Press The Line: Ganog Wars Book 3

by Chris Fox

  "You possess no fleet to contribute to this war?" Takkar demanded, feeling his fur darken.

  "That's correct."

  "And also irrelevant," Zakanna said, addressing the group. "We work with what we have. Fizgig has agreed to serve Takkar, and Takkar has agreed to our terms. We have a fleet leader. Now, we can take the next step."

  Takkar found himself increasingly impressed with the young empress. She wasn't nearly the flighty Adept she projected herself to be. There were undiscovered depths there--meaning she was probably a good deal more dangerous than he'd originally assumed.

  "Very well," Takkar said, "then let us begin by assessing the situation and coming up with a plan." He stared around the table, meeting every pair of eyes. "We all know how dire our predicament, but only one part of it matters: Imperalis. No other battle is of consequence. Without Imperalis, we cannot repair or adequately resupply. If we are to have any hope of victory, we must wrest back the capital regardless of the cost. That world is held by the Kthul, backed by these Void Wraith. I understand the former, but not the latter. How can we overcome the Void Wraith? We must bypass them to reach the beacon. And, if I understand correctly, it is with that beacon that they are controlled."

  "You understand correctly," Fizgig said. "The Void Wraith are cybernetic lifeforms. The nervous system and brain of a living entity are inserted into an artificial body, not unlike Khar's. All Void Wraith are designed with a central kill switch and a universal override. The Gorthians--what you call the Nameless Ones--designed the Void Wraith well. Yet in this instance that weakness greatly benefits us. Retake this beacon, and we can unleash the Void Wraith upon the Kthul."

  "Utfa will have many defenses in place," Zakanna cautioned. She shook her head slowly. "At the very least, he has the orbital cannon used to cripple the Nyar fleet. Our fleet cannot survive that kind of firepower."

  "The Omega Judicators are truly devastating in their own right," Khar added. "Their firepower added to the cannon will destroy any fleet in orbit long before they can ground enough troops to take the spire."

  "How do your people know so much about these...Omegas?" It seemed awfully convenient that they had shown up with all the answers just as the answers were needed.

  "Our people captured many Harvesters during the war with the Void Wraith," Khar explained. The impudence in that one's gaze nearly drove Takkar to violence, allies or no. "They contained cores, some dating back to the original Primo empire. One of those cores contained the schematics for the Void Wraith that were used in the original Eradication, over fifty thousand years ago. Those included the plans for Omegas, though at that time none had been built."

  "So why not build one now?" T'kon asked.

  Fizgig shook her head sadly. "We have the schematics used to create them, but the manufacturing facilities needed to create an Omega would require a generation to build. The Omega itself would take even longer. The ones they are using must have taken a century or more to construct."

  "Which brings us back to where we started," Zakanna added, seizing control of the conversation once more. "We must find a way to destroy the beacon, but orbital bombardment will fail. The Omegas will see to that. If orbital bombardment isn't possible, what do we do?"

  "So, Mighty Fizgig, how would you solve this problem? Advise me." Takkar did not bother to hide his scorn. She'd won twice, but in both case there were extenuating circumstances. Had the empress allowed him to fully repair his fleet, Atreas would have been an altogether different battle.

  "For now, we can do little." Fizgig folded her arms and watched him with those slitted, golden eyes. "We need more information on the beacon, and knowledge of the defenders guarding Imperalis."

  T'kon spoke up. "We cannot afford to delay our assault. We have no way to repair, and our opponent does. The Kthul are no doubt already searching for us. There's every likelihood that a techsmith on one of our vessels has already transmitted our location." He shook his head. "I do not wish to rush into combat, but time works against us."

  "The Kthul do not perceive us as the gravest threat," Fizgig countered. "When the Gorthians were finally ready to reveal themselves, they attacked the greatest threat swiftly and without mercy. That threat is the Nyar Clan. The Gorthians know it. They will come for the Nyar home world, and they will eradicate it. This is why I have dispatched Nolan--to prepare the Nyar. We have at least a little while before the Kthul can turn their attention to us, and we should spend that time wisely. I have never been to your capital, and so cannot comment on breaching its defenses. So I turn to your expertise, Takkar. How would you suggest we defeat them?"

