by Scott Moon
Words scrolled across the screen, silent alerts for a breach of security his superiors wanted no one without SMC armor to hear. He couldn’t concentrate on the words or care about what they meant.
“I just want to talk, ask some questions,” he said, weakness caressing his muscles.
She moved closer, matching his height. “We will talk as much as you like where we are going. You may ask me questions, all the questions your heart desires, but not here on the battlefield. It is undignified for a human such as you are.”
“I’ve got to go back now.” He hated himself for saying the words because Ace and Amanda needed him. They could never endure the anguish this creature might force into their minds, sear into their dreams.
“Come with me, Brother Kevin,” she said, moving near enough to breathe into his mouth. Her long, dense hair moved without help from the gentle night breeze.
“No.”
The Siren opened her mouth to scream, but the sound that came out was more horrible and yet more beautiful than anything he had ever heard.
Thinking of fights with Arthur, he struck without thinking. It was the kind of haymaker he always worried would kill his brother because it was a sucker punch — launched even before he knew he would throw it. There was no way this alien woman could see it coming.
His fist slammed into her with all his strength and weight behind it but glanced from her raised shoulder as she moved like nightfall. Before he understood she was trying to capture him, he fought against strong hands — too many to count. Darkness confused his vision. He lost his balance. His ears betrayed him with sounds of joy and sadness and rage.
This creature had captured Ace and Amanda but lost them. He didn’t know how he understood the truth of it. She looked different in her battle gear. He screamed, “Where are they?”
She lashed out, striking his visor with a sword that felt like a hammer chopping into the tough polymer.
The perimeter alarm went up. Chaf and Edwards fired over his head, striking the Siren armor several times with little effect.
Kevin broke free and found himself two thousand meters from the SMC defensive works. Countermeasures boomed — standard procedure in response to a night attack. Flares burned in the sky. Mortars hammered no-man’s-land between the SMC and the DU. Supersonic tracer rounds ripped into pre-plotted fields of fire, except for Lovejoy’s platoon hammering the fleeing Siren with every weapon they had.
Kevin understood he couldn’t have resisted the Siren much longer. The next time they met, he would be ready — stronger, faster, more cunning. He struggled through the chaos, pausing within sight of an enemy position not visible from the trenches. Tarps and nets stretched over the young growth forest near the foothills. A well-organized army of Void Trolls stood ready to advance — spread out to avoid massed artillery fire. Behind them, he thought, just for a moment, he saw a wall of ancient battle tanks overgrown with vegetation like the forgotten jungle pyramids of Earth history.
Dissident Union commandos hurried through the night, setting up electronic and infrared scramblers. The stone-like giants waited in a state of barely contained violence. Davis had told him the Void Trolls were solitary creatures driven to madness and bloodlust by the proximity of others of their kind.
Somehow, the DU officers had taught them to fight with discipline. Kevin looked closer and got a bad feeling. The trolls were nothing but monsters, yet he had the impression they had only been waiting to wage real war. During a ridiculous flash of intuition, he thought the DU officers appeared as children playing adults. He wondered if the monsters had really been mastered by the humans.
“No one is going to believe me,” Kevin said as he hurried back to his friends, ducking friendly and not-so-friendly fire.
34
Killer Trees
“Get out there and make Recon proud,” Captain Iowa said.
Lacy saluted, then faced her team. “You heard the man. Priest, take Delta on point. Don’t wait for my authority to mark targets for the orbital artillery platforms and airships. You know what you are doing.”
Priest understood this was business for Lacy. She wasn’t known for handing out compliments, and if she were, he would be far down on her list of recipients. He knew he was the best sergeant and small unit leader in Zulu Recon Company. Modesty was for first dates.
Signaling his marines to move, he led the way into the night. “Slow and steady wins the race. No use stumbling into something nasty…”
“Like Iowa’s mom,” one of his team said.
