When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars)

by Korenman, Adam

  Arthur hadn’t touched him once they’d boarded the escape pod. Save from tying his hands and placing a black hood over the High Chancellor’s head, Arthur had been a rather pleasant captor. He rationed the small supply of food so Alexander never felt too hungry, and was quick to bring a small sip of water whenever Alexander felt parched. It was more than a little unnerving, his attentive aide’s constant presence. But that wasn’t the frightening part of the journey. It was never knowing where they were headed, what fate awaited at their destination. Alexander had a vivid imagination and played each scenario over and over again.

  Mostly he’d thought about a quick end. The hood would be yanked off to blinding light, probably a set for the cameras. His captor would give a quick speech and Alexander’s last sight would be the barrel of a gun inches from his face. Or, if they were less comfortable with taking life, he would stare into the eye of a camera and feel the cool metal on the back of his head. Either way, it would be swift. If they were less compassionate, he might get a rope or an axe. Jonah had always been fond of blades. Maybe they’d just take him somewhere high up and kick him off the side. That wouldn’t be so bad.

  But sitting in his cell, surrounding by a hollow silence and completely cut off from his senses, his mind had found new and horrifying ways to die. Each one elaborate and dragged out, squeezing every drop of pain imaginable before finally allowing his withered husk of a shell to fail.

  Sudden blinding white light spilled into the room, engulfing the politician. He shut his eyes, but stars danced in front of him. He felt strong hands grab his arms and hoist him up, dragging him from the cell. Alexander struggled to put his feet underneath him, but the men on either side marched too quickly. His shoes had been removed and he felt soft but firm carpet on his toes. Doors opened and closed quickly on either side, and the rabble of voices dissolved into one indiscernible mess.

  They turned down one corridor, then another and another. The journey seemed to take forever, though in reality could have only been a few minutes. When Alexander was finally able to open his eyes, they were already in the last room. The space was immense, but filled with equipment Alexander knew all too well. In fact, in just the few seconds he had to look around, the High Chancellor knew exactly where he was. He’d been in this room, in this building, hundreds of times over the course of his career. Every politician who’d ever served had been seated where he was now, staring at a line of cameras and monitors with a digital display of downtown at his back.

  This was the Galactic News building, and he was in the main studio. Alexander almost smiled as his captor walked into the room. Not Arthur, no, he was just the facilitator of the kidnapping. This man walked with more swagger, despite a slight limp in his right leg. His face was warm and beaming as he pulled a chair from behind the anchor desk and sat down facing the politician. Jonah looked at Alexander with his ocean blue eyes, smiling without humor.

  “Hello, Alec.”

  The politician grinned.“Jonah. It’s been a long time.”Alexander looked around the room.“If you wanted an interview, you only had to phone my press agent.”

  “I did,”Jonah said, motioning to Arthur standing in the corner.“Thankfully he was able to bypass your schedule. This meeting couldn’t wait any longer. I don’t know if you’re aware, but the situation facing our species has become somewhat dire.”

  Alexander scoffed.“What do you think you’re going get from this? Killing me doesn’t change a thing. You’re still just a small-time thug holed up in a tower.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Alexander. You know the adage about the cat being away? We’ve grown fat off your absence.”Jonah stood, pacing a slow circle around the High Chancellor.“New York didn’t accept us at first, but Kerrigan managed to bring most of the Americas under our control. The other countries followed, one by one, until our power overwhelmed Fleet’s control of Earth. It seems like the people of this planet are sick and tired of being lorded over by a group of old men in Vienna.”

  Alexander glared, his eyes burning.“You think they’ll so happily trade in the Federate for your sick new government?”

  “No,”Jonah said.“I expect they won’t even notice a change. We’re not reinventing the wheel, Alexander. The Hammer isn’t going to break down the system, just reinforce it. In five years, they won’t care that we took control by strength of arms. In ten years, they might not even remember how it all happened. In thirty years, the history books will all be written to support our actions.”