  Takkar's fur became a wan yellow, his frustration at his own incompetence showing. "I do not know."

  6

  REBUFFED

  The disk zoomed to a halt, depositing Nolan and Yulo at one of the highest rings in the spire. Nolan tensed as he and the Adept approached the black-armored Ganog with the long spear over his shoulder. He rose to attention as they approached, and Nolan forced himself to relax.

  "I am Nolan of the Coalition, slayer of Krekon," he intoned, as Yulo had instructed him. "I petition for entry to the spire."

  "Your petition is refused," the Ganog warrior snarled, without hesitation. He loomed over Nolan, but Nolan refused to back down. The Ganog seemed amused. "Now scurry away, before you make me angry enough to squash you. Rodent."

  Nolan ignited his plasma blade, and shifted into a combat stance. "You're welcome to try." He was fairly certain that he could kill the Ganog before he shifted into his great form. The time it took to do that would make his opponent vulnerable. Right now, they were on more or less equal terms.

  "Please, reconsider," Yulo said, stepping smoothly in front of Nolan. "All we wish is a brief audience, and you have my word that the matter is of the gravest importance."

  "I will not reconsider--not even for you, old man." The warrior glared down at Nolan contemptuously. "You are fortunate the master is with you, or I'd crush you to jelly. Now begone from my sight."

  Nolan looked to Yulo, raising an eyebrow. Yulo shook his head. Nolan reluctantly extinguished his plasma blade, then turned on his heel and stalked back toward the transport disk they'd arrived on.

  Yulo joined him a moment later.

  "Why didn't you let me challenge him?" Nolan asked, staring at the defiant guard as the disk whizzed into the air. It dropped quickly, moving toward the depths of the spire.

  "Because it wouldn't have resolved anything." Yulo eyed Nolan sidelong. "If you had bested him he would have taken us to his superior, whom you'd also need to challenge. How many challenges are you prepared for?"

  "Point taken." Nolan steadied himself as the disk zoomed past another island. They were nearing the level where they'd boarded. "There has to be a better way."

  "And there is." Yulo hopped from the disk, landing in a crouch on the spire's deck.

  Nolan leapt off, landing next to him.

  "If you wish to gain audience," Yulo said, "you must find someone who can grant it. Someone who will take you directly to the clan leader."

  "I don't know any Nyar." Nolan stalked back through the golden sigils, into the too-bright sunlight. His sunglasses automatically darkened, affording a better view of the spectacular array of ships docked around the spire. None were as impressive as the Demetrius. The battleship was still docked, its Theta cannons bristling on all sides, in between the smaller particle cannons. A truly massive Theta cannon was slung under the ship's belly, where the gauss cannon had been aboard the UFC Johnston.

  Three fighter ports lined each side, sheltered under stubby wings that were nothing but masses of dense tritanium. She was a true warship, able to go toe-to-toe with a Primo carrier--and maybe even a Ganog dreadnought.

  "You may not know any Nyar, but I can think of one who knows you. Or of you, at the very least." Yulo ambled toward the battleship, and Nolan matched his pace. "Kokar is the son of the clan leader. He was on Imperalis the day Utfa attacked us. That battle cost his fa
mily greatly, and the blame will be placed on Kokar."

  "So you're suggesting we get the help of a disgraced noble?" Nolan asked, more than a little skeptical. "Will his father even listen to him?"

  "It doesn't matter if the father will listen," Yulo pointed out, "so long as the son can secure us an audience."

  "That shouldn't be too hard," Nolan mused. "I saw how desperate Takkar was after losing face, and we might be able to offer Kokar a way back into his father's good graces."

  "Yes, I'd considered the same ploy. I believe we can attract Kokar's notice."

  "How do you suggest we do that?" Nolan asked, ducking through the outer hatch of the Demetrius.

  "If I am correct, we already have. Word will spread quickly that an emissary from a foreign battleship was turned away. I recommend patience. Wait, and Kokar will come to us."

