by Jay Allan
An imperial bot. She was sure of it. She’d encountered them before, and if the one partially visible from behind a mound of broken masonry was of a different type than she’d seen, there were more than enough similarities to eliminate any lingering doubts.
The memories of her encounters with imperial security bots still woke her up some nights, covered in sweat and struggling to hold back her screams.
But those were all badly damaged, barely operational. That thing looks like it’s in almost perfect shape…
She crouched down behind cover and fired half a dozen shots at the bot. She didn’t think her pistol was going to damage it…but it might draw its attention from Sy, and whoever else it had targeted.
She wasn’t sure if she’d succeeded…until a few seconds later, when a section of collapsed wall in front of her blew apart, covering her with a painful shower of stone shards and debris.
She could feel blood trickling down her face, and another two or three small wounds on her arms and midsection from the effects of the blast, but she was still there, and more or less intact. And she had what she’d wanted. The security unit was focused on her now.
Somehow, it didn’t seem as great an idea as it had initially.
She crawled along the ground, staying low, taking advantage of what cover she could find. She cursed herself for not bringing more armament with her. She’d gone out the first few days armed to the teeth, but when no security systems had responded to the search efforts, she’d let herself slack off.
That’s always when you get in trouble…
She was scared, and a little unsure what to do. There were heavier weapons in the small base camp her people had set up near the primary search area, but she was far from certain she could make it there. She’d have to cover some open ground, and she had a pretty good idea just how accurate imperial bots could be with their fire.
She wriggled her way forward, peering around the edge of a pile of debris. She wondered if the bot was still tracking her, of if it had lost contact.
That question was answered when she saw more sparkling light in the dust clouds, and the bot’s laser tore into the wall behind her, bringing down a cascade of crumbling stone. She lunged to the side, just as a large pile of masonry hit the ground where she’d been standing. She was covered in a blanket of dust, but otherwise unharmed.
She reached down to the small comm unit clipped to her jacket. At least you didn’t go out completely unprepared…
“Vig…can you hear me?”
“Yes, Andi…I’ve got you. It looks like you’ve got the thing’s attention. Hang tight and stay low. The Marines are moving into position, and I just made it back to the camp.”
A second later, Andi heard the sounds of fire, the heavy rattle of the Marines’ assault rifles. She’d almost forgotten Tyler had made her take half a dozen of them, every one a veteran handpicked by Bryan Rogan himself. She wasn’t used to having quite that much firepower at her disposal, and despite her still-vulnerable position, she couldn’t help but laugh when she saw the burst of fire that erupted all around the bot. Masonry shattered, and dirt and chunks of stone flew all around. The bot itself was mostly under cover, but what little was exposed took at least half a dozen hits before it sank back down.
Andi knew imperial war machines well enough to know it wasn’t destroyed, not yet. Even the battered and barely functional units she’d encountered in the Badlands had been tough to put down. If the one facing her people now was fully operational, she expected it would put up one hell of a fight, even against her Marines.
She lunged forward. Destroyed or not, the bot’s retreat had given her an opening, one that wouldn’t last. She stumbled forward, running so hard she barely managed to stay on her feet. She dove forward, just as part of the bot appeared around the edge of a wall of debris and opened fire again. She rolled forward, landing hard against a twisted pile of metal and wincing at the pain. She could feel more blood on her arm, and she looked down and saw that she’d taken a gash out of herself. It hurt—a lot—but Andi had always been good at compartmentalizing pain. She had bigger things to worry about just then…like survival.
She heard something moving toward her, boots on the gravel, and she looked up.
“Here, Andi…” It was Vig, reaching out, handing her a heavy rifle and an ammo belt.
“Thanks, Vig.” She grabbed it, and next, she took a small pouch he held out. Grenades, she realized.
She looked back around him, toward the rough line Rogan’s Marines had formed. They were firing on full auto, hosing down the entire area around the bot.
All save one.
At first, Andi thought the Marine had dropped down on his belly to grab cover. But then she saw the blood everywhere, and the huge hole in his armor…and beneath that, his back. She’d lost people before, men and women who’d been with her longer than the Marines had. But it still hurt…and she suspected the dying was not over. Not yet.
“Is everybody else okay, Vig?”
“Sy and Ellia are in the building off to the side. I think they’re okay, but I’m not sure they can make it back, not until we take that thing out. The others are fine, except…” Vig turned his head, glancing over at the dead Marine.
“That thing’s got us pinned down. We’re going to have to come at it from more than one angle.”
“Andi…”
“There’s no choice, Vig. Let me get the thing’s attention again…and have the Marines ready. It won’t take long to damage the bot, not with those guns they’ve got. Assuming I can get them a decent shot.”
“But if that thing comes out after you, it will bring all its weapons to bear. Andi, you know the ones we’ve faced were half-wrecked already. If that thing focuses on you with all it’s got…”
“Just be ready…and make sure the Marines are on the ball.” Not really necessary, she knew. General Rogan had selected the very best of the Corps. They didn’t need to be told what to do. They knew.
She turned and slipped back the way she had come, diving to the ground as she emerged from the battered half wall that had provided her cover. She pushed herself down hard, as though she could force her way into the dirt itself…and she waited.
