Chapter 4: Wargames

“The key determinant for any invitation to new members is whether their admission to the Coalition will strengthen the alliance and further the basic objective of Coalition enlargement, which serves to increase security and stability across allied space.”

Jules lowered his tablet and looked up at Bozka, the alien mulling over what he had been told as he scratched his furry chin with one of his clawed fingers.

“You ask what the Araxie can do for your Coalition?” he finally asked.

“I suppose that’s a more succinct way of putting it, yes,” Jules replied. “While I am not a military man myself, I believe that Sergeant Simmons is more than capable of evaluating Araxie combat performance, and making a recommendation as to how they might be incorporated into Coalition units.”

Simmons nodded, Yuta and the other Marines milling about nearby. The air was thick with humidity, and the suns had only just set, their dying embers painting the sky in pinks and reds. This was morning for the Araxie, and the village was rousing, the inhabitants going about their business. They no longer hid from the newcomers in the trees, paying them very little mind now, a few curious stares and lingering glances were all that Jules had received today.

Packs were going hunting, marching towards the curtains of vines that concealed the village in groups of five or six, sporting nets and spears along with the tools that they carried on their person. Others were walking to and from the giant felled log, likely seeking out their breakfast, and still others were setting off on unknown pursuits. Jules noted that none of the activities were divided along gender lines. There were just as many females as males in their hunting parties, and there was no shortage of males tending to unruly kittens.

“You guys do wargames? Training?” Simmons asked. “Sparring, play fighting, anything like that?”

“We do,” Bozka replied, “and I think I understand what you are proposing.”

“Me, my two Marines, and our Elysian guide against a pack of your best soldiers. Bring whatever weapons and gear you want as long as it’s non-lethal, and we’ll have to work out some ground rules. The last squad standing wins.”

“Are your weapons not far superior to our own?” the Patriarch asked skeptically, “it hardly seems fair.”

“Seems fair to me,” Simmons replied with a shrug of his armored shoulders. “You’ve been holding your own against the Rask, right? They have XMRs and body armor, so you must have been doing something right. What weapons do you field anyway, are we talking black powder rifles? Bows and arrows?”

“We have been aware of the powder weapons used by the other territories for quite some time,” Bozka replied as he began to walk. Jules and the others followed behind him as he continued to talk, he seemed to be leading them towards some new area of the village. “For generations, long before this recent wave of attacks, we have struck fear into the hearts of any who would trespass in our lands...”

“Yuta, didn’t you say that the Rask were too afraid to come to Araxie?” Jules asked.

“That was my understanding,” she replied tersely, clearly not fond of being called out.

“She is not wrong,” Bozka replied as a group of locals stepped out of their way, watching curiously as the humans passed them by. “The Rask do not seem to learn, they attack and are defeated, then they develop a fear. They grow bolder over time, they forget the warnings of their elders, and they attack once again. In recent months, it has become far worse. They are emboldened, perhaps by their new alliance with your Coalition. They attacked in large numbers and with much equipment, I fear that next time, we may not be able to hold them back.”

“I’m surprised that such a small village has been able to hold out for so long,” Jules said.

“Don’t be foolish,” Yuta chuckled, “this will only be one of many villages.”

“The Elysian is correct,” Bozka said. “This is the largest village, and it is the seat of the Patriarch, but there are a great many more spread out around the jungle band. In a way, we have the Rask to thank for uniting all of the tribes under one leader. There is safety in numbers.”

“Indeed,” Jules added, hurrying to keep up with Bozka’s loping strides. “That’s the philosophy of the Coalition too, but replace the villages with entire planets.”

“How do you stay in touch?” Velez asked, “I thought you guys didn’t have radio until very recently?”

“We use couriers to transmit messages between villages,” the Patriarch replied. “But if we can obtain more radios, then we can improve coordination and communication.”

It was nice to see him optimistic about some aspect of the Coalition for once.

They arrived at another wooden structure, this one larger than the average dwelling. Rather than having a single door, there were several entrances that were sealed with small curtains made from fabric, not unlike the material that had been stretched across the bed frames.

The Patriarch guided them inside, once again plunging them into darkness, and then he lit another candle with his portable tool. Simmons chuckled, Jules gasping as the flickering light was cast on what was undeniably an Araxie armory. The walls were stacked with weapons, and there were dozens of the camouflaged cloaks that the Araxie guards and hunters wore, the garments laid out on top of tables. There were spears, knives, nets, and all kinds of tools that Jules couldn’t even identify.

