Invasion of Kzarch

by E. G. Castle

  “Right,” the captain gasped out, breath coming out hard as he ran. The guerrilla team continued on, while the Marines turned and readied their weapons.

  The sergeant waited, until the gunboat began swinging towards the guerrilla team, then snapped out over the Marine channel, “Now!”

  Immediately, the Marines opened fire.

  The first warning the gunboat had of their presence, was the impacts on its shields.

  “Evade!” Bloody Jack snapped. “Then launch missiles! Fire beams only when the targets are detected!”

  “What-”

  “Those are Marines down there!” the pirate captain snarled, yanking a pirate away from the firing console, and prepping it himself. “Anything less than a direct hit from a beam won’t do much. And we need as much power for the shields as possible; especially if they have a heavy with them! Sensors, find them already! Before they blow us out of the sky!”

  “R-right! One sec…” The pirate frantically bent over his console, as the gunboat swerved and took another light hit.

  Back on the ground, Sergeant McKain was studying the gunboat.

  Their other Windstrike, I see… he thought, aiming and firing again, exby bullet hitting and weakening the gunboat’s shields slightly.

  In some ways that was good; in others, bad. The Windstrike had heavy shielding, but its weapons weren’t too powerful and its armor wasn’t impressive. If they could break through the shield…

  On the other hand, the Windstrike was hard to hit; due to its high speed and ability to perform unnervingly tight turns.

  The platoon sergeant quickly calculated the situation: Shield, heavy, armor, light, two beam cannons, two missile launchers. Three battlesuits, six wegs and three exby rifles…

  The odds weren’t terrible, but then again, neither were they good.

  “People, move!” he said sharply, and spun and ran toward the left. The two other Marines immediately followed.

  In the Windstrike, the gunboat’s sensors finally picked them up.

  “Got ‘em-!”

  “And stay on them!” Bloody Jack ordered bad-temperedly. He was not happy about the situation. He was only supposed to be hunting guerrillas, not Marines.

  Scanning the sensor results, he snarled, “So, this is a light scouting group? I suppose the Marines have nothing better to do than escort every single guerrilla around?!”

  “I- I guess the satellite must’ve missed most of ‘em.”

  “No duh,” growled the pirate captain, firing a missile. Cursing when it missed, he tried another missile, along with several beam shots.

  For a moment, the area around the Marines was awash with explosions.

  “Shit!”

  “You okay?”

  “No, I’m not,” growled the Marine, pain obvious in his voice. “Left arm’s busted, and I’ve lost my rifle. Shield’s nearly dead too.”

  “Damn. Try to hold on,” McKain ordered. “Don’t shoot, and get you ECM working best as you can.” Even while they conversed, the Marines kept up their fire at the gunboat.

  Those inside the Windstrike were being shaken around, as the gunboat attempted to twist and turn to avoid the shots, as well as from the slight impacts when a shot hit.

  Mind racing, Bloody Jack snarled, “Get us out of here!

  “Bu-”

  “Our shields are already down over fifty percent,” the pirate captain snapped, “And they’ve only lost maybe one man! I-”

  At that point, more from luck than anything else, an exby bullet managed to penetrate the gunboat’s shield, causing the Windstrike to shudder fiercely.

  Not waiting for Bloody Jack to finish, the pirate at the helm spun the ship, and hurtled it away.

  On the ground, seeing their opponents fleeing, all three Marines began rapid firing, in the hope they might be yet able to do some more damage before the gunboat was out of range.

  Usually such tactics weren’t too effective, but this time…

  The energy blasts and exby bullets kept weakening the shield, even as the Windstrike escaped. And then, just before it could completely get out of range, an exby fully penetrated the shield, hitting and detonating itself on the gunboat’s rear.

  Immediately, the engine failed. Smoke coming out of its back section, the gunboat twisted, turned… and came smashing down, crash-landing with a ground shaking WHUMP.

  “Got ‘em!” the injured Marine cheered viciously.

  “Should we go after them, sarge?” asked the other.

  McKain shook his head.

  “No. They’re two miles away, and by the time we could get to them, any pirate who might’ve survived the crash would’ve escaped. Besides, they could have already called reinforcements; and we need to get Lex back to base.”

  “Right, sarge. Come on, upsy-daisy, Lex!”

  “Oh, shut up. It’s my arm that’s injured, not my legs.”

  “Move it you two,” the platoon sergeant ordered, leading them towards where the guerrillas had headed. “We need to get back to base on the double.”

  ***

  “Furggle…” Bloody Jack spat out something, then opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the dead body of the gunboat’s commander. He felt a stab of disappointment, but with a mental shrug, removed killing him from his list of priorities.

  Looking further around, Bloody Jack saw two other pirates moving, while the one who had been at the helm lay motionless on his panel, a large pool of blood on the floor signaling his demise.

  Getting up, Bloody Jack checked himself over, unsurprised to find he had several bruises, a good few cuts, two nasty, and a broken arm.

  Still, he was more or less functional.

  “You two,” the pirate captain snapped, to the two still shaken crew-members. “Get the others, if they’re alive, and get them out of the gunboat!”

