Warp Wraith, page 40
Desolator rose at a sharp angle from Circe, thrusters blazing. Orloks raced vainly after her, seeking a way through the lethal tapestry of the firefight engulfing her to her landing bays. But the dreadnought clearly had no intent of gathering orphaned starfighters; its intent was escape, alone.
Madness, Callisto thought, gaping. The dreadnought had no guarantees of winning the shoot-out over Circe; but it had zero chance of victory in retreat, and it exposed itself to worse than that with its flight. Whoever was calling the shots from her bridge had lost their nerve—and it was costing them.
Another bolt ravaged up from Malvik to dazzle the Desolator’s aft shields. These failed with a wild forking of energy that rippled back across her hull in secondary explosions. Mauler, wheeling to get into position, let loose with an off-angle volley of torpedoes. These cut through the opening to splatter across the dreadnought’s flank, ripping open huge wounds in her hull. But the last of the quantum streaks broke up as they struck a re-energizing shield barrier—the dreadnought’s crew diverting power to cover its tail.
“She’s running!” Venture’s voice called frantically across the tactical network. “She’s getting clear!”
“No, she’s not,” another voice—Brula’s—grated.
Peltast cut in on the dreadnought’s flank, not having to fight gravity like the bigger ship; just running straight in on it at a perpendicular line. The Desolator’s flank guns blazed frantically at the smaller ship, ripping its shields apart in a dazzle of unraveling energy fields and scorching hull plate. A blister of flame silenced one of the cruiser’s turbo-blaster turrets. A flurry of follow-up blasts finished the rest and left the ship looking more like a hulk of flaming garbage. But blue glow still throbbed from her engines and she didn’t let up.
“Brula!” Callisto called. “Captain, pull out! Let them go!”
Looking at the rocketing ruin that was Peltast, Callisto realized with a lump in his throat that there may very well be no one left alive on the cruiser’s bridge to answer. There might not even be a bridge. But the ship careened on, showing no sign of halting. And Callisto understood the Brula’s plan had never been to survive this last run.
Desolator attempted a last-minute turn into the onrushing wreck, trying to absorb a sideswipe, rather than a direct collision. Fighting the pull of Circe and her own inertia, she had no chance. Peltast crashed into her like a blazing projectile, crumpling in her flank and likely warping the ship’s structure down to the keel. Hull-plates buckled and burst loose at the impact, releasing clouds of vaporizing atmosphere that mixed with sparks to become a billowing churn of fire. An intact anti-matter engine nozzle cinched and broke off from the thruster package, whole. And the entire, five-kilometer mass began to wheel out of control, its remaining engines belching puffs of incandescence before blacking out.
“By the Flux...” Callisto gasped, sickened and awed simultaneously.
“She isn’t finished!” Venture exclaimed over the tactical network.
Callisto steered his Slayer for the tumbling wreck and poured power into his engines. “She will be soon!”
“Belay that!” the Wraith called out, silencing the jabber of voices on the channel. “All ships, turn your fire to the surface! Fighters re-group for new assignments!”
“Are you crazy...?” Callisto spat before he could think better of it.
“You know the answer to that,” Malik snapped back. “Desolator’s dead in space. Listen to me. Revenants, listen! We can come back for her. The fight’s on the surface!”
A hint of reason cooled the edges of red forming at the corners of Callisto’ vision. But the dreadnought was still there, its momentum carrying it where its engines hadn’t; free of Circe’s gravity, to tumble powerlessly through the void.
“We’ve got friends down there, on the surface,” Malik pleaded. “Revenants—my friends—victory is on the planet below!”
Victory. Callisto heard the word rattling around in his skull like a meaningless hunk of scrap. Brula was gone, now, too. Kreeve and the others before that. Maybe Everlid, too. His hand trembled on the control stick. What does that word even mean?
“I need you all, now,” Malik said. “Circe needs us.”
Callisto wrenched his Slayer back for the planet.
