Behind the Lines: Ganog Wars Book 1

by Chris Fox

  "But you'll keep calling me on my bullshit?"

  She finally smiled. "You know it. Maybe these guys will play nice, and it won't be an issue."

  "Yeah, right." Nolan barked a laugh. "Get the squad moving. I'm going to check in with the admiral."

  "I'll never get used to calling her that." Hannan shook her head, hopping down from her mech and moving to the center of the room. Her voice shifted, booming across the deck. "Listen up, people, we're planetside in ten minutes. I want everyone in their mech, ready for deployment. Check and recheck. Let's do this clean."

  Satisfied, Nolan mounted the ladder affixed to the leg of his mech. A pair of the mech's thickest armor plates retracted up into the chest to expose the cockpit, and he climbed in, sliding his feet into the stirrups that controlled the mech's legs.

  Nolan set his helmet into the gear couch, flipped the net over the top to keep it from tumbling out, and tapped the startup sequence into the console. The armored plates slid back into place with a sharp hiss.

  From the outside the mech would look like a giant robot, without any clear indication of where a pilot might sit. Nolan had no idea if that protected pilots, but the designers had certainly believed it would.

  Once the cockpit was sealed, the the entire front hatch flared to life, gauges and controls overlaying the curved viewscreen. Nolan tapped a series of commands, and the mech's fusion core rumbled to life beneath him. Comfortable heat immediately bathed the cockpit, washing away the chill of the ship's interior. In combat, that heat could spike to dangerous levels, but if he put on his helmet his environmental armor would protect him from the worst of it.

  After the startup sequence completed, Nolan slid both hands into the control gloves. He moved an arm experimentally, and the mech mimicked the move. The process was far smoother than the first generation, eliminating the millisecond of lag that had made piloting in combat a very lethal nightmare.

  "Sound off," Nolan ordered. The comm automatically picked up his voice and broadcast it to the other three mechs in the squad.

  "Online, Captain," Edwards rumbled back. He waved a tritanium arm from the bay across from Nolan.

  Unlike the rest of the squad, Edwards was the mech. He'd been critically wounded fighting the Void Wraith, and his nervous system had been transferred to the first-generation cores that Kathryn had invented. That core guided the mech just like a pilot would.

  "It'll be damned good to see a little action," he said. "You all have quarters, but I have to stay in this bay, staring at the wall. Do you have any idea how boring that is?"

  "You've got every holovid from two species, Private. I think you've got plenty to entertain you." Nolan couldn't help but smile. "Besides, you get to show off. The rest of us just pilot these things. You have an unfair advantage."

  "Ah, come on, Captain. You're almost as good as I am."

  Lena's voice crackled over the comm. "Not that you solicited my opinion, but I'm ready as well, Captain."

  The squad feed on his console lit up, showing the inside of Lena's cockpit. The Tigris wore her full environmental armor, helmet included. Under that helmet, Nolan could see white and gold fur, and her large feline nose.

  "I'll keep silent," she said, in that lilting accent that still reminded Nolan of upper-crust Brits, despite her savage appearance, "unless you request my opinion." Opening her mouth revealed a mouthful of fangs, one of the many weapons Tigris employed in combat.

  "Thank you, Lena." Nolan said, and meant it. He was grateful the Tigris had agreed to come. The admiral hadn't been happy about the request, but Lena had convinced her.

  "Online, sir," Annie's voice crackled. Loud, discordant music bled into the comm, almost drowning her out.

  "All mechs are green, sir," Hannan finally said. "We're ready to deploy."

  She was all confidence, and her support for Nolan in front of the squad was overwhelming. He'd never stopped appreciating that, and it was part of the reason he allowed her to question him so freely in private. She never undermined him, and her advice had often prevented him from doing something stupid.

  "Acknowledged. Sit tight, people. I'm going to get our marching orders." Nolan used a switch in the glove to request a channel. A large Connecting... image appeared on the center of the viewport, obscuring the rest of the squad. After several moments, the logo was replaced by the bridge of the Mendez.

