Void Dragon

by William Kephart

  The Enemy wave didn’t look like it was abating, not at all. There was no subtlety, just pure blunt force. They showed no concern at all for casualties as they died by the score but kept advancing at the same pace.

  Channels!

  Zhamisce signed desperately, Channels! Channels!

  There was no stopping them. They needed to leave gaps for them to flow through or be crushed.

  Only the marines right around him seemed to recognize what he wanted and left a gap in the line. His head swiveled around, hoping the other sections were doing the same, but only a few were.

  Then the lines crashed together. It was like sticking your head in a beehive. The Enemy was just everywhere, buzzing and stinging. He was knocked upside down and his jump jets nearly plunged him into the water. Bayonets flashed in his peripheral vision and he activated his own by instinct, swinging his gun around and firing blindly. He completely lost track of where he was, killing anything he could get close to like a wild animal.

  Then, as if the battle was a rainstorm that could just suddenly stop, the Enemy was gone, having broken through to their rear.

  Unnumbered dead floated in the water, Mei and Kuei’tang alike, but he didn’t have time to think about that.

  Rally to me, he signed, and the survivors followed to hit the Enemy from behind as they reached the second line.

  He dropped down to the water and started skimming the surface again. Zhamisce had never liked 3-D fighting, too easy to get turned around. If this was to be his last battle he’d go out his way.

  Still, it wasn’t easy going. He tripped over a dead body several times and the water was thicker the further he traveled. Have we spilled so much blood today? There weren’t many living people left there, that was for sure.

  Zhamisce started to worry the Enemy had brushed the second line aside and broken through all the way to the guns when a trooper to his left signed contact.

  The Kuei’tang line wasn’t a line any more. Whether from the channels they left or the thousands they’d mowed down, the Enemy had broken down into several disorganized blobs and hadn’t managed to reform.

  Amateurs, he thought, disgusted. If they knew what they were doing we’d have completely collapsed by now.

  It was true, the second line, rather than being pressed everywhere and steamrolled like the first, was able to concentrate their fire and enfilade the Enemy clusters. The wings were already wrapping around to seal the kill box.

  “Let’s not let them have all the fun!” he shouted, but nobody heard him. The shroud was up so electronic communication was out, and it was too loud for verbal. Zhamisce signed a hasty plan to separate into small groups and hit the Enemy from the rear.

  Come on! Come on! He snarled. The Enemy was packed so tightly he couldn’t miss if he tried. The dead didn’t even fall, being held up by the press of their comrades.

  He grit his teeth and held down the trigger, hearing nothing but the indistinct buzz of thousands of flechette guns going chikchikchik. The Enemy was cut to pieces before they even had time to realize they were surrounded and panic.

  “You want some? Come get some! URRRRAAAAAAAA!”

  He poured it on, walking his weapon from one cluster to another, frantically scanning for more targets—

  A hand tapped him on his shoulder and Zhamisce almost shot the person attached to it. The only thing that stopped him was the height of the man surprising him and short circuiting his brain. What the hell is a Ren doing here?

  “At ease, Marine,” said General Tang. It had to be General Tang.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” he stuttered out. How long was I firing? It seemed like no time at all.

  General Tang knelt down and lifted his visor. He looked absurdly youthful for a general. Zhamisce even felt a little jealous. Years of hard living and hard fighting had left him looking older than his actual age. How had a general managed to stay looking like that? Must be a Ren thing.

  “Major Zhamisce, I presume, and I suppose this is all that remains of our northern flank?” he asked, indicating the men milling about who had followed him from the first line.

  “All that was with me, sir. More could be strung out along the line.”

  Tang snapped out a hand signal, search, and a squad of Ren infiltrators took up like racehorses.

  “They’ll gather whatever stragglers they can and bring them back. I’m afraid the outer line is now indefensible. We’ve beaten their planetary militia, but the regulars will be coming right behind them, I expect.”

  No way. “You’re telling me they nearly overran us with milita?”

  Tang tsked. “Not the Marine Corps’ proudest moment, I grant you, but we’re not licked yet. They’ve been test firing the captured iceberg guns and may soon be ready to turn them on the Enemy fleet. We just need to hold a little longer.”

  Zhamisce sighed. “How?” he asked blankly.

  Tang turned away from him and didn’t speak for a moment.

  “We don’t have the numbers to man the outer perimeter, not even close, but we need the strategic depth. If we maintained only one line the Enemy would’ve broken through it. What to do...what to do...”

  The general looked like a figure skater, pondering and plotting as he glid across the water with absurd grace.

  “Ah, I have it! We don’t have the numbers, but the Enemy doesn’t know that. Major, you seem to have a talent for coming through in impossible situations, or we wouldn’t be speaking. I’m placing you in command of our northern flank. We shall abandon the second line of defense. When the Enemy attacks you shall make a fighting retreat and draw them out after you. I still have a few companies of fast movers with me as a reserve. Once the Enemy is extended enough I shall lead the flanking action myself.

  “Do you believe you can hold?” Tang asked keenly.

  “For a while, sir,” Zhamisce said bravely but stupidly.

