Behind the Lines: Ganog Wars Book 1

by Chris Fox

  Takkar picked up the techsmith, hurling her from the edge of the island. She plummeted to her death, the scream ending suddenly when she impacted several levels below.

  The next Saurian rushed forward from the edge of the island, bowing repeatedly as he approached. He carefully avoided Takkar's gaze, and stank of fear.

  "Order all dreadnoughts to warp to Imperalis. Have the planetstriders moved as well."

  "C-clan Leader, I have news about the planetstriders. One has sustained significant damage, inflicted by another planetstrider."

  "Does it still possess the ability to warp?" he demanded.

  "Yes, clan leader."

  "Then order it to warp. Spool up our warp drive as well. We are leaving this place." Takkar had never given a retreat order. His father had never given such an order either. He had to go back three generations to find an ancestor who'd been defeated, and none had been so badly humiliated as he had here.

  A cluster of enemy mechs poured into his ship, flowing through the hole his own planetstrider had made. They fanned out, strafing the islands closest to the breach. Missiles, and the strange energy weapons they used, cut down the few defenders who tried to fight back.

  Takkar inhaled deeply, then began his transformation. He swelled in size, the mighty axe Yoggmoth growing with him.

  "Order the elites to begin hunting the enemy. I want their vessels disabled, but intact if possible. Bring any and all surviving pilots to me."

  The enemy was bold, normally an admirable quality. Yet, in this, the enemy had miscalculated. He--whoever he was--couldn't know that Takkar had several hundred elites on board.

  The enemy mechs were swift, but there were only a few dozen. They'd quickly be overwhelmed by his clan's finest warriors.

  The deep whine of the ship's warp engines gathered strength. Takkar glared hatefully at the enemy's wounded flagship, burning the image into his mind before they warped away.

  Chapter 63- Overwhelmed

  Khar finished his strafing run, blowing apart half a dozen elites as fast as they emerged from an oval structure that looked more like a temple than barracks. It sat at the center of a floating island, one of hundreds that rotated slowly throughout the dreadnought's interior.

  He swerved right to dodge the answering plasma fire, winging his way back toward the breach. His squadron completed the same circuit behind him, each making a run on elites. They enjoyed less success than they had against the fighters, though his mechs were still giving better than they got.

  "Mighty Khar, we are running low on ordnance," Bessel cautioned. Ever the voice of reason.

  "Have you identified any structural vulnerabilities?" Khar asked, feathering his thrusters to avoid another stream of plasma fire. The elites were largely stationary, but they had impeccable aim.

  "Yes, Mighty Khar. There is a power plant in the heart of the ship, below those floating terraces."

  Khar zoomed in the direction Bessel had indicated. The ship's interior was truly bizarre. The whole thing was entirely open, lacking even a single bulkhead. If the ship had a breach, and that membrane failed, everyone on the ship would die. It was madness, a clear sign of just how arrogant these Ganog were.

  The command staff was probably on the top island, and the layout no doubt provided a magnificent view of the entire ship at once. A commander could see every level, and use the top of the ship as an observatory.

  It was the complete opposite of every ship developed by either Tigris or humanity. Primo used a more open plan, but even they put bulkheads between vulnerable sections of the ship. This vessel's construction had involved more than metal; it had take monumental arrogance to construct something this massive with that large a design flaw.

  Khar ducked under a terrace, rolling out of the way of more fire as he passed another group of elites. Below him were half a dozen more terraces, and below them something glowed brightly--brightly enough to be a reactor.

  "Khar, evacuate that vessel at once," Fizgig's voice broke over the comm, her normal dispassion stripped away. "They are beginning to warp."

  "Return to the fleet, immediately," Khar ordered. He fired his thrusters, angling the mech back toward the breach. He poured on the thrust, accelerating rapidly as he grew closer.

  "Mighty Khar, a power surge is coming from the reactor of this ship," Bessel said.

  "That must be what Fizgig is concerned with. Get out, Bessel. Now," Khar ordered. He was getting closer to the breach, and a few of his faster brethren had already gone through.

  A strange vertigo washed over Khar. The space around him began to fold and churn, and time seemed to elongate. The breach was growing farther away, not closer. Had he still possessed a stomach, he'd likely have emptied the contents.

  The feeling finally ended. Khar stared up at the observatory in growing horror. The red-brown planet was gone, replaced by a blue-green world surrounded by two rings of rock and dust. The rings came from a shattered moon, half of which still orbited the planet.

  A blue sun dominated the system, painting everything with a muted brush. One by one, enemy vessels appeared around them, but there was no sign of the Coalition forces.

  "Khar to all surviving mechs. We are cut off. Scatter, and get as low as you can, as quickly as you can. Hide within the bowels of the ship. Avoid detection as long as you can, and abandon your mechs if necessary." Khar gave the orders with as much authority and confidence as he could muster, but privately he was terrified. Who knew how many light years from home they were?

  They were trapped in the stronghold of their enemy, with no obvious way home. He dipped the nose of his fighter, zipping toward the dreadnought's shadowy lower levels.