  The politician had to admit, human nature was on Jonah’s side. Even the most horrific events lost their power when transmitted over great time or distances. During the Mars War, Colorum had chosen to stand completely neutral, despite being a major trade partner for the red planet. The pain from the initial attack on New York would vanish as the families of the victims grew older. Already the city had moved on to more important stories, only recalling the bombings as part of an ongoing human interest piece, and Jonah’s saturation of the media with pro-Red Hammer rhetoric had only helped to bury any opposition he may have faced.

  Alexander had watched the drama unfold while buffered by several million lightyears aboard the Imperion. The Unified Russian-Chinese Republic had thrown in its hat with the rebels weeks after the incident in the Big Apple. Europe hadn’t clung on much longer, and the African sprawl knew Kerrigan from his relationship with many of their more popular dictators. Admiral Gilroy had always regarded the Hammer as a group of thugs and brutes without the wherewithal to pull off more than a terrorist bombing. Alexander had known better. The coordinated attacks around Earth had been surgical, destabilizing regimes that the Hammer had whittled down to mere husks of their former selves. Though they had no way to suspect at the time, the planet had been lost long before the fight had even started. The High Chancellor shook his head. Gilroy is dead, he thought. Along with most of the people you called friends. Donald and Jerry. Councillors Weller and Karamsha. Even that poor pilot.

  Jonah motioned to one of his soldiers and Alexander was hoisted to his feet. The bonds tying his hands fell away, and he rubbed his wrists to ease the tingling and burning left from the rope. A firm palm came down on his shoulder and pushed him forward to follow after Jonah. They walked out of the studio and down the hall, up several flights of stairs and into a beautifully designed elevator. At the top floor, the doors opened to Jonah’s office, the study of the former CEO. Jonah sat down next to a gorgeous marble chess set, gesturing for Alexander to sit in the opposing chair.

  The High Chancellor resigned himself to the situation and eased into the cushioned seat. He admired the ornate oak board between him and the terrorist leader. Each hand-sculpted figure was a work of art, but something was off. The characters were not arranged in a starting position. It looked as though they were sitting down to a game already in progress. As Alexander surveyed the arrangement, a realization dawned. Jonah smiled from across the set, waving away all of his guards. One, a particularly brutish man, held back by the door.

  “Is there anything else, Vic?”Jonah asked.

  Victor scowled, leaving his comment unsaid as he turned and left the room, closing the door.

  Alexander looked at his pieces on the board, then up at Jonah. The whole scene felt like a dream, surreal and unnatural.“So, now what?”

  “We have some time to kill, Alexander. I think you remember where we started this. It’s about time we finished.”

  - X -

  Timothy knew help wasn’t coming. He could hear the sounds of war just over the hill, and every explosion sent up a column of smoke visible for miles around. He’d taken his daughter to the roof once the dust had settled so they could see the rescue coming. When the orbital strike broke the morning silence, he decided they had to find their own way out.

  They’d found a radio a few days earlier and used it to listen for news of safe zones or any helpful information. No luck so far. Timothy had been content to move a few buildings every night, but now he saw there wa
s no time. Alien transports flew low over the city, firing at anything that moved. Father and daughter had been lucky, heading inside just as the invading force moved in. There were still infected creatures loitering in the streets and they gave chase, leaping off balconies to latch onto passing shuttles. Crashing ships started fires that raged out of control, consuming whole city blocks.

  “Are you ready?”Timothy asked.

  Mary took a sip from her thermos. Cartoon characters covered the outside, but it was the only thing child-like about her. Timothy’s daughter had become so serious in the last week. She had adjusted much better than any adult he knew.“I’m ready, Dad.”

  He kept his hand over the doorknob to the rear exit, hoping the tremors in his fingers were from the constant explosions. After a short count he twisted the knob and opened the door. All was calm in the back alley. He checked each direction and took a tentative step outside. Turning to his daughter, he nodded.“Let’s go.”