  “Good man.” Tang slapped him on the back. “Remember, fighting retreat. Bend, but don’t break. I must arrange something similar on the other fronts, and time is of the essence. Get going, and good hunting, Marine!”

  Zhamisce saluted and sped off, hundreds of marines following him.

  ***

  The Enemy gave them a suspiciously long time to prepare. It was twilight now and he was beginning to suspect they had a nasty surprise of their own planned. In any case, his troopers dug in as best they could and awaited the deluge.

  “Remember, once they get close we’re on the hot foot,” Zhamisce said to a second lieutenant. “Don’t try to stand your ground. It didn’t work last time.”

  “I remember,” the junior officer said bitterly.

  Poor kid. This might be his first battle.

  He carried on his inspection down the line. Marines stopped what they were doing and just stared as he passed.

  They know we’re the last.

  “All right, Captain?” he asked another officer, just to fill the silence. They didn’t have many officers left.

  “Better than you,” the man said.

  “Ogun? Is that you?” Zhamisce could hardly believe it. “I thought I lost you in that big scrap earlier!” He couldn’t keep the happiness out of his voice. They clasped each other at the wrist.

  “Hard to kill, Major. Nearly bought it on Harbin, you know.”

  “I remember. You told me that kid stayed behind instead.”

  “Yep.”

  Ogun never was much for words. They just stood there and waited. Zhamisce couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be. The moment was spoiled by a small wave that nearly knocked him down.

  “What the hell was that?”

  His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for something, anything that might indicate the Enemy was behind this. After some fruitless searching Ogun pointed behind them with his thumb.

  “Well, son of a bitch! That’s what we’ve been waiting for!”

  The iceberg guns were firing, and he could clearly see little dots of light where they were hitting the Enemy
fleet far above.

  “Look there, marines! They’ve done it! They’ve done it!” Zhamisce yelled.

  A mighty cheer arose from the ranks, and like a dawn breaking, their grim spirit became hopeful once again.

  Zhamisce could positively feel the Enemy massing on the horizon, but the prospect didn’t seem half so daunting now.

  He signed a message to be passed up and down the line: suppressing fire, fall back by fire team.

  The hope was that their hasty retreat would create a salient that General Tank could pinch off and form a kill box, a larger version of what happened to the Enemy’s last attack.

  The marines moonwalked backwards in small groups, pausing every now and again to lend some focused covering fire to their comrades. They were spread pretty loose but things began to tighten up as they pulled back.

  It was a few hundred meters before Zhamisce realized something was wrong. “They’re just standing there. Why aren’t they attacking?”

  Then the gentle waves that had been nipping at their heels suddenly became a great geyser that upended everyone around him.

  The pressure became intense as he frantically tried to right himself against the waters that had become a whirling maelstrom. He was tossed about so violently his suit automatically locked itself in stiff mode to prevent injuries. It was all he could do to ride it out and try to catch glimpses of what was going on around him.

  His visor started tracking his depth and he knew he was in trouble. Somehow the undertow had taken him nearly to the ocean floor.

  What the hell is going on here?

  After tumbling for some time the currents abated enough for him to get a good look around. Visibility was terrible but he could tell his marines were scattered to hell.

  So much for General Tang’s plan.

  The ocean wasn’t too deep either so he could see the surface from where he was. That was when he saw it.

  A great projectile struck the water from above and plunged all the way down to the bottom. Concussive force permeated through the sea with such violence that he lost himself again and everything around him became cloudy and opaque.

  They’re firing at us from space, just like Harbin.

  Fighting on the surface would be impossible now. His only chance was to swim to calmer waters and try to rally what marines his could. As good as the Enemy was underwater even they couldn’t hope to fight in that chaos. No, their plan was to break up his troopers’ formation before their attack. They needed to reform and be ready.

  He swam south, closer to the iceberg guns, which were still firing somehow. Perhaps Kuei’tang gunnery wasn’t as good as advertised if they hadn’t managed to silence them yet.

  A small school of marines that he picked up along the way gathered around him and they braced for the final attack. No more than company strength now, sore and exhausted, they would hold.

  More marines trickled in from north, south, east, and west. He tried to get intel out of them but didn’t have much luck. The water was a soup of silt and detritus that they could hardly navigate and if the Enemy was coming they’d have very little warning.

  The water was calm, though, and the fire from orbit had tapered off. If the Enemy was planning a final attack they had the perfect conditions for it. Every instinct in his body said it was coming.

  Where are they?

  Over the next half hour his force grew to division strength, or near enough. The marines had recovered their wits now, and managed to gather at a single strong point. They’d be able to make one hell of a bloody last stand when the Enemy showed up, if the Enemy showed up.

  Fuck this.

  Zhamisce decided to check out the surface and signaled for cover. It was supposed to be nighttime now but it was still quite bright.

  That shouldn’t be.

  He swam upward, wondering what had happened. The ocean had an eerie glow that he didn’t understand. They’d been briefed on the planet’s weather and nothing like this had been in the reports. When he reached the surface he understood even less.

  The heavens were lit up with unnatural green fire, as bright as any sun.

  Epilogue

  Chairwoman Cao was as pleased as could be.

