Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy

by David McDonald

  “You might be right, Lord Quill, but time is the one thing we don’t have. I have men, and I have a surplus of equipment and supplies. I need to use my strengths such as they are.”

  “Sire, meaning no disrespect, I don’t understand what the hurry is. Even a few weeks could make all the difference here.”

  The Duke sighed, and for a moment Quill could see all of the Duke’s years weighing heavily on him.

  “Lord Quill, whatever your failings, I have the utmost respect for your military experience and knowledge. But this is about something more—it is about politics,” the Duke almost spat the word, “and about what it is to be a leader.”

  Quill said nothing, but waited for the Duke to continue.

  “The Empire is at a tipping point. The Emperor is only a boy, and his Regent is one of the city’s faction of nobles. As far as they are concerned, there is nothing of importance outside of the capital. We country nobles do what we can to counteract their influence, but having the Emperor’s ear is a huge advantage for them when it comes to power games. It’s bad enough that one of our faction failed to stop the invasion. Gods curse them, the city nobles will already be making political capital from that. I can’t believe that the combined forces of the Empire won’t be able to stop this army—what you see here is only a fraction of the troops that they command—but if I am unable to stem the invasion before it reaches the capital, it will only reinforce their view of our worth. It will make things far, far worse, and we may lose what independence we have. It’s not only that it will be bad for us—I have never sought my own gain above the good of the realm—but that it will be bad for the Empire. Too many of our subjects live outside the capital. They deserve to be championed, too, and the city nobles would rather forget they exist.”

  “I see, sire,” Quill said. He did see, but he wasn’t sure it was quite that simple, or that the Duke was not underestimating the danger the invaders posed. “But would a few weeks or months really be held against you if you could demonstrate their necessity for victory?”

  “That’s the second part, Lord Quill. Leadership is not about privilege; it is about responsibility. The people of the Empire trust their rulers to protect them. It is part of the contract that we have with them. Every soldier who has died—or every civilian—is someone whom we have let down; that we have failed. Every day that the nomads occupy our duchies, more will die, and each life matters,” the Duke said. “And the nomads won’t stay in one place for long—it’s not in their nature. They will continue towards the heart of the Empire, and as they get closer, more lives will be lost. The frontier duchies are less populated and, more importantly, accustomed to invasions. As the nomads get closer to the capital, the towns have weaker walls and there are more concentrated populations with nowhere to flee. It will be a red slaughter, day in and day out. The nomads have to be stopped before that happens.”

  “I’m sorry I doubted you, sire,” Quill said, giving a slight bow of his head. “We will just have to do the best we can with what we have.”

  “Lord Quill, telling me what you really think is not something you ever need to be sorry for. I have plenty of men who will tell me exactly what I want to hear.”

  Quill laughed. “Sire, I have a friend that I hope you get to meet in person one day. I think you’d find you have a lot in common—from ideas about leadership to the importance of speaking your mind. My friend Drax is incapable of holding back.”

  They continued to inspect the army. The veterans were mainly infantry, armed with short, stabbing swords and tall shields, but Quill was relieved to see around five hundred heavy cavalry, as well as twice as many light cavalry. He nodded in approval—the light cavalry would be able to act as a screen, while if given the opportunity, the heavy cavalry would ride over anything that got in its path. The levies, however, were a bit of a mix. There were a number of companies of archers armed with longbows that Quill liked the look of. Their range would come in very handy, especially at the beginning of the battle to harry the nomads as they approached, and rain down death upon them during their charge. The rest were mostly pikemen who also carried short swords for close-in fighting. Quill had mixed feelings about this group—on the one hand it didn’t take much training to use a pike, but on the other hand, the most important quality in a pikeman was the willingness to stand firm in the face of a charge. The levies were untested, and none—not even the levies themselves—knew how it would go when it came time to hold their positions in the face of the enemy.

  There were also a few specialist companies. Some were engineers, responsible for everything from building fortifications as needed to building bridges. There was also an artillery company, armed with ballistae and trebuchets. The trebuchets were the most advanced piece of machinery Quill had seen among the Empire’s arsenal since landing on the planet, and for a moment he wondered why none of the civilizations he had encountered had progressed beyond a certain point. Quill remembered the smashed computer in the village on the mountain and the hints scattered all over the countryside of an older civilization—or many—that had mysteriously disappeared. He wondered what had happened to the creatures that had produced the calculating machine, and why the most advanced civilization of the present hadn’t even gotten to the steam engine. The Duke was staring at him impatiently, and Quill pulled his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

  According to the Duke’s scribes, the army was made up of just over four thousand men, almost half of whom were veterans, making it only slightly bigger than what the scouts claimed the nomads had been able to muster. Quill would have preferred to have a much larger advantage, knowing that it took a lot of troops to make up for an enemy possessing superior tactics or technology. Quill frowned at the reminder that there was still the unknown quantity of the shadowy riders to deal with. He had no idea how many men they were worth. His only consolation was that the first army to face the nomads had held its own for at least the first part of the battle, and it had only been half the size of the one the Duke had put together.

