As she jogged out to the Atet she barked through her helmet speaker, her voice magnified to a mighty din. “Furcotte, up front! Get this bird on and ready to fly!”
Within seconds Kirby clomped onto the pad in the Marduk, its heavy footfalls ringing out across the valley. Within she wore her slim suit of olive jockey’s armor which made the lengthy proportions of her limbs and the toned wiriness of her build all the more evident. While less protective than other Marine armor the suit possessed interfaces for haptic integration, allowing Kirby to share physical sensations with her vehicles and thus reduce her reaction time to external stimuli.
She moved at the determined canter that was the Marduk’s maximum speed, servos whirring and humming as she charged up the Atet’s ramp and into the walker harness inside the ship's bay. She flew of out the front of the suit, and sprinted to the bridge as the harness clamps secured the Marduk’s limbs for transport.
Runner was next up the ramp, his deep gray suit a close fit, its molded exterior made his musculature appear even more statuesque. Metal mounting clamps on the surface of his armor secured his antique rifle and a pair of three-barreled sidearms to his person. Lifts on his boots granted him extra jump strength, and friction pads on his palms and the soles of his feet made climbing easier. He soared up the Atet’s ramp in one leap, and rapidly secured himself into a harness.
Vort flew out onto the pad and inside the Atet with great strokes of his wings. His light armor suit was a round construct that accommodated for his eyes’ orientation with a hemispherical bubble visor on top. Metal armatures were fitted to the bones of his wings, from where thin panels stretched over the feathered surfaces to defend him while his wings were folded without impeding his flight. He fluttered to his custom harness next to the Marduk and got fastened in.
The last to enter the Atet was Nicadzim. He wore a suit of Heavy Assault Armor that traded the molded exterior surfaces for additional armor plating, with a several-centimeter gap between the outer plates and inner armor to cause projectile deflection. Each gauntlet was slightly enlarged and further reinforced for close combat. While for many purposes Heavy Assault Armor was not mobile enough, Nicadzim had assured Bryluen it would not be a problem for him. When he appeared secured in his harness across from Runner he seemed unarmed, but this was decidedly a falsehood. Runner shook his head as he realized Nicadzim had not been present an instant prior.
Kirby lined up her spine with the pilot’s chair, allowing her suit to interface with the plugs therein to grant her additional feedback and input. Bryluen had taken the second bridge seat to handle communications, and serve as observer for the long-range scanners and diagnostic readouts.
Within four minutes of the first alarm, the Atet’s ramp closed and the vessel lifted up and away from Raven’s Landing at a pulse-pounding speed as near to the edge of gravitational discomfort as possible. Bryluen began to transmit mission information to the team’s visors as the sky gave away to the inimitable blackness beyond the atmosphere. Gravity faded away quickly, leaving them floating slightly in their harnesses—a smaller ship like the Atet wasn’t worth equipping with an artificial gravity system. Kirby had a strong hand, guiding the Atet at blistering speeds toward the Drive Harness near the Corax Gate.
After roughly a half hour of outbound travel, a smooth deceleration led to a near-seamless docking procedure as Kirby attached the Atet to the harness device. Soon they began to speed back up, bearing for the center of the gate with the harness in tow. Like other human gates, the Corax Gate was a practical construct that used as little extraneous material as possible. It was burnished and elegant, an engineering achievement even though it was technically inherited technology.
The technology for the gates had been passed between species in this part of the Milky Way as the most efficient form of travel. Some say the initial gates were discovered rather than invented, but most species seemed to eventually come to the same conclusion that such gates were ideal for galactic travel and in turn met others with similar ideas. Sharing or learning the Gate methods of others, the travel system had been reasonably homogenized to the degree that there was little that needed to be done to travel through foreign gates even as far out as the Ĥassallcǒtallǟ Regency.
