The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  “There you are,” Potter said, staggering towards the pair. He was supporting another man about the shoulders. Potter’s face was covered in dirt, sweat dripping from his brow, but otherwise he looked unhurt. The same couldn’t be said of the man he had brought with him, his uniform ripped and torn, blood covering his face and hands. Potter let the man slip down on the ground with an uncomfortable grunt. “You two holding up okay?”

  “Yeah,” Estelle answered, though she knew her face was betraying her true feelings.

  “You’ve probably noticed by now that we can’t get past those shields very easily,” Potter said. “We’re almost out of explosive weaponry too, so we’re going to have to rush them. I don’t want either of you two to get hurt, but we’ll need every gun we’ve got, otherwise we’re going to be overwhelmed. When I give the signal, we need to get over there and take them out. Understood?”

  Estelle nodded. No more cowering at the back.

  Potter looked about the immediate area, raising a hand and waving it. Other hands were raised, appearing to come from groups that were hunkered down in various places, still firing upon the advancing enemy units. Potter made a gesture. The signals were promptly returned.

  “Jackson, give me your pistol,” Potter said to the man that he had carried over. Jackson pulled the gun from his belt and handed it to Potter, who then passed it to Chaz. He drew his own and handed it to Estelle. “Listen closely. No energy weapons. Target the head and heart is the first principle, but anywhere else is good, so long as you shoot to kill.”

  Oh my God! He was sending them to their deaths. Estelle had visions of herself popping out of cover, charging back into the square, and into a barrage of machine and plasma gun fire. She swallowed and took a deep breath.

  Potter must’ve seen the look on her face. He reached out and grasped her tightly about the shoulder. “Trust me, Commander,” he said, and then withdrew what appeared to be a grenade from his belt. Estelle shuffled backward, to get further away from the man. Potter peeked over the bunker to take one last look at the standings, before raising a hand clearly into the air, three fingers aloft. He counted them down, then activated the grenade and stood, hurling it towards where the enemy forces were gathered.

  A single grenade? What good would that do? Even if he managed to land it directly at one of the soldiers’ feet, she could hardly see the point. She waited for the bang, but the expected detonation never came. Instead, there was what sounded like shorting electrics. She felt a tingling sensation wash over her and then there was a cry from one of the teams that Potter had signalled to.

  “They’re down! They’re down!” the voice shouted.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Potter cried, leaping up from the bunker and charging towards the enemy forces, along with everyone else.

  Chaz looked to Estelle, and with a nod of her head she acknowledged his silent question. The big man darted out, Estelle tailing after him a moment later, weaving between the obstacle course of barricades, towards the enemy. She was met by one of the strangest sights she had ever witnessed in her life.

  The large oval shields that the enemy held were no longer functioning, the ruby-red eyes of their helmets no longer aglow. Dark, hollow, subdued eyes tracked the approaching Territorial Guard, almost as if reflecting the inner feelings of the soldiers within the suits. Some looked to be struggling with their weapons. The allied forces, however, didn’t seem to be suffering from any such problems – shotguns, machine guns, and pistols all working as expected. Exactly as expected. The black-suited soldiers cried out as they were hit by fire, falling where they had once stood proud, strong and unopposed.

  The allied fighters were ravenous, several running over to the bodies of those that had fallen and emptying more bullets and shells into them. Chaz found his own place, levelling his pistol in the expert way that Estelle was still finding difficult to fathom, and hitting one of the helmet-less Imperial soldiers square in the forehead.

  Estelle watched the man drop, something about the act seeming amiss. He’d had a confused look on his face, though not, Estelle thought, because of his weapon having suddenly failed him. It was more like he had all at once snapped out of a trance, becoming aware of what was happening, of where he was, of what he was doing …

  … of who he was.

  There were cries all around Estelle. The remainder of the enemy forces appeared to be being routed. She watched them running. Their stride was of a fashion quite dissimilar to that which she had seen whilst fighting them earlier. When before, they had moved with admirable grace, this new form was clumsy, panicked and urgent. One even tripped over. Something was wrong; something had changed.

  She saw something flapping nearby – a flag. She caught the fleeting image of a man holding a spear, a sash curled around his body. It was the same flag that she had seen during the battle, the one that the soldiers held aloft as if to spur on their numbers and unsettle their opponents. Now, it had been discarded, dropped, so as not to hinder the escape of those that had once carried it. Something that had once been held in such high regard and majesty had been tossed to the ground and trodden into the dirt, as if it were nothing but a cheap piece of cloth. She saw more had received the same treatment further afield, unwanted and suddenly somehow unimportant.

  And was she hearing Imperial voices, with real Imperial words and dialects? Were those English words she had just heard spoken in a thick Mitikas accent? Were there cries of panic and distress? No, her mind must’ve been playing tricks on her …

  “After them!” Potter cried, pointed towards the enemy that were pulling back. “Take them down before they can recover!”

