This thread will be replacing the old one because the formatting got screwed up, all new updates to the story will be posted in here over time. Thanks to those of you who have stuck with the process and sorry it takes so long. I'm looking to post more chapters over the summer as I have time, I've got about 13 chapters listed in my personal version right now with most of them either partially written or at least framed out and hopefully the story will actually be finished, not in the near future, but hopefully
-Ratfire



DARK HARBINGER



Chapter 1

“God has forsaken the young so he can sit back and watch the rest of us die.”
-Anonymous

Marcus would have spit, but with the Automated Vids the station security kept around now, he’d probably be fined a credit. The kid sitting in front of him talking was a green, never been to combat. Never seen Hera or fought to hold out Eclipse Command. Never seen a skulk rip out a man's throat, and watch as his uncontrolled body fired off the remaining thirty-two rounds in his light machine gun. He didn’t even understand the need to smoke; as the young man was talking he kept giving offended glances at the cigarette Marcus was holding in his left hand.
“God the TSA is turning them out young,” Marcus thought as he took another draw on his cigarette, barely paying attention to what the recruit was saying. “Hell, this one’s probably young enough to be my kid, if we had ever had one.”
But thinking of kids brought back memories that Marcus didn’t want to remember, like Gina - more memories – and too few of them were good anymore.
She was why he had joined up. People in his position, educated, steady job, they didn’t join the TSA; Hell, they weren’t even in the selective service pool like the unskilled workers. But for Marcus, it was different back then. He was an idealist, he saw the vids, heard about the war and truly wanted to be one of the elite. Not a pencil pusher or a naval pilot detached from everything beyond his flight panel, but a Frontiersman “standing on the edge of the unknown, between humanity and whatever would threaten it,” as the recruitment vid had stated; between Gina and whoever or whatever would threaten her. So he took military leave from his job, surprised his friends and joined up.
There had been two weeks of recruitment back checks and herding recruits for transport. Then another four months of training and placement for the real deal, Frontiersman. At the time, that had been a crowning achievement for Marcus, the requirements were rigorous, only he and a handful of other recruits had been selected.
Marcus exhaled sharply, now it just made him want to spit on the whole system. He glanced at the security vid again and kept his mouth shut.
After boot there was another three months of specialized Frontiersman training, space maneuvering, landing, life-form briefings. Two days after graduation, as a enlisted private The Khaara were sighted entering the outer ring of planets in the Anteres System; all terran worlds, 10.7 billion civilians spread over four planets. The TSA dispatched an entire fleet including one private to recapture a TSA primary shipdock while the Khaara were…distracted.
After one day there were only two hundred twenty million survivors.
Not that he cared.
Gina had died in the first wave; Corpus Colony, Anteres. Not a single citizen from the planet Anteres had come out alive. All two hundred twenty million came from Yaavin, Ralu, or Parsis.
Not that he cared anymore, the autovids back home had claimed that the alien “plague” was upon humanity, that no one was safe, and that the only way to defend your loved ones was to join up and fight for your right to exist. Marcus had been naïve back then and he regretted it bitterly. He could have taken Gina off world to some inner ring planet. Even now, there had been only a few alien excursions that far into TSA controlled space, and chances were good that she would still be alive. Instead he had joined the military; they put him on the opposite side of the galaxy from her and now it was all he had.
Marcus spit viciously on to the floor beside the table, then cursed as he remember the fine. His integrated voice comm. lit up a few seconds later:
“You have been fined one credit for public defacement.” Said a soft voice in his ear.
“Goddamned nanotech,” he growled.
The recruit across from Marcus stopped talking, not knowing what to say.
Marcus slumped backwards back into his chair and dashed the cigarette in his hand against the grate at the edge of the table. He sat there for a second and then looked up at the young recruit trying to remember what the kid had been saying.
