Bloodlines

by Richard Fox

  The final guard was struggling to his knees, cursing and shouting, trying to get a hand on his rifle. Nunez was on his feet. He crossed the two meters between them and drove a booted foot into the alien’s face, snapping his head back. The Pindiki grunted, body twisting back from the impact, then fell to the floor, unmoving.

  Carson got to her feet. “Check the crew!” she shouted over the howling winds. She knelt beside Greer, cutting her restraints with her tac-knife. “Are you okay?”

  Greer groaned, rubbing her wrists were the restraints had dug into her skin. “I’m fine.”

  “Where’s Abendu?” Jena asked, stepping up behind Carson.

  Greer frowned. “Who’s this?”

  “Jena’s with us,” Carson said.

  “Abendu left about ten minutes ago to check on another set of prisoners,” Greer said. “They’ve got another set of secure rooms one floor up. We passed them on the way down.”

  Jena turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Carson said, getting to her feet. “You can’t take on Abendu by yourself.” She turned to West and Nunez. “Get them to the Valiant.”

  ****

  Carson and Jena took the stairs two at a time, pausing on briefly at the stairwell access door. Jena pulled the door open before Carson could stop her and moved into the corridor beyond.

  “Jena, wait!” Carson said, following the Zeis woman through the door.

  The two pushed down the corridor, clearing open doorways and rooms as they went. At a T-intersection, Carson grabbed Jena’s shoulder, pulling her to a stop. Jena shrugged off Carson’s hand, glaring back at her.

  “We don’t have time to wait,” Jena said. “Abendu will get away.”

  “If he gets away, he gets away,” Carson said between breaths. “We can’t just keep—"

  Movement from the corridor to her left caught Carson’s eye.

  “Down!” Carson shouted, pushing Jena aside while simultaneously bringing her rifle up.

  The Pindiki, not the one Carson and the Zeis were searching for, was shirtless and he looked like he was in the process of fastening his pants. His eyes bulged at the sight of the two women.

  “Abendu!” Jena called out and fired, sending a burst almost point-blank in the alien’s bare chest. The bullets knocked the Pindiki back, his skull smacking against the wall. His scream of pain was cut short as he died, collapsing to the floor.

  “Move!” Jena shouted. She dropped to a knee, pulled the Pindiki’s sidearm free of the holster on his hip, and continued around the corner.

  Two fully clothed Pindiki charged out of an open door on the left side of the hall, both pulling pistols from holsters. Jena brought both pistols up, one in each hand, and fired without stopping. The first Pindiki screamed as a bullet caught him in the shoulder, spinning him backward through the corridor. The second doubled over, the rounds landing low in his pelvis. He collapsed into a screaming ball on the floor.

  Jena never stopped moving, Carson pushed hard, staying on her heels. There was no stopping her now.

  They entered a long room filled with partitioned cubicles on either side of a wide aisle that ran the length of the space. As Jena reached the first cubicle, another Pindiki emerged, wearing only shorts, and lunged for the woman. Jena ducked, swatting away the alien’s arms, spun around him, and pressed the barrel of one of her pistols into his side. She fired twice. His head erupted in a mist of blood and gore, splattering the wall behind him.

  Two cubicles down, a second Pindiki emerged. Carson found his face in her optics and squeezed the trigger. The alien’s head snapped back as the round slammed home, knocking him off his feet.

  “Abendu!” Jena shouted, letting the first alien collapse to the floor and turning to continue down the aisle.

  Carson hesitated briefly as she passed the open cubicle, and felt bile rise at the back of her throat when she looked inside. A Zeis female lay on a cheap bed, her hands bound to ropes anchored into the wall above her head. Her entire body was bruised and beaten. Her eyes were wide with horror and pain.

  Carson gritted her teeth and continued on. “Stay to the right, Jena. I’ve got—”

  Three cubicles down, a Pindiki wearing only pants darted out of the opening and down the aisle, sprinting away from them. He looked over his shoulder briefly as he turned a corner at the far end.

