The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  They’d appeared at the nadir of a blue-green world this Coalition called Atreas. It was closer to the star than many habitable worlds, and that, combined with vast oceans, made it both hot and unnecessarily humid. Cities crisscrossed the face of the world, as tattoos covered the faces of the thrice-damned seekers.

  A single spire rose from the surface of the world, extending thousands of miles, past the atmosphere and into high orbit. That spire—a space elevator, the humans called it—connected to a fungus-shaped station. If their intelligence was accurate, it was here that many of their vessels and soldiers were produced.

  Material from the planet flowed up the space elevator, enabling an endless production line. That production line, in all likelihood, was active right now, making more enemies. He couldn’t see inside the station to verify that fact, but the truth would be evident soon enough.

  “Readiness?” Takkar snapped, not looking at the techsmith.

  “All vessels have reported, Clan Leader. We are ready for war, on your order.” Her answer was clipped and efficient. Still laboring under fear, but not so much that she was useless. Excellent. She was the best techsmith he’d had in several full planetary cycles.

  “What of the planetstriders?” Takkar demanded. This war would be fought in two parts, in the sky and on the surface of this world. Takkar must win on both fronts.

  “They have arrived, on the southern edge of the target area,” the Saurian confirmed. “A single planetstrider opposes them, and a number of small mechanized infantry. They match the specifications of those we encountered on Ganog 7.”

  “Interesting,” Takkar murmured. He’d expected the planetstrider—they’d stolen it from him, after all. It made sense they’d used it against him. Yet, they only had light mechanized infantry to back it up. It sounded like suicide. His planetstriders would make short work of theirs, and the mechs couldn’t inflict enough damage to really matter. “What of the enemy fleet?”

  There were a few visible ships around the station, but they looked like cargo vessels. There was not a single warship, not even a random patrol. Takkar’s eyes narrowed. Was this a trap, as he’d feared?

  “We’re picking up a mass of cloaked vessels surrounding the station.” His techsmith closed her eyes, purple pulses feeding into her from the arcanotome. “We cannot get accurate specifications due to the cloaking, but their configuration does not match that of any other vessels we’ve encountered.”

  “So our intelligence was correct. This system is clearly manufacturing a fleet of new vessels. Trap or no, we must advance. Order all vessels forward. Keep fighters docked until I give the word.”

  Takkar’s fleet moved slowly forward, a dozen dreadnoughts surrounded by three times as many support ships. They closed with the station, moving deeper into the system. The ship rumbled briefly as it synced with the planet’s gravity well.

  “Fire a volley at the station, let’s see how they react,” Takkar ordered. He folded his arms, watching as every dreadnought primed its main cannon. A flurry of fiery blasts left their ship, streaking toward the station.

  Sleek blue ships materialized, one after another. A dozen in total. Each ship intercepted one of the blasts, sacrificing itself to the attack. Takkar estimated the vessels as medium-sized cruisers, each with curved wings curling outward in front of the main body. They looked nothing like any of the vessels he’d already fought.

  The new ships exploded spectacularly, not a single vessel surviving the volley from the dreadnought cannons. The sacrifice was troubling. It was unlike previous encounters, when the Coalition had done everything possible to keep their ships from destruction. There was a trap here, but Takkar couldn’t yet see it.

  “Clan Leader,” the Saurian gasped, pointing up at the dreadnought’s transparent upper hull.

  Takkar stared up at the materializing ships, these of a much more familiar variety. There were far more than he’d faced in previous battles, perhaps seventy or eighty in all. Most were smaller destroyers and corvettes, but there were a healthy number of cruisers, and nearly a dozen capital ships.

  The cloud of enemy vessels opened up on a dreadnought on his right flank, firing a mixed barrage of missiles, particle cannons, and bright, glowing stars. Those last were fired from the new weapon they’d deployed back at Ganog 7. It was that last weapon that made the difference, caving the dreadnoughts shield under the weight of artificial singularities.

  He would enjoy that technology, once he’d wrested it from them.

