Vengeance

by Brian Falkner

  “Scream Four to Scream Leader. I’m counting at least seven Dragons over Canberra.”

  “Then make like St George,” Shaw said. “It’s nothing we can’t handle. On the first pass focus on the air cover. We’ve got Type Ones and Type Twos as well as those Dragons in the air and that means a lot of ordnance coming our way. Stay high, that will give the SAMs a longer ride. The Dragons are going to be our biggest problem. As soon as they fire, go vertical; their rockets will never catch us. Drop your countermeasures as you go and reverse-fire your air-to-air missiles. Once we’ve cleared the sky, we’ll come back for the SAM sites. We need to cut the spikes off this cactus before we go for the juicy bits. Are we clear?”

  She got a chorus of assent from the other members of the team.

  Ahead of them their long-range cameras showed a fiercely burning fire line less than a kilometre from the city. A grey pall of smoke covered almost all of the target area.

  “Scream Two to Scream Leader, do you see those tanks on the thermal scope? Whole bunch of them at our ten. They appear to be heading towards the old US Embassy. Isn’t that where the Angels are?”

  “Solid copy and confirming, Scream Two. That is the safety point for the Angels,” Shaw said.

  “Do you want me to light ’em up?” Scream Two asked. “Give those Angel kids a helping hand?”

  “Negative, Scream Two,” Shaw said. “It’s too dangerous while the Pukes still have air assets in our vicinity. Concentrate on the fighters.”

  The next attack was by a smaller force, Nzgali only, the regular soldiers confined to the perimeter. They came in armoured cars, charging through the gates on three sides of the compound.

  “Can we play with the big guns now?” Wall asked.

  “Yes, keep the pods down,” Price said. “They’re waiting for them.”

  Teams with rocket launchers were creeping in behind the armoured cars, trying to identify the sites of the pop-up machine guns.

  “Hit the vehicles as soon as they’re within range,” Price said.

  “No, wait,” Wall said. “Those cars are heavily armoured. But when they reach the building the sides will drop to become ramps for the assault troops.”

  “Okay, wait for the ramps,” Price said.

  She armed her first Bofors gun, and somewhere in a dusty garret, a heavy metal screen drew back and the long snout of the automatic cannon protruded.

  Six of the armoured cars skidded to a halt at the building’s main entrance. The sides dropped and suddenly Nzgali were everywhere.

  “Now!” Price shouted and the crack, crack, crack of the huge guns filled the air, shaking the walls of the safe room.

  The results were devastating.

  Even if the armoured walls had been up, Price doubted they could have withstood the volume of fire that encased each of the armoured cars. With the walls down, the vehicles disappeared in a teeth-shaking series of explosions and balls of flame as their fuel tanks ignited.

  “Pods!” Price shouted. “And turn the Bofors on the rocket teams.”

  The Nzgali, thrown to the ground by the force of the explosions, were just starting to pick themselves up when the machine guns started. Even the finest troops of the Bzadian army could not cope with the smoke, the firing of the guns, the shock and disorganisation. They broke and ran for their lives. Those on the ground stayed there.

  Price saw a rocket team lining up on one of the pods and switched to her second Bofors, which had a clearer angle at them. She aimed just in front of the team and hit the firing button. Dirt and lawn erupted, scattering the soldiers like tenpins.

  Another team, another burst from the Bofors, and the rocket teams were in full retreat also.

  “Run like the wind, mother-shippers!” Wall yelled, standing and punching the air.

  “Next time it will be tanks,” Barnard said.

  “Not as long as they think Azoh is in here,” Price said. “And Azoh-zu as well.”

  She glanced around. “Where the hell is Azoh-zu?”

  The boy was no longer in his seat. In the middle of the excitement, perhaps scared by the gunfire, he had disappeared back into the tunnel.

  “Dammit,” Price cried. But there was nothing she could do about that now. She readied herself for the next assault.

  “Azoh!” Dequorz cried. “They just took out our last Dragon!”

