Dragon Fire (Galaxy On Fire Book 5)

by Craig Robertson

  In less than an hour, the fighting was over. Tens of thousands of Adamant advanced to sweep areas of habitation. Others labored to stack the dead for cremation. Still others began establishing command centers, outhouses, and large mess and dormitory tents.

  Pops of plasma fire flared to life occasionally as the unstoppable force advanced. I waited around just long enough for them to have finished occupying most of the structures. Then I blasted them and any occupants into the rewards of the afterlife. Once they identified me and a bombardment began, I folded away, back to Vorpace. In no way did the pittance of damage I did made me feel any better. It certainly made no difference. Damn the Adamant were good at war. Double damn them.

  NINETEEN

  I folded back into real space at a predesignated location near the capital. Sapale had remained behind to help coordinate the defense of Vorpace. Unlike with the Gorgolinians, the humans here had two important new weapons. A small number of membrane generators and a few war-droids from Langir. The leaders of Sotovir had refused any such toys, preferring to battle in their traditional manner.

  Deploying shield units was very problematic. I didn’t have time to prepare many. The bigger issue was that none of them could fall into the Adamant’s grimy paws. That technology would be way too powerful in their already indomitable armamentarium of domination. Any I deployed had to be paired with an AI in control of a powerful self-destruct explosive. But, key facilities such as major hospitals and troop aggregations could be protected from the initial bombardment. The handful of war-droids were to be set against the Adamant as soon as they landed with the hope of unnerving them, or at least disrupting their ranks.

  When I arrived, the orbital assault had been concluded, and the landing craft had just coughed out the first wave of foot soldiers. The delay stemmed from the greater number of major cities and the presence of the membranes. At first, the Adamant didn’t seem to understand why the structures they targeted didn’t go boom. Consequently, they addressed prolonged fire at them before they abandon that approach. Lucky me, I got to see the Adamant victory emerge from brave yet futile resistance all over again.

  This time, however, I was not going to be a bystander. Facing eternal torment in the very near future, I was planning on being the local franchise of the Hell On Wheels Death Delivery System. Oorah.

  “How did it go?” asked Sapale as she rushed to embrace me.

  Jonnaha and her cabinet remained where they were, watching the unfolding mayhem.

  “Better than I would have guessed,” I replied, pulling her in tightly.

  She lifted her head from my chest. “You mean they held the Adamant off?” She was totally shocked.

  “No. They just died a lot slower and took a lot more dog with them than I anticipated. In the end, it was the massacre we all expected.”

  I felt her slump in my arms.

  “But this time, The Demon of Death Jon Ryan is taking up a personal collection. They don’t stand a chance.”

  “Wow. Where’s my handheld when I want a selfie with the legend before his next miracle? Photo’s gonna be valuable after you single-handedly slay that beast.”

  I kissed her forehead. “Showtime.” We parted, and I stepped over to Jonnaha. “How’s it looking?

  “Grim. Jon I never thought I’d watch my combined armed forces march off to certain death. I hate the feeling. I hate the Adamant.”

  “You’re welcome to step in line behind me. Look, you didn’t ask for this. They forced it on you. Your job is to make them pay as dearly as possible. That’s all any of us can do.”

  I heard a metallic squeak and looked to find the source. It was one of the pair of war-droids positioned against the far wall in the room. It must have sneezed. They were placed here in reserve, anticipating the worst. That’s when I noticed Shielan. Gone was her silk suit. She was in full army regalia from flak jacket to spit-polished boots. She sported twin plasma rifles and a look on her face that could kill.

  “Hey kid,” I said to her, kissing her Kevlar helmet, “you look different. Have you lost weight or what?”

  She winked. “No, I just copied the pinup I had of you in my bedroom. I’m a killing machine like my hero. Surar.”

  “Okay, nice, but you gotta get it right. Repeat after me. It’s oorah, not surar.”

