Bracken’s voice came over the comms. “There are no contacts spotted at the Institute. Let’s make this fast.”
In his head, Tag heard the words she didn’t say. Let’s make this fast so no more Mechanics have to die.
Every second the battle raged on in space meant another free Mechanic lost. Another death closer to the extinction of Bracken and Coren’s species. They leveled out their flight path as they rushed through the Meck’ara sky, immense heat from atmospheric friction making their hulls red.
Snow-peaked mountains rose above valleys and hills covered in verdant vegetation. It was almost impossible to see the Mechanic cities integrated into the rolling panorama of unbridled nature. Tag was only able to locate the cities and towns dispersed between the forests and plains and rivers because their positions were marked on his holomap. He felt both awe and surprise at the way the Mechanics had carefully laid out their civilization so as not to interfere with the planet. Based on everything he knew about them, he had expected the planet to be as bleak as their ships, mined and ravaged for every spare resource and decorated with brutalist architecture. He didn’t expect the picturesque landscape he saw now, and the beauty of the planet made it even clearer why the free Mechanics wanted to take this place back. For a moment, Tag wondered if this was what Earth had once looked like. He could imagine humans fighting as fiercely, sacrificing themselves, to protect their home world just as the Mechanics had done.
“We are approaching the Institute!” Alpha said. “Still no contacts.”
Sofia banked the Argo over the sprawling facility, and they started their descent. Tag looked up through the viewscreen, gazing at the glow and spark of distant volleys being traded between the Drone-Mechs and the free Mechanics. If they could just hold out a little longer, this would soon be over. They were so close. So close to ending this madness.
Sofia began lowering the Argo, and the Stalwart descended beside them. Then red dots suddenly glared across the holomap. Tag’s heart threw itself against his rib cage, and he gazed frantically at the viewscreen.
“What in the three hells?” he yelled. “I thought you said no contacts.”
“That is correct, Captain,” Alpha said. “I do not understand—”
“Stealth ships!” Coren yelled.
The air crackled around them, distorted slightly by the mostly hidden silhouettes of the Drone-Mech stealth ships. Without a free Mechanic fleet to protect them, the ships unleashed a furious barrage of rounds into the Argo and the Stalwart. There was little they could do to protect themselves, although Sofia and Coren toiled relentlessly at their stations. The energy shields flickered, absorbing round after round. Then they disappeared.
“Shields down, Captain!” Alpha yelled.
Something slammed into the ship. The bridge quaked, and alarms shrieked, stabbing Tag’s eardrums. His restraints dug into his suit, biting into his shoulders, and his head shook inside his helmet. Red began to creep into his vision, along with a throbbing pain.
“Main impellers down!” Alpha said. “Fusion reactors are going into overload.”
If they kept flying, the Argo would soon meet the same plasma-filled fate as the Fury, Berserker, and Constitution.
“Shut the impellers and reactors down,” Tag commanded. “Sofia, take us down for a hard landing.”
There was no time for replies. The ground rushed up to meet them, tree branches and vines waving lazily in the wind as if they were unaware of the fiery scene about to unfold. No matter how the battle in space turned out, the Argo wasn’t going to be getting off this planet anytime soon, and he wasn’t looking forward to navigating the Drone-Mech–filled lands on foot if they failed now. His jaw clenched as they broke past the first layer of the forest canopy.
“Brace for impact!” Tag yelled.
His world turned into a hell of spraying mud and dirt, bursting trees, and fingers of hungry fire. Screeching alarms couldn’t drown out the screams of a crew member, someone, yelling through the comms. Momentum carried the ship as the vessel plowed through the ground, leaving a violent gouge on the planet’s surface. Finally the Argo came to rest, and for a moment, Tag thought that was it. They had survived, and now they would carry on.
Then the ship shuddered with the beat of incoming rounds. The stealth ships hadn’t let them go.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Tag undid his restraints, rushing to Alpha, who was nearest him.
“Alpha! Alpha!”
She held the sides of her head with her fingers, metal scraping against metal. “My head. I feel so disoriented.”
“Hold yourself together. We’ve got to get off the ship.”
