Press The Line: Ganog Wars Book 3

by Chris Fox

  "I have an idea about that." Khar gave a toothy grin. "I know someone--you'd call them a ka'tok--that can get us to the docking bay without being seen. He dwells in the underbelly of the ship, along the hull. If we can reach him, we have a chance."

  12

  AZATOK

  Takkar unlimbered his axe and took an experimental swing. It hummed through the air, drawing a grim smile from him. The techsmith had already fled, leaving him alone with Fizgig. He glanced at the Tigris and was appalled to find her licking her own fur. It was disgusting.

  Was she...bathing? With saliva?

  "Are you not going to ready yourself for battle?" Takkar demanded, looming over her. Despite recognizing her skill, he'd never trust or like her.

  "I am ready for battle," Fizgig said, not looking at him. She began chewing on her shoulder, then licked the fur around it several times and looked up at him with those odd, slitted eyes. "What is it you feel I should be doing, exactly? You can hear the sounds of battle as well as I. They're growing closer, and your forces are losing. We will be overwhelmed, and in all likelihood killed."

  "You face your death calmly enough," Takkar allowed, but grudgingly. "I do not know who leads them, but there is a chance that leader will accept my challenge. If I defeat them, they may cede me the ship, or at the very least grant our freedom."

  Fizgig eyed Takkar critically, and he was very conscious of the fat that had accumulated around his midsection, bulging his armor outward. But he stood proudly, still a warrior. His edge had dulled, but he would turn his appearance to his advantage. Whoever he faced would underestimate him, assuming they faced a weak, aging warrior. Takkar could still fight, though--could still kill. He would teach the enemy the price of dismissing him.

  "Goddess watch over you, Takkar. If you can free us, perhaps we can salvage something. If not, we will sell our lives as dearly as we are able." She returned to grooming, and Takkar fiercely envied her calm. She'd fully embraced death, the purest expression of haak he'd ever seen. She was more Ganog than anyone he'd ever met. More Ganog than Takkar.

  Even if she did bathe with saliva.

  A heavy transport disk approached, packed with Kthul elites in their sickly green armor. A second and third disk followed, the figures aboard all wearing the scarlet armor of the Vkash. Traitors, every one. All three disks disgorged their charges, and dozens of elites fanned out around Takkar and the tiny Tigris.

  Rifles were raised, covering them from every direction. Fizgig didn't react, and Takkar drew on her calm. He planted the head of his axe against the ground, waiting patiently for a commander to reveal himself.

  "Hello, Takkar," rumbled a heavy voice. The elites parted, allowing a short, stocky warrior to approach. His fur was shorter than most, and partially shaved as only Kthul fanatics did. He wore a pair of long daggers at his side, and had a rifle strapped to his back.

  Takkar's eyes widened when he recognized his opponent. The Kthul champion's size was deceptive, but Takkar knew he was capable of blinding speed. Some believed he was really an Adept.

  "Hello, Azatok," Takkar spat back. He took a step closer, holding his axe at the ready. "I see you've come to wrest Vkash's Fist from me. Do you have the stomachs to fight for it yourself?"

  Azatok gestured expansively. "Look around, old man. Your ship is already mine, your people already pledged to my cause. They have embraced the Nameless Ones, as I have. We serve our rightful masters once more."

  "Then you will not fight?" Takkar gave a derisive laugh. "Do you really fear me that much?"

  "You hope to provoke me into killing you, to spare you the shame of your latest defeat. I'm unsurprised. This is three terrible losses in a row, is it not?" Looking smug, Azatok approached Takkar but made no threatening moves. "Make no mistake, Takkar. I will kill you, and I will do it in the arena. Your days of winning the Imperial Games are long behind you. You've let yourself go. You are fat, and weak. Yet I will still grant you a warrior's death."

  "Why not here, and now?" Takkar asked, still hoping. He raised the axe, resting the blade casually on his shoulder.

  "Because," Azatok turned to face him, smiling wickedly, "I want to broadcast your death to the whole of the Imperium. Let the Vkash see their leader fall, know that their fate is now tied to the Nameless Ones." His fur shifted to a malicious red.