  Once the dreadnought’s shields were down, the enemy fleets intensified their fire, and explosions bloomed all over its surface. Freshly repaired turrets detonated, deepening the scars in the hull.

  “How long until the main cannon is primed?” Takkar growled, more than a little angry with himself. He should have staggered the volley, so that a few of his dreadnoughts could have fired at other targets. Using all the main cannons at once had been an error, and the enemy commander was punishing him for it.

  The Saurian closed her eyes, pulses flowing furiously. “Forty microns, Fleet Leader.”

  “Deploy all fighters,” he roared, clenching a fist and wishing he had something to smash. “Now. Do it now!”

  A few moments later, fighters belched from nearly every dreadnought, hundreds winging their way toward the enemy fleet. The enemy continued to deliver a savage beating, focusing their fire on the dreadnought. Structural fires could be seen throughout the ship, and something bright exploded along the stern. The engines sputtered, then died. The dreadnought began to fall slowly into the planet’s gravity well, drifting toward its inevitable death.

  “Order all vessels to counterattack the moment they can fire.” Takkar stalked back and forth, watching powerlessly as his fighters crept toward the enemy. He struggled to be patient, knowing that this was merely the battle’s opening gambit. Fizgig had struck a blow, but he would strike back—and soon.

  His dreadnoughts pivoted from the station to face the enemy, main cannons warming up to fire.

  35

  Feint

  “Admiral, the enemy is warming up their guns,” Juliard called from her terminal. Fizgig nodded, rising anxiously to her feet as she studied the enemy’s tactical disposition.

  “Order all vessels to cloak and disperse.” She watched as, a moment later, her forces did exactly that.

  Every ship moved to at least a hundred kilometers from its neighbors, all engaging the improved cloaking drives they’d been refitted with. One by one they winked out, the last disappearing even as the dreadnoughts began their barrage.

  Scarlet beams sliced into the void, carving a path of destruction that found nothing to destroy. The beams passed harmlessly around them, the closest still forty kilometers away.

  Fizgig gave a faint, rumbling purr. “Any damage reports?” she asked, moving back to her chair. She sank gratefully into the mound of cushions, rubbing absently at her leg.

  “Negative, sir.” Juliard’s tone was triumphant. “They didn’t land a single shot.”

  “And the status on that dreadnought?” Fizgig gestured at the holo, which zoomed in on the wounded vessel.

  “It’s falling into the planet’s gravity well, and Kay thinks it would take too long to repair her engines. There’s no saving her, unless the other ships can somehow tow her out.”

  Fizgig was pleased. One of their massive warships was already out of the battle, though that still left eleven capital ships—not to mention the horde of smaller ones. She zoomed back out, studying the enemy’s position. The battle would grow more difficult now that she’d sprung her initial trap.

  How would this enemy commander react? Her previous encounters hadn’t taught her enough, but her gut told her this Ganog was an impatient sort. He was used to quick victories, and she hoped that drawing him into a prolonged conflict would cause him to make mistakes.

  “Sir, the enemy has turned their attention back to the station,” Juliard announced. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Orders,
sir?”

  “Have the Void Wraith engage. Target their smaller vessels. Frigates, corvettes, and cruisers.” Fizgig adjusted her posture, struggling to find a comfortable spot atop the mound of cushions. Her claws itched, and she wished she had access to her post.

  Metallic blue vessels began decloaking, dozens in rapid succession. The sleek Void Wraith ships appeared in a rough wall between the Ganog and the station, but they quickly broke into smaller groups and began converging on enemy targets. They maneuvered closer, like wasps diving in to fight a larger spider.

  Seeing the fleet of Void Wraith harvesters still tugged a shred of dread loose. She’d learned to fear these ships in the last war. They’d torn apart most of the Tigris fleet—and the humans had fared even worse.

  Yet, this time the Void Wraith worked for them, for now at least. Part of Fizgig understood Dryker’s horror, his desire to throw away such a potent tool. The Void Wraith made wonderful shock troops, and spending their lives conserved that of her own forces.

  “The Void Wraith are suffering heavy losses, sir,” Juliard said, though Fizgig could see for herself.

