by Jack Hanson
“So Clay, shall we show the Dominion they should have stayed in whatever blackness they found?” Ripper asked, flanking the five as they walked out into the night. The darkness was partially illuminated by the orange glow of the single burning building joined by many others.
“Our school,” moaned Jane, looking at the burning wrecks that were once dormitories and classrooms. “They did this… because of us?”
“If they did do it because of us, let’s go make them pay for it,” Paris said, mounting up in the back of the Rhino. The others followed suit, and Clay activated his headset while he started the engine.
“Archer?” he asked as he began to drive with the two Old Bloods making the steering wheel rumble in his hand as they kept pace.
“Black? What do you need?” Fletcher replied.
“How’s that trump card coming?” Clay said.
The old man sighed. “You play me too well, young man. They’ll be there, and maybe we’ll find out more about what the Dominion has been up to in its exile.”
“I’d like to know myself. I’ve got a suspicion, but that’s for later. What can you tell me about the situation? Are there troops on the ground here?” Clay asked as he drove for the front gates.
“There’s heavy urban fighting in Alarius, and troops are beginning to be air dropped onto the grounds,” Fletcher told him. “Not in any sort of numbers behind our walls – the anti-aircraft systems saw to that.”
As if to give support to the last statement, the loud thump of one such gun sent glowing shells skyward.
“So where’s the enemy?” Clay asked.
“Landing outside the gates it seems. They’ve dropped some larger machines outside of the range of our AA, troops are hitting the ground right on our doorstep now. It’s a good thing they took my recommendation years ago and built these things as garrisons as well.”
“Fighting positions out there?” Clay asked.
“Indeed… Ah, and our surprise is five minutes out apparently. Hiding in the shadow of the moon for now, but let them get themselves lower into our gravity well, and they’ll have to stand and fight,” Fletcher said, relish creeping into his voice.
“Do they know what they’re walking into?” Clay said.
“They do… and they know the surprise you’re bringing as well,” Fletcher told him.
“How’d they take it?” Clay asked as the whine of a plane swooping overhead made him duck. He saw the almost fragile profile of a Raider above him, tilting its wings before tearing off to some battle. “Paris!” he shouted.
“Sir!” said Paris, scanning the skies.
“Anything that you don’t recognize, you put some holes in it! I have lived through too much to be swatted on the ground!” Clay ordered him.
“Of course!” Paris said.
“Archer, you there?” Clay asked.
“Of course, just listening to you barking at your troops. Are they ready, Black?” asked Fletcher.
“No baptism like a baptism of fire,” said Clay, gunning it as they saw the gates ahead, beginning to open for them. “Your doing, old man?”
“Of course, plus I don’t think that Lancer you’re traveling with is going to stop for something like a wall,” murmured Fletcher. Looking ahead, Clay could see the projected arrows on the ground; massive things that let those ahead know where a Lancer was going to charge. “Good luck, my boy. God be with you. I’m going to monitor the battle from here,” he said fondly.
“Are you safe?” Clay asked, already knowing the answer.
“Safer than you,” Fletcher said with a dry chuckle, and then closed the connection.
“We’re thirty seconds out! Get ready to dismount,” Clay shouted over the roar of the engine.
“Stay behind me!” ordered Brokehorn, beginning to outpace the vehicle. “They’ve deployed some sort of weapon. I’m going to ram it!”
“See what it is first!” bellowed Ripper, lowering his head to keep up with his comrade. Brokehorn didn’t respond. Thrusters opened on the rear plate of his armor, helping him surge forward. The group watched him head for the gates, following a few seconds behind before they entered the storm of war.
Jane watched with awe as he shattered through two manufactured bunkers that she assumed had been air-dropped into the battle space. Whatever was inside was churned into red paste. Brokehorn aimed himself for an armored beast as large as Ripper, but with four legs supporting a wide, broad torso. Each leg ended in a series of wicked talons, and the blunt, wide head of the blue-scaled creature was full of teeth. It had been armored in the way of the Old Bloods, but crew manned the weapons, and seemed to direct the beast as well.
A bright wall of energy flashed between the two at the moment of impact, sending Brokehorn flying, ripping off a rocket pod and disabling the Triceratops. With fluid speed the creature moved over to the fallen lancer and struck twice with monstrous claws, ripping away the armor and exposing the underbelly. Its head raised in all too familiar motion, about to drive those long fangs into the tender flesh.
It staggered as something exploded against its shields, the kinetic energy of the missile knocking it backwards and away from Brokehorn. Ripper had fired his rail gun at the enemy war beast, and let out a roar of challenge that was so loud it shook Sand’s fillings. Rockets and the heavy machineguns Ripper wore crashed into its shields as Brokehorn got to his feet, the Bladejaw buying time for his friend. Ripper’s own shields activated as the gunners on the monster returned fire.
Jane was so taken aback by the sight of the lashing tails and the two Old Bloods dueling with the Illurian creature that she barely took in the rest of the battlefield. There were plenty of downed vehicles she didn’t recognize burning brightly, and the forward infantry fighting positions outside of Ganymede had been smashed. Her tactical lines were beginning to activate though, and she could begin to piece together a way to win this.
