Invasion (The K'Tai War Series Book 1)

by PP Corcoran

  “Good as new, Colonel.” Dave half turned his head to Kyle. “Time for us to be on our way, kid.” Without answering Kyle trotted off up the street and disappeared from view.

  “I’m headed for Fort Sheridan to join up with my unit,” said Reynolds. “A man of your skills would be welcome to join us.”

  A pair of steely blue eyes fixed on Reynolds and regarded her for a moment as if weighing up her offer. “Sorry, Colonel, me and the boy have other plans. This isn’t my war.”

  Reynolds was surprised at his answer. Not that he didn’t want to join her and the marines; Reynolds was under no illusions that whatever fleeting safety the fort could provide, the K’Tai would be headed that way soon enough, and with her limited resources the enemy would overrun it before too long. No, it was his comment that this war wasn’t his to fight that perturbed and irritated her.

  “This is going to be everyone’s war soon enough, mister.” The underlying anger in her words was barely disguised, but Dave apparently failed to notice her tone as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders.

  “Not mine,” Dave said more forcefully than perhaps he meant. His next words came out softer. “Anyway, good luck to you,” shoving his hand out to Reynolds. The colonel of marines took it and shook it firmly.

  “And you.”

  With a parting nod Dave headed down the street after Kyle. Reynolds watched him for a few seconds and thought of how at ease he appeared in the middle of a war zone. Dave disappeared from view. Reynolds hefted the machine pistol in her hands and looked around, getting her bearings before moving off in the direction of Fort Sheridan and her marines.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Pusher Train Station

  H HOUR PLUS TWO HOURS

  Dave sprinted across the open street, weaving to and fro to throw off the aim of any K’Tai sniper with the urge to take a shot at him. Reaching the far side of the street, he went down on one knee and brought his carbine up into his shoulder, sighting down the barrel as he methodically checked the windows and doors of the surrounding buildings for any sign of the K’Tai. Not finding any, he raised his arm and beckoned Kyle over from where he had been covering Dave. The need for one of them to provide cover while the other moved across open ground had slowed the pair’s progress to the Pusher Train Terminal, but it couldn’t be helped. Their little run in with the K’Tai soldiers that had been intent on ensuring that Colonel Reynolds’ day ended badly had only served to reinforce Dave’s previous warnings to Kyle that this was no game. The K’Tai were playing for keeps.

  Rather than slow his headlong dash across the street, Kyle used the permacrete wall of the building to stop him. Kyle had discovered that the padded upper arms of his jacket were adequate shock absorbers, although he was willing to bet that he would be sporting more than a few bruises tomorrow.

  “OK, Kyle,” said Dave. “The terminal is just on the end of this block. Once we’re inside, head directly for the stairs, avoid the elevators. We have no idea if the power is still on or, if it is, when it might fail, and being trapped inside a metal box 100 meters underground with the K’Tai hunting us doesn’t really appeal to me.”

  You and me both, thought Kyle as Dave went on.

  “You’re looking for the Clarke North Bound platform. We follow that for four kilometers until the main line terminates, there’s no public access there. The City Planners were going to build a new fabrication plant out there, hence the train line.” Dave shrugged his shoulders. “I guess they never got around to it. Well, whatever the reason, that line finishes in the middle of nowhere, so there’s no reason for the K’Tai to be out that way. From there it’s a few klicks across some open farm land before we hit the edge of the forest.”

  The sound of a distant explosion rumbled down the street, the sound of automatic weapons fire hard on its heels.

  “Time we were on our way, I think.”

  “I’m with you on that one,” agreed Kyle as he anxiously aimed his weapon back down the street in the general direction of the gunfire.

  Dave sprang to his feet and set off at a steady jog. Once he had covered about fifty meters, he halted in the lee of a shop doorway, pausing as Kyle now ran to join him. The pair repeated this strange dance as they covered the length of the block. Dave called a halt a few steps short of the next corner.

  Diagonally opposite them, at the base of an apartment complex, the darkened entrance to the Pusher Train Terminal beckoned. Kyle leaned out for a better view, only for Dave’s outstretched arm to block him and force him back.

