The Order of the Winged Eye
Ý̭̘̻̜ͅo̰u̟͈̟̻͙ͅr͚͎̤͈̟͙̯͘ ͉g̵̠̝͎̭̲̬o̟̳͖d͓̥s̫̮̹ ̡͖ṣ̸̲̺̩ͅh͕͖́o͚̗̯̙u̫̘̤̝͎͜l͏̤̞d̶ ̢̤͇͍͙̜̬b͍e͚͕̭̹͜ ̺̦̠̻̜̬͔ṯ̛̯̝̬̳̠̼h̙̭͙̰̱͓a͏͍ͅn̢ḳ̴̜̫̫f̷͎̥̰̲̼u̴̲̥̯̺͕͈ĺ̝̼̞
]
T҉h̞̯̙͖̀at̼͎̥̗̭̦̱ ̝̝̠th͓͇̱̼͕e̜̝͉̣̟̦͠ S͚̟̬̀è̲̗͖͖̼v͙̬̠̞e͕̳̪̕n͉͕̗̲̠̻͢ ̟̝̝s̢̜̺̫̲͚̤͓ḽ̢̖̠̯̘e̱͙̭͚̬͢e҉̗̲͇͇͍ṕ̘
EXPEDITION ONE
THE VRESH HIVE
Saulara, Juraxi System, Vresh Dead Zone
Along the spacious, golden savannahs of the Saularan surface, the expedition trekked. Long trails of crushed native scrubs and grasses winded back all the way to the landing site where the two stealthships, now coloured sky-blue, waited with drives in shutdown mode. Forty-three sets of footprints were the only trace of the trespassers on the dry plains. Only the keenest wildlife noticed the operatives as they walked in a rough line slightly less than a kilometer across. Under their thick cloaks and masks, only shimmers remained of the operatives' bodies, blending in well with the wavy horizons of Saulara's sweltering days. Griffincloth, the Order had called it, although the etymology was lost on its users. The soldiers had been slightly in love with the cloaks when they arrived from an unscrupulous Dominion contractor freshly purchased using a one-time cyber-sphere address. They came with a cost, of course. Its weight meant very few of the faithful here wore any serious degree of body armour, and even though climate control systems tried their bests, there was plenty of sweat to go around. Thankfully, they'd had some acclimation exercises on an uninhabited arid planet a while back, and the suffering wasn't nearly as bad as that of the Vresh drones'. In orbit, the officers had wondered why the cold-specialized variants had been sent here. A blunder on the Hive's part? Perhaps it was caused by distraction, but no matter. A quick rebuke from the squire had put them back on task.
Of all the soldiers marching, thirty-one carried basic conventional kinetic rifles. The Order had procured twenty-two carbines, two light machine guns, two medium machine guns with a considerably higher caliber, and two sniper rifles for this mission at a little expense. The rest had specialist weaponry, purchased through far more shadier and pricey markets. Two anti-material rifles: one conventional and the other a coilgun clipped to a battery pack carried on the sniper's back. They and their users laid down here, two and a half kilometers out at great relief. Their powerful scopes would provide recon as the rest of the detachment moved in. There was a rocket crew of four with their equipment's weighty parts split equally among them, the most costly part of the expedition’s arsenal by far. They walked a few dozen meters behind the centre of the line, waiting for their orders. The rest carried the unorthodox weapons created just for the Vresh, the sort that was only entrusted to the most elite sharpshooters.
Three spots right of the centre of the line, the squire held a pair of binoculars and scanned the horizon for the target's guards. His rifle hung from his shoulders on a simple leather sling, and his blade at the hip from his belt. The second-in-command, fifteen spots to the left of his position, did the same. They were inexpensive models but still contained most of the benefits of Tagali-Human War innovation. The rangefinder components were switched off to avoid the conspicuous EM emission, leaving them with only carefully placed reticule lines. There was no setting for the Vresh’s height on the binoculars, but the two found little difficulty in making rough estimates. The memory of enemy combatants at a distance was vivid enough to compare with those black lines.
The line was just entering their weapons’ maximum ranges now after hours of marching. Despite the distance they’d covered, the line maintained its speed and radio silence. For all their enthusiasm, the squire had not found reason to place his trust in a worrying majority of the expedition's marksmanship. He turned to face backwards, zooming in on the snipers. The mask painted their hidden prone figures over his vision with a yellow outline. Tufts of long grass ripped from the ground laid by them, leaving them with a sufficiently clear line of the sight to the target. The squire returned to looking forward and re-joined the line’s rhythm.
