those professions, particularly within the scope of Haphezian culture, often meant people were forced into retirement—or worse—by age forty. That, in turn, meant anyone who was still in those fields at such an age was there for a damn good reason. Maybe he had more in common with this man than he’d expected.

  “Emeri Arion,” he replied, though Baez had already gotten an introduction during the briefing.

  “How’d you end up with this detail?”

  “Volunteered.” It was tempting to leave it at the one-word answer, but Baez seemed friendly enough, and it occurred to Emeri that developing a little rapport with one of his new comrades might not hurt, especially given the aloof nature of the others. “I oversee a unit of several field ops teams who have been responsible for security surrounding caura development in the wake of the initial Sardon attacks. When the scientists were taken and the agency called for a GA liaison, I knew it needed to be someone already familiar with the situation.” He snorted. “Still trying to play the young man’s game, I suppose.”

  “I hear you there,” Baez said, pointedly scratching the side of his head. Not even the high-and-tight haircut could hide the hints of gray at his temples. “I’ve seen my share of combat over the years, but I’ve spent the past several months getting to practice actual medicine at the GA’s Na Facility.”

  Emeri raised a brow. Located on Na, Haphez’s only life-sustaining moon, the facility was the Grand Army’s premier medical and rehab center. Anyone who could hold down a position there would be a huge asset on a strike team like this. “Good for you. What field?”

  “Lately I’ve been working under the Facility’s head trauma surgeon. I was starting to really enjoy it…until these Sardon shouka souhns dragged me back into active duty.”

  The Sardons had dragged a lot of people back into active duty, and though the concept wasn’t quite the same among HSP’s ranks, the sentiment still resonated strongly with Emeri. He drew a breath to speak then decided against it, not yet prepared to admit aloud exactly how he felt. He’d put in a lot of time in field ops—seventeen years now, to be exact—and it was beginning to take its toll. The simple truth was he wasn’t in his prime anymore. The last thing he wanted was to suffer through some debilitating accident that left him useless for the remainder of his life. Like Baez with his medical practice, there were a number of other passive leadership opportunities at HSP that would allow him to stay engaged and build on his past skills and experiences without setting foot in the field. His current status as unit captain meant some of those doors were already wide open for him, should he choose to enter them.

  But now was hardly the time to be thinking about all of that. He offered Baez a commiserating chuckle and once more turned his attention to his respirator mask, ensuring the tether kept it attached to his suit in the correct position.

  The other man stood and clapped Emeri on the shoulder. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little odd to have a stranger thrown into the mix on this team, but I for one am glad to have you here, Captain. There’s only so much the GA and HSP can each do on their own.”

  Emeri watched as he sauntered off toward his comrades, feeling somewhat reassured about where he stood with these people. Still, the sooner this was all over, the better—both the mission and the war itself. Heaving another sigh, he performed one final inventory check then stood, ready for whatever the Sardons were about to throw at him.

  Part Three:

  THE INFILTRATION

  The low hum of repulsors broke the silence of the jungle. The tiny drop ship swooped in to hover a mere four meters off the ground, noiseless aside from the hum and the rustling of the surrounding trees courtesy of the displaced air. A hatch opened on the bottom of the vessel, allowing a series of figures to descend on cables. Seven pairs of boots settled onto the damp, spongy ground, and the drop ship ascended and disappeared beyond the thick jungle canopy. The forest fell completely silent once more, and after several seconds, the chirps of insects and calls of birds resumed as though nothing had happened.

  Emeri swept his gaze over his surroundings, finding nothing but unoccupied jungle on the other end of his carbine. The drop ship was stealthed; the only way anyone might have spotted it was with their naked eye, and the trees helped on that front. His attention shifted to the faces of the six marines. Satisfied that there wasn’t a battalion of Sardons waiting for them, One gave the signal, and they all took off toward the lake.

 

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