Books One to Three Omnibus (Armada Wars)

by R. Curtis Venture

  You would all die to see that we succeed here, thought Thande. I’m sorry I had any doubts.

  The dreadship’s course began to change. Slowly, heavily, it turned towards the soaring cruiser.

  “Dreadship is responding,” said Tactical. “Heavy salvoes.”

  “Are they scoring hits?”

  “Not many. The gap’s pretty big, and the cruiser is still gaining speed.”

  Thande watched the Viskr ship barrel past the Shaeld Hrathan leviathan, and hoped to the many worlds that it survived the encounter.

  “They’re now taking hits,” said Tactical, “but holding a true course. Engines have taken no damage. They’ve passed it by.”

  Thande realised she had been holding her breath, and exhaled loudly.

  “Dreadship is still turning to follow.”

  A sigh of relief filled the command deck, and Thande was satisfied to know she had not been the only one holding her breath.

  “Commander, please make a note in the ship’s log. Commend the crew of that ship for their valiant sacrifice. I don’t believe a single Viskr has ever been recognised in service to the Imperial Combine.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  • • •

  “We’re here.”

  Eilentes set the lander down in an empty plaza. She had ventured into the citadel as far as she dared, hoping to shorten the ground trip they would need to make, but not willing to risk prompting a response from the defences she knew would inevitably protect the inner buildings.

  “Offloading,” came the reply.

  She heard the rear ramp hit the ground, unbuckled her safety straps, and snapped down her helmet visor. Reaching behind her seat, she grabbed her rifles and pulled them from the rack.

  The canopy popped, swung up and away, and she mag-tagged her rifles. They shunked firmly into position, and she swung her legs over the rim of the cockpit to climb down.

  By the time she reached the ground, most of Bullseye were already forming up into their fire teams. The Kodiak had rolled out of the rear compartment and stood waiting nearby.

  “Eilentes, with me,” said Caden.

  “Obviously.”

  “Chun, I’ll take the guys as usual. Have the rest of your squads run interference. If there’s anything hostile on the ground around here, I want it drawn away from the cabinet.”

  “You got it,” said Chun.

  “We taking the Kodiak?” Eilentes asked.

  “No way,” said Caden. “You saw what happened to the last one. The people in that thing didn’t stand a chance.”

  Eilentes would have felt safer crossing the citadel with armour around her, but she could not fault his logic. Being blown up was not something which featured on her list of life goals.

  “Bruiser, you ready to roll?”

  “I am ready, Caden.”

  “Good. Keep an eye on Caecald as well as on me. We need him to survive this.”

  “I will try.”

  “Let’s move.”

  Eilentes followed after Caden, Bruiser, and Caecald, falling in with Norskine, Daxon, and Bro. She jogged beside them, found it easy, and wondered vaguely how strong the planet’s gravity actually was.

  “It’s so quiet.”

  She glanced across to Norskine, saw that the private was looking around as they moved. Eilentes looked around too, and realised that the citadel was utterly abandoned.

  The plaza they crossed was wide enough to accommodate their lander many times over. Red, triangular tiles covered the ground, with no sign of weeds or even moss between them. Whoever was responsible for maintaining the citadel was very good at their job. They probably have to be, Eilentes thought. Or they risk stern consequences.

  She noticed there were no ornaments. No fountains, no benches, no feature plants, nothing. This place was purely functional.

  “Heads up,” Bro shouted.

  A blitzer screamed overhead, looped back on itself, and hovered above them. It spun around on its turbines, chattered to itself, then shot off the same way it had come.

  “IFF signal still works then,” said Daxon. “Thank fuck for that.”

  “Will it work on skulkers too?” Eilentes asked.

  “It’ll work on everything,” said Daxon.

  “Good.”

  “What’s going on up there?” Norskine asked.

  Eilentes came to a stop with the others, and checked behind them before looking ahead. There was still nobody else moving in the plaza, so she craned her neck to see past Bruiser.

