The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  Liu did as he ordered. And as he watched the TAFs and Rays continuing to depart Griffin and surge towards the enemy forces, Parks found himself looking forward to Sima Mandeep’s arrival. Though not so much because of the forces she would be bringing with her, but because Sima herself would be there.

  XIV

  — Entering the Kill Zone —

  The thud of cannons grew ever louder in Estelle’s ears, as did the sound of many different voices, all shouting. They came as a mixture of directed taunts, calls for assistance, medical requests, tactical suggestions, and cries of pain. She caught glimpses of bodies in the darkness – those of civilians and those that looked as if they must be the local military. It all painted a picture of a place she had hoped never to have found herself in. Nevertheless, she continued to run alongside Chaz and the rest of the group as they made their way to rejoin their comrades.

  She had first heard the sounds some twenty minutes earlier, when the build-up of abandoned vehicles clogging the road had forced them to vacate their own. The moment the engine had been shut off, the thumps had echoed down the corridors of the still-standing buildings towards them. Stafford had leapt out the back of their transport and urged the team onward, using a choice number of colourful phrases to motivate them into making the rest of the journey on foot. A short time later, they had encountered a handful of soldiers, holding position at a roadside. There, they had been told where Stafford might find his commanding officer – in Hunter’s Square. They had hastened toward it.

  Now entering into the square, Estelle could see a group of men and women hunkered down behind the remains of a large ruined wall. Each of them was helmeted and kitted out with numerous weapons and other pieces of equipment.

  “Brigadier,” Stafford called, as the six made their way across the rubble that made up much of their surroundings. The group by the wall looked up from what they had been doing and a man raised his hand, waving them over. Joining them and crouching down behind the wall, Estelle saw that the group had been studying a map of sound kind.

  The man who had waved them over looked quite surprised to see them. “Stafford,” he said, speaking loudly over the noise around them. “Thought you guys hadn’t made it.”

  “Almost didn’t,” Stafford said. “The Enemy ambushed us as we were falling back to regroup. I lost a good deal of my unit; we were the only ones to get away.”

  The brigadier’s eyes flickered across the group. “At least you four made it out. Good to see you’re still alive, Milligan. We have urgent need of your skills up here. You’ll be briefed momentarily.” The man’s eyes then passed to Estelle and Chaz, and he pointed towards the pair. “Made some new friends?”

  “We bumped into these two whilst we were making our way back,” Stafford said. “They were in the middle of some sort of domestic.”

  “This one here was about to blow the other one’s head off,” Thompson added, nodding towards Estelle.

  The brigadier eyed both Chaz and Estelle suspiciously for a moment. “Who are you? It’s pretty clear to me that neither of you are civilians.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Estelle de Winter, Confederation Stellar Navy,” Estelle answered. If either her rank or promptness at answering had impressed the brigadier or those with him, they hid it well, none so much as batting an eyelid or seeming to care for her purported authority and grandeur.

  “That one’s the talker,” Stafford added, pointing to Estelle.

  The brigadier nodded, maintaining the same stiff expression and looking to the big man by Estelle’s side. “You?”

  “Chaz Koonan,” he said simply. “And who might you be?”

  “And he’s the one with the attitude,” Thompson said.

  Chaz glared at her.

  Thompson returned it.

  “The name’s Potter; Brigadier General of the Mythos Territorial Guard, and the man charged with heading up this rabble against the Enemy,” he said. “So, CSN, eh? I hope you’re going to tell me that you kids have come here to bail us out.”

  Estelle shook her head and gave him a quick summary of the events leading up to her and Chaz becoming stranded on the planet.

  “So that was your ship we all saw come down,” Potter said. “It attracted more than just a little attention, I can tell you. So, if you’re not part of a rescue effort, what are you doing out here? Are you a part of the Confederation’s evacuation and clearance teams?”

