The Pirate Guild

by Steven J Shelley

  Allocation matters concluded for now, Charley and Kovacs headed back to the command post for further reports. She was surprised to find it was already noon. According to the map projections, the Imperial force was indeed on the move, threading the Hanov Pass with unexpected speed.

  “We have drones in the northwest tower,” Kovacs said. “Shall I send one to gather intel?”

  Charley nodded. She saw no reason to refuse drone surveillance. The Imperials were in the open.

  “There’s a long convoy of troop carriers,” Summer said from her post. “I’m picking up dense heat signatures.”

  Charley swallowed her anxiety. The battle was going to be an intimate, a face-to-face affair. Unusual in this day and age, but not unheard of. She made sure her targeting computer was operational.

  “I got several ships over the Hanov Range!” declared one of the analysts.

  Kovacs stepped up to the projection. “Stealth bombers. They couldn’t stay cloaked the entire journey. Our sub-range scanners got them.”

  “I thought they wanted this place intact,” Charley pointed out.

  “So did I,” admitted Kovacs. “Let’s go have a look.”

  Charley followed Kovacs up to the defensive rampart. Harry was training his optics on the approaching enemy. The refugees had already assumed a rigid defensive wall along the back of the rampart, rifles ready. The old pirate had trained them well.

  “Seven of them,” he said, passing the optics to Charley. She zeroed in on a cluster of grey, elongated ships. They were sleek and svelte, like huge falcons. Bomb canisters hung under the wings.

  “They can’t release until they’re on top of us,” Harry said.

  “Withdraw the refugees,” Kovacs said.

  “Inside!” Charley shouted. “Wait for my command!”

  “We could utilize the missile turrets,” Harry said. “They wouldn’t stand a chance. But we’d lose the element of surprise later.”

  “Let’s get inside,” Charley said in a tight voice. The pair retreated to the inner command post to watch the projections. The stealth bombers approached with chilling inevitability. Charley felt powerless as they loomed without so much as a single shot from the fort. It just didn’t feel right. The bombs were released to aching silence.

  “How strong is this base?” she asked Kovacs.

  “Strong enough, I think,” he replied. “The fort has withstood a number of attacks over the years. Some of the old warlords were fucking paranoid. Only the best shielding.”

  Charley hoped so. Ghost Fort didn’t have energy shields as such, relying on multi-threaded ebonite sheets. A lab alloy now rare in the galaxy, ebonite was an extremely dense material very difficult to break down. Sure enough, the deadly orbs impacted against the fort but the facility’s integrity seemed to hold. Curiously, there was little in the way of sound drifting from above.

  “Shouldn’t there be explosions at least?” Charley asked. The eerie silence continued. Realization dawned across Harry’s face.

  “Pepsis gas,” the old pirate said with disgust. “A known human pathogen. They’re making it impossible for us to go outside.”

  Charley watched the scanners as a green gas was released from each of the spent bombs, thickening into a dank cloud.

  “Bastards,” she breathed in disbelief.

  “They wanna stroll right up to the front door,” Harry said. “Their infantry will have air filters.”

  “What do we do?” Charley asked helplessly. Already the battle seemed unfair. But then she shrugged off her negative thoughts. War was unfair. It was up to her to adapt to the situation.

  “Gronko,” she said suddenly, turning to the renki. “Did you find air filters on your search for weapons?”

  “There might be a few boxes in the old barracks,” he said. “I’ll go check.”

  Charley turned to Kovacs. “If we can scrounge twenty filters I’ll take a crack force to meet them head on,” she said fiercely. “Stab the motherfuckers in the back.”

  She couldn’t contain her anger. It was time to make a stand against the so-called “Emperor Galactus”. Prove a point. The galaxy wasn’t just a plaything for this power-hungry maniac. It was a vibrant mosaic of people doing their best to survive. The last thing they needed was a tyrant steamrolling his way across entire systems. The Pirate Guild, no matter how small, were duty-bound to stand in the Emperor’s way.

