Valiant (Jurassic War Universe Book 1)

by Kristoff Chimes

Rage and a hundred marines ran along the trench. Rage stopped thirty feet below a twenty inch cannon. It swiveled around and pointed directly at Valiant. He took a grenade from his belt.

  “Three ought to do it.”

  He pointed at two marines.

  “Bailey and Fitz,” he whispered. “With me. The rest of you, start climbing out of this trench and make your way to the dome as soon as we take out this gun.”

  Fitz engaged his power-armor’s rockets and started lifting out of the trench. He hovered two feet above Rage.

  Rage shook his head.

  “Conserve your rockets,” he said. “We’ll need them for the descent into hell. Mag-pads only.”

  Rage extinguished his blade and sheathed it. The others followed.

  They engaged mag-climb on their power-armor. Their knee pads and wrist pads magnetized. They climbed efficiently up the metallic trench wall. Bailey led. Rage followed. Fitz took the rear.

  Ten feet from the top, Fitz cried out. Rage glanced down at the marine. A blue plasma fire arrow burned into Fitz’s back. The marine hung limply by the wrists. Dead.

  An array of a hundred blue burning arrows arced over the trench and fell toward them. Rage climbed faster. He heard another cry above him. Bailey fell and tumbled backwards.

  By the light of a burning blue arrow embedded deep in Bailey’s back, Rage saw the marine remained attached to the wall by his knees.

  Rage cursed to himself and climbed on. He came to the barrel of the long gun. He hooked his arms and legs over the barrel. He dragged himself along the mouth of the barrel. Plasma arrows bounced off the barrel around him. Sending splinters of plasma fire shrapnel into his visor.

  He felt an arrow pierce his leg armor and burn like hell. A moment later he felt the power-armor’s medi-bots flood the wound with strong pain-killers. He knew they’d set out to repair the wound immediately. But first, before the plasma burned through his skin to his femur, he needed to remove the arrow.

  He reached down to his thigh and gripped the arrowhead. He gritted his teeth and yanked hard on it. The arrow loosened. Another sharp tug brought tears to his eyes as the arrow came free in his hand.

  A volley of cries rang out. He turned to see marines falling off the trench wall as Vanguard archers picked them off.

  The arrows stopped falling. For Rage it meant only one thing. He glanced up and caught sight of a Vanguard raider hurtling along the trench toward them.

  He took three grenades from his belt and hurled them down the barrel. Five seconds later the barrel split open and began dropping to the trench floor. A shock wave dislodged his grip and he fell.

  His power-armor’s rockets engaged and he floated in space. Like an inflatable doll at a victory parade he drifted into the path of the raider. It fired bolts of plasma directly at him.

  ***

  Vanguard General Kroq whipped at his black leather knee-high boots. He strode out of the elevator and into the vast hangar deck. Zania Tebrok accompanied him.

  All raiders had been cleared from the deck for his very special cargo. Taking delivery of his new fighting force would assure those in the High Council that his army was now finally invincible.

  In the shadows, the mighty legion, like none ever known in the history of warfare, roared out at him. He felt a shiver of pride, and apprehension. He knew his reputation was at stake. We must not fail to crush the human invaders.

  He approached his muzzled beast as its red eyes stared out of the sockets in its dented armor.

  Zania climbed up into the saddle of a T.Rex.

  Kroq leapt up into the saddle of his T.Rex. He slapped the crown of the T.Rex’s head to signal his control.

  “Behold, a ground force worthy of mention alongside our legendary Death Hawk legion. I shall name them Death-Stalkers.”

  “As you wish, General,” Zania said. “But I suggest, before you name this legion, we should first see how they perform in battle.”

  “Always weighing the odds, eh, Zania?”

  “I taste the winds of war to see from which direction death comes. And death always comes… to all of us.”

  Kroq remembered why he usually felt uncomfortable in her presence, and had second thoughts about her accompanying him. He wanted an impartial witness to verify the soon-to-be legendary status of is new legion.

  Perhaps I should have invited President Morlok instead. No matter. She’ll soon fall into line and kiss my boot caps, along with the rest of High Command. When I’m done winning the battle for Nightwing, I’ll lobby for conquering Terra, as I did Luna.