“Which Com are you training under kid?” Marcus grunted.
“Lieutenant Richards, 6th Company, 3rd Platoon , sir," came the reply. Then the young man’s face lit up at Marcus’ interest. “I just got assigned two weeks ago to Squad C after I graduated basic, and we’re securing Space Station Excelsius in seventy-two hours sir!”
“You trained with heavy armor before?” he asked, mostly looking down at the now smashed cigarette he was still holding.
“Yes sir, at Recruit Post Spacedock during basic, we ran through mock jumps and heavy armor training, the works." The recruit paused, "I’m ready for this sir.”
The way the kid smiled made Marcus sick. He didn’t have a care in the world, like every single one before him; they all thought that heavy armor made them invincible. That was partly a fault of their training; instructors at Spacedock fired conventional slugs at dummy targets equipped with heavy armor to prove to recruits that the TSA wasn’t sending them out defenseless. Not to mention the outdated tactics for fighting against an enemy who felt fear and had a concern for his own safety. Spacedock itself was a joke to all the veterans. When Marcus joined the TSA eight years earlier, they were still sending new recruits to Argus Colony on the inner wing of the Aradne Arm. There, hardened combat veterans and trained drill sergeants beat the new recruits into fighting form. There were times, although fewer and further between now, that Marcus almost thought fighting the Khaara was easier that what he was forced through during basic. Now though, with the influx of new soldiers that the TSA required, the old training centers had given way to the massive Spacedock station.
The station itself was a massive piece of construction, housing a population of over fifty million people.
Marcus shook his head. Not that it would matter too much for this one. His “combat” experience was nothing like the actual battle that had taken place. The fight for SS Excelsius had happened five weeks ago. Fifteen-hundred TSA Frontiersman stormed the abandoned station as part of the final days in a sector recapture mission. It had been left until last since it had no real strategic value, but after the rest of the sector had been recaptured, TSA brass didn’t want to leave a known enemy outpost lying on any part of controlled space.
They should have blasted the worthless hunk of metal.
Command had estimated casualties at around 41 percent, all dead, no wounded. However, the station had been retaken and the battle went to the books as a successful mission. The vids from the fight would be taken – in part – to the battle schools where tactics would be watched and studied so the next generation of Frontiersman came prepared for battle.
Marcus scoffed at that, the first few missions like “securing the space station” as command called it now, would probably require nothing more than hunting down a rogue skulk that had somehow managed to escape the backlash of the hive being destroyed. Only later would a recruit realize that the fight they were up against was much, much worse.
“You’ve never been in combat before kid?” Marcus asked.
“Oh we had plenty of live combat training at Spacedock sir.” The recruit replied.
“Combat in the field, with a real enemy that’s actually trying to kill you and everyone around you, with no fear and no remorse. Something that’s not shooting at you but trying to rip every part of your body to shreds,” Marcus cut in getting more and more worked up as he went on. “I don’t mean Spacedock, I mean combat.”
“Well…no sir, I guess I haven’t been in combat sir.” The recruit was a little shaken and his eyes were downcast as he felt some of the weight of what Marcus had said thrust upon him.
Marcus sighed to himself, there were so many recruits now, and a lot of the time they got killed. “There’s no point in getting attached,” he though, “better to just let them go die and not give a damn.”
“Richardsons a good commander kid,” Marcus said finally, filling the silence that had come up after his tirade. “Just listen to your sergeant and he’ll keep you alive.”
The light on his voice comm. lit up again, “Field Sergeant Marcus, please report to Command Section Delta for your pre-launch briefing,” the soft voice intoned.
Marcus rose slowly and looked around, it would be another two or three weeks before he would be back in the comfort of a space station rec lounge like this one, if he made it back at all. Grimacing slightly he turned to look at the recruit sitting at the table.
“I’ll see you later kid,” he said, “Watch your back on Excelsius.”
“Yes sir!” the recruit barked back, smiling again.
Marcus scowled.

