Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

by Doug Dandridge

  “And what does that mean to us?” asked Jackie. “I felt that way too. But it went away after a good breathing period.”

  “It means that the part of us that can’t handle heat starts dying off,” said Levine, nodding his head. “We lose neural tissue.”

  “But we heal?” said Jackie, a concerned expression on her face. “We heal that damage, right?”

  “Oh we heal,” said the ancient Jew. “The problem again comes back to memories. That neural material contains memories. And they do not return.”

  “So what’s the way around that problem?” asked Jackie, not wanting to lose those memories of her past and her family.

  “There is none, except to take a breather while in combat,” said the ancient man.

  “But that’s not always possible,” said Kurt, an exasperated tone in his voice. “Those beasts today left us no room for a, breather.”

  “And there lies the problem, my friend,” said Levine, shrugging his shoulders. “When you need to fight, you fight. When you need to run, you run. It’s survival. And when you have finished surviving you deal with the consequences.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair,” said Jackie, putting her face in her hands. “We have all these abilities.”

  “But the cost is high,” finished Levine with a nod. “As with everything in life. Even super powers.”

  Chapter Three

  “Son of a bitch,” exclaimed Captain George Burns, looking at the fortress through his field glasses. He had thought, looking at it in the darkness before the dawn, silhouetted by the moonlight, that it seemed menacing. Dark and foreboding. But he figured that in the light of day it would look like any other medieval fortress he had ever seen.

  But the stonework looked like nothing he had ever seen or imagined. Like basalt, black and glassy, with no joinings. It looked like it had been carved out of one single piece of rock. How, he didn’t know, but it had to be something beyond what he knew about stonework. Not, he admitted, that he had known much about stonework, but in this world he might have to learn.

  “Men are all in position,” said the man beside him, the senior NCO, hooked up to the command trac’s communication system. “We’re ready when you are.”

  The Captain looked again at the fortress, thinking about what might be inside. It was the size of the large fort he had seen in Wuzburg. The one that held a king and his court in Renaissance times. Which meant it could probably hold a couple of thousand troops, including mounts for cavalry.

  “I heard this is one of their Imperial Forts,” said the First Sergeant, Herb Garcia. “Home of their first line troops, and not their levies.”

  “That’s why we need to take it out,” said the Captain, nodding. “And it controls one of the valleys we’re sure to need for our establishment on this planet. As well as that fine road we came on.”

  And they have to know we’re here, thought Burns, sweeping the glasses over the battlements and noting the presence of armored men marching their rounds. Some of his men had run into patrols on their way here. They had taken out everyone they could account for, which didn’t mean some hadn’t gotten away. Or that messages hadn’t been sent to the fortress by some incomprehensible means. Like the telepathy that seemed to be the talk of the Army.

  “On my command, open fire,” Burns said to his Top Sergeant, who was standing there with him, headphones to his ears as he looked out at the fortress.

  The reinforced mechanized company should have no problem killing the natives. He had his fourteen APCs covering every approach to the fortress with their auto cannon, their dismounted infantry under cover closer to the structure with machine guns, auto rifles and rocket launchers. His three 120mm mortars were prepped and in range, while his attached platoon of four Abrams tanks were leveled and ready to fire. But his biggest surprise for the fort, the battery of four attached Paladin SP guns, would open the barrage.

  “There’s one of them damned dragons,” called a voice over the net.

  Burns cursed yet again as he focused the glasses on the large winged form that appeared on the wall. He estimated the scale from the small figure on its back, and thought that it was only the size of a couple of elephants. The creature screamed at the sky and leapt into the air. As soon as it gained height a couple of other shapes jumped after it, then two more, followed by a single, until there were six of the monsters circling the fortress.

  “Wizards and dragons,” mumbled the Captain, shaking his head. “Two of the things that can kill our vehicles. Wizards and dragons.