  Takkar's shoulders slumped. His public execution would be humiliating--not just for him, but for his clan. In his prime he might have stood a chance against Azatok, but now? He was too slow, too old. He would die fighting, but he was under no illusions that he could kill Azatok.

  "Who is your companion?" Azatok asked, crouching before Fizgig. "No, no, don't tell me. I recognize her species from the visions with which the Nameless Ones have blessed me. This must be the enemy fleet leader, the Mighty Fizgig. She is not nearly so fierce as I was led to believe. Can you talk, little creature?"

  Fizgig didn't respond. She continued to lick her fur, seemingly unaware of Azatok's presence.

  "I could have you put to death right now," Azatok said, leaning closer to Fizgig. "Or I could kill you myself. A wise captive gives respect, if she wishes to live."

  "You will kill me sooner or later," Fizgig said, continuing to groom, "so there seems little point in cooperation." She didn't look up at Azatok, or make any move to defend herself.

  "I think I will enjoy breaking you, little Tigris," Azatok snapped. He gestured to his elites. "Have them taken to holding cells."

  Takkar let himself be taken, and noticed that Fizgig didn't resist either. The chance to fight and die passed, leaving them to the mercy of a merciless foe.

  He hoped they'd made the right decision, and that the others had managed to escape.

  13

  TO ME

  T'kon aimed his slug thrower at the back of the elite's head, then whistled. The shrill sound caused the warrior to turn, and T'kon shot him in the eye. A heartbeat later, the explosive round detonated, and the elite crashed to the ground. Smoke rose from his eye socket.

  "You do not have to woo me, husband," Jehanna said, laughing like the girl she'd been when they'd first met. It was a welcome change, stripping away all the somberness that had settled over them recently.

  "A wise husband, particularly one who has just won his wife back, never stops trying to woo her," T'kon countered, laughing as well. For the first time in as long as he could remember, there was joy in his heart.

  He sprinted to the transport disk, offering Jehanna a hand. She took it, though both knew she needed no assistance. She moved in close, pressed against his chest.

  "You've become wiser in your time away." She smiled affectionately. "It did you good."

  "It did," T'kon said, nodding. He rested his sword against his shoulder. "Honestly? I would not change the events that led us here. The universe made me into what I need to be to oppose the Nameless Ones, and to safeguard our people."

  "That--I am surprised, husband," Jehanna admitted. She eyed him curiously, but there was pride in her eyes as well. "You endured much. To shrug it off as building character is something I'd never have expected from you. I love you dearly, but you've always carried grudges further than any warrior I've ever met."

  "That was the old me," T'kon said. "The prideful, surly leader, longing for past glories. Then I lost everything." He holstered his slug thrower. "I had no choice but to see reality as it is, rather than as I believe it to be. I had no allies to coddle me, no wealth to shelter me. I lived off my wits, and often went to bed with stomachs rumbling. Everything I took for granted was stripped away, scoured to the foundation. From there, I rebuilt, and I'd like to think I am better for it."

  "If we die today, husband, know that I am proud of you," Jehanna said, eyes shining. She caressed his cheek.

  T'kon's fur went purple-pink, and he didn't care who saw. "That feeling is mutual, wife. You've achieved much, both as an Adept and as a voice for our people. You are the truest Azi I have ever known."

  The disk finally zoomed to a
halt at the command island. T'kon tensed. A group of Kthul warriors was leading the attack, and they'd already shifted to great form. Some of the defenders had joined the enemy, though thankfully only a few. The Azi defenders were clustered behind pillars, struggling desperately to prevent their enemies from encircling them.

  Their position wasn't tenable, not in the long term. Not unless he did something.

  He met Jehanna's gaze, and she nodded fiercely.

  "Rally to me," T'kon boomed, flaring his lower nostrils. He sucked in deep breaths, growing a meter with every step. By the time he joined the defenders, he'd reached his full height.

  He lobbed handfuls of flash grenades into the air over the enemy, then closed his eyes tightly.