Chapter 2

“The merit of any man is found in his ability to stare into the eyes of the demon, and to stand his ground.”
-Rear Admiral Michael Booth

The briefing had been unusually short. Their commanding officer, Captain Yavkawitz, normally gave long reports with every piece of information available. This time however, the captain had come in looking very grim. Marcus and the others had known what it meant; it was going to be rough.
Frontiersman always sat aft, in the dropship section of a cruiser. This particular cruiser was known as the TSAC Marie Donnovan; One of the larger cruisers in the assault fleet. The place they were headed used to be known as the TSAS Richard Bingham.
The Bingham was the largest fleet carrier ever created, the flagship of the TSA fleet. With the ability to dock up to five cruisers, and a standing compliment of over fifteen thousand, the Bingham was like a space station with engines. TSAS Richard Bingham served in four separate campaigns against Khaara controlled worlds, all successful.
The Khaara must have thought so too.
A fleet larger than any the TSA had ever seen before encircled the Richard Bingham on the eve of its fifth campaign. Upwards of eighty thousand aliens boarded the Bingham and its docked cruisers in a massive blitzkrieg assault. From the TSA vids that were transmitted before the nano-gridlock wiped them out, it was obvious that the crew of the Bingham fought hard and well, but ultimately in vain.
TSA Command estimated that the average soldier went down with a ten to one ratio. Not that they ever had a chance. The initial assault, plus whatever the Khaara could pump out from the hives once they got onboard meant that any fighting was a lost cause.
The TSA didn’t stress that though. The vids they showed were only to prove that every last Frontiersman and crewmember on the TSAS Bingham went down a hero, more than fulfilling their duty to all of humanity. They didn’t stress their decision for the cruisers not to abandon the Bingham, the extra thousands that could have been saved but weren’t. It was all a bunch of crap, and now they were headed back to the derelict battlefield of a ship.
Not that it mattered.
Marcus shook his head. “Luck, pure goddamn luck.”
The TSAC Marie Donnovan was one of five cruisers slated to launch from the Richard Bingham for the fifth campaign. In one of those grim twists of life and death, that can happen so often in war, the Donnovan’s primary engine system malfunctioned and the cruiser was diverted to Spacedock for nanotech repairs while another cruiser was assigned to take its place.
As the last surviving ship from First Fleet, the Donnovan was reassigned shortly after the loss of the Bingham.
Not that Marcus cared.
He had seen to many die already to be affected by any more. Hell, 1st Company, Platoon Alpha had been wiped clean twice already, and the nine men still left from Alpha when Marcus had joined, already had long overshot their life expectancies.
A noise caused Marcus to glance to his right.
Salyez was grumbling and complaining again. His integrated comm. system was acting up.
Every now and then, a few people would react badly to the communication nanites in their bodies. Since the voice comm was integrated with every soldier’s neural network, there was just about no way to remove it without doing some sort of damage.
The result on those few meant an itch right under the fifteen millimeters of metal nanites that just couldn’t be reached. TSA doctors had developed an injection they could give you that toned the problem down most of the way.
It still drove some people crazy.
Salyez was one of them. In the two years he had been in his Squad, Marcus had never been around him while he wasn’t complaining.
Not that Marcus cared.
A green light in the ceiling above the soldiers came on, and the same soft female voice played in their voice comm. systems.
“Frontiersman, begin launch preparations now, approximately thirty minutes until engagement landing.”
All around him, the other Frontiersman began last minute checks of all their equipment. Marcus pulled his light-machine-gun out of the seat holster and ran a basic diagnostic. With nano-construction used for everything, all system checks were very efficient and effortless to perform. The LMG cleared its check in under 15 seconds and the read out transferred itself instantly onto the holodisplay in Marcus’ combat helmet, “All systems functioning within stated parameters: Chamber temperature – 38 Degrees: Barrel Temperature – 37.5 Degrees: System Nanomechanisms – Normal: Munitions Level – 50/50: Safety Lock – Engaged.”
After re-holstering his LMG back in the seat slot, Marcus took out his combat pistol. The nanomechanics on the pistol were much less advanced than most of the newer TSA equipment. Those who hadn’t yet recycled the older models, Marcus included, couldn’t uplink their pistols in the same way that Marcus had checked on his LMG. Marcus looked down on the weapon, read the pale blue digital display that read “10” and then satisfied, put the pistol back.
To his left, one of Marcus’ squad mates, Errick Galvan, finished the LMG check that Marcus had just done.
“Why don’t you recycle that damn pistol Marcus,” asked Galvan, “TSA put out a warrant to have all those things recycled months ago.”
“I just didn’t feel like it Galvan,” said Marcus gruffly, “You use that ancient knife from your father what do you care if I use this thing anyway?”
Galvan whipped out his knife immediately after Marcus mentioned it. It was longer than the normal TSA issue knives and made out of finer black steel. The blade was kept perfectly honed to a razor sharp point by a synthetic whetstone that Galvan kept in his bunk; both items had served his father well forty years earlier during the final human conflicts before the Ariadne Arm Incident.
“Put that damn thing away before you cut yourself,” said Marcus jokingly.
“Only thing this blade ever cut was an enemy,” said Galvan smiling as he made swift slashing motions at the air in front of him before resheathing the knife.
“Yeah well you’d better know how to use that thing Galvan, “Salyez piped in, “I hear that gridlock **** has been wiping out all this worthless nanotech that we been packed with.
“Ha Sally, you’re just mad because your skin cream doesn’t do a damn thing for you.” Galvan shot back.
“Ain’t that the damn truth” Salyez replied savagely digging at the nanotech imbedded in his neck.
Marcus leaned back and faced forward while the two men talked over him. With twenty minutes there was a possibility of sleep, especially nice since he probably wouldn’t be getting very much on the Bingham. He closed his eyes, and then opened them a few seconds later.
“Damn!” Marcus swore under his breath, he just wasn’t tired at all.