“Okay, let’s…” Clay began, and then stopped as his headset activated again.
“Black, you need to get to the shelter right now,” said Fletcher.
“What?” asked Clay sharply, not wanting to leave his cadets out here on their own.
“The Illurians sent troops down to the shelter. They’re apparently being led by Neurals,” Fletcher told him.
“They sent Thought Police down there?” Clay asked, his eyes widening. “Fine, I’ll go.”
“You’re in charge,” he said, turning to Jane. They ducked as artillery fire exploded around their position.
“Me?” she gaped, her eyes wide under her mask. “Where are you going?!”
“Looks like they’re taking the gloves off, they sent their Neurals after the younger cadets. Whatever they have planned, it’s not going to be nice,” Clay said hurriedly.
The group all stirred at the mention of the so called Illurian ‘Thought Police.’ They can get inside of your skull and make you put a gun to your head and pull the trigger, if you weren’t careful. What they had planned for unarmed cadets wasn’t too hard to imagine after Clay’s stories of genetic manipulation.
Jane swallowed, nodding, and finally accepted the burden of leadership.
“Go on, we’ll win this battle,” she promised over the roaring of the two Old Bloods in the background. “FOSsils, dismount!”
She leapt out of the Rhino, the others following suit.
Clay looked down at them, and nodded once.
“You’ve come a long way Epsilon, and right now, you don’t need me here. Go and show them,” he said, jutting his chin at the enemy, “Go and show them why our own people feared us so much they had to bury our memory.”
He snapped off a salute, holding it until they returned it with no little amount of surprise. There were no more words to be said, and he turned the Rhino sharply, leaving the four FOSsils standing there, three of them looking expectantly at Jane.
&nb
sp; “What now?” asked Paris as he raised his communications suite and began to patch into the radio traffic. He was angry at himself for not thinking of it earlier.
Jane was silent for a moment, surveying the battlefield. The Old Bloods were holding off the forces responsible for the wreckage of the forward fighting positions, but she could see troops were being dropped off in the distance as well. Furthermore, there was a low scale melee conflict in a depression to the west, where a towering figure was hacking down the enemy soldiers thrown against him. She could also see where there were clumps of survivors the Illurian beast had isolated, and some of them were being rounded up and herded to the enemy lines.
Her plan crystallized as what she knew of her team was, for now, more important than the enemy intelligence she should have had.
“This is what we’re going to do. Paris, it looks like Pairna is holding the entire western flank by himself. Go and help him with that. Once you’ve secured it, let me know so I can start reinforcing you,” she said.
He went to say something, then shook his head.
“Right, I’ll let you know if anything interesting comes through,” he told her.
“Of course you will,” she said, watching him turn, wondering idly if she had sent him away too soon.
“Salem, how are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’m ready for this. How are you feeling?” Salem asked Jane.
“I’ll be honest, I wish Clay had stayed around, but I can handle this,” Jane admitted. “I need you to go and gather the survivors. Your armor is the only one with a built-in mirror cloak, and you have your own talents to back that up. Run them back here, deal with any capture parties as you see fit, and then get back to me.”
Salem looked at her for a moment, as if considering what to say, and then finally spoke up.
“You’ve come a long way, girl,” she admitted, and then tapped her helmet against Jane’s in a sign of fondness before activating her mirror cloak and vanishing from their sight and their sensors.
It was just Jane and Sand left, and she looked at the smallest, but conceivably deadliest member of their team.
“Sand, I’m going to have to send you into the teeth of things alone,” Jane said.
“Clay told me we were built for punishment,” said Sand.
She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, giving him a shake. “You are not him. Don’t get into battles he wouldn’t fight, Sand. I’m not going to stop you from writing your history in blood, but you have to be alive to do it,” she said.
He reached up to grab her hand and gave it a squeeze, a little of the neuronium feedback seeping through as a growl whispered in her ears.
“I know, but I’m telling you that I can handle whatever you have for me,” he assured her.
“Good. Now what I need you to do is go rescue those prisoners they’ve taken. I don’t know what they’ve got planned, but it can’t be pleasant. We came here for our classmates, so we need to make sure they get home,” said Jane.
Sand looked over his shoulder, and could see where Jane’s tactical line was projecting for him to go into the heart of the enemy landing zone. His hands squeezed tightly around his rifle, and he nodded once.
“I can do this,” Sand said, and took off at a brisk run into the heart of things.
* * *
Jane took a moment to gather herself, and then turned up the volume on the radio, trying to figure out what was going on. It seemed to be coming down to the fact that they were an infantry force fighting against a mechanized force, and they were low on anti-vehicle munitions. They had wounded the enemy when they made their first attack; that was evident from the burning wrecks that littered the field. Even from here she could see the low hulks in the distance, her helmet’s visor automatically zooming in and expanding the images it captured. There was no known type listed. The only information was that it had a probable chance of being an armored personnel carrier or a tank of some sort.
