Good morning one and all, and welcome to the teaser of
Dragoon 2-2, as seen below.
The story will be released on Amazon around Friday, May 15, 2020.
HISTORIAN’S
NOTE
The following events occur forty-eight hours after a worldwide alien
invasion, on Tuesday, March 15, 2039.
CHAPTER ONE
Monday, March 14,
2039
Kaha’asi vessel,
entering Earth atmosphere
Invasion Day -1
and 7.2 hours
The flight deck
was a hive of activity.
The lord commander
in charge of the spacecraft carrier’s fighter contingent was adamant in
maintaining cover for the flagship. No one knew how high into orbit the natives
could reach. Not enough time had been spent on finding out.
Political
expediency. Thought
Tuvuius nar Nasom as he saw several techs work on one of the aging fighters. We
barely picked up this world on our scopes, and the Council pushed for
settlement. Bloody idiots, the whole lot of them! Not that he was present
in the meeting, Tuvuius was not high up in the ranks to warrant an invitation.
Still, he knew those who attended.
Despite caution
advised by the shaman, the Council pushed for settlement. Their reasoning was
understandable; the ships were old, the oldest dating back to when it served in
the homeworld defense force many hundreds of cycles ago. Resources were low,
too, as it had been several generations since they mined asteroids and moons.
Most importantly, they were losing knowledge.
We can only blame
ourselves.
Tall and broad, Tuvuius
nar Nasom liked to think he did not fit the standard mold of what a kaha’asi
male of noble birth was like, especially one who had just reached his twentieth
cycle. For one, he flew fighters. For most nobles, even those born to the beta
of high born as his father, flying was below them. Nobles hunted and mated, and
had armies of yeomen and freemen and slaves to tend to their needs. Tuvuius
believed in being active.
“My liege.”
The deep rumble of
his flight chief and engineer penetrated through his musings, and Tuvuius
turned. “Yerfdes?”
“You are needed in
the throne room.”
Tuvuius blinked.
“Do you know why?”
“I do not know my
liege.”
*
The throne room was
a study of organized chaos.
To Tuvuius, it may
as well be a whole world away. Blinking hard against the darkened red glare of
the compartment’s interior, he paused and lifted his head to sniff the air. It
was stale, much like the rest of the ship. But that was where the similarities
ended.
Sergeants and more
junior ranked yeomen crewed every station, with more senior aristocrats
overseeing them. Tuvuius sneezed.
“And you are?”
demanded the nearest of the sentries, almost invisible in their black shoulder
pads, breastplates, and full helm.
“Tuvuius nar Nasom,”
the young kaha’asi male began, eyeing the apparition before him. The guard was
not the usual sergeant, who commonly served in a specific squadron. The big
male was from the Black Legion, the personal army of the late Admiral Yllus nar
Nayyar. Upon his death, they and the Admiral’s riches went to Tuvuius’s
father.
Since that day,
the legionnaires served his father with fierce loyalty.
Like others,
Tuvuius had heard the stories. The legion was notorious, taking their task of
protecting their master and commander very seriously. He had heard stories of
legionnaires ripping into any kaha’asi who took one wrong step towards whomever
they were protecting. The only reason why none of the legionnaires pounced on
his father was that Nasom nar Yaako had managed to call out a challenge for
ritual combat, something the admiral could not refuse. As it was, Yllus died in
battle, even if it had been a hopeless cause for the aging kaha’asi male.
“Stay here,” the
guard murmured and grunted at his fellow guard.
The other black
legionnaire took the hint. Tuvuius waited. He may be the firstborn to his
father’s beta wife, but he was no fool.
“Come,” the second
guard announced as they approached, turning around.
Tuvuius followed
after exposing his neck to the first guard in thanks.
“My son.”
His father’s tone was firm, yet Tuvuius thought he heard a degree of paternal
pride resonating from the squadron commander.
“Father.” Tuvuius
kept his distance, mindful of his escort and the two legionnaires that flanked
his father’s station. “I wanted to thank you for bestowing upon me
the new rank. I will not disappoint you, nor the squadron.”
“You have earned
the title on your own merits, my son,” Nasom countered.
“I have killed a
fellow kaha’asi for the privilege, father,” said Tuvuius. “Surely, there must
be a better way. From what I have read, Kedar nar Suhala was a very competent
fighter pilot and had been well respected.”