  A few seconds later a faint whining reached Kyle’s ears, he was unable to pinpoint its exact source, but the noise grew steadily over the sounds of distant battle.

  “Run!” shouted Dave as he broke cover and sprinted for the terminal’s entrance, with Kyle hot on his heels. The whining became a distinct high-pitched roar as a large, ugly armored personnel carrier emerged from a side street and straddled the intersection. Kyle looked on in horrified fascination as the turret mounted atop the beast slewed in his direction. Too late, Kyle attempted to sidestep the abandoned vehicle directly in his path. Pain flashed through his nerves as his right knee connected with the front fender, spinning Kyle around like some pathetic impression of a ballet pirouette. Kyle hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. His carbine skittered away from him.

  Dave bounced off the entrance to the terminal, ready to push Kyle through before him, then his gaze alighted on the prostrate form of the younger man scrambling to get back on his feet. Dave didn’t hesitate. Stepping out in full view of the enemy gunner, he pulled back on the trigger of his carbine, the air split asunder with the sound of the small supersonic rounds passing through it as Dave advanced steadily on the armored Goliath. Bright sparks like angry bees swarmed over the vehicle’s uppers as the carbine rounds ricocheted harmlessly off the thick armor.

  Penetrating the armor with a carbine had never been Dave’s intention, getting the gunner’s attention had been. The turret’s lethal-looking barrel turned toward Dave and the gunner released a long, deadly stream of explosive rounds that blasted chunks out of the solid walls of the apartment building, filling the air with thick, gray dust and lumps of masonry.

  Kyle’s lungs filled with the choking cloud of dust, causing his eyes to water, but it wasn’t the dust that was causing the bitter taste in his mouth. Where Dave had once stood there was only a pile of rubble. Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement atop the K’Tai armored vehicle. Were the K’Tai leaving their armored shell to finish him at close range? Kyle furiously searched for his fallen carbine, only to spot the weapon partially obscured by fallen masonry. Ignoring the pain in his knee, Kyle began dragging himself toward it. If the K’Tai thought that he was going down without a fight, they had another thing coming. The sound of booted feet landing heavily behind him only served to urge him on. Powerful hands gripped his jacket and pulled him behind the abandoned flitter before a heavy weight fell on top of him, expelling the air from his lungs with a loud grunt and pinning him in place. A split second later Kyle’s ears were assaulted by a tremendous explosion which, despite the additional weight resting on his back, managed to lift him clear off the ground a few centimeters. His skin felt an intense wave of heat boil over him, rapidly fading as the smart combat clothing reacted to the change in temperature.

  With a loud grunt, the weight that protected him from the worst effects of the explosion rolled off him and lay panting beside him. Propping himself on his elbows, Kyle looked across at the dust-streaked face of Dave Carter.

  “Dave…How the…”

  Without turning his head, Dave replied, “Weakest armor is always on top. Distract the crew. Climb up the side. Place a Hellfire charge and retire to a safe distance. Piece of cake.”

  Kyle pushed himself into a sitting position and eyed the burning remains of the enemy vehicle, the fragment-peppered side of the flitter that had sheltered him and Dave and, finally, the chunks taken out of the side of the building by flying
debris.

  “And just what is a safe distance?”

  A mix of coughing and chuckling came from Dave as he sat up, his bright white toothy grin standing out in stark contrast to his dust-caked face.

  “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

  A grin of his own split Kyle’s face, only for it to become a grimace of pain as he put weight on his right leg and his damaged knee howled in protest.

  “Let me have a look at that,” said Dave as he removed a small wand-like device from his med pack. Turning on the medwand with a small beeping tone, he passed it over the front, back and both sides of Kyle’s knee before tapping it on the side of his wrist comm. Instantly it displayed a compact image of the damaged limb.

  “Hmm, looks like a hairline fracture of the knee cap, nothing a bone weaver couldn’t fix.”

  Dave looked furtively up and down the block before returning his gaze to Kyle.

