by Christi Smit
So far nothing had broken through that was big enough to bother the Hyperion and the Immortal Terran anchored in orbit above Santor. But it would only be a matter of time before the larger vessels obliterated the three remaining blockade vessels.
“Shouldn’t we help them?” Remy asked. The poor girl was looking distraught.
“Nothing we can do will make any difference to the fate of those vessels and their crews. They knew what they were getting into the moment they took up positions to face the traitors. All we can do is remember them for what they did, how they stood against evil, saving the lives of thousands of people at the cost of their own,” Gray replied, still seated in his command chair, leaving the co-ordination of fighters protecting the Hyperion to Remy and her staff. Gray had enough on his mind as he impatiently waited for Locke and everyone else to return. His exterior seemed calm, but the sweat on his brow and the nervous twitch of his eye revealed his inner turmoil to those who had served under him for a long time.
“We should at least say something...” Remy said. She left the words hanging in the air. It was her way of making Gray do her bidding without it being too obvious.
Gray nodded, gathering himself to speak to the three vessels still holding the line of the blockade. “Open a channel. Let’s honour them with some words of courage and admiration.”
“Channel is open, sir,” a communication officer said from the right of the bridge.
Gray took a deep breath and then he spoke. His words echoed on the bridges of the vessels surrounding the Hyperion. The Immortal Terran and her companions all heard what he was about to say.
“Captains, your actions today speak volumes of your courage. Your unselfish sacrifice in a time of New Horizon’s great need will never be forgotten. My crew have saved every piece of data available to us. The names of your crew and your vessels will live in our memories for as long as the Hyperion remains operational. I will personally write the legend of your deeds in the records of our race. I speak to everyone still drawing breath and to everyone already waiting in the afterlife.” Gray paused before continuing. “Bleed these bastards as much as you can, take as many of them with you as you can, we will be right here with you until the end.” Another pause as Gray’s emotions tried to bubble up to the surface, but he held them down with sheer will. “Thank you.” He could not say any more.
The Captains of the other vessels did not respond, the emotional words from a legendary Captain like Gray was enough to render many of them speechless. The Captains of the doomed vessels renewed their barrages against the enemy, Gray’s words fuelling their bravery.
Soon after Gray’s heartfelt speech one of the allied cruisers broke apart under enemy fire. Its name was the Royal Prince, and it had fought like a cornered lion before succumbing to its wounds. Ripping the throat from two enemy vessels with its broadsides, claiming a small victory as it perished, becoming a part of the graveyard around New Horizon, forever.
The Royal Prince’s destruction heralded the Immortal Terran’s departure.
Captain Volk’s voice was sorrowful but carried the strength all good void captains required. “We have retrieved our last shuttle and we cannot remain here.”
“Be safe Captain. Run as far as you can and spread the word of what happened here today,” Gray replied.
“I will. We will meet again Captain Willis Gray.” Volk said nothing more. The Immortal Terran glowed bright as its BEAM drive awoke. It vanished moments later with a bright flash, its BEAM drive hurling it at a distant location far away from the dangers around New Horizon.
Gray smiled to himself. Volk was as crazy as he was, activating her BEAM drive so close to a planet, or in such close proximity to other vessels. It was something he would have normally considered doing and he hoped he would get to meet Amanda Volk in person before either of them died. Death was something that was quite possible judging by the current state of things.
“Have we had contact with Locke or Gunn?” Gray asked Remy.
Remy was hunched over the command table at the centre of the bridge, her hands worked furiously to issue orders to the Flying Tigers still battling in the void, maintaining order in what seemed like chaos to others. “One short burst from the Maiden. Locke has called for a retreat. They are executing Protocol Zeta as we speak,” she said without looking up.
Gray’s jaw tightened. He was not a Titan but that word - retreat - hit a nerve with any good military man. Things were very dire indeed if Locke had called the retreat.
The final chess pieces were moving into place, and as luck would have it the enemy’s best piece chose that exact moment to make its grand entrance.
