by Chris Fox
“Kay, get the ship running,” Nolan ordered. “Hot-fire it. We need to get out of here now.” He sprinted up the open hatchway, guiding his mech into the stall. Hannan and Edwards came in on his heels, moving to their respective bays.
“Done, Captain,” Kay said. “The engines were still warm from our arrival. I can have us airborne in twelve seconds. Shall I open a channel to the fleet?”
“Do that. Hopefully your transmitter is powerful enough to punch through their jamming.” Nolan brought up the data from the Peregrine’s sensors, and watched as the battle outside filled his screen.
The apes had pinned Alpha Company inside the museum he’d passed. Another rust storm had started, still light but growing heavier. The ship shook as one of the monstrosities took another step. It was going to line up a shot on the museum.
“Reval,” Nolan said, “you need to get your people out of there. You might be able to use the storm as cover. That thing will be in position to fire soon.”
“Acknowledged.” Reval’s voice crackled, fighting the jamming. “Don’t worry about us. Get airborne, and get word back to the admiral.”
The engines rumbled to life, and the Peregrine lifted off.
6
Invasion
“Admiral, we’re picking up a massive energy surge from the station,” Juliard called.
“Magnify,” Fizgig ordered. The view screen zoomed in to show the spider-like station. The light between the spires was growing by the moment, a sharp purple with blazing white at the center.
Then space ruptured and tore, and a hole appeared between the spires. Ships—dozens of them—began to emerge through that hole. Most were smaller cruisers, backed by an arachnid ship that might be destroyer class.
The ships were black, with purplish light leaking from reactors, and organic looking—though Fizgig hoped that was merely appearance.
Behind the destroyers came a handful of larger capital ships, bristling with weaponry. Each had a main cannon embedded down the ship’s mainline and dozens of smaller turrets to repel assaults by fighters, corvettes, or frigates. The entire top of each of the capital ships was covered in a sleek canopy that somehow left the ship looking like a one-eyed spider.
The enemy fleet flowed from the station toward the planet, directly over the city where her forces had engaged the enemy. She didn’t know how the ground team was faring, but it wouldn’t matter if that fleet reached them.
“Plot a course to the enemy’s rear. I want all ships to engage the rear capital ship—it’s lagging a little behind the others. Have Khar scramble his booster mechs. I want them in the fray by the time we reach our target.”
Techs bent to their terminals, a flurry of orders rippling out to the fleet. Her corvettes and one of her cruisers were on the ground, but Fizgig had two destroyers, three cruisers, and six frigates. The Mendez, the flagship of the Coalition of United Races, was the only capital ship. It boasted Primo tech bolstered by human and Tigris engineering.
The vessel had been designed to run with six crew, despite being large enough to accommodate up to twenty-eight hundred. The ship was all but automated, kept repaired and running by a small fleet of mechanized drones. Given the diminished populations of all three member races, the Coalition’s R&D department had made the right decision.
The Mendez was truly impressive, and had she been battling Void Wraith, Fizgig would have approached confidently. But this was an entirely new species. Who knew what they were capable of? That was why she was committing her entire force to attacking a single enemy vessel: she wanted to be certain she destroyed it, and that meant overwhelming force.
Khar’s squadron of mechs flowed out of the hangar like shrike bats, dozens of them fanning out to engulf the enemy ship. The booster mechs moved nearly as fast as Tigris darts, and had many advantages that darts did not. They had much greater maneuverability and nearly as much speed, and because they were mechs they were adaptable to nearly any type of combat.
After each mech exited her vessel they engaged their cloaking, fading from sight. Thus far, it appeared the enemy hadn’t detected them.
“Admiral,” Juliard called, “all ships have firing solutions.”
“Fire at will.” Fizgig dug her claws into her cushion, her slitted eyes fixed on the view screen. They would learn something vital in these next few seconds.
