The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  The image cycled again, this time showing a woman running. In pursuit behind her was a figure clad entirely in black. One of the invading soldiers. Their head was covered by a full black helmet, shielding the view of their face. Though the woman appeared to be running for all her worth, the soldier chasing after her was moving fast. Very fast. From their build – a thick torso, with large muscles on their arms and legs – it looked to be a man. He caught up with the woman in mere seconds, his stride and speed easily outstripping that of his quarry. He stretched out a hand and grabbed hold of her arm, yanking her to a halt. Dodds caught a short glimpse of the look of sheer terror on the woman’s face as she was spun around to meet her opponent. Though she struggled against him, the man was far taller and considerably stronger than she was. It was like watching a fully-grown man tackling a child.

  The soldier’s hands closed around her head, and in one quick movement her neck was broken. He performed the action with considerable ease, as though he was snapping nothing but a dry twig. The solider let the woman’s body slide to the floor, the ruby-red eyes of the helmet watching her limp form crumble down for but a scant few moments before he set off again, stepping over her body, in search of his next target.

  The feed cycled once more. This time, the scene was that of a battle within a slightly larger area of the ship, a control room of some sort. There, personnel were once again fighting a losing battle against the unstoppable invaders. Men and women were taking cover behind walls, consoles and other equipment, whilst attempting to return fire. One of the black-suited soldiers was sprawled out on the floor, looking to have been gunned down. As the display continued to relay the feed of the fight, the soldier began to get back to their feet, quickly snatching up the weapon that had tumbled from their grasp as they had been downed. They moved as if they had merely tripped, rather than having incurred multiple gunshot wounds.

  Dodds saw two of the carrier’s crew exchange looks of exasperation and began shouting to others that couldn’t be seen. There was no audio, but Dodds didn’t need it to know the thoughts and words of the people in that room – “Why isn’t he dead?”, “He’s getting back up!”, “Why won’t they stay down?”, “Keep shooting them! You only wounded him!”, “There was blood! I saw them bleed!”

  The images did nothing to ease his discomfort of their shared predicament.

  He turned around to his companions, to see Enrique, Estelle, Kelly and Chaz all watching the same feed as he. Estelle looked as serious and determined as always, though Dodds knew that that was just a mask she practised well. Her eyes would often betray her true feelings, as they did so now. Kelly, on the other hand, had the telltale signs of distress written all over her face. Beside her stood Enrique, who may have been as calm as Estelle and Dodds himself, had he not clearly been concerned for Kelly’s well-being. Chaz caught Dodds’ eye and Dodds once again saw that unsettling look – one of deep concern.

  Dodds turned back to the front, as Hail bounded back over.

  “We don’t have much time,” Hail started, raising his voice over the sound of the wailing alerts. “It should be very clear to you by now that Ifrit’s situation is dire – we have been boarded by a large Enemy force; been pushed out of jump, far from our intended destination; and now find ourselves totally outgunned and outnumbered by the Enemy’s naval presence.”

  In the face of what was happening to his ship, Hail was speaking very calmly. Though Dodds couldn’t help but feel he was hiding his true feelings well.

  “Captain,” Estelle said. “I’m confident that with the ATAFs we could hold back the Imperial attackers, long enough for help to arrive.”

  Hail held up a hand and shook his head, to prevent Estelle from saying any more. “That’s a valiant suggestion, Commander, but far too risky in Ifrit’s current state. My mission priorities also forbid it.” Estelle moved to speak once more, but Hail raised his own voice, apparently not willing to entertain any more of the woman’s proposals. “When I was assigned to this mission, I was told that there were two things on this carrier that were far more important than anything else – the ATAFs and the lives of the White Knights. Should anything untoward happen during the course of the operation, I was to ensure the safety of those things above all else. These orders come directly from Fleet Admiral Jenkins herself. Given the current circumstances, I will first ensure that you five are able to safely reach the escape pods, before issuing the general call to abandon ship.”

