Keltan's Gambit: Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 2

by Michael Formichelli

  His jinzōbushi and reserve troops arrived. Some took shots at the mechanical demon-girl while more drew their long blades and advanced on it. Ichiro watched just long enough to realize his troops were no match for the deadly artificial, then headed in a wide circle back towards the forest’s edge, trying to stay out of the path of the remaining jinzōbushi as they traded bullets with the remaining Greeba. He reached the tree line, panting from what felt like broken ribs beneath his armor, and looked back towards the melee.

  His stomach tightened as he saw human soldiers coming up to reinforce the jinzōbushi. They advanced firing on Zalor’s striped pet, tearing bits of white synthetic skin and muscle from its body but failing to stop it as the wounds closed almost as fast as they were made. Screams rang out beneath the forest canopy as the killing machine laid into human and robot alike. The armored forms of his remaining men rose and fell as they panted out their fear, some taking cover among the trees while others dropped their guns as the ammunition ran dry, and put hands on their swords to wait for their chance to die for him. A jinzōbushi took a swing at Qismat with its Ākuha sword, which it ducked under to allow the decapitation of its fellow robot. Ichiro’s gut clenched with the loss of every soldier. Zalor was turning his victory into defeat from hundreds of light-years away before his eyes.

  No! I won’t give up! he thought, and then, Setha! Gritting his teeth against the pain he charged into the forest to find his love.

  The two-story house in front of them exploded, sending flaming bricks and Matre-knew-what else in every direction with a ground-trembling blast. If Nero thought the attack wouldn’t be enough of a distraction to cover them, he now stood corrected. Not only were Armstrong’s troops drawing every Brogh in the area, but the residents of the town that were cooped up in their houses now took the opportunity to vent their frustrations on their conquerors by flooding the streets in a wave of angry shouts and gunfire.

  “Move!” he shouted, pushing his way through a group of mercs in iridescent green armor as they charged a line of Broghite soldiers down a side-street. It took twenty minutes to reach the center of town through the sudden chaos, and if they didn’t reach the tower soon he feared leaving the baron and Setha to themselves in the spaceport attack.

  His group wove in and out of the alleyways between the widely spaced houses in order to avoid the avenues where some of the larger firefights were taking place. The bullet-hammered air was thick with the smell of burning plastic, stone, and flesh cooked by Broghite plasma weaponry. In some places the stench was so thick he nearly gagged. The last time he saw combat like this he was in his combat shell and blissfully isolated from the odors of the battlefield.

  They came around the corner of a one-story house with a wire-mesh fence sitting alone at the end of its block. Ahead of them a group of Broghite troops were firing blue bolts into a mob of mercenaries in red and green. Several of them were down on the ground already, their armor cracked open, charred, bleeding flesh on display. Beyond the Broghites was an open stretch of ground leading to the base of the communications tower.

  Nero ducked back around the corner of the house, pressing his shoulder into its rough surface and gestured. Armstrong’s armor made a grating sound as she slid up the stucco-like surface. He leaned in close, glancing back at Khepria and Mamiya.

  Target’s on the other side, he transmitted. Shall we give those mercs a hand?

  “Don’ have t’ask me twice.” Armstrong shoved him out of the way as she moved forward, dropped to a kneeling position, and raised her rifle to her shoulder.

  “Wait, don’t you think we should go around—” Mamiya started, but he was interrupted by the rapport of Armstrong’s weapon.

  Nero raised his rifle and pulled the trigger in controlled bursts. The air crackled with the din of supersonic bullets as they cut into the Broghite troops, breaking through armor to tear flesh and shatter bone. Bodies twitched and fell, adding to the confusion and throwing off the response of their still-living comrades. Moments later the Broghites seemed to realize they were flanked and retreated around the houses. The mercs Armstrong rescued gave hasty salutes and headed on down the street, no doubt in search of further revenge.

  “It would have been better to use the opportunity to sneak around,” Mamiya said once the sound of gunfire retreated into the distance.