“… before we acquire our targeting solutions. Keep the chatter down. Nothing but line-of-sight infrared communication until we see hellfire and damnation raining down to crush our enemies,” Priest said.
The deployment started well, despite fatigue, injuries, and gaping holes in their ranks. During the first two hours of the probing mission, Lacy received three pairs of replacements, which she sent straight to units needing them. For a normal unit, this would have been a recipe for disaster. In Recon, everyone knew their job — and the jobs of most everyone else — and could slide into a squad on the move.
Priest took Delta wide around enemy battle lines, wondering about the Connelly kid and what he had been doing out of his trench. Aerial surveillance, such as it was with all the dirt the orbital bombardment had churned into the atmosphere, confirmed the incursion had been a single Siren warrior, probably one of their elite hero class if Davis knew what he was talking about.
The DU army hadn’t advanced or retreated an inch since the previous day, which gave Priest cold shivers. The DU had to know they were out classed and that in less than forty-eight hours, the Coalition of Worlds would have twice their number of modern troops on the ground. Tricks and outdated artillery wouldn’t save the DU or their pets.
“Go slow here,” Lacy said. “If the DU has something planned, it will have to come from this river delta.”
Priest relayed the command and halted for a moment of structured observation, recording facts about the terrain that computers had already catalogued for colonels and above.
The cold hand of death touched him again, causing him to shiver.
“What is it, Priest?” Lacy asked. “I see your squad. I said slow your pace, not stop.”
“There are a lot of trees around this delta. Shouldn’t seasonal floods have kept this area clear?”
“Survey crews have verified the topography and ground cover is consistent with other regions on Brookhaven. I’ll admit this area looks groomed, but I don’t see your point,” she said.
The growing clarity of Lacy’s link suggested she was moving closer, probably intent on joining his observation point to see for herself.
Other squads moved to Delta’s right and left, setting up their own surveillance and making their own manual observations.
“Do you see it, McCraw?” Priest asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she said. “Not good, Priest. It is a bit like realizing the condom came off somewhere…”
Frenchie interrupted. “Mon dieu. You better do something, mi compain.”
Lacy’s words jounced around as she broke into a run. “Don’t do anything stupid. Let me take a look.”
Priest shook his head without turning back. “Emergency link to Command. This is Gunnery Sergeant Priest, 1st Platoon SMC Marauders, Zulu Recon Company. Request massive air strike on these coordinates. Repeat, all available ordinance. Emergency code: X-ray, Delta, Foxtrot 27-27-9.” He read identity and confirmation codes from his HUD display as Lacy cursed him.
“Command to ZRC Delta Squad, please explain the nature of the threat,” came a voice. “Orbital surveillance, drones, and airships show minor inconsistencies in the terrain. Recommend you move through the area and report your findings.”
“Goddamn it, Command!” Lacy shouted as she arrived at Priest’s position, not even taking the time to get down and conceal herself. “Hit that fucking position now. We’ve got mega tanks. Multiple divisions.”
&nb
sp; “Lacy used the f-word,” McCraw said.
“Command to 1st Platoon leader… um, Lieutenant Lacy, please describe the situation, soonest.”
“There are trees moving right at us. Why’d you ask, you paper-pushing jackass? Because they are growing on the backs of tanks. We are about to get corn-holed here!”
“I love it when she gets nasty,” Frenchie said, his normal enthusiasm muted and tight.
“She’s never nasty. Never. Which is why I am worried,” McCraw said.
Priest left the command and local links open but ignored them. “Delta squad, spread out. No sense giving them an easy target. Lay defensive mines if you have them.”
A pair of Hellfire gunships streaked across the horizon to strafe the artificial forest with auto cannons. Priest shaded his visor against the nearly continuous stream of tracer rounds. Another pair of gunships followed, then a third and fourth.