  “Abendu!” Jena shouted, sprinting after him, not bothering to clear the remaining cubicles, as he disappeared around the corner.

  Carson followed, making sure to clear the cubicles as she charged past. As she reached the fourth opening, she heard a woman’s voice shout, “Careful!”

  Carson slowed, clearing the opening as she approached, one eye looking through the optic, the other watching her background. Three gunshots rang out, followed by a grunt of pain and something clattering across the floor. A pistol slid out of the opening.

  Inside, a Zeis male was struggling to keep his bare legs wrapped around a Pindiki, screaming as he punched at his face. Carson grabbed the alien by his long black hair and yanked back. The Pindiki grunted as Carson pulled him free of the Zeis man’s grasp.

  He stumbled back, swinging wildly with both hands. Carson dodged the blows and resisted the urge to send a burst of fire into the alien’s naked torso. She didn’t want to risk hitting the man with her rounds. She let her gauss rifle hang and drew her tac knife. The Pindiki lunged, oblivious to the knife, reaching for Carson’s throat with both hands. She batted them away while stepping to the side and brought the knife up, slamming it into the alien’s sternum.

  The alien screamed in pain, hands grasping for the knife as Carson shoved the blade in deep. She drove her knee into the Pindiki’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs, cutting off his cries of pain. She pulled the knife free, only to slam it home again. The blade hit bone and the alien’s body convulsed under the impact, arms falling limply to his side as his knees gave out.

  Carson pulled her blade free as the alien collapsed to the floor and looked to the Zeis man still bound to the wall. She stepped forward and cut both ropes, then flipped the knife over, grabbing it by the blade and holding it out. “Get the others free.”

  The man nodded and hesitantly took the blade.

  “I’ll be back,” Carson said, then charged after Jena.

  The Zeis woman was just pushing through a door at the far end of the room when Carson caught up to her. “He’s this way!”

  The two women charged into a large open garage on the back side of the tower. Rows of small personal transports lined both sides of the space. Orange lines drawn on the dark grey floor marked parking stalls and drive lanes through the garage.

  Abendu was racing down the right-side aisle.

  “Abendu, stop!” Jena shouted.

  Carson fired a single shot, hitting one of the light panels that hung from the ceiling. Sparks erupted from the fixture and the light blinked out.

  Abendu’s hands shot into the air as he came to an abrupt stop. “Please, don’t shoot!”

  “Turn around!” Carson shouted. “Slowly!”

  Abendu turned, eyes filled with fright. “Please, don’t, I—”

  Jena raised her pistol without a word and fired. Abendu’s head snapped back as the round slammed into his forehead. He stumbled back, arms flailing, then fell to the ground, his naked back smacking against the hard concrete.

  “What the hell, Jena? He was giving up!”

  The Zeis woman lowered her weapon and turned to Carson. “That thing doesn’t get to just give up. He deserved no quarter of pity. He deserved to die.”

  Carson wanted to argue, but no words came.

  Jena looked over Carson’s shoulder. “Jor!”

  Carson turned to see the man she’d freed standing with a group of Zeis women.

  “Come to take me home, Jena?” the Zeis man said.

  “Yes, Jor. I have.”

  “Come on, we need to get to the ship,” Carson said. She keyed her IR. “West, where are you at?”

  “
Just about to the platform, Chief.”

  “We’ll meet you there. Moretti, Birch, what’s your status?”

  “We’re good, Chief,” Birch said. “Valiant is back under our control. Name one and we’ll come get you.”

  “Pick us up on the platform on 80. We’ll be down there in five.”

  “Roger that.”

  ****

  The Valiant wobbled in the air slightly, then seemed to over correct and the unfolded ramp knocked one of the airbikes clean off the ramp. Jerry grabbed the support rail by the opening, as the wind outside and his brother’s flying threatened to knock him over.

  “Hey, easy!” Greer yelled, hobbling back. “Who the hell is driving my ship?”

