The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  “Where do you think everyone-” she started to say to Chaz, when the big man stopped walking and stretched his arm out in front of her.

  “Wait, wait, wait! Hold up!” he said in a near-whisper, pointing further down the road in the direction they had been walking.

  The road continued on towards a crossroads, in the middle of which lay a huge crush of cars. Looking more carefully, however, Estelle could make out several maroon hues peeking out at them. Four triangular shapes were aligned together, to form another, larger one. It pointed downward, forming an insignia that was all too familiar. What she had at first believed to be some sort of emergency vehicle was, in fact, an Imperial transport vessel.

  “… And that’s why we need to keep quiet,” Chaz whispered, pushing Estelle back, not taking his eyes off the craft ahead of them. “Back the other way and keep low.”

  The two crouched down and started back once more towards the main street, concealing themselves behind the abandoned vehicles as they went. Returning to the obstructed street, they took stock of the mass of steel and masonry that stood in their path. At first, it appeared insurmountable, there looking to be no clear way of ascending the remains of whatever this had once been and getting to the other side. And, even if they did, there was no evidence that the path would be any clearer on the other side.

  They had just agreed on the best way to tackle it, when a thunderous crack came from the sky above, causing the pair to flatten themselves up against what remained of a nearby wall. High above, three triangular shapes hurtled by, gone almost within the same instant they had appeared. They were heading north, towards the giant plumes of smoke.

  “UNF fighters,” Estelle said, catching a fleeting glimpse of the configurations and colour schemes.

  “Want to know where everyone is?” Chaz said, leaving the wall and starting to climb the rubble. “Just follow them.”

  *

  After considerable effort, Estelle and Chaz succeeded in traversing the enormous mounds of rubble that had blocked their path, and were once again wandering down the streets of what remained of New Malaga’s business district. This side of the rubble appeared no less deserted than the one they had just come from, although Estelle was certain that, since arriving, she had caught the occasional glimpse of frightened faces in windows.

  As well as smashed vehicles, abandoned shoes, wallets, bags and other personal belongings, the road was marred with craters, and the walls of the buildings were scored with bullet holes and scorched by energy weapons. Though there appeared to be fewer bodies here than they had passed in the park and the other side of the mound, they were no less prominent.

  The two walked close to the sides of the street, avoiding the middle of the road that was, as always, clogged with vehicles. Estelle looked about herself, up the high sides of towers, stretching up towards the bright blue skies, and wondered just how safe they truly were. She swore she could hear the faint tumble of stone somewhere nearby. Could one of these buildings be about to crash down on top of them? One that she now gazed upon looked as though it had been hit by a rocket, a great hole torn in the middle of it, exposing the floors and leaving the outer structural parts to dangle. Some way behind them, another was leaning in a particularly unsettling manner, propped up by a taller structure it had fallen against. It would certainly be coming down soon.

  Estelle was exhausted. The climb had left her parched and her body was bathed in sweat from the heat of the afternoon sun. Her mouth felt as dry as a desert. She could do with a nice cold drink of water, but knew they couldn’t deviate from their route to search for it. Chaz looked to be suffering the same as herself. He had pulled off his jacket and was now carrying it under his arm. Great damp patches of sweat now covered most of his back and upper chest.

  “How much longer do you think until we reach the coast?” Estelle panted.

  “Do I look like a map?” Chaz said, sweat dripping from his forehead.

  Well, you seem to know a hell of a lot of other stuff, Estelle thought bitterly to herself. She was still not sure she totally trusted the man. Even now, he was far too closed, and his attitude was beginning to get her back up.

  They passed a tall building, whose grounds were surrounded by well-maintained lawns and non-working fountains. A scattering of many personal belongings left a trail up a large, semicircular stairway, leading up to the main doors.

  Estelle stopped walking, reading the sign that stood outside.

  Cielo

  She was certain she had seen that name somewhere before. But where? Then it came to her – this was a television studio. A quick glance around revealed that which she had missed earlier – a broadcast pole, albeit one that had suffered much damage. She backed away, looking upward, towards the roof. Though she couldn’t see them, she was certain that somewhere up there would be a number of satellite dishes.

  “Chaz,” she called to the big man, who had advanced a way down the street on his own. He winced visibly and spun around with a pained expression on his face, gesturing for her to keep her voice down.

  “What?” he mouthed.

  She waved him over. “Isn’t that a TV studio or some kind of broadcast house?” she said.

  Chaz glanced at the sign and nodded.

  “There might be some way in there for us to send a message to the Confederacy or contact local forces. We might even be able to use it to establish contact with the others.”

  Chaz cast a sceptical eye about the grounds. “Even if they had the means, it’s doubtful they’d have power to the systems. Let’s keep moving.”

  “No,” Estelle said. “We’ve got to at least give it a shot.”

  “I don’t—”

  “We’re going in, Lieutenant,” Estelle cut in before the man could begin his objection. She added nothing more, allowing the look she presented to tell him that this was an order and not a request. Chaz glowered for a moment and then started off up the steps, towards the main doors. Estelle took a few deep breathes and then started after him. Right now, confrontation with her team-mates was not what she needed, especially with Chaz.

