Resolute Glory (The War for Terra Book 8)

by James Prosser

  As the first Ch’Tauk ship entered the zone, the largest of the Vadne vessels fired into the oncoming ship, tearing holes in the hull and spinning the ship off. The remainder of the Ch’Tauk ships surged forward, opening up with energy blasts against the Vadne shields.

  “Go!”

  The order came and Farthing heeled the ship over, turning into the oncoming Ch’Tauk. The pincers closed in around the Ch’Tauk ships, cutting off their escape as the fighters moved in. The larger capital ships stayed behind, firing slugs at the outer edges of the enemy lines and herding them into the middle. The fighters began to pepper the enemy ships, and Farthing watched as Caesar blasted targets to both sides, blinding the enemy sensors and herding them further into the kill zone. Kissinger began to rumble as Ch’Tauk energy weapons hit their marks.

  The combat was swift as the escort fighters rammed into the enemy lines. Kissinger weaved through the incoming fire, blasting at the insectoid ships with abandon. There was a hiss from the overhead speakers and a booming rumble which caused him to turn and look back. Ralep was sprawled on the deck, her golden skin pale, her hands over her ear-slits. She was emitting a high keening sound as she rocked back and forth.

  “Ensign?” Farthing called back to her. “Ralep, what is your status?”

  The woman held her head in pain. Farthing looked back at his console, then to the pilot next to him. Caesar was tapping his console, cycling the weapon power to blast as many enemy ships as possible. The tactical map showed the strategy had been successful. Ch’Tauk ships attempting to flee were being destroyed by the capital ships.

  Then he saw Ch’Tauk fleet outside the circle. While the Vadne had executed the pincer, hundreds of the enemy had circled the planet, coming in from the lunar side where they had been hidden. He wanted to warn the fleet but he couldn’t get away from his console, and Ralep was still rocking back and forth on the deck.

  “We need to get out of this,” Farthing said to Caesar. “We’ve got incoming and I have to warn the fleet.”

  “Break to starboard,” Caesar replied. “I think I see an opening.”

  Farthing rolled the ship hard. The view screen rotated sickeningly and his normally unflappable stomach threatened to turn. He righted the vessel just as a bright light erupted at the bow. A Vadne ship larger than a destroyer but smaller than a carrier class burst apart in an explosion of expanding gas. Kissinger pulled downwards towards the planet. A glance at the tactical map showed the culprit. Advancing from around the curve of the planet were two Ch’Tauk dreadnoughts, both ships firing at the home fleet, decimating the victory the natives had earned.

  “Ralep, I need you,” Farthing shouted over his shoulder as he watched another ship disintegrate. “You’ve got to get us in contact with the marshal.”

  There was no answer from behind and he didn’t have time to look. They were cut off from communication and without an escort now. The cloud of ships which had been tearing into the ambushed Ch’Tauk lines was scattering. The command vessel was still in formation, but two frigate analogs vanished in fiery balls of plasma. Pulling the nose of the courier ship back up, Farthing directed their plasma fire at the nearest of the advancing enemy fleet. The little vessel hadn’t the power for an assault, but if he could draw a few of the ships away from the main fleet, he could give the bigger vessels some room to move.

  “The marshal is calling the fleet closer to the planet,” called Ralep from the rear. “We’re to proceed to Omega Site.”

  “Are we getting an escort?” Farthing asked, taking a moment to look back at the woman. “This could get tricky.”

  “Sir?” called the golden-skinned woman. “I can barely hear you. Command says we are to go now or never. Fighter escorts are on their way but won’t be here for a few minutes. Can we wait that long?”

  “Negative,” Farthing shouted. “It’s good to have you back, but I haven’t got time for this. Setting course for Omega Site.”

  “Where’s Omega?” Caesar asked, tapping the fire key hard as the ship spun from an oncoming blast. “I thought we were staying here.”

  More blue dots blinked out on the tactical screen. The Vadne home forces were down nearly a third from just a few minutes ago, and appeared to be losing ground. The identifier for the Sirocco blinked out and Farthing’s heart grew heavy. It was not his ship to protect anymore but it still felt like a betrayal. The chaos around them was inconceivable as bolts hurtled from all sides. The rally had become a rout in only a few seconds, and time was running out.

