The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  He sprinted forward, charging down a wide street, then leapt into the air and wrapped a metal hand around the midsection of one of the largest spires. He used it to increase his momentum, flinging himself even higher in the air.

  He arced his plasma blade around in a brutal slash, but the queen twisted out of the way. Her tail darted forward, snaking around the Omega’s right leg. She flew upward, beating her wings furiously as she carried them ever higher.

  The ground receded at an alarming rate, and try as he might, Nolan was unable to connect with the giant bug. She kept twisting at the last second, jerking them with her tail so the blows missed. Nolan finally got a hand around the tail, pinning it in place. He rammed the plasma blade into the thick, chitinous hide.

  The queen shrieked, kicking them away from her with her remaining legs. Nolan held on. He ripped his plasma blade from the tail and brought it up in a wide slash, severing the tail in a spray of brown-yellow ichor. The queen shrieked again, struggling to gain altitude. She receded above them as they fell, unable to stop the Omega’s fall.

  “Hannan, any chance you can get that shield back online?” Nolan asked, praying silently.

  “On it, sir,” Hannan replied, tense but confident.

  They plummeted toward the ground, and Nolan shifted Nyar so they could see it rushing up at them. They only had a few seconds. He winced, resisting the urge to tell Hannan to hurry.

  A moment before impact, the energy barrier swung back into place. They slammed into the ground with the force of a meteor, blasting a wave of stone, metal, and earth in all directions. The blast leveled a quarter of the city, though thankfully not an occupied quarter.

  “Nyar, is there any way to know what systems have been damaged?” Nolan asked. He guided the Omega back to its feet, crushing several large trees as he stood.

  “The Omega will repair itself, as able. Like the cannon, it will draw on a pilot to fuel repairs.”

  Yulo spoke, his voice thick with concentration. “I believe I can accelerate those repairs, Captain.”

  “Do that.” Nolan took a wobbly step around a stand of trees to get a better look at the Nameless One’s retreating form. The queen was still gaining altitude, and in a few more minutes would break orbit. “If she makes it to the Kthul fleet we’ll never stop her. Kokar, I need that cannon, and I need it now.”

  “I believe I can fire the cannon, Captain, but it’s an impossible shot. She’s nearly broken orbit. Even if I hit her, the blow will not be fatal.”

  “We have to try,” Nolan thought aloud. Then he laughed. “Wait a minute, we’ve got the best sniper in the fleet. Nuchik, can you make that shot?”

  “Second or third best,” Nuchik replied, “but I think I can probably hit that bitch.”

  Nolan ceded control, and the Omega dropped to one knee. It aimed the cannon skyward, tracking the queen’s flight. Kokar and Nuchik both screamed, their combined voices growing louder as the cannon charged. A beam of brilliant, blue energy shot into the sky, aimed unerringly at the tiny speck the queen had become.

  Nolan willed the Omega’s remaining eye to magnify, zooming in to see the queen. She was hideous—and then she was dead. The beam punched through the rear of her thorax, exiting through her mouth. Waves of energy pulsed outward, and she exploded into yellow-brown mist.

  “Just like a bug hitting a windshield,” Hannan said, a little awe in her voice. “I think I kind of like this mech, sir. Hope we get to keep it.”

  “Congratulations, Pilot,” Nyar interrupted. “You have slain a Nameless One. A young one, but an impressive feat nonetheless. You have saved countless worlds from being devoured.”

  “It isn’t the first Nameless One I’ve killed, and I promise it won’t be the last.” Nolan grinned, thrusting the Omega’s fist into the air. “So, Nuchik, Kokar, how do you feel about delivering me some dead Kthul dreadnoughts? I count four.”

  “Just let me catch my breath,” Nuchik panted. “Kokar, you ready for this?”

  “A moment, and then we shall end our hated foes once and for all,” Kokar roared.

  54

  T'kon's Decision

  T’kon stared out the observation dome, taking in the nebula staining the stars a bright green. He’d been staring at the same nebula for a week, and the view had lost its majesty. He itched to act. The waiting was excruciating.