  Caden and the Proctor were arguing over the control panel to an understated entranceway. After a few moments the heavy doors in front of them opened, then they both appeared to be arguing over which of them had been responsible.

  Eilentes smiled to herself. Caecald was certainly an alien, from a race the Empire only knew how to hate, but he definitely reminded her of someone.

  The party moved forwards again and passed quietly through the doorway. The dark tunnel ahead of them was pitch black, until soft lights switched themselves on and cast a warm, orange glow. The tunnel stretched on and on ahead of them, straight towards the centre of the capital.

  “This feels a little too easy,” said Bro.

  “Don’t get edgy now,” said Daxon. “If we can skip out half the trip by going underneath, I’m all for it.”

  “You and me both,” said Eilentes.

  • • •

  Caden nodded to Bruiser, and they moved out of the mouth of the tunnel in unison. They swept the chamber ahead of them, their lights reaching far across the dark space. Pillars cut the beams every few metres. He shone his light upwards, into the vaunted ceiling, and saw that between the pillars the ceiling sank upwards into wells which then emptied into pitch black vertical channels.

  “What is this place?” Bruiser asked over the link.

  “Looks like… a hypocaust?” Said Caden.

  “We will have the heat of the waters,” Caecald offered.

  “Yep,” said Caden. “Hypocaust.”

  “This makes heat?” Bruiser asked.

  “You like that idea, huh?”

  “I do, Caden. Your buildings and ships are cold.”

  “Shame it’s not working. Except that we’d all boil to death.”

  “The way of the need will be above.”

  “I understand, Caecald; we have to go up. How do we do that?”

  Caden watched the Viskr closely as he gestured with his hands, miming some kind of escape through a small space followed by an ascent in an object which was apparently fist-shaped.

  “We get out of here onto another floor, then there’s an elevator.”

  Caecald led them to a set of stone steps leading up to a trap door, which Bruiser barged aside without any obvious difficulty. The Rodori poked his head cautiously out through the gap, took a good look around, then climbed out onto the floor above.

  “It is safe.”

  Caden went after him, and the others followed one by one. The hallway was gloomy, and — other than the distant sounds of battle, far from the citadel — eerily silent.

  “Over there?”

  Caden pointed to what looked like a series of doors at the end of the hallway. Caecald set off immediately, indicating through his actions that it was the correct route, and Bruiser tried to keep pace with him.

  Eilentes opened a private channel to Caden.

  “Caden,” she said. “Where is everyone?”

  “Don’t fret,” he said. “They probably evacuated the citadel as soon as the dreadships made orbit.”

  “But the cabinet… would they really stay?”

  “The leaders always do. It’s a point of honour, I think. Remember Mibes? That’s why our officials always move to a fallback position during an attack. The Viskr can’t get their heads around it.”

  “So they’ll just be getting on with their normal daily routine?”

  “I have no idea what they’ll be doing,” Caden said. “Just where they will be.”

  O
ne of the doors near Caecald slid open, revealing an elevator car. He stepped inside, and beckoned for Caden to follow.

  Caden went in after him, and Bruiser ducked to squeeze into what little space remained. An angry buzzer sounded.

  “Too heavy, Biggun,” said Caden.

  Bruiser looked between Caden and the hallway, uncertain as to what he should do.

  “Take a different car.”

  “I must go with you.”

  “You can’t. Take another.”

  Bruiser ducked back out of the elevator, and Eilentes took his place.

  “See you in a moment,” said Caden.

  The doors closed, sealing off the elevator from the hallway, and the car accelerated upwards. The illuminated script on the wall of the car made no sense to Caden, but he counted twenty-one flashes of light in the thin line where the doors touched each other.

  The elevator slowed, stopped, and its doors opened.

  Caecald stepped out with one foot, leaning forwards and peering left and right before exiting into the corridor. Eilentes and Caden followed, both of them holding their weapons ready.

  “Still too quiet,” Eilentes warned.