Chapter 3

“A man can judge the value of his deeds today, by whether or not he is alive tomorrow.”
- Field Colonel Marrik Galvan

Marcus spit, there were no damned monitors to fine him here. Their dropship had landed on the “top” side of the Bingham. Technically there was no top of any ship after it left its construction at a spacedock, but in any non-planetary assault where ever the Frontiersman landed was generally referred to as “the top.”
He had read all the briefings about how much resource sludge was left over on these ships and colonies, and how forcing Frontiersman to take advantage of these open nozzles not only saved the TSA resources, but also deprived the aliens of whatever was left, should the soldiers happen to fail at their objective.
It was just another load of their crap. If the TSA wanted their soldiers to survive, they would have given them the resources they needed to mount a real campaign.
Not that he cared.
Marcus was just a lock, stock, and barrel field sergeant, he shot what they told him to, and waited to make it back, or not.
The TSAS Richard Bingham looked just as they had expected it to. Covered in alien crap, and teeming with way too many worthless Khaara to rest for even a minute.
Captain Yavkawitz had gone Com right after they landed. Everyone wanted to get in and out as fast as possible, the place was packed with them.
Marcus and his team of three had moved out to the aft generator, carrying ten kilos of small explosives. A ten kilo warhead wouldn’t do much by conventional standards, but the TSA had assured the Captain that if placed in the aft generator, the leftover matter would be chain reacted by the explosive, triggering the destruction of most of the ship. Now the only thing that mattered was the two hundred and ten yards of bulk space in between his team and the aft generator.
Richardson paused, and everyone stopped.
The kid had good ears. On more than one occasion he had predicted a skulk attack, when no one else had heard a damn thing.
“C-brace left side, about fifteen degrees up” Richards whispered.
Marcus squinted, sure enough, he could see it, or rather see its leg. They had spiked legs that looked too damn much like the broken pipes and wiring all over these ships. Unless you knew to look, half the time you wouldn’t know there was one there until it was right on top of you, and by then it was probably too late.
Marcus gestured to his men, and they split into a preset formation, Richardson covering, while Marcus edged forward, and Galvan and Salyez shifted to the creatures flank.
Marcus spoke into his voice comm, “Salvo.”
Instantly three rifles lit up the aft transport corridor with a hail of bullets, and moments later, a quivering skulk peeled off the wall and hit the floor with a dull thunk, spilling green bile as it landed.
“You sure you’re not one of them Gentechs Richy?” Galvan joked.
Gentechs were the children of science, genetically altered to test what “advancements” could be evolved into the human race.
Richardson raised his left arm up to toss his cigarette back at Galvan
“Nah, I…”
A blur of brown hit Richardson knocking him over and stunning him completely.
The skulk had come from an overhanging C-brace, no one had seen or heard anything. Richardson’s arm had taken the force of the blow shattering his radius, and saving his life.
The skulk was on top of the Frontiersman, trying to rip down through to his face. That gave Marcus time to react.
He made a split second decision, the skulk was far to close Richardson for Marcus to open fire.
He dropped his LMG and shifted his hand to his leg in one fluid movement, and with a thundering roar, hurled himself at the creature attacking his corporal.
Richardson was still fighting to keep the skulk’s teeth away from his face when Marcus and his knife ripped through the alien. Marcus’ full body weight was angled behind the blade, driving the entire four inch length of its razor sharp edge horizontally through the creature, nearly severing it in half.
The wounded skulk lay on the floor twitching, but even incapacitated its eyes still watched their every move.
“Freaking bastard is still alive,” he swore under his breath.
The knife came down in a swift arc towards its head, the skulk shuddered and died.
Marcus stood up, he still wasn’t sure whether or not these things felt pain, but he sure as hell hoped they did.
He walked back over to Richardson, wiping vomit colored bile off the edges of his knife before re-sheathing it and picking up his LMG.
“You alright corporal?”
“Ye…Yes…Yes, sir” Richardson stammered, his eyes were still wide from the surprise of the attack.
“I didn’t hear a damn thing, not one damned thing!”
“Command told us about the newer evolutions” Marcus replied “They can be quiet as a ghost now.”
Richardson just sat on the floor dazed.
Salyez pulled Richardson’s medpack from his uniform and took out the bio-regenerative bandages and placed them around Richardson’s shredded left arm. The nanites in the bandage immediately went to work identifying the wounded area. Richardson grimaced for a second as they sealed off the damage to stop blood loss, and again when they released the antiseptic to clear out the filth that always inhabited a Khaara inflicted wound. The antiseptic was always the worst Marcus recalled, the stuff stung like hell for the first few minutes. They continued working across his wounded arm, visibly knitting together the damaged tissue in a crude but sufficient manner.
After the bandage had fully set itself, Richardson had recovered for the most part. The bleeding stopped and was sealed off by the outside dressing while a few nanites continued their work on the wound.
“I’ve always been able to hear them, even the quiet ones,” Richy mumbled as he stared wide-eyed at the wall before shaking his head and finally getting up.
“Always” he said softly.
“Pick up your rifle,” said Marcus, "we've still got ten kilos to plant."