  It was far more spartan than a human warship, just two consoles and three chairs. Admiral Fizgig sat in the largest of those chairs, a high-backed plush throne piled high with silk cushions. She lounged regally atop them, her golden fur shining under the bridge lighting. Her tail flicked lazily back and forth.

  Feline eyes sized Nolan up dispassionately. "You are the third vessel to check in. Disappointing, Nolan. I expect better."

  "I missed you too, Admiral," Nolan quipped. She was always pushing him to do better, no matter what he accomplished. "Delta Squad is ready to go. I assume you're having us scout the place before you send in Alpha Company?"

  "No, there will be no scouting," Fizgig explained. "There's little doubt our expeditionary fleet was taken by force. They wiped out a full fleet before that fleet could send back more than a few images." She rose languidly from her cushions, approaching the viewscreen. "We will avoid combat if possible, but my bones tell me this will end in blood. We move in force. You will report to Major Reval, and assist Alpha Company in recovering our troops."

  "You're attaching us to Reval?" Nolan snapped, then instantly regretted the loss of control as Fizgig eyed him balefully.

  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, then opened them again. Fizgig was still staring dispassionately at him.

  "Yes, sir," he said. "Anything else, Admiral?"

  "Be careful, Nolan. This new threat is not at all like the Void Wraith. Be prepared for anything."

  Chapter 2- Planetfall

  Nolan much preferred planetary re-entry from the Peregrine's cockpit, where he had some influence on the outcome. Being inside a mech made him little more than a passenger, and if anything happened there'd be absolutely nothing he could do to help. Helplessness wasn't a position he much enjoyed.

  Kay's pleasant voice came over the comm. "We've hit the outer atmosphere, Captain."

  It still amazed Nolan how well the machine captured the real Kathryn. Every time he heard Kay, he pictured Kathryn in his mind's eye. He wondered what the shrinks would say about having a constant reminder of your ex every time you entered combat.

  "I've compiled scan data into usable metrics."

  "Give me the short version. What are we looking at?" Nolan stared down at the planet, which had changed from a giant rust-colored ball to rust-colored mountains.

  "There are several cities on the southern continent," Kay explained, "each located near the site of what appears to be a mining facility. These facilities are no longer operational; however, I am detecting faint traces of deresium ore in one of them. There is a storm building to the east of our target. ETA twenty-two minutes."

  "Noted. I'm guessing this place is some sort of played-out mining colony. Odd place to be holding our troops. What can you tell me about the area where they're being kept?"

  The ship continued its descent, the outer hull now hot enough to give the camera feed a faint orange tint--not that it would inflict any damage on a ship designed to swim through a star.

  "The transponders are coming from a building a few miles from the mine. The area appears to be inhabited. Six thousand lifeforms are located within several square miles around the transponders."

  "Acknowledged." Nolan tapped an icon on his mech's screen, requesting a channel to Reval's ship. "Major Reval, this is Captain Nolan. We're approaching target. Requesting operational instructions."

  "This is a private channel, son. You can drop the formality." Reval's voice carried a clear note of disdain, one Nolan was positive he was going to just love. "We're going to come in low over the southern portion of the city, between those two big mounds. We'll depl
oy in that empty park two clicks south of the target. Your squad will hang back and protect our rides, while the rest of us launch a direct frontal assault."

  "Sir, this is an entirely new foe," Nolan protested. "We have no idea what their capabilities are. Those mounds could be anything, and we should at least--"

  "Let me stop you right there, Captain," Reval interrupted. "I know you're used to operating independently, and I know the admiral indulges you entirely more than she should. I don't give a shit. I'm not going to explain my rationale to you, because I'm your goddamned superior officer." He paused. "I know you want to protest further. Don't. Can you follow orders, soldier?"

  "Yes, sir." Nolan clenched his fists, but kept the heat from his voice. "Delta Squad will set up behind the rest of the ships, and we'll establish a defensive perimeter."

  "Excellent, son. Get it done, then sit tight and wait for orders. Reval out."