  Another elevator arrived, and Bruiser stepped out to join them. Then a third, opening its doors to reveal Bro, Daxon, and Norskine.

  “Show us the way, Caecald,” said Caden.

  Caecald started off along the corridor, until he came to a set of carved wooden doors at the very end of the passage. He waited for the others to reach him.

  Caden pushed one of the doors until it moved, then slowly opened it until he could see into the room. It was a high chamber, circular, with pillars throughout spaced apart by a few metres. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded the entire chamber, giving a panoramic view of the citadel, the park, and the greater city beyond it. There was nothing else of interest that he could see in the chamber, and nobody else within sight.

  He jerked his head at the chamber, and stepped inside.

  Bro, Daxon and Norskine fanned out silently, backing up to the nearest pillars and ducking out to check the avenues between them. Eilentes followed their lead, taking up a position which would let her cover everyone else if need be.

  Caden took a closer look at the structure of the chamber. There was an inner enclosure towards the centre, a circle within a circle, with a roof of its own which reached to half the height of the chamber’s high ceiling. Beyond it, he saw the top halves of more pillars. The outer chamber formed a ring around the inner enclosure.

  “In there?” He signalled to Caecald.

  Caecald nodded. Caden guessed he had picked up the gesture by watching them all interact with each other.

  Caden nudged Bruiser’s arm, and stole quietly between the pillars. He moved around the enclosed room until he found a set of varnished doors, and pushed one of them open. After a moment, when nothing at all unpleasant had happened, he stepped inside.

  The room was not quite what he had expected. Spherical lamps cast a pleasant glow across the space. Wood panels lined the walls, each of them carved intricately to depict scenes which he assumed must have represented important moments in the history of the Viskr race. A thick carpet sank underfoot, and he looked down to see that it was in fact a brown moss. It was all surprisingly understandable.

  He looked to the centre of the room, and his heart sank.

  A hexagonal table stood at the heart of the enclosure, with three chairs set out along each side. In each and every chair, slumped forwards on the edge of the table, or sat back in an unnatural position, was a corpse.

  Caecald entered the room and elbowed his way between Caden and Bruiser. He stood for a moment, staring at the carnage in front of them, then sank to the floor on all fours.

  Caden stepped around him and walked slowly around the table, looking at each body in turn. Several had had their throats cut, others had open wounds in their heads. He saw at least one with the handle of a dagger still protruding from the chest.

  “These ones were killed all at the same time,” said Bruiser.

  “Caecald,” said Caden. “Any idea how long they have been like this?”

  Caecald lifted his angular head towards Caden, but said nothing.

  “When did this happen?”

  Again, Caecald said nothing. His gaze returned to the floor.

  “Great,” said Caden. “Any idea, Bruiser? I don’t know shit about Viskr anatomy.”

  “Nor do I.”

  Caden moved towards Caecald, intending to try to get him to his feet, but before he could reach him he heard a shot in the outer chamber.

  Then another two shots, then an exchange of fire and alarmed cross-talk on the group channel.

  “Bruiser!” He shouted.

  Bruiser stepped outside the door, checked in each direction, looked back at Caden, and then he was gone.

  Caden waited with the murdered cabinet, trying to pick out any of the snatches of speech which the others occasionally yelled into their links.

  “Bro’s down!” That was Norskine.

  “Where is he? I don’t see him?” Daxon.

  “On the floor, he’s bleeding out!” She sounded hysterical.

  “Yeah, but WHERE?”

  More gunfire.

  “Over by the—”

  Another shot, and there was only silence from Norskine.

  Machine gun fire from Bruiser. Short bursts, suppressive.

  “I found them.” Eilentes. “Daxon, Norskine is dead. Bro’s not gonna last long.”

  Caden closed his eyes briefly.

  “Bruiser,” he said into his link. “Get them back here.”

  “On the way, Caden.”

