Space Knights- Last on the Line

by Emerson Fortier

  Further down, just entering the hills, stretched the black tide of the enemy. It undulated as pushed up into the mountains and he could hear the roar of the human wave echoed back to him off the mountain faces deeper into the range. It was the front runners they contended with now, if they were caught up by the actual enemy, he didn’t imagine they would survive. He wondered, vaguely through the pain and weariness, if they would accept surrenders.

  He didn’t have time to give it more thought. A face down the hill popped up again and a beam of plasma splashed over Pete while three other soldier’s sprinted for the foot of their hill. Moses unholstered his own pistol and fired at an angle along the steep hill they’d had to climb to reach the top of this part of the pass. Rock and dirt exploded and huge stacks of loose stone cascaded down towards the three charging men, slowing their headlong rush. Argo took care of the enemy gunner and then Pete was firing down at theor three attackers who ducked for the cover of a large boulder at the foot of the hill.

  Moses pushed himself up. “Lets go.” He said. He limped down the low hill that led to a narrow plateau between two cliff faces. Pete let go another salvo of flechettes at the men below then followed after Moses. Despite Moses lead he quickly passed but waited for him at the top of the next hill that Moses would have to climb. There were three more hills Moses could see behind him, and familiar as he was with the eastern range of the Mighty River, albeit on the opposite side, he expected dozens more before they would reach the mining facility ten miles into the mountains. The limp made walking a project, and Moses was already tired from running, and fighting, and more running, and limping now.

  Moses pushed himself onto the hill, digging with hands and foot while he tried to use the stiff leg as a prop. The scree broke again as Moses climbed and he slid, not too far this time, but again he heard the voices behind them and saw bolts of cation plasma suck static electricity from the stones above him leaving blackened craters where they dissipated. Moses grit his teeth and continued to climb. Eventually he reached the top, out of breath despite the suit’s augmentation to his strength. “Could really use that pack master now.” Moses panted.

  Pete nodded. “My legs are tired of running.”

  Moses paused just long enough to glance at the enemy horde and gauge the speed of its advance. Too fast, he knew, too fast for him to outdistance it. If that was true then there was no point going on, but then again he might get lucky, and find a small rearguard left to defend the pass over the next hill, perhaps a knot of friendlies he could lean on for support, or they would send back hounds to get them.

  A medium gunner gained the ridge they had just left and rounds burst against their shields. “Go.” Pete said. Moses didn’t wait, he let himself roll down the opposite side of the hill and almost skidded into the river which cut a long flat path through the piles of fallen stone he and Pete had to clamber over.

  “If only I had a boat.” He thought, but there was a waterfall ahead, not huge, but big enough to stop a boat. Stone had been broken from the cliff face to either side to form a ramp of loose rock which the army had used to climb up. It would make a good spot to turn and fight, perhaps someone else would be up there, thinking the same thing. More likely it would be empty, but he might be able to buy Pete enough time to escape.

  The flags dragged gravel with them as he stood. The static in them lifted it in gobbets that dripped from the cloth as he half stumbled half dragged his leg along towards the waterfall. He heard more shots behind him, and Pete’s flechette pistols spitting fire in short bursts. Moses reached the base of the improvised ramp and turned back. The roar of the waterfall filled his hearing, but the suit did strange things to sound so he could still hear the weapons fire from the place Pete stood at the top of the last hill. “Pete, come on!” Moses shouted. He pulled himself up a boulder and began to scramble up the steep incline beside the waterfall. He depended on his hands for locomotion more than his legs at this point and he could feel every joint aching where it contacted the suit’s controls. He turned when he was half way up and saw Pete still fighting at the hilltop. “Let’s go!” He shouted.

  More shots hammered the top of the hill and Pete leapt down after Moses, sprinting after him and up the top of the hill at a speed that left Moses depressed as he limped along behind him once again. There were places Pete had leapt up the boulders that Moses had to clamber around in order to get up, and each stone was slick with spray from the waterfall that roared beside him as it tumbled into a wide pool. When he finally reached the top of the waterfall there was no rear guard of Marain soldiers. No sign of the Marain army at all, except for broken stone and churned up gravel, a light taint of silt drifting in the river from upstream.“They should have left a rear guard here.” Moses said aloud. He turned to look for the enemy that he would have to face sooner or later.