  The connection disappeared, replaced by footage of their approach. They were much closer to the target now, just a few miles up. Below sprawled a long-dead city, the equal of anything ever built on Earth. That city had fallen to ruin centuries ago--maybe longer. All that remained were rusted spires shooting into the sky, the metal the same color as the mounds of reddish sand blanketing the streets.

  Three gigantic mounds sat in a rough triangle around the city, each over a mile high. They appeared to be built from whatever material had been at hand, mostly rusty metal mixed with chunks of dull black stone. Nolan had no idea what their purpose was, or even how they'd been constructed.

  Clusters of multicolored tents huddled around the base of many of the spires, and bipeds flowed between them like tiny ants. It wasn't unlike a ruined Earth colony, and Nolan found the similarity jarring. How had such a similar set of races evolved, several thousand light years from Earth?

  They flew lower, Kay guiding the ship to a smooth landing at the far edge of a sand-covered field. It was about six hundred meters across, ringed by rusted buildings. In the distance, Reval's cruiser landed next to a pair of corvettes, near the center of the field.

  Nolan checked the range finder. They were about three hundred meters away from his own landing site. Marines and mechs were already trotting out of the ships, massing about fifty yards from the LZ.

  "All right people," Nolan bellowed into the comm. "Move out. We've been assigned to provide a defensive perimeter for the ships. Nothing gets through, or our boys have no ride home."

  "Are you serious?" Edwards's voice came over the comm. "That's bullshit, sir. We've seen more action than all of those Alpha boys put together."

  "This stinks like bullshit took a shit, and that shit sat in the sun for a spell," Annie growled. "If they ain't gonna let you lead this op, they should at least let you advise."

  "They're not wrong," Hannan agreed. "This is clear favoritism, sir. They're making us sit this out, because we came from the 14th. We fought in the Battle of Earth, sir. We took down Chu. This isn't right."

  "No, it isn't," Nolan said. "We're going to do it anyway. Move out people, and keep the chatter to a minimum." He guided the mech into motion, his viewport bobbing with each ponderous step. The machine was an extension of himself, and long hours of training had made piloting effortless. He loved it, though it felt like he rarely had the opportunity these days.

  The ramp at the rear of the cargo bay descended, and a fierce wind immediately pelted them with red and black sand. It cut visibility to maybe a hundred meters, so he switched to mag view. Nothing.

  "That crap is blocking most spectrums," Nolan explained over the comm. "We're going to have to rely on GPS, and visual."

  He guided his mech into the storm, moving to the right of the ramp so the others could exit the craft. Rust whirled and eddied about them, already coating their mechs.

  They lined up quickly, Hannan bringing up the rear. She turned her mech to face his. "Sir, how are we supposed to establish a perimeter in this shit? A whole army could be creeping up, and we wouldn't be able to see them."

  "I'm marking your assignments on the map." Nolan tapped the screen several times, tagging locations for each member of his squad. "We've got roughly a hundred yards visibility, so we're going to cover as much of the perimeter as we can. Use the buildings for cover. Odds are good this stuff plays havoc with their sensors, too, so the enemy may not be able to detect us if we stay still."

  "What about the cloaking system, sir?" Edwards asked.

  "The energy signature might clue them in to our location--and, besides, the wind will still break around your mech. Enemies will see that, and know you're there. Our best ally here is simple stealth."

  "Move out, people," Hannan barked. "We have our orders."

  Her mech trotted into the storm, heading northeast. The others followed.

  Nolan waited until everyone was in motion before heading to his self-assigned position.

  Chapter 3- Warp Gate

  Admiral Fizgig massaged her thigh through her uniform's black pants, shifting on the cushions to minimize the pain. The arthritis wasn't crippling, but it was certainly irritating. She'd hoped that the war with the Gorthians would be her last, but there simply weren't enough experienced pride leaders to guide her people. If they were to survive, they needed time to raise another generation.

  That meant her work wasn't done yet.

  "What kind of traffic are we seeing in the system?" Fizgig demanded. She rose from her chair, moving to stand behind the comm officer.

