ROYAL LINE (War In The Void Book 3)

by Anthony Thackston

  “Was this what it was to battle the Queen?” Haddron asked.

  A clanging echoed behind them. Both looked to see Naura’s bloody knife bounce on the floor.

  “Not even close,” Irons replied. “This is a whole other thing.”

  Twenty-Nine

  The Final Shot

  “We need to fall back!” Lou yelled.

  “To where?” Durham asked, looking at the navigation reading on his console. “These things are at every point on the compass.”

  “There ain’t no falling back!” Syracuse commanded. “We stay till the job’s done. If that means the worst, we take as many of them with us as we can.”

  “We’re swarmed, sir,” Lindsay said. “I can’t keep up.”

  The Slagschip was rocked by the barrage of Catter fire. They had put themselves right in the middle of the action, taking out nearly as many enemy ships as they took on bullet strikes.

  * * *

  The surface of the merged ships was in a constant flux state as it tried to repair the damage caused by taking on so much gunfire. The hull rippled like waves being swept by the wind only to crash on the rocks as more ordinance dented and damaged it. It was a resilient machine but even it was being taxed by the overwhelming enemy force.

  * * *

  “How much more of this can she take?” Syracuse asked, spinning the wheel to evade more attack.

  “It has never seen a battle such as this,” Sitasha said.

  “How many fights has thing thing been in?” Syracuse asked.

  “It was used once in the war. After that the Grand Council decided it was too dangerous.”

  “That planetoid is too dangerous,” Durham said. “This many Catter ships are too dangerous.” A small part of his old self was coming back.

  “As long as the Lucky Liberty isn’t hit, we should be ok, right?” Hannah asked.

  “In theory, but—”

  “What choice do we have?” Syracuse’s question was rhetorical. “But we’ve gotta make room. Get this swarm off us.”

  “What about the Zonne-uitbarsting?” Lindsay said the Nordic word with little effort.

  “We can’t stop in the middle of this,” Lou answered.

  “What happens if we fire that off while moving?” Syracuse asked.

  Sitasha stood, silently, shaking her head. She didn’t have an answer. For all of her knowledge of the Slagschip, she had no clue as to its actual limitations. But the crew of the Lucky Liberty were used to taking risks and pulling maneuvers that most crews would never even think of. It was that kind of unorthodox thinking that got them the notoriety they’d earned during the war.

  “We’re taking a shot,” Syracuse said. “Brooks, fire when ready.”

  “Aye, Commander.” Lindsay searched amongst the weapons systems in her visor. The various options appeared as symbols that lit up as her hand crossed over each one on her console. “Firing Zonne-uitbarsting!” She hit the lit icon.

  The entire bridge hummed and vibrated as every gun readied to fire.

  * * *

  The exterior guns of the ship spun wildly before each one blasted out rapid fire shots in every direction. The Slagschip turned away from a dense wall of enemy ships, slinging bullet fire in that direction. The Catter LAVs were destroyed almost instantly while the tanks took on more damage. Explosions erupted from the larger battle cruisers, creating even more damage while the Slagschip made a wide one-eighty, still firing in every conceivable direction.

  The Catter ships below them were forced to fall back, saving the most vulnerable side of the integrated vessels.

  The combined use of the Zonne-uitbarsting and combat maneuvers helped to take out more enemy ships than the Slagschip Lucky Liberty could have by remaining in one place.

  * * *

  Lindsay continued firing until a red warning alert flashed in her visor. “I’m overheating, Commander!”

  Syracuse watched the display. They’d taken out so many with that tactic. The enemy ships closest to them were the most damaged. The smoking hulls helped to provide some form of cover. It was possible they even helped by throwing off the targeting systems of the others. It was a small comfort.

  “Cease fire, Private!” Syracuse ordered.

  For all of the damage they’d wrought, there were still three times as many enemy ships as those they’d taken out.

  “It was not enough,” Sitasha said.

  Syracuse steered away from another dense swarm of tanks moving toward them. “It rarely is.”

