Press The Line: Ganog Wars Book 3

by Chris Fox

  A robed techsmith bowed low before Utfa. "Your command, emissary?"

  "Initiate." He raised his hand to punctuate the command. Green-blue rippled briefly through his fur, and his stomachs gurgled. The fear would not be banished, even though he knew this day would deliver his greatest wish.

  The world lurched and folded in on itself, and then Utfa was elsewhere. His dreadnought materialized at the rear of the fleet, and several dozen Ganog cruisers moved into a protective cloud around him. They looked so small and weak; no wonder the Nyar assumed themselves superior.

  Utfa smiled as his little convoy made for the surface where, at this moment, his planetstriders were warping in. Only two--just enough to show that he was committed. The real threat would materialize only once he'd arrived, and by then it would be far too late for Grak and his pitiful defenders.

  The holographic display shifted, populating with all the vessels in the system. His tome fed him additional data, giving context to what he was seeing. All eight hundred Void Wraith Harvesters had cloaked, and were now swarming toward the warp anchor.

  The rest of his forces were inbound to the planet, and the unsuspecting Nyar fleet had moved away from the anchor to hover over the ground battle. It was unlikely they'd intervene, but only a fool would leave such a potent weapon out of the battle.

  That was exactly what Utfa had been expecting, and what Oako had predicted--and Utfa was ready for this eventuality. He was unsurprised when the techsmith stepped forward, bowing.

  "Emissary, the Ganog fleet leader is hailing us."

  "Open a channel," Utfa said, smiling.

  A holodrone walked over, and a lifelike version of an unfamiliar Ganog appeared, snarling. "You were warned not to bring any dreadnoughts. You have broken our agreement."

  "I thought you'd allow my flagship," Utfa protested with mock innocence, "since I am not participating in the battle."

  "Prepare yourself for battle, Kthul scum." The hologram vanished.

  Utfa roared his laughter and, still chuckling, turned to the techsmith. "Unleash the Omegas. Once they've finished the ground forces, have them focus on the Nyar fleet."

  16

  A FOOL I'VE BEEN

  "Cut them down," Grak bellowed, pointing at the enemy with his sword. "None survive!"

  Hundreds of enlarged warriors surged forward, rushing down the gentle slope toward the waiting mass of enemies. Below them stood dozens of grounded enemy vessels--sleek blue ships with predatory wings jutting out past the body. Ramps had lowered from every Harvester, and rank upon rank of spindly blue robots advanced.

  Most stood no taller than a Saurian, but one in twenty stood half as tall as a Ganog great form. Those larger ones could be a threat, judging by the particle cannons they carried. The weapons were unfamiliar, but Kokar had described them.

  Grak leaned toward the battle, wishing he was joining the charge. He longed for the thrill of the bloodlust, the feel of an enemy breaking under his blade. But he had a greater responsibility. He must safeguard his people, leading them to victory with as few casualties as possible. Every Nyar was needed against the Nameless Ones. That meant a leader could not fill the role of warrior, however much he wished to.

  The ground rumbled, then shook violently, in the way only a planetstrider could cause--but it wasn't the enemy planetstriders. Both of those still stood in place, well outside the combat.

  Three shapes appeared in the morning mist, the thick clouds obscuring them from the waist up. The legs weren't right for planetstriders. They were blue, just like the robots his clan now battled.

  "These must be the Omegas that made Kokar piss himself," Grak snarled. He stalked forward, watching as his men engaged the Void Wraith. They rushed the first wave, crushing them.

  Then the fallen began to explode. The explosions damaged Void Wraith and Ganog alike, flinging them about like refuse. Yet the Void Wraith numbers seemed infinite. They still marched from the vessels, rank upon rank wading into the combat.

  The next rank of Nyar warriors took greater care, kicking or hurling fallen Judicators away from themselves before they could detonate. His people learned quickly, as their training demanded. They'd been bred and steeped in war, more so than any other clan. It was all they knew, the very reason for their existence: Stop the Nameless Ones, at any cost.