  “Maybe, but not nearly as satisfyin’.” Armstrong balanced the butt of her rifle on her hip and reloaded.

  When she finished, she headed around the building, leaving Nero and the rest to follow her across the avenue and through more alleys. They came to a double-wide street between the houses and the tower. Ahead of them through the dusty air they could see the barricade was now reinforced with household debris and manned with twice the number of Broghite guards as before. Overhead three “U” shaped Fang-class aerospace fighters streaked through the sky. He watched them turn over the town, angle down, and send blue-white bolts into the streets. Plumes of fire and smoke rose from the ground in their wake.

  “They’re strafing people?” Nero frowned.

  “This sort o’ slaughter is par for their course, Abyssian. The Brogh murder even the unarmed in the blink of an eye,” Armstrong said with an edge in her voice.

  He shook his head. He’d seen this kind of thing on Savorcha with the Orgnan. Have I really? he wondered, but kept it to himself.

  It was fifteen steps to reach the barricade. Up and down its length were machinegun emplacements and soldiers ready to tear into anyone attempting to cross the street with their rifles. They had the determined look of soldiers who knew this post was important, probably the planet’s only such tower, and therefore vital to maintain for any occupying force. If something did go wrong, he sensed they would hold it to the last man.

  Nero gripped his rifle tighter. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Perhaps I can assist,” Mamiya said moving to the mouth of the alley and tilted his red, bug-like eyes upward. Nero gave him a look, but waited to see what Mitsugawa’s man would do.

  The group of Fang-class aerospace fighters strafing the streets came back into view, circling for their next run. They turned around the communications tower and lined themselves up down the main road running through the town. Mamiya focused his gaze on them for several seconds.

  “If y’all are gonna do somethin’, you best get t’doin’ it. We’re startin’ t’draw attention,” Armstrong said with a nod towards the barricade. Several of the guards had their armored heads pointed in the direction of the alleyway.

  “Just one more moment,” Mamiya said.

  As if on cue, one of the Fang fighters in the rear of the formation faltered. It dipped its wings to either side for a moment before performing a clumsy flip that sent it plummeting upside down towards the ground. Nero watched open mouthed as the craft twisted in the air, completely out of control, and smashed into the barricade. A plume of fire and smoke erupted upwards for a moment before its ordinance exploded with a force and heat that slammed into Nero’s body hard enough that he felt it in his chest. Ahead of them, out in the open, the impact was far worse.

  The guards closest to the impact were torn apart, while those in front of the group were on their backs, unmoving. Some of the bodies burned along with the parts of the barricade that hadn’t been reduced to ash in the explosion.

  “What the hell was that?” Nero asked.

  “I hacked into the fighter’s computer and disrupted the craft’s gyroscope in a way that resulted in a favorable outcome for us. I also armed its ordinance before impact,” Mamiya responded. “I now suggest we take advantage of the situation while the way to the tower remains open.” He gestured towards the flaming barricade with his head.

  Nero nodded and licked his lips. “Let’s get moving.”

  Ichiro found Setha behind a dip in the terrain laying on her side with the black-and-blue dome of a welt spanning her temple. He got on his knees beside her, holding Hoshinagi behind him with the blade upright against his back.
His free hand felt along her neck finding nothing broken, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  She stirred. Her green eyes opened and flared bright. He felt himself filled with the irresistible urge to move back; he did.

  “Tengu.” Her hair pulsed beneath her, flowing in such a way to push her to her feet in one smooth motion. She shook the leaf-litter and dirt from its black strands without laying a hand on it.

  It was the first time he saw her do that, and it took a moment for him to find his power of speech. “He took a hit from Qismat. I don’t know if he’s alive.”

  “He is. I can feel him.” There was relief in her voice. “I am glad you’re alive as well.”

  “It’s tearing my jinzōbushi apart. My men are dead. I had no idea Zalor had designed it so well.” He shook his head.