  Harvesters swarmed the enemy, but the enemy was ready. Their fighters harried the harvesters, and their capital ships picked off a dozen with another salvo from their main cannons. She counted a total of twenty harvesters disabled before they’d even really engaged their foes.

  Unfortunately for the Ganog, that left eighty harvesters still firing. Blue energy crackled around the tip of each wing, pooling into a single ball of supercharged plasma. The harvesters flung those balls at their targets, a flurry rushing out into the enemy ranks.

  The smaller ships were devastated, explosions blossoming all over the fleet as they detonated. A second wave of explosions began when wounded harvesters rammed their opponents. The cloud of debris thickened, slowly drifting toward the planet’s gravity well.

  Fizgig tensed as the Ganog fleet counterattacked. Another volley shot from the enemy’s main guns, and the fighters had finally gotten within range to engage the remaining Harvesters.

  “Sir, the Void Wraith are buckling.” Juliard’s voice wavered. “We’re down to twenty-two active vessels.”

  Fizgig had expected the Void Wraith to fare better, but given the Ganog’s superior technology she wasn’t surprised. If they’d had time to outfit the Void Wraith with theta cannons this would have been a different fight, but right now the harvesters simply couldn’t inflict enough damage to threaten the enemy’s capital ships.

  “Have the Void Wraith retreat, then regroup for another pass. Focus on any ship that has already suffered significant damage,” Fizgig ordered.

  She watched as the handful of Void Wraith zipped away from their opponents, each V-shaped ship flickering out of sight as they retreated behind the orbiting factory. She folded her paws in her lap, waiting patiently until the surviving ships returned.

  The Void Wraith came around in another pass, suiciding into enemy vessels, one after another. Juliard turned to Fizgig. “Looks like we took out another fourteen smaller vessels, but the enemy still has over twenty cruisers and eleven dreadnoughts.”

  “I can see that, Lieutenant,” Fizgig snapped. She rose and stalked to the hologram, watching as the enemy fleet turned their attention back to the factory. It was too soon to allow them to destroy it, but neither did she want to risk her fleet in a direction confrontation. Not yet, anyway. “What’s the situation on the surface?”

  36

  Ground War

  When he’d been a kid, Edwards’s father had beaten into him that he needed to find a way to live a good life. Unfortunately, dad had been maddeningly unspecific about what that meant, exactly.

  Edwards had finally figured it out. Right now, he was living the good life. There’d been a time when he thought being a mech was cool, but controlling Rex was about seventy-two levels beyond awesome. Not only could they blow up much larger stuff, but he’d also made a friend. Maybe a best friend.

  Sure, Rex wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he seemed to like hanging out with Edwards as much as Edwards enjoyed hanging out with him.

  “Edwards, what’s your status?” Juliard’s voice came over the comm. Edwards had always had kind of a thing for Juliard, though he knew she’d never look twice at some dumb Marine. Now that he was a disembodied voice living in a cube, it was even less likely he’d ever get her out on a date.

  Eh, at least he had Rex.

  “Uhh, looks like six—no, seven enemy planetstriders. They appeared about fifty clicks south, and are marching in this direction. Some of them look pretty nasty. Whoah, check out the one with whip arms. It’s got, like, nine of ’em.” Edwards zoomed in on that one, then panned back to look at the rest. “Doesn’t look like they have any support with them, but I don’t think they need it.”

  “Okay, the admiral wants you to stay alive as long as possible, while inflicting heavy damage,” Juliard said. “Sounds a lot more fun than being up here.”

  “You ought to come down some time, Lieutenant. We could go for a joy ride,” Edwards managed. He wasn’t exactly asking her out.

  “I’ll take you up on that, if you can kill, let’s say…three of those enemy planetstriders,” Juliard teased. “Good hunting, Sergeant.”

  “Oh, it’s on. Rex, give us a battle cry.”

  The planetstrider stopped, its chest swelling as it sucked in a tremendous amount of air. A bellow like a deep horn rolled out over the city, shattering every window with miles. A couple of the enemy planetstriders didn’t seem to much like it, and lurched into a run toward their position.