  * * *

  Irons gritted his teeth. “What’s he doing?”

  “What the Ka’traxis Brood always do,” Haddron told him through stuttered breaths. The pain in his ribs was getting to him. “Playing with us.”

  “Gonna make you a floor rug when this is over!” Irons yelled.

  The insult had the desired effect as King Tar’libon dropped from the dark right behind Irons. The big Catter’s massive fist plowed into the vest of Irons’s armor, sending the Captain tumbling backwards across the floor.

  Irons activated the boots before coming to a stop and rocketed back toward the King who was already fighting with Haddron.

  The Nordic side stepped a punch and brought his own arm down on the King’s, hopeful his speed would be enough to break the arm. It did little more than bruise it. The King barely noticed and he thrust his leg out, knocking Haddron back just as Irons arrived back in the fray.

  The armor took the hit as Irons blocked a strong hook. The boots carried him just high enough to meet the King eye to eye where Irons used a hook of his own, plowing his armored fist right into Tar’libon’s face. The hit stunned the King but not enough. The big Catter caught the next fist barreling toward his head.

  Irons growled as he tried to pull his arm from the King’s grasp. Even with the added strength of the Gevecht Bepantsering, Tar’libon was still stronger. Irons grabbed his arm and pulled but the King jerked him to one side then threw the Captain halfway across the throne room.

  There wasn’t enough time to activate the boots and Irons slammed into one of the stone pillars. He kept his head forward as best he could, avoiding the impact with the unforgiving stone. The armor screeched as the Captain slid to the floor. He rose to one knee, instantly, and looked at Haddron whose breathing was even more labored.

  “This one on one ain’t working.”

  “Agreed.” Haddron stood.

  “The number of you makes little difference,” the King said with no hint of worry or concern in his voice. “The end result will be the same.”

  Irons dropped his hand to his hip and held it over his teleport device. In a flash he was gone. Haddron followed suit. The tactic was unexpected, finally putting the King on defense.

  One burst of light was followed by a swift kick to the face, startling Tar’libon more than stunning him. Another flashed behind him from below and an armored leg slammed into the King’s armored shins. The armor prevented pain but still forced the Catter to stagger backward.

  Haddron took advantage of the stumble and pressed his attack. First was a quick blow to the King’s neck then another to his temple before the Nordic teleported away, giving Irons room to strike the Catter in the solar plexus. The boots launched him upward where he sent his fist rising into the King’s chin, further pushing him back.

  Both soldiers—human and Nordic, allies turned enemies, aligning themselves again for the fate of two worlds—flashed in and out, attacking the King as though they were their own army. Each strike kept Tar’libon from gauging his surroundings. Each hit kept him guessing but never able to counter. One to the head to keep his vision blurry. Another to the gut to keep him from breathing. Each time pushing him farther away.

  Finally, a large single flash burst in front of him and two fists came barreling toward his face.

  The King tumbled backwards and tripped over his own throne. He fell back on the slab, gasping for air. Irons and Haddron moved forward, ready to finish the job when the gasps of air t
urned into laughter, stopping both fighters in their tracks.

  “Bravo. Well done.” Tar’libon sat up. “I have not felt this alive in so long. Not since Kar’libon and I fought.” He stood to his feet, unfazed by the assault.

  Haddron and Irons did not have to look at one another to know what the other was thinking. This was a battle they weren’t going to win.

  “You have my gratitude for reminding me of old memories. And the same for ridding me of my brother’s stink.”

  A blind fury took over Haddron at the insult of his friend. Even with his injury he moved with a speed Irons had yet to see. Had he used that before, he might have won his fight against the Captain. But even it was not enough. The King grabbed him with a speed neither of them expected.

  Tar’libon lifted the Nordic off his feet by the neck. Haddron kicked at the Catter but each attack was blocked.

  “If this is your best, perhaps we should be done playing.”

  “I will see you and all of your kind extinguished from the void,” Haddron struggled to speak with the powerful hand wrapped entirely around his throat.

  “Too bad more of your people were not like you,” the King taunted. “They may have survived my takeover.”