Coren and Sofia were already undoing their restraints and stumbling out of their crash couches. The ring of pulsefire pounding against the hull resonated through the bridge in an unending cacophony.
“Bull,” Tag said. “Do you copy?”
“I hear you, Captain.”
“Gather up all the guns you can,” he said. The marines were closer to the armory, and Tag wasn’t sure he had time to make a run to pick up weapons. Then a dark realization dripped over him. “And grab Gorenado.”
“He’s still in one of those med bay crash couches!” Sumo replied back over the comms.
“And he’ll never leave it alive if we don’t get him out of there now!” Tag said. “He’ll be good enough to walk. It’ll hurt like hell, but we can’t leave him behind.”
“Copy,” Bull said.
“Everyone, on me!” Tag said. The bridge crew fell in line as more energy rounds raked the Argo. Klaxons still wailed, and a storm of warnings declaring various hull breaches flashed on the holoscreen at Tag’s station. He ignored the discord and plunged down the corridor toward the cargo bay with his crew in tow. The bay hatch opened before them, leading them to another scene of disarray. A fire burned in one corner, the repair bots now shrapnel from a stray pulse round fired by one of the stealth ships. Sunlight filtered in through holes across the bay, and black singe marks marred the bulkheads. The air car was crushed under a section of alloy hull that was bent inward.
“Looks like we’re walking,” Sofia said.
The screech of grinding and shearing metal echoed through the cargo bay, and blue pulsefire ripped into the stacked remains of their cargo. The crew ducked, as if that would save them from a stray fusillade of fire. Another hatch opened to the bay. Bull and the marines came in, bristling with weapons. He tossed a mini-Gauss rifle, and Tag caught it. The others took the weapons the marines offered them. Gorenado had an arm around Lonestar. His bulk made even her muscular form appear like that of a child, but she made no outward sign of being distressed by his weight.
“Captain,” she said in greeting.
“Gorenado, we’re going to need to make a run for it. Can you handle that?” Tag asked.
“Do I got a choice?”
“Not really.”
“Then sure, I can handle it.”
Tag led the group to one of the exterior bay hatches, and he punched the terminal. The doors hissed open, letting in a flood of sunlight tinged green by the leaf canopy.
“Bracken, we’re headed your direction. You got working vehicles?” Tag asked over the comms.
“We do,” Bracken said. “Although the Stalwart will not be flying anywhere anytime soon.”
“The Argo’s no better.”
Tag wound through the woods, leaping over fallen trees and flitting between the foliage. Maybe it was the threat of certain death, or maybe Bull had gotten over his agoraphobia, but Tag noticed the sergeant had no issues charging along with the rest of the group. They ducked under huge leaves and skirted past enormous insects clambering up trees. Tag eyed them as they went.
“They aren’t dangerous,” Coren said, allaying his fears. “The only things to watch out for are those ships.”
The intermittent whine and roar of the stealth ships rushing overhead, desperately searching for survivors, plagued them as they made their way toward the
Stalwart. Tag didn’t have to look at his wrist terminal to navigate. A trail of thick black smoke drifted into the sky from the Stalwart’s crash site.
Suddenly the snap of breaking tree branches and crunching leaves caused him to twist. With his rifle shouldered, he aimed at an approaching phalanx of vehicles.
“It’s us, Captain Brewer,” Bracken’s voice rang over the comms.
Tag lowered his weapon. A Mechanic waved an arm toward a large opening hatch in the transport’s side and beckoned them in. The group fell in, all too glad to be in the protection of the armored personnel carrier. Lonestar helped Gorenado onto one of the empty seats. He grimaced as he sat, holding the healed-over spot that had once been a hole through his chest.
Bracken turned to Tag from one of the front seats. “I am happy to see you all made it without any casualties.” Her gaze lingered accusingly on Lonestar for a moment before it flickered back to Tag.
“How did you fare?” Tag asked.
“We lost one,” she replied, “but we are fortunate that is all. Her death will not prevent us from succeeding at the Institute.”