  “You sent word that you have finally chosen a course,” Jehanna said, her robes swishing as she pressed up against his back. “Where will you take the fleet?”

  “I will tend to the survival of our race,” T’kon said, turning to face her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. “The needs of our clan must come second. If the day comes when the Azi are no more, than so be it.”

  “I do not envy you the choice,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. “Were it me, I would be weak. I would return to reclaim our home world. Especially knowing that Oako has but a single dreadnought guarding it. If not there, then where have you chosen?”

  “I’ve chosen the place where we can make the most difference. Only one clan is still strong enough to resist the Nameless Ones.” T’kon turned to the techsmith. “Order the fleet to warp to Nyar. Tell them to ready for combat.”

  “Yes, Clan Leader,” the Saurian said, giving a respectful bow. He turned with dignity, closing his eyes. Pulses of data flowed to and from his arcanotome.

  “Thank you,” T’kon said, drawing a surprised glance from his wife. He smiled down at her. “I learned many things during my time as clanless, wife. The ka’tok are not less than us. They are worthy of respect, even if they fill a different role in our society. Treating them as allies, instead of as slaves, ensures that they are invested in our joint future.”

  “I do not know how I feel about this change to our customs,” Jehanna said, blinking. She disengaged from him, peering up at the observation dome as the warp began.

  T’kon waited for his innards to stop twisting, then immediately scanned the system they’d arrived in. He’d heard of the legendary world, but had never been to Nyar. The first thing he noticed was the sea of asteroids. No doubt they’d been clustered densely around the planet, but with no warp anchor to hold them in position, they’d begun to drift. Most had drifted outward, but the defense satellites were busily destroying those that strayed too close to the planet.

  The enemy fleet lay beyond a field of rock—four dreadnoughts and a host of cruisers. That would make this a roughly equal fight.

  “Cut a path through the asteroids,” T’kon ordered, “and concentrate all fire on the closest dreadnought. Deploy fighters, with orders to harass the smaller ships.” He paced back and forth as he stared at the enemy fleet.

  His own fleet began to move, swarming toward the enemy. That enemy was probably just becoming aware of their presence. If he was fortunate, it was possible their commanding officer wasn’t even on the command island.

  The dreadnought rumbled as the main cannon built energy. A beam of scarlet shot into the black, disintegrating asteroids before slamming into the side of the enemy dreadnought. Ripples of scarlet passed through the shield, but it held. Until the other three cannons fired.

  Armor fountained from the wounds, followed by puffs of blue-white atmosphere flooding into space. The enemy shields quickly patched the holes, but that only stripped them of their ability to protect the rest of the vessel.

  Fighters winged toward the enemy, clusters swarming around cruisers and frigates. The Kthul ships fought back, destroying a smattering of fighters even as their own vessels were cut down. The first wave was a dramatic success, simply because the enemy wasn’t prepared.

  “Have the fighters penetrate deeper into the enemy fleet. Keep them on the defensive,” T’kon ordered, clasping his hands behind his back.

  “Command suits you,” Jehanna said, smiling.

  “I’ve missed it,” T’kon said, his gaze never leaving the battle. He turned to the techsmith. “How long until the next cannon volley?”r />
  “We are nearly ready,” the Saurian said, running a forked tongue along its scaly lips. “Firing, Clan Leader.”

  The dreadnought rumbled again, as it and its sisters fired again at the wounded dreadnought. This time, the shields did little. The volley tore mortal wounds, and the enemy ship broke at the keel. Two pieces began drifting toward the atmosphere. It looked like they’d come down over the southern ocean, on the least populated part of the planet.

  The enemy was coming about now, their three remaining dreadnoughts pivoting to deal with T’kon’s forces. He smiled grimly as his fighters savaged their smaller ships. Enemy fighters were no doubt scrambling, but every moment they were absent meant the destruction of more support ships.

  This, too, was something T’kon had learned as a hunter. The dreadnoughts were impressive, but the smaller ships were necessary to administer a realm. Destroy them, and you had nothing to protect your worlds. Removing them here wouldn’t decide the battle, but it would cripple the Kthul in the days to come.