The moment the Atet hit the outer range for the Drive, Kirby triggered the harness. The Corax Gate sped its constant rotation to dilation speed and came to life in response. The vacuum of space prevented the transfer of sound and pressure, but in an atmospheric environ the velocity of an active gate mechanism would be great enough to send planetary weather systems into a rolling catastrophe. Aside from even that, the sound would be unbearable if not outright deadly to those who could hear it.
On the outer edges of the system however, the massive device was a silent monolith looming over them in imposing grandeur. As they approached the edge of the vast opening, the light-ringed splotch of the Compression phenomenon opened before them, neatly swallowing up the Atet as it passed through to the Aristarchus system.
Slowing the ship and detaching the harness on the other side of the gate with a laudable amount of finesse, Kirby sped the Atet toward Democritus, the third planet. Her displays indicated they were roughly forty five minutes from touch down at the colony’s most secure landing site.
Democritus was a bluish-gray world with splotches of yellow-green across its major land masses. The world had a pleasant atmosphere and predictable weather patterns which allowed it to develop in safety, if not in luxury. For almost fifteen years little but steady expansion efforts had happened in the Aristarchus system, not to mention on Democritus itself. A network of colonial establishments had steadily spread outward from the initial colonization site in a regulated example of planned growth.
The colony under attack was the world’s first colony and capital, named Pisistratus. It had begun as a prefab modular colony like so many other Human colonization efforts, and since its founding had expanded into a town with a population of roughly fifty thousand.
The populace was in the process of being evacuated, with the Marines on Democritus deployed in force to repel the sudden attack as best they could. Civilian casualties at this point were not entirely known, but were mercifully low. Bryluen tracked orbital movements on the long-range scanner, watching a group of System Defense Monitor ships on a geosynchronous route over the outer stretches of Pisistratus.
Easily the smallest space-borne vessels Humanity had seen fit for combat, the Monitor ships were hardly more than glorified shuttles mainly used for minor orbital enforcement and occasional grouped fire support in larger scale battles. They were squat, squared shapes that, like most Human ships, consisted of more armored plates than interior space. A mass driver turret hunched menacingly on what were nominally the top and bottom of the craft, and a short laser array guarded each flank as both point defense and for targeting enemy sub-systems.
Though each could rain merry hell compared to most atmospheric vehicles, they would be swatted from the sky three at a time by a proper Marine Frigate. Occasionally one of their cannon mounts would flash, and send a heavy slug downward as they received fire orders from the Marine Commander on the ground. The fearsome velocity of the projectiles from even a small ship meant the impact was sure to be severe enough that the ships were aiming carefully outside the range of any structures below to avoid collateral damage. To allow orbital bombardment to begin with, the colony’s orbital defense matrix had been disabled.
Bryluen used the long-range communicator to query the leader of the ground forces for updated information. She received a return packet within a minute detailing that several dozen Marines were down and an estimate that from three to five thousand enemy contacts were present. The line was holding, though a breakthrough near the eastern docks was in progress—if unchecked, the evacuation would be put in terrible peril. While outside the normal scope of a strike team deployment, Dread Naught was able to arrive on-site much faster then Marine reinforcements in order to prevent casualties. The energ
y projectiles from the hordes of Rabisus present had ignited fires in several commercial and residential districts, but were the fires were being contained by the remaining Firefighting Drones on site.
The Marines had opted to bog down the attacking hordes in building-to-building fighting where the enemy’s numerical advantage would not serve them well. Regardless, the speed and viciousness of the foe as well as the fact their bodies did not obstruct their fellows meant the fighting was still difficult and risky. The formerly three hundred-strong Marine contingent had already been forced to fall back more than thirty blocks on all sides since they first engaged.
Bryluen fired back a response to the commander asking if he knew of any archaeological finds that were held in the city. The Marine Commander knew of none but would ask around on the Operative’s behalf, choosing not to address the purpose of her line of questioning. Bryluen assured the Commander her team would deploy near the docks to shore up the defense there, and gave her their estimated time of arrival before relaying what she had learned to the team’s visors.