  Jerry started to answer, but the pilot was already gone, sprinting for the bridge.

  The Valiant leveled out, holding steading a few centimeters off the platform.

  Jerry moved down the ramp to help some of the injured crew members. He took one man’s arm around his shoulders and walked him up into the bay.

  Carson jogged up the ramp and put a hand on his shoulder. “You look like you’ve been through hell. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Jerry said. “I’m worried about Popov.”

  “If anyone can do anything for her, Moretti can.” Carson turned to Valiant’s co-pilot, being helped up the ramp by Nunez. She nodded to his bandaged leg. “Can you fly with that thing?”

  Lincoln nodded, grimacing as he put weight on it. “No problem. Who needs a leg to fly, right? Shit!”

  “What’s your ship’s name?” the Zeis male asked, inspecting the ship’s bay.

  “The Fartknocker,” Nunez said, waving a hand around.

  “The Valiant,” Carson snapped, glaring at the sergeant, who gave her a sheepish look.

  He ran a hand over one of the rover’s tires. “The accommodations seem… sparse.”

  “Sit,” Jena told Jor, pointing to the benches.

  The building shook as a drop pod slammed into it somewhere above. Glass and chunks of debris rained down on the platform behind Valiant as the last of the Zeis climbed aboard.

  “Might be good to have someone in the turret,” Lincoln said.

  Carson turned to Jerry. “Can you handle that?”

  Jerry felt a swelling of pride and couldn’t help grinning. He nodded. “I can handle that.”

  Chapter 27

  Streams of information—visual, audible, even physical—flowed into the tank, giving Jared the sensation that he was in ten thousand different places at once and found the experience was overwhelming. Jared focused on closing off elements of the data that he didn’t need; the new model Netherguard could manage on their own without any direct control from him. It was the sergeants and company commanders that he needed to remain connected to, and even that data was almost too much.

  The holo-tank, located in the main hangar bay of the lead assault ship, was surrounded by server stacks, cooling vessels, redundant display panels, and cables connecting the mass of technology together. The subdued orange glow of the images around him flickered off his battle armor. The recessed ceiling lights glowed at half strength, reducing the amount of outside sensory interference.

  The room was empty, sealed off from the rest of the ship. That lone concession had surprised Jared when he’d announced it to the Emperor. But logically, it made the most sense; you don’t want to interfere with the one person controlling your invasion from beginning to end.

  Holographic panels of data, feeds from helmet cams, and streams of radio communication rotated around him, just outside of arm’s length. The orb of data surrounded him completely; every movement he made manipulated the data in some way. Fingers flicked, sending data panels to the background, spread hands enlarged specific feeds, and thoughts opened radio connections.

  A drop pod exploded on a feed in front of him, the image shaking with the turbulence of re-entry. Streams of debris, fire, and smoke trialed through the sky. On a display, relegated to the background, the Netherguard casualty list grew by twenty. More pods exploded as a flight of Regulos fighters tore through the cluster.

  The planet’s anti-aircraft emplacements kept up a constant barrage of fire, sending streams of tracers into the air. During the first ten minutes of the invasion, two in three drop pods were either completely destroyed or fatally damaged before they reached 5000 above ground level. He attempted to re-task some of their fighters to engage the AA turrets, but his request was denied by the Arch Duke without explanation.

  The complete waste of troops, regardless of how easy it was to replace them, made no sense. Why not plan a strategy that didn’t involve the loss of almost 60 percent of your forces? He had to keep reminding himself, the part of himself he kept hidden from the Triumvirate, that he didn’t care about how many Netherguard were lost. It was that many more soldiers that his people wouldn’t have to face when the Triumvirate moved on to Terra Nova. But another part of him, a part he wished would remain quiet, felt regret at sending so many warriors to their death, without even a shred of hope for surviving. The Netherguard were the very definition of meat for the grinder.