  - XI -

  The gliders opened without a hitch. Josh and his team soared in slowly winding circles, keeping the smoldering carrier in sight. Wind blew up in gusts from the flames below. More than once, an Archangel lost control and spiraled down a few hundred feet before regaining control. The rain didn’t help, and the stretched fabric of the wings often lost its grip and slipped out of place. Each time, the soldier had to manually pull the wings back in and redeploy in free fall. It made the journey take half the time, Josh had to concede.

  They hit the ground running, collapsing their flight kits and bringing their weapons to bear. Those on the ground created a tight circle and waited for the rest of the team. Once Josh was safely down, they headed out. The rain and fog masked their movement as they crossed the scorched countryside and marched toward the enemy fortress. It took hours to reach the rally point, and the sun was low on the horizon by the time they set up camp.

  Their mission was simple. Markov would have loved to spend weeks scouring the ship for all the hidden gems it had to guard, but Sasha had convinced him of a more important task. The Archangels brought with them a suitcase. Inside, inert in its unarmed state, was a simple looking bomb. When placed in the right spot, Josh had been told, the bomb could reduce the enormous alien ship to rubble. Thunder and Lightning had created a handy opening on the rooftop at the highest level. The trick was getting up there. If it hadn’t been for the anti-air batteries, they could have landed on the roof. Each Archangel had a set of magnetic grapnels and climbing equipment in their packs, but no one relished the thought of scaling the alien structure.

  As the group set up camp, Dax walked over to his commander. In his suit, he looked more machine than man.“Josh,”he said.

  “What is it?”

  Dax pulled his friend to the side to talk alone. It was unnecessary; the MCU inside the soldier had already isolated the audio link between the two soldiers.“Where is everybody?”

  Josh shrugged.“Most of the Black Adders were pushed into Metts a day or so ago. The 151st is gone, along with most of the other divisions.”He sat down on a large flat rock. Sticking his thumbs into small slots by his jaw, he disconnected the helmet and eased it off it head. His hair was slick with sweat, matted to his face.“Most of the civilians were sent to the Arks, if they made it out of the cities.”

  Dax pulled of his mask, taking a deep breath of cold air.“At least the far side of the planet is pretty untouched,”he said.“But that’s not what I meant. We haven’t seen a single alien since we landed.”

  Josh wiped his forehead with a gloved hand.“I don’t know, maybe they all ran off to fight. Maybe this place has automated defenses and doesn’t need a crew. It doesn’t change the mission.”

  Dax sighed.“I guess you’re right. It’s just, I feel really weird.”

  Josh laughed.“Dax, you’re a professional athlete serving in the military, you have about a few billion credits worth of microscopic machines inside your body, you’re wearing armor more armor than most tanks, and we’re about to climb into an alien ship to blow it up. Feeling‘fine’would be worrisome.‘Weird’is par for the course.”He stood, placing a hand on Dax’s bicep.“However we got here, there’s nothing left to do but the job.”

  Walking back into camp, Josh was happy to see the soldiers working with such coordination. Only months ago they had been at each other’s throats, fighting for a prize none of them knew existed. There was still work to be done, but Josh had to admit he felt some pride in being a part of this unit. There had never been anything like the Archangels before. It was a great feeling to be a part of something that big.

  Cold wind rushed through the hilly area, sending chilling gusts at the Archangels as they worked. The soldiers stretched thin tarp between posted branches and created a small half-shelter. Josh put them at fifty percent security and let everyone catch a few hours rest before the climb. Before they took a break, they gathered in the center of camp. The lieutenant checked his watch. 23:15, right on schedule.

  “Archangels,”Josh said, standing.“Our pilot is gonna set down and wait for us to finish. We’ll start up at 0300. That should put us on the roof by 0530 at the latest. We might end up staying a day or two inside before we activate the TRD, so eat light.”

  “Hooah,”Dax said.“Needed to trim down a few pounds anyway, boss.”

  Josh nodded.“Bravo’s taking first watch, so grab what sleep you can. Tomorrow, we hunt.”