The members of Dread Naught waiting in the hold were mainly quiet and tense, the air thick with uncertainty. Vort glanced toward Runner and Nicadzim with two of his eyes. It began to dawn on all of them they were being plunged into a full-scale battle for the first time in their lives.
“I have fought before while exploring. But I have not seen a battle like this firsthand.”
Runner looked down at Vort from his harness. “Neither have I. Firef-fights? Plenty. But not like this. What a-about you, Nico?”
He breathed. “I have and will witness battles of sorts, myself, but I do not participate in anything so large. I imagine the din will be … distracting.”
Bryluen’s voice came through their helmet speakers in a tone of steely calm. “I know this is new for you three. Kirby and I have been in our share of battle, but know that I have faith in all of you. Focus on your own actions and your own presence. The big picture is between the Commander and I. Keep your mind in your own space, and stay alive. We’ve got objective and teammate overlays and constant communication between us regardless, so just keep your eyes where the danger is each moment. If you pray or meditate, now is a fine time. You won’t have another chance until this is over.”
Runner and Vort took deep breaths. Runner closed his eyes as Nicadzim responded to the Operative. “Will you believe we will win this battle?”
“Victory is a relative condition. Right now, this is about evacuation, so yes, I think we will. We’re here to make time more than anything. Beating a horde this big, with the numbers we have, in the situation we’re in? That’s dicier, but ideally we won’t have to. We’re going to focus on making time for Evac and we’ll handle whatever else may come.
A brief pause occurred. “... I am actually kind of excited because I get to spew lightning at bad things! Spewing lightning at bad things is a rare opportunity!”
Runner laughed hard, immediately descending into a brief coughing fit. “T-that’s true! Shooting b-bad things is pretty rewarding. I-I g-guess that’s a good way to think of it.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be all right,” Kirby radioed from the pilot’s seat. “Folks back home tend not to ’ppreciate hearin’ it, but shootin’ things that need shootin’ is a hell of a lot of fun. Ridin’ my old girl makes me feel better than ... well, everything, really. Life’s been better since they gave me a missile rack.”
Nicadzim nodded slowly. “I have admitted that there was a certain aesthetic pleasure in having watched something detonate. In most forms of polite company we are dissuaded from discussing how poetic fire was, but this did not alter that opinion.”
Runner sighed. “Damn, you have n-no idea how much better it feels kno-owing you aren’t going to judge how g-g-g-giddy I get firing my gun.”
“Oh, honey, I’m a Marine,” Kirby quipped. “The grounded philosophy education is nice and all, but got-damn do I have some stories that’ll make ya grow some hair on your chest!”
“N-not to nitpick, but d-do you think I haven’t grown h-h-hair on my chest?”
“Gotta be honest, hon, you shave your arms, and that makes me think you might shave everything else.”
“... A-a-alright, y-you’ve got my number.”
Nicadzim took a big breath. “I in fact never shaved much of anything, should anyone care to inquire.”
8. Premiere at Pisistratus
The remainder of the ride in was uneventful, with the battle line at the docks continuing to slowly slip backwards. As the Atet screamed down through the lower atmosphere, the radio chatter became increasingly frantic from the Marine fire teams trying to hold back the swarm. The sun was lowering steadily, casting the battle in the dramatic hues of the oncoming evening.
Pisistratus was a fine example of modern city planning and colonial design. Bright, glittering towers jutted into the sky at equal intervals, each bearing rings of hydroponic domes and curved solar arrays like extravagant jewelry dangling down ivory necks. Between the towers, organized clusters of buildings connected by sky-bridges formed neat webs of glistening glass and alloys. Faint blue tram rails grew along the ground like vines, and during a normal day hundreds of cars would be neatly passing one another along those rails in every direction like a bustling colony of ants. Between every rail junction, along every bridge, and on top of every roof were installations of local plant life, public art displays, fountains, and parks. A casual gaze gave the impression of a chaotic panorama bursting with life, when in fact the city was painstakingly planned for convenience and efficiency. The fact that many of those gardens, art pieces, and carefully laid out networks of civil architecture were currently burning, was a true crime.