Chapter 4

Yalin Scvanwitz tore across the reinforced polymer flooring of the outpost rec station at a dead run. His left arm hung useless from its socket, bleeding slightly into the torn shoulder of a tattered Trans System Authority Frontiersman uniform. Yalin stopped momentarily at a T-Junction, frantically deciding which way to go before turning swiftly to his right into an open room. With his good shoulder he smashed through the already cracked main window of the upper deck observatory into the cloyingly thick air of the domed outpost. His heavy dark leather work boots thudded into the metal catwalk a body’s length below the window he had just fallen from and the whole frame groaned and swayed under his weight.
Yalin winced as the landing jarred his shoulder, but paid no attention to the motion of the catwalk. His face was hardened into fierce determination and his eyes locked on the command switch station for the ground-level security door, a three hundred meter run from where he was. Immediately he dropped down from the catwalk onto the top of the supply station and the slid off the rounded roof onto the metal-covered ground below.
In the now completely shattered window above, a new head appeared, a small dog-like creature with pointed stiletto legs and a head too long to have been mistaken for a real dog moved into the shattered frame. The creature paused and sniffed the air, cautiously moving its head back and forth its blood red eyes scanning the environment before coming to rest firmly on the man running along the ground below. Then the creature cowed back its head bearing a row of sharp yellowed teeth, leaned back, and sprung out of the window into the air.
As his feet pounded on the reinforced steel floor base, Yalin allowed himself a quick glance at his wrist mounted rangefinder. The small device beeped as it pinged nearby control station access points. On the face, a pale blue square pulsed with a dull aura, from which the bottom of the screen shone a small red arrow pointing to notations that read “Mark: 1, Rng: 307mtrs”. With a slight grimace Yalin looked back up at the switch station, his determination returned and he pressed his lips together, his eyes blazed in concentration.
The creature hung in the air for a brief second, its upward momentum temporarily defying gravity, then it came falling back to earth, landing with its feet splayed claws down, absorbing all the impact into itself. It took no more than a second before the creature recovered and began to run after the man. In the window above, two more heads appeared.
Yalin shifted his fingers on his good arm and regripped them around the hilt of his pistol, a standard Frontiersman issued sidearm with a little digital ordinance detector reading a bright blue “6” on the screen. He continued running down the ground deck of the outpost towards the access panel.
As his rangefinder beeped for the passing of one hundred meters, a new sound suddenly carried through the air to Yalin from the darkness behind him, one almost drowned out the pounding of his boots on the metal floor. Immediately, his already adrenaline infused brain worked to ignore the unnecessary distraction of his own footsteps and in his heightened state of awareness he heard clicking.
Yalin didn’t need to turn around. They had caught up. He timed the increasingly audible clicks behind him; three creatures from the sounds, maybe four were hunting him. His rangefinder beeped again as he crossed the two hundred meter mark, its pale blue display rewrote itself: “Mark: 1, Rng: 98mtrs”. Yalin scowled in determination and pushed himself harder, on his forehead a single bead of sweat traced its way past his left eye and was whisked away as he ran on.
He screamed only once as the first skulk hit him. He leapt forward as he felt the impact, saving him from a more devastating bite, but the creature still slid off his back down to his left leg shearing through the muscle as it came down. The pistol flew from his hand and skidded to a stop just a few meters away from where Yalin had been hit. He landed forward from his jump, left leg forward, but with no muscle to support him, it immediately collapsed and dropped him onto the floor sending him sliding headfirst into the access panel for the command switch. The scream hadn’t finished leaving his throat as Yalin’s head impacted with the steel-plated base of the command station switch. The force of the collision immediately shattered his’s cheekbone and snapped his head into his right shoulder at a sickening angle, dropping him into peaceful darkness.