A barrage of missiles, gauss cannons, and particle blasts shot from the fleet, converging on the enemy capital ship’s rightmost engine. The particle cannon volley reached it first, exposing an energy field that rippled into view as the assault struck. The area around the impacts went from a soft blue to a bright red as it blocked the barrage.
Then the missiles began to hit. The first few volleys detonated on the shield, but the last streaked into the unprotected engine. It was surprisingly sturdy, but finally sputtered out after the last few impacts.
Had that same volley been leveled at her ship, Fizgig thought, there would be nothing left but debris.
“Khar, get inside that shield. Disable their main cannon before they can turn it on our fleet.” She tapped a button on the arm of her chair, and the screen pulled back to show the entire enemy fleet.
They’d already begun to adjust their attitude. They recognized her vessel as having command, and were moving to encircle her. The enemy fleet was roughly three times the size of her own, and—if the single exchange was any indication—they were also more advanced.
“Admiral,” the same tech called, refusing to meet her gaze, “Captain Khet is suggesting we flee.”
“Running means abandoning our ground team. Order all vessels to move in close to the capital ship we just damaged. Assuming Khar can disable the cannon, we’ll use it as cover, protecting us from the other capital ships.” That would buy them time—but only a little. They’d still need to deal with the enemy’s smaller ships. “Khar, after you finish the main gun, eliminate all surface cannons on the aft side. We cannot allow this behemoth to fire at us point blank.”
A flood of shimmering specks pushed through the gaps in the enemy shields, drawing a smile from Fizgig.
Khar would show the enemy that her fleet had teeth.
7
Khar
“Yes, Mighty Fizgig,” Khar boomed into the comm.
His synthetic voice was nearly identical to the one he’d been born with—just one more well-crafted detail the designers had thought of. In many ways he still felt Tigris, and he certainly still looked it.
A scan would reveal otherwise, of course. Khar’s nervous system had been fitted into a core, which inserted into a cube-shaped slot between his shoulder blades.
“It’s Admiral now, Khar. We are in a new military. We must adapt to new ways.” Fizgig’s scolding held no real heat.
Khar tapped the stirrups with his feet, feathering the booster mech’s thrusters. The motion lined him up with the rippling gap in the shield over the enemy vessel. He fired the larger booster mounted to the mech’s back, shooting through the gap toward the dark surface of the enemy ship.
The mech’s view screen was masterfully designed, showing everything from target distance to how many missiles Khar had remaining. A holographic window popped up, showing an unknown chemical composition.
“I do not know what material this ship is forged from,” Khar said, “but it is more dense than our own armor. All units, focus your fire on the assembly connected to the aft side of the cannon.”
His men responded instantly, winging their mechs toward the new target.
Khar thumbed his missiles, sending a spray of six toward the target. They detonated, the explosions made tiny by the truly massive cannon. His weapons inflicted no visible damage. Other missiles impacted, then there was a flurry of particle cannon shots.
No visible effect.
“Mighty Khar,” Pawna growled into the comm. “The enemy has dispatched fighters. They travel in groups of three. Based on their current trajectory, they will reach us in less than sixty seconds.”
Dodging a scarlet blast from a nearby turret, Khar considered the dilemma. Dozens of similar turrets were struggling vainly to pick off his squadron, but they were clearly designed to deal with larger targets.
“Focus on the smaller turrets on the aft side,” Khar ordered, banking his mech behind one of them. He fired his particle cannon at the base, wave after wave of blue pulses lancing into the dark metal. It began to glow and smolder, even as the top of the cannon swiveled in his direction. “Keep behind them. It looks like the base of the turret is vulnerable, and our particle cannons can destroy them.”
Khar finally hit something sensitive in the base of the turret, and a sharp scarlet welled up in the sides. The weapon misfired, destroying itself in a spectacular explosion.
Khar’s HUD showed the enemy fighters now, nearly upon him. He zipped into a tight turn, banking in a way that would have made him black out, were he flesh and blood. His synthetic body allowed him to do things he’d never have dreamed of back when he was merely a Tigris, and today it appeared he would need access to all of those abilities.