  “I believe it,” Kovacs said with undisguised admiration. “I wouldn’t want to lose you though.”

  Harry was looking at the pair strangely when a breathless Gronko returned.

  “One hundred and forty-five air filters in the barracks,” he reported. Charley let out a sigh of relief - much better than she expected.

  “The old warlords were used to dirty tricks,” Kovacs commented. “Pepsis gas has been around for centuries.”

  “I need those boxes up here,” Charley instructed a clutch of refugees. “Kovacs, hand pick twenty of the best-credentialed fighters.”

  While Kovacs went about his work, Charley checked the scanners. The bombers had completed their run and were returning to the other side of the Hanov Range. Radar was picking up units pouring through the pass like water from a tap. The surveillance drone delivered clean images of armored troop carriers careening hell for leather across the snow. The feed dissolved to static as the drone was shot down.

  “Troop carriers alone,” Harry said. “We were right all along - they want this place intact.”

  Charley nodded, amazed at how quickly the trucks were crossing the plain.

  “Suspension fields,” Harry said. “They’re not rolling, they’re skidding.”

  “ETA twenty minutes,” Summer said. “Shall I activate the missile towers?”

  “Not yet,” Charley said instinctively. “I want them closer.”

  The armored transports crept closer.

  “If every transport can hold fourteen marines, we’re in for a hell of a fight,” Kovacs said.

  “Must be over five hundred men,” Harry said glumly.

  “Perfect,” Charley said, warming to the challenge, refusing to let the situation get to her. “I can’t wait to see them burn.”

  Her words must have struck a chord with the refugees, because several of them cheered. Embarrassed and humbled, Charley pretended to check her weapons. Harry laid an arm across her shoulders and whispered in her ear.

  “It’s your time to shine,” he murmured.

  Charley looked at the twenty best fighters Kovacs could muster. Most of them were more familiar with hunting rifles than plasma rifles. Tracking their prey rather than facing it head on. But they were protecting their homes, their families, and that was enough.

  “Up to the rampart,” she commanded. She wanted to survey the battlefield before she made her first move. The air filters were passed around. Charley adjusted hers so it didn’t interfere with her targeting computer.

  The pirate captain was glad to see the pepsis gas clearing as she climbed onto the rampart. From what she’d read, however, it wouldn’t be safe to breathe the air for several hours. With Molly’s help, Kovacs had been able to seal the major entrances and flush the toxic air that happened to drift inside.

  Harry emerged with the first contingent of riflemen. A hundred refugees arranged themselves along the rampart, crouched down behind the thick wall. There were gun slots at irregular intervals throughout, allowing for a variety of relatively protected attacks. Reserve riflemen waiting in the keep to replace those that fell in battle. Kovacs stood waiting in the command post, ready to coordinate the replenishment of men. It was important to maintain the illusion of never-ending manpower.

  Braking just shy of the frozen river, the first line of armored troop transports loomed through the sickly green gas. Enemy marines began pouring through yawning portals at the front of each vehicle. They were dressed in scarlet armor - the self-styled color of the new Imperial regime. Each carried a state-of-the-art pulse rifle. They packed more punch than a plasma r
ifle and were far more precise. As the enemy marines advanced in formation, Charley fought the urge to shrink into a tight ball. She told herself that it was the body armor that made the enemy appear taller than they actually were. To complete the intimidating effect, each Imperial marine wore a skull-like helmet with an air filter attached.

  Suppressing her fear, Charley waited until the first wave of marines were almost across the frozen river.

  “Open fire!” she yelled. And then over the com: “Summer, activate those missile towers now!”

  61

  The defending rifleman opened fire in an explosion of noise. A rain of plasma fizzed into the river. It didn’t matter if the bolts hit the marines or not - the thick ice was immediately pockmarked with holes. The Imperials looked at each other with uncertainty. Several crashed through the warming ice and disappeared under the crust. With the weight they were carrying, Charley doubted they’d be seen again.

  Summer said over the com.

