Michael almost cheered as the attack craft sent their missiles into the back of the mech’s massive head. The ground unit’s shields flared briefly but it was otherwise untroubled. It turned to return fire, giving Michael enough time to sprint for the distant tree line.
He sank into the welcome gloom of the jungle and pressed himself to the ground, watching the one-sided battle unfold in the clearing. The mech released a missile from a bay under its wrist. It veered straight for the nearest icebird and struck its aft shield before it could wheel away. The craft ruptured immediately, sending a deluge of sparks and debris over the clearing.
Several corsairs were now sprinting across the open area, taking the opportunity to join Michael in the trees. The second icebird peppered the tower mech with laser bolts, but those guns were really only designed for lightly armored targets like probe drones. The mech swatted at the dipping icebird with surprising speed. The balled fist sent the doomed air unit sailing across the verdant canopy and out of sight.
Varosk was among the soldiers who had made it through to Michael’s position. “We keep moving,” he said through gritted teeth, clearly smarting from the battalion’s heavy losses. The corsairs picked their way through the undergrowth, aware of the relentless thud of the mech’s footsteps behind them. The crash of splintering trees got louder and louder, forcing them to push themselves beyond the limits of exhaustion.
The dreaded flak gun opened up once the mech got a sighter on the fleeing soldiers. Deadly pellets sang through the trees and more corsairs fell. Varosk quickened his pace, showing elite stamina for an older man. The rhythmic crunch of the tower mech’s advance was joined by another set of heavy feet.
Michael was tempted to look over his shoulder but there was every chance it was simply another enemy mech joining the fray. A pounding explosion knocked them all to the dirt. His ears ringing, Michael turned and saw a headless, smoking mech falling towards them with a dire groan.
“Roll!” he screamed as the mech loomed large. Using his last reserve of adrenalin, Michael threw himself through the bracken, hoping like hell he’d covered enough ground to clear the falling mech. The huge machine crashed into the jungle and lifted Michael into the air. He was thrown painfully against the gnarled trunk of a shoba tree and deposited at its base.
It took Michael several moments to ascertain whether he’d broken any bones. Miraculously, he seemed to be intact. Once he’d collected himself he staggered through a veil of dust and smoke to find his companions. Some soldiers lay prone on the ground, whimpering softly. Others were strewn across the undergrowth in bloody pieces.
Michael found Varosk near the head of the fallen mech. The Captain was rounding able-bodied soldiers into defensive positions. Plasma fire flared as Aegisi sharpshooters picked off Cavan engineers seeking to escape the smoking wreckage. Despite the heavy casualties, Aegisi ranks had been bolstered by more survivors. A warship must have fallen out to sea off the island’s western coast. Varosk ran a quick head count.
“Forty-two corsairs,” he said. “We’ve lost too many good soldiers, but still something to work with.”
The architect of the mech’s demise came trundling into view - another mech. It was draped in tendrils of seaweed and seemed a little lopsided.
“What the fuck…?” Michael muttered.
“How in seven hells did you get that thing up again?” Varosk replied into his wrist pad.
Even as the Nostroma spoke the mech lilted dangerously to the right.
“Damn it, Le Sondre, you have higher priorities,” Varosk spat. “Fire that payload before it’s too late.”
“Flagship Tranquility, this is Captain Varosk,” said the veteran. “We’re in position and ready to fire.”
The lopsided mech inched a painfully slow semi-circle so that it was facing the incoming flagship.
“Very good, Admiral,” Varosk said in a tight, nerve-ridden voice. “Standby.”
At that moment the Cavan flagship, looming large behind its Aegisi counterpart, managed to break through the Tranquility’s rear shields. A massive explosion sent black plumes of smoke high above the silver ship and for a moment it looked like it was dead in the air. Then Admiral Zhavar’s voice crackled over the com.
“With pleasure, Admiral,” Varosk said. “Le Sondre - fire.”
Michael and the other soldiers gave the standing mech a wide berth as the thing’s head lifted from its shoulders. Propelled by fizzing jets on its underside, the head, along with all the warheads stacked inside, scorched its way east toward the Tranquility.
Michael could only imagine what Jake could see from his position inside the the mech’s torso. One thing was for sure - those mech heads could really fly.
The Tranquility was rocked by an aft explosion that almost sent it spinning out of control. It threatened to drift off course, exposing the bomb before it could get close enough to Node One. The Cava05 would shoot it from the sky if they spotted it too early.
Michael shared a glance with Varosk, who looked just as uncertain as he felt. This was uncharted terrain for everyone.
Someone yelled a warning from behind the patched-together battalion. A forward scout had returned from the rocky western beach.
“Cavan forces off the western shore,” reported the scout. “Three more mechs unloading hundreds of ground troops.”
