The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  The volley had done nothing.

  The Omega thrust both arms forward, on either side of the cannon in its chest. The cannon began to glow. Light built, then the cannon discharged a beam of pure white that washed over both planetstriders. Everything touched by the beam disintegrated, evaporating into a fine mist that dissipated instantly. The remains of both planetstriders toppled to the slope, tumbling forward to rest at the Omega’s feet. Their messy remains kicked up a fierce, foul-smelling wind.

  The second and third Omegas moved to form a line with the first, both extending their arms just as the first had. Twin beams boiled away the sky, the first spearing Grak’s oldest Planetstrider through the midsection. The second caught Worldender, disintegrating both reptilian legs.

  “Techsmith,” Grak bellowed, whirling until he spotted another cringing Saurian standing as far from the body of his fallen companion as he could get without being out of earshot. “Order all planetstriders to retreat to Derleth. What news from orbit?”

  “Six Kthul dreadnoughts have warped in-system, and are moving to engage our fleet.” The techsmith clutched its arcanotome, trembling.

  “Order the fleet to Derleth as well.” Grak’s shoulders slumped. His fleet couldn’t stand against the full might of the Kthul, not when the Kthul were backed up by an armada of these Void Wraith. He fell to his knees, dropping his axe to ground with a clatter. “I will be remembered as the clan leader who lost Nyar. I’ve been such a fool. What have I done?”

  He stared up at the Omegas. None had fired a second shot, but that hardly mattered. His planetstriders were in full retreat, running until they were far enough away to safely warp. The Omegas did not pursue. Instead they began walking toward the Ganog lines.

  Grak’s forces had reached the harvesters, and were locked in a fierce brawl with the last of the Void Wraith defenders. By the time they saw the advancing Omegas, it was too late. Fifty of his finest died in a single footstep, crushed into atoms by the incalculable weight of the Omega.

  Wind whipped at Grak, but he refused to let it move him. He stood fast, staring hatefully at the Omega until the wind faded. Then he picked up his axe, holding it aloft with both hands. The Omega’s foot rose, kicking up another gust of wind, and began to fall.

  Grak dropped to one knee, using all his considerable strength to prop the blade aloft. If this was his end, he would meet it defiantly.

  The titanic, blue foot blotted out the sun, giving a loud, low whistle as it approached. Then it crashed down on Grak, ending his shame.

  17

  Don't Do This

  Nolan leaned through the airlock, clinging to the doorway against the fierce wind. A pair of Ganog sprinted furiously toward him, the sound of their passage drowned out by panicked screams as vessels attempted to flee.

  “Get on board,” Nolan roared over the wind, stepping aside to allow Kokar to squeeze past. The Ganog’s ever-present mentor slid inside a moment later. Nolan slammed the airlock button, and the door hissed shut behind them, bringing relative quiet. “Let’s move to the cargo bay. We need to discuss a plan of action.”

  “A plan of action?” Hruk snorted. “This world is lost, fallen before the treachery of the Kthul.”

  “It falls before the stupidity of my father,” Kokar snapped, whirling to face Hruk, “not because of the Kthul.” He grabbed Hruk by the straps on his armor, tugging him closer. “I know you love him, Hruk, but in this he is wrong. Our people’s fate may have been sealed, dooming us on the eve of the Nameless Ones’ ascendance. If this human can help us fight back, then yes…we seek a plan of action.” He released Hruk, and turned back to address Nolan. “Please, lead the way, Captain.”

  Nolan nodded, leading the pair up the corridor and into the main hangar. Predictably, Burke and his pilots all stood in small clusters. Each group of people was conveniently located near the stall where their mech was parked.

  All eyes were on a view screen mounted high on the south wall, where it met the ceiling. Outside, the Void Wraith Omegas were tearing the Nyar defenders apart. Elites died by the score, and the survivors scattered like ants fleeing the destruction of their hill.

  The perspective shifted slightly as the battleship shuddered into motion. Nolan couldn’t see it, but he had no doubt that Burke had engaged cloaking the instant they’d left the dock. Theoretically, they’d just bought some breathing room.