  Midway up the steps, she looked back around and thought she saw someone, or something, run across the opposite side of the road, between the packed rows of cars. She lingered a little longer, saw a face pop out and then dart out of view again. No, the city wasn’t as deserted as it first appeared, but that was clearly the impression that anyone surviving wished it to convey.

  Estelle carried on up the steps and walked through the front doors, into the reception.

  *

  The broadcast room was spread out over the fourth and fifth floors of the building, in a massive open plan office. The lifts had refused to respond to call requests from the reception, forcing Estelle and Chaz to use the stairwells. Much like the rest of the city, the broadcast rooms appeared to have been deserted, with chairs, bins and many personal effects left scattered haphazardly at desks and across the floor.

  Together, Estelle and Chaz began to search for a way to utilize the equipment, to send out a message. To their dismay, however, they discovered that all the computer terminals had automatically locked themselves down into a restricted access mode. After several attempts at circumventing the authentication systems, they decided that their only choice was to travel to the top floor and attempt to directly access the mainframes from there.

  Just as they had done before, the lifts refused to respond to any call requests, no matter how many times they pushed the buttons. In the end, they were forced to begin a tedious climb to the top – a journey of sixty-odd floors and nearly eight hundred feet. Several times on the way up, they stopped climbing, pressing themselves up against the walls and keeping quiet as they heard doors opening and closing. They hadn’t assumed that the building would be totally empty; it could still be occupied by almost anyone – staff, who hadn’t fled; local military forces or law enforcement teams, who may have had the same idea as they; or crazed and terrified people, who had sought shelter w
ithin its walls. All of these, they knew, they might need to defend themselves against. Though should they have found themselves being pursued by a number of black-clad soldiers, their meagre armament of a pair of plasma pistols wouldn’t go very far to protect them.

  Despite their lengthy and cautious ascent, they saw no sign of whoever else might be in the building with them, though they agreed that a handful of people must still be concealing themselves about its many floors, living off supplies that were on offer, and electing not to emerge until the danger had passed.

  Estelle couldn’t help thinking they would be waiting a very long time.

  *

  Finally, they reached their destination and emerged into a wide corridor, a tall, plate glass door at one end. A signpost before it warned them that access to the floor was restricted to authorised personnel only.

  Chaz gave the door handle a firm tug. “Locked,” he said, as the door refused to budge.

  Estelle unscrewed the top of the bottle of water she had taken from one of the employee’s desks, taking a drink. The bottle had been near-full when she had picked it up and she had consumed more than half of it right there and then. Chaz had gone through all of his own, casting the empty aside and taking another with him. There had been plenty of bottles in the broadcast room, and Estelle found herself grateful that office workers kept a regular supply of water with them, throughout the day.

  Her thirst sated, she nodded to the swipe card scanner that resided on the wall. “Someone might have left an access card on another floor.”

  Chaz looked back at the stairwell and shook his head. “We’d end up having to try dozens of cards before we found one that worked.” He looked about, to where a plant pot lay on its side, opposite the lift door, soil, leaves and stems having been trodden into the carpet. “And I’ve got a better idea.” He returned to the lift area and picked up the overturned plant pot, hefting it over his shoulders.

  “Careful,” Estelle said.

  “Just stand back,” Chaz said, before taking a short run up and hurling the pot towards the door. The pot crashed straight through, shattering the tall pane and spraying shards of glass inward. The pane appeared to have been constructed from safety glass, breaking into hundreds of tiny pieces as it was fractured, allowing the two to step through the doorway without fear of being impaled by large dangling pieces.

  Chaz swore as an alarm started ringing. “That’ll make it harder to hear anyone sneaking up on us. Keep yourself out of direct line of sight.”

  Estelle frowned; he was giving her orders now. Chaz caught the look she gave him, but ignored her and started forward to investigate the rest of the floor. Estelle considered the floor space. Unlike the other floors they had visited, this one had been designed to be compact, with only a pocket-sized area given over to staff. A small number of desks and computer terminals, numbering no more than twenty seats at most, stood in blocks of four. One monitor was clearly not enough for the job the staff had to perform here, each desk adorned by at least three screens, in some cases as many as six. The lack of other office equipment – printers, vending machines, personal offices and conference rooms – suggested that these terminals had been used by systems engineers. Perfect.

  The remainder of the room was segregated from the space the workforce occupied by a set of locked doors and another wall of plate glass windows. Beyond the windows, a number of racks were stacked floor to ceiling, within which resided a great array of electronic equipment. Multicoloured LEDs blinked at varying speeds and strengths.

  “Think we need to go through there, too?” Estelle said, nodding in its direction.

  “No, that looks like a server room,” Chaz said. “Everything we need will be in here.” The big man checked each terminal, one after another, until he discovered one that had been left unsecured, whereupon he began tapping away at the keyboard.