  Evacuation and clearance teams? Estelle looked around at Chaz, who appeared just as clueless as she was. “Sorry, you’ve lost me, Brigadier. We were taking part in CSN Special Operations. We are currently awaiting rescue. Our captain issued an SOS just before we abandoned ship.”

  What looked like a flicker of recognition passed across Potter’s features. “I see. Well, don’t expect them to show up any time soon,” he said. “Just a minute,” he added, as one of his original company prompted him for instruction. He turned his attention back to the map, tapping it with his finger and drawing his group’s focus to what he was looking at. He spoke quickly, apparently carrying on from where he had left off. He traced a gloved finger over different parts of the paper, pointing beyond the wall at unseen locations, whilst telling those with him what he expected of them.

  Estelle looked up at the smoke that blanketed the sky, seeing how it had grown much thicker since she and Chaz had neared their destination. It now looked as though they were standing in the middle of a storm, overcast black and grey clouds replacing the once clear blue sky.

  The brigadier gave his final order, those who had been crouched down with him acknowledging his instructions, and hurrying off to their assigned duties. He then looked over to the six new arrivals. “Right, Milligan; we’ve got a couple of squads pinned down by enemy forces, two blocks west of here.” He jerked his thumb beyond the wall, towards a group of buildings that had so far withstood whatever bombardment had hit them. “They could use your assistance in helping to meet their current objectives. Remember – head or heart. Anything else is effectively just a wasted shot. Got it?”

  “Clear, sir,” Milligan said. The man withdrew the gun that was still slung over his back, giving the weapon a quick inspection, before nodding to the brigadier. Estelle saw that it was indeed a sniper rifle he held.

  “All set? Plenty of ammunition?”

  Milligan nodded.

  “Right. Get going.”

  Milligan stood, slung the weapon once more over his back and hurried towards his target, following a group of other soldiers moving in that direction.

  “Smith, go with him,” Stafford added. “Make sure he gets his own cover.”

  “Yes, sir,” the stout man said, cocking his rifle and bounding off after the sniper.

  Estelle watched the pair go. A short way down the road, they were obstructed by a large pile of stone. Smith cupped his hands together, forming a step onto which Milligan climbed, hauling himself over the rubble. He then turned back and helped Smith to traverse the pile himself. It took the sniper some effort to help the heavy man up, using both hands on one arm to get him over. Eventually, they were both up and across the other side … and then they were gone.

  “What’s been happening here?” Estelle asked.

  “Just over forty-eight hours ago, Enemy forces started an orbital bombardment of Mythos,” Potter said. “From what we can tell, they’ve cut off all navigation buoys and subspace communication relays into and out of Coyote. We’ve been completely unable to signal for help. None of our communications could be routed through any of the jumpgates either, no matter what we tried. After the initial bombardment, dropships started to touch down, and a full-scale invasion started. We did our best to evacuate the cities but … well, you probably saw the result on your way over. They smashed the airports and all the transportation systems almost immediately. They didn’t want anyone to get away.”

  A familiar sound began to fill Estelle’s ears, distinguishable over the sounds of battle from further down the road.

&nb
sp; “Brigadier, incoming!” a cry came.

  She peered beyond the group’s cover, to see a grey shape knifing its way through the air towards them. She had seen such a shape before, though not in so much detail as now, having kept her eyes tightly shut during the previous encounter. This time she was able to take in a lot more of the vehicle’s detail as it thundered overhead, racing down the length of the approaching street. The craft itself was long and slender, save for at the rear where what looked like two small jet engines jutted out. A rider, sat atop the craft, was holding on to a pair of handle bars at the front, their legs falling either side of it, feet supported by rests.

  “Skybike!” Stafford cried.