  “All right, Nolan, let’s put this mess to bed,” Burke called, walking to meet Nolan in the middle of the hangar. Alpha Company’s pilots were all staring, most of their faces still hostile. “Give the word, and I’ll warp us out of here. There’s nothing we can do here, Captain.”

  Nolan noted the use of rank. “Major, I understand your sentiment, but we still have a job to do.” He turned to Kokar. “How will your father respond to this invasion?”

  “I do not know precisely what is happening,” Kokar ventured, “especially in orbit. That will influence his decisions.” His fur went a soft teal. Behind him, Hruk scowled.

  “Kay, bring up a tactical display holo,” Burke ordered, folding his arms. “One to a thousand, show the battle in orbit.” He wore his displeasure openly, but he hadn’t contradicted Nolan. Yet.

  A hologram appeared next to them, its amber glow showing a miniature version of the battle. Void Wraith vessels were tagged all throughout the system, some around the fragmented remains of the warp anchor. Others were moving toward the Nyar fleet, which seemed to be retreating.

  Kokar circled the hologram, studying the battle in orbit. “My father has ordered them to warp away, most likely to Derleth. That will keep our fleet from destruction here. He will send the planetstriders as well.”

  Nolan was watching the view screen still, which showed an Omega finishing off the last of the Ganog defenders. Nolan winced as it stepped on one of the last groups—the command group, he was fairly certain.

  “Lad,” Hruk rumbled, placing a furry hand on Kokar’s shoulder. “Your father is gone.”

  Kokar didn’t look at the view screen. He focused on the hologram, as if the departing Nyar fleet was carrying him away with it. Finally he turned to Nolan. “Our forces have abandoned this world.”

  “How many people live here?” Nolan asked.

  “Eleven billion Ganog, and probably half again as many Saurians,” Kokar ventured. “This is our most populous world.”

  “Nolan, this is no longer our problem,” Burke said. “The Ganog now lack command authority. Their leadership is gutted. If we stay, we get gutted, too. It’s time to bug out. Don’t make this into an issue.” His voice had gone taut.

  Nolan turned to Burke, folding his arms as he stared up at the taller man. “Major, you remember how you said that the president had placed me in charge? I’m exercising my rights as mission commander. I hate to pull rank, but here it is: The Nyar fleet and some of their planetstriders escaped. They are still a significant military force, and our mission stands. Get them into the war on our side.”

  “Nolan, don’t do this.” Burke tensed, his hand moving to his sidearm. “Technically you’ve got authority, but you know exactly how far that goes. I’m not willing to let you get my men killed—not on some fool’s errand.”

  “I know you’re just protecting your people, but hear me out, Burke. We’re cloaked. Right now, they can’t detect us. With the warp anchor gone, we can leave at will. Let’s find a safe place to land, and see if we can help their leadership rebuild. Kokar is the son of their clan leader. Maybe he can pull them together.”

  Nolan turned to Kokar, raising an eyebrow. Kokar didn’t exactly look like he was brimming with confidence.

  “He’s right,” Hruk rumbled, clapping Kokar on the back. “You warned us of the Void Wraith, and were right to tell us not to meet the Kthul in open battle. Our people will remember you spoke, despite the personal cost. Many of our officers survive, and they will be gathering our elites. If we can get them word that you live, we might be able to build a resistance.”

  “A r
esistance that can deal with those?” Burke snapped, stabbing a finger at the view screen. Onscreen, a hulking Omega stepped on a fleeing Ganog unit, then looked around for another target.

  “We don’t get to cherry-pick missions, Burke,” Nolan snapped. “This one sucks, but we’ve got a job to do. Now get your men in line, and get this ship into cover. You handle patrols and security however you want, but you get us away from this spire and into the ruins of that city. Now.”

  Burke stared hard at him, and Nolan was painfully aware of Alpha pilots beginning to move in their direction.

  Finally Burke spoke, “All right, Nolan. We’ll play this your way. But you’d better be right, or I’ll make damned sure you’re not around to crow about it.”