  The Void Wraith lines began to crumble, and the enemy survivors were forced back toward the ships. Grak found himself more suspicious than pleased. This was too easy a victory. He turned his attention to the three figures in the mist. Their upper bodies were still obscured by the clouds, but they'd turned to face the Nyar ranks.

  The ground rumbled in earnest now as the Nyar planetstriders advanced toward the Omegas. He'd ordered all seven into the fray, determined to force his opponent's retreat as soon as possible. The fact that Utfa had brought only two of the Kthul planetstriders was troubling.

  A Saurian techsmith, cowering in her robes, appeared at his side. "Clan Leader, apologies. I have news."

  "Deliver it," Grak ordered, still staring suspiciously at the Omegas. The planetstriders were slowly encircling them, both sides at extreme range. No one had fired yet.

  "The warp anchor is under attack. Hundreds of Void Wraith vessels decloaked all around it. The station...is lost." The Saurian fell to her knees, warding herself with her arms.

  Grak raised his head and roared, his fur surging into red-black. His vision clouded, and his more primal nature asserted itself. He slammed his foot down on the techsmith's back, crushing her spine.

  His rage sated, he turned back to the Omegas. "So that is your game, Utfa. You draw my attention here, and then assault the warp anchor. As clever as it is dishonorable. But let us see how you fare on the ground."

  Grak smiled grimly as his planetstriders surged forward and rushed the Omegas. The ground quaked violently under their lumbering charge. The first Omega turned toward them, sliding an enormous foot backward to brace itself. The motion peeled away the clouds, and a furious wind knocked Grak back a step.

  For the first time, he saw the Omega fully. He blinked, and his jaw went slack. "It cannot be," he whispered.

  He recognized the Omega, knew it as he knew the skin of his own face. What could it possibly mean? The cannon in the chest. The sleek, deadly arms. Every detail was the same, bringing him back to the pilgrimage he'd taken as a youth, to the tomb of Nyar.

  Both planetstriders unleashed a hail of missiles, the flaming projectiles swarming the Omega. They detonated in a spectacular staccato, smoke and flame ballooning outward around the humanoid figure. The smoke obscured it, briefly, then cleared to show a shimmering veil of energy around the Omega.

  The volley had done nothing.

  The Omega thrust both arms forward, on either side of the cannon in its chest. The cannon began to glow. Light built, then the cannon discharged a beam of pure white that washed over both planetstriders. Everything touched by the beam disintegrated, evaporating into a fine mist that dissipated instantly. The remains of both planetstriders toppled to the slope, tumbling forward to rest at the Omega's feet. Their messy remains kicked up a fierce, foul-smelling wind.

  The second and third Omegas moved to form a line with the first, both extending their arms just as the first had. Twin beams boiled away the sky, the first spearing Grak's oldest Planetstrider through the midsection. The second caught Worldender, disintegrating both reptilian legs.

  "Techsmith," Grak bellowed, whirling until he spotted another cringing Saurian standing as far from the body of his fallen companion as he could get without being out of earshot. "Order all planetstriders to retreat to Derleth. What news from orbit?"

  "Six Kthul dreadnoughts have warped in-system, and are moving to engage our fleet." The techsmith clutched its arcanotome, trembling.

  "Order the fleet to Derleth as well." Grak's shoulders slumped. His fleet couldn't stand against the full might of the Kthul, not when the Kthul were backed up by an armada of these Void Wraith. He fell to his knees, dro
pping his axe to ground with a clatter. "I will be remembered as the clan leader who lost Nyar. I've been such a fool. What have I done?"

  He stared up at the Omegas. None had fired a second shot, but that hardly mattered. His planetstriders were in full retreat, running until they were far enough away to safely warp. The Omegas did not pursue. Instead they began walking toward the Ganog lines.

  Grak's forces had reached the Harvesters, and were locked in a fierce brawl with the last of the Void Wraith defenders. By the time they saw the advancing Omegas it was too late. Fifty of his finest died in a single footstep, crushed into atoms by the incalculable weight of the Omega.

  Wind whipped at Grak, but he refused to let it move him. He stood fast, staring hatefully at the Omega until the wind faded. Then he picked up his axe, holding it aloft with both hands. The Omega's foot rose, kicking up another gust of wind, and began to fall.