  It certainly looked like a motorcycle. The rider’s head turned quickly with its approach, seemingly looking for something in particular. They then located their target, staring at someone within the group of people clustered by the wall, their gaze fixed on them as they shot by. The bike slowed some fifty metres down the empty street, before swinging around to face the group of men and women on the ground. At the speed it had reduced itself to, it almost looked as though the rider was dry steering it. The craft was certainly capable of maintaining its lift at any velocity. Having swung around, it started back towards them. The rider released one hand from the steering and reached to their leg, pulling out a pistol.

  “Scatter! Find cover!” Potter ordered. “You two, with me. Now!” he added to Estelle and Chaz. The two sprang to their feet and hastened after the man, taking shelter behind one half of a bus which looked as though it had been torn in two by some monstrous force.

  Estelle heard the fizz of plasma bolts slamming into the sides of the vehicle moments after the three had taken cover. Aware that the stream could quite easily burrow its way through the remains of the bus, she flung herself to the ground, briefly contemplating crawling under the bus itself. The return fire started from where Stafford’s unit had taken cover, bullets and plasma bolts sailing past the speeding skybike. Just as the craft closed in, a shot found its mark, striking it somewhere on the underside, towards the rear. The bike’s turbines stalled, before cutting off completely. It then plunged from the sky, ploughing heavily into the ground, breaking apart then exploding as it made contact with the concrete. Along with a spray of parts from the ensuing destruction, the rider was jettisoned from the vehicle, and sent bouncing and rolling across the ground. The rider cried out as they did so, a distinctly female voice. Despite the event, she pulled herself to her feet only moments later, wobbling briefly before resuming her search for her target.

  “Take her down!” Stafford cried out.

  Those that had taken cover with him leaped forward and rained down fire upon the woman. The leather suit she wore was shredded by gunfire, several bullets striking her helmet and causing her head to snap about. The woman tottered on unsteady legs for a time, before collapsing to her knees and falling face down.

  Estelle, Chaz and Potter emerged from behind the bus as Stafford trotted over to the body. He kept his rifle trained on the soldier the entire time, kicking away the weapon that lay only inches from the woman’s unmoving fingers. Estelle made out a blooded, gaping hole in the back of the woman’s helmet before Stafford flipped her over, still marking her as he did so.

  “She’s down, we’re clear,” he said.

  “Didn’t think it would be long before the bastards decided to try to take me out directly,” Potter said. He called his team back to where the map was still pinned by a number of broken bricks. He quickly summarised the standings to an attentive Stafford and Thompson, before ordering his tactical officer to pack up the map, props and other equipment. “Right, come on; let’s move up!” To Estelle and Chaz, he said, “You too. You’ll find no rescue here. Put these on and follow me.”

  Estelle caught one of the helmets he tossed in their direction and slipped it over her head. Whilst Chaz’s looked to be a comfortable fit, her own was quite loose. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. She tightened the straps as best she could. The group started off down the road, the sounds of explosions, gunfire and voices becoming ever clearer in her ears. She caught only snatches of the sources – glimpses of people, lit up by flashes of light from energy weapons, before they faded once more into the darkness. Even those closer by would be quickly hidden behind showers of dirt and gravel. All around, dangerously large lumps of masonry were being flung about, as they were torn from their original resting places and scattered far and wide.

  She once more saw a scattering of people and bodies as they went – members of the local military forces; civilians, including men, women and children, some little more than charred bodies. There was the occasional black suit amongst them, though they were outnumbered by a factor of many. Further along, what appeared to be a medic and another soldier were crouched over a figure, splayed out on the ground. Estelle couldn’t see exactly what was happening, but the men were working feverishly to handle the problem. She looked away and concentrated on where she was going, making sure she didn’t lose her footing on the ground, which was littered with all manner of debris. It crunched under her feet, almost in-tune with the other sounds, as if the world around her was unwilling to offer up even one second’s silence. It was a far cry from the relative quiet of a starfighter cockpit.

  Several metres up the road, Potter waved the group back into cover, behind a makeshift barricade. He removed a device from his belt and spoke into it briefly, listening carefully to the response. “I’m needed up front,” he said, turning to Estelle and Chaz. “And that means you two are coming with me. Problem is that I can’t babysit you two all night, so you’re going to have to pull your weight if you hope to last through till morning.”