  * * * * *

  The enemy fled before him, as countless others had in years before. Standing atop the shattered hulk of a human tank, Eruk djun Tolan basked in his victory. In his entire life, he had never encountered a foe worthy of a challenge, and these fleshy creatures were no different. It saddened him somewhat, knowing that there existed no being capable of giving him a good fight.

  His armies had landed only a few hours after the humans’petty sneak attack. Within a day, the enemy was routed. Now they hunted down every fighting man and woman, crushing them into paste. The Druuma cautioned that the Clerics would not approve of such a response, but Eruk no longer cared. They could come and remove him from the field of battle if it pleased them so. He was content to wade through the bloody fields with the ground troops. With any luck, he’d bring home a few new skulls for his collection.

  “I have sent word to the Ma’Arak,”the Drumma said. It gurgled in his chest.

  Eruk grunted.“They have no place here. I am in command of this system.”

  “You have too few forces to conquer this planet on the ground. And a Cleric must be present to witness a purge.”

  “Fine,”the warlord said.“But I wish to kill something before the High Commander arrives.”

  The Parasite seemed to like that idea. Together, the Cthanul and Druuma joined a small raiding party and set out into the world in search of a fight.

  - XII -

  February 25, 2237

  Fort Metts burned. Fires roared across the entire base, leaving the skeletal remains of buildings across the landscape. Smoke billowed so thick it blotted out the sun, causing a perpetual night to cover the entire area. The screams of the wounded and dying were drowned out by the constant staccato of machine guns and pulse of plasma bolts. Every few minutes the ground would shudder from a bombing run, followed swiftly by the thunderous explosion.

  Zev raced from building to building, using the shattered remains of the post exchange for cover while catching his breath. He checked his rifle, pulling the magazine out to count remaining rounds. From the weight he knew he had twenty-six remaining, not counting one locked in the chamber. In the pouches on his vest sat another four magazines, each holding forty-five rounds. It wasn’t enough by a long shot.

  The offensive had failed as quickly as it had started. Even after the shock and awe effect of Thunder and Lightning, the Boxti had recovered and launched a sweeping counterattack. The Scorpion tanks routed Charlie Company, forcing a hasty retreat toward the reserve line. Smaller scout vehicles—dubbed Pillbugs or“Pills”after their single rolling wheel underneat
h the chassis—pushed the scouts off the hill and pursued them relentlessly. Half of Zev’s platoon was simply run down, shot to pieces by the rapid-fire cannons each Pill carried. The rest of the scouts, including the lieutenant, had continued to run until they found themselves inside Fort Metts, or rather the civilian living section known as Paradise Point.

  By this time, enemy air had joined the fight. A swarm of Y-shaped Hornets descended from the skies, as well as smaller aircraft nicknamed Wasps after the unique report of its single-core engine. These scout craft harassed ground troops with small rocket pods and twin repeater cannons. Operating in groups of three to five, the Wasps erased the frontline and scattered the remaining infantry. Friendly air arrived too late to hold off the attack and was forced to act as a reactionary force. In moments, the sky became a chaotic free-for-all of streaking missiles and exploding jets. Burning metal rained down on the fleeing human forces.

  Zev and what remained of Shadow took up a position inside an abandoned building, once the middle school. Despite the recent violence, the interior was remarkably intact. As the soldiers crept through the classrooms, the empty desks and neatly stacked books only added to the tension. Built of thick brick walls and insulation against the cool winter, the school blocked out most of the sounds from the outside. It was too quiet.

  “Any station this net, this is Shadow one. Come in.”Lieutenant Gabriel held the radio in a bandaged hand. Blood soaked the gauze, seeping out onto the cuff of his shirt. Their truck had taken a direct hit coming into the base, and the officer had nearly lost his arm when the vehicle rolled over. Zev managed to drag him inside just in time, but his hand had been crushed between the door frame and the road. He didn’t complain, however. His pistol was out and searching every corner and shadow.

  Zev walked closer to his platoon leader.“Anything, sir?”