Gods and the Stars (Gods and the Starways Book 2)

by Steve Statham

  The traffic on his comm link confirmed that his other squads were engaged with three other boarding attempts. As Maelstrom had expected, the landing craft he’d disabled had been quickly replaced.

  Need to wrap up here so we can support each other.

  “Marek, what’s your status?”

  “They’ve stopped firing at us—they’re all tangled up with the Granth.”

  “Don’t let any of them escape. Secure the exits, but any extra men should wade in and go hand-to-hand with the Otrid. Keep them from regrouping.”

  “On it, Captain.”

  Vance switched over to the direct link to the godship’s controlling intelligence. “Maelstrom—send a group of servitor bots to my location to keep any random Otrid from breaking out into the main avenues. And I need bots on the ceiling to seal this breach before that ugly Otrid ship pulls away and leaves us with a giant sucking hole in the hull.”

  Maelstrom gave no reply. In the brief moment he had to think about it, Vance wondered if the diminished god was keeping up with the demands placed on him. It would be easy to lose control of the situation—already, the cavernous hangar was a roiling mass of strange alien bodies, a chaotic dance of death. Similar scenes were playing out at three other locations on the ship.

  Vance clipped his stubby suppression beam rifle to its spot along the leg of his battle armor. He no longer had a clear shot without potentially hitting one of his Granth allies. He reached for the long blade that was secured across his back and pulled it free. He’d made the weapon himself in his shop, unsure if there’d be a use for it in a war where most of the killing tools had been devised by the gods themselves. But somehow the basic, lethal simplicity of a long straight blade seemed right for the war for survival that was being waged upon them.

  There was only one way to find out.

  One of the Otrid, cut and bleeding, had shed its Granth attackers and was stumbling forward. Vance charged toward it, weaving between the fallen bodies that littered the passageway. His powered armor boosted his speed and amplified his strength, and in an instant he closed with the large alien. He slashed upward with his sword, severing two of the creature’s tentacles on the first swing. He slid low, slicing at the stumpy legs, then bounced back to his feet and thrust the sword directly into the large center mass of the Otrid. It roared from a vertical orifice along the top of its thick neck, and also from a smaller mouth higher up, directly beneath its eye band.

  Vance left the slumping form behind and rushed to the next invader in his path. This one was still struggling to rid itself of a Granth that had latched onto its underside and was gashing it with its claws.

  Vance raced alongside and sliced at the sail membrane along the Otrid’s back. Despite its fragile appearance, the sail was composed of a tough, fibrous cartilage that did not give way easily. But the shock of the wound paralyzed the Otrid, allowing the Granth to scurry up its side and onto the Otrid’s back, where it tore at the bleeding injury.

  The bulk of the Otrid force had retreated to the center of the chamber, where they were bunched in a defensive posture, trying desperately to fend off the swarming Granth. Vance spied Marek and another squad member advancing from the far side of the melee, firing their beam rifles and dodging the energized belts the Otrid wielded.

  So far, none of the Otrid had slipped through their defenses.

  Motion from above caught Vance’s eye, and he looked up to see a team of axis flyers diving in formation toward the opening cut through the hull. Smaller construction bots were racing across the surface of the ceiling to the same destination.

  In an instant, the flyers sprayed a nearly invisible web across a large section of the opening. The bots arrived a moment later and began releasing a thick, localized mist that clung to the strands and quickly spread, forming a barrier.

  Vance rushed to the opening. He sheathed his sword across his back and reached for his suppression beam rifle. Aiming it directly into the rapidly closing hole in the hull, he fired off three quick shots. Through the boarding tube that tied the godship to the Otrid’s vessel, he heard the aliens shout in their unfathomable language.

  But no more warriors were trying to cross.

  He turned back to the fight, dropping behind a fallen Otrid for cover. It was a good spot for making sure no more of the massive aliens came through the tube as well as ensuring none escaped.

  Vance spied an Otrid warrior raise his weapon and target the bots that scurried along the roof. He raised his rifle and lined up in his sights the odd collection of segments at the top of the Otrid neck. Vance fired, decapitating the creature. It toppled to the deck, dropping its weapon as the two sections of the alien settled motionless in a pool of blood.

  A shudder ran along the floor. Vance turned and saw the tube that connected the Otrid vessel to the godship swaying. A dull light poured through the transparent sections of the hull, a sign that the ship’s engines were preparing to boost away from the surface of the great sphere.

  “Marek! The Otrid ship is pulling away! The bots are still sealing the breach, so it’s about to get windy in here. Meet me by Access Corridor B.”

  Vance vaulted over the Otrid body he had been using for cover and ran from the breach toward the passageways that led to the interior. The deck was slippery with Otird and Granth blood. Vance fired off a shot as he ran, but it was his final target; the last of the invaders was falling under the onslaught of swarming Granth. From across the chamber he saw his squad rushing toward the rendezvous point.