  “Sir—” Estelle gaped.

  “Ifrit’s security chief and his team will ensure that you are able to reach the escape pods unhindered. They are currently working to ensure you have a clear route there.”

  “What’s our destination?” Estelle said, taking her eyes off the ship’s captain and looking to the battle ahead of them. “How are the CSN going to effect pick-up?”

  Dodds agreed with her concern. They were going to jettison escape pods in the middle of this? They would be sitting ducks! They would have little in the way of manoeuvrability and the pods obviously lacked any sort of defensive or offensive capability. As far as he knew, they didn’t even have energy shields. He once more looked past Hail, to the growing form of Mythos and suddenly realised the captain’s intent.

  Hail said, “You’re not going to await pick-up here, Commander. You’re going to make the journey down to Mythos and wait for the CSN to come get you. Your destination is a beach on the east coast of Sherland, not far from the city of New Malaga.” He turned and gestured to the large landmass that was almost central in the viewport. “I have instructed that we be taken into low orbit over the planet, so that you can escape into the atmosphere as quickly as possible. It should prevent the Imperial fighters from giving chase.”

  “What about the ATAFs?” Estelle said.

  Yes, what about the ATAFs? Dodds thought. At the time, Dodds had assumed the reason the five had been summoned to the bridge was to initiate a counter offensive with the fighter craft, just as they had done months earlier when faced with a similar situation.

  “They will be securely sealed in the cargo hold,” Hail said. “My intent is to ditch Ifrit in the Tanis Sea, just east of Sherland; the continent you are heading for. With any luck, it should mean that the ATAFs can be retrieved by the CSN before the Enemy can get to them. A distress signal has already been broadcast and should reach naval headquarters within the hour. They will affect both your own rescue and the salvage operation for the ATAFs.”

  “And Ifrit?” Dodds said, though he felt he knew the answer to the question even before he’d asked it.

  “The carrier is lost,” Hail shook his head once more. “It is better that I now try and save as many of the lives of the crew as possible, rather than lose them all. Now, we must hurry! There is no time for any more questions!” He looked past the Knights. “Mr Cole?”

  “Sir,” a man came striding up to join the six.

  “Is the route clear?”

  “Quite literally just this minute, sir.”

  “Good. You and your team will escort the White Knights to the escape pods, for immediate departure. You are to avoid all contact with hostile forces wherever possible and head directly to the surface. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “Good,” Hail said. “Now go; all of you!”

  *

  From bridge, to lift, to command deck, to a second lift, the way was as clear as Cole had promised his security team would make it. The escaping party was now made up of eleven – the five Knights; five security personnel, one assigned as bodyguard to each pilot; and Cole himself. The men and women crammed themselves into the lift car, Cole allowing everyone else in before entering himself.

  Dodds looked over his fellow team-mates. The expressions of concern still remained on each of their faces. He recalled the last time he had seen such collective distress – when they had been fleeing Arlos starport. The driving force back then had been the presence of six heavily armed soldiers, not unlike the ones that now littered t
he interior of the ship. The image of those uniforms and helmets was forever burned into his mind. Dressed entirely in black, there was little else in the way of colour, save for two somewhat extrinsic white insignias on their left breast and right upper arm, as well as a pair of piercing, ruby-red eyes. He was sure he had heard the soldiers given a name at one time, too. What had they been called? A strange moniker; it escaped him.

  He wondered how Estelle was feeling, and looked past the tight huddle to where she was almost jammed into the corner. In times such as these, he knew her to start becoming quite pensive and begin drawing breath far quicker than normal. It was something he knew was attributed to her character, rather than any kind of medical condition. Oddly, however, she appeared far calmer than he was expecting; calmer now than she had looked back up on the bridge. She looked more relaxed and focused, her eyes no longer betraying any sense of distress that she might have been feeling.