  Another Rex pulled up alongside. Its rider saluted Kroq with the customary beating of his chest, followed by an open handed gesture.

  The General recognized the T.Rex’s chief keeper, Commander Iago and reciprocated the salute.

  “How you liking the beasts so far, General?” Iago asked.

  “I’ll let you know once we give them a good run,” Kroq said and looked over his shoulder.

  Five hundred T.Rexes and their riders lined up in a readiness. Kroq gestured at the main doors, all of seventy five feet in height.

  “Open doors,” Kroq ordered. “Prepare to march on the invaders.”

  He stood up in his saddle to address his troops.

  “We, Vanguard’s elite, bear the burden and the pride of defending Vanguard from those alien races who shall not bow to their superiors. But far more than respect is at stake.

  “As our home world burns, we defend those amongst us who seek to save our race. For years our finest minds have sacrificed much to bring us a new generation of Vanguardians. Victory today assures the roll out of our meticulous plans.

  “Defeat assures the inevitable end of our race. Our foes cannot be allowed to unite under the banner of rebellion. Victory brings with it a new dawn of hope for us, for our future children and for the righteousness of the superior race.”

  He felt a frisson of electricity resound in his own words.

  “Death shall not rule us,” he shouted.

  Five hundred voices responded as one: “Vanguard! Rulers of death!”

  Zania’s voice was not amongst them. Kroq glanced across at the crossbow in her hands. He admired the black steel and gold limbs of the bow fashioned like the wings of a hawk. The flight groove ran along the back of a cobra snake. Its jaw held the quiver of blue plasma fire arrows.

  “What need have you for such a weapon,” Kroq asked, “when all who see and hear us coming shall flee?”

  She smiled enigmatically. “You believe at the head of Death-Stalkers, you command the winds of death?”

  “I do.”

  “But know this, General: those winds are fickle. They may yet blow against us.”

  Kroq turned to face the doors and swept a hand down through the air.

  “Forward,” he commanded.

  Commander Iago pulled alongside Zania.

  He leaned over to her. “If I find your traitorous sister,” he said in her ear, “I shall dine on her blood. Stem the flow of shame and end the stench coming from your Blood House.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Zania studied his eyes and smiled.

  “I shall dine with you, Iago,” she said and cracked her Cat-o-light tails across the neck of her T.Rex, sending sparks into Iago’s face.

  He pulled down his visor and forced his T.Rex onward.

  “And your blood too, shall be mine,” he said to himself, “sister of a traitor.”

  ***

  Rage’s power-armor deployed counter measures. Flares blasted out of his chest and his back-pack. Zipping off into wide arcs away from him.

  The raider’s plasma missiles changed direction. A rapid-fire sequence of bursts neutralized the raider’s plasma bolts. The shock waves spun Rage around uncontrollably. His Power-armor’s gyro fought to reassert control as shrapnel tore into his armor.

  The feeling of heavy silence pummeled him and he knew the raider sought him out.

  He drew his Xiphos and ignited the flame. He brought up the sword, but
too late. The raider collided into him. It held him firmly trapped between its two fangs.

  The Vanguard pilot dipped his raider’s nose and dived at the marines below. Scuttling spider-bots crawled across the metallic surface of the raider and leapt at Rage’s visor. It cracked almost instantly under the pummeling pressure of their mandible claws.

  Rage swiftly drove his Xiphos through the spider-bots, scattering their bodies away. He slammed down the tip of the fiery blade into the cockpit of the raider. He pulled away the blade.

  A jet of pressurized air streamed out the hole in the cockpit canopy. Rage plucked a grenade from his belt and hurled it through the hole.

  Five seconds…

  He raised his knees.

  Four…

  He kicked out at the raider’s streamlined fangs. But he remained trapped. He scrolled down his visor’s menu list for maximum booster rocket support.

  Three…

  He kicked out again, and hit the boosters.

  Two…

  He pulled away from the raider. His booster rockets failed.

  One…

  The raider pilot frantically initiated his ejector seat.

  Zero…

  The raider’s cockpit exploded. The canopy ejected. It collided with Rage. He grabbed hold of the pilot in his chair. He punched the quick-release mechanism of his seat straps and ripped the pilot out of his ejector seat.