  His commands were followed through, and the sounds of gunfire and cries grew softer as a number of the allied forces sprinted after the enemy in retreat. Estelle felt some tension lifting, but her heart was still racing as her eyes scanned the bodies of the enemy soldiers, watching all of them carefully. She moved into position, not too close that they could grab her, but not so far that she couldn’t shoot them back down if she saw them start to get up. She steadied her pistol against the adrenaline that was rushing around her body, making her hands quiver.

  She glanced at Potter. The brigadier wasn’t making an effort at marking anyone in particular, but making his way between the bodies, giving each one a quick assessment. After a few moments, he waved to the rest of his team. “That’s enough. Get those shield-things they were carrying and collect up their supplies.”

  Estelle remained where she was, watching her target. She then became aware of a figure that had come to stand next to her.

  “Don’t worry, hon, they’re not going to get back up. Not after that.” It was Thompson. She was panting heavily, her voice sounding a little hoarse.

  Estelle’s hands were shaking. Even so close to the solider she marked, she wasn’t sure she could’ve shot him accurately if she needed to. “What happened? Why did all their weapons and shields stop working?” she asked.

  “Mag grenade,” Thompson said. “Sorry you weren’t told, but we couldn’t risk spreading the word and tipping them off. We used hand signals instead. The grenade’s designed to knock out all electrical systems and energy-based weapons. Only lasts a few minutes or so, so you have to be quick.”

  Estelle was confused. “But … why aren’t they going to get back up?”

  “Because of the mag grenade.”

  “I … I’m not following,” Estelle said.

  “Would’ve thought that was obvious?” Thompson said, with a quizzical look.

  Obvious? What’s obvious? “No…?”

  “The damper knocks out all electrical systems, including the nanites in their bodies.”

  Estelle hesitated, not sure of what she had just heard. “The what?”

  “The nanites,” Thompson repeated. “The things inside them that keep them going? The things that give them their strength and freakish abilities?”

  Estelle had no idea what she was talking about. Perplexed, she turned to C
haz. The big man was standing with his pistol relaxed, no longer marking those that had been shot. There was a look on his face that she couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, he didn’t look in the least bit surprised.

  “Oh my God. You don’t know, do you?” Thompson said, incredulously. “No one’s told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  “About what’s happened,” Thompson said, her face splitting into a slightly amused grin. “Everything.”

  Everything? She was finally going to find out what this was all about? About what the hell was happening here? It was too much. For a moment, she didn’t move. She then felt Thompson place a gentle hand on her arm, lowering the pistol.

  “Come on, the danger’s passed,” Thompson said, reassuringly. “Tell you what,” she then added, “let’s you, me and your boy get ourselves some water and a place to sit down and rest for a bit.”

  Estelle looked to Chaz. Still no surprise or shock there. He almost looked as though he was ready to confess something.

  “Listen,” Thompson said, “you both look exhausted, so it would be wise to get some sleep whilst we can. After that, we’ll talk.”

  The offer sounded good. Estelle felt her shoulders sag, as if a great weight had lifted.

  “Come,” Thompson beckoned to Chaz to follow. “First, sleep. Then there’s a few things you need to hear.”

  Estelle looked to Potter’s team, who were busying themselves collecting up the inactive energy shields and weaponry that lay on the ground, amongst the bodies, bodies that had seemingly reverted to a more normal state. “Do I really want to?” she said.

  The bald woman chuckled. “Oh, yeah. You’re going to love this.”

  XV

  — A Father’s Request —

  An excerpt from A GIFT FROM THE GODS by Kelly Taylor

  18th / 19th December 2617

  When I heard the bolts of my cell door slide to, I was certain that they had come for me once more. The door swung open and one of the female soldiers stepped into the room. Like the one on the beach, she wore no helmet, and also like the one on the beach, she too looked dead inside.

  She trained the rifle she wielded on me, motioning me to back away from the centre of the cell and into the corner. She spoke no words, not even the simple commands I then knew they were capable of. Still, I did as she had indicated. She moved aside and through the open doorway came two other soldiers, carrying between them the limp form of Enrique. At the moment I saw him, I wanted nothing more than to rush to him. But with the woman marking me, I was unable to do anything save sit and watch.

  They walked into the centre of the room and dropped him unceremoniously onto the padded floor. I felt a lump form in my throat. His face was bruised and bloody, the area about his eyes so puffed up that he was left only with the tiniest of slits to see through; his lips so swollen that I wondered if he’d ever be able to open his mouth again. I found out later that he was also missing several of his teeth. I was certain that he was dead when they hauled him in, believing that they could further break my spirits by leaving me in the cell with my dead team-mate, the man I loved. I was thankfully spared any such torment, as I heard him grunt as he hit the floor. He was alive, though for how much longer I couldn’t tell.

  I expected them to take me to Rissard next, for the Imperial commodore to do with me what he would. I feared he might once again ask me about the Tachyon Star Bombs, the Helios Confederation’s solution to the threat of the Pandoran war machine. I still wouldn’t have been able to tell him what he’d have wanted to know. I knew nothing about them then; those devices that truly defined what was meant by a weapon of mass destruction. I wouldn’t discover their true purpose until much later. I braced myself to be pulled from that cell, but, with their job done, the two soldiers turned around and left, without even so much as a sideways glance in my direction. The woman who marked me backed out, not removing her vacant, staring eyes from me as she did so. The door was closed behind them, the bolts slamming back into place, sealing us in once more.