  “Do you have somewhere to go and die?” she asked.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Then I suggest you go there so I don’t feel the need to kill you here, sir.”

  I gave her a salute and walked back to Sapale. “I’m leaving the vortex. When the time comes, use it to evacuate as many as you can.” I turned and pointed at Shielan. “Just don’t bring her. She smells funny.”

  “No, no, and no. That wasn’t the plan. You take the cube. There are several ships here if we need to evacuate.”

  “You know what the best part of being the general in charge of a military operation is? Go on, take a wild guess.”

  “Someone else cuts your meat for you at dinner?” she replied with a puzzled look.

  “No, but that’s nice too. No, the best part is during that all too brief period you can tell your wife what to do.”

  She started to say something but relaxed back into silence.

  “There’s my girl,” I said, tapping her cute little nose. “Honey, if I mosey down the hill or fly to the far side of the planet, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to be killing Adamant, and they’re probably going to kill me back. Location isn’t that important.” I smiled. “Your safety, however, is.”

  “I love you,” she said to my face.

  “Crap, I was just about to say that. You stole my thunder.”

  “Jon.”

  “Yes.”

  “Please leave now.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I jogged out the door. A small squad of soldiers fell in behind me, and we rattled out the door and down the hill. The membrane pulsed to allow us though and then zapped back into existence as soon as the last woman was past. I could immediately smell then meat-locker in the air. War. The same old same old.

  Our path led to the outskirts of the capital city. It was currently free of the Adamant horde, but the sound of intense firefight was not far off. We advanced in the open, covered by my personal membrane. Our weapons were set on visual frequencies, so we could fire though the shield. I had to hope the Adamant hadn’t accounted for that yet and would be using standard plasma guns. Straggling refugees moved past us as quickly as they could, but at that point, any sane person had left the city for the established shelters in the country. We couldn’t stop to offer help. Our mission was strictly offensive, not humanitarian.

  First contact came quickly. We rounded a corner, and a huge tank was on top of us. It fired three quick plasma blasts. It waited for the dust to clear to verify we were little cinders. By the time they could see my squad, we had scrambled halfway up the vehicle. Several detonators were magnetically clipped on, and we vaulted off. As we ran for cover in a building, a plasma bolt slammed into the membrane, and the tank erupted in flames.

  One of my team started to cheer, but I stared him down quickly. He got the message. Celebrate if we win. Otherwise keep fighting.

  Backup foot units converged on us from three sides. We started shooting. A few Adamant face-planted from their full sprint. Others fanned out and took cover. It took them a few minutes, but then they began bypassing the membrane with handguns adjusted to the correct frequency.

  “They’re onto us,” I shouted into my headset. “Dropping the membrane now. Switch to plasma weapons and spread out some. Everyone stay with the squad and watch our flanks.”

  The others moved a few meters away and hunkered down. Once the enemy noted our weapons had changed, they knew the shield was down. Hundreds flooded the street and charged with a deafening howl. My team laid down a torrent of plasma, but the fallen dogs were crushed to the asphalt by the advancing wave slamming over their corpses.

  They’d trained on this suicidal attack
. Crazy sonsabitches. I swept my finger laser at knee height and each advancing row of dogs toppled in agony. But still they came. We began falling back rapidly, keeping up our fire the entire time. We barely kept pace. I tossed three thermite grenades to the front, middle, and rear of the onslaught.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Bodies arced upward, and those not airborne fell like bowling pins.

  In the confusion, I yelled into my headset. “Run.”

  We sprinted as fast as we could. A few seconds later, the man on my right exploded, and he flew to the ground trailing smoke.

  We broke for cover.

  The advance was reforming, and a few Adamant knelt and were taking aim.

  I hit the dirt and started blistering them with rail shot. I always carried my good old rail rifle into battle. No one expected it, and everyone was unnerved when a depleted uranium ball traveling at eighty percent of the speed of light landed near them, hopefully where their head used to be. I loved the sound of the explosions. They were so definitive.