Chapter 5

“I have only one order, do whatever the hell I tell you to do before I tell you to do it.”
- Col. Alin Teperhazy

Galvan finished welding an entrance in the bulkhead for the aft generator. The hole was wide enough for two men to walk through side by side, but still gave plenty of space to maneuver around, if they needed it.
Inside the room was nearly pitch black, the lighting from the aft corridor was dim and could only cast a slight flicker inside the opening.
Marcus stepped through first and cross-referenced the area with the small map in the upper right corner of his helmet’s vidscreen. The room he was in corresponded with a pale blue square, traced by a few, darker blue lines cropping out the walls and pathways around the aft generator.
“Another 30 or so meters ahead, then we go down a ladder to the power interchange sequencer,” said Richardson, who had also been examining his minimap.
Marcus nodded silently, and the whole team began moving very slowly down the length of the generator bay.
From the battles, abandonment, or other tests of time the whole room had been torn apart into a mess of wires and machinery. Huge steel pumps, and circuit routers were bent out of shape, their twisted angles deflecting the light from the field lamps on the guns, casting pale shadows across the room. Wires hung aimlessly around, mostly from the computer consoles that had formerly run the massive ship’s eighty-nine terawatt generator engine. All around lay the remnants of equipment used when the ship was still operational; a rotting service manual, reticulating shears, and resources cards all scattered among other debris.
The smell was readily apparent as well. Like torpid sewer water, or decaying plants that had fallen into the stagnant slush of a bog. A stench emanated through every part of the generator room, and was especially strong near the patches of brown-yellow fungus that grew from the floor and up along walls.
Just ahead of their fire team, a huge pile of the fungus cutoff sharply into a hole that lead further into the ship. Unlike the rest of the pseudo-plant life, the pattern for the fungus was a distinct spiral shape that drew the eye towards the center of the hole. The fungus further back, towards where the tunnel curved out of the immediate line-of-sight was a much darker shade of green with only patches of yellow scattered throughout.
“Captain, we’ve got a hive,” Marcus said quietly into his voice com.
“Understood Sergeant,” replied Captain Yavkawitz, “We’ve got hostiles engaging the other fire team Marcus, give me a quick eval, do you need local defenses or can you finish up without being identified?”
“We’ll manage sir, resuming objective.” Marcus replied.
Marcus motioned to the other members of his team and they moved slowly past the entrance to the hive and continued on towards the primary generator.
“GODDAMNIT,” roared Salyez, slapping his hand to the right side of his throat and hopping forward a few steps. He massaged his neck for a second and then pulled his hand away and looked at it. On his rough leather glove there was a small speck of blood smeared across the palm.
“What happened,” Marcus asked his corporal.
“I turned my goddamn head to look at something and I poked my flipping neck on some piece of metal or **** over there.” Said Salyez, pointing in the general direction behind him.
“Well then get a grip on yourself Salyez, you’ve taken worse pain than that and made less noise when were not in front of a goddamn hive.” Marcus replied harshly. “Regroup and move out the last thing we need is to get spotted by a damn skulk or something this close to the generator.”
Marcus, Galvan, Salyez and Richardson reformed and made quick work of the rest of the aft generator room. Marcus had been given security override codes for the aft generator security door, but they were useless. Even if the door hadn’t been blasted open, power to all the systems in the zone would have been cut off by the presence of the hive.
The formerly foot thick hunk of polymer reinforced security measure now sat in a small partially melted and blackened pile of metal as Marcus’ squad stepped over it.
For all the damage the rest of the aft generator control center had taken, the actual generator itself was in fairly good condition. The entire magnetic containment device was still in place, and the diverter shielding that blocked plasma and radiation from penetrating outside the magnetic field also were in good condition regarding the circumstances. To Marcus’ surprise, and as a credit to the TSA engineers, he found a small glowing panel under bits of debris.
“Richy,” Marcus called in a low voice, “Here’s your bit, come over here and see what we have to work with.”
Richardson jogged over to Marcus and looked down at the panel. With a few quick motions, he was able to get to the main login screen and punch in the security passcode. The system came online and Richy swore in surprise.
“Holy ****, this thing still works, I mean, not only is it working, the ship went into conservation mode after the attack. Even having to power its primary subsystems, and a low level energy input into this area, it’s been able to conserve almost 40% of its aneutronic fuel cells.”
“Low level energy output to this area,” questioned Marcus.
“Yeah, to keep consoles and access points like the door back there, online for critical sections, the ship has to provide a low level energy field to the surrounding area.” replied Richardson.
“Well that would explain the location of the hive, we’d better push in case they keep an eye on this place.” said Marcus grimly.
Marcus and Galvan both grabbed the explosive and hoisted it into position, just under the inside rim of the magnetic field generator AND worked on preparing the generator to explode, while Richardson swept the rest of the generator room and Salyez, his eyes bloodshot and his face covered in sweat, turned his back to the other three frontiersmen and covered their rear.