  I went to Enrique the moment they were gone. He was groaning with every breath he took; the pain must have been incredible. I placed a hand gently on him as I called out his name. He raised a weary head and looked at me through red, puffy eyes. He tried to speak, but couldn’t even say my name. I remember asking myself why Rissard would do such a thing. He could easily have just used a truth drug on us, to extract all the information that he wanted. However, it seemed that Rissard had always preferred to beat the answers out of his victims. He was an advocate of torture, even when Mitikas had been a peaceful nation, doing so in secret and keeping his methods of information extraction away from the ears of the Crown Emperor. Now less a man and more a Pandoran, his rage and sadistic qualities were only amplified; Enrique, his latest victim.

  Not long after, Enrique’s breathing became shallow and he slipped into unconsciousness. Trapped in that cell, there was nothing for me to do but return to the corner and weep for my friends.

  *

  Kelly stared at the heavy cell door. There was the sound of fighting nearby. The voices she had heard earlier were growing louder, drawing closer. They were a mixture of both the strange language that the Imperial soldiers used and English-sounding cries. The voices she recognised were far more prominent and forceful than those of her captors, like they were being commanded in far larger numbers than their adversaries. Minute by minute they became clearer, until they sounded like they were echoing down the adjoining corridor to her cell.

  Heavy boots tramped down the passageway, coming to a halt outside the door. Kelly got to her feet, not taking her eyes from it. A moment later, the door slid open and her face lit up with joy.

  A man stepped heroically forward into the cell, carrying with him the air of someone who had just kicked down the door, rather than simply open it. He was dressed in full combat gear, a protective helmet covering his head, holding a large, powerful-looking rifle in both hands. His face was grubby with dirt and dust, yet not a drop of sweat crossed his brow.

  He smiled warmly. “Hello, Mouse.”

  Tears welled up in Kelly’s eyes. “Dad!”

  He extended an arm out to her and Kelly ran forward into his embrace.

  “I thought I was going to die in here!” she sobbed into his chest.

  “Shh! There, there. You’re okay now, darling; you’re going to be just fine.” He turned his head and shouted down the corridor, “Hey! In here. I’ve found them. Get a medic. We’ve got a man down.”

  Heavy footfalls followed, and two men, carrying large cases bearing a Star of Life emblem, hurried into the cell. They crouched down by the still body of Enrique and began to pull out an assortment of bandages, syringes, needles, solutions and instruments.

  “They nearly killed him,” Kelly started.

  “Don’t worry,” her father comforted her, holding her tight. “Enrique’s going to be just fine.”

  “What about—”

  “Simon, Estelle and Chaz? They’re waiting for you outside. We found them safe and well, holed up in town.”

  “Thank God.” Kelly hugged her father tighter.

  “I think it’s time for you to come home,” her father said. “Then we can all enjoy Christmas together.”

  “How did you know where to find me?” Kelly said.

  “One of the Imperial soldiers told us. We captured a group in town and used some truth serum on them. They told us everything.”

  Clever. “Are Mum, Gemma, and Susan okay?”

  “They’re all fine. In fact, your mother is here, too.”

  Kelly looked up at her father in surprise and a lot of confusion. She then looked past him, to where her mother stood just outside the cell, dressed in a similar fashion to her husband.

  “Mum?”

  “Hello, darling,” her mother said. “Your father’s right – it’s time for you to come home.”

  Kelly didn’t answer. She blinked and looked again. Her mother had suddenly gained a flowe
ry apron and oven mitts, in which she clutched a glassware casserole dish.

  “Well? What are you waiting for?” her mother prompted. “Come on, dear. I need to get dinner on. This casserole has got to go on for four hours …”

  No, her mother wouldn’t be there, too. That was just stupid …

  And with that, Kelly was wrenched back to reality, the daydream dissolving, leaving her once again trapped in the padded cell.

  *

  She lay on her side, up against a wall, in the same position she had remained for hours. The door of her cell remained as tightly shut and impenetrable as always, the room silent, save only for the sound of Enrique’s slow and shallow breathing.

  She had considered her situation a lot during the past hours, but come to the same conclusion each time – no one knew where they were, no one was coming to get them, and there was no escape from the cell. It had been designed to hold mental patients, the padding on all four walls, floor and ceiling there to prevent them from inflicting any injury upon themselves. A single dim light and strips of thin air vents were the only features of the room, set deep into the ceiling, far out of reach. There wasn’t even a window on the door.

  She sat up, undoing the top buttons of her shirt and pulling out a small gold pendent. It was oval in shape, hung around her neck by a slender, but sturdy, gold chain. On the back was engraved ‘K. A. T.’, her initials; on the front, the words ‘Worlds Apart, Close At Heart’.

  Her fingers found the tiny, discreet latch on the side and she popped it open to reveal two small photos within. The left-hand side bore a photo of her mother and father, stood side by side and smiling out at her. The second photo was of her two sisters, who had dressed identically on that day.