Five Empires: An Epic Space Opera

by Steven J Shelley

  From the northern approach there was no sign of a warehouse or kelp boat.

  Varosk ordered. The battalion veered west and was confronted with the swirling white water of surf. Michael guided his aquasor to the surface. He broke through in a shower of spray, relishing the feel of the sun on his face after so long in the deep. Coaxing his machine onto a probing wave, Michael rode all the way to the gently undulating pebble beach.

  The surf zone wasn’t heavy here, probably due to the protection of the coral reef to the north. The island itself was barely more than a mile across. Samalar Island was visible across a choppy strait to the west.

  A ramshackle hut squatted further down the beach, but Varosk seemed more interested in the blunt-nosed carryall floating the shallows. It was effectively an amphibious truck, capable of holding entire sections of charge barrier. It was probably needed for repairs and maintenance. Either way it was perfect for barrier transportation.

  Captain Varosk was already riding across the shallows with corsairs at each shoulder.

  Jake reclined on the beach and produced a long arello from a waterproof pouch. Within seconds he was puffing away as if he were at a Saturday afternoon picnic.

  Michael guessed that negotiations with the human owners would be short and sharp. As the new owners of Cerulean, the Aegisi could pretty much demand whatever they wanted. The humans were nowhere near strong or organized enough to challenge sovereign rule.

  Sure enough, Varosk and his troopers emerged from the hut and made straight for the carryall. The Captain appeared to provide instructions before returning to the main group.

  he barked.

  The removal of powered barrier sections was no small task. In theory they could be unhooked from each other, but some segments was so old the connectors had rusted over. The corsairs had to use their assault rifles more than once to loosen the recalcitrant metal.

  It was a fair bet the barriers would never make it back to the farm - Michael wondered if Varosk had promised compensation. Then again, humans were considered somewhere between scum and mildew on the hierarchy of galactic importance. Their fall from grace over the last millennia was legendary.

  Putting his athletic frame to good use, Michael helped out where he could. Even Jake contributed, lifting entire barrier sections as if they were hollow. Within an hour the carryall was stuffed full. The battalion had stripped almost two sides of the square farm perimeter. A variety of fish were already foraging amongst the kelp.

  Varosk instructed the marines inside the carryall to wait for the aquasors. The rest of the group retrieved the Yeneri machines and moved into a classic escort formation around the carryall. Jake fell in alongside Michael, inscrutable under his respirator.

  The forager felt that familiar knot of anxiety churning in his guts. Varosk maintained radio silence as the battalion headed south east over the bottom of the sea floor. No one had been able to get a visual on the tower mechs but there was a much better chance out here in the open ocean.

  Michael was about to suggest someone take a look when Varosk dispatched a man to the surface. The need for eyes on the enemy now outweighed the threat of enemy eyes on the Aegisi. The lookout wisely decided to delay his report until he returned to the battalion at depth. The theory that a water profile could scramble coms and thus provide cover hadn’t exactly been proven, but it seemed a prudent measure in any case.

  the corsair reported breathlessly.

  Varosk said darkly.

  Michael had to agree with the Captain. The Cava05 were sacrificing power for speed by splitting their forces.

  Jake said.

  Varosk said.

  The battalion obeyed without hesitation, moving smoothly through the shimmering water. Michael’s stomach turned when he considered that a tower mech was barely a click to the east. He couldn’t see that far through the water but the absence of sea life was telling.

  The battalion hustled their way south and made good progress. The carryall could move at a fair clip when it had time to build up speed. Tension rose within the group.

  The dreaded moment came minutes later, the Captain barking the command to veer east.

  Michael swung his aquasor in the desired direction. He focused on the coolness of the water, trying to transfer some of that comfort to his shredded nerves.

  The battalion covered a click within two minutes and Varosk raised his arm. The soldiers responded immediately, leaving their mounts on the sea floor and heading straight for the carryall. Varosk made a signal to his designated lookout, who immediately propelled himself to the surface.

  He came straight back down and held up one finger. The mech was barely a click away and would be arriving very soon. The Aegisi corsairs formed a construction line and were transferring barriers within seconds. Thankfully the sea floor was reasonably flat and sandy. Michael helped the soldier at the end of the line mount the inactive charge barriers. The plan was to erect three hundred yards of charge barrier in a horseshoe formation, then use the rest on a secondary barrier.

  The soldiers worked like men possessed, frantically sliding the fences into place. Michael could feel himself sweating profusely under his suit as his body fought to keep panic at bay. His arms felt like lead weights as he accepted load after load, sheeting the barriers home with a satisfying click.

  All of a sudden there was nothing to take from the man to his left. Primary and secondary barriers had been erected. An enterprising corsair was swimming over the construction and manually activating each segment. Some ten per cent of the sections, possibly buffeted too much in the back of the carryall, didn’t blink to life, but it was an acceptable loss.

  The collective energy of the created obstacle hummed with a dangerous power. Kelp farmers usually played for keeps with these things - the wrong type of fish in amongst the harvest could mean the loss of an entire plantation. Shoving so many of the high-powered barriers close together was foolhardy in the extreme, but it was the only offensive option open to the seafaring defenders of Cerulean.