  Rex was standing two clicks south of the factory, which sprawled around the base of the space elevator. The tallest buildings didn’t quite reach the planetstrider’s waist, so they weren’t going to work as cover. Edwards turned the external camera toward the elevator itself.

  “Yeah, that’ll work.” Edwards nudged Rex. “Hey big fella, keep that elevator between us and your pissed off buddies, all right?”

  The planetstrider broke into a lumbering run, every gargantuan step crushing smaller buildings. They circled the space elevator’s thick cable, using it to shield Rex from the other planetstriders. Two were quick enough to re-establish line of sight, so Edwards paused and raised the cannon arm.

  The first enemy planetstrider slowed, but it was too late. Edwards released a beam of scarlet, burning a thick, black scar in the planetstrider’s chest. This strider looked like Rex, but was taller and had a pair of missile batteries mounted to his shoulders. Both batteries fired a swarm of missiles, but the planetstrider’s balance was off and the shots zoomed into the sky over Rex.

  The next enemy collided with the first, and both went down in a tangle of limbs. They crushed dozens of buildings, and Edwards was thankful the city had been evacuated. This was doing trillions of dollars in damage, but people could find new homes.

  Edwards maneuvered the cannon into line with the missile-boat strider, then he fired. The barrel vibrated as scarlet energy built within, finally discharging in a sixty-meter-wide beam. It slammed into the missile launcher on the strider’s first shoulder, punching through and into the second. Both detonated.

  A wave of flame and debris enveloped both the planetstrider carrying the missiles and the buddy he was still lying on top of. Smoke and dust swept out for thousands of meters, whipping the debris into a hurricane that shredded those buildings still standing.

  “Well, look at that. I think we actually killed one.” The top planetstrider was missing everything above the shoulders. The one on the bottom was still moving, trying to wriggle its way out from under its dead buddy.

  The other planetstriders were closing in, and his orders were clear. “Run away, Rex, fast as you can. Get on the backside of that hill over there.”

  Rex lumbered into an awkward run, leaving a shattered city in his wake. Edwards still couldn’t believe no one was going to yell at him for that. They’d said not to worry about blowing stuff up.

  An
y level of destruction is acceptable. The president had said that.

  Rex’s rear sensors showed the pack of planetstriders, most clustered around the body of their fallen companion. They weren’t chasing him though.

  “Hey, Lieutenant Juliard?” Edwards commed. “Rex and I managed to down one and wound another. We’re falling back until the rest of our boys get here.”

  “Acknowledged, Edwards. You still owe me two more planetstriders.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Edwards watched the enemy planetstriders recede into the distance, knowing he and Rex could get back just as quickly. “You just let me know when Alpha Company advances, and we’ll blow the shit out of those bastards.”

  37

  The Beacon

  Utfa was thankful for his voluminous robes, for they covered his fur. It had gone muddy yellow, streaked through with brown-red—nervousness and the worst flavor of fear. He pulled his hood lower, stepping onto the broad disk to join his dozen best adepts.

  He’d never been this nervous, but then never had this much been at stake. The next few minutes would determine his fate, the fate of the Kthul, and possibly the fate of all Ganog.

  “Begin,” he murmured, clutching his arcanotome to his chest as he stepped to the center of the platform. The adepts made way, bowing deferentially as the disk began to rise into the air. Three similar disks followed, each containing a cluster of his best warriors. They numbered fifty-six in all, a small but potent force.

  Normally, it wouldn’t be enough to attempt what he was now daring, but Zakanna had pulled her forces back to protect herself and her precious Adepts. She expected Utfa to come for her, and it wasn’t a bad plan.

  Zakanna’s forces still outnumbered his own, but Utfa wasn’t attacking her directly. Not until he’d found and activated the beacon. Then, if the dream fragment was true, he’d have access to the guardians. The arcanotome’s oldest archives mentioned them, but were unclear about what that meant exactly. They did indicate that it was a sizable and nearly unstoppable army—one that would serve the controller of the beacon with absolute obedience.