Blood of Heroes (The Ember War Saga Book 3)

by Richard Fox

  “—gets off the horn with his girlfriend that we’ve got drones,” Standish yelled.

  “Got the one on our six,” Bailey said.

  “What about the one that went around us?” Standish asked as his turret spun around and around, hunting a target.

  “How many drones did you see?” Hale asked.

  “Hi, sir, welcome back to the battle.” Standish’s twin gauss cannons fired a burst. “Two for sure…I think I saw another five or six between the clouds. One’s right on top of us, somewhere.”

  “Gall,” Hale said over the open command channel, “my gunners think they saw up to five more drones. Can we handle this or do we need to abort?”

  Both turrets opened up, drowning out Durand’s response. For just a second, Hale wished this battle was happening in orbit where there wasn’t an atmosphere to host the din of battle.

  Something slammed into the Mule’s cockpit and the ship dove. Hale’s restraints kept him in his seat as the Mule tumbled end over end, tossing Hale around like he was on a rollercoaster. A flash of ruby light burst from the cockpit and flooded the cargo bay.

  The tumbling continued.

  “Sir, drone got the pilots,” Standish said. “I’m open to suggestions!”

  “Bail out!” Hale slapped the emergency release on his harness and used the magnetic linings in his boots to lock himself to the deck plating. Even with the world spinning around him, he could still make it to the exit ramp—which was shut. Hale took uneasy steps along the deck, walking like he was drunk.

  As the stricken Mule nosed down, Hale felt gravity try to pull him back to the cockpit, but he bent forward and used the electro-magnets in his glove to gain a handhold against the deck.

  The ship shook as Standish’s turret ejected. Jaundiced yellow light flooded into the cargo bay as Torni got the rear hatch open. Hale looked up and saw a sky full of smoke.

  “Hey! I’ve got a malfunction!” Bailey’s cry was full of panic. Her armored fists pounded against the view block on the turret hatch.

  Yarrow, Steuben, Orozco and Torni had climbed to the edge of the ramp. All four looked back to Hale.

  “I’ve got her!” Hale shouted. He used his mag locks to climb “up” the deck, like he was climbing the sheer face of a mountain cliff. Hale reached Bailey’s turret, flipped open a yellow and black panel, and wrapped his hand around a red handle within. He locked eyes with Bailey through the view port and nodded to her. She braced herself against the turret seat. Hale yanked the handle.

  Explosive bolts severed the turret from the ship and sent it hurtling away.

  Hale unfastened his mag locks and used his augmented strength to launch himself up and out of the drop ship. He pulled his ripcord and went through the bone-jarring shake of his parachute catching air.

  The Mule slammed into the ground beneath him, erupting into a fireball. Hale grabbed a riser and pulled hard, angling him away from the Mule’s wreckage. The air around him was thick with smoke and the smell of burning grease.

  Hale pressed his feet and knees together and hit the ground. What was a textbook parachute landing fall went awry as the parachute kept traveling across the ground, taking Hale with it. Hale fell against fire-blackened soil and scraped along the surface. He unsnapped one riser, which put all the pull on the remaining length of carbon-fiber cord. His attached shoulder plowed into the ground, burying him up to his chest before he came to a halt.

  Hale wiped soot off his visor and got to his feet, extricating himself from the parachute and unsnapping his rifle from his back. He’d landed in the settlement Galogesvi, or what had been Galogesvi. The adobe homes and wooden buildings that made up Galogesvi were burnt out or still on fire. Dead civilians lay scattered through the streets. Men, women and children…all victims of the terrible violence that had come to this place.

  He was too late.

  “This is Hale. Form up on…the only three-story building, the one that’s on fire,” he broadcast through his suit’s IR. He wasn’t surprised when no answer came back. With all the ambient heat and smoke, the infrared communication system was practically useless.

  A banshee’s wail broke through the sound of the roaring flames.

  With no other options, Hale ran toward the scream. He found Bailey’s turret embedded in a house wall, the parachute crumpled over the roof like a discarded blanket. A pair of banshees clawed at the metal sphere, digging their talons into the gaps between plates.