  Sharp flashes detonated in rapid succession. The instant they were over, T'kon opened his eyes and sprinted forward, running a Kthul through the back with his sword. He left the blade buried in the Kthul, and picked up the dead warrior's particle rifle instead.

  He turned that weapon on the enemy, catching the Kthul's right flank in a crossfire with the defenders. They dropped quickly, and the enemy fell back. T'kon sprinted to the center of the pillars, hiding behind one near the center.

  Several warriors fell in around him.

  "We must cut a path through the traitors before they recover." T'kon passed out more flash grenades. The warriors looked dubiously at them, but no one turned them away. "Use these."

  T'kon tossed a grenade into the air, ducking back behind the pillar. As soon as it detonated he charged the closest enemy, a Kthul in sickly green armor. The Kthul brought up his sword to block, but T'kon tossed a light grenade in his face, closing his eyes. A brief flash warmed his eyelids, and he opened them to find his opponent groping blindly. T'kon smashed the Kthul's face with the butt of his particle rifle, dropping him.

  "How many of those do you have, husband?" Jehanna called from a neighboring pillar.

  "I have about two dozen more," T'kon called, tossing another handful at a cluster of Kthul warriors. "That was something else I learned as a clanless hunter. Use any tool to win, and honor be damned. Ruthless warriors survive to the next battle."

  "Pragmatic," Jehanna called, laughing, "and clearly effective."

  T'kon spun around the next combatant, ripping his slug thrower from its holster and shooting him in the back. The elite stumbled off, clutching at his terrible wound, only to have Jehanna land on his shoulder and slash his throat with a tiny dagger. He still clutched at his throat when the explosive round detonated inside his torso.

  All around them the Azi rallied, pushing back the attackers. T'kon sucked in a deep breath. "They are on the defensive. Cut them down. No mercy!"

  His elites roared, surging forward in a wave. T'kon joined them, weaving between opponents with little conscious thought. The battle lasted mere moments--and an eternity--the lust carrying him through his enemy with intense fervor.

  Finally, the last Kthul fell with a cry, and there was blessed silence.

  T'kon tossed the Kthul particle rifle to the ground, panting. "We've won. Techsmith, to me."

  A robed Saurian trotted over, arcanotome clutched in a death grip. "Yes, Clan Leader?"

  "Send a message to all vessels to warp away. Head for site Theta." T'kon relaxed, gradually shrinking in size.

  "At once, Clan Leader." The techsmith bowed, and backed away.

  "We did it," Jehanna said, striding up as he returned to his lesser form. She smiled, laughing. But the smile faded, and her fur darkened to an uncertain red. "So what now? Where do we go?"

  "That question weighs heavily," T'kon said, some of the joy leaving him. He looked out the observation dome above them. "My heart says we should assault Imperalis with what we have. My head tells me that would end in disaster. Another course is warranted, but before I implement it we must purge our ranks of those sympathetic to the seekers. Then we will prepare to strike where they do not expect us."

  14

  CLANLESS

  Kokar joined the warriors in the lowest tier, with Hruk trailing in his wake. He shifted uncomfortably. All around him, the best of the Nyar warrior caste stared, and he felt naked despite wearing his best armor. Their contempt was an open challenge, but Kokar had no choice but to ignore it.

  Instead, he focused on the hologram that had appeared on the royal dais before his father.

  "Calm yourself, Kokar," Hruk whispered. "Do not let them see you fidget." He stared at the holoscreen as well, ignoring the others.

  Kokar stilled himself, watching the hologram expectantly. A sea of multicolored particles resolved into a face he knew well: the scarred, furless face he'd last seen on Imperalis. Utfa's milky eyes stared smugly out at them.

  "I have come to issue challenge," Utfa said, the words dripping scorn. "Tell me, Grak, will the legendary Nyar hide inside that little ball of rocks, or will you test your might against my clan? The Kthul have come at last, to scour you away at the will of our masters. If you refuse to fight, we will destroy your other worlds, one by one, until only this hiding place remains."

  Grak ignored Utfa's taunt, but bright scarlet leapt into his fur. Utfa smiled.