  One of the pirates, realizing who was giving orders, immediately jumped up to obey. Despite an obvious dizziness, the pirate made his way to the hall, and went down it to fetch anyone yet remaining alive.

  The other, however, simply stayed still, crying and moaning.

  Ignoring him for the moment, Bloody Jack crossed over to the communications console and checked it.

  Grunting in satisfaction, upon seeing it was still working, the pirate chieftain sent a message, ordering that a gunboat be sent to pick them up. Crossing the bridge towards the hall, he paused mid-way to stare at the pirate who was still moaning.

  “Get up!” Bloody Jack ordered, noting that the pirate seemed to have his leg partially cut off.

  “I- I can’t! AAA-” Pulling out his flamer, in a surprisingly smooth motion for someone injured, Bloody Jack sent a narrow stream of flame through the pirate’s head.

  “Then stay here.” he suggested coldly.

  Continuing towards the entrance to the hall, Bloody Jack snagged a medical kit. Slapping some bandages on and taking a painkiller, he then began making his way to the gunboat’s exit.

  Meeting him there was the other remaining pirates.

  “What are you waiting for? Get out the hatch!”

  “We- we can’t, cap’n.”

  “Why the bloody hell not?!”

  “Something’s broke. It ain’t-”

  “What about the manual override?”

  “Not working either.”

  Shit! Bloody Jack growled to himself, then made himself take a step back and focus on the situation. They needed some way to break through…

  “Anyone got grenades?”

  A minute later, the hatch blew outwards, and the pirates cautiously made their way out of the ruined gunboat, then, less cautiously, and with rather greater haste, put a good bit of distance between them and it.

  “Uh, captain, are we gonna get picked up?” one of the pirates asked, as the pirate captain grudgingly allowed them to use the medial kit.

  “I sent a message,” Bloody Jack said shortly. “They’ll be here soon.”

  “What about Pierre-”

  “Dea
d.”

  There was silence after that.

  Sitting on a fallen tree, Bloody Jack examined the situation. They should be rescued soon, and as long as the guerrillas didn’t show up…

  Then his mind turned to other matters.

  He was going to kill every last guerrilla on the planet, and every single bloody Marine. Accepting the change in his plans with a surprising equanimity, Bloody Jack began planning exactly how he would do it.

  He simply could not let anyone live who attacked him. Who hurt him. Who the bloody hell pissed him off.

  Bloody Jack suddenly smiled, the same toothy smile of a water animal with a fin on top, who moves very fast towards you when you’re drowning. Instinctively, fearfully, the pirates edged away from him.

  Regardless of everything else, this way, he was going to get to kill a lot more Marines and Kzarchians. He could live with that.

  Chapter Ten

  “McKain! How’s Lex?”

  “In medical, sir. They said he’ll be back to full health in a week.”

  “Good. And nice job with the Windstrike.”

  “We were lucky. I wouldn’t have bet we’d pull it off.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You still did it. I’m going to go talk to the general… Now the pirates have lost another gunboat, perhaps we can start really putting pressure on them. Maybe even start serious preparations for the compound mission…”

  “Maybe…” The platoon sergeant was a bit more doubtful.

  Making his way towards the main planning room, Frank was surprised to find the general not there. Usually, as soon as a team returned, the general would be in the room; considering the mission’s success or failure, what the pirates’ next move was going to be, and what the guerrillas needed to do next.

  Sticking his head back out into the hall, Frank checked to see if the general was arriving, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Frowning, the lieutenant began searching the base for General Juan, asking people if they had seen him. They hadn’t.

  He checked the general’s quarters, but he wasn’t there either. Finally, he returned to the main planning room.

  There, to his annoyance, was the general.

  “Where have you been? Sir?” he quickly added. “I’ve been trying to find you for the last half-hour.”

  “Attending to business, lieutenant,” the general grunted. “Important business.”

  “May I inquire…?” Frank began, interest rising.

  “No. It’s top secret; need-to-know only.”

  Feeling slightly deflated, Lieutenant Harsmith changed the subject to discussing the mission McKain had been on, and the success they had had.

  The general thoughtfully rubbed his chin.

  “I see… Interesting. That means, they have, what, five or so gunboats left?”

  “About that. But they still have their three spaceships.”

  “True. And several thousand men. I’m not about to start underestimating them, lieutenant.”

  Ignoring the implied rebuke, Frank leaned forward.

  “Sir, I think this makes the mission, the one against the supply compound by the governor’s mansion, all the more important. Perhaps we should move it up. Considering that they’ve lost anoth-”

  “That’s true, lieutenant,” General Val’gor interrupted. “But I don’t think rushing into battle is a good idea. The mission will proceed as planned; by which I mean, when I decide.”

  Frank considered protesting for a moment, but actually, he felt the general was right. The mission was complicated enough as it was, without changing things.

  “Very, well, sir. We have some time before we’d kick the mission off though… Do you intend to send out more scouts or anything?”

  “Actually, I intend to slow things down; hopefully it will lull them into a false sense of security. Besides, they don’t have much left to hit by now.”

