The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  Assuming they survived the crash, of course.

  “You heard the captain,” Hannan barked. “Edwards, you’re going to be the first out. I’ll bring up the rear.”

  Nolan’s head snapped forward, his helmet slapping into the view screen. The mech strained against the straps keeping it in the bay, until those straps finally snapped. Nolan’s mech tumbled forward, and he struggled in vain to catch hold of anything to halt his fall.

  The bay spun wildly, finally stopping as the ship slammed into something. Nolan tumbled the length of the mech bay, finally stopping against the rear hatch. Several yellow lights flared on the view screen, but all critical systems were, miraculously, intact.

  “Everyone still with us?” Nolan asked over the comm.

  “Here sir.” Edwards had managed to stay in his mech bay, and was extracting himself from a tangle of wires.

  Hannan voice crackled over the com. “I’m a little battered, but good to go, sir. My reactor is leaking heat, but I can probably lock it down if we get somewhere safe enough to affect repairs.”

  “Noted. We’re going to be walking into one of those rust storms, so we won’t be able to see shit. Stay within visual range. We can’t afford to get separated.” Nolan guided the mech back to its feet, resting a metal hand against the hatch. “Kay, are you still with us?”

  “Yes, Captain. The Peregrine is in bad shape, I’m afraid. She won’t fly again without extensive repairs.” Kay’s voice managed to convey sadness, a testament to Kathryn’s work on the synthetic core.

  “Download your primary matrix into my mech’s core,” Nolan ordered. “We’re not leaving you for them to find.” He planted both metal hands on the manual release lever, thankful for the mech’s increased strength. There was no way a person could have opened the hatch.

  “Thank you, Captain.” Kay’s voice was full of gratitude. “I’m transferring my primary functions to your mech’s core. It will override the existing operating system.”

  “That’s fine. You’re capable of doing everything it can, and we can’t afford to let the enemy get their hands on you. You can tell them everything about our military. Besides, I like having you around.” Nolan kept his tone light, though he found it odd to be bantering with a virtual intelligence like he would have her flesh-and-blood counterpart.

  He tugged on the release lever, and the Peregrine’s hatch groaned reluctantly open. The wind outside howled, filling the mech bay with a thick cloud of orange-brown rust. The hatch ground to a halt three feet before it should have, but the opening was enough to squeeze through.

  “Let’s move, people. I’m really not looking forward to meeting the locals.”

  9

  Decisions

  Fizgig studied the view screen, watching as the enemy fleet moved to encircle hers. They were stronger, more numerous, and on their own territory. They held every advantage—every advantage except one.

  They’d never faced the Tigris, made even more potent by the addition of their human allies.

  At every turn, the Void Wraith had outnumbered and outgunned them, yet in the end Tigris ingenuity had won them that war. Well, the humans had helped, of course—but it had been a Tigris paw that had delivered the killing shot to the giant eye, whose corpse still orbited the humans’ home world.

  “Order the fleet to maneuver within three hundred meters of each other,” Fizgig commanded.

  Juliard relayed her orders, and the fleet tightened into formation.

  “Move alongside the enemy hull, over the area where Khar’s squadron cleared the cannons.”

  The fleet moved seamlessly toward the enemy, the ship looming across the entire view screen. The midnight vessel was even larger than the few Primo carriers still in service.

  Fizgig planned to use their size against them. Normally, in space, you had to be concerned with attacks from every direction. Enemies could adjust their attitude to attack wherever you were weak, probing your defenses from all directions. It was something many terrestrial commanders were unprepared for, since they thought in the more linear way afforded by fighting on a planet with gravity. In space, there was no up.

  She was recapturing that advantage, forcing the enemy to come at her through controlled channels. They had to maneuver around their own ship, coming at her in a trickle instead of a flood. If they didn’t take great care with their attacks, they’d likely inflict as much damage on their own ship as they did on her.

  Eventually the other enemy capital ships would circle around to get a clear shot, but Fizgig had until then to make her escape.