  Estelle did nothing but observe over his shoulder for a time, watching him attempt to navigate his way around various screens of information. It didn’t appear as though he was meeting with much success. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked after a while.

  Chaz ignored her, continuing to tap at the screen and the keyboard.

  “Enrique told me that you managed to hook into the Merekat’s comms from the Ray’s onboard systems,” Estelle added, largely to try and get a feel for the task that lay before them.

  Chaz stopped typing. “Yes, but that was a system that I’d had months of experience with,” he said. “This will take a little more time, if it’s going to be possible at all.” He turned away and continued to read the screen and work at the keyboard.

  Estelle decided to leave him alone to work and started to investigate the control room, eventually making her way to the windows. From where she stood, almost at the very top of the building, she could see the cityscape stretching out before her. It looked a great deal worse from here than it had done on the ground, where her surroundings had hidden the true extent of the ruination.

  Looking over what now remained of the business district, she could imagine what it must’ve been like for all those workers when the Imperial transports had touched down …

  *

  Throughout those buildings, office workers went about their various jobs – trading, preparing presentations, fixing problems with computer software, and printing off documents they would need for meetings. Some worked diligently, so focused on the numbers, tables, graphs and charts on the screen that they were oblivious to anything that went on around them. Not even the din of those shouting up and down the office, nor the noise from the vid-phone speaker next to them was enough to create a distraction.

  Others had a more casual approach to their work, pausing every now and again during their day to arrange socials with their friends. They would wander over to the tall windows, to gaze at the clear blue skies outside, dreaming of what they would do over the weekend. They might even consider calling in sick on Friday. They were the first to catch a glimpse of the Imperial transports, high in the skies above them, and had watched as they started to sweep down among the city streets.

  As the number of vessels increased, more of their fellow co-workers were attracted to the windows. At first, the sight was little different to one of those rare days when they would see a huge, low flying freighter come floating over the rooftops. Such sights would often offer a whimsical distraction in an otherwise routine day, and workers would watch them pass, drinking their coffee and pondering where they were going, what they were delivering, and to whom.

  But today it had been different, and as they had watched they had seen the maroon coloured beetle-like shapes of Imperial Scarab bombers lurking above. That was the first hint that something wasn’t right about what they were seeing.

  Then the rockets came.

  They left behind thin trails of smoke as they went, before throwing up angry red and yellow fiery hues as they smashed into the foundations of the buildings they had been targeting.

  The sight had seemed unreal to begin with. Had it really happened? Had it been an accident? Confirmation of the reality came as the screaming had started, and down on the streets below hundreds could already be seen pouring from buildings, running to escape. The rockets continued to fly, deafening explosions overcoming all other sounds, rocking the towers that they struck.

  Workers fled for the fire escapes, running down the stairs as fast as they could, even trying to clamber over those that blocked the already bustling stairwells. The streets themselves became almost as dangerous as the buildings that were being evacuated. Crowds of panicking individuals crashed into one another as they tried to reach cars, subways, monorails and any other means they could to escape the violence that had erupted around them.

  Imperial transports had set down on the roads, soldiers issuing from each. Dozens of them. Clad entirely in black suits and wearing black helmets, piercing ruby-red eyes sent as much terror through the crowds as the gunfire that followed. Clothes were shredded and blood was s
pilt as bullets, shotgun pellets, laser beams, plasma bolts and grenades tore into the residents of the city. No prisoners were taken and no lives were spared.

  What Estelle had been through on both Arlos and on Ifrit was nothing compared to what these people had suffered …

  *

  Estelle woke from her thoughts and looked away from where the plumes of smoke continued to rise in the distance. It was a bright summer’s day, maybe would have seemed even more so had the sun’s rays not been being filtered and obscured. Her gaze wandered to the beautiful blue sea that stretched out east.

  What a place to live. Was it like this all year round? Probably not. She could imagine that some people had it just right, living thirty minutes from the city and work; equally, only thirty minutes from the beach.

  The beach … The beach! For the first time since arriving here, she saw it. Yes, she had noticed it before, but she hadn’t seen it. She could well be mistaken, but she thought she could see the light blue, sleigh-like shape of a sled lying in the sand. And another in the shallows. Dodds! Enrique! Kelly! That was where they had put down. They might still be there. She had to hurry down there and find them. She looked out across the ocean once more, the waters stretching off to the horizon. Somewhere out there Ifrit lay under millions of tons of water; that is, if Hail had managed to ditch her in the sea as he had planned, and not crashed down, far off course as she and Chaz had done.

  There was a sudden clunking noise, followed by the dying whines of something winding down. The alarm had stopped ringing. Silence filled the air, broken only by the sound of Chaz swearing.

  Estelle spun around to see the screen of the terminal the big man had been working at was now blank. “What’s happened?”

  “Power’s gone,” Chaz said, not raising his eyes from the terminal as he attempted to coax it back into life. He gave up shortly after. “Good thing we weren’t in any of the lifts, or we’d be stuck there for good.” He turned around to her. “What the hell are you doing? Get the hell away from the windows!”