  “Unfortunately, we don’t know if our friends over there managed to get a message off. We could be waist deep in K’Tai any second, so fixing this is going to have to wait until we get somewhere a bit more peaceful.”

  Dave returned the medwand to his pack, withdrawing in its place a hypo spray which he injected into Kyle’s knee without asking.

  “That was Numall. It’ll help you manage the pain without dulling too many of your senses.”

  Kyle tentatively put some weight on the leg and it came as a relief that what had been unbearable pain was now reduced to a manageable level. Limping over to where his carbine lay, he recovered it and swiftly checked it for damage. Satisfied that all still seemed to be in working order, he turned to follow Dave, who was already headed for the now blackened and scarred terminal entrance. As he reached the once pristine glass doors now lying shattered and broken, Kyle paused to take a last look at the street which had once been full of people meandering over neatly trimmed grass and through well-maintained trees on a spotless sidewalk. Now Gemini City resembled a war zone. Abandoned vehicles filled the streets. Broken glass crunched beneath his feet and the air was filled with the mix of acrid smoke and the smell of burning flesh from the K’Tai carrier that Dave had destroyed with such apparent ease.

  “Enough daydreaming, kid, we need to keep moving,” called Dave.

  Kyle simply nodded as he walked past Dave, following the signs that would lead him to the stairs and down deep below the raging battlefield. His thoughts turned to the one person that meant more to him than anything else. Dave wasn’t the only one who was in a hurry to be reunited with his loved ones.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Plan Shadow

  H HOUR PLUS TWO HOURS

  Reynolds craned her neck as she attempted to look around the still smoking remnants of what, by the look of the tattered material that was visible poking up from the small mounds of rubble, had been an up-market clothing store. Like everything else in the area that surrounded Fort Sheridan on the northeast edge of Gemini City, it had been ravaged by the heavy K’Tai fire as they fought to subdue the fort’s defenders. The marines of the 182nd Battalion. Her marines.

  Reynolds let loose a wave of profanities to make a drill sergeant blush. She remembered how Governor Vandenberg demanded her presence at his mansion when a video conference would have sufficed. But no, he showed his authority by having her stand before him like some misbehaving school girl summoned to the principal’s office, instead of preparing her marines for what was to come. Idiot!

  The ear-splitting shriek of yet more bat-wing aero fighters came in at rooftop height and the staccato sound of their heavy pulse cannon fired, as they tried again to breach the energy shields that somehow the marines trapped in the fort had managed to keep online. As the fighters veered sharply away, an anti-air missile whooshed out of its launcher, hidden from view behind the fort’s blackened and scarred walls. Seconds later it slammed into the wing root of one of the K’Tai attackers, ripping it off and sending the little fighter cartwheeling over and over until its final, fatal impact with the side of a towering high-rise. The resultant explosion sent pieces of the fighter and building raining down on the K’Tai soldiers who had been using the building as shelter.

  Whatever celebrations the marines may have been making were cut short as a battery of K’Tai energy cannons fired off a barrage, the shield around the beleaguered fort wavering as the generators struggled to cope with the sudden increase in demand until, inevitably, one of the protesting generators failed completely. A section of the energy shielding flashed briefly, signifying to anyone with eyes that could see that part of the fort’s defenses was laid bare. Like water bursting from a dam, a wave of K’Tai soldiers rushed forward, supported by light armored vehicles while the energy cannons sought out a new target in the hope of widening the hole in the shield. From the walls of the fort the marine defenders let loose withering rifle and automatic weapons fire, cutting down the oncoming K’Tai. But no matter their losses, the K’Tai continued to press home their attack and, as the first of them reached the base of the walls, it seemed that at last they would breach the fort. A second bright flash signaled the shield generators coming back online. The shield, once more at full strength, could shrug off the K’Tai fire. For the unfortunate K’Tai at the base of the fort’s walls, now robbed of any heavy fire support, they became easy prey for the marine defenders who went about the business of dispatching them with clinical precision.