  “Enemy dreadnoughts are firing, Clan Leader,” the techsmith said, with a slight bow.

  Four rivers of scarlet energy converged on T’kon’s vessel, and the shield rippled red as it struggled to protect them. It failed. High above, armor screamed as superheated chunks exploded into space. T’kon spun to face the techsmith. “Order our dreadnought to retreat behind the others. The Yog’s Blessing and the Void Hunter are to protect our flanks.”

  “Husband?” Jehanna asked, clearly confused.

  “Personal glory is worthless if we are dead, my wife,” T’kon explained, grinning at her. “Honor dictates that I keep our vessel in the fight until the end—but that’s madness. Another volley will destroy us.”

  “Cannons ready, Clan Leader,” the techsmith informed him.

  “Have all vessels fire on the closest dreadnought,” T’kon ordered, folding his arms. These next few moments would be critical.

  The volley savaged the enemy’s shield, and tore significant rents in the hull. A few moments later, the enemy fired as well, focusing on the Kavast. The dreadnought weathered the storm, barely.

  “Order the Kavast to the rear of our ranks, and move into position to fire on the wounded enemy dreadnought.” T’kon began pacing again, praying this strategy would work.

  His flagship came around, its cannon charging. It fired, the scarlet beam punching through the wounded dreadnought and emerging from the other side. Structural fires blossomed throughout, and the doomed vessel began tumbling toward the atmosphere.

  “Have our wounded vessels fall back. The fresh dreadnoughts will screen us.” T’kon smiled triumphantly as the second enemy dreadnought plummeted toward the world below.

  The first part of the battle had gone well. This next part would be more costly, and he was resigned to losing at least one dreadnought—most probably his own.

  If so, they would go down fighting.

  Fighters were now streaming from the two surviving dreadnoughts, but it was far too little, far too late. The Azi fighters converged on them even as they launched, cutting them down before they could establish any sort of lines.

  But that did nothing to stop the enemy cannons. The familiar scarlet glow built around their weapons, both aimed in T’kon’s direction.

  A beam of pure white boiled up through the atmosphere, slamming into the closer of the two dreadnoughts. The vessel was vaporized instantly.

  The second dreadnought’s cannon fired and the shot slammed into T’kon’s flagship. Huge chunks of molten metal were flung into space, but the hull held.

  There was a sharp flash as the last enemy vessel disappeared.

  The techsmith stated the obvious: “The last enemy dreadnought has warped away. The enemy lines are buckling.”

  “They’ve abandoned their support ships,” T’kon said, laughing. “Order the fighters to finish them off, then contact Captain Nolan to inform him that we’ve secured the space around Nyar. The Kthul will never recover from this loss.”

  55

  Dire Consequences

  Utfa glanced up curiously, his eye drawn by flashes of light and plasma fire. Clusters of sleek, blue harvesters were decloaking around every Kthul vessel orbiting Imperalis, balls of blue plasma streaking into their shields.

  A beam of pure white shot from the planet, then another. The third came straight for his vessel, slamming into the dreadnought.

  Utfa fell heavily, sliding across the command disk as it crashed into a neighboring island. He clutched at the edge, just barely halting his slide. The Saurian techsmith wasn’t so lucky, tumbling silently past him, into the abyss.

  The disk righted, and Utfa climbed back to his feet. The instant it was close enough, he leaped from the disk onto the much larger command island and rolled back to his feet. He stared through the observation dome in horror, watching as the Void Wraith swarmed the Kthul fleet.

  Another beam of pure white boiled up from the planet, ripping into his fleet. Two more shots quickly followed, and the Unending Faith came apart at the seams, detonating into a blinding supernova. The Void Wraith Omegas were using the planetary cannons, the very same he’d used to secure this planet in the first place.

  Another techsmith zoomed over, hopping from the transport disk. He dropped to one knee and properly averted his gaze. “Orders, Clan Leader?”

  “Warp us to Kthul, immediately,” Utfa snapped, thankful to have something to vent his rage upon. There was no salvaging the situation. The best he could hope for was survival, though surviving also meant facing the Nameless Ones.