  Hale thumbed his rifle to high power and drilled the nearest banshee through the spine. The gauss bullet penetrated the other side of its body and blew off a chunk of the house. The other banshee turned and managed a scream of rage before Hale blew its head clean off.

  The banshees twitched on the ground as he ran to the turret. Bailey opened her turret pod and accepted Hale’s hand as she climbed out.

  “To hell with this planet. I already hate it,” she said, slapping a magazine into her carbine and sighing at the Mule’s wreckage. “My sniper rifle was in there.”

  “But you weren’t. Let’s find everyone else,” Hale said. Eagle fighters sparred with Xaros drones overhead. Aircraft darted around and through pillars of smoke stretching to the edge of the canyon holding Galogesvi.

  “I got a good look at the place on the way down. Whole town is burnt to a crisp,” she said. “Big fire on the outskirts burning through farmland.”

  The snap of gauss rifles crackled in the distance.

  “Sounds like us,” Bailey said.

  “No time to waste.” Hale ran toward the sound of gunfire.

  They found the rest of their team on the second floor of a wrecked building, one of the few that had a Dotok language sign across the façade. A dozen dead banshees lay in the street around them.

  A lance of blood-red light slammed into the Marines’ position, slicing through the thin walls and nearly hitting Steuben.

  Hale swung around a corner and saw a banshee, head and shoulders taller than the rest they’d encountered, its right arm replaced by a cannon that glowed from within. Banshees loped past the weaponized creature, running on all fours like charging gorillas.

  Hale aimed for the tall banshee’s head and saw the weapon swing straight toward him. He fell to the ground as he squeezed the trigger, sending the shot into the sky as a beam of red energy sliced through the air right where his head had been. The beam scythed down, severing the wooden frame of the adobe building. The walls creaked, and collapsed.

  The Marine rolled out of the way as one side of the building toppled toward him and he snapped off another shot, hoping to foul the banshee’s next blast. He came to a stop with his belly to the ground and managed to half aim his next shot. The round clipped the banshee on the shoulder, knocking it back a step. Gauss rifle fire stitched across its torso and it slammed into the ground like a felled tree. The cannon arm burned from within and disintegrated, leaving the rest of the banshee behind.

  “Hey sir, good job not being dead. Real proud,” Standish said, forgoing the IR and just shouting so his lieutenant could hear him.

  “Did you find Bailey?” Torni asked.

  “Bailey? She’s right—” Hale looked back at the collapsed building and saw the Australian Marine’s foot sticking out of the rubble.

  Tossing rubble aside, Hale tried to uncover her head and chest first so she could breathe. He pushed a lump of adobe away and found her limp arm sticking out of a void.

  “Bailey!”

  Steuben grabbed the edge of the mostly intact wall and heaved it off Bailey. She sat up groggily, the top of her helmet dented in. Hale pulled her clear. Steuben dropped the wall and a waft of pulverized concrete dusted the three of them.

  “That got me wobbly. If my head’s going to hurt like I’ve got a hangover, I could have at least been a little shit-faced,” she said.

  “Yarrow, check her out,” Hale said over his shoulder to the medic.

  “Raider Six, this is Gall,” Durand’s transmission came over radio waves.

&nb
sp; “This is Raider.”

  “Mission abort, I repeat, mission abort. This valley is crawling with drones and I don’t have the fighters to clear them or get you out of here safely. Everything I’ve got in the air is going back to capital, New Abhaile. The Dotok say they can sortie a couple dozen fighters to help us out. You’ll be on your own for a couple hours,” she said.

  “What else is new,” Hale mumbled. He pressed the transmit button on his forearm display. “Roger, Gall. I’ve got six for pick up. Crew of Mule Eight is KIA.”

  There was only static for several seconds. Hale repeated his message.

  “Hale…civilians! There are civilians to—” Durand cut in and out. “East. Say again, civilians to your east—side of the fire—hostiles present!”

  “Gall? Gall?”

  There was no response.

  Hale looked to the east where a raging inferno crept toward the edge of the town, throwing up a wall of smoke and flame from one end of the canyon to the other.