Swallowing her fear, she activated her radio and entered the communication net. “Where’s the Six Element?” Jane asked, activating the override on her suit to shut down all other traffic for a moment.
“This is Ganymede Five; the Six isn’t in the field. Who are you?” asked an aged voice in response.
“This is Kaiserina Three,” said Jane as she commanded her armor to triangulate the position of the sender. In a second, she had a glowing dot on her radar, and began to jog to it.
“I’ll believe it when I see it. We received word from the League of Silence that FOSsils were being deployed, but I’ll warn you now, it’s been decades since I’ve seen a FOSsil on the field of battle but I haven’t forgotten the sight. If you’re an impostor, I will shoot you where you stand,” the man warned her.
She was already approaching the position her radar had located for her, and keyed off her mike as she came closer to the fabricated bunker. It was a wall that curved around, with firing ports for anyone who would attack. A command cost had been set up there, with several different specialists monitoring radio traffic, plotting maps, and trying to get a handle on the situation, along with several members of what Jane assumed was an honor guard. As she approached they turned, and activity slowly came to a halt.
“Ganymede Five, does this look like a FOSsil to you?” Jane asked. She slung her assault rifle and drew her dreamblade with a flourish. Two of his honor guard raised their rifles but Five element slapped the barrels down, waiting expectantly. Jane focused, and the blade flowed before their eyes, becoming the elegant weapon she had crafted before.
“A dreamblade,” said the Five. “Good enough for me, Kaiserina. I’m Strike Major Hayes. Have you been briefed on the situation? What’s your take on things?”
Jane was suddenly dizzy, that this veteran of so many wars was asking her for advice. Clearing her thoughts, she took a deep breath.
“Somewhat. It looks like they’re massing another mechanized attack, and I’m hearing on the radio that you’re low on anti-tank weaponry?” Jane asked.
“Correct. We were hoping to use the Old Bloods in that role, but they’re currently tied up dealing with whatever monstrosity the Illurians threw at us,” Hayes said. He motioned with a hand at the battle that was raging still, with Brokehorn and Ripper trying to pin the beast between Ripper’s jaws and the lancer’s horns. She could see where blood had been drawn on both of them, but it looked like the crew on the Illurian creature had been dealt with. It too, bled from wounds, and she could see it attempt to use its tail as a club on Ripper.
The Bladejaw caught it in his mouth and yanked his head hard, sending a rain of gore into the air as the monster wailed in pain. The beast whipped its serpentine head around, only to be gored deeply in its flanks by the Lancer, who sank its good horn up to the hilt in his enemy. The attachment on the shattered horn became apparent to Jane as a beam of light punched clear through to the other side of the creature. It was some sort of massive energy shotgun, sending chunks of charred flesh through the air as the enemy creature died. It fell with a whump that shook the ground. The two Old Bloods mounted their fallen foe, each placing one claw on its body, and roared their triumph to the stars.
Their celebration quickly became background noise. Jane had her own problems to worry about, and she turned back to Major Hayes.
“I have faith that they’ll be there for us when we need it. I’ve deployed my own assets accordingly,” Jane replied with more confidence than she felt.
“Your own assets?” the Major asked.
“Yes, there are four of us on the field tonight,” Jane said. This brought a low murmur from some of the older troops, who shook their heads.
“Do you mind if I ask what assignments you’ve given the others?” asked the Major with more than a bit of respect.
“They are… They are shoring up the west flank, rounding up survivors, and rescuing any prisoners,”
said Jane.
“Sounds about right,” said the Major offhandedly, as if she had not sent four people to do a battalion’s worth of work. “We could use your help coordinating where to send our forces next.” Major Hayes motioned at a table, and she looked at the setup, nodding.
“I think I can help,” Jane said.
Chapter Twenty Four—Through the Crucible
We gave you the stars, and you betrayed us, we who raised you from the chaos and savagery you had mired yourself in. This time, we will not make the mistake of giving you your freedom when we break you to the lash.
—Message from the Illurian Dominion, broadcast to Ganymede III during the invasion
Paris didn’t notice the weight of his rifle as he jogged. He could see the battle from where he had been standing with Jane, and it hadn’t taken long before he was on the top of the hill, looking over the field where Pairna stood tall in full thrombium armor with his rai’lith braced on the ground. His half cloak had been ripped and rent, and he was covered in gore, but none of it seemed to belong to him. Indeed, there was a pile of corpses around him, and bodies lay everywhere in that butcher’s valley.
Paris was about to call out a greeting when he heard a whistling, a high pitched scream from the skies that took him a second to place. When he did, he shouted for Pairna to get down, but the artillery was already impacting. Even on top of the hill, it knocked Paris off his feet, sending up a cloud of dust and making bodies tumble through the air. His armor compensated for the noise, dampeners activating to drown it out. Bits and pieces of arms and legs rained on top of him, streaking his armor with gore. Standing up, he was glad to see that none of the limbs had scales.