  Varosk eyed the barriers with a mixture of satisfaction and trepidation. He made the signal to fall back. Michael, Jake and the other soldiers found their aquasors and surged west.

  Michael could now hear the steady thump of the tower mech’s approach.

  Varosk warned.

  Michael gripped his handle bars tightly but knew there was only so much he could do to protect himself. The steady grind of the approaching mech was almost deafening now. Several soldiers, already injured by the concussion buoys, covered their ears. Jake Le Sondre hung at the back of the group, perhaps waiting to see where he’d be needed most.

  An almighty thud and a torrent of uplifted sediment signaled the Cavan mech’s foot fall. Amid the swirl of sand some two hundred yards to the northeast, Michael could just make out a dark mass.

  Another tumult as an enormous foot came crashing through the water to the east, only twenty yards from the thrumming charge barricade. The first foot lifted itself in a forest of bubbles.

  For a horrible moment Michael thought the mech was simply going to step over the charge barricade, but it appeared the thing was more of a dragger than a lifter. The foot advanced menacingly but couldn’t have been more than ten yards above the sandy ocean bottom.

  Michael made a quick mental calculation and realized the
crazy operation was going to be touch and go. Never much for religion, he prayed feverishly as the mech’s foot crept closer to the barricade.

  The giant appendage clipped the charge barricade as it moved through, sending a disturbing vibration through the water profile.

  The battalion looked on, paralyzed with queasy awe as the mech’s energy shield flared magenta, flickered and shorted out. The foot seemed to drop like a lead weight, crashing into the sediment toes first.

  Jake drawled over the com. Michael could barely hear his voice over the cacophony. Horribly off balance, the mech tipped forward, its knee crashing into the water. Then its torso was submerged with a force that sent a wall of violent water in the battalion’s direction.

  Michael set his aquasor to anchoring mode, which redistributed the craft’s weight so it sank like a stone. It wasn’t enough. The shock wave struck the battalion and sent soldiers tumbling like gallery pins. Michael let go of his machine, unwilling to get tangled up in it. The theory proved sound as he was dragged for what seemed an eternity across the ocean floor.

  When he finally recovered himself he saw that some soldiers had been crushed under the anchored weight of their aquasors. He moved to assist but Varosk’s gruff voice roared over the com.

  he bellowed.

  Michael didn’t need a second invitation, grabbing a stray aquasor and surging eastward through the water. Jake appeared alongside him, howling through the chaos like a madman.

  Now that the sand had cleared and the shockwave had dispersed, Michael had a pristine view of the carnage they’d created. The mech lay face down, fully submerged under the water. A constant stream of bubbles rose from a gaping rend in the unit’s ankle armor. No, it wasn’t a rend, it was a rectangular entry point. Either the shorted shield or the hydraulic failure had popped a maintenance hatch open.

  Michael murmured into the com.

  Jake said, pointing gleefully. Sure enough, a pair of Cavan bodies floated through the hatch, already drowned. Michael made note of the holstered pistols at their sides. They didn’t seem to be heavily armed or armored.

  Jake said.

  Michael was hoping the Nostroma wouldn’t say that. But his mind was suddenly filled with images of Emilia’s body. Spurred into action, he equipped the tank gun stored in his aquasor. He almost pushed Jake out of the way in order to be the first to climb through the breach. He thought that Jake’s eyes were twinkling with amusement, but that may have been his imagination.

  Bracing himself for violence, Michael pulled himself into the mech’s foot.

  20

  Details resolved themselves slowly. The ‘foot’ wasn’t hollow at all, but a staggering array of whirring diodes and gears. A mechanized ladder extended through a crawl space. Michael grabbed it and was immediately transferred up the mech’s leg. He stopped with a jolt at what was presumably the knee joint, Jake close behind.

  Letting go of the mechanized ladder, Michael dropped into a concave space behind the mech’s thick kneecap. A diagnostic projection automatically sprouted from the wall, but the forager couldn’t understand the symbols. Jake took a cursory look and nodded.

  he purred.

  Michael moved further up the mechanized ladder and passed through a water-air membrane. He paused while his lungs adjusted. Before him, spanning the entire ‘waist’ of the mech, stood a heavy trapdoor. It was clearly designed to separate the mech’s legs from the rest of the unit. It activated at Michael’s touch - internal security was almost non-existent. The tower mech had clearly been designed to keep attackers outside, but had no internal defense mechanisms.

  Michael could picture the engineers climbing up and down the mech’s spine quite often. The Cavan preference for mechanical fluency over military protocol was fairly obvious.

  The trapdoor swung open and Jake dragged Michael back from the door frame. A plasma bolt sang into the waist from the other side.

  Jake said.

  The Nostroma produced a grey pellet from his utility belt and rolled it into the next chamber. It went off with a bang and wisps of charcoal smoke wafted through to their position. Jake leaned against the wall and Michael thought he was about to light an arello. At length the Nostroma casually stood in the doorway and fired indiscriminately with his twin blasters.