  “Bailey, you good?” Hale asked her. She was on her feet, her gauss carbine in one hand, the barrel bent at an ugly angle. She tossed the useless weapon aside and drew her pistol.

  “I ain’t getting any better just standing here, sir.”

  “Let’s go.” Hale took off to the east. They passed over the bodies of a few dead civilians and more than one defeated banshee. By the time they reached the edge of the fire wall, there was no sign of what Gall had been talking about.

  Hale lowered his rifle, his eyes glued to the raging inferno ahead of him. What had once been an orchard of neatly spaced trees had become a field of torches. The intense heat from the fire activated the auto-cooling system within his suit.

  “When she said ‘side of the fire,’” Torni said, “she meant the other side of the fire. Didn’t she?”

  “There’s no way around,” Yarrow said, pointing to the cliffs.

  There were civilians beyond that fire, innocents that needed Hale and his Marines. His choice was easy.

  “We don’t go around,” Hale said.

  “Sir,” Standish said, “sir, you’ve got that crazy ‘I’ve got a great idea’ look in your eye, don’t you?”

  Hale turned around and steeled himself. Selling this wouldn’t be easy.

  “Button up,” Hale said. “Set your suits for void. We’ve got the air to make it.” Hale tapped a command onto his forearm and felt his suit tighten against his body. His helmet plates constricted and the smell of recycled air filled his visor. The rest of his Marines and Steuben followed suit.

  “Follow me!” Hale charged into the inferno.

  ****

  Caas grabbed her little brother’s hand and fought to get him out from under the toreen tree roots as soot-stained fruit fell from overladen branches, the spikey skin stabbing through her tunic. Ar’ri barely fit into his chosen hiding place; the noorla would find him in seconds. A gust of wind sent choking smoke over her.

  “Come on, Ar’ri. You can’t stay there!” Caas coughed and yanked at his arm again. She was only six, but she was still Ar’ri’s big sister. He had to listen to her.

  “No!” The little boy tried to pull his hand to his chest, but Caas’ hold on him was absolute.

  “The monsters will get you, Ar’ri. You have to come!”

  A noorla’s wail sent a chill down her spine. They’d attacked during breakfast with no warning from New Abhaile or the village guard. Mother and Father promised that Galogesvi was too far away, too small, to be attacked. Once the tunnels were repaired, they’d go to New Abhaile and leave with the good aliens Ancient Pa’lon promised were coming. That was their promise, and her parents had always kept their word. But the noorla were here.

  They’d sent her and Ar’ri with the schoolmaster through the orchards, promising they’d catch up with them at the storm shelter. Father had been holding one of the family rifles; Mother had the other. They both promised over and over again that they’d see their children at the shelter.

  Then the fire cut off the village, and noorla were waiting for them in the shelter.

  Dotok screams came from behind her. She glanced back and saw dark shapes moving through rolls of straw in the harvested fields. A woman ran from the edge of the field, but a dark arm shot out and dragged her behind a tractor. Her screams cut off suddenly.

  A noorla stepped around the tractor, claws dripping blood. It looked right at her. Caas’ fear melted away, replaced with resolve. There was no escape. Nowhere to run this time.

  Caas pulled her brother up and buried his head against her chest. He sobbed, clutching at the back of her arms just like every time he’d wake up from a nightmare.

  “Don’t look, Ar’ri. Don’t look.” She hugged her brother close and stared into the fire. She said a prayer, asking forgiveness for all the bad things she’d done. She hadn’t been to a shrine in weeks, and Mother always said that the bad things you did would weigh down your soul.

  A monster charged out of the fire, flames clinging to its arms and shoulders. It held a rifle like her parents’, but it wasn’t as big as the noorla. It raised the weapon and pointed it right at Caas. Caas pulled her brother close and closed her eyes.

  She heard a snap break in the air overhead and waited another second, sure her life was almost over. She opened a single eye and saw the new arrival fire again as a white flash from the end of its rifle sent another snap past her.

  She heard the noorla roar in pain and felt the ground shake. The noorla lay dead, its claws contracting against its chest.