Waited to see if the bot blew her to bloody chunks. Or if the Marines struck fast and hard enough.
She could hear their fire coming from the side, and also the bot’s weapons opening up. Walls exploded behind her, and more debris fell all around. But then, the fire from the bot ceased. She stayed low, listening to the Marine rifles blasting away, but not daring to raise her head. Then, finally, she looked up, slowly, cautiously.
The bot was on the ground, just in front of the debris it had used as cover. It was still moving, and still firing too, though its targeted system seemed damaged. The laser appeared to be knocked out, and the projectile rounds were ripping forward in a wild pattern, still potentially dangerous, but far less deadly than controlled fire would have been. She put her hand in front of her eyes when a pair of grenades landed near the thing and exploded with a flash. When she looked again, the bot was still moving…but its weapons all appeared to be knocked out.
She scuttled back behind the wall, and she pulled herself up to a prone position. She looked back at the Marines…just as a flash ripped across from another direction, and the Marine closest to her fell back, screaming in pain.
She’d seen it, too clearly. Another laser, visible only where it passed through dust and smoke, had struck his arm, pulling it right off. No, not ripping it away so much as disintegrating it entirely. She figured there was a chance the Marine was still alive, even that he would survive, at least if he got some treatment soon enough. But there was another problem. That shot had come from a different direction, a different bot. And when Andi took a chance and popped her head up to look, she saw that it wasn’t one, but three of the units, all situated off the far right, beyond the camp.
That was more firepower than her people could handle, even with the Marines. Sh
e had no doubt about that, none at all.
Pegasus…
Maybe…just maybe Pegasus’s weapons could take out the bots. But her ship was up on the surface. And even if any of her people could get there, if Pegasus opened fire on the ground, it could very well collapse the entire cavern, burying everyone—and the precious information she’d come to retrieve—below millions of tons of rock and metal.
And if they didn’t try, they were all going to die.
“Vig…can you get back to the ship?” She leaned her head down, even though she knew the comm would pick up what she was saying anyway.
“Maybe…I know what you’re thinking, Andi, but if I…”
“Shut up, and just listen to me. It’s our best chance…our only chance. I’ll use my rifle’s sights to send you targeting data from here. If you run if through the AI, we just might be able to keep the targeting precise, keep the damage to the area around those bots.”
“That’s a wild guess, Andi, and you know it. Even with dead on targeting, this whole place could collapse.”
“And if you waste time arguing with me, those bots will kill us all. Go! Do as I say!”
There was a very short silence. Then, Vig’s voice, grim but definitive. “Okay, Andi…I’ll see if I can make it up there. I’ll signal you when I’m ready.”
Andi just nodded, and she wriggled forward, right against the nearly shattered wall. It would take Vig at least ten minutes to get back to the ship and get the guns powered up. And she had to hack her gun sights, connect them to her comm so she could spot for him. That was a delicate enough job on a table in Pegasus’s lower level. Lying on her side, in pain from half a dozen cuts and gashes, trying to avoid enemy fire, it seemed damn near impossible.
But impossible wasn’t an option. Andi Lafarge didn’t give up.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
UWS Incassable
4,000,000 Kilometers from Montmirail
Ghassara System
Union Year 231 (327 AC)
“Division Two is to reposition at full thrust. I want those ships to come around the rear of the fleet, and take position in front of the Montmirail fortresses.” Andrei Denisov sat on his flagship’s bridge, directing his fleet with all the skill and resolve he could muster.
Which mostly meant constant repositioning efforts, trying to keep as many of his hulls away from the small force he was now certain were Highborn ships. He knew that wasn’t a solution, nor a path to victory. The cold reality was, there was no way to save Montmirail, to hold off the enemy fleet as long as those Highborn forces were still in action. Delaying the inevitable end accomplished nothing…save for one possibility.
What he could do, just maybe, and assuming he could survive long enough, was kill Gaston Villieneuve. He’d identified the flagship of the former First Citizen’s fleet, and he’d done all he could to push his beleaguered and savaged forces forward…a desperate charge to reach Sentinelle, and blast it to atoms. That wouldn’t save his own life, nor those of his spacers, but it would be victory of sorts. Whatever nightmare loomed in the Union’s future, whatever domination by the shadowy and mysterious Highborn, it could only be worse with Villieneuve in the picture.
“Admiral, the unidentified vessels are increasing their acceleration rates and pursuing Division Two.”
Even as the officer made his report, Denisov turned and looked at the display. The Highborn were coming on at nearly twice the maximum acceleration rate of even the newest and most advanced of his ships. His mind had always been quick with calculations, a blessing that quickly turned into a curse as he realized none of the ships in his second division were going to escape to reach the fortresses. Not one.
I should order them to turn about, to close on the enemy. At least that might delay the Highborn…for a short while.
The idea of sending loyal spacers to certain death came hard to him. There was always great risk in battle, but sending spacers and ships against those Highborn vessels was just murder. As purely and simply as if he put a gun to each of their heads and pulled the trigger.