  I missed a dog low. The ground volcanoed up and ripped anyone close to shreds. The Adamant stopped advancing and leapt for cover.

  “I need air cover. Sector Fifteen, 11-239 by 44-667,” I yelled to the command center.

  “Negative, all air units neutralized. Sorry, you’re on your own.”

  “Any artillery? Mortars?”

  “I have mortars, conventional and thermite, that can reach your position.”

  “Conventional thirty meters plus north by northwest of my ping.” I pinged our location.

  “Roger that. Stand by.”

  “Like I got a choice. Ryan out.”

  I commenced firing again. Two others in my squad had bought the farm, and one was nowhere to be seen. Maybe dead, wounded, or running like hell. I sent up a hand signal to drop back. The woman next to me and I laid down covering fire.

  The Adamant were advancing doorway to doorway on both sides of the street. I heard at least one tank roaring just around the corner. That’s when the mortar rounds started dropping. The explosions were scattered at first, but then the street in front of me erupted in debris and smoke. The tank barely cleared the last building before it exploded. It crashed into a building and stopped, smoke pouring from its underbelly.

  I signaled to split into two groups to try and flank behind the Adamant currently pinned down. Three soldiers went left. The woman and I broke right. I sprinted two blocks, then made two left turns to try and come in behind the enemy position. Crap. I miscalculated their number. Instead of coming around their backsides I ran straight into a solid column of grunts.

  They fired first. The wall next to my head was pitted with searing holes.

  I threw a couple grenades, but that just split the advancing troops without even slowing them.

  “Retreat,” I screamed into my headset.

  Just as the woman at my side turned, her right arm vaporized. She spun to the ground screaming and multiple bolts struck her where she lay.

  Ten Adamant vaulted over her body and were closing on me. I put up a full membrane. I was in total defensive mode. I knew I was surrounded already. The bastards would never leave until they got through to me. I sat down roughly while slinging my rifles onto a shoulder. What next?

  It struck me out of the blue. I could expand the membrane fifteen, maybe twenty meters the way it was configured. I knelt and swung both rifles around, one in either hand. I expanded the membrane symmetrically and jumped to the side nearest the building I was covering in. I opened the membrane in a clam-shell configuration pointing toward where I was had been kneeling and immediately slammed it shut.

  I was in the middle of a battered office. Outside, many Adamant lay strewn on the ground. Those behind them looked confused, but then a few saw me and opened fire just as the membrane snapped closed.

  I repeated the expansion, moving farther toward the back of the building. I opened the shield like before. This time I saw the entire skyscraper falling away from me like a felled mighty redwood tree. The enemy on the other side of the structure stood zero chance of survival. Fine by me. I scrambled to my feet and ran away from the street where the column of troops had been moving toward my initial position. I was on my own. The others were either dead or permanently separated. I headed in the direction that afforded me maximal cover. As I passed the first building, I took cover and checked my rear. No one was pursuing. Perfect.

  Surely the soldiers who’d pinned me down reported a human with a personal membrane devise. That meant the big dogs knew I was on the ground. That would draw an instant increase in the numbers. I think by then Jon Ryan must have been a swear word in their culture. I elected to circle back to the Command Center where Sapale was. My effectiveness on the ground was severely limited as it stood, and it looked to get much worse quickly.

  Halfway back, I hit a major concentration of enemy infantry. They had three tanks and something that looked like a helicopter. I’d never seen one before, so I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t going through that force, so around it had to be. I broke right and stayed low. Moving fast, I made it past the enemy’s flank. To avoid contact, I had to swing several blocks clear of them.

  Once safely behind them, I made for HQ again. Not a block later, something above and behind me began a strafing run. The sidewalk exploded on either side of me, and I was pelted with rocky shards. As soon as they pulled up because of the tall buildings, I dove into the next doorway and looked up.