A bright flash, larger than normal, brought worth the traitors’ queen.
The Stygian Council had arrived in all its murderous glory.
Gray saw it arrive on the scanners on the displays in front of him. “Checkmate,” he said to himself.
Godwaker fired, but not as it was intended. Instead of Jay using it as a long range rifle, he was using it to hip fire into the monsters pouring out of the door leading to the building below.
Shot after thundering shot tore holes in the angry horde rushing the Scout Titan’s position. The head of a mutated monstrosity evaporated, taking the beast behind with it as well. But there were just too many, heavy machine gun fire from the Lancers cut down the mutants as they tried to reach for the delicious human flesh stranded on the building’s roof.
Jay turned as his visor picked up a clawed nightmare scurrying over the edge of the building. It was smarter than the rest, flanking the buffet instead of taking them head on and dying before it could taste the inviting feast. Jay’s arms were already numb from hip-firing Godwaker. It boomed again, the last bullet in its clip destroying the clawed beast, removing its entire upper body in a spray of mutated blood.
A Lancer next to Jay died, his chest pierced by bones shaped like blades, protruding from the beast’s elongated arms. Jay let go of Godwaker with one hand, dropping the great weapon’s barrel to the ground. He reached for the high calibre revolver strapped to his back armour. Two shots from the revolver killed the bladed beast; another shot killed a second mutant as it dashed through gun fire towards him.
Inch by bloody inch the beasts were gaining ground on the Lancer’s positions. More died with every passing second, but the dying were trampled and forgotten under new hungry monsters storming over the dead and mutilated bodies of their kin. They did not feel for their dead, never stopping to even process the idea of loss or emotion. They only wanted to feed, they needed to feed, it was all they knew, and it was all they wanted to know.
A black-hulled fighter flew overhead, strafing Jay’s position with machine gun fire. Two Lancers died, bullets killing them instantly.
Jay had no time to think on how a bad situation was becoming worse as a second enemy fighter unleashed molten hell. This pilot was more experienced than the previous one, hovering just above the edge of the building, using his fighter’s landing thrusters to keep his fighter stable. The ropes of bullets killed beast and Lancer alike, ripping bodies apart with traitorous intent. But the pilot had forgotten one vital thing when fighting against the Beast. Their hunger had no end, and they would do anything to feed it, even if they had to throw all caution into the wind just to taste flesh.
A behemoth covered in bone spikes leapt out of the top floor of the building, its weight and strength carrying it high and far enough to latch onto the bottom of the enemy fighter.
At first the pilot of the black-hulled fighter did not know what had happened, but behind his flight helmet realization dawned on him as his fighter started to tip and fall away. The behemoth was too heavy as it started tearing into the fighter’s vital belly, ripping chunks of light armour off with its mutated bare hands. The pilot lost all power to his fighter, falling lower and faster towards the ground. Together they plummeted until they hit the surface, both traitor and monster vaporized in a ball of plasma flame from the fighter’s ruptured power
source.
Jay felt the building underneath him vibrate, its structure warping from the plasma explosion at its base.
Lancers and some beasts lost their footing, giving the beasts the opportunity to close in on the humans that they wished to gorge themselves on.
A Lancer, closest to where the monsters were pouring out of, died in the most horrible way. Two large, muscled creatures tore his body in half, ceasing their attack to feast on the poor man’s remains.
The Lancers and Corporal Jay were on the back foot, stepping backwards slowly to the edge of the building, firing into the monsters encircling them. The heavy machine gun was down, its operators falling back as soon as the monstrous tide was too much to hold back.
A Lancer named Diaz threw a Hellfire grenade at the feet of the advancing horde. It exploded in a bright orange light; flame erupting from it compressed body.
Fire spread out in front of the horde, the sticky liquid inside the Hellfire grenade melting into flesh and concrete. The flames spread out far enough to give Jay and his companions a few moments to breath. One monster dared to leap over the flames, but it had misjudged the fire’s ferocity, burning as it leapt, dying before its mutated feet reached the concrete on the other side of the flames.