The transport wove between the massive tree trunks and over the rolling earth. They stuck to the cover of the forest, and Bracken’s forces spread out as they made their way to the Institute. Every time one of the stealth ships blew past overhead, Tag felt his stomach twist, his fingers tightening around his rifle, and he peered out the windows nervously, waiting for pulsefire to rain through the leaves.
Bracken opened a comm line with Forcant, patching Tag in as well. “Admiral Martix, we are approaching the Institute. Once we’re there, we’ll need about ten minutes to complete the algorithm integration with the grav-wave generator.”
“Ten minutes may not be soon enough,” Forcant said, his voice wavering in trepidation. “We are taking heavy losses. We’ve managed to subdue only one of their dreadnoughts, and the shields on most of our remaining ships are approaching single-digit power readings.”
“By the machines,” Bracken said, “hold out a little longer, and I swear to you we will succeed.”
“Even if we cannot,” Forcant said, “you still have a chance to succeed. Do not squander it. Captain Bracken, Captain Brewer, the future of our people resides with you now.”
Pressure built in Tag with the intense ferocity of a meteor burning into the atmosphere. The stealth ships continued to screech overhead, firing randomly down into the forest, razing all the foliage that covered Bracken’s forces. Apprehension tightened his muscles and wrapped its paralyzing grip around his chest. An open plain separated them from the Institute. No more hiding from the Drone-Mechs. Nothing to shield them from their superior firepower. Just a bit of luck, hope, and speed.
Tag feared that wouldn’t be enough. The first free Mechanic vehicle burst from the tree cover, charging straight for the Institute. The hovering stealth ships unleashed a barrage of azure rounds that lanced into the earth, kicking up grass and tearing into the air car. The vehicle burst into a ball of fire, and Mechanics ran from the debilitated vehicle. More fire from the stealth ships cut into their fleeing ranks.
“Gods be damned!” Bull yelled. He shouldered a rocket launcher, and Lonestar followed his lead, a glimmer of wild anger sparking in her eyes. “Let me at those assholes!”
“No,” Tag said. “You’re going to get slaughtered.”
“What?” Bracken yelled. “The best thing we can do is make this fast.”
Before Tag could reply, several more ships burst through the atmosphere and accelerated toward the Institute. Tag’s stomach dropped. Each looked like the swanlike sapphire ship they had seen at Herandion. He recalled the way the ship seemed to have swallowed a rocket that should have torn it apart. Six of those ships now tore across the plain. Any semblance of a plan to get to the Institute now seemed worthless. Getting past the stealth ships was one thing, but these strange ships were another matter entirely.
They were done for.
CHAPTER FIFTY
“Captain Brewer,” a voice spoke through his wrist terminal. It sounded as though whoever was calling him was speaking through water. A face appeared on his terminal as well. It looked gelatinous. Translucent. Tag felt a pang of repulsion staring at the strange creature with its entire anatomy visible behind its misshapen, clear outer layer. Things that looked like blood vessels and nerve clusters were bunched around what might have been three eyes and an opening that Tag assumed was a mouth.
“What...what do you want?” Tag asked apprehensively.
“We want you to succeed,” the voice responded. “I am Jaroon Ka’ Shorloff of the Melarrey people. Our first encounter was at Herandion. There’s not much time to explain, but we need your grav-wave-generator plan to work.”
“You’re going to help us?” Tag asked. He hardly trusted these jellyfish-like aliens and their enigmatic, transmuting ships.
“We are,” Jaroon replied. One of the Melarrey ships morphed slightly so two ports showed in its side. A jet of strange-looking bubbles exploded from the opening. The bubbles encompassed one of the Drone-Mech stealth ships, slowly conglomerating until the entire ship was covered. It looked like a child’s plaything until the bubbles expanded, crushing the ship between them. Plasma and shrapnel burst throughout the sky as the other Melarrey ships fired and spewed more of the spherical ordnance. The strange bubble weaponry would be almost comical if it weren’t so deadly.
Stealth ships and Melarrey vessels clashed with volatile fury. Explosive shockwaves from both sides shook the ground, serving only to remind Tag how weak the armored personnel carrier was. Even with the Melarreys’ surprise and still-uncertain assistance, Tag could see the battle hadn’t completely turned in their favor. They only had a moment to take advantage of the confusion.
