by Richard Fox
“About time you bastards came around.” Gage entered the course adjustment and put full power to the engines.
“Commodore,” Price clung to the control panel as the Orion swung to one side, “you’re giving our flank to the Daegon. Their next shot will—”
“Kill us. No different than if we’d kept to ramming,” Gage said. The Orion’s projected course took it away from the Daegon ships and sent it over the horizon. “The enemy thinks we’ve lost our nerve. And…come on…”
In the holo, the three Daegon battleships shifted to point their prows at Gage and his ship. Gage drew back the holo. The Castle Itter closed on the battle, and Gage was shocked at how happy he was to see the Reich’s black and silver colors.
A spine cannon shell erupted from the Castle Itter and bore down on the Daegon ships. The Reich attack hit the flank of a battleship, tore through it like it wasn’t even there, then struck the Medusa in the top of a diamond segment, cracking the ship’s keel and sending the engines spinning away.
“I’ll be damned,” Price said.
“All ships,” Gage transferred helm control back to the bridge, “all ships come about and form a perimeter over Theni. Protect the city. Comms, get Birbal back on the line. The Daegon are broken. We need to finish them off.”
A video hail from the Castle Itter opened up in the holo. Klaven, in a Reich void suit with silver rank badges on his neck, bowed slightly.
“Commodore…Regent,” the Reichsman smiled slightly, “my apologies for not coming into the fight sooner. But the Daegon had the audacity to attack a diplomatic shuttle en route to New Madras. Such an assault on the Kaiserina had to be addressed.”
“You sent a diplomatic mission during this fight?” Gage held a hand inside the holo, ready to issue new orders as his ships formed around the damaged Storm. Captain Haywood signaled that he was still in command of the ship, but it had taken severe damage.
“And I am most heartbroken to say that my imperial minder, Esteban Diaz, was killed in the attack,” Klaven put a hand to his chest. “Tragic, wouldn’t you say?” The noble narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Tragic,” Gage deadpanned.
“Not to get into too much of my ship’s capabilities,” Klaven said, “but my spine cannon will not be available for…some time. There’s little else the Castle Itter can lend to this fight.”
In the holo, the Daegon ships pulled away from New Madras and made for a slip space point. Shuttles and escape pods emerged from the mortally wounded Medusa as the forward section pitched toward the planet.
“Klaven.” Gage put knuckles to his chin. “This diplomatic mission of yours had an armed escort, I’m sure. Where is it now?”
“My good Commodore,” Klaven’s eyes sparkled, “are you about to ask the Reich for another favor?”
CHAPTER 21
Salis led Prince Aidan by the hand as they joined a throng of civilians walking over Duja Bridge. The boy had one hand up next to his face, blocking the chill wind blowing off of the icy river beneath them.
Bertram tried interposing his bulk between the bow and the elements. He readjusted the scarf over his face, catching glances from bundled-up families all around them.
The gudwara gleamed with golden light from the sunrise further down the river.
“Act. Normal,” Salis hissed.
“This bloody weather. Bloody clothes.” Bertram looked back to the near end of the bridge not far from them. Smoke rose from out of control fires throughout the city behind them. “This whole bloody mess. Should’ve stayed on the Orion. I will not have stern words for the commodore, but I may embellish our predicament the next time he bloody well thinks the safest place isn’t in the heart of an armored ship of the line.”
“Bloody cold.” Aidan rubbed an ear. “Bloody rubbish is what it is.”
Salis gave Bertram a hard look, and he busied himself with his scarf.
A siren wail rose in the air, and the civilians on the bridge froze, their heads peaked up, searching the sky for the noise.
Salis’ AI whipped her head around and forced her eyes to focus on three Daegon fighters swooping towards the bridge. The wail grew louder as they closed.
Panic erupted from the Indus, some running for the far side, most turning back to the near river bank. One of the fighters eased away from the other two. Red lines of light formed around their edge of their teardrop-shaped hulls.
“I’m such a fool.” Salis pulled Aidan close, then forced him to the ground. She hunched over him and grabbed Bertram by the sleeve.
