by Chris Fox
“It will not hold my weight, but I’m working around it. If you’d like, I can stay on comms, Captain.”
“Please do,” Nolan affirmed. Above him, the hatch door swung open and Lena began climbing inside. “I’m sending you footage from my helmet. As you can see, we’re entering the hatch.”
“Noted, Captain.” Nolan could hear the strain in the Ganog’s voice.
Nolan followed Lena into a narrow corridor, which widened as it sloped steeply upward. He moved to the side, snapping his rifle to his shoulder as he waited for Hannan to enter the room. She climbed in a few moments later, immediately getting to her feet and getting her rifle ready.
“Hannan, take point,” Nolan ordered. “Lena, you’re in the rear. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. You’re our best chance of shutting this thing down.”
Hannan started up the corridor, and he followed.
“T’kon, what kind of resistance are we likely to encounter?”
“You will face techsmiths—no true threat. However, they are in a fortified position, and will die before letting you take them. Do not underestimate them.”
Nolan stumbled, catching himself against the deck as the planetstrider shifted violently. It fired again, this time at the city itself. “T’kon, any idea why they’ve changed targets?”
“I can guess. It looks like Krekon’s cruiser just took off, and is circling toward the Khalist mountains. They’re safe for now, but when they break for orbit, they’ll be an unavoidable target.”
“Then we need to hurry.” Nolan hurried up the corridor.
“Contact,” Hannan bellowed. She dropped to one knee, firing a burst of superheated particles up the hall.
Nolan went prone, sighting down his barrel. A grey-robed Saurian squeezed off a shot from a plasma pistol, the energy splashing the deck several feet to Nolan’s right. Nolan returned fire, taking the Saurian in the chest. He fired two more times, walking his fire down the body. The Saurian went down with a screech, and the stink of cooked meat filled the corridor.
“Fire in the hole.” Hannan hucked a grenade up the corridor, her aim impeccable. The grenade bounced off the wall, landing on the corpse of the Saurian he’d shot.
Nolan ducked, covering his head. Shrapnel pinged off his armor, but he was far enough away that it did no real damage. He rounded on Hannan. “What if you’d missed? That grenade would have rolled right down to Lena.”
“Good thing I didn’t miss.” Hannan said. Nolan could hear the smile in her voice, though he couldn’t see her face through the helmet. “You may have been exiled to the 14th, but I was bred there, sir. You know I’ll always be a little rough around the edges.”
“Good thing you weren’t using a plasma grenade,” Nolan muttered. “Lena, wait for an all clear before you follow us up that ladder.”
“Yes, sir,” Lena called from below. “I closed the door, but anyone with the code will still be able to follow us.”
“That’s why we’re going to be quick,” Nolan said, hurrying after Hannan. She was already mounting the ladder that disappeared above.
“Captain,” T’kon said, “you’re ascending into the control unit above the head. There’s no other way in or out, so the remaining techsmiths will make their stand there. Be careful.”
“Acknowledged. They’re cornered and will fight like hell. You doing okay out there?”
“For the moment. I don’t see any pursuit yet, but squadrons have been deployed. They’ll be coming for you soon. I’ll alert you when they dock.” T’kon no longer sounded like he was gritting his teeth; he must have taken some sort of painkiller.
A burst of plasma melted the top rung, forcing Hannan to retreat a pace. She yanked her rifle from her shoulder, aiming it one-handed. It flashed, and a grey-robed Saurian tumbled past. Nolan ducked out of the path. Lena did the same, and the body hit the deck with a thud.
Hannan disappeared into the room above, so Nolan poured on the speed. He heard plasma shots, then a very human scream.
“Hannan!” Nolan roared. He pulled his rifle from his shoulder, popping his head and shoulders up into the chamber. A Saurian had its pistol raised, but it was aiming at a target behind Nolan. He opened up, catching the Saurian in the chest. It stumbled backward into a bank of terminals beneath some kind of viewport.
Another Saurian leapt from behind a panel on the far side of the narrow room, aiming for Nolan. A rifle barked behind him, and the Saurian dropped.