  He shouted to the Granth as he ran, ordering them to leave the Otrid bodies behind and follow him. They slowly complied, and in moments he had all his fighters racing down the central passageway toward the inner areas of the godship. The last of them had stumbled into the first ring of inner pavilions when he heard the screech of metal as the Otrid ship disengaged. Air currents swirled as atmosphere was sucked out the hole, but the howling wind was cut short as the hatch doors closed behind them.

  Vance made his way to Marek and placed a hand on his shoulder as he gave a brief report. But there was no time to rest.

  They had repelled one of the four boarding parties.

  Three more remained.

  Chapter 27

  Blood on the Deck

  Lord Kwed Fighting Sea held the limp form of the human in his whip arms, examining it.

  The small group of human defenders in this chamber had fought fiercely, but they now lay scattered across the deck, their silent forms still leaking fluids. Defeated, yes—there could be no other result—but they had taken too many of his warriors with them.

  What was it about these singletons that allowed them to stand so defiantly against superior foes?

  Kwed peeled off the light armor the human wore. He could see the resemblance to the large one that he’d slain, but there were many differences. This one was taller than he had expected, although still far smaller than the Triton creature.

  The human’s skin, for another thing, appeared remarkably thin. He raked its exposed flesh with the tip of one of his whip arms, and it peeled away easily. How could creatures with so little natural protection have survived the rigors of space travel for so long? The thick outer skin of the Otrid had evolved as a natural protection against the home system’s harsh star, making his people largely impervious to the gales of radiation that swirled through the cosmos. It was one more advantage that gave his kind superior status over lower life forms that could only huddle on their home worlds, unsuited for higher purpose in galactic affairs.

  And yet, humans were here, and they did survive, despite all their apparent weaknesses.

  He tossed aside the body of the deceased human. He had no time to reflect on such issues now, in the middle of conquest. But once the humans were subdued he would study their physiology and culture in greater detail, and identify why they had risen so high among singleton species.

  “Collect the fallen weapons,” he called out to his number three. His second in the command structu
re had fallen in the early moments of the fight when the human’s robots had engaged, bathing the chamber in cutting beams.

  Kwed’s surviving soldiers gathered around him, awaiting orders. He surveyed their body language, and was slightly dismayed by what he saw. Sail segments shifted colors into inglorious shades, and the taste of the spores in the air revealed uncertainty and confusion. His remaining force was comprised of an uneven number—unlucky, but even worse, having a team of three instead of four would reduce its combat efficiency dramatically. When he regrouped with his other assault teams, he’d have to reform the groups into even numbered units.

  Kwed ran his primary whip arm down the comm circuit activators on his Harness of Lordship. He opened channels to all his assault teams.

  No responses came.

  He glanced down, checking to see if his harness had been damaged, but there were no visible rips.

  This was…not right.

  “Team four. Report.”

  Silence.

  Kwed ran through the contact sequence for all assault teams and was greeted by dead air for each. He activated the tactical display on his harness and allowed the information to flood through all his senses. The readout confirmed that all members of his other teams were dead. He saw that two of his assault ships had disengaged and were rapidly retreating from the sphere ship.

  He attempted to call War Vessel 84 for reinforcements, but received only painful static in reply. Apparently the commander of this large one’s ship had successfully found a way to block transmissions beyond the immediate area.

  Kwed could feel the eyes of his troops upon him. He dismissed the readouts from his tactical display and straightened to his full stance.

  “The glory of capturing this ship falls to us,” Kwed said, addressing his troops. He released spores that renewed courage and resolve, and would react with later spores to induce the focused rage necessary to win this fight. “Follow me, and shoot anything that moves.”

  Kwed led them through the debris from the robots they had dispatched and the remains of the dead humans. He quickened his pace, leading them through a wide corridor toward an expansive, open chamber beyond. His research on the vessel indicated there were three central command nodes from where the ship could be controlled.

  But getting to one was no small journey—the size of this ship amazed Kwed. Intellectually, he understood the distances involved, but even so, seeing it firsthand as the interior spaces opened before him was alarming. It truly was a self-contained city, and even his exacting preparation had not prepared him for the reality of it. It reminded him of the sky cities of homeworld, a technological triumph that no singleton species should have the ability to replicate.

  He emerged into an wide, enclosed, dimly-lit avenue that curved off into the distance in both directions. It was clearly used to transport large items around the circumference of the sphere as needed. Directly across from Kwed, an opening led to an even larger chamber, the far side of which was indistinct in the distance.

  Kwed waited for the rest of his troops to emerge from the corridor behind him. As they arrived they glanced around, clearly as taken aback by the scale of this place as he had been. He gave them little time for contemplation.

  “We continue toward the center. Once we’ve captured a command node, the ship is ours, and with it, victory…”

  Vibrations in the air current to his right broke Kwed’s concentration.

  More humans were coming.

  Kwed raised his weapon and fired into the darkness. The glow from the fragment dispersal revealed it was not human warriors approaching—it was instead a vast army of robots bearing down upon them. They did not appear to be true war machines, but rather, more of the utilitarian robots they had dispatched earlier.