  “Top,” he said in a low voice to the NCO next to him. “Get on the horn and see if we can get some choppers up here. And see if our Linebackers can get a good firing solution on those beasts.” He only had two of the specialized Bradley AA tracs, and wished he had more. Hell, everyone wishes they had more of everything, he thought. That’s true of all military operations. But we’re like the Russians at Stalingrad. We have what we have, and it behooves us to make the most of it.

  “They look like they’re looking for something,” said one of the platoon leaders over the net.

  “Yeah, us,” answered another.

  The Captain felt the sweat working its way down his brow, even in the cool of the brightening morning. They were going to attack any moment, and copter support wouldn’t get here for at least a half an hour. And he wasn’t willing to wait that long.

  “This is Burns,” he said, pulling his own headphones on. “Change of order. Artillery is to set fuses to go off two hundred meters over the target. Time on target of four rounds each. Linebackers take the dragons under fire with all missiles or until all of the dragons are down. All auto weapons to target the dragons as well. Tanks go for targets of opportunity. Everything but artillery wait for the air bursts. Artillery open up on my command. Acknowledge”

  Burns looked up at the monsters, which seemed to be widening their circle over the fortress as the acknowledgements came over the circuit. He waited a half minute for fuses to be set, then keyed his mike.

  “Fire,” he ordered over the circuit, then waited for the result. Twenty kilometers away, in another valley, the four Paladins fired their first rounds, arching them high into the air. Auto loading systems pushed the next round into the barrel even as those barrels were lowering elevation. Second rounds fired, third rounds loaded as the barrels dropped again. Fourth and final rounds loaded as the barrels dropped again, then recoiled as they sent the 155mm shells into the sky.

  The sixteen shells, falling in on different arcs that would loft them all over the target at the same time, came in over the fortress just as the dragons were moving out of their circling formation to move to the attack. Each round burst two hundred meters over the fortress, releasing fifty ball shaped micro munitions that fell fifty meters before detonating in the air. Four of the dragons took direct hits from multiple balls, ripping killing holes in the monsters that dropped them lifeless from the sky. The two remaining took some shrapnel that caused the monsters to scream in pain while looking for whatever had attacked them. One retained a pilot. The other’s pilot sat decapitated on the back of his mount, while the dragon followed the remaining piloted monster.

  Linebacker APCs fired with their thirty millimeter radar guided guns while they rippled pairs of antiaircraft missiles at the remaining dragons. Three missiles hit, along with the streams of explosive rounds, and the remaining two dragons fell out of the air.

  “Fire second salvo,” ordered the Captain over the artillery circuit. “Ground target engagement.”

  A trio of 120mm mortar rounds flew at the fortress as the Captain commanded the big guns. Two dropped behind the walls, sending up balls of dirty fire as they exploded, while the third struck the wall of the fortress and detonated. Captain Burns observed the spot of the strike and swore under his breath as he noted that the hard basalt was barely scored. A second volley of mortar rounds came down behind the walls, followed by a third.

  Thirty millimeter auto cannon raked the walls from three
directions, knocking down the soldiers on the ramparts, except for those who hid or covered behind the crenellations. The tanks hit the towers with their armor piercing rounds, doing little damage. One tank fired head on into the main gate of the castle and left the metal valves sagging on their bent hinges. A second blast tore one of the valves off its mount to fall into the dirt road.

  The second salvo of time on target rounds came down on the fort at that time, the sixteen rounds dropping their sub munitions into the fortress where they exploded with a sound like strings of fire crackers going off. Four rounds dropped every six seconds after, for a half minute, as the Paladins used up their ready supply of ammo. Clouds of smoke rose into the air from the interior of the fort, while a pair of tanks fired rounds through the gates and the mortars continued their work.

  “We’re not doing anything to that stone wall,” yelled the First Sergeant over the explosive blasts coming from the fort.

  “We’re probably doing a bang up job inside the fort though,” said the Captain. “Cease fire,” he ordered over the radio. “Send up some recon drones and let’s see what we have inside that place.”