  Rage climbed into the seat and redirected the ejection arc. He guided it down to the marines below and landed with a rolling sequence of high-speed bumps.

  As the deep ravine of a gun battery trench loomed up at him, Rage leapt from the seat and rolled into a group of marines.

  “My grandchildren will never believe what I just witnessed, Colonel,” a marine said and handed him his Xiphos.

  “They’ll never believe how ugly their granddaddy is, Marine,” Rage said, “if he ends up being a Vanguard.”

  Rage vomited cheerfully into his helmet and wept as nano-bots cleaned away his vomit. He took his Xiphos back from a the marine and ignited it.

  “Who’s with me?” rage shouted.

  “Who-rah!” came the reply.

  Rage led the way to the perimeter of Nightwing’s shattered dome. Red flame torches reached up from the dark abyss. As a hundred marines gathered around him, he leapt into the temple.

  As he fell, the first wave of marines leapt with him. They glided down the steep curves of the temple’s structure. Rage landed near the wreckage of a raider.

  Rage picked out a T.Rex and rider.

  “Ignite Xiphos,” he ordered. He drew his own sword and felt the flames ripple along his blade.

  A Vanguard glanced up from his saddle as Rage slashed down across his chest armor. The legionnaire fell backwards out of his saddle. He hit the ground and felt instant death crush him under the rampaging foot of a charging T.Rex.

  Rage dropped into the vacated saddle. He slapped the top of the Rex’s head to take control. He grabbed the chain reins and pulled the creature around to the front line of the Vanguard’s attack.

  He glanced up at rows of tiny platforms with intricate carvings of ancient gods staring up into space with blood red eyes.

  Rage had landed two hundred feet inside Nightwing and now looked up at the lines of marines drifting down to join him.

  The shadows of statues shifted in the light of the flames and Rage understood it was a trap.

  Flaming arrows arced across the temple and exploded against marines. An arrow exploded against Rage’s chest and hurled him out of the saddle.

  “Covering fire,” Rage ordered and rolled across the temple floor. He found Dax and Van Cleef firing plasma shots up at the temple statues.

  A great gust of wind buffeted the temple. The statues unfurled wings and leapt from their platforms. In suicidal dives they plummeted. Breaking the arc of descent and carrying away marines. Snapping the marines’ necks and as they climbed, dropping them on their comrades.

  “Death Hawks,” Rage shouted. He turned to face Sol Morlok. The Vanguard slashed a flaming Makhaira blade against Rage’s chest and propelled him across the floor.

  Rage lay on his back, gasping for air as Sol Morlok bounded across the temple floor and grabbed Dax by his throat. Lifting him up off his feet as he raised his Makhaira for the kill.

  Fyre leapt out of the darkness. But Sol was too fast. He slashed the Makhaira against her helmet and split it in two.

  She fell onto her back, but quickly leapt to her feet.

  Dax ran over to Fyre. Sol grabbed Dax by the throat and hurled him to the floor.

  “Fyre,” Sol shouted. “I smell your scent on this man. For your betrayal, you must witness the death of Zen Dax.”

  “No, Sol,” she shouted. “This is between you and I. Free Dax and I shall return to you.”

  Sol spat at her feet. “I should take you back after your betrayal?”

  “I did it out of love,” she said.

  Hesitation swelled in his eyes. “Love for whom?” Sol asked. “Love for me, or for this pathetic human? Look me in the eye and swear to me you do not love this human, and I shall release him.”

  Fyre glanced at Dax as he fought with both hands to free his throat from Sol’s crushing grasp.

  Dax read her look and he knew with absolute certainty that he felt the same way about her.

  She took a deep breath and looked at Sol. She shook her head. “I cannot lie,” she said. “I love Zen Dax.”

  Sol’s eyes raged with fire as he buried the blade into Dax’s armor until it burned through his body and out the other side. He threw Dax at Fyre’s feet.

  “I defy you to bring your lover back from death.”

  Sol turned his back on her. He slashed and burned through a dozen marines.

  “Unleash Nightwing upon Valiant,” he shouted and ran from the temple. “Kill them all.”