“We Araxie prefer something a little more ... discreet than the powder weapons of the Elysians and the Rask,” Bozka said as he reached out and took one of the weapons down from a metal hook on the wall. He handed it to Simmons, who began to turn it over in his hands.

“Well I’ll be. You Araxie are full of surprises...”

“Is that a fucking crossbow?” Velez asked.

It was large, maybe four feet long and change, and it looked heavy. It resembled a rifle, with a buttstock and a trigger that were almost certainly modeled after the powder weapons used by the other territories, but there was a bow at the far end of the contraption instead of a rifled barrel. The string was suspended between two surprisingly short, flexible limbs, and there was a cocking stirrup at the end of the barrel that was large enough for a Borealan foot. It looked oddly advanced for such a primitive class of weapon, the aliens had obviously borrowed design elements from some of their more advanced counterparts while being unable or perhaps unwilling to reproduce them in their entirety.

“This is a fucking beauty,” Edwards said as Simmons handed it to him, almost buckling under its weight. “I used to mess around with compound bows back on Franklin. Look at this, wood and metal construction, the flight groove is so straight that it almost looks machined...”

He shouldered the weapon as best he could, Velez doing him the courtesy of placing a hand under the barrel so that he didn’t topple forward.

“It’s heavy as all hell, but it’s actually pretty light for what it is, they shaved off all the material that they could get away with. Look at the one-piece stock, see how they’ve hollowed it out? It’s got a good grip, almost feels like a pistol grip, and they sanded all of the wood smooth. The thumb hole is placed too far back for a human, but this must be a dream to shoot for a Borealan. Here Yuta, give it a try.”

He passed it to the Ranger, and she weighed it in her hands, shouldering it and closing one eye to look down the iron sights.

“It handles well,” she muttered, “but it can’t match the stopping power of an Elysian rifle.”

“Maybe not,” the Patriarch said, “but it is near silent. If you fire an Elysian rifle in the jungle, then everyone within earshot will know where you are. They would be able to hear you clear across the band. With these weapons, an entire pack of Araxie can fire from cover and go undetected. An Elysian rifle fires a single round, and so does an Araxie crossbow. The bow must be cocked before it can be fired again, but a powder rifle must be reloaded, and so the overall rate of fire is not so different.”

“You fought the Rask with these?” Simmons asked skeptically.

“How else do you think we were able to recover their equipment?”

“So, Araxie armed with crossbows have defeated Rask raiding parties armed with XMRs?” Velez said, whistling his approval. “I guess all the firepower in the world doesn’t help you if you can’t figure out where you’re getting shot from. How do you get through their armor?”

“One simply aims for the neck,” Bozka replied, “there are many joints in the armor where weak points are exposed. Many do not have helmets such as yours, and our bolts can punch through Rask-forged plate armor.”

“Yeah, those helmets are fucking expensive,” Velez chuckled.

“These compound bows don’t fuck around,” Edwards added, “wouldn’t surprise me if these things could fire a bolt at three or four hundred feet per second. You can hunt big game with them, no reason you couldn’t use them in war. If it’ll kill a moose, it’ll probably kill a mad cat.”

The Patriarch reached into a large quiver that was resting against one of the tables and withdrew a long arrow. Rather than an arrowhead at one end, it had what looked like a little bundle of cloth.

“This is what we use for ‘sparring’,” Bozka said, brandishing the odd arrow. “It will not kill, but ... it might hurt somewhat.”

“Soft-tipped arrows?” Simmons asked, examining it more closely. He reached out and squashed the tip between his fingers. “Works for me. So, your guys can use these arrows, and we’ll use the laser sights on our XMRs. There’s no way to make a railgun fire slow enough that it won’t be lethal, but if your guys see a green laser pointer on them, it means they have to play dead.”

The Patriarch grinned, exposing his sharp teeth, Simmons returning the smile.

“This, I like,” Bozka said. “Proving ourselves through combat rather than inspections. No offense, Mister Lambert.”

“None taken,” Jules replied.

The pack of Araxie stood in an orderly row, their features concealed beneath the hoods of their ghillie suits. All that Jules could make out were their green eyes, seeming to glow as they reflected the light. They wielded their massive crossbows, along with all manner of other weapons and tools that were strapped to their rigs and belts. They looked formidable, and for the first time, Jules began to wonder if the Marines would be able to come out on top in their little game. Maybe technology wasn’t everything, this was their home turf, and they looked as disciplined as any UNN soldier.

“Any questions about the rules?” Simmons asked. “You can use any tool in your arsenal as long as it’s non-lethal. If you’re going to use blades, tap your target with the hilt, keep the cutting edge angled away. We don’t want any accidents in the heat of the moment.”