  The Captain waited for a few moments, tension building in his shoulders, as the saucer shaped drones flew to and then over the target. He watched the take of the drones’ cameras as they went over the wall and hovered about the courtyards of the fortress, the First Sergeant and the commander of the tank platoon looking over his shoulder.

  The view of one drone showed a large courtyard, stone buildings surrounding it. Fires were burning in some of the buildings. Bodies were scattered about the courtyard, both men and horses. The horses had dropped while running in panic, while the men were dropped running to something. The Captain attempted to count the bodies and figured there were at least a hundred in the courtyard, about half in armor, the other in casual clothing.

  The take from the second drone showed another courtyard, with more bodies, and some large pens that had roof hatches opened to the sky. Six were empty, while another two had smaller dragons in them, one lying still in death, the other screeching toward the sky, missing a wing and a front leg. There was an adult lying dead on the cobblestones, steam rising from the body.

  The first drone went into yet another courtyard, this also with bodies, but a few injured were pulling themselves along the ground, leaving smears on the cobblestones. Other Elves were pushing open damaged doors and hurrying out of keeps and buildings, some running to their injured comrades, others looking wide eyed at the inside of the fortress and the destruction that had been done. Within minutes there were scores of the Elves out in the open, some heading for stairways that led to the walls.

  “Like a damned ant nest,” said the Top Sergeant, while one of the Elves looked up until he was looking right into the camera of the drone. The Elf made some frantic gestures and the drone stopped sending images, obviously destroyed by that Elf or another.

  “Fire another volley of four,” ordered the Captain over the net. “Mortars to hit the compound with Willie Peter after the artillery rounds come in.

  “I’m not willing to send my infantry into that fort until I’m sure resistance is broken,” he said to his Top Sergeant. “We can’t get replacements, and from what I’ve heard the higher ups want us to conserve all of our resources, especially soldiers.”

  “That’s fine with me sir,” said the Top Sergeant. “I never much liked the idea of using the troops as cannon fodder. Especially when I’m one of those troops.”

  The crackling sounds of the sixteen rounds of arriving sub munitions sounded from the fortress as the small balls exploded. As soon as they blew the first of the white phosphorous rounds went in, blooms of white smoke rising into the air behind the walls.

  “I want a tank firing into that gateway as soon as the mortars stop,” the Captain ordered. “First platoon, dismounted, is to go into the fort after the smoke settles a bit, followed by their tracs. Second platoon to follow, while third keeps a watch out here.”

  The smoke was starting to settle as the Abrams started firing HE rounds into the open gateway. A half dozen rounds and the infantry went in, tactical formation with one squad of eight in the lead, securing the first courtyard and letting the next squad search the buildings around the open area, while the third squad moved to positions overwatching the next courtyard. The next platoon moved through the area, and the pattern was repeated in the next courtyard.

  There was some sparse firing coming from the fortress over the next ten minutes, then the second platoon leader reported over the radio.

  “We’ve got some prisoners here, sir,” called the Lieutenant over the circuit, panning his helm camera around the large hall of the main keep. “A couple of hundred at least. Mostly civilians and workers I would have to say. Everyone is in shock. And we’ve got a windfall here for the General I would have to say.”

  The camera panned on an armory with stacks of weapons and suits of armor on mannequins. As the Lieutenant moved on they looked into a room with open chests of coins and gems.

  “Good work, Lieutenant,” said the Captain, a smile on his face. “What were your losses?”

  “One killed. Another two wounded, only one seriously,” said the officer. “The Elves were shattered when we came in. Guess they never heard of US firepower.”

  The Captain smiled again as he told the Top Sergeant to contact HQ. Loot and prisoners, just what the General wanted. A few more missions like this and they would be ordered to the stronghold. And the area around here would be well and truly pacified.