  “Let it rain,” Charley said with menace.

  Ports opened on the towering missile turrets. Thunder rolled over all as thermal missiles soared towards the troop carriers. Charley watched through her gun hole. The missiles impacted mercilessly against the transports. They were heavily armored but couldn’t withstand multiple missile hits. Many were thrown into the air, riding shock waves thick with fire. Charley had to look away from the flare as several carriers rolled and skidded across the snow. A good portion sank pleasingly into the river, further disrupting the ice and taking marines with them. A small clutch remained at the edge of the river and were now lowering platforms that traversed the watercourse. Charley swore under her breath. It was a neat feature and one that would allow the marines to cross the frigid water. Already they were pouring across the platforms and clambering up the snow on the north bank. Soon they would be in a position to rush the main gate and work into the inner courtyard.

  It was time for Charley’s crack force. She looked at her troops, who’d shown great discipline in holding back from firing through the rampart. There was no real point in firing their blasters from this range anyway.

  “Defend the main gate!” she called out, rushing down to the keep. She led her team through the cavernous space, past the blinking command post filled with Kovacs’s people. Summer nodded at the pirate captain and engaged the door mechanism. Charley charged through the heavy double doors, her armed force close behind. She felt a twinge of anxiety as the keep doors shut behind them, but that was a sensible security measure. Her boots crunched over the snow as she and her chosen fighters sprinted across the courtyard to the gun holes at the towering main gate.

  Ghost Fort was well protected by walls of rock to the east and west. The rock extended to a choke point at the main gate. The enemy would need to run this gauntlet if it was to gain entry. More missiles screamed overhead, followed by ear-rupturing explosions to the south. The enemy transports were being pounded. If the opposing battle commander had any sense at all, he or she would have a contingency. The defenders would need to adapt when the moment came.

  For the moment, the choke point outside the gate was quiet. Charley allowed herself to hope that the enemy had been pushed back beyond the river when a number of scarlet figures appeared in the trench. Plasma fire rained from the rampart above, but the enemy now enjoyed the cover of the main gate. The missiles, of course, could only target the enemy out on the plain.

  “Fire!” Charley shouted above the din. She flicked her targeting visor down and fired at the points suggested in the glowing reticule. To her dismay, the plasma wasn’t enough to bring the enemy marines down. Several enemy infantry made it all the way to the gate, where they stood in between the gun ports. Not being able to see them was disconcerting to say the least. A chill went down Charley’s spine. She got the distinct impression these marines had a plan for the front gate and it would be breached within minutes.

  “Fall back to the flanking walls,” Charley commanded, and her men fanned out to the courtyard walls to either side of the main gate. A strange fizzing sound could be heard from the other side. Charley watched in amazement as a series of glowing points appeared in the thick metal. The Imperials were using some kind of corrosive fluid to eat through the gate. It was spreading in a pattern like a spider’s web, probably linked by limpet canisters.

  Harry said over the com.

  “Pick your targets,” Charley returned. “We’re switching to melee weapons.” She looked at her crack force. “Our blasters can’t penetrate their armor.”

  She holstered her blaster and drew her wickedly curved scimitar. It was high time she gave it a good run. The Imperials’ armor was thick, but segmented. Charley figured it was possible to slice into the weaker joints between the armor pieces. Her force dutifully holstered their weapons and drew their blades, which ranged from machetes to combat knives. Smallish weapons, but razor sharp. Charley hoped they would be effective against the hulking marines.

  The circular section of the main gate fell to the snow with a thud. Marines rushed over the glowing metal, pulse rifles poised. They were immediately assailed by plasma fire from Harry’s crew at the rampart. Once that flurry petered out, Charley moved in to engage at close quarters. Her heart thumping madly, she squared off against a tall marine. He raised his gun and Charley brushed the barrel aside with her sword. The marines weren’t prepared for a melee - their pulse rifles had long barrels that could be turned by swift melee strikes. Charley lashed out with the scimitar and missed, hitting the marine on the breast. The sword was pushed straight into the softer join under the breast piece and she felt the material yield.