  “Khar, I have more work for you. After the next volley, I want you to pierce their shields again. Continue your work with the enemy cannons, this time on the port side of the hull. We’ll rotate the fleet around them, using their ship for cover.”

  The Mendez fired another volley, and the other ships followed suit. They couldn’t destroy the juggernaut, but they weakened the shields long enough for Khar’s squadron to pierce them. The booster mechs screamed along the hull, picking off cannon after cannon. Now that the enemy’s fighters had been dealt with, Khar had free reign to destroy. For the moment, at least.

  Above, Fizgig could see another spidery capital ship creeping into view, seconds from lining up a kill shot on her ship. Behind it, she spotted two similar vessels, also getting into position to fire.

  “Adjust course heading to oh nine five,” Fizgig ordered.

  The fleet moved, creeping along the length of the giant vessel. They used its massive limbs as cover, breaking line of sight with the enemy capital ships. Their greater maneuverability served them well, but it was merely a stalling tactic. Unless she got them out of there, eventually they’d be surrounded.

  Fizgig considered the situation carefully. To escape, they must reach the sun. Their cloaking was effective, but many vessels had suffered damage and couldn’t cloak. Their only way out was to run, and pray to the goddess that some of them made it. All she could do was maximize their odds.

  “Complete one more revolution along the hull,” she ordered. “Slow our progress by twenty percent.” Her fleet slowed, and the enemy began to narrow the gap.

  She judged their progress, smiling grimly. They’d think they were catching up, and that might make them too eager. The dark vessels swarmed closer. Below them the planet loomed, an angry red-brown sea of rust.

  Once the enemy fleet had committed, Fizgig turned to Juliard. “Accelerate to maximum. Order all vessels to make for the Helios Gate.”

  They rose from the enemy dreadnought, interposing it between them and the enemy fleet, and struggled to get around the behemoth. Missiles and plasma streaked in their direction.

  “Starburst pattern.”

  Her fleet broke away, each vessel getting as far from the others as possible. Since they were all Helios-capable, there was no reason they needed to stay together. Those capable of cloaking did so, shimmering from both visibility and sensors. The rest pushed for the sun at full speed, the frigates quickly outpacing a wounded destroyer.

  The enemy fleet began to accelerate as well, but their vessels were ponderously slow. Fizgig’s fleet crept toward the sun, while the enemy fell steadily behind.

  “Sir, the Tigrana’s Grace has lost two engines,” Juliard said. “She’s now within the enemy’s range.” Her face had gone ashen, and her eyes were fixed on the view screen.

  Fizgig forced herself to watch as well.

  One of the enemy’s main cannons warmed up, and a sharp red beam lanced into the fleet. A frigate was sliced in half, and the beam continued into the wounded Tigrana’s Grace.

  The destroyer detonated a moment later, killing over two hundred men and women.

  A flurry of similar beams lanced out, catching the wounded frigate and one of its companions. Frantic cries came over the comm in fragments, until Juliard quietly shut it off.

  The price was bitter, yet the rest of them had nearly reached the sun. The enemy vessels broke off their pursuit, falling back t
o their world.

  Fizgig closed her eyes. She couldn’t ever remember being this tired. She’d lost nearly a third of her fleet, without inflicting a single loss on her enemy.

  “Make for the Helios Gate. I want a secure connection to President Dryker the moment we emerge.”

  10

  Krekon

  Takkar’s fur had settled to a deep red-black. He paced the length of the dais at the center of his command island, the full majesty of his dreadnought stretching into the distance. Hundreds of islands rotated slowly beneath him in various sizes and shapes. None were as large or opulent as his cluster, yet today that did nothing to sooth his ire.

  Above, the entire hull appeared to lie open to space, thanks to the techsmiths and their illusions. A sea of stars, broken only by the orange-brown glow of the planet below and the white-yellow star in the distance.

  The blackness should also contain the enemy fleet, but those who’d survived the fury of his dreadnoughts had somehow vanished from sight.