  CHAPTER 113 - BATTLE STATIONS

  Hannibal stared at the evaporating cloud around Nightwing. The sheer scale of the Vanguard ship trapped the breath in his body. The pressure squeezed until he felt suffocated with an intensity of fear like none other he’d ever experienced. Except, perhaps the day he discovered he’d lost his wife forever.

  “Captain,” Blok said, “your orders?”

  Hannibal jolted and glanced at the crew of the bridge staring back at him.

  “Target Nightwing’s engines with everything we’ve got,” Hannibal said. “Fire at will.”

  Hannibal felt the tremors of the main battery’s recoil like thunder exploding in his heart. He reached out for the back of his seat to steady himself. A hundred streaking plasma missiles exploded against Nightwing’s hull.

  A cacophony of explosions ripped holes in Nightwing’s hull.

  Hannibal punched the air and reveled in the applause echoing around the bridge.

  Jets of gas spewed screaming bodies out of Nightwing and into the cold, pitiless void of space. Soon their frantic limbs froze and stopped flailing.

  Hannibal swallowed hard and turned away from the hologram and the crew. Ashamed at his thrill for the casualties of war.

  “Maximize all shields facing Nightwing,” Hannibal said. “They’ll be sure to hit us back hard.”

  “But Captain,” said Hanson, “that will leave our shields facing Invincible and Canis Dirus below the minimum defense threshold.”

  “I’m aware of that Lieutenant. I’m gambling our diplomatic team will neutralize Invincible. Besides, I know Invincible’s capabilities well enough. We saw what Nightwing did to Moon-base Armstrong. But Nightwing’s full capability in war is an unknown factor. Satisfied?”

  Hanson seemed ashamed of his questions. “Thank you, Captain, um, yes.”

  Hannibal nodded. He knew if he indulged the crew in these moments, they’d focus all the better for it.

  Or maybe I need to convince myself of this madness...

  The space between Nightwing and Valiant filled with a vast array of plasma missiles.

  “First wave of en
emy missiles, Captain,” Hanson shouted.

  “How many?”

  “It’s impossible...”

  Hannibal put a hand on Hanson’s shoulder to steady the man’s nerves. “How many, Hanson?”

  “Sensors track over a thousand missiles, Captain. All with multiple warheads.”

  “Counter measures,” Hannibal said, but he knew too many would get through.

  “Countermeasures deployed,” Hanson said.

  Hannibal watched a defensive barrage shoot down one in every four of Nightwing’s missiles.

  “Prepare for breach,” Hannibal said and grabbed the chair again.

  The force of impact hurled the crew out of their chairs.

  “Damage report,” Hannibal shouted.

  Ensign Creon Galbraith stared at his console’s readouts. His trembling lips moved, but no words sounded.

  “Ensign?” Hannibal asked gently.

  “We lost a dozen levels, including sick bay, Captain. Engineering reports two engines lost. Damage to gravity sphere. Life-signs sensors report five hundred deaths and rising.”

  “Thank you, Ensign,” Hannibal said calmly and patted the young man on the shoulder. He clenched his own fists and fought down the need to vomit. “As you were.”

  “Captain,” Galbraith gasped.

  “What now?”

  “It’s Invincible, Captain. She’s powering up her main guns. She’s targeting us.”

  CHAPTER 114 - GLAW’S LAST CHARGE

  An Ursu troop carrier set down on Nightwing’s landing bay.

  Glaw turned in the saddle of his T.Rex and cried out to his armored T.Rex legion.

  “For our Kingdom, for freedom, and for the land and possessions of any traitor you kill. And if that’s not enough, a year’s supply of pizza and honey beer to wash it all down, goes to whomever brings me the head of Sol Morlok. ”

  “No,” came a cry.

  Glaw glanced down at the figure stood just out of reach of his T.Rex’s slashing tail.

  “Myf, why do you always have to scat all over my speeches. I spent all night thinking up that one.”

  “It shows,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Nobody touches Sol Morlok.

  “Are you nuts?” Glaw asked. “Morlok is the tyranny that shackled Ursu. I owe his head to my people. He has to face Ursu Justice. T.Rex style.”