  Slightly dubious, but unable to argue the point, Frank agreed, “True, sir.”

  “Will that be all, lieutenant? I have things to think about.”

  “Yes, sir.” Saluting, Frank turned sharply and headed out the door.

  ***

  “Well?” Bloody Jack snapped. His arm was still broken, now tucked into a healing unit, and although many of his smaller wounds and bruises had been healed, his body ached yet.

  Most pirates in his position would be worrying about a coup, but not Bloody Jack.

  As far as the other pirates were concerned, the fact that their boss was injured wasn’t a reason to plan an assassination, it was a reason to keep their head down. Bloody Jack was infamous for being even more dangerous when he was injured than when he was healthy.

  His second-in-command had only approached him now because she had an important message to deliver. Probably Hamil had fobbed it off on her; as she was the only one crazy enough to do it.

  “We’ve received a communication, Bloody Jack. Hamil thought you needed to look at it.”

  The pirate captain glanced over it, and sneered.

  “Ridiculous.”

  “But-”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll deal. But it’s stupid, and almost certainly fake.”

  Mad shrugged.

  “Anyway, captain, I’ve finished the basic plan for th-”

  “Forget it.” Bloody Jack said abruptly. “I’m having some better ideas.”

  Face a picture of disappointment, Mad left the room, a disapproving air following her.

  Considering the message again, Bloody Jack tossed it onto his desk, and winced slightly from the twinge that accompanied the motion.

  If he hadn’t been injured, he wouldn’t have been so dismissive of the message. At the moment though, with the aches and pains he was suffering, he wanted nothing to do with it.

  Looking out the window now, Bloody Jack watched as groups of pirates wandered all over. Glaring down at them, the pirate chief wondered how many were planning to try to kill him. There was always some…

  Chapter Eleven

  A day later, feeling somewhat better, especially after having executed three people he thought were planning on trying to kill him, Bloody Jack was ready to deal with the message… and the one who sent it.

  “So.” Bloody Jack paused, eying the voice-only com.

  “Yes?” came across after several moments’ wait. It sounded a trifle irritated. Suppressing a smile, Bloody Jack continued.

  “I am a trifle puzzled, I must admit. Why, exactly…”

  “That’s my business,” the other said curtly.

  Bloody Jack shrugged.

  “True. So then, how do you intend to help us, and why do you think we’ll give you what you’re asking for?”

  The man at the other end of the line began explaining. Listening, Bloody Jack thought the man made a good case, but it wasn’t what he needed. But perhaps with some modification…

  “In essence, then, we wouldn’t be getting anything.” The pirate chief’s voice was cold. “You would get what you want, but we would get nothing.” There was a short pause.

  “I offered-”

  “An offer that means nothing. We could do the exact same thing whether you offered it or not.”

  Again there was a short pause.

  “But you’d be able to es-”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Bloody Jack contemptuously. “We already knew they were likely to be coming. Simply because you warned us-”

  “Then what do you want?” The voice from the other end of the line was harsh.

  “This.” Bloody Jack outlined what he wanted.

  “That…” the other said slowly. “It wouldn’t be impossible. But it’s not…” he trailed off.

  Bloody Jack grinned.

  If the person was actually considering the idea, then he probably would go for it.

  “It’ll get us both what we want,” he said, then waited. Nearly a minute passed, as the other thought in silence.

  Then the voice came back, heavily, “Very well. We have an agreement.”<
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  ***

  “Lieutenant! Lieutenant Harsmith!”

  “Eh? Sergeant Dri’ver-?”

  “Sir, the general has been attacked!”

  “What?! What happened?!” Frank immediately left the Marine barracks, heading towards the headquarters for the guerrilla camp, the much smaller sergeant struggling to keep up.

  “No-one knows, sir! But the general’s quarters were blown up!”

  “I didn’t he-”

  “It was an energy bomb, sir!”

  “I see. Is he alive? Wounded?”

  “I don’t know, sir!”

  “You don’t kno-”

  “T- Colonel Fil’dwis just ordered me to fetch you! We were in the building when the bomb went off, so we knew something was going on. As soon as the colonel saw that the general’s rooms had been the site of the detonation…”

  “Got it.” Frank strode into the building, where things were in a chaotically confused state, people rushing all over.

  Deciding he was unlikely to get a clear answer from any of them, and that there would be a good chance that the answer would be wrong anyway, the lieutenant waded his way into the crowd, making his way towards the planning room. He assumed by this point most of the other guerrilla commanders would have been informed of what had happened, and had either made their way there, or were doing so.

  He was correct.

  By the time he arrived, nearly a third of the commanders had showed up, and more kept arriving every minute.

  One of the people in the room made his way over towards Frank, as the lieutenant entered.

  “Frank!”

  “Tom! What’s going on? Is the gen-”

  “He’s alive. But hurt.” Frank mentally breathed out a quiet sigh of relief.

  If the guerrillas lost their leader, the consequences would have been catastrophic.

  “How hurt?”

  “Badly, but he’ll survive. He was lucky; he was in the hall when the bomb went off. But he won’t be back to full health for probably another week, minimum, even with the best medical care we can give him.”