  Lieutenant-Commander Juliard darted a glance over her shoulder, then focused on her screen. "There are thirty-eight vessels in system. Most are clustered over the planet's nadir, about thirty thousand clicks above the surface. They center around some sort of installation, though we haven't ascertained the station's purpose." She brushed sun-colored hair from her face, giving a sheepish smile. "Uh, Admiral, sir."

  "Put it on the viewscreen." Fizgig turned to face the screen dominating one side of her bridge. Graphs, gauges, and scrolling information dominated the bottom portion of the screen. The top shifted to show an aerial view of the planet.

  The station looked like a grasping hand, six silvery spires towering over it like skeletal fingers. A cloud of vessels surrounded it, one or two occasionally making for the surface. It looked a great deal like a trade station, though in size and shape it was unlike the buildings of any of the races in the Coalition.

  "Juliard, analyze the energy signature at the center--that purple light." Fizgig walked closer to the screen, bending to peer at the station.

  "Sir, it's putting out far more power than any of our reactors,"Juliard confirmed. "An order of magnitude more. The only thing we've got on this scale is a Helios Gate." She licked her lips, clearly struggling to find words. "I'm not sure I want to know what they need that much power for."

  "They probably use energy for the same reasons we do. We use the Helios Gates to travel, and it stands to reason they have a similar method. We may be looking at whatever they use to travel between star systems." Fizgig returned to her chair, settling on the cushions again. "Specialist Tag, bring up a tactical report for the surface. Are the teams in position yet?"

  "Yes sir, they've begun advancing toward the target." The specialist, a white-furred Tigris who'd yet to adopt a pride, tapped away at his keyboard. The viewscreen showed the surface. Twelve mechs trotted through the dust, moving in double file.

  If their structures had the same uses as those of the Tigris, it looked like they were headed toward some kind of coliseum--a massive domed structure with many entrances and exits. That would make it a nightmare to defend. Why choose such a location?

  Fizgig's tail swished back and forth behind her, mirroring her mood.

  "Put me through to Major Reval. Audio only," she ordered.

  "You're on, sir," Juliard replied.

  "Reval, this is Fizgig. I see twelve mechs, not sixteen. Where's the last quarter of your forces?"

  "You said I had operational authority, Admiral. Is this really the tim
e to be questioning my deployment tactics?"

  Fizgig bristled inwardly, but forced her tail to stillness. "You do have authority, but I want to make sure this isn't part of your petty human politics. I know you dislike Nolan."

  Juliard and Tag shared a significant glance. Fizgig pretended she didn't see it.

  "I thought you had more respect for me, Admiral. My personal feelings do not ever influence the decisions I make during an op. I ordered Nolan to stay behind and secure the landing site, because we need to ensure we have a way out of here." Reval's voice was clotted with anger. "Since you've made it personal, sir, are you sure you're not just being overprotective of your favorite student?"

  "I am old, major, but I am still Tigris," Fizgig said, matter-of-factly. "If you speak to me in such a manner again, I will kill you. You know enough of my history to know that's not an idle boast. I need skilled officers, Reval, and you are that. But I will not have insubordination infesting my ranks. The 1st Fleet has a sterling reputation--Earth's finest, is that not what you call yourselves?"

  "You know it is."

  "Then act like it," Fizgig snapped. "Carry out your mission. I will be watching."

  "Acknowledged. Reval out."

  The connection went dead, but the viewscreen continued to show the mechs. They'd started fanning out and were now covering the southern side of the coliseum. Three transports pulled up behind them, and three dozen marines spread out between the mechs. A single squad broke from their ranks, moving to one of the doors. They slipped inside, while the rest of the company waited.

  Nearly a minute later, the squad still hadn't emerged. Four mechs raised their cannons, focusing on the coliseum wall. They made a mech-sized breach, and the war machines began moving into the structure.

  "Move to the pilot's view," Fizgig ordered. It would annoy Reval even further, but so long as she didn't interfere he'd have nothing to gripe about. She needed to learn everything about her opponent, as soon as that information was available.