They’re dead already…
The thought was only the truth, but part of him rebelled against it. The ships could still fight, they could still fly. That gave them a chance…some chance, at least.
He could feel his head shaking, rejecting what he tried to tell himself. He’d never been good at ignoring facts in favor of what he wanted to believe, and he’d always been amazed at how adept most people were at the exercise.
“Belay that last order, Commander. Division Two is to reverse thrust and close on the enemy at flank speed.”
There was a short silence, then the officer responded, the hesitation clear in his voice. “Yes…Admiral.”
Denisov listened as the comm officer relayed his command. He wondered what thoughts were going through Commodore Simonetti’s mind, and those of his officers and spacers. They knew, almost certainly, he was sending them to their deaths. Would they obey? Would they mutiny? Would they turn and try to flee?
You already sent them to their deaths. You insisted on making a stand here, on trying to defend Montmirail, even though you knew you had no chance. They’re all going to die for nothing…unless you kill Villieneuve…
“All ships in central division, remove all safeties. We need maximum forward thrust now, whatever the risk. All fire is to be focused on Sentinelle.” His main division, perhaps forty percent of his hulls, were the only ships with any hope of reaching Villieneuve’s flagship. Division Two was being sacrificed to buy the time his center needed to go after the enemy leader. The rest of his fleet served no purpose but to stay in position and die. He felt the urge to give them the order to flee, to allow any vessels close enough to the transit point a chance to escape. But could be maintain control over the remaining ships, the forces formed up around Incassable? It was enough to ask men and women to die…but would they do so while their friends and comrades were fleeing, leaving them behind?
He held back. He couldn’t take the risk. There was no tactical reason to withdraw the rest of his ships.
Tactical reasons, my ass, his thoughts roared inside his head. Those men and women aren’t supplies, they are human beings. And they fought hard. They deserve some chance to survive…
He looked at the display, at Villieneuve’s flagship. That was his destination. There could be no thought of escape for himself, no question of any other course of action…not until that demon was destroyed.
But he had to let the rest of his people go. He couldn’t destroy a monster by becoming one. Some of his people would have a chance to get out of the system. If they could make it back to the Confederation border, maybe some of them could survive, even to fight again. He couldn’t deny them that chance, however slim.
“First Division with Incassable. We’re maintaining course and thrust, moving on Sentinelle. Division Two, hold position, keep those unidentified ships off our backs as long as you can.” A pause, one last hesitation before the human being inside him blurted out, “The rest of the fleet is to break off…and make a run for the transit point.”
“Yes, Admiral.” The officer was scared, that was clear. But there was strength in his tone, more than there had been earlier. He will die well. I hope we can all die well.
Above all, he hoped he could do what he knew he had to do. It was his sole purpose then, the reason he existed.
Time for you to die, Villieneuve…
* * *
“Yes, Andrei…come on. Come forward…and kill me.” Gaston Villieneuve stared at Incassable, and the thirty or so ships formed up behind it, hurtling toward his flagship. Admiral Denisov was clearly determined to do just that, and it was becoming clearer and clearer that his desperate charge just might make it. Sentinelle was in trouble, perhaps grave trouble. Villieneuve figured Denisov had better than even odds to destroy the battleship.
He roared with laughter.
Yes, Sentinelle would likely fall, Denisov’s ships tearing it apart, even as the
y themselves were surrounded and brought to their own ends. Indeed, Denisov was sacrificing himself to take Villieneuve with him. It was a noble effort, a display of astonishing courage.
And foolishness.
Villieneuve turned, looking at a row of monitors before his eyes moved back to the small screen in front of his chair. Yes, Denisov would likely destroy Sentinelle before he met his own end. There was only one problem with his plan.
Gaston Villieneuve wasn’t on the flagship.
Denisov had every reason to believe he was, of course. The orders sent out from the flagship’s comm had been in Villieneuve’s own voice. That had been a simple matter of recording much of what was broadcast, and beaming the rest on tight laser comm to the battleship from the small cutter positioned far back from the action, where Villieneuve sat and watched as his forces, and those of the Highborn, obliterated the enemies that had come so close to destroying him.
Villieneuve smiled as he watched the finale of his long ordeal unfolding before him. He’d held immense power for decades, first as a member of the Presidium, and then, in the aftermath of that body’s destruction, as the Union’s sole and absolute ruler. And he’d come close to losing it all.
Now I will have it back…and I will keep it this time. He would enjoy watching Denisov die. It was something he’d long imagined, and in darker moments, had almost despaired of seeing. Now it was before him, the final moments of the traitorous admiral’s life.
Time to die, Andrei…I only wish I could give you my special attentions, stare into your eyes as you discovered the true depths of agony…
* * *
So close…you were so close…
Sandrine Ciara leaned back in the cushioned acceleration couch and closed her eyes. She’d waited…almost too long, hoping against hope that Denisov would find some way to prevail. But when the admiral had given the order for part of his fleet to flee, and set out himself on a desperate suicide effort to destroy Villieneuve, she’d realized all was lost. Denisov just might manage to kill their mutual enemy, but something inside her refused to believe it. Villieneuve was a hideous monster, but he was a genius as well, and she couldn’t see him meeting his end this way.