  Eighteen Razers and seven Dragons had already been destroyed without the loss of any of the intruders.

  “Pull back the remaining fighters,” Kriz said. “Get them out of there!”

  “And leave the capital defenceless?” Dequorz asked, horrified.

  “We are defenceless already against these new jets,” Kriz said. “It is suicide sending in more planes. Wait for the reinforcements to arrive from Amberley, then attack en masse. Their planes are small; they must have a limited supply of missiles.”

  Kriz looked up at the giant screen that was their video link to the council chamber. A heated debate was underway.

  “Report from the communications centre,” Dequorz said. “The tanks are in position and awaiting orders to move in.”

  “Hold them there,” Kriz said, still staring at the video screen.

  Field Marshall Leozii was standing in the centre of the chamber. “Human warplanes fly with impunity over our heads, while our mighty Dragons fall from the sky,” he was saying. “We can no longer defend the capital. In fact we can no longer guarantee to defend any Bzadian city or base. We have nothing to match these new jets. This war is now lost, unless we take action.”

  “We came to this planet to make a home for our people,” a councillor said. “Not to destroy its inhabitants.”

  “Yet the natives will wipe us out, if we don’t take direct action,” Leozii said. “We came offering friendship and new technologies. They spurned us, tried to quarantine us, and now they try to kill us.”

  Another councillor spoke up, a female, completely bald, the oldest of all the councillors. “Leozii is right. For all our best intentions, it has come down to us or them. There is no room for both species on this planet.”

  Kriz’s radio buzzed with an urgent message. She answered without taking her eyes off the screen. It was Jazki.

  “Azoh is no longer at the communications centre,” the young captain said.

  “You are sure?” Kriz asked.

  “I have a flybot following her, with two of the infiltrators, along a tunnel that leads away from the building,” Jazki said.

  “What about Azoh-zu?” Kriz asked.

  “There is no sign of him,” Jazki said. “No, wait! He just passed through the tunnel in front of us.”

  “I will be right there,” Kriz said.

  She turned back to Dequorz. “The tanks can commence their assault. Azoh and Azoh-zu are no longer in the building. I have to get back to the tunnel. Inform me of any developments.”

  Dequorz nodded.

  As Kriz left, she glanced again at the video link to the High Council chamber. A vote was being held: whether or not to use the positronium weapons. She did not wait to see the result.

  Once they passed the vote – and it would pass –the last human territories would be only a few minutes from total annihilation.

  “Tanks moving up on the south side,” Wall yelled. “Time we were Oscar Mike.”

  “They won’t fire,” Price said. “They still think Azoh is in here.”

  Almost immediately the sound of the tank’s main gun, resounding distantly through the walls of the room, proved her wrong. On the video screen there was a flash from the tank’s muzzle then the image disappeared into grainy static.

  The whole building shook and all the lights flickered. The video screens went blank for a few seconds before recovering.

  “What the hell?” Wall shouted. He touched his firing button and on the remaining screens they saw the tank light up like a Christmas tree as the forty-millimetre shells exploded uselessly on its spinning hull. The tank’s gun traversed and lifted then fired. There
was an explosion somewhere overhead and the boom-boom-boom of the Bofors stopped.

  “Leave it,” Price shouted. “We are out of here!” She followed the others, running for the tunnel entrance. Monster swung the heavy door back into place behind them.

  “What now?” Wall asked.

  “I don’t know,” Price admitted. “Try to link up with the others.”

  “How are we going to do that without radio contact?” Wall asked.

  Barnard had already reached the base of the stairs. She stopped running, skidding to a halt on a loose patch of stones. The beam of her helmet flashlight lurched around the walls as she regained her balance.

  The others stopped too, looking back at her.

  “No radios,” she said.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Price said. “The radios can’t work through solid rock. I …”

  She trailed off, looking at Barnard who was staring back at her, open mouthed.

  “What is it?” Price asked.