Hundreds of Cavan personnel tumbled from the gaping hull wound. Secondary explosions rocked the flagship from within, rupturing the propulsion casing.
Michael watched with profound satisfaction as the Cavan flagship was torn apart from the inside. His delirious plan couldn’t have been more successful. He hoped that Yashom15 was on board the doomed vessel. He felt elated at the prospect of crossing another name off his kill list. And yet there wasn’t any time to enjoy the enemy vessel’s demise.
“Inbound,” Varosk said in a commanding tone.
Michael rushed down to the western beach where tranquil pools of salt water were laced across a flat intertidal rock platform. Further out to sea, beyond the wave zone, stood three tower mechs spaced two hundred yards apart. The distance was a little too far for flak pellets so they were firing long plasma bolts from cannons under their left wrists.
The bolts were enough to flatten entire tracts of jungle and set them on fire. Already there were screams of alarm as the fire consumed the thick forest canopy. What the Cava05 didn’t know was that Aegisi armor, even the light variety worn by a standard corsair, was incredibly hard to burn. Aegisi skin itself, adapted to wet conditions, was heat resistant.
Michael doubted there’d be many
casualties from that particular tactic but if the intention was to disrupt the Aegisi defenders then it was an unqualified success. Varosk moved quickly to assemble a ragged line of corsairs along the western beach. The forager was heartened to see several soldiers from the original battalion, their customized breastplates twinkling proudly in the sun.
“Drones!” someone observed. Michael squinted against the sun, which was lowering itself into his eyeline. There were several cavernous troop carriers bobbing in the swell just beyond the mechs. Michael made his way over to Varosk, who was pacing up and down the beach agitatedly.
“Must be over a thousand Cavan drones,” he said. “If we let them engage us here we’ll be overrun.”
“We need to face them in the water,” Michael agreed. As he spoke, more and more Aegisi paratroopers joined the defensive line on the western beach. There must have been hundreds of blue-clad corsairs. The vast majority were armed with marine weaponry - self-loading harpoons for mid-range underwater combat and segmented tridents for melee defense.
These soldiers were the ultimate amphibious troopers. But it was clear they would be hopelessly outnumbered on Samalar Island.
“Who’s in command here?” a tall, chiseled man barked as he strode along the beach.
“Captain Varosk,” said the Captain, saluting the new arrival.
“General Faraday,” came the reply. “By my estimates we have three hundred corsairs on the beach with another one hundred and fifty en route over the island.”
“I have around forty soldiers, General,” Varosk said. “The Cavan drones outnumber us three to one. Do we have recourse to the eastern beach?”
A huge crash reverberated across the jungle. The headless mech, which had been standing in the trees all this time, had finally toppled over. Michael’s first thought was for Jake, but he needn’t have worried. The lanky Nostroma appeared through the smoking trees with a wacky grin.
“Eastern beach is a bust,” he said. “Cava05 have pushed up with mechs and infantry. We’re boxed in.”
24
Varosk swore.
“General,” he said. “We need to advance into the water.”
“And be cut down by those mechs?” Faraday asked sharply. “That’s suicide, Captain.”
The groaning Tranquility was now directly over their heads. The flagship looked barely functional, but it was still in the air.
“Admiral Zhavar, can you provide air support?”
“We need to bunker down,” Michael found himself saying. “The flagship can ram those mechs.”
Both officers looked at Michael as if he’d lost his nerve.
“Use the flagship as a battering ram?” Varosk said incredulously. “Do you realize how many losses that would incur?”
Faraday didn’t seem to share Varosk’s concerns.
“Admiral Zhavar,” he said. “We need you to set a course for the enemy mechs and evacuate the Tranquility immediately.”
The pause on the other end of the line lasted several seconds.
“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” said Varosk, following Faraday’s lead. “I’m led to believe she’s as amphibious as the rest of us.”
Michael blinked. Councilors, there on the Tranquility? He wondered if that included Follah, the one who had allowed Emilia to be thrown to the wolves. He was overcome with a desire to catch up with these ‘Councilors’ once the battle was over. He still had plenty to say. And do.
Hundreds of Aegisi corsairs bunkered down on the beach as their huge flagship cruised overhead. Several escape pods were released from bays in the underhull. The pods were designed to penetrate bodies of water and bury themselves in sandy sediment.
The pods soared over the enemy mechs and troop transports, many of them breaking through the line. Some were tracked by enemy missiles and exploded spectacularly. Michael hoped Councilor Follah hadn’t been shot down. That would’ve been too easy.
The huddled corsairs watched awestruck as the Tranquility cruised inexorably toward its targets. The mechs threw everything they had at the flagship to no avail. Now that Node One was no longer a threat from behind, it looked as though all remaining power had been shored up to the fore shield.
Cavan missiles eventually broke it down but it was too late. The Tranquility was sliding laterally once it got close to the tower mechs. Within seconds the Tranquility had presented its port side and was on course to take at least two of them down.