“Move! Now!” Tag said.
Bracken didn’t bother responding and instead commanded all her vehicles across the plain at once. Air cars bobbed over low hills, and APCs tore over the open landscape, leaving a tide of crushed grass in their wake. One stealth ship turned its attention to the free Mechanics and lobbed explosive and pulse rounds into the Mechanics’ ranks. Another air car fell apart in a furious conflagration that enveloped the dry grass of the plain. The wildfire licked into the air, churning up plumes of black smoke, as another air car passed and was cut to pieces by Drone-Mech weapons.
As they advanced on the Institute, trying to escape the maelstrom, a multitude of questions rattled in Tag’s mind. He wanted to know why the Melarrey were here. How they had gotten here. Why they had approached them at Herandion. But no question was more important right now than whether they would succeed.
Bracken seemed to be similarly conflicted, and she activated their comm line to Forcant. “The previously unidentified Sapphires are aiding our assault on the Institute. They claim to be the Melarrey, but we are still uncertain that their intentions are purely benevolent. Please remain cautious regardless of our success down here.”
“Copy,” Forcant said. Over the holoscreen, red lights flashed over the gray-tinged fur on his face. He appeared shaken and disheveled. “The Melarrey have lent their assistance to us up here, as well. Their efforts may be just as suicidal as ours. The Drone-Mechs still outnumber us ten to one.”
The number was almost staggering, and it weighed heavily on Tag’s mind as they bounced across the plain. Any distraction now would only exacerbate the casualties out there if they didn’t succeed at the Institute. He tried to push those thoughts from his head, but he couldn’t ignore the overhead explosions burning brightly like fireworks in space, reminding him of the destruction just beyond the planet’s atmosphere.
Soil, grass, and trees geysered around them, bringing Tag’s focus back to the ground. Drone-Mech fire blasted from all sides, with the occasional return volley from the Melarrey swooshing overhead in wide arcs. Another Mechanic air car was leveled in a blast of azure pulsefire. Tag couldn’t even see where the rounds had come from. Smoke hung like acrid fog from the fire scorching through
the landscape.
Bull had one hand wrapped around a bar to steady himself and the other holding onto his rifle. He gaped, transfixed, through the windshield of the APC. The vehicle accelerated over the cratered terrain as the Institute loomed before them. Another round ricocheted over the APC, almost knocking it off its path. A singed hole formed in the roof, and still Bull stared straight ahead, the target ever in his focus.
As if he could feel Tag staring at him, he said, “We’re going to pummel some xeno ass, Captain.” Then he cast a sideways glance at Coren. “The bad kind of xeno, that is.”
The APC hit a rut formed by one of the Drone-Mech barrages. It launched several meters into the air before coming back down, with a jarring scrape tearing at the undercarriage.
“Yeehaw!” Lonestar said.
“We’re fifty meters to the target!” the Mechanic driver yelled.
Sharick turned to his soldiers. “Prepare for—”
An intense, fiery light cut into Tag’s retinas before his EVA suit’s automatically adjusting visor could compensate. He felt himself flung forward, and he landed against something soft. His eardrums rang with a fierce howl, and he grasped at the sides of his helmet, desperate to throw his hands over his ears. His tailbone throbbed, and a stabbing pain burst through his left elbow. Blinking to clear the blinding white in his vision, he struggled against the dizziness that made him want to give up, to succumb to gravity and let the planet swallow him. Rallying, he pushed himself up, and a glint of metal caught his eyes. He crawled toward it.
A rifle. He picked the weapon up and scanned his surroundings, desperate to see through his disorientation. Smoke wafted up in gray columns all around him as if he were in the midst of some ephemeral, hellish temple. Fragments of the APC lay in melted chunks. Between the lumps of alloy jutting from the ground like the teeth of a giant ice god, Tag spotted the bodies of the Mechanic crew. His heart beat in rhythm with the pounding of gunfire still battering the surviving vehicles.
Edge of War (The Eternal Frontier Book 2) Page 25