Mega tanks moved forward. Radio communications in the Coalition of Worlds Forces (CWF), mostly UNA but some other national entities, grew exponentially with every ten enemy units lurching into motion — ten, twenty, one hundred, two hundred. Priest realized he was quite possibly looking at every mega tank built during the years before they were decommissioned.
The second echelon of the monstrous war machines stopped. Ramps dropped as the mega tanks raked the terrain with cover file. DU shock troops boiled out and swarmed into an overrun UNA bunker system.
Each of the war-machines carried a company of medium infantry and wielded enough firepower to destroy any of the small, scenic towns scattered across Brookhaven to the south of the war zone. Nuclear powered, the mega tanks could also convert almost anything to fuel — sunlight, fossil fuels, garbage, or human remains.
“Where the hell did they get these old buckets of rust?” Lacy asked. “And how did they transport them here? That kind of troop buildup had to take a decade.”
Air to ground rockets and smart bombs reached down from high altitude firing runs. One volley came from the UNA Fleet orbiting Brookhaven.
Dozens of mega tanks exploded from concentrated fire — mushroom clouds adding to the atmospheric pollution of war. Others became mired in craters, rendered dangerous but immobile. In tanker lexicon, they’d been soft killed.
Priest coded a private link to Lacy. “I’m not getting orders from command. What are we doing here?”
“The orders are to hold the line,” Lacy said. “I am reaching out to my contacts to see if I can talk sense into anyone with authority to redirect the invasion force.”
Priest turned his head toward the direction he and the Marauders had come. Arrayed behind his position for miles were soldiers, vehicles, supply lines, and temporary bases. The placement of these assets was efficiently organized, except that no one had anticipated a DU force this strong to oppose the advance.
The first row of mega tanks aimed their guns as they picked up speed, seeming to flatten the gentle hills rather than travel over them. Priest watched the barrels lowering, fascinated despite being on the wrong end of the battle equation now.
“The entire invasion force is channeled between the lake-ocean and mountains,” Lacy said.
Priest shook his head. He hated Brookhaven despite its beauty and potential for great wonders.
“This place is cursed,” McCraw said.
The new Dragonlance class of fighter bomber that Priest had never seen, and hadn’t believed were real, dropped out of the filthy clouds of bombardment-displaced dust and attacked.
Beyond the dirty clouds and explosions, the planet looked like a blue and green paradise — better than most any place Priest had visited. The problem with Brookhaven was that he always lost friends to the hungry gods of war. He doubted Brookhaven would be a paradise world for long. The terraforming cities were already struggling to keep up with the environmental stress of modern warfare.
The UNA fighter bombers hit the racing mega tanks hard, doing far greater damage than the artillery strikes.
“I can’t tell you the last time air strikes did more overall damage than artillery and orbital methods,” Lacy said to Priest.
He relaxed. Things were looking up despite all the old tanks shaking loose dirt and vegetation as their heavy guns roared.
“Take cover, Delta,” Priest said. “We will see who dug their foxholes deep enough to survive.”
Each of the mega tanks had two main guns and three 125-millimeter “‘small” guns. The larger were not measured on the old system. Antiaircraft machine guns and flak cannons also protected the old war machines. Crews fired at UNA and CWF planes during their attack runs. The conflict between ground and air power fluctuated. Tanks couldn’t take out aircraft, but neither could they be stopped by the aerial harassment.
“Dare I say… call the Cyclops?” McCraw said.
Priest cursed. “Add about three years to the time we are going to spend on this paradise.”
A new message came across the Division Comlink. “Attention, Coalition Forces, stand by for the arrival of Red, Blue, and Green Fleets for reinforcements. Hold the line, and God be with you.”
“What does that mean?” McCraw said, knowing damn well what it meant by the tone of her voice.
“These trees weren’t the only trees planted to kill us,” Priest said.
His squad looked at him.
McCraw spoke up first. “That is not something I ever thought you might say.”
Battle threat alerts warned of DU mega tank mobilization in fifteen strategic areas of Brookhaven.