“We can make it!” Bertram tried to pull away, gesturing to the near side of the bridge just a few dozen yards away.
Salis yanked him down and used him as a shield over Aidan as the Daegon fighters opened fire. Her armor refolded around her head and bare skin and formed a dome over Aidan.
The bridge shook with impacts and screams from dying civilians filled the air in the wake of the explosions. Salis looked up. The way to the other side of the river was blown out, smoke and pulverized dust rising off the jagged amputation of the bridge. Dead civilians were strewn about, survivors wandered around in blood-soaked shock.
The other side, leading back to the where they’d came, was half gone. A crater, the ends crumbling into the river, took up almost two-thirds of the only route back.
“You OK, Prince Aidan?” Bertram half shouted, his ears damaged by the concussions. His eyes were wide, tiny trails of blood leaking down the side of his head and from his nose.
Salis got to her feet and unlocked her carbine from off her back. Aidan hugged her leg, his face buried against his shoulder. She scanned through the crowd retreating back over what remained of the bridge. She backed up and raised her weapon, moving slowly toward the blown out edge.
“What’re you…what’re you doing?” Bertram fumbled with his scarf, then threw it aside. “The bridge is out. We need to go…back.”
The crowd of civilians lessened. Blurred outlines emerged from the back, knocking aside any that got too close. Tiberian materialized, flanked by several of his hunters.
Tiberian strode forward, one hand on the pommel of a sword, the other held open to his side.
“Give him to me, Genevan,” Tiberian’s voice boomed across the bridge.
Salis’ heel scraped over the edge. She looked down past the bent metal spars. Hunks of ice swept along the current, along with loose bits of metal from crashed fighters and more than one floating corpse.
+Too cold for him,+ her AI sent.
Salis hefted Aidan onto her hip and leveled the carbine at Tiberian.
He stopped ten feet away and gestured for her to come to him with a claw-tipped hand.
“You will not let him die,” Tiberian said. “I know your oaths. As my prisoner, he will live, that I promise. You can stay with him as a nurse maid, but without that abomination in your mind or the metal around your body. A pain torque. Rags. You can have those and the boy’s life. Last offer.”
“Albion’s light burns!” Bertram shouted, fumbling with his pistol. “We will never give in to you monsters. You—”
The rest of the hunters raised their weapons up and small laser dots shone off of his heart and the bridge of his nose.
“You claim to know my House.” Salis gripped Aidan tight. “You know nothing of us, tyrant. I have my orders, and any free Albion would rather die on his feet than live on his knees.”
Bertram looked at her with a moment of confusion. She dropped her carbine to the ground and grabbed the steward by the belt. His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to protest.
“Prince Aidan will never be your slave. You cannot have him!” Salis jumped off the bridge, taking the boy and Bertram with her. They hit the water as one, sending up a splash, and sank into the current.
Tiberian rushed to the edge and looked down, catching the last of their ripple. His grip tightened on his hilt, the anger contorting his face hidden behind his mask.
“The water temperature,” one of his
hunters said. “If they haven’t drowned yet…they’ll be dead in minutes. Your writ, master, your writ is complete.”
Tiberian grabbed the man by the front of his armor and swept him to one side, holding his dangling feet over the river.
“When I see the body, that is when my task is done! You wish to test the waters yourself?” Tiberian tossed him back onto the bridge. “Alert the other packs. Search downstream. Find the bodies. We’re not leaving this place until I have proof that they’re dead.”
****
Cold lanced through Salis’ body as the river flowed over her. She lay in a submerged debris field, wan light wavering through the water from the sky, teasing at warmth. A faint sensation of heat glowed through her midsection, where Aidan was enclosed in a her armor. She’d got the protective layer over the boy right as they hit the water, and he was fully enclosed by the time they hit the riverbed, but he’d still gotten wet and she felt him shivering as her suit struggled to keep his core temperature high.
One of her hands gripped the edge of a bridge section, the other was over Bertram’s mouth. Her plates shifted over his face as a respirator.