Chapter 6

“To defeat fear, you must embody fear. You must not be the victim waiting for death, but the hunter who lurks unseen in the shadows and waits for its prey to come.” -Inglair Vaahn 25th century philosopher

Even in the climate controlled coolness of the command chair, Captain Yavkawitz was sweating. He had lost contact with Marcus’ squad shortly after their radio contact about a hive, and he could only hope that they were having better luck than Sergeant Letrovic’s team.
Not that the situation had come as any surprise, Letrovic’s team had been deployed solely as a distraction to the real objective and fortunately or not, they were good at what they did. The sergeant had immediately taken his team to locate and attempt to destroy the primary hive on the TSAS Bingham.
The strategy was nothing new anymore, the TSA had discovered the near instantaneous reaction that occurred almost immediately when they sent ground troops in to destroy a hive. At first, hive destruction had always been left to specially trained covert ops teams with high explosives and a high degree of stealth. Unfortunately for those squads, the atmosphere around the hives was made up of a cloyingly thick and damp swampy gas. It was barely breathable, but it put enough of a dampener on explosives to stop them from being truly effective. As if that weren’t enough, at the first sign of danger to a hive, something akin to alarm bells exploded in the heads of every Khaara life form for a thousand miles. Aliens that hadn’t even been listed on the nanogrid as existing suddenly materialized out of nowhere made a b-line for the hive and targeted the intruders.
This was what Sergeant Letrovic was counting on and Yavkawitz kept that in mind as his eyes scanned over the nanogrid on the console in front of him.

* * *

“Richey what are you doing,” Marcus called out to the young frontiersman as he saw him bend down over one of the damaged consoles.
“Just taking a look at the old materials here sarge,” Richey called back.
He had taken out his small TSA issue hand welder and was re-aligning some of the supertransistors and transformers that made up the electrical circuitry of the command console for the generator room.
For any of his other faults as a soldier, Richey did have a sixth sense about finding aliens going for him, but also an innate genius for technology. The general issue hand welder’s intricate precision and various metal parts lying around the cluttered generator room gave him enough materials to rework the system and reactivate the generator room.
Marcus had already turned his back on Richey, the kid was always screwing around with the old tech that the squad came across and he had long since learned to ignore it, especially due to the fact that if anything went wrong, chances were Richey was always the first one to know about it anyway. The explosives were almost completely in place and set, and Marcus was content to leave Richey alone when a massive thumping alarm exploded in the engine room corresponding with the blood red light that now bathed the entire compartment. Marcus spun straight around, his light machine gun at the ready in his right hand.
“What the **** did you do Richey,” Marcus almost screamed.
“I don’t know sir, I was just trying to reactivate the…the panel and it just…went off,” Stammered a terrified Private Richardson.
Marcus immediately went into action, running back to Galvan shouting orders.
“Finish off those goddamn explosives now, we don’t know what kind of time we have left. Richey, drop that damn welder and pick up a rifle we need you to cover our **** now.”
Then he laid his light machine gun down and rushed back to the explosives container to finish locking it in place. Marcus quickly punched in the arming code and made a split second decision to cut their original twenty minute evacuation time down to only fifteen. Just as he was finishing Salyez tore into the room from the hallway outside the generator room. His face was flushed and he was sweating even more than before.
“WHAT THE ****,” screamed Salyez, straining his neck muscles on every word. “WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH THE GODDAMN ALARM?”
“Richey punched something up with the system, so the damn Khaara know we’re here for sure now, we gotta clear out, fifteen minutes to blow time.” Marcus said, as he tried to calm Salyez down by grabbing his arm. But Salyez would have none of it, he continued ranting almost to himself and was barely able to pull it back together when Marcus called everyone to start pulling back through their welded entrance.
“Sergeant, we should probably find another way around the hive, that alarm’s probably going to drive every Khaara home if they can hear it. Marcus nodded his head and switched his communications link back on to try to reach Captain Yavkawitz.