  Their savior got closer, and Caas saw that it wasn’t a noorla. Its armor, once white, was fire blackened and covered in soot. Flames still licked at its arms and the back of its helmet… and there were more just like it coming through the fire.

  “Caas, what’s happening? Can I look?” Ar’ri asked.

  “I think…I think more demons are here,” she said.

  The new demon fired over their heads, and Ar’ri squealed and tried to worm his way back beneath the tree.

  “I count three more around the barn!” the demon shouted in Dotok and ran toward them. Terror petrified Caas as it got closer and then went to a knee next to them. The armor wasn’t anything like the noorla; it looked more like what her father wore to the monthly battle training.

  It turned a mirrored faceplate to them, and the helmet expanded slightly with a hiss of air. The visor swung up and a pale-skinned alien with short blond hair looked at her with pale blue eyes.

  “Are you OK?” The words came from a speaker attached to its throat.

  Caas took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs. Ar’ri joined in sympathetic fright.

  “No! No!” Torni raised a hand and tried to calm the children. “I’m human, a Marine from the Breitenfeld. We’re here to help. Please stop screaming. I’m a friend. Ugh … meln. Meln.”

  Caas recoiled from Torni’s touch and finally stopped screaming.

  “Breitenfeld?” she said. She remembered the word from the news broadcasts that her parents had watched over and over again. Ancient Pa’lon said help would come from the Breitenfeld.

  “Yes, Breitenfeld. Is this thing not working?” Torni grabbed the speaker against her neck and flicked it with her finger.

  “You’re ugly,” Ar’ri said. He peeked over Caas’ shoulder with tear-streaked eyes.

  “It is working. You see that shelter over there?” Torni pointed to the squat building the village used to weather storm squalls. “Go in there and wait for me. We’ll get you out of here once it’s safe.”

  Caas and Ar’ri shook their heads.

  “No! Monsters,” Ar’ri said.

  “There are noorla inside,” Caas said.

  “Inside the shelter?”

  The children nodded.

  The Marine put two fingers to her ear. “Sir, this is Torni…”

  ****

  Hale vaulted over a low stone wall and spotted a banshee holding an iron bar like it was a club. The banshee stood along a canal, poki
ng into the water with the tip of the bar.

  “Contact! One on the canal,” Hale said. He slowed to aim when the banshee swung around and hurled the bar at him like it was a javelin. Pain exploded across his arms and forehead as the bar deflected off his rifle and smashed into him. Hale staggered back and tripped against the wall he’d just jumped over.

  The banshee roared a challenge and lumbered toward him.

  A crack in the air from a gauss pistol sent a round into the banshee’s arm. The thing looked at the source of the annoyance and snarled. Bailey fired her pistol faster than anyone else Hale had known until it clicked empty. She replaced the noise of her shots with a string of profanity as she reloaded.

  The banshee turned its attention to her and swung an overhand strike down on the squat Marine. Bailey rolled to the side and put a round in the banshee’s exposed jaw. The bullet shattered bone and tendrils of gray blood dripped from the wound. The banshee gagged on its own blood and lashed out at Bailey.

  Hale found his rifle in the dirt and got off a shot, hitting the banshee in the stomach. The beast fell to its knees, then to its elbows. Bailey jammed the muzzle of her pistol into an eye slit and sent a bullet careening through its skull.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a real weapon right now,” she said. She looked at her pistol like it was a child’s toy and shook her head.

  “Sir, we’re outside the shelter,” Orozco said through the IR. “Steuben and Yarrow are at the edge of town. They say we’re clear of banshees. I can see people moving in the shelter, but no one’s answering. Want us to go in?”

  “Stand by, I’ll be right there,” Hale said.

  Hale got back to his feet, his ears ringing from the impact with the iron bar. Some of the farm plots were partially flooded, and green stalks stuck out of the mud, drooping with fat grains. Rows of bushes with bright white berries rustled in the wind that carried the inferno ever closer.

  A squat semicircle of a structure was built into the side of a canyon and a stairway cut into the earth leading to the main entrance. Orozco and Standish waved to Hale from a waist-high stone wall around the shelter.