  7

  KOKAR

  Kokar squeezed his bulk up the corridor of the strange ship. The ceiling was a bit too low, the corridor a bit too narrow. It was confining, completely unlike the interior of a Ganog vessel. Even the Saurians allowed enough room to move.

  He ducked under another narrow bulkhead and passed into a sizable cargo bay. It gleamed under the bright lights above--no sign of dirt, debris, or even rust. This place was immaculately kept, as were the mighty war machines in each of the stalls.

  "Their ka'tok do an impressive job," Hruk muttered, walking the customary three steps behind Kokar. The old man's hand never left the hilt of his chopping sword. "Their machines are in excellent repair."

  "It is impressive, and I'm sure it was no accident that our hosts chose this place to welcome us," Kokar countered. He already disliked these aliens, and likely always would. He raised two fingers to touch the scar on his right cheek. At least the Tigris known as Khar was not among them.

  "Kokar," a clear voice rang out, from the far side of the hangar. It came from a human wearing a standard set of their environmental armor. That armor didn't gleam. It bore scratches and dents. It was the first proof any of these people had seen battle. "My name is Captain Nolan. Welcome to the Demetrius. What can I do for you?"

  Kokar narrowed his eyes, and made no move to keep the red from his fur. "I do not play games, Captain. Nor should you. You know why I am here."

  "Fair enough." The human shrugged. He seemed unconcerned by Kokar, confident he could deal with the threat. Kokar found that curious. Very few aliens dismissed a Ganog elite. "I'm never really sure. T'kon did tell me you'd be blunt."

  "You're an ally of T'kon? You keep strange company, Captain." Kokar spat on the deck. "You sought entry to the royal island. Why?"

  "I wanted to speak to your father about the possibility of an alliance. You know why." The human took a step closer, staring defiantly up at Kokar. "You saw what happened on Imperalis. You know what's coming."

  "I do, but my voice is drowned out by the wind of war." Kokar shook his head, his fur darkening. "They will not listen. You must understand--to my father, this is the final war. The Nameless Ones are returning, and he stands ready to meet them in glorious battle. It's what we were bred for, what the Nyar have always stood for. We oppose the Nameless Ones, shouting defiantly with our final breath."

  "And making an alliance with the Coalition threatens that somehow? We're not trying to take away your war. We're trying to make sure a few of us survive it." The leaned against the wall, relaxing slightly. "You need to make them see that, before they wipe this world off the map. I've dealt with the Gorthians. Right now the Nyar are the biggest threat to their plans, and they react very predictably to threats. They're going to come at this world fast and hard. If we don't stand together, everyone is going to die."

  "Human, I do not appreciate your tone, though I admire your fire," Kokar murmured. He raised a hand to stay Hruk's advance, aware of the old man sliding his blade from its scabbard. "It is not me that you need to convince. I understand the threat we face. I saw the Void Wraith, saw their strange blue planetstriders. I have heard rumors that your people have encountered these Void Wraith. Is there any truth to this?"

  "We've not only encountered them--we've beaten them. Those victories were costly until we learned their weaknesses. I'm happy to share those weaknesses with you. We can have full schematics for all known Void Wraith units transmitted before you leave the Demetrius." The human appeared relaxed, but mention of the war brought the fire back to his eyes. His war had become personal, Kokar was sure of it. "All I'm asking in return is an audience with your father."

  "I will arrange that audience, human," Kokar said. "I will even lend my weight to your arguments. Yet I must be clear--that weight is not great. I am blamed for the death of my people on Imperalis, for the loss of two full dreadnoughts. My father will not listen. The best you can hope for is that he will review the data you've brought. He will never ally with this Coalition. He wouldn't even ally with the other Ganog clans, and only pays lip service to the Yog. My father is a proud man, and quick to anger."

  "Yet he is also honorable," Yulo called, rising to his feet and moving to join them. His fur was snowy white, the hallmark of a master Adept. Kokar eyed him suspiciously. Yog couldn't be trusted--especially their Adepts. "Your father may listen, though he will not much like what we have to say. Let us allow him to judge the worth of our words."