* * *

Captain Yavkawitz was sweating somewhat less than before, Sergeant Letrovic’s squad had gotten past the small contingent of skulks that had been blocking the accessway to the hive. They had sustained some mild injuries to a few frontiersman – some broken bones, a few muscle deep lacerations – but nothing a nanomed kit couldn’t fix. In fact, Captain Yavkawitz had even been able to use the excess resource sludge that Letrovic’s team had been able to secure to dedicate more resources to overriding the nanogridlock near the hive they were headed to. As a result, Letrovic’s squad was now sitting nearly outside the hive with the luxury of medikits surrounding them as they healed up and prepared to assault the hive.
Yavkawitz wished that he was still in contact with Marcus – he hadn’t heard anything since they reported a hive, and that could mean they were running into the same protection problems he was expecting with sergeant Letrovic – but he hadn’t had the time to extend the grid in Marcus’ direction while he was trying to keep Letrovic and his mean alive.
The Captain finished his last round of meds and then began materializing soundwave siege generators for Sergeant Letrovic to begin his hive distraction operation. He was just begging to drop the first of the guns when an alarm went off inside the command chair. Instantly, Yavkawitz diverted his attention and had the system automatically reroute to identify the source of the emergency. The action was unnecessary though, as he could hear a number of creatures tearing into the equipment surrounding the command chair. There hadn’t been time to set up the normal network of phase transporters and he hadn’t expected to need them since neither squad was significantly far away. However he couldn’t recall Marcus since he couldn’t call him at all, and Letrovic was out of the question because of their proximity to the hive. Captain Yavkawitz opened up the com line and called out,
“All squads standby at your current positions for orders, command station under attack and I’m going to neutralize the situation.”
With that, the captain removed his headset, leaned back and punched the glowing white square emergency evacuate button just above and to the right of his head inside the command chair. As the locks punched open, he leaned down and pulled his light machine gun out of the leg holster on the inside of the chair and prepared to jump out.
Once the chair opened, Captain Yavkawitz jumped out in a barrel roll and slid to a stop just past the armory on the right side of the command chair. The two skulks that had been steadily destroying the various pieces of machinery he had built turned their heads and looked at the man laying on the floor. Yavkawitz turned and raised himself up onto one knee while bringing his rifle up to his shoulder and pointing it at the creatures in front of him. One of the skulks hissed, opening its mouth at the Captain. He felt rather than saw, a small pea-sized pellet fly through the air and strike his gun.
Yavkawitz opened fire.
His bullets ripped through the ground underneath the two skulks as they rushed forward at him. As they came closer they moved into his line of fire and the S/E rounds tore through their dog-sized bodies. By the time both creatures reached him they were only two twisted masses of goo, bearing only a small resemblance to the type of creatures they once were.
As Captain Yavkawitz turned to go back to the command chair, he was hit suddenly below the knee and felt a sharp searing pain. The light machine gun in his right hand fired widely as his fingers squeezed uncontrollably from the pain and he fell to the ground. Acting more on instinct than any training, Yavkawitz’s left hand shot down to the pistol at his waste and he grabbed the hilt of the gun and ripped it from its holster. The creature had jumped on top of him and was biting down on his other leg as Yavkawitz leveled his pistol and unloaded the full clip into the skulk.
Captain Yavkawitz lay on the floor for a few seconds before getting up and preparing to get back in the command chair to generate some nanomed kits for himself when a massive thumping alarm blasted through his part of the ship. “Oh god, they’re going to go crazy,” thought Yavkawitz, who now abandoned the idea of medpacking himself and instead grabbed the coat from his tattered uniform and ripped it into two pieces, tying each one around a respective leg wound. He then crawled back into the command chair slammed the heel of his hand down on the button to re-seal the seat shut and began redirecting nanoresources to every part of the ship in order to maintain contact with his time. Then he initiated evacuation procedures.

Before i start reading everything, can you tell me if this is the original DH or is it slightly modified?

I'm not quite sure what you mean. This is the "original" Dark Harbinger meaning the same story from the first time I posted. However, I've changed a number of old chapters many, many times over the time it has been on these forums. So in a sense yes, it is the original story, but it has been edited, added to and expanded since the first time you might have read it. That being said, it's no where near finished, and new chapters are coming up.

-Ratfire