  One thump. Two. Three. A body tumbled to Jake’s feet. He nudged it with his boot. Cavan engineer in a violet utility suit. Furry, barely five feet tall.

  The smoke dissipated and Michael followed Jake through the largest chamber they’d yet seen. The mech’s torso contained an impressive array of torpedo bays, arranged like ribs along the outer casing. Two more Cavan engineers lay dead in the hollow alcoves of the mech’s huge breastplate, which was currently the floor.

  A second trapdoor to the mech’s head was sealed shut.

  “Guard in there with the last engineer,” Jake said, taking off his respirator. “Let ‘em rot for the moment.”

  Jake was eying off the warheads thoughtfully. At that moment a ridiculous, possibly impossible plan formed in Michael’s mind. It seemed so outlandish he wondered if he should say anything at all.

  “Out with it, kid,” Jake said with the hint of a smile. “You’d be no good at a heja table.”

  “The head is clearly the cockpit,” Michael began. “But I wonder if it can be controlled from the body.”

  Jake nodded slowly, warming to Michael’s plan.

  “Reverse engineering,” he enthused. “One of the hallmarks of the Cava05.”

  Varosk and several corsairs arrived. The Captain regarded the various warheads with the same interest Jake had shown.

  “The other mech is coming this way,” Varosk reported. “Knowing the Cava05, it might try and destroy this unit rather than let us have it.”

  “We don’t have much time,” Jake agreed. “The boy has an idea worth listenin’ to.”

  All eyes turned to the Aegisi forager. He cursed Jake in his mind.

  “I think we can control the head from somewhere in here,” he began.

  “For what purpose?” Varosk said doubtfully. “Why not shoot the pilot right now?”

  “Let him finish,” Jake drawled. “Cap’n.”

  “We should stuff that head with warheads,” Michael said quickly to draw the captain’s murderous look away from Jake. “Would make an effective bomb.”

  Varosk nodded slowly. “That it would,” he agreed. “First we need to get that door open.”

  “The engineer inside has had time to code-shield it,” reported a corsair with his head inside a systems diagnostic projection.

  Michael had already planned an old-fashioned solution. He drew his assault rifle and felt the tank at his back hum automatically.

  The soldiers stepped back as the forager opened fire on the obstinate trapdoor, his trigger finger flicking like a cobra. At first the door showed no sign of trauma, but a patch of glowing slag soon appeared in the middle. Michael stepped closer - the patch expanded and began dripping to the floor. Suddenly there was a watermelon-sized hole in the door and Aegisi sharpshooters were taking potshots into the cockpit.

  Surprising everyone, the Cavan guard somersaulted through the hole and began firing his blaster before he hit the ground. His bolts ricocheted off a corsair’s breastplate but otherwise did no damage. The enemy guard was cut down by merciless Aegisi cross fire. He’d been dressed in a light violet battle suit with the Cava05 insignia emblazoned on the back,

  The corsair who was hit looked slightly winded but managed an awestruck grin.

  “It fuckin’ works!” he exclaimed, much to the delight of his comrades. Captain Varosk was content to let the lapse in
discipline slide. These soldiers had been through plenty and badly needed the morale boost.

  Jake was more concerned with the last enemy engineer. He reached through the slag hole and groped around the cockpit. Finding what he was after, he yanked the cowering engineer through the hole. The poor man screamed as hot slag melded to his face.

  “Can we operate the head from here?” Jake asked in Foundation.

  The Cavan looked at Jake in confusion. The Nostroma raised his pistol and blew the man’s head off from point blank range.

  “That engineer could’ve been useful,” Varosk said, his face flushed with anger.

  “Cava05 take time to break down,” Jake said mildly. “Trust me, I’ve had plenty of experience.”

  Varosk glowered at the lanky Nostroma but said no more. The green-clad cybomancers were famous for their successful interrogations, and it was no surprise that the Cava05, with their preference for the collective over the individual, were harder to crack than most.

  A pair of corsairs worked their assault rifles until the trapdoor was a molten pile on the floor. Varosk had the other soldiers working together to lower the enemy torpedoes off the racks. Jake casually unscrewed the warhead of a bright orange missile. Varosk took a step back, looking at Jake like he was a simpleton.

  “Cava05 know how to arm their mechs,” Jake observed. “This payload alone is enough to tear the nipples off a warship.”

  Varosk glanced at Michael, the Captain’s strategic mind visibly ticking away. As the soldiers began unscrewing the warheads and piling them into the cockpit, Varosk’s eyes bore through the forager.

  “You want to say something else,” he breathed.

  Michael cursed himself for being so transparent. These men could read him like a book. His next idea was almost as outlandish as the previous one.

  “We should pitch a new battle plan to the flagship,” he said simply. “If it’s still around.”

  “Continue,” Varosk said through hooded eyes.

  “The Aegisi ships are being mauled up there,” Michael said. “They should enter the atmosphere and sit over the ocean.”