  He wondered what had changed. Had she gone to her happy place? Was she simply performing some sort of breathing exercise, to help keep herself steady? Dodds had never known her to be one to believe in either of those kinds of things. He noticed her cup her hand over something in her jacket, feeling its shape. It looked as though she was checking that something was still there. Her eyes met his, but she made no other gesture.

  The communicator that Cole clutched tight in his hand suddenly squawked. “Captain, it’s López here! We need to make a slight alteration to the original route!” The voice was accompanied by background noise that sounded like a mixture of gunfire and the shouts of others.

  Cole pulled back from the lift control he was about to activate and raised the communicator. “What’s the problem?”

  “We’ve had to bring down more fire doors to hold the boarders off! They’re going nuts with the cutters down here! It means we’ve had to seal off the most direct route to the escape pods. It’s still possible to—” The voice was lost in a sudden explosion of white noise.

  “López, you’re breaking up!” Cole raised his voice. “Repeat your previous transmission!”

  The communicator spat nothing but an indecipherable jumble of static and the odd barely recognisable word.

  “López, are you there? López!”

  No answer.

  Cole swore and punched the lift controls. “Change of plan,” he said, glancing around the group. “We’re going to head to the sled bay instead. You’ve all had sled training, right?”

  A general look of unease flickered across the faces of his security team.

  Cole looked from one member to the next, as the lift began its rapid descent. “Okay, who here hasn’t had sled training?”

  All of the security team raised their hands.

  Cole looked exasperated. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

  “We’ll pilot the sleds,” Estelle said, nodding to the Knights. “We’ll rendezvous on the coast, as originally planned, and regroup once we’ve landed. Each of us will pair up with one of your team and guide us down to the surface.”

  Estelle’s voice was calm, yet determined, and Dodds found himself wishing that she would share the secret of her solace since leaving the bridge.

  “An excellent plan, Commander,” Cole nodded.

  “It does mean that we can expect to come down at different times and points,” Estelle added.

  “In that case, you should all have weapons in case we get separated and you need to defend yourselves, once we put down on the surface,” Cole said. He signalled to his team. “Give them your spares.”

  The five men did as they were ordered, unstrapped weapons and handing them to each of the Knights. Dodds reached out to take the proffered pistol, when another hand knocked his away. Estelle fixed him with a serious look.

  “Not for him,” she said to Cole.

  Dodds stared back at her incredulously. “Estelle, I’m not going to shoot anyone by mistake.”

  “Sorry, Dodds, I don’t want to risk it.”

  “What’s the problem?” Cole said.

  “It’s noth—”

  “Lieutenant Dodds was involved in a gunfire accident one year ago; two civilians lost their lives,” Estelle interrupted. “I think it’s best he remains unarmed.”

  “Estelle—”

  “No,” Estelle said.

  Dodds looked to Enrique and Chaz. Enrique gave a small shrug. Chaz said nothing, his expression unreadable.

  “Are you sure, Commander?” Cole said.

  “Positive,” Estelle said.

  “Fine. Adams, looks like you’ll be shooting for two.”

  The lift continued its descent, and less than a minute later the doors parted, revealing a short, dark corridor. At the other end lay the entrance to another lift, above which, in dark red letters, glowed the words “Sled Bay”. The doors were already open, the lift car waiting for them to enter.

  Cole pointed. “Let’s go.” The occupants of the lift spilled out and began to make their way swiftly across the short distance between the two cars.

  What happened next, Dodds could not accurately describe. Whether it had been because of the sirens, the flashing red alert, or simply because he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, he couldn’t quite be sure. All he knew was that at one point he was keeping pace with the group and the next he had been knocked off his feet. An instant before the event, he had caught a glimpse of black, intermixed with greys and whites, and then he was hit in the side by what felt like a charging bull. His world tumbled about him, shapes and colours blurring and intermixing with one another. He caught fleeting images of legs carrying on past and then he hit the floor, rolling over backwards as he did so. He tried to get to his feet, but with his world still turning he only staggered backward, crashing into two figures behind him and returning once more to the floor.