  "Very well. Prepare yourselves. I will arrange an audience after dinner, when my father is at his ease. Be warned, human. Do not bristle at my father as you did at me, or he will tear your spine from your back and keep your skull as a warning to others."

  Kokar hoped he wasn't understating the matter, and that the human didn't assume he was speaking in hyperbole. He strongly desired the same things this Coalition did. If his people were to survive they'd need the help--though he strongly doubted his father would see it that way.

  8

  GRAK

  The stealth belt gave a satisfying clunk as it magnetically sealed to Nolan's armor. The sound was duplicated all around him as the rest of the squad secured their own belts. Nolan picked up his rifle from its perch against the bulkhead.

  "All right people, here's the deal. We're walking into what could be an enemy stronghold. Our mission is to befriend them, but if they get hostile we bug out. Be ready for anything." Nolan keyed the exit sequence on the airlock, and waited as the mechanism whirred. The door slid away, revealing the spire's outer ring.

  Nolan walked boldly toward the arched doorway with the sigils, and the rest of the squad fanned out behind him. Burke had offered to accompany him, too, but Nolan thought bringing that much firepower might be taken as a threat.

  Besides, he wanted Burke to be able to bail them out with mechs, if it came to that.

  "So we're here as scarecrows, basically?" Annie drawled. She drew herself up to her full height, then snapped her helmet into place, obscuring her face.

  "That's the plan," Hannan said, and caught Nolan's eye. "We're an honor guard for Yulo and the captain. We don't say or do a damned thing, unless they get hostile. Then it's stealth and bug out while we wait for the cavalry."

  "Can you tell me anything else about how to approach this?" Nolan asked, stepping through the archway into the inner spire. Annie and Hannan trailed behind him and Yulo, cradling their particle rifles.

  "I'm afraid not," Yulo admitted, walking gracefully next to Nolan. "I have no idea what the Nyar are expecting of us. They were rarely at court, and keep largely to themselves. Frankly, they look down on not only my clan but all other clans."

  "Lovely," Nolan muttered. He made immediately for one of the transport disks. Flying through the air with no handrails was still a little terrifying, and he wondered idly how many people tumbled to their deaths each year.

  The rest of the squad stepped atop the same disk, which left only a foot between him and the edge. He bent his knees as the disk zoomed into the air, making its way up into the blackness. This place was much less well lit than the Imperial spire had been.

  His stomach lurched as the disk
accelerated, the ring on which they'd entered receding below them. The disk carried them high into the spire, finally slowing as it neared a wide, foreboding island. Most of the island was covered by a squat, ugly stone building.

  Nolan spotted guards at most of the narrow windows, each wielding a Ganog pulse rifle. These people were ready for war as a matter of daily course.

  The disk stopped at the island's edge, and Nolan hopped off. Yulo landed nimbly beside him, while Hannan and Annie stood a few meters away.

  "I guess we just go inside." Nolan started toward the building, walking through a wide doorway.

  Inside, a pair of guards eyed him balefully. They wore midnight black armor, broken only by painted sigils on their right shoulders. Each held a long spear with a wicked barb at the end that gleamed with something wet. Poison, maybe.

  Neither guard said anything, nor did they move to bar Nolan's way. He shrugged and proceeded up the short hallway. It emptied into a large auditorium with ringed seats like the classrooms back at the academy.

  Inside, dozens of Ganog sat in small groups. Most cradled horns of a sweet-smelling drink, but all were alert enough to turn in his direction as he entered.

  "Man," he said. "I thought Alpha Company was hostile. These guys look like they want to tear me apart on the spot."

  "Stand proud, Captain," Yulo said, straightening next to him. "Lead us down to the dais, where Grak awaits us."

  Nolan started down a set of wide stairs, threading past rows of Ganog as he approached the central dais. Standing atop it was a weathered Ganog in scored armor. The hilt of a massive axe jutted over one shoulder, and a scar ran from his forehead to his chin. His fur was soft brown with whorls of black.