  Caden grabbed Caecald by the arm, and pulled until the Viskr relented. He moved the proctor behind the table, hiding him as best he could behind the tall chairs on that side of the room. He pulled his rifle from its mag-tag, and rested his elbows on the tabletop.

  The doors burst open, Bruiser leading the way with a limp body tucked under one of his arms. Daxon and Eilentes came after him, and the corporal slammed one of the doors shut before throwing himself to one side of the room to cover the remaining gap.

  “Norskine?” Said Caden.

  “Right in the heart,” said Eilentes.

  “Who did it?”

  “No idea,” Daxon fumed. “Fast though. Moving between the pillars.”

  “Daxon,” said Bruiser. “Bro needs you.”

  “Swap,” said Daxon.

  Bruiser placed Bro on the ground and moved to replace Daxon. The corporal slammed his knees to the floor next to Bro, looked him up and down, and pulled his helmet off immediately.

  “Daxon,” said Caden. “The virus…”

  “If I don’t, he’s dead,” said Daxon. “Fuck the virus.”

  He pulled off Bro’s armoured breastplate and threw it behind him. Blood poured from the hole immediately, pooling around the joints of the armour and flowing over onto the floor.

  Caden stole a glance at Bro’s face, then looked back to the door. The private’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling. His skin was yellow-white, his lips fringed with blue. As far as Caden could tell, he looked very dead.

  Daxon swore, and thumped the wall.

  Footsteps in the chamber. Heavy, thudding footsteps. Caden readied himself to fire, sensed the others do the same thing, felt the anticipation pull tight like a rubber cord across his chest.

  “Now you have stopped shooting at me, it’s time we had a talk.”

  The voice came from just outside the doors, off to one side so that the speaker could not be shot through the thin wood.

  But it wasn’t possible. That voice had fallen silent already. Caden blinked, re-focused down his rifle’s sight, and told himself to get a grip.

  “I’m not going to harm you. Let me enter.”

  Nobody moved. There were more footsteps, and a broad human shape filled the doorway.

  “Ren?” Eilentes said.

  Caden fired.

  — 19 —


  The Battle of Ramm Stallahad

  Betombe leaned forwards to watch the view from the fore sensors, waiting for that fateful moment when the clouds would part for him. He was oblivious to the rumble of the atmosphere around the ship, the vibration of the deck plates and bulkheads. None of that mattered now.

  “We’re closing,” Tactical called. “EM detection is pinging all over the place. Judging by these readings, those things must be in the lower troposphere already.”

  “Stay the course,” Betombe said. “We come down firing.”

  “All ships reporting steady descents,” COMOP said. “We have enough still with us to take on one, maybe two dreadships. Surely fourteen is out of the question?”

  “This doesn’t seem like a good fight to pick,” said Laselle.

  Betombe glanced away from his holo, looked directly at Tactical.

  “Those point defences of theirs,” he said. “How fast are they? Good enough to track fighters?”

  “We’ve gathered a lot of data, Sir. Let me check.”

  “The dreadships can’t land,” Betombe returned his attention to the holo, waiting for the critical moment to arrive. “They have to hold vertical in an atmosphere. Whatever that bandit is, I think their whole purpose here is simply to defend it.”

  “Fighter strike velocities exceed the tracking limits of enemy guns, Sir.”

  “Excellent. The fleet will hold position above their formation and bombard at range — we’ll have the advantage of the gravity well. Fighters and gunships will deploy within the cone of our flak curtain and attempt to knock out the bandit.”

  “Admiral,” said Laselle. “Fighters, against fourteen dreadships?”

  “They won’t be gunning for the dreadships. They’re only going to target that one vessel.”

  “Even so, it’s pretty big. And they’ll attract fire from all hostiles.”

  “They don’t have to destroy it. They only have to compromise its functioning.”

  “Admiral,” said Tactical. “I suggest the fighters descend in a helical pattern. That will give them both horizontal and vertical motion relative to the Shaeld point defences: harder to hit.”