  Grak dropped to one knee, using all his considerable strength to prop the blade aloft. If this was his end, he would meet it defiantly.

  The titanic blue foot blotted out the sun, giving a loud, low whistle as it approached. Then it crashed down on Grak, ending his shame.

  17

  DON'T DO THIS

  Nolan leaned through the airlock, clinging to the doorway against the fierce wind. A pair of Ganog sprinted furiously toward him, the sound of their passage drowned out by panicked screams as vessels attempted to flee.

  "Get on board," Nolan roared over the wind, stepping aside to allow Kokar to squeeze past. The Ganog's ever-present mentor slid inside a moment later. Nolan slammed the airlock button, and the door hissed shut behind them, bringing relative quiet. "Let's move to the cargo bay. We need to discuss a plan of action."

  "A plan of action?" Hruk snorted. "This world is lost, fallen before the treachery of the Kthul."

  "It falls before the stupidity of my father," Kokar snapped, whirling to face Hruk, "not because of the Kthul." He grabbed Hruk by the straps on his armor, tugging him closer. "I know you love him, Hruk, but in this he is wrong. Our people's fate may have been sealed, dooming us on the eve of the Nameless Ones' ascendance. If this human can help us fight back, then yes...we seek a plan of action." He released Hruk, and turned back to address Nolan. "Please, lead the way, Captain."

  Nolan nodded, leading the pair up the corridor and into the main hangar. Predictably, Burke and his pilots all stood in small clusters. Each group of people was conveniently located near the stall where their mech was parked.

  All eyes were on a viewscreen mounted high on the south wall, where it met the ceiling. Outside, the Void Wraith Omegas were tearing the Nyar defenders apart. Elites died by the score, and the survivors scattered like ants fleeing the destruction of their hill.

  The perspective shifted slightly as the battleship shuddered into motion. Nolan couldn't see it, but he had no doubt that Burke had engaged cloaking the instant they'd left the dock. Theoretically, they'd just bought some breathing room.

  "All right, Nolan, let's put this mess to bed," Burke called, walking to meet Nolan in the middle of the hangar. Alpha Company's pilots were all staring, most of their faces still hostile. "Give the word, and I'll warp us out of here. There's nothing we can do here, Captain."

  Nolan noted the use of rank. "Major, I understand your sentiment, but we still have a job to do." He turned to Kokar. "How will your father respond to this invasion?"

  "I do not know precisely what is happening," Kokar ventured, "especially in orbit. That will influence his decisions." His fur went a soft teal. Behind him, Hruk scowled.

  "Kay, bring up a tactical display holo," Burke ordered, folding his arms. "One to a thousand, show the battle in orbit." He wore his displeasure openly, but he hadn't contradicted Nolan. Yet.

  A hologram appeared next to them, its amber glow showing a miniature version of the battle. Void Wraith vessels were tagged all throughout the system, some around the fragmented remains of the warp anchor. Others were moving toward the Nyar fleet, which seemed to be retreating.

  Kokar circled the hologram, studying the battle in orbit. "My father has ordered them to warp away, most likely to Derleth. That will keep our fleet from destruction here. He will send the planetstriders as well."

  Nolan was watching the viewscreen still, which showed an Omega finishing off the last of the Ganog defenders. Nolan winced as it stepped on one of the last groups--the command group, he was fairly certain.

  "Lad," Hruf rumbled, placing a furry hand on Kokar's shoulder. "Your father is gone."

  Kokar didn't look at the viewscreen. He focused on the hologram, as if the departing Nyar fleet was carrying him away with it. Finally he turned to Nolan. "Our forces have abandoned this world."

  "How many people live here?" Nolan asked.

  "Eleven billion Ganog, and probably half again as many Saurians," Kokar ventured. "This is our most populous world."

  "Nolan, this is no longer our problem," Burke said. "The Ganog now lack command authority. Their leadership is gutted. If we stay, we get gutted, too. It's time to bug out. Don't make this into an issue." His voice had gone taut.