  “Alternate mission,” the captain replied. “I need to get to the surface while we still can.”

  “The surface?” the pilot said, looking at his captain. “Sir, I think what we’re doing now is suicide. The Ch’Tauk are all over that planet. We’ll never make it through their defenses.”

  “That may be, but we are going down,” Farthing said. “I’m betting they won’t risk revealing the battle to the people on the—”

  The ship was thrown end over as a massive blast slammed into their shields, the energy from the Ch’Tauk weapon overloading her control circuits. Farthing struggled for control as fire erupted from above. Caesar held the console tight, not wanting to be thrown around the cramped bridge as the gravity wobbled. A long growl rumbled in Farthing’s throat as the screen blinked off. For a moment he cursed, but the loss of gravity control would be a help. He felt the ship tumble, and flying by instinct he calmed it as best he could as Ralep called from the comm station. She was routing power to sensors and the screen would return.

  As the ship settled into a less gut-churning course, Farthing tapped keys on the console. His display now refused to respond. The relay at his feet was pouring smoke into the cabin.

  “Well,” said Caesar, “you were right. We’re going down.”

  The sight of Vadne’s vast desert stared back at the captain through the holographic projection. He gnashed his teeth together in frustration as he began tapping keys again. Tumbling into the hot Vadne atmosphere, he could just see the fire of re-entry forming around the image on the screen.

  Farthing struggled to find the right words to express his frustration. As he tried again to get the controls to respond, his thoughts drifted back to his friend and former captain. Lee Pearce was not an eloquent man, but he always seemed to have the right words.

  “Well,” Farthing said, “this sucks.”

  27

  Vadne

  When the guards had come for him, Sterling had known it was the end. Ch’Tauk Elite soldiers flanked him on either side, marching him from his cell. Behind him, Drachma, the former leader of their people, stumbled to keep up. The Chancellor had announced their execution and wanted them to be seen walking to their death, but they had cut a tendon in the man’s leg and it had mended poorly.

  There were no felinoid faces in the government detention center and none on the street as they were loaded into a hovering skimmer. The armored Ch’Tauk soldiers rode with them in silence, the only noise the creaking of their armor and the occasional hiss of the hulking soldiers’ breather packs. No conversation had been exchanged and none was needed. Both men had known their fate when they had first stepped into the communications tower and both had accepted it. His last, desperate plea to the sky above had failed. His son would not be coming.

  The skimmer slowed to a stop and the doors opened. The rush of crowd noises stunned both men for a moment before the guards forced them to stand and exit the vehicle. Surrounding the truck on both sides were thousands of Vadne citizens. Most appeared to have been pulled from their bedding. A few even carried small children. Bright lights made the whole scene seem unreal. Sterling was pushed into a line with several other prisoners, all shackled and under heavy guard. Despite the crowd, it felt as if the whole thing had been rushed. There were no cheers or jeers thrown at the prisoners, only the hum of felinoid breathing and the whisper of a breeze from the east. Ringgit was in the line a few ahead of Sterling and appeared the worse for his treatment. They had been
separated before incarceration and seemed to have been beaten very badly in contrast to him. Drachma had resisted and tried to run, which had resulted in his hobbling, but otherwise he guessed the Chancellor wanted them to be shown as having been treated well. It was a show that would end in death and he was the star.

  They were shoved forward through the crowd by the Elites. The Chancellor was standing on a raised platform just outside a stone building. In the harsh light, he could just make out the columns of the Heroes Hall. Behind the Chancellor, a cavernous space occupied by only a single tomb waited. There they would be lined up and shot. He suspected the Chancellor would order it done one by one to prolong the spectacle. The man had a flair for the dramatic, as most politicians did.

  The performance would fall on deaf ears. He looked into the eyes of the Vadne around him. He saw their pain and their desire for release. It wouldn’t take much to push this crowd, but he couldn’t see a way to do it. Surrounded by enemy weapons, he was powerless to fight back or lead his people.