  “I am so stupid,” Barnard said.

  “What are you talking about?” Price asked.

  “No radio contact. How are they going to detonate the positronium bombs?”

  “I don’t know,” Price said.

  “They can’t set them off by radio,” Barnard said. “They are too far away for that. Even Chukchi is out of radio range. They don’t have satellites. So how are they going to detonate the bombs from here?”

  “Maybe the Fezerkers set them off. Suicide bombers,” Wall said.

  “I thought they caught all the Fezerkers,” Price said.

  “Maybe there are more,” Wall said.

  “Even if that’s true, they’d still need to contact the Fezerkers,” Barnard said.

  “So how do they set off the bombs?” Price asked.

  “I can only think of one way,” Barnard said. “We have to get back to the embassy, now!”

  REDEMPTION

  [1110 HOURS LOCAL TIME]

  [OLD PARLIAMENT HOUSE, CANBERRA]

  Nokz’z looked again to the ceiling as another series of explosions rocked the world above. The ceiling shook and dust filtered down between the cracks, but the explosions were too distant to do any damage. So far. He did not feel in direct danger. They were in the basement, a safe enough place unless the humans directly targeted the building. And what interest would they have in blowing up a load of dusty old relics?

  A sound drew his eyes back to the wall, and a section that looked solid suddenly shifted. What had been an almost invisible seam grew darker and larger, as though a pencil line had been overdrawn with a thick black pen. Without speaking, Nokz’z and his Vaza moved to that wall, flattening themselves against it. The hidden doorway opened further and a head came through, taking a quick glance around, checking out the room but not seeing the two shapes, hidden by the half-open door.

  The door opened further and a combat-suited figure stepped through, a female, followed by a male in the uniform of a Bzadian general, both Angels for sure. Then came the flowing blue robes of Azoh. She did not appear to be resisting her abductors.

  Moving as one, Nokz’z and his Vaza stepped up behind the two Angels and kicked simultaneously at the back of their knees. Both Angels went down, face first on the ground, arms flailing, and before they could hit the release buttons for their coil-guns, or grab at their side-arms, Nokz’z and the Vaza were standing over them, weapons pressed against the backs of their necks.

  “Unclip your weapons,” Nokz’z said.

  The Angel in combat armour complied, reaching up over her back to disconnect her coil-gun. The one in the general’s uniform took out his side-arm. The Vaza kicked the weapons out of reach.

  “Stay facedown,” Nokz’z said, as one of the Angels made to roll over.

  Azoh stood quietly to one side, apparently neither concerned nor pleased by what had just happened.

  “Colonel Nokz’z,” Azoh said.

  “Azoh,” Nokz’z said, lowering his eyes and bowing his head to hide an expression of exuberance.

  Against all odds, on the verge of defeat, he, Nokz’z, had done it. He had rescued Azoh from the clutches of the enemy. He had saved her. He would be a living hero for all Bzadians. Senior command would have no choice but to reinstate him. He was redeemed.

  And then, he was not.

  “Release these soldiers,” Azoh said. “And help us get to the High Council. It is extremely urgent.”

  “Azoh, they are dangerous enemy agents,” Nokz’z said. “You are safe now. I will escort you to the council chamber, while my Vaza deals with your captors.”

  “These are not my captors,” Azoh said.

  “Surely–” Nokz’z started.

  “They are working with me to stop a terrible mistake,” Azoh said.

  “A mistake, Azoh?” Nokz’z asked. His headache was coming back in nausea-inducing waves.

  “The High Council is about to authorise the destruction of the human territories,” Azoh said. “It must be stopped. I believe we can negotiate a peaceful end to this war.”

  One of the Angels spoke, lifting his face off the floor. “Colonel Nokz’z, we can stop this war right now, and end the killing and the suffering.”

  It was the one called Chizna. Nokz’z smiled briefly to conceal a sudden flame of anger. Azoh was working with Chizna?