Bozka relayed the instructions in their own language to ensure that they understood, the aliens replying in unison with a guttural grunt of affirmation. They certainly behaved like soldiers, perhaps finding a place for them would be easier than Jules had first assumed.

The Marines were in full combat gear, their black armor plating layered over their Navy-blue suits, and their helmets secured with the visors down. Their XMRs were unloaded, but they still looked dangerous, the magnetic rings that lined the barrels glinting in the low light. Velez aimed his rifle at the nearest Araxie and switched on his laser sight, a glittering, green beam extending from a blocky device that was attached beneath the barrel to paint a bright target on the alien’s chest.

“That means you’re out,” he said.

“And what of the Elysian?” Bozka asked, gesturing to Yuta. “She cannot use her powder rifle.”

“She can use one of the Borealan-sized XMRs that you captured from the Rask,” Simmons said, “one of them probably has a laser sight. It’s this device here, see?”

“I will send for one,” Bozka said, giving an order to one of the Araxie who then strode off into the village.

“We’ll go out into the jungle first,” Simmons continued, “then your guys will have to hunt us down. It’ll give us a good idea of what they can do in a fight. Mister Lambert, you need to stay here. Even if we’re using strictly non-lethal methods, there’s still a danger that you could be injured.”

“Of course,” Jules replied, “I wasn’t expecting to be conscripted. Though I wasn’t quite sure, since you had me wear the armor,” he added as he gestured to the heavy plating that he was wearing over his clothes. “It is a shame that I won’t be able to see the Araxie’s performance for myself, but I’ll just have to rely on your report, Sergeant Simmons.”

“Oh, but you can,” the Marine said with a grin. “Why do you think I asked you to bring your armor with you?”

Simmons stepped forward and unclipped the helmet that was hanging from Jules’ belt, securing it over his head and dropping the visor.

“In-picture squad view,” the Sergeant said.

“Excuse me?”

“If we link all of the helmets up together over an ad-hoc wireless network, you’ll be able to see a window that shows the view from each of our helmet cams. You can even switch between them and set one to full-screen mode. It’s the same tech used for the in-picture sights on the XMRs. As long as you’re within a certain range, it should work well, although there might be some interference from the jungle considering how dense it is. We just have to get you linked up...” He took Jules’ wrist and began to navigate the menus, grumbling as he became frustrated. “Damned twenty character codes...” He brought up his own wrist display and began to type at it with a gloved finger. “You ever try to connect to a wireless network at a spaceport? I bet you have, you look like the business lounge type to me. Imagine that, but with military-grade encryption. There we go!”

A new symbol appeared on Jules’ HUD, a little connectivity icon blinking up in the right corner.

“Welcome to the squad,” Simmons said. “You can switch views through the menu here.”

He tapped at the touch screen, and then three windows appeared, each one showing a different view from one of the Marines. They were tagged with the numbers that he had seen when he had been messing with the settings the first time. One of the views expanded as Simmons swiped, and Jules was amused to see himself, the view from Simmons’ helmet making him feel as if he had just switched places with him.

“You got it?” Simmons asked.

“Yeah, this is great,” Jules chuckled. “You think they’ll notice if I just put this helmet in my suitcase and take it home with me?”

“Probably,” Simmons laughed, “these things cost an arm and a leg.”

By the time they were done setting up the helmet, the Araxie that Bozka had dispatched had returned with one of the recovered XMRs. She passed it to Yuta, who removed the magazine and looked the weapon over.

“Filthy Rask, it’s not hard to keep these guns clean,” she grumbled as she picked grains of sand out of the joints between the plastic housing with her claw. It did indeed have an under-barrel laser sight, and so it looked like they were good to go. “Someone must watch over my charge while I am gone,” Yuta added, looking pointedly at Jules.

“I will see to his safety,” Bozka replied.

“Right, let’s get moving,” Simmons said. The Marines followed behind him as he set off towards the nearest exit. “Give us a good half-hour’s head start, then send your guys in after us.”

Simmons parted the leaves of the waist-high ferns as he slowly advanced through the undergrowth, Edwards and Velez flanking him on the left and right. He raised a hand to his helmet, cycling through view modes using the physical controls.

“Nothing on the thermals,” he said, his voice coming through with a crackle of static. He turned up the microphones, the onboard computer filtering out the louder sounds of jungle wildlife, enhancing the quieter footsteps and the rustling of the leaves. He switched back to night vision mode, casting the forest in shades of ghostly green.