  “My fellow Vadne,” began the Chancellor. “I have called you here this morning to witness the result of sedition and treason. Assembled before you are the conspirators who would take down your rightful government and cut you off from the allies who we have worked so hard to build. These are the men who have disabled worldwide communication and destroyed the peace we all enjoy as citizens of Vadne. These are the men who have caused us to look beyond our borders and ask for assistance from the Elite soldiers of the Ch’Tauk Empire and the living presence Ch’Tauk.”

  There were quiet murmurs among the crowd, which sounded like a hushed roar. The Elite cleared another path to the side and the Camerlingo stepped up to the dais, followed by the Emperor. It galled Sterling to see Vadne soldiers following the small insectoid, but he was more shocked by the creature’s appearance. The black armor shell of the Ch’Tauk had turned a light gray and was near luminous in the moonlight. Projections had grown from the boy’s back, long spidery extensions of the carapace. His head was changed as well. The boy-emperor looked almost unlike any Ch’Tauk he had ever seen, somehow even more dangerous than the soldiers surrounding them. The Camerlingo’s staff slammed into the dais, breaking his fascination with the boy and gaining everyone’s attention.

  “People of Vadne,” began the robed Ch’Tauk. “Kneel before your Emperor. May the blessings of the universal maw ever shine upon his vaunted head, Ch’Tauk.”

  The murmurs grew to a true roar as the people, now fully roused and understanding of what was occurring, began to push against the guards. The Elites stood their ground and pressed the crowd back. To his right, Sterling saw one of the more aggressive citizens leap above the armored head of the guard and lung towards the dais. A swift move by the Elite unleashed a fusillade of cannon fire into his body. The crowd reacted with fear, backing away from the nightmare. When he looked to his left, he saw the former ruler, his friend Drachma, lowering his head to mourn the man’s passing.

  “You see the kind of rebellion this type of person causes?” called the Chancellor. “We are a peaceful people who wish to live out our lives in a calm and dignified manner. We have always enjoyed peace, but these rebels and murderers cause men to rise up and die. It is for this reason we have decided to execute the leaders of this revolution. Here in the Hall of Heroes where our honored dead were to have been buried, we shall set an example of those who wish to bring down the heroes. One by one they will fall to the reality of our rule. You are all to bear witness to these executions in the hopes that word of this rebellion and its inevitable outcome will spread. This event would be broadcast to all our people if it had not been for the actions of these fomenters of discord.”

  Another surge from a group caused the Elites to press back again. This time, rocks were thrown that impacted the armored soldiers’ headpieces. Another flash of cannon fire and the screams of the dying lifted into the night.

  Sterling wanted to lower his head, wanted to hide his eyes from the horror of watching his own people die, but couldn’t. He had no desire to have his people see him with his head down. He raised his eyes to the night sky and tried to see the stars beyond the bright lights set up on the stage. What he saw was startling. Through the wash of lights, he saw streaks of red and orange mixed with green and blue. There were pinprick explosions high above his head that flared bright and faded almost immediately. It took a moment before he realized what he was seeing, and then relief flooded over him. They were coming. The warmth of hope replaced the icy fingers of despair in his chest, before a new feeling swept over him.

  “People of Vadne…” The voice was young but strong. “I wish to calm your fears and make you understand the peace we are bringing to you.”

  The Emperor Ch’Tauk had stepped beyond the Camerlingo to the center of the dais. The amplification of his voice reverberated to all corners of the plaza. The light breeze blowing through the event carried his words further than Sterling would have believed. He felt a wave of calm replacing the hope in his heart. Thoughts of escape seemed to dissipate as he breathed in the air of the boy emperor. After so much anxiety, it was a wonderful feeling to simply allow the words of the Emperor to fill his soul with peace.

  “I am not here to force you to our will,” the Emperor continued. “I am here to serve you and keep the peace. I only want to extend our peace into your hearts and fill your lives with the knowledge that you are being protected.”