  He crooked a furry finger, and the Saurian techsmith approached. She wore her grey robes like armor, trying to hide from sight while still performing her duties, and clutched her arcanotome to her chest like a talisman against Ganog rage.

  “How long until their ships are too close to the sun for us to pursue?”

  “F-fourteen seconds, Clan Leader.” The Saurian quivered, giving off the musky reek of fear, powerful enough that Takkar’s lower nostrils closed reflexively. “We are unlikely to inflict further casualties, unless we wish to sacrifice vessels to the sun.”

  “No,” he snarled. “Order the fleet to break off.” He smashed a fist into one of the pylons bordering the dais, and silver sparks shot into the air. His fur lightened to red, and he felt marginally better. “Get me Krekon. Now.”

  “Clan Leader, he is hunting on the planet’s surface,” the Saurian protested.

  Takkar merely looked at her, and she wilted.

  “At once, Clan Leader.” She closed her eyes, and a furious flow of purple pulses moved from her temple to the arcanotome.

  The air before them warped and spun, growing hazy and indistinct. Takkar hated the way his eyes slid off the warped space, and forced himself to stare at it. The warping accelerated; the air brightened.

  Finally it ceased, coalescing into an irate Ganog.

  Krekon’s fur faded to a steely grey, and his eyes narrowed. He held a wicked axe loosely in one hand; the end of that axe was caked with ash and a slick black substance Takkar guessed must be blood. His scarlet armor was scored, but only from the storm. No enemy blade had found Krekon.

  They rarely did, which was why Takkar valued him so highly.

  Krekon glanced around the island, taking in Takkar and the dais. Takkar knew from experience how disorienting warp could be, especially when that warp came as a surprise.

  “Why have you ripped me from the hunt?” Krekon demanded, taking a threatening step toward the dais. “I nearly had them. I—”

  Takkar’s foot lanced out, connecting with Krekon’s jaw. The warrior was flung back, sliding across the ivory metal floor. He rose, wiping blood from his face. It matted in his fur, already clotting.

  “I grant you much latitude, Krekon. More than any other servant.” Takkar took a step as well, looming over the larger Ganog. If it came to a battle, he doubted he could best Krekon. Thankfully, Krekon knew his place. “You are the vassal, and I the lord. Never forget that. Some slights are too great to ignore. You are my best hunter, but if need be I will eat your heart and leave your body in the hot sun for the ka’tok to fight over.”

  “Apologies, Clan Leader. I was tracking these strange aliens, and I nearly had them.” Krekon lowered his eyes. His tone now carried the proper deference, and his fur shifted from deep red to soft brown. “I slew their leader and most of their soldiers. A handful escaped.”

  “You will have time to hunt them. Look,” Takkar roared, stabbing a clawed finger toward the sun. “Our prey escapes.”

  “I do not understand.” Krekon stared curiously toward the sun. “I see no ships, but even if I did they’d be flying to their deaths.”

  “Techsmith.” Takkar seized the Saurian by the neck, hoisting her into the air. “Explain to him how they warp.”

  She struggled, eyes bulging as she gasped out words. “We interrogated one of their leader caste. They utilize something called a Helios Gate to warp between systems. Everything my order knows suggests that’s impossible. A sun is simply too dense to be penetrated, yet somehow they utilize it as a power source.”

  “So they can fly into a sun and survive?” Krekon’s tone was skeptical.

  “The proof is before us. Our ships have already broken off, yet the few vessels we can even see continue toward the sun. What’s more, they emerged from the sun before beginning their assault on the planet.” Takkar’s fur blackened again. “That isn’t why I called you here—their cowardly tactics are. They disabled the Vkash’s Fist, then used it as cover to escape.”

  “They disabled a dreadnought?” Krekon’s shock was total. “Nothing can disable a dreadnought, except a planetstrider.”

  “Yet they managed it. Their tactics were as cowardly as they were infuriating. They used the Vkash’s Fist as a shield to block our ships. They are smaller and lighter, and their maneuverability made catching them all but impossible.”