Bertram jerked like a fish caught on the end of a line. She looked at him and her heart sank. He had nothing to fight the frigid embrace. Already his limbs were jerking haphazardly and she could see the deep blue of hypothermia flooding his exposed skin.
+Air left.+ A timer reading 4:12 came up over her vision. Another number, more subdued, next to it had 17:23.
“I can’t do it,” she said.
+He is not our principal. Do not risk the life that matters.+
Her hold on Bertram’s face slipped ever so slightly and she tightened her grip and a moan escaped the steward and fed into her helmet.
“He…matters to me.” She willed the words to the AI rather than waste air speaking.
“S-S-Salis? Can you h-hear me?” Bertram asked, teeth chattering.
She nudged the hand holding his face up and down.
“C-can’t keep me.” He tried to grab her arm, but his fingers were frozen stiff. “Air. For the boy. Let me go.”
She shook her head side to side.
+Do it.+
He’ll die!
+Your oath.+
A stab of ice hit her heart, one that had nothing to do with the river.
“Let me go.” Bertram tried to kick at her, pulling away from her hold. “Tell him…tell him Master Berty loves him. You know…know what he likes to eat. Take care of him…take care of…my Prince.” The fight went out of Bertram and his face went slack.
Salis pulled him close and touched his face.
“Forgive me.” She put one hand to his chest and thrust him away. The current caught him and he vanished into the murk.
CHAPTER 22
Tiberian sprinted across a roof top and vaulted over the gap to the next building. One hand caught the ledge and he continued on, barely breaking his stride. Hunters followed, like wolves struggling to keep up with the alpha on the scent.
“Uncle!” Gustavus’ static-laced voice cut into his ears. “Uncle, the…the Medusa…she’s dead in space. My father is injured.”
“Not my concern, boy.” Tiberian dove off the building and hit the wall of a half–wrecked factory, catching it with claws in his gloves and feet. He slid down, leaving gouges in the façade.
“The orbitals are—tenable…Reich…have to leave! Retreat, retreat now…you have command,” Gustavus said.
“The ferals put up a fight and you fold this quickly?” Tiberian looked up. Contrails of burning debris traced across the sky. He glanced to one of his hunters.
“Shuttle and escort can be here in eight minutes,” he said.
“Summon them.” Tiberian trotted around a corner to a supply yard next to the river where one of his packs was huddled around a body. “I may have my answer.” He touched the grey metal box hanging from his neck.
“The feral still has brain function,” a hunter kneeling next to Bertram’s half frozen body said. Wires and tubes snaked from the hunter’s armor to Bertram’s open mouth, nose, and into his clothing. “I’ve stabilized him, but a full resuscitation might—”
“Do it,” Tiberian drew his sword.
Electricity jolted Bertram and his chubby body went into spasms.
A neon blue liquid ran down a tube and into Bertram’s chest, just over his heart.
Bertram inhaled deeply and sat up, gagging on the line in his throat. They snapped out with an ugly sound from the steward.
“By the grace of the Lord, thank ye,” he sputtered and held up a hand. “Where am I? What…happened?” Bertram looked up at Tiberian’s face. “Ah…hell.”
Tiberian grabbed a fistful of Bertram’s top and hoisted him up in the air. He stabbed the tip of his sword into his solar plexus, the metal pierced the fabric and scraped at the flesh beneath.
“Where is the boy?” Tiberian asked.
“Dead!” Bertram looked down, his face flush from the drugs that revived him. “I saw…saw him slip away into the current. The Genevan…the water did something to her armor, she froze up. Malfunction—ah!”
Tiberian let the point slip into Bertram’s flesh and a thin line of blood ran down the blade.
“Are you lying to me?” Tiberian snarled. “Why don’t I rip out your tongue to be sure?”
A single shot rang out and the sword shattered. Tiberian tossed Bertram aside and whirled around, the broken hilt of his weapon still in hand.
Hunters on the perimeter of the supply yard opened fire, and the crack of heavy caliber weapons answered.