  A gentle breeze of passivity moved through the crowd. Even the Elites seemed to back down from their aggressive stance. A small group of Vadne began to gather the bodies of the dead and move them to the edges of the assembly. The scene had gone from a rising mob to a quiet and somber assembly in a matter of a few seconds while the Emperor spoke.

  “To show the depth of our good will, I will grant honor to those who would dishonor your people,” said the boy. “Release the bonds that hold these men and allow them their deaths as citizens and not prisoners.”

  In his stupor, Sterling felt the thick metal bands fall away from his wrists. He held his hands in front of him and looked at the raw areas at his wrists. The Emperor was merciful to grant him this honor. He stood straighter and looked at the young alien. He understood in his heart that his actions had been wrong and he deserved to die. The mercy granted him was a show of how powerful his lord Ch’Tauk really was.

  “Now, we will proceed with the executions in all good faith,” announced the Chancellor as the Emperor stepped back. “Bring the first to know the glory of the next life.”

  The Elites moved as one towards the first martyr, a short female with a thick coat who stood proudly on the end. She was marched to a waiting mark in front of the hall. The Elites took aim. With a short click, the guards opened fire, tearing the woman’s body to pieces. No sound from her as she died, only a fierce gaze and proud bearing as she was obliterated by the energy beams. The second Vadne was taken to the same space. This man raised his hands to the sky in supplication as the beams destroyed his body. Sterling thought briefly of a similar gesture to show his love for the Emperor, but decided a quiet reserve would show the people the proper way to die.

  Ringgit was torn taken from his place and marched to the same spot. The blood and fur of the former victim was still on the stone floor as he padded into place. The wind had shifted and Sterling could smell the blood and meat. His warrior instinct came alive as he breathed in the scent of death. Ringgit, too, must have felt the change, as his expression turned from beatific to horrified. He emitted a low growl as the nearest Elite stepped closer. The guard raised his cannon and a fierce growl roared to Ringgit’s throat and he lunged towards the guard. The cannon’s blast tore into the man with terrifying force, throwing the body backwards and across the stone floor. The beams, however, had not killed him, and he writhed on the ground, unable to do more than roar at his injuries and at the sky. The Elite he had lunged at moved closer. Taking aim, he fired. A cry of pain lanced through the night, cut short as the guard continued firing
until only a smoking ruin scorched the stone of the Hall of Heroes.

  The death triggered an unexpected series of shouts. Sterling shook his head as his senses returned. The Emperor was standing behind the Camerlingo, and for the first time Sterling thought he saw something like fear on the boy’s armored face. The crowd, once lulled to passivity while the executions were taking place, now surged forward again. The Elites raised their cannons, but this time, in a blood-filled panic, the mob continued.

  Blasts of energy tore through the crowd but the people would not stop. One of the Elites was forced back by the press of bodies. Sterling looked to Drachma in confusion. The former leader of their people appeared to be coming out of the same stupor he had been in. Both men looked back at the Camerlingo and the guards. The other prisoners too had begun to shake off the effects of the Emperor. Rage welled up within Sterling’s heart, his crest rising. More cannon fire pushed Sterling and the others into action.

  Drachma leapt forward at the nearest guard, the same armored warrior who had murdered his former aide. The former governor tore into the Elite’s armor, his long claws finding purchase under plates designed to withstand energy beams. Sterling, too, lunged forward, holding tight to the guard’s energy cannon, feeling the heat as the Ch’Tauk struggled to blast him to pieces. A third prisoner grabbed the other arm and held tight. As a fourth prisoner slammed into the beast, Drachma emitted a mighty roar, pulling away the armor from the creature’s back. Bright light poured from within the armor and Sterling thought he saw what looked like wings erupt from within. Drachma, unfazed by the strange sight, plunged his claws into the back of the creature. Sharp claws tore away chunks of white armor and flesh. The Elite screeched and tried to swing around, but the condemned men held tight. The governor roared again, tearing away more plated armor and viscera from the back of the Elite guard. The cannon found a target as the man holding the other arm slipped on the fluid and fell before the energy beams. A groan of metal alerted Sterling the creature was falling. He held tight as Drachma pushed off the guard’s back and landed on its chest.