  “What of our smaller ships? Why didn’t we run them down with fighters? You could launch a cloud that would draw the gaze of the Nameless Ones.”

  “You do not think we tried?” Takkar growled. “We launched a full wing, but they cut through wave after wave whenever we tried to pin them. Their capital ships blew them apart, and I called off the assault. We destroyed vessels as they tried to escape, but nothing larger than a cruiser. Their battleship escaped, with over half the fleet.”

  “This commander is much more formidable than the last we encountered.” Krekon’s fur drifted into a dark green. “Is that why you’ve called me here? You wish me to hunt this commander?”

  “No,” Takkar countered. He stared at the planet hovering above them. “I called you here because I want his warriors alive. They are to be interrogated.”

  “But they are less than ka’tok. They are food for my offspring. Warriors, not leaders.” Krekon’s fur darkened to a disrespectful red-black.

  “Take care, hunter. Remember your place. Remember that they do not have castes, not as we do. Their warriors are their leaders.”

  “Apologies, Clan Leader.” Krekon said again. He bowed his head, but his fur only lightened half a shade. “I will identify the leader of the survivors, and I will bring him to you. Yet his warriors will not come willingly, and I cannot spare them all. Some may die.”

  “As long as the leader survives. Bring him to me. Soon, Krekon, or you will know my displeasure.”

  Takkar waved at the techsmith. She stared blankly for a moment, but then finally grasped his need. Her eyes closed again, and pulses flowed to the her arcanotome. The air around Krekon warped, and he disappeared with a painful pop, leaving Takkar in blessed silence.

  This enemy commander infuriated him. Whoever it was, he was canny, patient, and able to exploit a desperate situation to his own advantage. No species had previously been able to disable a dreadnought, and that meant that this Coalition of Unified Races was indeed formidable. They needed to be enslaved; their might must be added to the Vkash Clan.

  It had been long years since he’d been excited about a campaign, but this one drew him like a flame.

  “I will make war such as this commander has never seen, and he will beg for death before the end.”

  11

  Aluki

  Annie awakened by degrees. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and it was dark. She tried to move, then groggily realized she was still strapped into her mech.

  “Must have gone on standby. How long have I been out?”

  She keyed the activation code using the right gauntlet, and the reactor rumbled
reluctantly to life. Her screen flickered, then lit. A spiderweb of cracks radiated from the bottom corner, turning the graphs there into multicolored mush. The 3D model representing the mech showed red on everything below the waist. That was bad; it meant both legs were non-functional.

  “Gonna be awfully difficult to run away without legs.”

  Something tapped on the cockpit from the outside. Annie blinked, her heartbeat quickening. Maybe the squad had found her? She activated the external camera, focusing on the figure right outside.

  The screen showed mostly darkness, and it looked like her mech had fallen on its face. A large piece of metal had pinned her against a girder, but that same sheet of metal might have saved her life when the wave of energy had torn apart the ships she’d been guarding.

  The camera finally focused, showing a strange little critter. It was a little taller than a meter, with a stocky body and short, stubby arms. The round head reminded Annie a bit of the animated whale she’d loved as a child. Whatever the thing was, it was wearing the strangest damned suit she’d ever seen. It was milky blue, and covered the thing’s entire body. Only the back of the head was uncovered, and Annie could see what appeared to be…a blowhole?

  Inside the suit was some sort of fluid, coating the alien’s body.

  “What in the galaxy are you?” Annie asked, her speakers broadcasting the words.

  The creature jumped, scrambling backward as it blinked up at the screen. The critter rattled off a stream of gibberish, pointing frantically at something outside Annie’s field of view.

  “I’m guessing you want me to come with you. Not sure if that’s a good idea, but it’s probably smarter than hanging out here waiting for those ape things to show up,” Annie muttered. She tapped the exit sequence, and the hydraulics ground as the mech fought to open the cockpit.