  Haddron’s arm came up then crashed down on the King’s arm with blinding speed. This time Tar’libon felt the pain and he jabbed Haddron in his injured ribs, further breaking two of them and damaging the others. And for good measure he jabbed his other side before throwing the Nordic across the room.

  Haddron hit the floor and rolled in near breathless agony as he flopped to a stop.

  Irons rushed to his fallen ally.

  “Captain.” Haddron swallowed. “I am afraid I cannot go on.”

  “Don’t try. I’ll handle this.”

  “You’’ll handle this?” The King furrowed his brow, insulted at the notion that he was anything so casually spoken of. “You have tried to handle it and failed. All that is left is your death and the takeover of your worlds.”

  “You cannot. Not as you are,” Haddron said, reaching for the battle armor.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “One last trick, yes?” Haddron put his hand on the vest. “Forgive me, Captain.” He slid his finger across the yellow rectangle, fully illuminating it.

  Irons went rigid and his vision turned red. His teeth clenched together as Haddron’s hand fell to the floor. The Captain slowly stood and turned toward the King. The rage filled look in his eyes was enough to put some fear into the ruler of the Ka’traxis Brood.

  “What is this?” the King asked, with a twinge of doubt in his voice.

  The boots ignited and sent the roaring Iron Albatross straight for the King.

  Thirty

  Earth Fleet

  The bridge of the Slagschip Lucky Liberty was a cacophony of alarms and sirens. Durham yelled out damage reports while Hannah and Lou struggled to get the automated gun loading systems to work.

  “Guns three, seven and twelve through fifteen are out!” Lindsay yelled as she continued firing at a large swarm of LAVs.

  “Ready another burst!” Syracuse ordered.

  “Negative, sir!” Lindsay replied. “All guns must be online for that attack.”

  Several strikes hit the monster ship, knocking around all aboard.

  Syracuse throttled up and spun the wheel, barely escaping a head-on collision with a Catter tank. “There’s worse ways to go.”

  “Take as many as you can!” Durham yelled to Lindsay.

  “Gun seven, reloaded!” Lou said.

  Hannah’s side of the console flashed with bright blue lights. They were appearing all over the controls. “Commander, I’m getting wide spread ion spikes.”

  Syracuse cursed under his breath. “How many? Where?”

  “Too many to count, sir. Everywhere.”

  “What’s going on—”

  Two Catter tanks suddenly exploded in a hail of gunfire from an unseen vessel.

  “Get me a visual!” Syracuse demanded.

  Durham went to work bringing up another view from outside the ship. It was hard mistaking the battle cruiser on their starboard side. The gaping hole was sealed up by the energy field of an FAC. “It’s the Star Predator!” Durham shouted.

  The display on the bridge lit up, revealing Admiral Mona Collins. “Lucky Liberty, this is— Commander Hill? Where is Captains Irons?”

  “Still in planet, Ma’am. It’s good to see you.”

  “We’ll deal with the pleasantries, later, Commander.”

  “Aye.”

  “Until then, I’ve brought a few friends.”

  The crew on the Slagschip watched as more Earth Fleet battle ships flew into the fray, firing on the Catters, pushing some of them into escape patterns.

  Another screen popped up, this one smaller than Mona’s. None of them had been happier to see the cocky smile of Captain Roy Allen. “I see you saved some for me.”

  Lou Trevern smiled and saluted his Captain.

  “No need for that, Trevern. You’re on your ship, I’m on mine.”

  “Enough, gentlemen. We have a war to win,” Mona said.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Syracuse and Roy said as the same time.

  “I’m sending tactical orders to all Fleet Captains.” Mona looked down at her console. “All but you, Commander.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “The Lucky Liberty is free to act under its own command. The rest of you, stay out of their way. Remind these Catter sons-of-bitches what happened on Radial IV, Commander.”

  “Aye, Admiral!”

  The display reverted to the battle.

  Durham glanced at Lindsay whose mouth was turned into a wide smile as she hastened her movements to fire at the enemy ships.