All around him, his fighters savaged the turrets and cannons, but there were so many of them. He didn’t know what they were made of, but it took an obscene amount of damage to render them inoperable. He only had so much ordnance.
And there was still the matter of the main cannon.
Even as he thought it, the entire ship began to glow. Scarlet brilliance lanced from the main cannon, slamming into the Perihelion, a medium-sized human cruiser that had been refitted after the war with the Void Wraith. In the wake of the enemy weapon, the vessel simply ceased to exist, becoming nothing more than an afterimage.
Khar extended the mech’s right hand, and a three-meter plasma blade hummed to life. He dropped toward another turret, ramming the blade through the base. He carved a savage path, much more quickly than he’d managed with the particle cannon. Behind him, a turret began to turn. Khar darted forward, ducking behind the turret he’d been attacking. The second turret fired, a scarlet beam punching into the turret Khar was using for cover. The resulting explosion bounced him off the deck, and back into the air.
Warning lights flared on his HUD, showing damage to his right thruster. He’d lost armor over the right leg and the waist. Khar smiled and flew down to a turret, landing on top of it. He waited for the chime of an enemy lock to sound through the cockpit, then kicked off his perch. A moment later, enemy fire hit that position, obliterating the turret he’d been standing on.
Then there was no more time for antics. Enemy fighters screamed by overhead, each trio of arachnid ships homing in on one of Khar’s squadron. His mechs were outnumbered, but fighting against the Void Wraith had taught him that few combat situations were ideal.
On the plus side, the enemy turrets had begun firing much less often once their own fighters arrived. That meant it was a straight fight between warriors.
“Break into your assigned pairs,” he roared. “Go offensive. Teach these poor fools of the Tigris. Teach them of death.”
Khar dropped to the deck, hugging the surface of the enemy ship as he zoomed past turrets and trenches. One of the enemy fighters dropped into line behind him, firing a single coherent beam. The shot narrowly missed Khar’s right arm, scoring the hull of the vessel below.
He flipped his mech so he was facing his enemies, then fired all thrusters. His sudden momentum carried him toward the enemy, and their beams all passed well beneath him. Khar thumbed his missile release, using a full volley of twelve. They engulfed the first vessel, which made no move to avoid them.
The explosions didn’t tear the ship apart, but they did alter its course. The vessel careened into its wingman, which knocked both into the dreadnought below.
The first fighter detonated, sending out a cloud of superheated debris. Khar was already past it, turning for another strafing run. The pair of surviving fighters were struggling to come around.
“They’re slower than us, and a lot less maneuverable—but they’re tough. Stay mobile, and only take shots you know you can hit. We have the advantage, if we’re careful.”
Khar kicked out his legs, firing both thrusters to bleed his momentum. The enemy fighters shot toward him, and Khar stretched out a metallic hand to grab the corner of his opponent’s wing as it zipped by. The heavier fighter shook as Khar swung himself onto it, but he tightened his grip and used his legs to straddle the canopy.
He couldn’t see inside, but he didn’t really need to. He plunged his crackling plasma blade into the strange dark metal. Sparks shot off, but the weapon barely scored the hull.
The fighter dove suddenly, twisting toward a tower. Khar realized what it was trying to do: put him in a direct line of sight of the tower. He fired all thrusters, dragging the fighter into the path of the cannon. The cannon fired, and the ship he was riding became a rapidly expanding fireball. Khar rode that fireball into the air as an idea began to form.
“We must use their technology against them. Get the turrets to fire on their fighters. Use their size and ferocity against them.” Khar righted his course, looking for his next target.
Many of the turrets on the aft side had been destroyed, providing Fizgig’s fleet with cover. Unfortunately, the cannon was still the major issue. It fired once every forty seconds, and every time it loosed another blast, one of their ships ceased to exist.
“Mighty Khar, honor my name,” Pawna’s solemn voice echoed over the calm.