  18

  Halut

  Khar grabbed Zakanna, jumping from Takkar’s command island. As they tumbled out of sight, he extended his wrist and fired a monofilament cable. The barbed hook sunk into the underside of the island, slowing their fall to a more controlled drop.

  “Activate your stealth belt,” Khar whispered, thumbing the switch on his. Energy crackled soundlessly over his fur, mapping movements all around him. In a moment he faded from sight, only a faint shimmer betraying his location.

  A moment later Zakanna did the same. “Where are you leading us?” came her disembodied voice. Her arms tightened around him, and he was impressed that she trusted him enough to offer no protest when being tackled off the side of a floating island.

  “Down to the slums along the hull,” Khar explained. “We’ll take the lift on that island there, the one with the trees. I used it last time.”

  They descended rapidly, and Khar kicked hard to send them arcing toward the island.

  “How long is that cable?” Zakanna asked, with just a touch of nervousness.

  “Three thousand meters. We have plenty of slack,” Khar said, guiding them in a controlled fall. He slowed his wrist winch, willing his nanochrons into his feet, and landed hard. The nanochrons bled away the kinetic energy, and Khar set Zakanna down. “We can use that transport there.”

  “The cargo lift?” Zakanna asked. “I guess they won’t expect that. I should be able to hold my breath long enough, but it will be difficult.”

  Khar began moving toward the strange transport system. The glob of amber liquid disgorged a stick-like alien, then another pushed a cart full of fruit into the bubble. Khar made his way between strange, pink trees, creeping toward the structure. His sensors detected Zakanna’s faint heat signature, putting her about three meters behind him. It spoke to her training that he didn’t need to tell her to maintain a little distance.

  Khar paused next to the pod as another stick-like alien exited the glob of amber, and then he dove in, feeling the familiar cool liquid envelop him. The goo pushed him toward the center of the bubble, and a moment later, a warm, furry form was pressed against him.

  Zakanna wrapped her arms around his waist, so he put an arm around her shoulders. Whether she needed comfort or hoped to give it was unclear. It didn’t really matter. They could be dead soon, and a warrior stole what moments he could.

  The goo hardened into a thick, rubbery gel, freezing them in place. The glob descended toward the base of the ship, a maze of poorly constructed warrens crisscrossing the hull. Unlike the last time he’d come here, not a single figure moved between the hovels. Not one. Clearly, they could hear the battle raging above.

  Finally, the glob stopped three meters above the ground, forcing them through the liquid, toward the ground. Khar landed in a crouch, and heard Zakanna land a moment later.

  “Head down the road to our left,” he said. “We’ll meet at the intersection.”

  He trotted up the narrow alley, squeezing past refuse receptacles and the occasional vehicle. He led Zakanna down the same route he’d taken when originally fleeing Takkar, pausing at each intersection to give instructions.

  “Tell me about this ka’tok we’re going to meet,” Zakanna said, from somewhere to his right. “The conversation will help us keep track of each other.”

  “His name is Halut,” Khar explained, starting up a narrow passageway that seemed familiar. He remembered the red sign on the building they were passing. “He’s a Whalorian. When I was here last, he helped me reach the docking bay. I stowed away in the cargo hold of a freighter. That’s how I arrived on your world.”

  She was silent for a moment, though he could hear her footsteps. He suspected that was by design.

  “It must have been terrifying, trapped on an enemy world surrounded by unfamiliar things.” Her tone conveyed her sympathy.

  “There were…uncomfortable moments of doubt,” Khar admitted. They turned left onto a wider street, and in the distance Khar could see the bunker, butting up against the wall of the ship itself. “Yet is that not what we are trained to face? It cannot have been any more difficult than holding court. You were surrounded by enemies, every day. You knew they wanted you to fail, yet you persevered. You played the role they wanted you to play, but did it masterfully enough to turn their games back upon them.”

  “Did I?” Zakanna asked bitterly. “They hold Imperalis, and are about to take this dreadnought.”

  “A war is not judged by its first battle,” Khar countered. “Unlike Fizgig, I have suffered defeat. Many times. Each time, I survived. In the end, I played an important role in destroying the Gorthian Eye. This war may appear to be going badly, but until it is over we will keep fighting to turn it in our favor.”