  There. A hybrid fighter, both space and atmosphere capable. But that meant it was slow and handled poorly. You can’t build one small craft that can fly in both places well. I guessed which direction it would reemerge from and pointed both rifles just over the tops of that building. Sure enough, five seconds later it screamed into view, and I opened up. A rail ball struck it amidships, and it split into two fiery halves. They sailed out of view. But I’d betrayed my position. I had to move fast to stay ahead of a whole lotta trouble.

  I sprinted down the sidewalk with a partial membrane over me like a beach umbrella. Within a couple blocks, it was being pounded with plasma bolts. I rolled into cover and checked where the shots were coming from. Dude, I almost began laughing. It looked like an AT-AT walkers from the ancient classic, Star Wars, spindly legs, ungainly gait, and all. Then the sidewalk right in front of me exploded, and I was no longer amused. I aimed my rail gun at a lower joint and blew it out. The upper unit staggered like a drunk ostrich a few seconds then crashed to the side.

  I took off again, heading literally for the hills. The pursuit was too hot to hope to move toward HQ. I was running for my life. Anywhere was better than where I was. I made for parts unknown with maximal haste.

  Several blocks later, I ran into a small squad of soldiers. I saw them first, but one of them heard me. He signaled the group to fan out and directed them toward the sound. Eight infantrydogs. Okay, I could take them. I dropped to a prone firing position and unshouldered my plasma gun. They were not two meters away when I opened up. Four careened backwards with flaming chests before the others reacted. They hit the deck and returned fire. I rolled to my left and popped up shooting. One lost an ear, one his head. The remaining Adamant pinned me back down.

  All is fair in love and war, right? I deployed a partial membrane and shot to my feet with my hands in the air. “I surrender. Don’t shoot.” I yelled. “I surrender.”

  The three remaining soldiers rose to a crouch, one holding his wounded ear. “Drop your weapon,” one shouted back.

  I made a show of tossing first one rifle, then the other to the ground. They advanced cautiously.

  “Do not move,” said the one who’d spoken earlier.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said in a conversational tone.

  “Is it The Dreaded One?” asked the soldier pressing on his ear.

  “Silence,” snapped his comrade.

  The Dreaded One. How totally cool. I had an ass-kicking nickname among the Adamant. I’d done g
ood.

  All three continued to step toward me. When they were within a meter, I pointed my laser finger and cut two in half before the third realized my duplicity. He fired point-blank at my face but hit the membrane. I cut him head-to-crotch, and he split almost comically, if it weren’t so damn gross.

  I jumped for cover and searched for signs of pursuers. None. I listened carefully. Nothing. I was probably home free. I ran in a zig-zag pattern to the trees covering the forested hill. Once there, I again checked for signs of trouble. I smiled. I’d escaped in one piece. I only hoped some of the others in my squad were as fortunate. But, this was war. Nothing good ever happened. The side that lost the least was the side that won. But the winner always lost more than they could bare.

  TWENTY

  Lesset sipped tea from a solid gold cup and stared rather blankly at the pop-up display table. It depicted the entire front of planets his forces had engaged an hour earlier. This was the forty-third time he stood staring at a display that showed his forces demolishing once functioning and vibrant groups nestled on the once placid surfaces of their home worlds. He’d lost interest in tracking the numbers after his third lopsided victory.

  Finally, as if waking from a deep sleep, he spoke harshly. “Report.”

  Wing Leader Bethalmayus Sandergras stood and walked over to his commander’s side. “We are ahead of schedule, Lord. Losses are extremely light, and major resistance is already waning. Two worlds, Sotovir and Nebulanus, offer no further resistance, aside from isolated recalcitrant rebels.”

  “Fine. And the planet with more robots than living, the one we suspected would be the most trouble?”

  “We are winning. Our progress is slowed by their war-droids. Formidable weapons to be certain. It is estimated that if the robots had another two years, they would have produced a sufficient number of war-droids to make our conquest challenging, if not problematic.”