  The techsmith closed his eyes, and an instant later Utfa’s insides twisted. They appeared in a clear patch of space above a green world. His world. Utfa took a calming breath, then looked for other vessels. There were none.

  “Status of the rest of the fleet?” Utfa demanded.

  “They are unable to warp, Clan Leader. Something the Void Wraith have done prevents them from fleeing.” The techsmith remained kneeling, but looked ready to bolt.

  “Then we are alone,” Utfa muttered, shoulders slumping. He didn’t know how, but Zakanna had overwhelmed the beacon. Its destruction meant that the Void Wraith might very well kill them all.

  “Clan Leader?” the techsmith asked, hesitantly.

  “What?” he roared, turning his ire on the unfortunate Saurian.

  “We’ve just received word from Nyar. I…recommend you review the battle record.”

  Utfa closed his eyes, focusing on the pulses of data flowing from his arcanotome. They resolved into a holographic insect larger than a planetstrider. The Nameless One—it could only be that—flew frantically upward, beating titanic wings as it sought to escape the planet’s atmosphere.

  Beneath, a battered Omega took aim, carefully lining up a shot.

  “No. No.” Utfa’s eyes snapped open, and he reached for the Saurian. The techsmith wasn’t there. It had wisely fled the rage it knew Utfa to be feeling. “How can this be? How did they kill a Nameless One? How did we lose our entire fleet?”

  Utfa fell to his knees. His fleet had been divided, two thirds at Imperalis and one third at Nyar. He’d thought doing so would prevent it from being obliterated. Even if one fleet was lost, he’d still have the other, or so he’d thought. Now, he had nothing.

  The Kthul had lost everything.

  No. Not everything, boomed a terrible voice, deep in the recesses of his mind.

  A vessel warped into orbit around the planet Kthul, then another, and a third. But…they weren’t vessels. They were…monstrous, living things. Writhing their way toward Kthul.

  Utfa’s eyes widened as he beheld the spawn of the Nameless Ones. Each was horrifyingly different, alike only in their sheer size and the terror they invoked.

  “What have you done?” he whispered, knowing the voice would hear.

  You were warned that the consequences of failure would be dire. One of our progeny is dead, because of your incompetence. You were asked to deliver a conquered world, with no
forces to defend it. And you have done so, if not in the manner of your choosing.

  The Nameless Ones swarmed Kthul’s cities, each belching clouds of smaller creatures. A few vessels attempted to break atmosphere, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Only a full dreadnought—something the Kthul no longer possessed—would have a prayer of fighting one of the Nameless Ones.

  Ufta realized how he had been duped. His forces were spent, leaving his people naked before the storm. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by a sudden flood of data, streaming into his mind from every world in the Kthul’s control. He fought to make sense of the data, recoiling when he finally understood. “No, it cannot be.”

  It is, the voice boomed. My children arrive on a dozen worlds. They devour your clan, wiping you clean from the universe. And when they are finished, they will retreat back into the Void, to digest and grow stronger. There they will slumber, until they hunger again.

  “No,” Utfa snapped, rising to his full height. “The Kthul still possess one dreadnought, and I will use it to fight you.”

  Try.

  Utfa whirled to face the techsmith. “Ready the main cannon. Fire at the closest Nameless One.”

  “I cannot, Clan Leader.” The Saurian looked up, gaze calculating. “It is heresy to fire upon a Nameless One.”

  At first, he could only stare, uncomprehending. Then he realized the full scale of what the Nameless Ones had achieved, of how fully they’d enslaved his people.

  Utfa began to laugh, rolling waves of it until tears streamed down his disfigured cheeks. He’d been beaten, on every level. The Nameless Ones would devour his clan, and likely all Ganog. Serving them had been a terrible, tragic mistake. The power he’d been granted was hollow. Worthless.

  He turned to the edge of the island, and dove off. Utfa stared up at the observation dome, watching it grow further away as he fell. There was a split second of pain as his body impacted, and then blissful oblivion.