Twenty minutes later, the grass and bushes began to thin out, a product of centuries of use as a feeding ground for Saularan herbivores. The local star’s harsh light had started to bake the ground, and the hardened topsoil had started to crack in places. The herd would migrate to another ground soon, but for now, they were content. On the horizon, the Vresh dropship took shape. A new sense of tension rippled up and down the line as soldiers readied themselves and glanced through their scopes. A closer look at the binoculars confirmed it: they were now a kilometre or so out from the target. The group of Vresh were now within most of their weapons’ effective ranges, yet the squire kept the pace. Through the lenses, the tiny dots of the target and its helpers became much clearer. Two soldier-types holding energy rifles and two worker drones stood close by the target as they all observed a native animal separated from its herd lilting from side to side and close collapse. A niggling thought reminded the squire of the Lenses’ intelligence reports, and their conclusion that they’d be more of the former drone type, far more. The squire looked to the dropship, an ill-fitting shape on this world’s flatness. Logically, they’d be inside. The worst came to mind. Perhaps it was a trap, but the Lenses covered themselves too well and the Hive was too destructive for the latter to feed the Order’s agents false information instead of being highly displeased at the deception and outright killing them. Nevertheless, the weapons and numbers the Order had sent would protect their chances of success, if not survival. The squire kept moving, but something stole his attention.
The unstable animal collapsed. The group of Vresh started a flurry of movement before the dust settled,. The two worker drones started to move towards the fallen creature, while the target began to retreat to the dropship. The squire checked the distance: five hundred meters. As he put the binoculars away, he took a second to think. When he’d finished formulating a plan, he stuck his hands up to the wrist out from his cloak. Heads nearby turned to watch the metal gauntlets seemingly floating in the air as the squire performed a dozen silent hand signals, ending with an energetic double flick towards the dropship and retreating back inside the cloak. It took only twenty seconds for the commands to spread throughout the line, and soon the speed of the line increased to double time. The measured beat of footsteps steadily crescendoed with the acceleration. The flanks, comprising of six soldiers each, detached from the main line and began to turn inwards slightly at a much faster speed, etching a path to curve around the target and its protectors.
Behind the line, the rocket crew turned their backs to the dropship, hiding their complex movements from the soldier Vresh’s vision. Rehearsed, efficient procedure and their earlier carefulness in splitting up their cargo assembled their fire-and-forget tandem shaped-charged HEAT launcher with anti-shield capabilities in only two minutes, by which time the line was two hundred and fifty meters out from the target, putting the Vresh well within the range of accurate fire. The two detached flanks were now approximately two hundred meters out from the target and would soon reach the Vresh’s own flanks. Even now, the expedition only appeared as particularly intense heat hazes.
The squire made one more impossibly fast hand signal, tapping his left ear before retreating into invisibility once more. Forty-three operatives adjusted with the microphone suspended from their headsets, and flicked a switch.
“Main group, hold advance. Radio check,” the squire said. Many leaders would whisper here for the tension, but the squire only slightly dampened his voice. They had the advantage of distance, and they precious little time before whatever was on board the dropship would detect radio chatter on the unlikely chance they were scanning for such frequencies. It was best to have orders understood the first time.
Forty-three affirmations came in parts in squad leaders as the droning of footsteps in the line slowed to a halt two hundred meters out, who then gave their own to the second-in-command, who transferred the messages to the squire. Again, others would have paused here before continuing, would have wasted breath and seconds, but not the squire.
“Rocket crew check.”
“Loaded, clean, and ready,” came the reply from the prone figures far behind them. Almost all the soldiers tensed, now, aware of what was coming.
“Marksmen check.”
“Eyes on all five contacts,” the snipers returned.
The squire looked out once more, bringing the scope of his rifle to his right eye and switching to infrared mode. The heat of the savannah could not hide the emissions of the dropship as the engine switched on.
“Main group, resume advance. Rocket crew, target lock the ship. Weapons free on my mark. Do not hit the target.”
As soon as the squire began the instruction, twenty-six weapons in the main line, now one hundred and fifty meters from the target, came up with safeties off, pointing forward from underneath their cloaks. The heat hazes covering them shimmered with an unusual strength for a second or two as the cloaking technology adjusted its imaging. Five and twenty-four meters away from the dropship, the rocket crew threw off the cloaks covering their weapon, revealing them and its bulky shape, still dots in the distance. The squad leader looked into the viewfinder while the other three pushed the launcher with subtle movements, pointing it almost exactly at the dropship. A few seconds later, a harsh beeping emanated from its side.
“Target locked.”
Those on the main line shrugged off their cloaks, revealing twenty-six humanoids and the second-in-command with weapons drawn and aimed at all four of the Hive in front of them. The cloaks turned to white noise as they fell and crumpled to the ground. The squire and those equipped with the special weapons remained hidden. They advanced with careful steps, staying low to the ground.
The squire gave the order to fire.