Nasom looked at
his offspring thoughtfully for a long minute, only to sigh. “I am well aware of
that, my son. Kedar and I had earned our lieutenantships at the same time, and
I knew him well. However, we had to adhere to tradition. Your brother had opted
for you as his wing commander, not Kedar. There was room for one.”
The young kaha’asi
male grimaced. He had heard the same statement, or a variant of it, in one form
or another for many a cycle now. The older Tuvuius got, the more he started to
know why things were as they were, especially after finding out that it hadn’t
always been like this.
Tuvuius was going
to say something to that effect, but a commotion interrupted them. Father and
son turned as one.
“Captain, I do not
appreciate tantrums on my command deck,” declared Nasom.
“My apologies,
liege, but we just struck something,” the captain responded.
“Orbital debris?”
“Or a satellite,” offered the captain, looking perturbed.
Tuvuius couldn’t
help himself. “But I was under the impression that its sound tactical doctrine
to shoot down orbital satellites . . .” His voice petered off as both his
father and the captain, along with a trio of black legionnaires, eyed him. “I
assisted in the transcribing of the council meeting, father,” he said, turning
his attention to Nasom.
“That is the task
of the shaman, my son,” his father reminded.
“Yes, father.”
Nasom sighed,
shook his head, and turned to the captain. “Bring us back into orbit, Captain,
and instruct our escorts to clear the area of anything artificial.”
The captain nodded
and turned to relay the orders.
“As for you,
Commander nar Nasom.” His father turned to regard Tuvuius.
“Commodore nar Yaako?”
the young kaha’asi male replied, just as formally.
“You have your
brother to serve. Do so with honor.”
Thursday, March
17, 2039
Off the coast of
Laoag City, Manila, Philippines
Invasion Day +2
and 6 hours
Part of a
scattered amphibious task force off the coast of the Philippines, the Chinese
landing ship Yimena Shan smashed through the incoming waves. It was late
evening. That time was dark blue intermingled with whiffs of lighter blue as
daylight retreated. Shadows danced against the deck as a voice called out
orders over loudspeaker and klaxons wailed, and lights flashed on and
off. Chang Lian would have been quietly mesmerized by the cacophony of
blues, shadows, and wailing klaxons if she were not already high on adrenaline.
She was in a rush,
stepping out into the open, the embedded reporter, and nearly collided with a
marine. More marines rushed by. Chang almost lost her balance, only to be
caught by a junior naval officer.
“Thank you,” she
breathed.
"Miss Lian,
please gather your gear; we are disembarking," the young officer
said.
She watched as more marines swept past her, scrambling up the nearest
ladders that led up to the deck that held the landing craft. “What’s going on?”
demanded Chang as she turned her attention back to the ensign.
“We’re landing in
the Philippines, evacuate civilians!” the ensign replied before scurying off.
She re-entered her
room, quickly donned her lightweight body armor and her favorite baseball cap
and slung her backpack on her shoulder with her assigned combat helmet attached
to the webbing. They rushed to the deployment deck. Once topside, she added a
bright orange life jacket he handed her. She donned her helmet, tucked her
baseball cap away, pulled her camera from the pack, and turned it on.
"Admiral
Huang has just ordered all the marines off the Yimena Shan,"
she told the digicam in her hand, shifting it away from her, and then recorded
the area around her to showcase the rush of activity. The built-in transmitter
uploaded her comments automatically onto a cloud account, linked directly to
her producers back in Auckland.
Marines surged by
her, boarding one of six landing craft. Lian and her guide followed them, and
she noted that someone had painted the Chinese characters for 'River Oxen' on
the hull. Finally, she was helped aboard by the ensign.
"What's going
on?" she asked a sergeant, pointing the digicam at him as she tried to
steady the camera.
"Command
ordered us to defend Laoag City!" the sergeant responded, eyes wide with
resolve and excitement.
Her eyebrows shot
up in surprise. It was common knowledge that China and the Philippines had been
on the verge of war before the aliens descended from the heavens, two and a
half days ago. China and the Philippines had put aside their border disputes
because of the aliens' threat.
The
aliens didn't differentiate between countries as they struck all the cities,
military bases, and combat units on maneuvers, regardless of what national flag
they were sporting. The opening salvo seemingly targeted surface warships. How
the amphibious combat group managed to stay afloat this long had been a miracle,
with some of the crew wondering when the aliens would strike.