  “Sire, what happens if we are unable to stop them?”

  The Duke seemed about to reply with anger, then visibly calmed himself.

  “I suppose that’s a fair question,“ he said, smiling slightly. “I am, of course, operating on the assumption that we will be victorious—to do anything less would be admitting defeat before we even march. But, if we aren’t, hopefully it will shock the Regent into action before they reach the capital’s walls. He can call on far more resources than I can.”

  “Sire, forgive me if the idea of being part of a noble sacrifice doesn’t appeal. I’d much rather win.”

  The Duke roared with laughter. “Me too, Lord Quill, me too. So, do you have any further thoughts on deployment or tactics?”

  “A few. I’m not sure our winged beasts can carry enough rocks to do any real damage, but we can cause some problems for the enemy,” Quill said. “More importantly, it will be great for reconnaissance. Air power is a game changer.”

  “I think you just made your journey worthwhile, Lord Quill,” the Duke said, his tone the warmest it had been since Quill had returned. “Any other suggestions?”

  “Yes, sire. The nomads fight on horseback using those repeating bows, and are lightly armored and fast.” The Duke nodded. “We need to be careful not to fall into the trap of fighting on their terms.”

  “What do you mean?” the Duke asked.

  “They will either try to draw us out and cut us to pieces, or dart in and out of range and pepper us with arrows,” Quill explained, “like a little dog nipping at a big one.”

  “So what do we do about it?”

  “As we approach, you should use your light cavalry as a screen to stop the nomads from harassing your flanks. You need shield men on either side of the column, and with the warning your light cavalry gives, they can keep the arrows off of us.” Quill dismounted and beg
an to draw pictures in the dirt. “When we get close enough to the nomads’ main force, we need to pick the right terrain and wait for them to come to us. You’ll want a mixed force at the front, veterans to form a shield wall mixed with pikemen, and then the archers behind them.”

  “Why the mix?” the Duke asked.

  “The nomads will attempt to break your front line with their damn archery. Given the reported range of their bows, the shield wall will stop that, and the longbows will be able to rain death upon them and force them to charge—they’ll have to get in among your men so you can’t use your bows for fear of hitting your own. Then the pikes will stop the charge, as long as the levies stand firm,” Quill said. “This is where you want good terrain with some cover to either side. I’d split my heavy cavalry in two, and try and hide them to both the left and right. While the nomads are engaged with your infantry, the heavy cavalry will hit them from both sides—the hammer and the anvil. If they try and escape to the front, they run into the pikes, and if they retreat, your archers come back into play. The trebuchets and ballistae will supplement the archers quite nicely, too.”

  “I like the sound of that plan, Lord Quill,” the Duke said.

  “So do I, sire, but they say that plans only survive until contact with the enemy.” Quill straightened up and brushed the dust from his knees. “I do think that this is our best option, and all things being equal, I like our chances.”

  Quill grabbed his horse’s reins, and in one swift motion mounted it.

  “The important thing is, sire, that we can’t lose our heads. If we pursue too aggressively, or allow the nomads to draw us out of formation, they will cut us to pieces. We can’t compete with their mobility.”

  “Excellent work, Lord Quill. I will call a meeting tonight with all of the commanders, and you can present this to them.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better coming from you, sire?” Quill asked.

  “Don’t worry, I will impress upon them the need to listen to you as if the words are my own. Anyone who fails to do so will answer to me,” the Duke said. “And on the day of the battle I will require you in the command tent. Marius will have overall command, but he is not the sort of man who would ignore an advisor of your experience—especially once he sees your planning.”

  “And where will you be, sire?” Quill asked. “The command tent?”

  “No, I trust Marius, and my presence would only undermine him. I will be doing my duty, ensuring that I am seen in my armor.” He laughed at the look of horror on Quill’s face. “I will not be going anywhere near the front line. I have nothing to prove, and I won’t be leading any charges. If I were to fall, it would have too detrimental an effect on morale. But seeing me riding up and down the lines should hearten the men.”

  “It sounds like you have it all worked out, sire,” Quill said.

  “As much as is possible, Lord Quill,” the Duke replied. “Now the only thing left to do is fight.”

  “Not quite, sire,” Quill said. At the Duke’s questioning look he went on. “The only thing left to do is win.”

  Chapter 14

  For an army that hadn’t existed even a few weeks before, the Duke’s forces made very good time. Quill supposed that the farmers and foresters were used to working from sunrise to sunset, and probably saw this as a respite from their usual backbreaking labor—at least until the fighting started. Still, Quill was impressed—they kept up with the veterans, ensuring that there was no resentment from them at being slowed down. For a culture that avoided out-and-out warfare, the Empire had a strong military tradition. It was only internal conflict that was solved by the system of champions that had given Quill his place in society. There were constant skirmishes with the nomads to the east, and Quill learned that there was a loose confederation of city states to the north of the Empire with whom they occasionally came into conflict as well.