  Looking up, he discovered the cause of his current predicament – two figures were grappling with one another. One was a member of Ifrit’s security, the other, one of the carrier’s many invaders. The pair were fighting over a weapon of some kind. It looked like a shotgun.

  “Dodds!” a voice called out.

  Dodds hunted around for the source of the voice, before – with shock – he regained his orientation. Whilst at first he believed the two fighting men to be behind him, he discovered them to actually be standing between him and the lift leading toward the sled bay. Beyond the tussling pair, he could see Cole and a number of the Knights’ escorts attempting to contain the group within the car. Enrique and Chaz were struggling against them, trying to get out, to get back to him.

  “Dodds! Get up! Come on!” Enrique cried out once again.

  Dodds heard something clatter to the floor. The shotgun that had been the object of the struggle between the black-suited solider and the security guard had fallen from both their grasps. It bounced and skirted along the floor, away from them. The solider ignored it and instead thrust out a gloved hand, gripping the security guard tightly around the throat. His victim began to choke and Dodds was certain that, even over the other noises that were flooding the corridor, he heard something crack. The grip was a strong one, he knew that all too well himself; certainly, the man’s feet were no longer fully rested on the floor.

  “Dodds!” Estelle, this time.

  Dodds pulled himself up and made to head to the lift, but the close by sounds of choking gave him pause. He saw himself escaping into the lift with his friends, doing nothing to help the security guard, and leaving the man to die. He couldn’t bring himself to do that.

  “No! Leave him!” Cole shouted, as if sensing his intentions. “He’s none of your concern!”

  The security guard’s eyes flickered to Dodds, seeming to suggest he follow Cole’s suggestion and get away while he still could. Reluctantly, Dodds agreed, starting forward. At the same time, the black-suited solider released his grip on his victim’s throat, letting the man slide choking and spluttering to the floor, turning to meet Dodds’ approach. An instant later, the solider grabbed hold of h
im.

  Dodds had no choice now; he’d have to fight. Or at least try. The solider was fully armoured, wearing the heavy and hard-looking suit that he knew was actually composed of thick leather. Striking that with his bare fists would do nothing. Equally, with it still protected by the all-encompassing helmet, attempting any blow to the head wasn’t an option. Dodds wasn’t altogether sure of how he could tackle his opponent. And as his mind raced to filter his options and come up with a workable solution, his adversary effortlessly flipped him over, utilizing the inhuman strength Dodds had experienced before.

  With a painful thud, Dodds found himself once more flat on his back. Should’ve gone for the gun! As he turned to look for it, he caught a flash of steel as the soldier withdrew what looked like a hunting knife from where it had been holstered about his leg. The solider twirled it around in one hand, pointing the blade down, preparing to plunge it into Dodds’ chest. Dodds tried to roll away, but found his opponent had already pinned him expertly, one knee pressing down hard on his chest.

  His thoughts went back to memories of the refugee at Arlos who’d had his jugular slit; of how the man had clutched at his throat, attempting to stem the rapid flow of blood that was gushing between his fingers and spilling into the corridor; of how his attacker’s knife had been red with his victim’s blood. Dodds was certain that the blade that now hovered before him was about to become stained thick with his own.

  The steel flew towards him—

  There were several bangs and the knife wavered. The wielder cried out in pain and turned to face the source of the explosions. Another bang came, their head snapping back as a bullet ricocheted off it, before several hits to the torso knocked them to the ground.

  As the soldier fell away, Dodds became aware of feet standing close by. At first, he expected to see Estelle. But looking up, he saw the stern face of a man clutching a pistol and staring intently at the body on the ground. The man emptied the remainder of his bullets into the body, before he ejected the spent clip and shoved in another. The speed at which he did so was something to behold, and Dodds couldn’t quite be sure what the driving factor was – talent, fear, or necessity. Given the circumstances, it was likely a combination of all three.