“What is this?” Tiberian asked as a half dozen reports flooded his ears all at once. “Fall back and hold until our extraction arrives.” He looked down at Bertram. The man lay on one side, the tip of the sword impaled an inch deep in his chest. Bertram had both hands on the edges, pulling weakly and wincing in pain.
“I’m not done with you,” Tiberian said.
“Master, look out!”
Tiberian looked up at the third floor of the nearby blown out factory as someone crashed through the glass and came down at Tiberian like a missile.
Thorvald landed feet first on a hunter, crushing the man to death. Reichsmarines crashed through the bottom level and charged. Their matte black armor and glowing eyes gave them a demonic air.
Thorvald pointed at Tiberian.
“You,” the Genevan said.
“Kill them!” Tiberian sprang at Thorvald and struck with the broken sword. Thorvald rolled forward under the blow and swept a leg out, catching the Daegon commander across the ankles.
Tiberian tucked his head and shoulders and took the fall on his back, flipping around onto his feet and slashing across his body as Thorvald closed to attack, a punch dagger molded out of the Genevan’s armor over his right hand.
The too short blade missed Thorvald’s neck by an inch, and he stabbed his own weapon at Tiberian’s sternum. It glanced off to one side, leaving a deep gouge in the metal.
“Dog!” Tiberian punched the pommel into Thorvald’s visor and popped the Genevan’s head back. He brought the hilt up and smashed it down towards the back of Thorvald’s head.
Thorvald swooped his head to one side, then snapped it back up, the back of his helmet catching Tiberian on the chin.
Thorvald punched his blade arm at the Daegon’s heart.
Tiberian took the blow on the forearm, and the blade pierced through both sides of his arm. Deep purple blood spurted out and hit Thorvald’s visor. Tiberian brought his other arm up, flipped the grip on his sword, and stabbed Thorvald in the shoulder. The jagged end squealed as it gouged deeper into the armor.
Plates shifted up to the damaged area, wedging themselves beneath the point of impact and inching the blade up and up.
Tiberian and Thorvald locked eyes through their masks, both straining to finish the other.
“Finally…” Tiberian said, “a decent fight.”
“Your last.” Thorvald’s punch dagger retract
ed, earning a snarl of pain from Tiberian, and ducked forward. The broken sword skidded down his back as he drove a shoulder into Tiberian’s stomach.
The Genevan drove forward and lifted Tiberian up behind his knees, driving the Daegon’s head and shoulders into the concrete with a loud crack. Thorvald drew a hand across his body and the armor formed a curved blade along the edge of his hand.
He swiped at Tiberian’s neck, only to have the blow stopped dead by the Daegon’s bleeding forearm.
Tiberian cocked the thumb on his other hand out, and a long nail telescoped off the tip. He drove the nail up and into the bottom of Thorvald’s jaw. The nail pierced through the armor and into Thorvald’s mouth, stopping against the bottom of his skull.
Thorvald pulled back, blood gushing from the hole.
Tiberian rolled to his feet and hooked a punch at Thorvald. The Genevan ducked, taking a glancing blow, then hit Tiberian in the middle of the damaged line on the armor across his torso. The armor buckled and air whooshed out of Tiberian’s lungs.
Thorvald slammed an elbow into Tiberian’s jaw, breaking the mask and sending the bottom half flying away. Tiberian stumbled back and Thorvald pressed forward. Thorvald kicked out, but Tiberian turned and deflected the blow with an arm.
Thorvald landed with a wide stance and caught a fist to the chest. He struck back, hitting Tiberian in the temple and knocking the Daegon’s head from side to side like a swaying bell.
Tiberian grabbed Thorvald by the shoulders, reared back, and slammed his forehead against Thorvald’s visor.
Thorvald’s world went dark as the blow shattered the front of his helmet. He didn’t see the kick Tiberian aimed for his stomach, but he felt it when the blow sent him flying. His AI ejected the ruined visor and he looked up to see Tiberian being dragged back by several of his hunters to a Daegon shuttle coming down for a landing just behind him.
Tiberian ripped off his mask and threw it at the Genevan.
“We’re not done, you traitor! I’ll have your head on a pike before this war is done!” Tiberian shouted.