  “We cannot retreat.” The welt turned yellow, shrank, and vanished. Her alien nanomachines healed her faster than he’d ever seen nanomeds work before.

  “I would not suggest it, but we need a plan.” Ichiro gritted his teeth.

  “This is the plan: We kill that thing once and for all.” A snarl appeared on her face, and her eyes flared like green stars. “I can feel the neutrinos its micro-reactor puts out. Are you wounded?”

  “Slightly.” He held his side. “But not as badly as I thought.”

  “Thank the C-nanomachines I gave you.” She touched the armor over his chest just above his sternum where he felt the heat when she wanted to communicate with him over long distances. A moment later the pain in his side vanished.

  “Is that what this is?” he asked.

  “Yes. How else did you think we could share dreams? Magic?”

  He felt himself blush beneath his helmet.

  The seismic sensors went off in his suit. “Something’s coming.”

  “I feel it.” She ducked behind a tree.

  He brought Hoshinagi to bear.

  From over the hill Tengu let out a bark and came bounding down the slope to Setha’s side. He was relieved to see the cerberai and bent down to touch him on the head, but Tengu shied away, turning to growl at the hill. His sensors went off a second time and he looked up, just catching a black-and-white blur before it slammed into him. He only barely managed to keep hold of Hoshinagi as Qismat bowled him over onto the ground. He saw its fang-teeth flash, and the gleam of delight in its purple eyes as it squeezed its arms around his, immobilizing them against his body. Its smile descended towards the joint where his helmet met his neck—and in a blue-green flash he felt something tug on its body. The second burst of light sent Qismat flying off of him.

  Setha walked forward, hands raised before her. An aura of azure-blue radiation pulsed around her whole body. Her long, cape-like hair writhed behind her like a flag in a strong wind. Ichiro scrambled to his feet as she sent bolt after bolt of the strange energy at Zalor’s killing machine. Qismat stumbled back under the barrage, trying to recover its equilibrium but taking no apparent damage from the attack.

  Ichiro charged forward, holding Hoshinagi tight against his hip. He locked in on his target, heart pounding, counting off the meters in his head until he was close enough to swing and end it’s miserable existence. Five, four, three—

  Qismat twisted out of the path of Setha’s bolts, lunged forward and grabbed his wrist as he swung his ancestral Ākuha blade in a rising arc meant to cut it from groin to crown. It slammed him in the chest with its shoulder, knocking him sideways right into the path of Setha’s blast. The energy struck his armor with a thunderous crack, and he felt his whole body go numb on his left side. His hand went slack and slipped off of Hoshinagi’s handle, but his right still had a firm grasp. He saw the ground blur, trying to twist his body as Qismat spun him in the air by his wrist. Its foot came up and slammed into his side bringing an explosion of pain that sent sparks through his vision. Bile rose behind his teeth. It wasn’t until the agony started to fade that he felt Qismat pulling hard on his arm. There was as straining, the shriek of ceramic-alloy under extreme stress, and a popping sensation he felt in his skull.

  He was flying through the air a moment later and fell to the ground on his back, staring at Qismat. It had something in its hands, long, and black, and ending in a curved sword with a white hilt. He heard Setha scream in the distance. Qismat opened its fang-filled mouth and laughed as it tossed the black thing off into the woods. The ringing in his ears was deafening, and his entire body was numb. His suit reported a major breech at the right shoulder joint with flashing red characters along the side of his vision. He ignored them, seeing his love move with forceful steps from among the trees, body ablaze in ultramarine light.

  No! He thought. Qismat tucked its body and lunged forward. Its fingers grew claws and struck Setha in the stomach. The light around her wavered, allowing him to spot the angry, blistering skin beneath it. Even from as far away as he was, he could see Qismat’s digits sink into Setha’s narrow abdomen. He wanted to scream but his jaw would not move, and all that came out was a wheezing gasp. His heart doubled its hammering pace when Qismat leaned forward and sank her fangs into Setha’s neck.