  “Colonel Nokz’z, these humans will not harm me or you,” Azoh said. “Please lower your weapons and escort us quickly to the Congress.”

  “You believe we can end this war?” Nokz’z asked. “And negotiate for peace?”

  “I know this to be true,” Azoh said.

  “Azoh, your wisdom is beyond question, but these are humans,” Nokz’z said. “A violent, savage sub-species. One step from wild animals. They cannot be trusted.”

  “And yet we must trust them, if we are to live together peacefully on this planet.”

  “Live together peacefully,” Nokz’z repeated the words.

  “Yes.”

  “The High Council will never agree to this,” Nokz’z said.

  “They will when they hear what I have to say,” Azoh said.

  There was a hole at the top of the rock pile when Kriz arrived. A shout came from one of the soldiers and a large boulder crunched down the slope amid an avalanche of smaller stones. Kriz stepped quickly to the side as the boulder smashed into the wall, right where she had been standing.

  What had been a hole large enough to put an arm through was now large enough to climb through.

  She scrambled up the pile of rocks, which shifted and skittered under her hands and feet.

  “Second squad to the left!” Jazki ordered, right at her heels. “First squad, follow me!”

  Kriz stumbled down the loose rocks in the darkness on the other side. Flashlights came on all around her as the Nzgali followed. Then she was in the tunnel, and running.

  Nokz’z stared at Azoh, then at the Angels, scumbugz, the enemy who travelled with her. His head throbbed and his eyes shifted in and out of focus. But an extraordinary calmness came over him. A clarity of mind and of purpose.

  There could be only one solution.

  One solution that would outrage the High Council and all Bzadians. That would make Bzadia seek vengeance, until the last human was eradicated from this planet. That would elevate him back to the status he deserved.

  And the best part was that the Angels would take the blame.

  “What are you waiting for?” Azoh asked.

  There was no going back now, there couldn’t be.

  He was barely conscious of his own finger pulling the trigger.

  The sudden flutter of the blue robes was something that Nokz’z watched dimly, faded into insignificance by the dark curtain that seemed to have been drawn across behind his eyes. The only sound he could hear was a roaring in his ears as though a great wind had blown into the room. Even the gunshot was barely audible through the sound. He observed with interest, not emotion, as Azoh’s body jerked backwards, her hands twitching
towards her heart, before going limp, as did her face and her legs.

  He saw one of the Angels trying to rise and being viciously kicked back down.

  Then Azoh fell, no longer a living being, but a lifeless collection of body parts, her ceremonial robes a funeral shroud.

  And then the screaming started. In a daze he turned towards the tunnel entrance as a small figure in black robes launched itself at him, scratching and biting, and the gun in his hand sounded once again.

  “Contact front!” Wall shouted.

  Bullets kicked chips of stone from the walls around them.

  Price dived behind a large boulder embedded in the wall of the tunnel. The others dropped to the floor.

  “I don’t have a shot!” Barnard yelled.

  “Frag out,” Monster shouted, hurling a grenade down the tunnel. It exploded with an ear-shattering boom and a sheet of flame and heat washed over them.

  “Suppressing fire!” Price shouted. “Smoke grenades! Fall back!”

  The tunnel quickly filled with a choking fog.

  A bullet glanced off Price’s helmet, knocking her backwards, dazed but uninjured.

  “Now! Move it!” she shouted, picking herself up from the floor.

  There was blood on Nokz’z hands and on his clothes, but his mind was clear. The red haze had lifted and he knew exactly what he was doing as he emptied the cartridge of his side-arm, before stepping over the body on the floor in front of him and pressing the weapon into the reluctant hand of one of the Angels. She was screaming, struggling to get up, but unable to do so with the heavy boot of the Vaza pressed firmly on her spine.

  He registered every detail of the shocked face of his Vaza as he turned calmly towards her.

  “The Angels will take the blame,” Nokz’z said. “The scumbugz, the murderers of Azoh and Azoh-zu. But we will avenge her death.”