Kirby swung the Atet in low, locking in a landing area on a cleared portion of the docks. A number of more conventional sea vessels, as well as lifters and shuttles were evacuating people to sites further down the coast as well as to waiting orbital transports to escape the destruction. The Atet’s shadow fell over one such shuttle as the vessel went in for final approach on auto-pilot. Kirby and Bryluen left their seats and rushed to the disembarkation bay with the others. Kirby ran past Runner and Vort on her way to climb into the Marduk, her leggy frame sailing by at high speed.
“Damn, we look g-good in our armor,” Runner commented as Kirby dashed by.
Kirby had leaped into the Marduk’s open cockpit, situating herself in the harness and aligning her spine with the interface plugs. “Yeah, I feel like a sexy killin’ machine, myself.”
Bryluen held onto a harness grip in one gauntleted hand. “Well that’s good to hear, given the suits were all fitted to scans of your bodies. I’d comment on how nicely I fill out my armor, but if I ever stopped doing so it would just mean that I needed to gain a couple pounds.”
The klaxon in the bay lit up and began to cry out. The team’s harnesses burst open, and Dread Naught assembled in the agreed-upon order. Kirby in the heavily-armored Marduk took point, with Bryluen and Nicadzim just behind. Runner and Vort took up the rear. With a loud hum, a pair of large-barreled auto-cannons slid up to Kirby’s wrists and loaded with a menacing series of clanks and clacks. She hunched slightly as she braced herself to burst into motion. Bryluen unslung the flat weapon from her back, resting its ergonomic stock against her shoulder and cracking her neck. Nicadzim clenched his fists while Runner unclipped and braced his rifle. He pushed a breath out through his mouth as Vort swayed on his legs impatiently.
The Atet was setting down just behind a makeshift barrier of cargo crates, a site soon to be the front line against the oncoming enemies. Several Marine teams were fighting on various rooftops attempting to slow the advance with grenades and suppressive fire, while keeping themselves out of the path of the main body of the horde.
Bryluen flared her nostrils. “Three ...”
The Atet’s course shifted slightly as it slowed and began to lower.
“Two ...”
The two rear landing feet set down smoothly, followed ra
pidly by the third.
“One ...”
With one final alarm cry, the loading ramp shot open with a loud hiss, clanging on the concrete of the dock area.
“Forward, Dread Naught!”
A long barrier stretched out before them, having been hauled or pushed into place by nearby vehicles earlier in the battle. Smaller crates and pallets had been used to create ramps to the top of the four meter wall of metal cargo boxes. Kirby stormed down the Atet’s ramp straight to the nearest container. Her huge, articulated hands grabbed the handle and pulled it askew with little effort, creating an opening in the wall. Through it she could see a second, shorter barrier of spread out firing positions, and beyond that a paved area stretching from the docks to the nearest line of buildings. As large a space as possible had been cleared, leaving an open no man’s land between the final structures and their defensive line.
The sound of battle emanating from the bowels of the city was deafening. The crunches and rumbles of heavy weapons, grenades, and other detonations were undercut by the rapid crack and cough of shotguns, rifles, and desperate sidearms. Interspersed through it all was the whine of rockets in flight, and the hum and hiss of directed energy weapons in a ceaselessly echoing cacophony of devastation. In addition to the overwhelming wall of sound, the visceral sights of war illuminated the quickly dimming sky. A blackish swarm of shady forms poured from between the buildings and toward the docks in a torrent, their hazy shapes blending together for the members of the team who had not them before. Tracer fire and muzzle flashes flared from the top of several buildings in yellow and orange bursts of violence, causing blackish soot to jet up from the horde where they hit. A block or street would be briefly rendered a white after-image when a grenade or rocket exploded, the flash illuminating the spirals and puffs of dark smoke cavorting overhead like the crazed pen-strokes of a madman.
The Shadow Among The Stars: Book One of the Dread Naught Trilogy Page 8