  The Empire had set up an academy to train commanders who were expected to serve in one of these hot spots or on the vast inland sea, chasing pirates. This meant that there was a solid core of experienced commanders to call upon in the rare times that mass mobilization was needed. While many had died at the beginning of the nomad invasion during the fall of Astarlia, they had only been one part of the Empire’s resources. Quill had been impressed by the commanders—when he had presented his plans, there had been none of the usual arguing for arguing’s sake, or the fear of anything new that he had come to expect from military minds. Instead, he had been asked a series of probing questions that went straight to the heart of the plan, and had been given some suggestions that had refined and improved his original ideas.

  Quill, Gamora, and Ansari had been kept busy flying reconnaissance flights. They had already prevented a number of casualties when they had been able to warn the army before it stumbled into a large force of nomads that had gone ahead of the main army in search of fresh spoils. Instead, the nomads had been surrounded and wiped out, a much-needed victory that had raised morale and stiffened the spines of the untested levies. Quill was much more confident that they would stand firm now; there was nothing like the taste of victory to create self-confidence. He knew that the real test still lay ahead, and it would be a much tougher battle than this one—but he was happy to take whatever advantages he could find.

  Every night, the soldiers would drill before they were allowed to eat, and then endured another round of practice after their meal. There had been some grumbling to start with, but after that first battle it seemed like the soldiers had realized the importance of being prepared. They trained in their own specialties separately before joining each other for joint exercises. Quill had been pleasantly surprised by how the veterans had embraced the levies, but he guessed it was probably the universal pragmatism of the career soldier at work. It was in their best interest to make sure that the men fighting alongside them were as prepared as possible.

  Gamora rode up alongside Quill, and together they watched the men train.

  “I wish we had more time,” she said. “If you gave me even a few months, I could turn this into a real army—and I’d back them against anyone.”

  Gamora had been invaluable in helping train the men. Quill was willing to admit that she was a better hand-to-hand fighter than him, and she had been raised from birth to be not only an unstoppable fighter, but a commander of troops as well. Thanos, her adoptive father and one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy, had always intended her to be one of his chief lieutenants, and yet here she was, using the skills and training he had given her to help—not destroy. Quill felt a wave of admiration for her, and not for the first time. He’d never met someone who had so completely transcended their origins.

  “You’re right,” he said. “They are quality soldiers. And I think that when it comes to the crunch, they’ll make us proud.”

  Suddenly there was a commotion among the picket lines, and the sound of horses whinnying with fear. Neither Quill or Gamora blinked an eye.

  “That’ll be Ansari returning,” Gamora said.

  The horses still hadn’t gotten used to the flying beasts and reacted to their presence with a mix of terror and aggression. There had been an attempt at keeping them separate, but the horses could smell the flying beasts anywhere in the camp, and reacted no differently whether they could see them or not. Unfortunately, the campsite hadn’t had too many flat places for the creatures to land, so they were closer than Quill would have liked. This time he knew that Ansari had important news, because she didn’t even bother tethering her beast herself as she would have normally done, instead throwing the rein to a startled groomsman and running straight for Quill and Gamora. When she skidded to a halt, she was breathless.

  “The nomads have started moving!” Ansari exclaimed, not even bothering with a greeting. “If we keep going the way we have been, we will meet them late tomorrow afternoon.”

  Quill grinned. “Ah, but
we won’t be going on the way we have been.” He shouted out some orders and grabbed the page who had appeared in response. “Take this message to the Duke. Tell him it’s time to implement Plan Roadhouse. Got that?”

  The page nodded, and without even asking what Quill was talking about, disappeared into the camp. Not fifteen minutes later, horns rang out, and they heard the sound of men hastily gathering up their equipment.

  “What’s going on?” Ansari asked.

  “One of the first rules of war is never to simply react to what your enemy is doing,” Gamora said. “And certainly, never to be where your enemy expects you to be.”

  While he had used Ansari to track the location of the enemy, Quill had spent most of his time on his own reconnaissance flights scouting out the countryside between his army and the nomads. He had flagged several sites as an ideal place for their battle, and was pleased that one of the most favorable ones was with within reach. It was a broad valley with wooded slopes that would not only serve to funnel the nomads towards his front line, but would also allow him to conceal the heavy cavalry on his flanks. By the time the sun rose, the army was in place.

  Quill rode up to where the Duke and his council stood overlooking the battle lines. Marius, the old warrior, looked at home, but Tremas seemed out of place in his rich furs. Still, Quill had to admire the Master of Coin—he could have stayed behind quite easily, and a man of lesser courage would have done so. Quill dismounted and moved to stand beside the Duke.

  “Do you think they will walk into our trap?” the Duke asked. He was as anxious as Quill had ever seen him, crackling with nervous energy as he paced back and forth.

  “Sire, nothing is certain when it comes to war,” Quill said. “But I don’t see what choice they have. If they go around us, they run the risk of us mounting a surprise attack on their rear, or being trapped between two forces—they don’t know whether this is the only army they’ll face. And the sides of the valley are too steep for them to come down upon us, which is one of the reasons why I chose it. I don’t think that they have any choice but to engage us.”