  Just now, she was taking a working lunch in her office. Cao’s desk was strewn with half-eaten dishes she was picking at with her off-hand in a well-practiced motion, her focus somewhere else entirely. The skills of her personal chef notwithstanding, this report was just too interesting.

  They’d won on Chengdu, but it’d been a close run thing until the end, and not without cost.

  Casualties within perfectly acceptable tolerances, though, she thought happily. We’ll have a battle-hardened core of veterans with which to rebuild our fleet, and this year’s Academy class is the largest yet.

  All doubters would have to be silent now. The Void Dragon class was an unmitigated success, and so cheap to produce. The dreadnought line would be harder to replace, a shame they couldn’t capture the Kuei’tang fleet intact.

  Her face scrunched up in a nasty look. Did they have to scuttle all three hundred dreadnoughts before they surrendered? It seemed like such an awful waste to her. There was so much about this species that she didn’t understand.

  They couldn’t make much use of the planet, either. For one thing, debris from the battle was raining down constantly, and would continue to do so until they managed to organize a clean-up detail for all that space-junk. Cao knew from experience how long that could take. Repairs for the New Tianjin shipyard hadn’t even begun, and that attack happened months ago!

  The chopsticks in her left hand snapped and the piece of pork she was holding fell to the floor.

  Damn it!

  She took a deep breath. That was unbecoming. Letting her anger get the better of her wasn’t how she became Chairwoman of the People’s Central Committee, after all.

  Still, it was just so frustrating. The budget never held any mystery for her. She’d always been good with numbers and figuring out the optimal allocation of resources was her best talent. Every initiative that had kept them in the war: the decentralization of production, the Fabian strategy, the dark research budget, these were all her doing. Why couldn’t things get done faster? It was one of the mysteries of the universe.

  Oh, well. She dismissed the after action report on her screen and summoned her personal schedule.

  “Let’s see, let’s see,” she muttered. “Ah, Wu wants a word, Montjoie too. That’s an hour from now, but I’d like to get this out of the way.”

  She sent Wu a message over the Great Hall’s intranet. “You free now?”

  “Yes,” came the reply.

  “I’m ready for our meeting when you are.”

  Mr. Wu was a smart man who understood the value of time, and didn’t keep her waiting long. He’d been most useful in keeping track of their special projects, and was a valuable subordinate to have on the Central Committee. If he thought she needed to hear something then it was sure to be important.

  “Come in Wu, I was just having lunch. Would you like something?” she asked as she buzzed him in.

  “Thank you, no, Chairwoman, I’ve already eaten,” he said, sitting down in front of her. “You’ve read the report?”

  “Yes, what about it?”

  “Then you know about our problem.”

  “Which one? You mean the debris field?”

  Wu stroked his chin whiskers. “That is a problem, but in time we can make it go away. I’m afraid we’re stuck with billions of Kuei’tang civilians left on Chengdu. What’s to be done with them?”

  “The terms of surrender stated their civilians residing on liberated worlds would be left unmolested until a final peace treaty with their species was signed, which presumably would have articles dictating their repatriation. I suppose we can allow Montjoie and his like to study them in the meantime. It seems simple enough to me.

  “How did Marshal Lü get them to surrender, anyway? The report said the fire from the captured icebe
rg guns was ultimately ineffective against dreadnought-sized targets.”

  “He captured the king,” Wu replied.

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Cao said.

  Wu smiled. “There was an ancient game on the old home world, the object of which was to capture the king. I’ve played it with the Marshal before. He’s quite good at it. The concentration at grid N-7 was an elaborate diversion. Once the Enemy fully committed there Lü used his elite guard to capture two males: one adult and the father of most of the people on the planet, and one juvenile. He held them hostage until the Kuei’tang surrendered. This was kept out of the official report because we don’t want any record of this strategy. We might be able to use it again if the Enemy is unprepared.”

  Cao was thunderstruck. “Billions submitted to us to save the lives of two males? What kind of backwards society is this?”

  “Chairwoman, you’re forgetting they aren’t like us, where both genders are capable of fulfilling most social functions. Kuei’tang males are almost impossibly rare. A planet of billions only had two! If they lost them then they’d die out in a generation.”

  Cao hadn’t considered that. “And we’re holding these two males securely?” she asked pointedly.

  “The highest. Only the most politically reliable even know about this. Speaking of which, we need to discuss the Mei.”

  “What about them?”

  “This will be the first year our Naval Academy’s graduating class will include Mei. We’ve let them serve as officers in the Marines Corps and as enlisted technicians aboard our ships, but this is going to change things. The drive to replace our losses quickly will see Mei placed in higher positions than they’ve ever held, with rapid advancement. This is almost certain to escalate their social demands.”

  Cao waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not worried about that. Once the fleet is rebuilt I intend to start reclaiming lost worlds. They want land, and there will be plenty to go around soon enough.”

  Wu narrowed his eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t share your optimism.”

  “Mei issues are simple, Wu. They want off the Tiandao, those floating city deathtraps we use to mine xinium, and I don’t blame them. We let the rich ones buy property on inner colony worlds, and hardly ever have any trouble with them. Mei extremism will fade once they have real planets to call their own.”