“I’ve been hit, sir,” Hannan croaked. Nolan spun to face her, relaxing when he saw she was okay. She’d been hit in the chest, and the armor was smoked and blackened. But it had held. “Think that was the last of them.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Nolan said, leaning against the wall as he caught his breath. “Four personnel to guard their most powerful war machine? That’s ludicrous.”
“Again, you must understand our culture,” T’kon said. “It is unthinkable to attempt to steal a planetstrider. Doing so goes against the scriptures of the Nameless Ones. It is heresy—not to mention, logistically difficult. And for what cause? No one would destroy a planetstrider. They’d be hunted, their clan extinguished. In short, they were not expecting someone like you, Captain.”
“Yeah, well, we still have to figure out how to stop this thing from trying to kill Burke. At least it isn’t firing at the fleet any more.” Nolan helped Lena from the ladder, nodding at a pulsing blue cube. “That’s the core T’kon mentioned. See what you can figure out.”
The planetstrider paused, aiming its arm skyward. Nolan could see the cannon now, just outside the viewport. Judging from his vantage, he was sitting on this thing’s head. The cannon discharged, firing into orbit again.
“Be quick, Lena. We’ve got to stop this thing.”
53
Out of Time
Fizgig winced as another missile slammed into the Ironsides. The destroyer had already been battered by enemy fire, and this missile finally hit something vital. The Ironsides split at the middle, the halves of the ships drifting apart from each other as a staccato of detonations lit both sides. A flurry of tiny escape pods jettisoned away, but she knew only a fraction of the crew would survive.
Those survivors would only live until Fizgig’s fleet was wiped out, unless she found a way to turn the battle around. There might still be time for that.
“Direct all fire toward the closest dreadnought. Order the 2nd Fleet to warm up the theta cannons,” Fizgig ordered. She rose from the captain’s chair, walking toward the holographic battle display.
“Captain, all vessels are spooling up theta cannons. Firing.”
A flurry of brilliant stars shot toward the enemy vessel, punching into the enemy shield. The shield flickered with the first shot, a gap appearing where the theta round had impacted. A second round hit, then a third. By the fourth the shield was a thin haze, barely substantial.
“Focus all fire on their main cannon,” Fizgig snapped.
The second volley converged on the main cannon, the weapon itself as large as Fizgig’s flagship. A glowing white star shot into the base, turning the entire thing molten. A second shot hit in the same place, and a third hit the barrel. The turret detonated, sending the warped barrel careening through space. It crushed dozens of fighters, picking up speed as the planet’s gravity well took hold of it.
“Khar, destroy the smaller cannons. Concentrate your fire on the aft side. Fleet vessels, focus your fire on the engines. Conventional weaponry only. Save the theta rounds for the next capital ship.” Pride swelled in Fizgig’s breast as dozens of booster mechs winged toward the enemy vessel. They swarmed the smaller turrets like a school of fish around a shark.
The Ganog struggled to fight back, belching scarlet plasma at the approaching fighters. Khar’s mechs were simply too swift, easily avoiding the return fire. One by one, Khar’s squadron destroyed the opponent’s defenses. When their work was complete, the ship was little more than a floating transport.
The fleet moved
to encircle the vessel, but pressure increased from the other enemy capital ships. A trio of dreadnoughts fired their main cannons, and fresh wings of enemy fighters moved to engage Fizgig’s frigates and destroyers, trying to save their wounded companion before Fizgig’s fleet finished their work.
She briefly considered another salvo from the theta cannons. That would certainly destroy the enemy dreadnought, but it would also consume another fifteen percent of their ammunition. No, they had to finish this with other tools. They needed those rounds.
A streak of scarlet boiled through the atmosphere below, streaking into the sky. The shot washed over the forward bow of the Mendez, temporarily drowning the view screen in brilliant death.
“Damage report,” Fizgig demanded.