  Grak cocked his head, as if trying to understand his opponent. "You must know that only death awaits you here. Your fleet will be torn apart if you approach. We possess every advantage."

  "In the skies perhaps, but on the surface of that little world?" Utfa taunted. "If you meet me in the field, I will slaughter your people. My planetstriders will lay waste to your cities."

  Kokar knew the seeker had struck another blow.

  His father clenched his fists. His fur blackened. "Prepare your armies, seeker. We will meet you on the south slope, just outside the city."

  "Perhaps you are not the coward I've heard you are. I have your word then? You will allow my ground forces to safely warp in?" Utfa fixed his milky eyes on Grak. "I know that your Nyar honor won't allow you to break that word, but I have yet to hear you swear it."

  "Very well: I swear it. Your planetstriders, and any vessel that is cruiser size or smaller, will be allowed to warp safely into our system. My dreadnoughts will not engage your vessels--but make no mistake, if you attempt any tricks they will blast your ships from the sky." Grak gave a low growl. "Now prepare yourself, Kthul scum. Come find your death on the south slope."

  Kokar's fur went ashen. He slumped into his seat, only dimly aware of Hruk's arm around him.

  "Are you all right, lad?" Hruk asked.

  "Father," Kokar roared, shooting to his feet.

  His voice cut through the cacophony, and one by one the other Ganog fell silent as they realized that Grak was staring at his son.

  Kokar waited for total silence before speaking again. "I urge you to reconsider. Shunt their fleet into the debris field, and let us end the Kthul once and for all."

  "You would have me break my word?" Grak asked, his fur plunging into deep scarlet. "How have I raised such a coward? I know it cannot be your mother's doing. If she lived, she would be deeply ashamed--as I am shamed. We are on the eve of battle with our hated foes. We have every advantage. Yet you council us to fight like they do, to think as wretched Kthul. Have you not a shred of pride remaining?"

  "Father, we must be greater than our pride. They will betray us. You know that. You gave your word, and Utfa will use those words to hang you with. He is vile and treacherous, but most of all he is devious. He wrested Imperalis from the Yog, and has poisoned all clans, even our own." Kokar knew that last accusation would draw his father's ire, so he plunged ahead. "Unless you wish to name your own son a liar, in front of all. You know what I saw, Father. One of our clan went over to the seekers, and were so far gone they attempted to assassinate the empress. If it's possible for one, then it could certainly happen again."

  Grak unlimbered his chopping sword, his gaze murderous. "No, no more of your cowardly prattling. I name you clanless, Kokar. You are cast from our ranks. You may stay upon our world until the end of this battle, and then you will d
epart forever. If you are still here when I return from battle, I will deal your deathblow myself. I have no son."

  Grak turned away and stalked from the chamber. Sharp whispers flowed through the Ganog ranks, as they too began to disperse.

  Kokar ignored them. His fur shifted to a determined brown. So be it.

  He turned from his father's retreating form, walking proudly from the hall. He saw the pain and indecision in Hruk's eyes, and it meant more than he could ever express when his mentor followed him from the chamber.

  15

  NYAR WILL FALL

  Utfa took a deep breath, flaring his lower nostrils. He stared up at the floating ball of asteroids protecting his clan's oldest enemies. Three times in the course of Ganog history the Kthul had attempted to take this world. Each time they'd failed, either because they could not breach the warp anchor or because their ground forces were simply not strong enough.

  This time, Nyar would fall. Utfa closed his eyes, savoring the pulses of data from his arcanotome. Coming into contact with a Nameless One carried a heavy price, but the rewards were great. He could feel his fleet readying.

  The entire Void Wraith fleet--all eight hundred of them--had mobilized, ready to warp at his command. A niggling whisper in the back of his mind insisted that he shouldn't commit them all, that the Nyar could prove to be more canny than they appeared.

  He was entrusting a great deal to their honor, and if they reneged on their agreement it would place him in a very difficult position. Of course, if he was honest with himself...he'd almost rather be rid of the Void Wraith altogether. They were potent, but he had no illusions about who they truly served.

  The day would come when they were used against him, if he weren't careful.