  Perversely, Reynolds and the K’Tai had the same objective: getting inside the fort. However, Reynolds had one advantage the attacking K’Tai did not. While the enemy banged their heads again and again against the energy shields, her marines were slipping away, a platoon at a time, unnoticed, through the storm drains and heading for the hills to regroup.

  That was assuming, of course, that Major Agani, the battalion second in command, had implemented Plan Shadow. Well, there’s only one way to find out, thought Reynolds. Slipping out of her perch, she began the perilous journey circumnavigating the K’Tai positions as she headed for the point where the storm drains, her marines should be using surfaced, hoping beyond hope that her plan had worked, but fearing what she might find.

  #

  H HOUR PLUS TWO

  “As you can see, my lady, as soon as we breach the energy shield the humans are able to repair it. My assault forces are taking heavy losses for little or no gain,” explained Commander Larav, his tactician’s eyes never leaving the battle raging before him.

  The Lady Kara, commander of the Black Legion, Head of House Rohka, twice decorated personally by the Gerent for acts of bravery and, if rumor was to be believed, Lord Harvik’s chosen successor as overall Commander of the Fleet, did not answer the K’Tai officer standing beside her immediately. Unlike him, Lady Kara had removed her battle helm, which was now being held by a studiously silent bodyman whose own black armor bore the crest of House Rohka, identifying him as a member of Lady Kara’s personal staff. The fact that her chosen bodyman was a Valan, a subjugated species, never crossed the officer’s mind. If he had taken a moment to ponder he would not have recalled a time when Lady Kara was unescorted by this Valan. However, at this point, his main worry was that his Lady was exposing herself to enemy fire. He did not voice his concerns, though. Those closest to her never liked it when she removed her armor, but she insisted it was important that the legionnaires she led should see with their own eyes that she was willing to share the same danger as they, a fact borne out by the brutal scar that ran from the corner of her left eye to the top of her lip, courtesy of a secessionist’s blade during the Legion’s campaign on Oslav.

  The more effeminate ladies of the royal court had been appalled by what they saw as a harrowing disfigurement. Some had gone as far as recommending reputable surgeons that could return her face to its former unadulterated beauty with a few moments and a dermal re-generator. Lady Kara had scoffed at their shallowness and obsession with outward appearances, for Lady Kara was a warrior, a student who followed the teachings of Rig, and Rig had no place for the
petty concerns of outward appearance. Duty, honor and loyalty came before all other considerations. Besides, she had taken unbridled pleasure at those so-called refined ladies recoiling in horror and their fake concern for her well-being, while all the time they were relegating her from the pool of eligible females that were competing to land a well-bred noble who could advance their own houses’ ambitions. Kara’s late father had schooled her well in the ways of the Gerent’s court and she had witnessed the naked ambition of these ‘ladies’ on the few occasions that her widowed father had been unable to avoid his presence being required by the Gernet for some grandiose function.

  On such an occasion Kara’s father would force the young tomboy, who much preferred weapons and combat training with the Legion instructors, to wear the most flamboyant and feminine of clothes and accompany him to Tarat. Kara would be in the most petulant of moods on the long journey from Coran, the planet that was the home of House Rohka and the Black Legion. The only fun she ever remembered having at court was when, as a young girl on the verge of blossoming into a young lady, she caught a well-dressed and obviously self-important male ogling her. The more she tried to ignore him, the larger the stupid grin on his face became until, unable to put up with his leching a moment longer, Kara had fixed her most gracious smile on her face and approached the young gent. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly was not what happened next. Kara had halted in front of him, bowing her head till her chin touched her chest, in the submissive manner that was expected of a Lady at court. As the young poppycock had opened his mouth to give his permission for her to rise, she had thrust both arms forward, striking the male a fraction below the ribcage; as the air bellowed out of him and his body involuntarily doubled over, Kara snapped her head upright, her thick skull bone catching the point of his chin and flicking him backwards to land in a dazed heap on the floor. Kara bent down and leaned in close so that their faces were only a hair’s breadth apart, and her voice was low and predatory as it passed through bared teeth. “If you ever look at me again without the respect I am due, I will kill you with my bare hands!”