“That shot caught our stern, sir,” Juliard said, tapping furiously away on her console. “We’ve lost pressure on two decks. Response teams are evacuating crew so we can space the fires. No critical systems were damaged, but if we re-enter the sun we’re going to lose everything up to the central bulkhead.”
“We’ll worry about that later.” The view screen returned to the battle, and Fizgig went cold. Two more shots boiled out of the atmosphere. The first went wide, hitting nothing. The next shot hit the Calypso, right along the midline.
The cruiser burst apart at the seams, flinging hunks of her flaming hull in all directions. It happened too quickly for the crew to react or escape, and Fizgig closed her eyes. Eight hundred souls lost—not to mention the Calypso’s firepower. This battle was quickly spinning out of control.
“Renew fire on the wounded dreadnought,” she snapped.
The dreadnought was retreating to the rear of their ranks. The other dreadnoughts were moving to close ranks, preventing her forces from finishing their target.
She stalked back to her chair, murdering a pillow with her claws. A river of cotton shreds rained down, but they did nothing to stem her frustration. She forced a deep breath. “Shift all fire to the closest dreadnought.”
She hated letting a wounded enemy escape, but it was too late to pursue. This enemy commander was crafty, trying to bait her into taking heavy losses in order to finish off wounded prey. She wouldn’t allow that, no matter how it galled her.
They’d just keep defanging the enemy, removing their main cannons until the enemy was out of vessels. If they spent their ammo wisely, that might be possible.
“Captain, more shots from the planet,” Juliard cautioned. The fleet took evasive action, with better luck this time. The first two shots found nothing, and the third only caught a few of Khar’s fighters.
“Where the hell is Nolan?” Fizgig snarled. Time was working against them. If he didn’t make contact soon, she’d have no choice but to retreat.
54
Make a Hole
“Admiral, a ship just left the surface.” Juliard’s voice drew Fizgig from the holographic map of the battle. “It’s broadcasting a CUS beacon, but the ship’s configuration is consistent with one of the enemy’s cruisers.”
“It must be Nolan, or whoever is left alive down there,” Fizgig mused, tail swishing behind her. “We need to get them out of there. Their survival is critical, as is their intel.”
“Sir, the enemy fleet is between us and the cruiser. They’ll be able to get to it before we can. In fact, a wing of their fighters just broke off. They’ll reach the cruiser in eighty-nine seconds.” Juliard looked up at Fizgig. “We don’t have a clear line of fire.”
“Khar.” Fizgig stabbed a button on the chair, opening a channel. “That ship must reach us safely. Protect it at all costs.”
“Of course, Mighty Fizgig. I’m not certain we can reach it safely.” Khar noted the fact, but in typical Tigris fashion, he refused to allow that to deter him.
“Let me worry about that, Khar. Save that ship.” Fizgig ended the connection. “Juliard, order all vessels to open fire at the two dreadnoughts on their right flank. Authorize the use of all remaining theta ammo. Make a hole, no matter the cost.”
The 2nd opened up, a volley of synthetic stars streaking into the pair of dreadnoughts. The two ships were pristine, untouched by the rest of the combat. It didn’t save them. Theta shots punched through their shields, slamming into the hull. Both lost their main cannons, and both wounded vessels immediately retreated toward the rear of their fleet. They were descending toward high orbit, screened by the three intact dreadnoughts, just as she’d expected.
Their movement left a gap in the line, exactly the kind of hole Fizgig had been hoping to force. Khar’s booster mechs poured into the gap, moving swiftly to surround the cruiser.
Their line met the wave of enemy fighters, booster mechs flitting between the larger fighters. The spindly ships fired pulses of red, struggling in vain to pin down Khar’s mechs. The mechs fired mixed volleys of missiles and particle cannon pulses, carving deep holes in the enemy’s lines.
“Sir, the cruiser is hailing us,” Juliard said.
“Open a channel.”
The view screen shifted, showing the dim interior of an unfamiliar ship. A knot of Coalition soldiers stood in the foreground, but they were surrounded by green-scaled Saurians. A short, stubby little alien in a blue environmental suit stood next to the soldiers.
