Chapter 2

“Brrrrrrt!” spat the mwans, sending a hail of ten-millimeter rounds at the creatures. There was, of course, very little recoil since the rounds were self-propelled out of the barrels. Once they left the barrels their boost phase kicked in and they were soon travelling well over the speed of sound.

The guided rounds struck true and ... a little blood began to trickle from the holes drilled into the things.

“Gunny!” shouted Private Ojimbwa, a short South African, “We hit, not slowing them down!” The stress of combat thickened his accent.

“Shit!” Gunny James said under his breath, he looked over catching Sergeant Reinhard “Hard” Schmidt’s eyes, “Where are the Wizards?” He mouthed, not wanting to say anything over the radio.

In combat, a leader could not introduce doubt in their troop’s minds. Wondering about the location of support from the wizards, might do just that.

As if his question had summoned them, the pair of channelers came around the corner behind the marines.

“Sorry Gunny, we should have been here at the drop!” 1^st Lieutenant Sooleawa Temahikan of the Algonquin People apologized. Wizards in general weren’t big on call signs, Lt Temahikan especially disliked them. They were too informal, too personal. With her was 2^nd Lieutenant Cahaya Ong, a short, friendly, Malaysian man with an amazing intellect.

“Ma’am, we got two hostiles, mwans don’t seem to be doing a lot”, he said over the local comnet, there was no time for recriminations. That could come in the debrief, assuming they lived. Facing an untested threat like this ... there was no guarantee. If nothing else the data from the ships black box would make it, providing something for the smart folks on Earth to use.

She grimaced and said, “OK, if you guys will cover us ... we have some stuff ready. If it’ll work on a drake, it should work on these things.” The channelers had been watching on their see-through HUDs on the way down from deck one where they had been manning the rune cannon stations.

“Ready when you are Gunny!” she confirmed with a nod to the senior non-com.

Gunny explained to plan, “All right, bubbles ... skirmish line, best two blades up front, at the top of the passageway. The rest grab holds near the deck and keep firing. The wizards must go into the passageway to use their stuff ... those ... things will have to go through us to get ‘em! Copy?!”

“HUA!” shouted the marines ... somethings never change.

“GO!” Gunny ordered.

The best two blades were Ojimbwa and Schmidt. They drew their short swords, a familiar and trusted style of weapon adapted from the Roman Gladius. The main difference is these had a round hilt guard like you might find on a Japanese Wakizashi and a curved spiked hand guard that was quite useful as an augment to a trooper’s fist. The pommel was a steel ball, also an effective tool in a fight when bashing something was more effective or just more expedient than stabbing or cutting.

Ojimbwa took the outside position, a toe tapping the bulkhead to steady himself with Schmidt taking the inner. The rest of the squad grabbed handholds and resumed firing as soon as they could get their weapons pointed roughly in the right direction. Even with guided munitions, the chaos of a fight could still result in friendly fire. Muzzle discipline (making sure you didn’t point the weapon at someone you didn’t want to shoot) was still a highly emphasized training item.

Once the marines were set the channelers moved in behind them, pulling out the arcane tools they needed to support the brave marines.

Shooting at drakes was terrifying, but they were part of training. Marines expected to engage them. These new horrors were something to test anyone’s mettle.

As the defenders entered the passageway, the creatures became ‘excited’ giving out a series of coughing roars that started in the middle of a person’s hearing range and then dropped into a bone shaking bass that could only be felt. They began to try to move forward more quickly, though they were still impeded by their involuntary grasping at various projections, stabilizing rings, and loops.

Lt Sooleawa pulled out a metal ring adorned with etched runes and feathers. In her low voice she began chanting in her native Algonquin.

Similarly, Lt Ong brought out something that would be recognizable to anyone who read fantasy novels. A pair of wands. One was made of silver inlaid with lapis. The other was plain by comparison. A crooked piece of wood wrapped in animal hair with small bells tangling from it. He also began to chant.

The channelers implements began to glow with changing patterns of light. Runes and other adornments began to be consumed, some with a flash and smoke, others with wave patterns seeming to fade and rematerialize until they disappeared.

The chanting grew to a crescendo, and then with no other preamble lightning and fire erupted from the hoop and wands.

The mana created elements crashed into the horrid creatures.

The lightning that erupted from Lt Sooleawa’s hoop impacted the creature on the left causing it to freeze in place as the electricity engulfed it.

The energy could not be contained and exited through the beast’s eyes, its head exploding in a shower of black and green ichor.

The creature on the right seemed to fair better under the caress of flame from Lt Ong’s wands.

Its skin blackened and it roared in pain. The flaming attack seemed to focus its attention on its tormentor.