Bright lights hit the horde, blinding them, emanating from a source behind the humans trapped on the roof of the crumbling building.
Jay turned to see a fat drop ship hovering at the lip of the building’s roof, flanked by two fighters in colours Jay instantly recognized.
“Looks like we are getting out of here after all boys!” Jay cheered. The Lancers kept firing but they were just as relieved as the Scout Titan was.
The pilot of Brimstone’s Embrace spoke over the loud speaker attached to the hull of his ship. “Hurry! Extraction Protocol Zeta is in effect, sir.”
“Lancers, go!” Jay yelled to his companions.
One by one the Lancers leapt from the edge of the building into the open cargo doors of the drop ship. Jay was the last to leave the roof of the doomed building. His jump from the edge into the drop ship was the signal for the Flying Tigers to open fire on the horde still trapped behind the barrier of flame.
Jay almost lost his balance as he hit the decking of the drop ship, but Lancer Diaz reached for him, steadying him before Godwaker in his right hand dragged the Scout Titan out of the open cargo doors. Godwaker’s weight would have made for a very short and painful drop.
The Flying Tigers killed droves of monsters, their guns reaping everything that moved on the roof. Even Brimstone’s Embrace opened fire with its mounted weapons, and together the three ships killed, making the beasts pay for the lives they had taken.
When the fire stopped only the flames were still alive, feasting on the oxygen and mutated flesh in close proximity, nothing else moved on the roof.
Brimstone’s Embrace tilted and spun on its axis, its engines firing to propel it forward towards the extraction point. The Flying Tigers flanked the drop ship, keeping it safe as it hurried to help extract the Wolves and all of their companions.
The package and five of his Lancer guards had leapt from the building. Six survivors, that was neither good nor bad, just one more thing the survivors would have to deal with when the time came to leave New Horizon.
Jay gripped Godwaker on his lap tighter, looking down at it as the drop ship avoided ground fire from a squad of traitors taking cover on a roof. Jay smiled to himself. At least Rivers would not kill him for losing his precious weapon.
Godwaker would howl again, hopefully.
The beasts attacked from three different directions. They came from the east, west and south. Thankfully the north buildings had collapsed due to some unknown previous battle that Locke and his companions had not witnessed, and would require earth-moving equipment to clear the giant piles of debris and metal sub structures.
Gunners inside the remaining troop carriers fired their high calibre guns without stopping. Two of the weapons mounted on their hulls had already been reduced to useless junk; the constant firing had melted barrels and seized firing mechanisms.
There was no end to the creatures assaulting the extraction zone, breaking like a wave against the firepower of the defenders.
The Titans stood firm, firing their own and borrowed weapons into the horde. The Lancers fired from crouched or kneeling positions in front of the Titans, Sabian’s trained discipline showing as the Lancers fired and reloaded with relative ease. Even though their hands were tired, their limbs numb, and their minds heavy, they still fought one. What was most remarkable was that the Lancers did so without any kind of enhancements, they had no advanced suit of armour, no Nano machines to repair tissue or muscle damage, and no combat drugs burning through their veins, but still they fought on, without rest, without breaking.
They were the true heroes, even though the Titans were the stronger and better fighters, the Lancers were the unsung heroes of the entire New Horizon battle. They fought and died for the inhabitants of Santor, never hesitating for a second to lay down their own lives at the cost of their own. They followed every order to the letter, and never once were they insubordinate.
Locke’s thoughts drifted as his body’s muscle memory took over, automatically firing his rifle as he killed monster after monster. He heard no sound beyond the sound of gunfire, an almost hypnotic chorus of firing mechanisms hitting unexploded bullets and the rush of flame that launched the deadly piece of lead at the enemies.