“I never thought I’d be so glad to see you, Admiral,” a bearded soldier said. His armor was dented and dirty, his face covered in sweat.
“Burke, is that you? You’re the senior most surviving officer?” Fizgig dug her claws into the arm of the chair, scratching furrows in the metal.
“I’m afraid so, sir.” Burke looked decidedly uncomfortable. Fizgig leaned forward, licking her chops. He paled further. “Nolan decided to remain behind, to destroy one of the planetstriders. We knew that if we couldn’t take it out, there was no chance of me breaking orbit. There still isn’t. The fighters can dodge that thing, but the moment we break for orbit that monstrosity is going to kill us.”
“Nolan said he’d remove this threat?” she asked, settling back into her chair.
“Yes, sir.”
“Our fighters will escort you as far from the battle as possible. Hopefully, Nolan disables the planetstrider. If not, you’ll have to take your chances.” Fizgig killed the communication, turning back to the battle. She had to buy Nolan time, but the cost was already mounting.
The three remaining dreadnoughts were keeping her forces at bay, trying to pin them in a way that would allow the planetstriders to pick them off. Thus far her line was holding, but it wouldn’t be long before her fleet buckled entirely.
“The Civilis just went down,” Juliard shouted. “Our line is adjusting to compensate.”
Fizgig closed her eyes, taking slow, deep breaths. She forced her tail to stillness. For good or ill, the battle would be decided soon.
55
Complications
Nolan tried not to hover, but couldn’t resist pacing back and forth over the ladder leading back to the hatch. Hannan sat a few feet away, munching on a soybar. Both of them pointedly avoided looking at Lena.
The Tigris scientist was bent over a terminal next to a floating blue cube. That cube’s design was unmistakably Primo, and it raised some very troubling questions. Most of the technology used by the Ganog was similar to what the ancient Primo had used, but this one piece was nearly identical.
For that to have happened, the Ganog must have run into the Primo at some point—or they’d run into the Void Wraith. Given these Nameless Ones, Nolan was fairly certain the latter possibility was more likely.
“I’ve tried every command I can think of, but nothing is working. This core requires specific codes to access, and we don’t have those codes. I’m not a hacker, Nolan. I cannot find a way around this. I do not know what to do.” Lena’s tail drooped, but her attention stayed on the cube.
“Noted. Looks like we’ll need to move on to plan B.” Nolan gave a sigh. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but the pragmatic side of him had always understood that this would likely b
e the only way to stop the planetstrider.
A new voice crackled over the comm. “Captain Nolan, this is Admiral Fizgig.”
“Fizgig? It is damned good to hear your voice, Admiral. Time’s short, as always. What do you need?”
“We’re losing, Nolan. We’ve inflicted a great deal of damage on their fleet, but we have no way of countering their planetstriders. We must withdraw. Quickly. Do you have some way to reach safety?”
“Negative, but don’t worry about us. Did you get Burke up safely?” he asked.
The planetstrider took another step, sending Nolan lurching toward the wall. He caught himself on the lip of the window over the monster’s head. It provided a breathtaking view of the ruined city below.
“No, and it is for that reason I have contacted you. Can you disable the planetstrider? Burke’s fate lies in your hands, Nolan.”
“Not just Burke. Annie is on that ship, along with Aluki, and a number of other refugees. Those refugees can put us in contact with dissidents throughout the Ganog Imperium. You’re going to need them, sir,” Nolan explained pragmatically.
He met Hannan’s gaze, and she gave him a half-smile. She knew what they were being asked to do. What the cost was.
“Your courage will be remembered, Nolan. Your songs will be sung by my pride until the stars go cold; you have my word on that,” Fizgig promised.
Nolan almost thought he detected a note of sadness. “As last acts go,” Nolan said, “it’s not a bad one. We need sixty seconds to stop this thing from firing. Tell Burke he can go at that point. Nolan out.” Inexplicable calm washed over him. He took a deep breath, then turned to Lena and Hannan. “You heard the lady. We’ve got sixty seconds to end this.”