  Encouraged, Charley stayed close to the marine so he couldn’t bring his gun to bear. Ducking the gun barrel, she struck at the man’s hip and found another join. This time the sword sank into soft flesh. She was surprised at how far the razor-sharp, finely balanced sword traveled. Certainly far enough to slice through organs. The marine stood in shock for a moment before falling to the snow. Charley had to time to absorb the kill before she was faced with a second marine. This time she leapt forward before the man could fire, swinging the scimitar in a low slash at his legs. The blade struck the sweet spot between two plates and sank through the fibrous material there.

  The strike made the marine hesitate. In a melee battle, that was fatal. Charley swung at his neck, sliding into the join under the fearsome scarlet helmet. The vicious blow almost severed the marine’s head. Charley breathed deeply and took a moment to survey the battle. It ran poorly for the defenders. Charley’s crack battalion didn’t have melee weapons as fine as hers, and thus couldn’t penetrate the weak points in the marines’ armor. Several of her comrades already lay on the ground, their bodies mangled by close-range pulse blasts.

  Charley and the survivors were forced to back towards the inner keep. That played into the hands of the marines, who allowed space to open up between the two groups. Charley realized her people were about to be slaughtered by what was effectively a firing squad. The keep doors were thrown open and Gronko came storming out with his heavy flak gun. Roaring a bone-chilling war cry, the big renki stepped forward in arrogant fury, spraying the marines with his high-caliber weapon. The piece delivered armor-cracking pellets at very high speed, devastating the enemy ranks. Scarlet marines were thrown back against the wall, arms and legs flailing in the face of such a furious onslaught. Enemy reinforcements poured through the front gate, but Gronko was now surrounded by a regiment of kneeling rifleman. Harry had split his forces wisely, sending Charley a detachment to drive the attackers from the courtyard.

  The ploy worked. Buoyed by the support, Charley and her team flanked the shell-shocked marines and pushing them back through the gate and down the choke point. Charley was running full pelt when the front gates shut in front of her. Furious, she looked back at the keep. Harry was herding his regiment into the keep.
r />   “We decimated their forces, Charley!” he yelled. “It’s time to withdraw and consolidate our forces.”

  Even in the heat of battle Charley saw the sense of that. She barked orders to her team, motioning that they should follow Harry. A team of scroungers armed with sheets of metal and blow torches passed her on the way back. Kovacs had organized a makeshift repair to the front gate. The man was nothing if not efficient.

  Charley was the last to enter the keep. The doors slammed shut behind her as she made her way down the steps. The command post was a blur of activity as Kovacs’s people frantically checked their scanners.

  “Release two more drones,” Kovacs was saying. “One over the retreating force, one further south.”

  Summer saluted and got to work. Charley could hear the whoosh of missiles, no doubt relentlessly harassing the retreating marines. Still throbbing with adrenalin, Charley headed through a throng of panting rifleman. The mood was vibrant and joyous. She still couldn’t quite believe they’d actually driven off the Imperials! Harry found her in the crowd and wrapped her in his arms, spinning her wildly.

  “We did it!” he exclaimed, looking forty years younger. “That was one of the best actions I’ve seen. You fought like a banshee!”

  Charley blushed. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” she said truthfully. “You arrived at just the right time.”

  “The bastards expected to just waltz in here.”

  “They won’t make the same mistake twice,” Charley said soberly. “They’ll come back twice as hard.”

  62

  “All is not lost,” Harry said cryptically, taking Charley’s hand and leading her into the command post. He dragged over a terrain projection for Charley to scrutinize. It was a drone’s view of Ottova, the town beyond the Hanov Range. Emperor Galactus had set his warship down in the abandoned spaceport to the southwest of town. A defensive perimeter had been erected around the port facility. Charley could see the cruiser that had caused so much trouble sitting alongside the much larger ship. The port was a hive of activity, with troop transports entering from the south and east.