His thoughts dwindled on Sabian and his Lancers, how the man had created such soldiers in only a few years. The Lancer name was not even a decade old, but already their success on the battlefield and their heroic actions were worthy of the legends the Titans were part of. Locke’s final thought before his focus returned to the current situation was that he would have to take over command of the Lancers, and somehow repay them for their courage. Sabian would either not survive, or be unable to command his men ever again. Locke would honour his men, and honour the work he had done.
A voice over the radio snapped all of Locke’s consciousness back to the moment.
It was a pilot from one of the drop ships above their position. “First extraction is ready, touchdown in three seconds, sir.”
Locke acknowledged the pilots words, switching channel to speak to the Lancers and his Wolves. “Sabian and the civilians first!” he ordered.
The drop ship named the White Knife came down right on top of the extraction zone, falling like a meteor towards the ground. Less than fifty feet above the concrete surface of the courtyard the pilot of the White Knife hit his glide thrusters, pulling the nose of the drop ship up sharply. The manoeuvre looked almost beautiful, like a bird diving towards a pond to catch the little insects living just above the water. It kicked up clouds of dust, but the pilot executed his daring manoeuvre perfectly, hovering only inches from the ground. Extraction Plan Zeta called for it, there was not time for landing and then loading, it all had to be done to allow the drop ship to instantly take off when all of the cargo was on-board.
“Go, go!” Locke yelled. He was still firing at the monsters closing in on the defenders, but the fire from the troop carriers was enough to keep the beasts at bay while the first ship was loaded.
In less than a minute, Sabian and all of the civilians, including Sabian’s personal medic, was on-board the White Knife, ready to leave Santor.
The pilot of the White Knife did not wait for a command to leave, pulling back on his flight stick, tilting the nose of the drop ship towards the sky. The engines flared red and the White Knife was propelled upwards towards the heavens.
As soon as the White Knife was clear, a second drop ship was already diving for the surface. It was Sabian’s drop ship, named after his home planet, Mercurial Dawn. It performed the same manoeuvre the White Knife had, diving at break neck speeds for the ground, pulling up suddenly to hover just above the dust covered courtyard.
“Lancers! Go!” Locke ordered.
The Lancers crouch
ed in front of the line turned and ran for the drop ship, covering their own as they fell back. One by one they boarded the Mercurial Dawn.
All of the Lancers save for the ones still in the troop carriers were on-board. Locke had at least kept part of his promise to Sabian.
Gunn was next to dive, falling even faster than the others, hitting her glide thrusters even closer to the surface. She was not trying to show off, but only minimize the time it took her to get into position.
“Our ride is here Wolves. Fall back!” Locke yelled at his wolves.
They turned one by one, running and jumping into the open cargo hold of the Maiden. Each of them turned and kept firing as the Maiden remained hovering, covering each other as they fell back.
Locke was the last to get on-board. “Gunners, the next ride is yours,” he said over the radio to the men still inside the troop carriers.
“Negative. There is no time, sir. It is too risky. We will stay,” a Lancer said from within one of the troop carriers. In the background the voices of the Lancer’s squad could be heard agreeing with the decision to stay.
“Thank you. Good luck to you,” Locke said.
“We don’t need luck anymore, sir. But more bullets would have been nice.” The Lancer chuckled before cutting the link, the fire never stopped during their short conversation.
Gunn lifted off as the Titans fired down at the horde of monsters. They were now closing in on the troop carriers, slowly gaining ground because the firepower from the Lancers and the Wolves were not there to help anymore. Soon they would overwhelm the vehicles and feast on the human flesh inside. Luckily no-one would be around to see the Lancers gruesome demise, and that was at least an honourable way to die - to not let others hear you scream before you were torn to shreds.
“Get to the roof Corporal Quinn, we are heading your way,” Locke said to his Titan still on the ground.
Christian heard the captain’s order and acknowledged it with a word. He picked up Tristan and led the way up towards the roof of the west building, careful not to make too much noise to alert the beasts scurrying about on the lower floors.