  Chapter 64- Endings

  Nolan ducked past a damaged ceiling panel with exposed wiring still hanging out of it. Fizgig's entire command ship was like that, bursting at the seams throughout. He had no idea how she'd survived, and suspected she'd kept the Mendez intact through will alone.

  Ahead, half a dozen people were clustered just outside the bridge. Nolan grinned. "Annie, you made it."

  He rushed forward, seizing her in a fierce hug. She returned it just as fiercely. "Course I made it. I had the easy part, remember? Your ending was kinda flashy, but I can't say I disapprove. Love that whole space-dino bit. That was clever."

  "It was mostly Lena's idea," Nolan said, nodding in the direction he'd come.

  Hannan and Lena helped T'kon toward the bridge, slow going for the Ganog since he had a broken ankle.

  "Come on, the admiral's been waiting for you to board," Annie said. She led Nolan up the short stairwell to the platform housing the bridge. Fizgig sat in the captain's chair, her cushions shredded all around her. Her eyes were slitted, almost closed. She looked even more exhausted than he felt.

  Burke and Nuchik lounged against the wall behind the captain's chair, but both snapped to attention as he approached. Burke cleared his throat. "Welcome back, Captain."

  "At ease, Lieutenant. Good work on getting the refugees out." Nolan offered Burke a hand, and Burke shook it.

  Nuchik gave him a respectful nod, but moved past him to speak to Hannan. He didn't hear what she said, but he did catch the surprised look on Hannan's face. It melted into a smile, and the pair shared a laugh.

  "Hello, Nolan," Fizgig rasped. "It has been a very challenging day." She sat up straighter as he approached, her eyes widening to wakefulness. "I knew this had your paw prints all over it." She paused, rising respectfully as Lena approached. Fizgig gave a low, graceful bow that belied her advanced years. "Welcome to my vessel, Holy One."

  "Hello, Fizgig. I am pleased to see you, sister." Lena approached the admiral, and the two rubbed cheeks. "I am only sorry we couldn't come sooner."

  "You've done well. The enemy was forced to retreat, a possibility I doubt they considered." Fizgig gave a deep purring, something Nolan had never heard her do publicly. The purring abruptly ceased. "The cost was high. Khar's squadron was on board that dreadnought when it warped away."
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  "Pardon, but I fear you will not see those troops again, then," T'kon said. He hobbled forward, resting his weight on his uninjured leg. T'kon raised shaking hands to remove his suit's helmet, showing Fizgig his face. "Takkar will hunt them mercilessly, and his flagship contains more than enough elites to run them to ground. If they are able to escape through the breach they created, they might make it to the cold depths of space. However, unless they can get access to a warp generator, they'll never be able to return home."

  Fizgig's tail began to lash back and forth. "You must be the source of Nolan's intel, one of these Ganog. Tell me, can you predict how your clan leader Takkar will react to his defeat here?"

  "I can make guesses, but nothing like this has happened in my lifetime. The Imperium has not lost a battle of this size to an outside force in living memory," T'kon explained. His fur lightened to a soft blue. "At the very least, he will have no choice but to report to the Empress. Losing a dreadnought might be enough to end his career. Losing a planetstrider may cost his life, or even his family's life. He will probably go to Imperalis, and beg an audience."

  "Will your people continue this war against us?" Fizgig asked.

  "Without a doubt," T'kon gave back. "Both the Yog--the rulers of our people--and the Vkash clans will come for you. Every clan will want their place at the war table, as soon as they realize you posses core technology. Takkar will likely attempt to hide this technology, though the Empress will ferret it out. The ability to steal a planetstrider will terrify them, and each clan leader will want access to that technology. They will invade your space, kill your warriors, and enslave your techsmiths. One by one they will conquer your worlds, until this Coalition is no more."

  "How long before that invasion begins?" Nolan asked.

  "Perhaps sixty solar days, less if one or more clans seek to begin before their companions can enter the war. Takkar's fleet will need repairs, and that can only be performed at Imperalis. Even if the Empress allows it, it will take time." T'kon's fur darkened. "My own clan, the Azi, they are likely to join the war effort if given the chance. That might be something I can prevent, if I go to them."

  Outside the window, there was a flash of scarlet. Nolan glanced up to see Edwards finishing off another enemy cruiser. Every ship capable of fleeing had already done so, along with the warp station itself. All that was left was target practice.

  "That option will be discussed, T'kon. We will call a summit to discuss our strategy." Fizgig heaved a heavy sigh. "Two months, at best. We'll just have to spend that time as wisely as possible. She stared at the viewscreen, and Nolan followed her gaze. It wasn't hard to guess what was going through her mind.

  The 1st had been effectively wiped out, and the 2nd had been savaged. Only four ships could move under their own power. If this had been a victory, it had been a Pyrrhic one. The cost had been devastatingly high.

  Nolan couldn't help but wonder if, somewhere, the Gorthians were laughing.

  Hold The Line

  The story continues in Hold the Line. If you'd like to read the prequel novella, Planetstrider, please sign up to the mailing list.