With an ear-splitting wrench the flagship decapitated the northward mech and took the middle one flush in the chest. Both were toppled into the deep blue, sinking under the choppy surface. The third, southward mech turned to engage the Tranquility as it headed further west.
“Go!” Varosk screamed above the din. “Advance!”
The corsairs were too well trained to be ordered twice. With two mechs down and the third with its back turned, now was the perfect time to enter the water and engage the approaching troops in the water.
Michael leaped off the rock platform and dived underneath a curling wave. The salt water invigorated his senses and he felt great as he split the aquamarine profile. Highly trained corsairs swam left and right, harpoons at the ready. Michael drew his tank-fed assault rifle and scanned the water for enemy activity. It was probably just as well that none of the corsairs had aquasors. Swimming freely they were better able to maintain a tight formation.
At first it was difficult to pick up movement. The water on Cerulean wasn’t as clear as it was on Solitude. Several shapes resolved themselves near the surface. The Cava05 had deployed marine skiffs. These were lightly armored submersible craft with a front-mounted laser and a wraparound rail for drones to hold onto.
Each skiff lugged five enemy infantry through the water. They must have spotted the approaching Aegisi corsairs because they all dived in unison. Michael counted up to seven skiffs before he was forced to evade the first laser blast. He swiveled gracefully out of the path of a second blast, but couldn’t escape a third. It struck him flush in the breastplate and he expected it to crack in two.
Instead the customized armor absorbed the blow and dispersed it through the frame. Elated with its performance, Michael surged through the water. The corsairs to either side of Michael seemed to gain inspiration from his survival, pressing home their own attacks.
The forager pulled up suddenly, inviting the leading skiff to attack one last time. The driver had an itchy trigger finger. Michael ducked under the plasma bolt and propelled himself forward before the laser could fire again. He hauled himself right over the top of the skiff and opened fire with his assault rifle.
Three of the short, furry soldiers crumpled under the plasma fire. The strictly terrestrial Cava05 had outfitted these drones with compact respirators that provided only a limited portion of viable oxygen. Michael was relieved to see they’d been allocated standard blasters.
Such weapons were actually quite serviceable underwater but were no match for the specialized Aegisi harpoons and close quarter tridents. The Cava05 had clearly been deployed to squeeze the Aegisi survivors on Samalar Island. That the Aegisi had been able to break their lines and bring the battle to the water was a decisive move. One that they could all put down to the bravery of Admiral Zhavar and her willingness to sacrifice the Tranquility.
Two Cavan troopers remained on the leading skiff. More followed behind but couldn’t fire their lasers for fear of hitting their own soldiers. Michael grabbed one of the drones by the neck and ripped his respirator free. The enemy’s simian eyes widened in shock.
Michael took the opportunity to bash the drone’s head in with the butt of his assault rifle. He was clubbed in turn by the remaining drone on the skiff rail but
the blow glanced off his pauldron.
Even so, Michael was knocked back just far enough for the drone to bring his blaster rifle to bear. There was a whir of movement and no blast came. The drone began drifting to the sea floor, a harpoon bolt neatly skewering his neck. Cavan blood was much the same as Aegisi. Syrupy rich and dark scarlet.
Jake emerged from the chaotic battle carrying an Aegisi harpoon. He saluted Michael theatrically before disappearing into the fray. It appeared the forager had a guardian angel on his shoulder.
A melee battle now raged all around Michael. The skiffs had entered corsair ranks and were rapidly closed down by the fast-swimming Aegisi. This was by far the best tactic as the lasers were now largely ineffective. In fact, Cavan drones were peeling off the mechanized sea units so they could engage the corsairs with both hands free.
Some of the drones were decent fighters but water was not their strongest element. The corsairs ruthlessly worked their way through simian drone ranks. The elite Aegisi soldiers were dead-eyes with both harpoons and tridents. The latter were rather long at two yards but could be flicked into a folded segment no longer than a man’s forearm. That way they could be stored in a special sheath at the corsair’s thigh.
Wielding an Aegisi trident was a deceptive art. Usually an enemy was drawn into a melee attack thinking the corsair was unarmed. Once the assailant was committed to pushing forward, the trident was whipped out and deployed to devastating effect. It could splinter most light to medium armor types if used skilfully, but it was the purely defensive outcome of keeping the enemy at bay that made the trident indispensable.
These drones may have been masters of one martial art or another, but they simply couldn’t get close enough to the corsairs to work their skills.
Michael commandeered the skiff he’d liberated and turned it on the enemy front line. He located the laser toggle easily enough - it rested at the end of a central console behind the unit. He fired at will into the throng of skiffs now aggressively surging in his direction.
The Blue Corsair (Five Empires Book 1) Page 16