EDIE AND INGRID REACHED the town square of Reyes with the survivors from the trench line following. A Freedom Brigade hover tank burned in the middle of it, turned to slag by the Behemoth’s firepower. Two more were sliding into the open from the road north through the village, jolting out blasts from their main guns.
“The far side!” Edie hollered to the others. “Get to the—”
Lightning touched one of newly-arrived tanks and the explosion that followed rocked Edie off her feet. She didn’t recall hitting the pavement; only rolling as fumes and metal rained down around her. She came to a halt, laying on her right side and looking as the fiery pyre that had been the tank’s chassis a moment before.
The other tank was swerving away from its felled sister. A boxy, stubby-gunned hull, it looked almost ludicrous—an antique facing off against the durasteel monster looming over the town. But it was nimble and the Behemoth’s secondary armaments couldn’t draw a bead on it, scooping trenches from the paves with cyan spears while its main gun traversed with a long whine heard between the lesser weapons’ reports. The Freedom Brigade tank got off another shot, the azure bolt striking the Behemoth’s turret with a clap-CLANG of ricochet.
“Up!” a voice demanded, sounding tinny and distant. A shadow loomed over Edie and suddenly Ingrid was there, a hand around her arm, pulling her up again. “Can’t stay out here!”
Awareness and urgency returned to Edie at the were-woman’s rough handling. She allowed herself to be dragged to her feet, but as soon as she was there, she was shaking Ingrid off and staggering for the buildings on the far side of the square under her own power.
Another flash sent her into a duck as she reached an alley off from the open space. Turning back, she saw slagged bits of pavement geyser skyward from a crater in the square. As these cleared, the light hover tank became visible again, sideslipping ahead of its massive foe’s ability to track it. But it was running out of square.
Moff reached Edie’s spot at run, followed by a pair of Hardcases bringing a rocket launcher and reloads. She waved them to her and they slammed into the alleyway without ceremony, jostling those already there.
“Hand it over,” Edie ordered—realizing she’d left her blaster rifle somewhere out in the open. “Now!” she repeated at the rocketeer’s hesitation. The man complied and she hefted the tube-weapon onto her shoulder. “Everyone, fall back to the south side of town!”
“You serious?” Moff protested.
“Look at those things,” she countered. “You think we’re doing any good here?” As he stiffened in resistance, she added in a softer note, “One shot and I’ll be right behind you.”
Hissing something, the little man gestured furiously to the others and the alley emptied out. The rocket crew dropped their three-round ammo clips at his feet. He was the last to go, throwing her a look that told her she’d better not be lying to him.
“You too,” she told Ingrid, who lingered at her side.
“I am not in your chain of command, Captain,” came the reply. Ingrid was kneeling to scoop up one of the discarded rocket clips. “I will reload for you.”
Edie lacked the energy to argue as she levelled the launcher, retracted her helmet visor, and pressed its holographic site piece to her cheekbone and eye. Targeting schemata sprang up across her vision, painting the monstrous silhouette of the Behemoth. The super-heavy hover tank squatted atop the pass and the edge of the town like a bloated metal dragon, ready to consume the rest. It was trying to follow the already-pulverized path of the main road, but its width meant its skirts dragged and caught on wreckage to either side, impeding it.
The delay meant Edie might get more than one shot, might even get through the first missile clip before the beast turned its guns on her. She had little hope that any of anti-matter warheads would do more than mar the super-heavy’s hide. But she put that fear from her mind as she took a settling breath and clenched the launcher’s hand grip.
The targeting halo steadied on the shuddering turret. Right...there...
The turret vanished in a sun-bright strobe.
Edie flinched away, dropping the launcher to shield her face with her arms. A titanic roar filled the air. She glanced off the wall beside her and plopped onto her buttocks, thrown there by the terrible sound and the shockwave that rolled down through the Gap.
Blinking, she patted herself after a numb moment. Am I dead? Fingers encountered her living, intact flesh. Did it fire? She looked skyward. A great fireball was mushrooming up into the blue. What the hell?