  The army was still there. A black stain upon the pampas and the rolling hills. Moses was steeling himself to order Pete onward while he held the hill when he realized that the wave was no longer advancing. The black tide undulated as it receded over the hills and rough terrain to spill back out onto the pampas. Even as he watched he saw their pursuers, the front runners, appear on a ridge farther back. One of them fired at them and the rounds ricocheted from their shields to buzz and whine around the river canyon before the retreating faces disappeared, reappearing again further down the gorge.

  “We’ve done it.” Moses said. Even as he said it he didn’t believe it. Even as he watched it he didn’t believe it. They’d made it, not just to the hills but they’d survived. The adrenaline which had kept him moving drained out of him and he collapsed laughing. His laughter echoed as the ricochettes had and he lay in the dust, too tired and sore to move, too happy with relief to try. He did manage to take off his helm and suck in some fresh air. It stank with the smell of chalk and rock dust, and the thunder of the waterfall was louder without his helmet on, but anything was better than the stench of sweat which filled his suit. They were alive, and they were safe, and he would not have to send Pete away to face his enemy alone.

  “My occupant requires medical attention.”

  Moses didn’t recognize the voice. He shifted to look up at Pete. Silhouetted against the sun, the bloody hand on his chest now white with dust, Moses couldn’t see anything wrong with him, that is, until he shifted, and the shadow over Pete’s face resolved into a horrific scar he recognized as the mark of a Kamele medium’s gun.

  “Pete.” His heart sank.

  Moses pushed himself up and limped to the suit of armor. Blood dripped from a pucker in the silver faceplate and Moses reached for him as their shields merged. The helm detached and Moses removed it to drop it next to his own. Beneath, Pete’s small eyes looked out at him in wide horrified delirium. Shrapnel from the blast had scoured one side of his face, punctured one eye, a cheek, sliced his tongue, and put three holes through his neck which bubbled with blood when he tried to speak or breath. “Pete.” Moses said.

  “My occupant requires medical attention.” The suit said again. Pete opened his mouth to say something but only a low gurgling and a flow of blood issued from his torn lips to splatter the knight’s already bloody chest plate.

  “Its okay.” Moses said. “It’s okay.” He tried to think what he could do. He knew nothing about medicine. If he’d been a porqine he might have known how to bind up his back plates or splint his legs, but he was a man, and his face was half gone. He opened his mouth again and Moses shook his head. “Argo.” Moses said. “Help me.”

  “There is little you can do.” The machine told him. “Blood loss through his neck wound is beyond repairable levels.”

  “Tell me what I can do.”

  “Apply pressure.” The AI told him.

  So Moses did. The suit sat the bleeding man down in the gravel, and Moses put his hands to the wounds in his neck and pressed down, not enough to choke him, but enough to slow the flow of blood. Even so, he could see the life draining from Pete’s eyes, and he remember
ed him running behind him on the Pampas, saving his life when he was crawling around on the battlefield.

  “I’m your buddy.” Moses told him. “I won’t let you die.” Alone, he would have added, but it seemed cruel to say he was already doomed. Pete tried to talk, all the way up to the end. He opened and closed his mouth, and looked out of his one good eye as though surprised to find himself lying in the dirt looking up at the sky. Moses held him, he held him long after his mouth stopped moving and his breath failed, long after the eye closed and the blood began to harden, long after the enemy drained out of the hills and the sun fell from the sky to abandon him on the mountain beside the dead man, whispering prayers while war machines shifted in the sky like stars.

  He could not stay with the man, some part of him knew, though he had stayed by Moses’ side even when Moses thought he would be a dead man.The enemy that left the hills would undoubtedly make a return, and by that time he would need to be gone. But for now, just for now, he would stay, to keep vigil and pray over his friends body. The war would wait until morning. “Dear Jesus.” He whispered. “Let it wait.”

  The End

  Dear reader:

  Thank you for reading “Last on the Line”, the first book in the “War for Marain” series. If you liked the book and are hoping for a sequel you will not be disappointed. I am already hard at work on the next chapter in the story of Moses, Charles, and Carthalo, and expect to have the “Space Knights: All of Nothing” finished in time for Christmas. If you are looking for more content like “Space Knights” or just want to receive updates on the progress of the sequel, you can visit my website, Emersonfortier.com, and subscribe to my newsletter, or like my page on Facebook. I look forward to sharing the adventure with you.

  In Christ

  Emerson Fortier