  I have failed my father, and now, I watch my heart die. My short life ends in regret. The words ran through his head as he watched Setha lean in, slumping against the girl-like machine. The embrace seemed to go on for eternity while he waited for the body of his love to fall, dreading the moment with every breath.

  Setha grimaced, and her hair rose up like the tentacles of some mythical sea creature. Over one-hundred thousand strands curved inward to face Zalor’s creature, then shot forward from each side like a pair of black, needle-toothed jaws. The tip of each hair struck Qismat’s striped skin and plunged on past, flowing deep into the machine’s body. It was difficult to see into the pulsing mass, but he thought he could make out the machine’s form struggling within it. A moment later Setha’s hair reversed itself and flowed out of the thing as she stepped back away. Released from the penetrating grip, Qismat stumbled back as if struck and held its hands up before its face. He wasn’t quite sure what was just happened until green light burst from its mouth. The light spread to devour its face and arms. The striped artificial slumped to its knees, torso slanted backward over its heels and the light spread along its veins, disintegrating the flesh around it. Within moments the pulsing energy devoured Zalor’s pet android in a flare that left nothing but ash in the air and a retinal burn in his vision.

  Setha looked at him and the color drained from her pale and blistered face. She ran over shouting something he thought might be his name, but the ringing in his ears was so loud, and he was too numb and cold to hear her. When she arrived at his side his eyelids were fighting to slide shut. It took a monumental effort to hold them open. She dropped to her knees beside him, shouting and yet silent in his ears. Tears streamed down her soft, burned cheeks to where her cracked lips hung open. Her skin was seared red, but she appeared unfazed by the pain she must be suffering. He watched her reach down, staring with panicked eyes, and followed her arm to where his should have been. Then he understood. Qismat had torn his arm out of its socket. His blood poured out of the ragged hole it had left onto the thick patch of red moss which had sprung up beneath him like a shag carpet.

  “Get the generator. The Praetor needs you,” he said, and then his head slumped back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and closed his eyes.

  The lift doors slid open allowing the crisp air, thick with the stench of burning buildings, to enter. A stiff wind blew across the roof of the tower, chilling Nero’s toes as he moved out onto its grated metal surface. Behind them the needle of the massive radio antenna shone in the light of the morning sun. At each of the roof’s four corners a large dish rested in a hydraulic turret trailing an arm-thick cable. He traced them from those devices and the antenna above to a shed at the edge of the building.

  “That is the junction where we can hijack control of the tower,” Khepria said as they exited the lift car.

  Nero started for it. “How long will you nee
d?”

  “It is going to depend on how long it takes us to break whatever security they put in place,” she answered, keeping pace with him.

  “At least they couldn’t have changed the system over to a Broghite programming language in such a short period of time,” Mamiya stated from behind them. “We’d be here for days if they had.”

  “We don’t have days.” Nero glanced back at Armstrong and pointed a finger at the roof’s edge. She nodded and headed over in that direction.

  The lift car groaned, startling him, and dropped into the floor. A grate sliding over the hole it left behind with the clang of metal on metal.

  Nero frowned. “Guess we have company coming.”

  Khepria and Mamiya moved forward to the shed. The latter grabbed the door handle and gave a yank. When it resisted, he jerked it hard and tore it right off the hinges. Nero watched the door go skittering across the roof. He would have to reassess his opinion on CEL abilities. If they were at or near Abyssian physical equivalents he would need Prospero online before he even attempted to arrest one.

  With the door removed they could easily see rows of metal boxes bristling with cables within the compartment like the hair of some crazed scientist. Khepria looked it over then reached into her pocket and produced a cube-shaped device. Pointing it at the free outlets, she scanned along them with her eyes searching for something.

  “This one,” Mamiya said, yanking out a cable.

  “Thank you.” She plugged the device into the vacated socket. “We are going to need some time.”

  “As much as we can muster,” Nero nodded and turned around holding the rifle across his chest. Off in the distance another explosion sounded. I hope that’s the aegis generator, he thought, not entirely certain that the spaceport lay in that direction.