  The front row of mechanical soldiers exploded as Otrid fire tore into them, but the following group opened fire with cutting beams that raked across Kwed’s troops. The beams were not strong at this distance—they had clearly been engineered for close-in fighting—but the pain was very real when the flickering light burned across Otrid skin.

  Kwed ordered his troops into defensive formation, but as he continued firing, something about the situation did not seem right. This assault by patched-together machinery revealed that either the human defense forces had been eliminated, or this was a deception.

  There must be more of them in this vast place.

  The thought had no sooner run through his mind when he detected large shapes dropping from the shadowy ceiling.

  At first, Kwed thought they were more robots. The glimpse of long limbs descending reminded him of construction machinery used in Otrid shipyards.

  That impression died when the first of these appendages brushed against his skin.

  It was living flesh.

  With a start Kwed realized they were being attacked by the long-legged aliens from the methane-heavy world from which they had staged their invasion—the world he had just cleansed of all higher singleton life forms.

  He pivoted out of the way of the falling bodies, rumbling curses as he raised his weapon and fired a spread into the nearest of the dimwitted aliens to land.

  He issued orders in a burst of sound and spores. His troops responded quickly, moving from underneath the assault from above, reorienting to try to place the alien creatures between the advancing robots and themselves. Even so, several of his warriors were already covered by three or more of the swarming aliens. Their barbed legs stabbed furiously at his troops, and Kwed could read the uncontrolled anger animating his new foes.

  With rising rage and frustration, Kwed fought off another of the creatures that had launched itself at him. He knocked its legs from under it with his surge lash, leaving smoldering wounds on the rough hide. He brought the lash down hard across the alien’s head, splitting open its skull and spilling its contents.

  This attack was baffling. How had any of these creatures survived? Why had the humans not exterminated them all after their role in the first attack?

  Something about the whole thing triggered inside him a new fear, one he couldn’t immediately voice. It wasn’t a fear of the aliens themselves; they were little more than beasts, and his soldiers had easily defeated them in far greater numbers than these. But the implications of them fighting in this large one’s ship on the side of the humans…

  As he fought and issued commands, Kwed’s Harness of Lordship fed him a steady supply of tactical prompts and relevant data. One possible action drifted to the forefront of the information flow. Otrid researchers, in the early days of the staging world invasion, had developed a series of biotechnological tools that had helped subdue the native population.

  Kwed engaged them now.

  He did not have all the tools available to flood the space, but his Harness of Lordship had embedded sound-wave ribbons that allowed Kwed to blast an audio frequency that had been proven to stun the long-legged creatures.

  Kwed ordered his soldiers to release spores that had been successfully used in the past to pacify the aliens. In moments the air grew thick with the heavy mood-altering particles.

  The combination of targeted sound and scent had the desired effect—they hesitated, many of them actually stumbling as the dual forces washed over them. Kwed waded in with his surge lash, swinging it with brutal precision as the aliens stood tottering on suddenly shaky legs. His troops followed, and in moments they had pushed the alien force into a position between the Otrid lines and the human’s mechanized forces. Many of them scrambled to escape, gangly legs rising and falling in broken cadence as they picked their way between the robots.

  “Vanguard group, line up and lay down coordinated fire,” Kwed ordered, “I don’t want any of these singletons to escape.”

  His number three waved an acknowledgment—then arched his back in sudden agony as he was struck by a new wave of beams that swept the chamber.

  Kwed whirled around to locate the source. From the large open area that led to the ship’s center, human fi
ghters were positioned to block his way. They concealed themselves behind support struts, or lay on the deck, firing into the mass of his troops.

  One of them stared at Kwed with an intense focus. This human was undoubtedly their leader, and he had identified Kwed as his counterpart. Kwed raised his fragmenter and fired, but found that the human was already in motion. Kwed was astonished as how quickly the singleton moved. He darted forward, dodging and feinting as he advanced, almost too quickly for Kwed to follow.

  There was something different about this human. Between the plates of its armor, Kwed saw that its skin was riven with silvery veins—some sort of implanted technology. Unlike the other humans Kwed had exterminated earlier, this one carried a long bladed weapon, which he brandished as if it was a natural limb. It was a jarring contrast to see a human imbued with advanced technology and wielding primitive tools of war.

  With shocking speed, the human leaped over Kwed’s back, slashing the long blade across his sail segment. Sharp pain raced through Kwed’s body, followed by a dullness, as if a part of him had gone numb.

  The human landed, pivoted, and drove his blade into Kwed’s side. Kwed felt the shock of the injury but his Harness of Lordship quickly worked to block the pain. He struck down with his surge lash. The human partially blocked it with his sword, but the tip of the lash struck across the top of his torso. He let out a sharp cry as pieces of his armor burned away, but did not fall.

  The two circled each other, ignoring the chaos around them as all the combatants, both biologic and mechanical, closed upon each other, turning the deck of the large one’s ship into a churning battlefield. Kwed was only dimly aware that the effects from the spores and the auditory burst he’d released were diminishing, and the primitive methane-breathers were returning to the fray.