Khar pivoted his mech, straining to catch sight of Pawna. Fear rippled through him when he saw what his companion was attempting. Pawna was riding a damaged enemy fighter, aimed directly at the assembly they’d tried to destroy earlier. The cannon began to warm, the whole vessel vibrating as it prepared to kill another of Fizgig’s vessels.
Khar winced as Pawna impacted with the assembly, and both he and the enemy fighter detonated. When the flames cleared, the assembly was nothing more than melted slag. The energy in the cannon continued to build. And build. And build.
“Get clear,” Khar roared. “All vessels, retreat to the Mendez.”
Mechs fought to disengage, rising from the enemy vessel in a cloud. Just in time. The cannon detonated, flinging millions of tons of shrapnel in all directions. Khar experienced brief elation, but it faded when he realized that the enemy ship was still intact.
What did it take to kill these things?
8
Shot Down
The Peregrine zipped between rusted spires, dodging a hail of plasma from the trio of pursuing fighters. Nolan watched the feed from his cockpit, wincing as a scarlet blast scored the hull above the engine.
“Captain.” Kay spoke from his mech’s speakers. “I’ve established a connection to the flag ship. The admiral is on the line.”
“Admiral, this is Captain Nolan. Things are bad down here.”
His stomach lurched as Kay guided the ship into a tight dive, then came up short as the enemy’s mountain-sized creature fired again.
The lumbering reptile aimed its cannon at the city—a city teeming with local citizens. A subsonic hum built, one that Nolan could hear clearly, even inside his mech. The weapon’s discharge vaporized several city blocks, and a billowing cloud of flame expanded around them. He could feel the ship rattle from the force of the explosion.
“Acknowledged, Nolan. Can you make it back to the fleet?” Fizgig’s voice was calm, but Nolan knew her well enough to know she was agitated.
“Negative. If we go airborne, we’re going to have to deal with those fighters—not to mention these giant mech-creatures. I’m broadcasting all sensor data so you have something to work with.”
“If you can make low orbit, I’ll detach Khar’s squadron, and have him escort you back.”
“Negative, sir,” Nolan countered. The reptile was lining up another shot, and Nolan’s hands tightened instinctively on the mech’s controls. He hated being this powerless. “There’s no way we can break orbit, and you’re going to lose a lot of men trying.
Major Reval is cut off, presumed dead. All other ships have been destroyed, and it’s unlikely we’ll survive either. Take the data and get the hell out of here.”
There was a long moment of silence, then Fizgig spoke again. “I order you to survive, Nolan. Find a way to live. Go to ground, and use these storms as cover.”
Nolan knew how unlikely their survival was, but he also had a duty to try. “I’m not sure that’s possible, sir, but we’ll do our best.”
“Do it. We need data on these new enemies. You’re going to get us that data. Stay alive, learn all you can, and be ready for our return. We will come for you, Nolan, and we will have vengeance on this new enemy.” Fizgig’s voice quavered in a way Nolan had never heard before. She rarely showed emotion.
“Acknowledged, sir. We’ll find a way.”
The ship shuddered as something impacted against one of the engines. Their momentum slowed, though they were still flying.
“Captain,” Kay said, “we’ve lost the aft engine. Thrust reduced to 47%. The fighters are gaining on us.”
“Kay, there’s a gathering storm about half a click south. I want you to take the ship in. Fly low, and use the buildings for cover.” It wasn’t much of a chance, but it was possible they could survive in that storm. If they crashed, it would take the enemy time to find them—assuming their sensors were blind, too.
If not, this was going to be a very short chase.
The ship lurched again, then accelerated violently forward. Warning klaxons sounded from the mech bay, and the ship began a continuous shudder.
“Captain, we’ve lost all engines. That last shot was close enough to do catastrophic damage. I’ve adjusted our course to take us into the storm, as requested. I recommend preparing for impact.”
“Heads up, Delta Squad. We’re coming in hard. Strap yourself in as best you can, and be ready to evacuate the second we touch down.”