  Estelle felt a small spike of panic. They were going into this as foot soldiers? The reality of their situation was sinking in deeper. “What kind of hardware do you have up there?” she asked, trying to keep the fear from creeping into her voice.

  “None.” Potter said, with total finality. “Pretty much everything we had has either been taken out or captured by the opposing forces. I don’t think much else is going to arrive, either. From what we can tell, the Enemy have flattened every major military installation they could find. We only have two tanks to our name, but neither of them have any remaining offensive capabilities – every gun on ‘em has been totalled.”

  Estelle swallowed, feeling her stomach tighten even more.

  Potter looked around to a man who was firing indiscriminately at targets from where he held cover. “Persson! Get over here. And bring me some PPRs.”

  Persson acknowledged the brigadier, waiting for a break in the action before he pulled back, snatching up a bag next to him. It swung unevenly as he ran over, appearing quite heavy, and as he set it down Estelle saw that it was filled with a number of different armaments.

  “Good man,” Potter said. “Now, unless things have changed in the last minute, we’re still weak on our right flank. Get up on that ridge and see what you can do for those guys.” He turned back to Estelle and Chaz. “You two are pilots, right?”

  Estelle and Chaz nodded.

  “How often do you get firearms practice?”

  “One hour a couple of times a month mandatory; everything else is discretionary,” Estelle said.

  “And how often do you do so?”

  “Once a week,” Estelle said.

  “Same,” Chaz said.

  “With?” Potter said.

  “Pistols, conventional and energy. Sometimes shotguns,” Estelle said.

  “That it?” Potter sounded appalled.

  “They don’t provide us with training for anything of a higher grade,” Estelle explained.

  Potter cursed and sifted through the bag that Persson had deposited next to him, snatching up one of the guns. “Is there any point in me asking if either of you are familiar with the PPR-60 plasma rifle?”

  Estelle shook her head vigorously. “No,” she answered. She noticed that her hands were shaking nearly as m
uch as her head, and tried to think positive thoughts to remain calm. She wished she’d made a bigger effort to secure her pills. She also wished that she hadn’t taken the last of them on the way over. Should’ve forced herself to ration them some more, and not give in so easily to the calm they gave her. But the desire for the sense of relief they brought was too much for her to do without. She was addicted. It was just like having a forty-a-day habit.

  Potter motioned to Chaz, seeking his experience with the rifle.

  The big man gave the gun a cursory look. “No.”

  Potter swore again and started to give them a crash course in firearms training, though initially Estelle wasn’t listening. She’d found Chaz’s answer surprising. For some reason, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was lying, especially after the way in which he had handled himself earlier in the year. Back then, at Arlos, he had demonstrated a knowledge of firearms that could only have come with training. Maybe back by the coast, when she had confronted him, he’d really been telling the truth. Maybe he really was a spy. Chaz met her eyes briefly, but his expression remained serious and focused.

  Potter went into his demonstration, pointing out each part of the weapon as he did so, though he kept his lesson short and concise. “The rifle works like any other – grip, trigger, sight. Hold it like this. There’s no scope or screen; you just align the target between the central pin at the front and the two behind it. Don’t spend too long trying to line yourself up, or those guys will drop you before you get a chance to squeeze the trigger. Just align yourself generally and shoot. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Estelle said. Chaz nodded.

  “Ammo counter,” Potter tapped the side of the gun. “Not in the most convenient of places, but at least you have one.” He momentarily glanced over towards the scene of battle, to check on the standings. Estelle followed his gaze, in time to see one of their allies peep out from behind cover and take a plasma bolt straight to the head. It did anything but calm her nerves. Potter didn’t react, but turned back to continue the brief. The need for more guns on the field was clearly becoming greater than ever.