  Two full companies advanced through the spaceport, the first location on his priority target list. Several squads, armed with shoulder-mounted rockets, destroyed ship after ship as they worked their way through the massive complex. Several transports took hits as they lifted off, crashing down into the tarmac in brilliant fireballs. Explosions send debris and flames into nearby craft, damaging still more ships.

  Several bands of resistance attempted to repel the Netherguard but were quickly quelled. Jared saw the flanking maneuver from the air as another flight of drop pods descended on the spaceport and redirected three squads to intercept.

  It took almost five minutes for the Regulos to deploy their ground defense forces. Battle droids emerged from underground storehouses and bunkers, moved to engage the Netherguard throughout the city. Jared recognized the action of a cautious commander, waiting to see where the Netherguard would be committed to before launching a counter attack. The droids weren’t well equipped. Though their weapons could drop a Netherguard with a single well-placed shot, their rate of fire was too slow. A droid might get off a shot, and then be overwhelmed before it could fire again. The math seemed to be working in Jared’s favor, until he realized that the stream of battle droids wasn’t stemming, and their numbers were steadily growing.

  A squadron of Ultari fighters swooped down across the spaceport, raking the tarmac with cannon fire. Several ships, whose transponder information identified them as Burathi, Lincheeny, and several others, lifted away from the spaceport, immediately making for orbit.

  He established a link to the nearest Netherguard unit. “NG198-H23, shift fire to cut off the escaping ships in Sector 26.”

  “By your will, Battle Commander,” the netherguard responded.

  Jared watched as the company charged deeper into the spaceport, bringing a maelstrom of fire with them.

  An alert chime sounded and a panel filled with Prince Zviera’s face appeared. “Why is 9th company diverging from their established protocols?”

  “There are several vessels escaping the perimeter around the spaceport, master. I was—”

  “The spaceport is not priority, herald. Your only priority is the destruction of the Abomination’s units and the area surrounding the primary target. You will not deviate from established protocol. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Reassign those units to their original route immediately.”

  The panel vanished, and with a flick of his finger, a top-town map of the city appeared. Diasore proper stretched for hundreds of miles, but the core was only about twenty miles wide. A building near the center flashed red, arrows indicating potential landing zones.

  Using arm and hand commands, Jared redirected 9th company to the target, joining some 2000 other Netherguard converging on DIN Governance building. As his battle lines advanced, they received fire from
a force three times greater, taking losses in numbers that he would have never accepted while he commanded doughboys. He watched the battle for several minutes, that hidden part of himself hoping the droids would push the Triumvirate’s forces back. They put up a decent defense, but despite their superior numbers, the battle droids were outgunned.

  Jared couldn’t help but wonder how an artificial intelligence as vast and powerful as the SI could allow something like this to happen. The level of technology needed to create a viable AI should have been able to mount a significant defense against their attack, especially one as clumsy as the Prince’s.

  Another alert panel appeared, the holo-tank’s secondary routines bringing what it thought was important information to Jared’s attention. Elements of 31st Company had encountered heavy pockets of resistance in Sector 871. It looked like several platoons had been separated near one of the city’s commercial districts, engaging battle droids and armed civilians. Three platoons of battle droids were moving to engage from the far end.

  DIN Governance was the more important target now. I’ll come back to it, Jared thought; raising his hand to dismiss the visual feed, then froze.

  A ship rose up from one of the tall towers, moving fast. It wasn’t Ultari or Regulos. He zoomed in and his breath caught in his chest as he recognized the Terran military markings on the hull.

  Ken, what the hell are you doing here? Jared asked silently.

  He watched it climb, evading attacks from Ultari fighters, none of which were actually focused on bring it down. Many broke off to engage the remaining Regulos fighters.

  As it broke atmosphere, Jared said a silent prayer, willing the ship to get away, but instead of immediately breaking for warp, it continued to fly away from the planet.

  What are you doing? Jared wanted to shout at them. Get the hell out of here!

  Fingers danced and flicked across the display, bringing up information from the rest of the Triumvirate fleet. He’d been so focused on the ground assault he hadn’t thought to see what the battle fleet in orbit was doing.