  Nolan turned to Burke, folding his arms as he stared up at the taller man. "Major, you remember how you said that the president had placed me in charge? I'm exercising my rights as Mission Commander. I hate to pull rank, but here it is: The Nyar fleet and some of their planetstriders escaped. They are still a significant military force, and our mission stands. Get them into the war on our side."

  "Nolan, don't do this." Burke tensed, his hand moving to his sidearm. "Technically you've got authority, but you know exactly how far that goes. I'm not willing to let you get my men killed--not on some fool's errand."

  "I know you're just protecting your people, but hear me out, Burke. We're cloaked. Right now, they can't detect us. With the warp anchor gone, we can leave at will. Let's find a safe place to land, and see if we can help their leadership rebuild. Kokar is the son of their clan leader. Maybe he can pull them together."

  Nolan turned to Kokar, raising an eyebrow. Kokar didn't exactly look like he was brimming with confidence.

  "He's right," Hruk rumbled, clapping Kokar on the back. "You warned us of the Void Wraith, and were right to tell us not to meet the Kthul in open battle. Our people will remember you spoke, despite the personal cost. Many of our officers survive, and they will be gathering our elites. If we can get them word that you live, we might be able to build a resistance."

  "A resistance that can deal with those?" Burke snapped, stabbing a finger at the viewscreen. Onscreen, a hulking Omega stepped on a fleeing Ganog unit, then looked around for another target.

  "We don't get to cherry-pick missions, Burke," Nolan snapped. "This one sucks, but we've got a job to do. Now get your men in line, and get this ship into cover. You handle patrols and security however you want, but you get us away from this spire and into the ruins of that city. Now."

  Burke stared hard at him, and Nolan was painfully aware of Alpha pilots beginning to move in their direction.

  Finally Burke spoke, "All right, Nolan. We'll play this your way. But you'd better be right, or I'll make damned sure you're not around to crow about it."

  18

  HALUT

  Khar grabbed Zakanna, jumping from Takkar's command island. As they tumbled out of sight, he extended his wrist and fired a monofilament cable. The barbed hook sunk into the underside of the island, slowing their fall to a more controlled drop.

  "Activate your stealth belt," Khar whispered, thumbing the switch on his. Energy crackled soundlessly over his fur, mapping movements all around him. In a moment he faded from sight, and only a faint shimmer betraying his location.

  A moment later Zakanna did the same. "Where are you leading us?" came her disembodied voice. Her arms tightened around him, and he was impressed that she trusted him enough to offer no protest when being tackled off the side of a floating island.

  "Down to the slums along the hull," Khar explained. "We'll take the lift on tha
t island there, the one with the trees. I used it last time."

  They descended rapidly, and Khar kicked hard to send them arcing toward the island.

  "How long is that cable?" Zakanna asked, with just a touch of nervousness.

  "Three thousand meters. We have plenty of slack," Khar said, guiding them in a controlled fall. He slowed his wrist winch, willing his nanochrons into his feet, and landed hard. The nanochrons bled away the kinetic energy, and Khar set Zakanna down. "We can use that transport there."

  "The cargo lift?" Zakanna asked. "I guess they won't expect that. I should be able to hold my breath long enough, but it will be difficult."

  Khar began moving toward the strange transport system. The glob of amber liquid disgorged a stick-like alien, then another pushed a cart full of fruit into the bubble. Khar made his way between strange, pink trees, creeping toward the structure. His sensors detected Zakanna's faint heat signature, putting her about three meters behind him. It spoke to her training that he didn't need to tell her to maintain a little distance.

  Khar paused next to the pod as another stick-like alien exited the glob of amber, then he dove in, feeling the familiar cool liquid envelop him. The goo pushed him toward the center of the bubble, and a moment later a warm, furry form was pressed against him.

  Zakanna wrapped her arms around his waist, so he put an arm around her shoulders. Whether she needed comfort or hoped to give it was unclear. It didn't really matter. They could be dead soon, and a warrior stole what moments he could.

  The goo hardened into a thick rubbery gel, freezing them in place. The glob descended toward the base of the ship, a maze of poorly constructed warrens crisscrossing the hull. Unlike the last time he'd come here, not a single figure moved between the hovels. Not one. Clearly, they could hear the battle raging above.