  * * *

  Haddron lay on his side, air wheezing from his lungs as he watched Irons mercilessly and uncontrollably pummel the King. A right hook then a left, followed by a jab to the chest, blasting the air out of Tar’libon’s lungs harder than before. James Irons’s fist went straight to the King’s chin. Adding to the force of his blow were the boot jets as they launched the King upward, scraping his back along the stone pillar. The adrenaline-fueled human dropped his fist and drove it back into the King’s gut before the big cat could even catch his breath from the last blow to the torso.

  The King’s roars of pain and protest fell on deaf ears as Irons watched him fall back to the ground, a trail of broken stone from the pillar crumbling down after him. The entire room had a red tint to it. Tar’libon was especially red but the damage clearly taken by the King did not deter or even slow the Captain. The jets went off and he fell to the floor.

  “What…What is this?” the King asked as he pulled himself across the floor. “No human could,” he swallowed. “No human could do this.”

  “Human,” Irons dragged the word out in an inhuman fashion as he stalked after the King.

  “You dare to strike me!” Tar’libon roared.

  Irons yelled back, suddenly bursting back into action. As he neared the King, a flash of light halted him long enough for Tar’libon to reappear from behind him. A powerful arm wrapped around the Captain. Tar’libon activated his own Wormhole and shoved himself and Irons through it.

  “Irons,” Haddron said, weakly as the two disappeared.

  * * *

  The sound of machines turning and grinding filled the room while the King fell to the metal floor. He pushed Irons off him and quickly moved to higher ground while the Wormhole shrank away.

  A piston moved up and down into the housing below it. The tall building Irons and the King stood in had three walls made of the same metal as the terraformed half of the planetoid. There was no fourth wall. Just a large, open entryway. Tar’libon looked out through the opening, taking site of more artificial structures outside. Beyond that was Erra and the blinking jet thruster lights and gunfire of the battle surrounding it. He knew his fleet was under attack. He looked back down at Irons, realizing just who it was that
had brought the fight to them.

  The King snarled. “I was not yet ready to face the Earth Fleet again so soon.”

  Irons head whipped around. His teeth were permanently clenched. Even in his adrenaline fueled haze of rage, the Captain took a moment to take in his surroundings. They were redder than the rest of the world. Steam escaped from a glowing hole in the floor.

  “Take a good look, human. Soon my Terraformer will alter your planet, adding to my galaxy.”

  Irons’s eyes slowly lifted to lock with Tar’libon’s.

  The King’s bared his teeth. “I do not fear you.”

  Irons launched from the floor in a blatant attack but the King teleported away just in time, making Irons fly above the piston as it punched upward and into him. The Captain was sent higher into the air, almost to the ceiling. He recovered and spun around as the same flash of light appeared near the open hole in the floor.

  The King looked up and roared at him. Irons responded, flying down. This time Tar’libon did not move. He caught Irons and fell to his back, kicking the human off him. Irons hit the floor, his armor scraping against the metal ground, grinding him to a halt.

  Tar’libon was not ready to let up. It was Irons’s turn to be on the receiving end. The big Catter’s powerful legs carried him to the Captain almost as fast as the boot jets had Irons flying. The King tackled the human as he stood to his feet, putting him back on the ground. Tar’libon straddled him, pinning the Captains’s arms under Catter knees. There was no fear in James Irons’s eyes, a reaction that briefly unsettled Tar’libon.

  The King shook off the feeling. “You will bow to me!” His powerful fist knocked Irons’s head to one side.

  The Captain turned right back to his attacker.

  “You will know fear!” Another hit sent his head the opposite way.

  Irons’s reaction was the same. It wasn’t defiance in his eyes. It was pure rage. This human who had been a thorn in the side of the Empire for so long, who now faced the King himself, ruler of all Ka’traxis Brood, had no fear, no doubt, and no sense of self-preservation. In this state, James Irons had zero concern for the results of this battle. Only a desire to lash out and, if it came to it, kill the King. A feat even King Tar’libon S-Dahl knew to be a possibility if allowed.