“I hate this planet,” Lacy said.
35
Amanda’s Pursuit
DARKNESS swallowed Cronin as Amanda chased him up increasingly steep animal trails. The rolling landscape of Brookhaven seemed angrier the closer she came to the mountains, which local legends claimed were impassable. “Yell if you can, Ace!”
She paused to catch her breath and listen. If she heard her twin, it was at least half imagination. The sound of her labored breathing and pounding heart played tricks on her. She moved forward, brushing hair clear of her eyes as she climbed — not ready to run again but desperate to keep moving.
Why are you the frail one, Ace? Stupid questions didn’t deserve answers. She muttered as a blister popped between her toes and she realized she was starving. Hours had passed since her last meal of Nix paste. As far as she knew, the demon-masked giant had eaten nothing else and seemed not to crave variety or flavor. Images of Ace’s captor sipping gruel from a tube without making a face helped to occupy her mind as she labored upward.
She reached the top, only to discover it wasn’t the top. “Ace!”
Cronin appeared on a rock fifty meters higher, staring down at her. In one hand was a sword bigger than she was. Under his other arm was Ace, bound and gagged and barely struggling.
Her twin was a Connelly. He should be kicking and thrashing unless the Nix had hurt him badly.
“You anger the Nix,” Cronin said. “You anger me. I do not need you to poison him with your lies, woman creature.”
Two things happened. Amanda realized she had caught her breath and was ready to sprint after the giant holding her brother carelessly under one arm — like a schoolyard bully handling a rag doll. And while she felt good, ready to run like a gazelle, she understood it was pointless. She could never overpower the alien.
“You are too small to keep up. Promise you will not poison his thoughts or try to escape, and I will allow you to come with us,” Cronin said.
“I promise. Please, Cronin. Let me stay with my brother.”
Cronin scowled, reflexively squeezing Ace. “I do not believe you.” He turned and ran with amazing speed for such a large creature.
Amanda pursued. She had no other choice. When she reached the place Cronin had been, she saw the reason he had sped up with such ease. The hill sloped downward. There was no trail; only a rocky decline. The Nix was too stupid to realize ankles could be broken with one misstep.
She danced rock to rock, ala
rmed at how far ahead the Nix was already. “Ace!”
By the time she reached the bottom and found a trail leading along one of the river tributaries, she was too tired to yell for her brother. He called out to her infrequently, farther away each time.
You must run faster. Kevin would run faster. Even Arthur, as big as he is, would run. They would both run for Ace. She wondered if they were running after her now. Kevin had looked troubled when she saw him in the military unit here on Brookhaven. Had he simply followed his ambition and given up on the twins? What would Arthur do if he found out? Family and honor always came first in the Connelly code.
Amanda knew she could never catch the Nix warrior.
She chased him anyway, looking for an opportunity to free her twin.
36
Ford
MELANIE Ford knew she was up to the charade. Her boss, however, was a shit actor.
“You may retire to your quarters,” Admiral Danzig Robedeaux said.
“Yes, Admiral,” Ford said. The vitriol in her tone caused several of the bridge crew to stare at their workstations. “As you please, Admiral.”
“I do please. To your quarters, XO,” he said, looking more ridiculous by the second.
“I am slamming this door,” she announced as she stood in the lift. One of the great indignities of having an argument in the SNC was that no door on a starship really slammed, or if it did, that meant the event would go unnoticed amidst all the other death and destruction of a ship coming apart under fire.
“Captain Roberts, make a note of Commander Ford’s attitude,” the admiral said.
“Consider it done,” Captain Roberts said, standing too tall.
Melanie wasn’t sure the man understood the order. His scatterbrained routine had to be an act, or he was a poor spy for the admiralty. She wasn’t used to him and never would be. Robedeaux would always be her captain, even if he was an admiral now.
She took the slow, indirect route to her quarters, passing through the officers’ mess, then wandering nearer the officers’ apartments.