Through the subsiding thunder came the sound of cheers. Ingrid was up on her feet, joining them as she stood at the opening to the alley. Throats were hollering themselves raw from every foxhole, every rubble-strewn position in Reyes.
What...? Edie struggled back to her feet and limped to Ingrid’s side.
Standing at the head of alley, looking out across the square to the top of the pass and the edge of town, she beheld a great inferno devouring the mass of the Behemoth. As she watched, another flash smote the sky, this one striking something on the reverse slope south of Reyes. Another mushroom cloud fumed for the heavens. More spears of destruction rained down from the wispy blue; turbo-blaster vengeance, seeking Theocracy armor on the open countryside, south of the Magvars.
“Orbital bombardment!” Ingrid cried out over the ongoing thunder. “It’s ours!”
Edie gave herself a shake. Things hurt inside her. Fatigue lined her vision with gray. “Are you...sure?”
Columns of smoke bleeding into the air to the south made a mockery of her question. But Ingrid grinned, nevertheless. “He did it!” she declared fervently. “He must have turned the tide in space!”
The bombardment was intensifying and walking south with an ongoing crash. The Theocracy armor and troops would be out in the open, having pressed north, out from under the shield protections of Aleister. The Revenants would have plenty of targets.
Edie released a breath and let herself slide down the wall at her side, settle into an upright pile at the alleyway corner.
“Are you alright?” Ingrid asked with sudden concern, kneeling at her side.
Edie listened to the peals of thunder, the cheers interspersed between them. She looked up at the other woman, frowning as a sensation she’d never really experienced filled her.
“Is this victory?” she asked. “Did we win?”
Ingrid’s lips peeled back from teeth that lengthened to fangs and should have been terrifying—but Edie was getting used to fighting alongside monsters.
Chapter 21
EVERILD SAT, PROPPED up with pillows on his cot in his tightly-packed quarters. With him conscious once more, the surgeons had moved him there to make room for Vengeful’s plentiful wounded in the sickbay. Damage had left power at a minimum and the room was lit by a single light and warmed by a portable heater. The gloom only accentuated the shadows of his gaunt face.
“You’ve looked better,” Malik quipped, standing over him.
Everild managed a hoarse chuckle. “It’s still better than you.”
“See,” Callisto, standing at Malik’s side, jibed, “he is recovering.”
The remnants of Malik’s face crinkled into a smile under the mask. The truth was, as relieving as it was to see Everild alive and awake, his ordeal had left him shockingly frail to see. But damn it was still a relief.
“Marta believes you will make a full recovery with time,” he told the Admiral. “But she’d like to transport you to the surface and more robust arrangements.”
“I’m staying with my ship—” Everild smiled thinly “—what of it you’ve left me.”
Malik exchanged a look with Callisto. “You want me to have the Doc come back in here and talk sense to him?” the younger man asked with a crooked grin.
Malik shook his head—having heard the accusation in that tone—and met Everild’s eyes, said softly, “Whatever you want, Dom.”
Everild nodded stiffly, satisfied. But a twinkle of something else lit his eyes. “Down to the surface, eh?” His smile spread. “You did it. You’ve taken and held a Theocracy world.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re holding anything yet,” Malik replied. “The surviving Theocracy ground forces are falling back, south of the Central Basin. It looks like they’re abandoning Aleister, but there are other cities, more-easily defended. And that allows them to concentrate under what anti-orbital shielding they still control.” He sighed and the mask gave it a ring like metal sharpening. “We’re going to have to dig them out.”
“And there’s certain to be another attempt to relieve the planet from Bahamut,” Everild noted.
“We know they have more ships, yes.”
“Not just from within this system,” Everild pressed.
Seeing the direction of this, Malik nodded. “Of course.”
Everild’s blue eyes locked with Malik’s for a lingering moment and his lips relaxed to a serious, straight line. He turned that no-nonsense stare on Callisto. “Dee, could you please leave us for a bit?”
Callisto shot Malik a look, who returned it with a shrug and a nod. The younger man stepped to the side of the cot and gently patted Everild’s shoulder. “Glad to see you complaining again, Admiral.”