  * * *

  Makillia Yoneshine nodded to the man who had escorted her into the presence of the leader of the Earth humans, thanking him for bringing her thus. The priestess of Arathonia looked at the man with a growing alarm, for the last couple of days had been hard on him. There were more gray hairs on his head, and his eyes were set in deepening pits. She knew he had to be carrying the worries of his people on his shoulders, in a situation that nothing had prepared him for.

  And now I must add to that pressure, she thought, a sad smile on her face.

  “Madame,” said Taylor, standing and offering his hand, then motioning to a camp chair at the table he used as his desk.

  “My Lord,” replied the Conyastaya priestess. The General smiled at the greeting. They had gone over it days before, the General objecting to the title, saying that he was the servant of a democratic people. She advising him that he was on a new world, with customs that stretched back tens of thousands of years. And eventually he had good naturedly allowed the traditional greeting of a leader to be rendered.

  “And what can I do for my lady this day,” answered the leader in accented German, a language that she now had a passing acquaintance with and could understand and make herself understood in.

  [Would you prefer to speak mind to mind,] she sent to him telepathically. Most of the humans had some ability, even more so than the Ellala, who were known to be the most talented practitioners on this world.

  “I would prefer speech,” said the General with a smile, shaking his head in the human motion for disagreement. “I’m not used to this talking with the mind, yet. I’m still too new to this to filter out everything I don’t want to say.”

  “I understand,” said the beautiful woman with a smile. “This diplomacy of yours also takes some getting used to. My people prefer to be straightforward and direct. So, in adherence to that, I will get the point.

  “The Gods are angry,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.

  “And who are they angry at?” asked the General, his shoulders tensing as he waited for the shoe to fall.

  “They are angry at you, my Lord,” said the elfin woman, “and at those you lead.”

  “I thought that we were the answer to your prophecy,” said Taylor, his eyes narrowing. “The prophecy of these good Gods of yours.”

  “You are, General Taylor,” admitted the woman with a frown. “And you are to be the answer to our prayers. But your machin
es. The way you tear up the earth and fell the trees. They are an affront to the Gods.”

  “And what will the Gods do about it?” said Taylor, letting out his pent up breath. “We need those machines if we are to survive. And I was told that they would stop working sometime in the near future as it was. Something about some of the laws of your world being different from ours. So we need to get what we can out of our machines while we can use them.”

  “The Gods will exert their powers to cause your machines to cease functioning,” said the woman, her eyes widening into a faraway look.

  “And what of your Goddess, Arathonia?” said the General. “I thought that she wanted us here, to help fulfill the prophecy. Can’t she see that we need the help of the Gods, and not have barriers put up in front of us?”

  “My Goddess is doing all that she can,” said the priestess, stiffening in her chair. “She is exerting all of her energies to reign in the other Gods of her pantheon. But the other Gods, though they support you and the prophecy, also have their own agendas, and will not use their energies to oppose the other Pantheons.”

  “Other Pantheons,” said the General, his brows narrowing. “What other pantheons?”

  “You do not have the confusion of many Gods on your world?” asked the priestess. “I thought not. Arathonia is the Queen of the Gods of life. There are twelve major Gods including her, and each has two minor Gods that serve their individual cause. But there are also three other pantheons, Law, Chaos and Death, each with a Dozen Major Gods and twenty-four minor Gods. Life and Death are opposed to each other. As are Law and Chaos. But sometimes Law sides with Life and sometimes with Death. It is the same with Chaos. And in this situation Law and Chaos are both siding with death, as they feel the presence of your machines upset the balance.”

  “I see,” said the General, looking down at his desk. The priestess knew this had to be difficult for the man. She knew from the conversations she had been having with the scientists, hard as it was to believe, that his world did not have manifestations of Gods like this one. They worshiped what amounted to one God. A very powerful one indeed, who could probably sweep the Gods of her world away with one hand. But a God who didn’t outwardly manifest his power except on rare occurrences.