  “Thank you, Khar,” Zakanna replied. “Sometimes it is difficult to keep moving under the weight of our problems, but you remind me that we do not have the luxury of despair.”

  The air around Khar began to ripple and fold, time stretching into infinity as the world warped around him. When the process finally stopped, he peered up at the top of the dreadnought.

  Zakanna confirmed his suspicion. “We’ve returned to Imperalis.”

  “We should hurry. Eventually they’ll find Aluki’s cruiser.”

  They continued in silence after that, finally reaching the bunker. It was just as dilapidated as before, the corrugated metal rusting and dirty. The “door”—a simple hunk of bent metal wedged into the doorway—was closed.

  “Halut,” Khar called through a gap in the doorway. “It is Khar. I have returned, and need your assistance.” He heard shuffling inside, then Halut’s blue-suited head appeared at the gap.

  “Mmm, Khar? I do not understand. We got you off the ship. How did you return? Why?”

  “If you will let my companion and I inside, we can explain,” Khar offered. He checked his power reserves. The belt was down to forty-two percent charge, but his own reserves were much higher. He could recharge both belts if necessary, though it would take time.

  “Of course, of course.” Halut heaved the door from the doorway, moving the metal against the wall with surprising ease.

  Khar followed him inside, deactivating his stealth belt. A moment later Zakanna appeared as well. Halut moved the door back into the frame, then waddled over to join them.

  “What is all the fighting about above, and who is your friend?” Halut asked. He hopped up on the narrow bed, and gestured at his one chair.

  Zakanna sat.

  “This is Zakanna, of the Yog,” Khar explained.

  “Empress Zakanna?” Halut asked, paling under his suit. His big eyes blinked up at Khar.

  “Former empress,” Zakanna corrected. “The Kthul relieved me of both my world and my throne.”

  Halut made a series of hoots that were untranslatable. He laid down on the bed. “You’ve brought the empress herself into my hovel. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

  Khar did. “I am sorry, Halut. If there were not so much at stake, I wouldn’t have come.”

  “I’ll have to flee,” Halut said, hopping down from the bed. “I can’t stay, not now. They’ll be coming for you, and when they arrive they’ll give me to the melters.” He began hastily packing his few belongings into a sta
ined, brown sack. “Please tell me you have some sort of plan.”

  “We do,” Khar explained hastily. “There is a cruiser waiting for us in the docking bay. If we can reach it, that cruiser can cloak, just as you saw us do. We’ll be able to escape down to the planet. You can come with us, Halut.”

  “Well, I suppose it can’t be any worse than here,” he muttered. His narrow shoulders slumped. “I’ve only stayed because I hoped I’d hear word of my wife. I suppose that’s unrealistic.”

  Khar placed a comforting paw on Halut’s back. “Again, my apologies, my friend.”

  “Your sacrifice will be rewarded, Whalorian,” Zakanna said. “And you have my apologies for embroiling you in our conflict. I realize that is not fair. But I must ask: Do you have a way to get us to the cruiser undetected? If we travel through these warrens, we’ll never make it.”

  “Oh, I have just the thing,” Halut said, giving a wide, baleen grin. “You won’t much like the smell, but I can promise we won’t be seen.”

  19

  Sanitation Ducts

  Zakanna darted a nervous glance over her shoulder, then one above. Threats could come from any direction—either the lawless slums they walked through or a Ganog patrol sent to find her.

  “Mmm, this way,” Halut said, waddling quickly down an alley. He paused, glancing in both directions before he moved to the wall. He removed a black, metal triangle from his suit and pressed it against the grimy hull.

  Zakanna followed, resisting the urge to flip the switch on the stealth belt Fizgig had so graciously given her. There was little point in it, since they had no way to cloak Halut.

  “Will we be out of sight soon?” Khar rumbled, squatting next to the Whalorian.

  Khar treated the ka’tok with the same honor and respect he reserved for her. She found that…odd. She’d already known his culture had different customs, but this one was the most puzzling. They had no barriers between castes, yet still maintained order somehow.