“Get out of here,” Everild snorted fondly and touched the pilot’s hand before letting him withdraw from the chamber.
Alone with Everild, Malik folded his arms before his chest and awaited the inevitable. Silence stretched as the Admiral looked out the viewport beside him, gaze lingering on the blue-green expanse of Circe below.
“You found none of them alive?” he asked at last.
“No.” Malik winced. “We were too late.”
Everild turned his icy blue eyes back on him. “Having a newly-liberated pack of super-soldier dhampirs was kind of key to the plan, here, Mal.”
“Plans change.”
“I’ll say,” Everild huffed. “How many ships do we have left?”
“Vengeful, of course, and Mauler.” Malik winced again. “And a dozen Slayers.”
Everild’s stare was withering. “All in the same shape?”
“It was a hard fight.”
“The next one will be harder.” Everild sagged back on the pillows. “The Theocracy will never allow this humiliation to stand.”
“I know that,” Malik replied. “I’ve already thought it through. We’ll call for reinforcements from Farbanks.”
The Revenants had spent years building up their hideout on the out-of-the-way planet. They’d secured and towed-in a repair dock. They’d constructed a fortress with defenses capable of standing off orbital bombardment. And the scant, semi-feral population had taken to working for the Revenants, eager for employment, or just a chance to get access to the off-worlders’ high technology. Uncomfortably, many had begun to worship “the Wraith”, just as had been the case on so many worlds.
“You mean you’ll empty it out.” Everild was saying and shaking his head. “You’ll be committing everything we have left to this.”
Malik raised a clenched fist and gave it a shake. “This—Circe—is everything we have left, Dom.”
Everild scowled, unfazed by the theatrics. “Mal, you have to contact the Rebel Stars again.” His eyes narrowed. “You have to convince them to help us.”
Malik folded his arms, once more, considering that.
“My hope is that the disturbance of this will do that convincing for us,” he said. “You’re right; the Immortals can’t let this stand. Once word is out, it’ll embolden resistance movements everywhere. They’ll need to stamp us out in a big way to prevent that. That’ll mean drawing forces from other fronts. That will mean opportunities the Stars can’t resist.”
Everild’s weary smile returned. “Making a lot of assumptions, there, old friend.”
“They will come,” Malik insisted. “They’ll have to.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
Silence stretched between them again. The Flux warmed in Malik’s soul, catching it from Everild’s presence. He could sense the other man’s doubt; but he was glad the old man was still around to argue the point with.
“And now I’ll be leaving you,” Malik said. “There’s a celebration of sorts on the surface, and politics to deal with. The Freedom Brigades have never had a win like this, and it’s bringing out all sorts of divisions and opportunists.”
“Better you than me.”
With a gentle touch to the arm, Malik turned away and started for the door.
“Mal,” Everild called after him. He waited until Malik turned back to him before continuing. “We’re crossing into uncharted waters, now,” he said. Icy blue eyes grew frostier, still. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
He had thought he knew when they first came here. Now, that had all been blown to hell. And the ludicrousness of it all suddenly overwhelmed Malik. Two badly-damaged ships to hold the planet from space. A mismatched collection of guerillas and criminals and witches to face the Theocracy’s still-potent ground forces on the surface.
Ludicrous.
But he thought of new friends, down below. He thought of a dead girl, babbling about destinies, utterly convinced, even as she passed from this world. And he thought of Edie and the potential he could now feel, unlocked within her.
“Maybe I don’t, completely,” Malik admitted to Everild. “But the Flux will show us the way.”
THE SCORPIOD’S ENGINES wound down in a swirl of dust as Callisto stepped down its boarding ramp into a Circe dusk. He paused there, looking out at the dome at the center of Malvik, festooned with chains of lamps connecting it to the rest of the town’s buildings. The mountaintop and anti-orbital station at its peak above were quiet. But the town, itself, rang with music and merriment as the light of day reddened toward night.
