The Complete Void Wraith Saga

by Chris Fox

  “We’re out of time for finesse. Use this,” Nolan tossed a block of plastique, and Hannan caught it out of the air. “Drop it down there, but don’t detonate until I give the word.”

  “What do you have in mind, sir?” Hannan asked. She kept her rifle trained on the hole.

  “No time to explain. Just switch to your internal oxygen supply, and press that detonator when I give the word.”

  The planetstrider went into free fall again, slamming Nolan against the glass. He lay prone against the viewport, watching with growing horror as one of the other planetstriders wound up a leg for a kick to the face. The limb sailed toward them, but was knocked aside at the last instant by a metal claw.

  “I’m feeling kind of outnumbered, sir. These things are pretty pissed off, too. Got any ideas?” Edwards asked.

  “Just keep them off you as long as possible. Lena?” Nolan rolled off the window, and back to his feet. Hannan had already recovered, and was watching the hole.

  “We’re ready for warp, Captain,” Lena yelled, looking up from her terminal.

  “Do it!” Nolan ordered.

  The air shimmered and folded around them, distance stretching endlessly in all directions. The vertigo was powerful, but brief. When it faded, Nolan was floating, suddenly weightless. Through the window he could see the tail end of a space battle playing out.

  Hull fires glistened on a smattering of ships, each drifting through a field of debris. Fighters still engaged each other, but the battle between capital ships was largely over. It looked like the Coalition forces had lost.

  “Hannan, punch that detonator.” Nolan was focused on finding a way out of this mess, but before he could do that they needed to deal with their guests.

  Hannan depressed the red button with her thumb, and something flashed below. A wave of force and flame rushed into the room, knocking Nolan back into the window. Thankfully, their distance from the explosion protected them from the worst of it.

  “Captain, that stunt used over ninety percent of our oxygen. I don’t believe the oxygen scrubbers are efficient enough to compensate,” Lena warned. She floated a few feet away, crouched over the terminal where she’d been working.

  “That was the idea,” Nolan countered. “Those Saurians weren’t wearing EVA suits. They can’t rush our position, because we’ve got a choke point. And because they’re unexpectedly weightless. I imagine they’re already having trouble breathing.”

  “…Whereas we have a full two hours of oxygen. Clever, sir,” Hannan said. She peered carefully down the chute. “I don’t see any movement.”

  A thumping came from behind him, and Nolan spun to face the viewport. The thumping came again, someone pounding on the glass from outside.

  “Captain Nolan,” T’kon’s voice crackled over the comm. His armor was even more dented and scarred. “In the future, I would appreciate being apprised of such…tactics. It’s damned cold out here, and my armor is nearly out of power.”

  “Sorry about that, T’kon. Glad to see you survived.”

  “A near thing. What you have done, I would not have thought possible.” He gestured expansively behind him at the battle playing out.

  “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Hey, Edwards, you still with us?” Nolan asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Edwards said over the speakers.

  “How about you convince your new friend to blow the shit out of the enemy fleet? Let’s see how they like being shot by a planetstrider.”

  “Yes. SIR.”

  60

  Holy Crap

  Burke surveyed the ragged survivors, huddling together in the ship’s cargo bay. Aluki and Sissus had headed to the cockpit. It turned out the little Whalorian was a pilot, in addition to being a mechanic. He’d never worked with aliens before, and he had to admit that she was a lot more useful than he’d have assumed when he first met her.

  The only empty space in the cargo bay was near Annie. She sat on her mech’s foot, enjoying a swig from a dented metal flask. The Saurians gave her a wide berth.

  Burke grabbed the metal handle next to the ramp, peering through the grimy little window set in the center. Below, he saw a swath of tall mountains, taller than anything Earth could boast. Beyond lay the smoking remains of the city, but that faded rapidly as they began to ascend.

  The speed increased faster than the inertial compensators could deal with, and the gravity crushed him against the ramp. His cheek lay against the glass, and his view was obscured by a corona of flame from the cruiser’s engines.

  This was it. This was the moment they’d find out if they lived or died, if Nolan had found a way to disable the planetstrider. They gained altitude, and Burke squinted at the bones of the city below. He could see all three planetstriders, but curiously none of them were firing at the cruiser.

  They were…wait, were they fighting amongst themselves? Before he could see more, the cruiser broke lower atmosphere, and the city disappeared beneath a layer of dirty clouds. The pressure lessened, and the ship’s inertial compensators finally kicked in.

  “Mmm, we’re safe, for the moment.” Aluki’s voice echoed through the cargo hold. “I’ll let you know when they start trying to kill us again. We’ve got an escort of flying war machines. Hopefully that keeps us safe.”

  Her voice stopped, and the Saurians began whispering among themselves. Annie rose from her mech and moved to stand near Burke at the window. Nuchik saw her, and moved to join him as well. She kept a watchful eye on Annie, and Burke knew her well enough to know that scowl. Nuchik might be softening to Nolan, but she still seriously disliked Annie.

  “That was the roughest takeoff I’ve ever seen,” Nuchik said, quietly as always. She was even more subdued than usual, though that was probably true for all of them. She removed the leather tie from her hair, then retied her ponytail. “I’ve been thinking about it the entire way up. I just don’t get it. Why did Nolan stay behind? Why make sure we get off, with their equipment no less? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I don’t know.” Burke shook his head slowly. “I’ve been chewing on it, too. It’s against protocol, and I want to call it insubordination. Command’s role is clear. You send your soldiers in, you don’t do it yourself.”

  “Do you think he’s in it for glory?” Nuchik moved closer, peering through the dirty glass. Bright flashes were reflected in her eyes as the battle raged around them.

  “You know what? I don’t think he is. I got a good look at his face at the end there, right before we separated.” Burke replayed the memory. “He knew he wasn’t coming back. In the end, I think he stayed because he doesn’t believe anyone else can get the job done.”

  “That might be the first smart thing that’s come out of your mouth since we met,” came a drawl from behind.

  Burke glanced back to find Annie grinning at him.

  “See, you got to understand where the captain comes from. He’s been shafted, first by OFI, and then by our own goddamned brass. He’s seen everything come apart at the seams, and doesn’t much trust in government—old or new. Nolan stayed behind because he’s going to pull off some crazy-ass stunt that will win us this battle.”

  Burke looked back through the hatch window. The 1st had crumbled; the only ship left was the admiral’s. An enemy dreadnought was bearing down on her vessel, a second enemy ship coming up behind like it wanted a turn, too.

  The 2nd was in shambles, their anemic fire doing little to slow the enemy. A smaller ship angled in their direction, but the fighter escort broke off to engage. There were so few of them left.

  Burke turned back to Annie. “Nothing is going to win this battle.”

  “You don’t know the captain.” Annie chuckled. “While you two were getting all sappy about how much you love Nolan, I was monitoring comms. Take a look out the window, Burke.”

  Burke raised an eyebrow, then glanced out the window again. Nuchik was already doing the same, jaw open and eyes wide.

  A new ship had entered the fray, on
ly…it wasn’t a ship. A planetstrider had just warped in, a little ways off from the fleet. It raised its cannon, loosing a torrent of scarlet energy. Burke’s heart sank, and he assumed that Fizgig’s command vessel was about to be destroyed.

  She wasn’t the target. The blast hit the lead dreadnought, punching through its shields and carving a furrow of explosions along the side.

  “What the hell?” Burke muttered.

  “Told you.” Annie elbowed Burke, then wrapped an arm around Nuchik. “Don’t ever bet against the captain, ’cause he’ll always pull off something no one saw coming.”

  61

  Opportunity

  “Object appearing off starboard,” Juliard called, a klaxon sounding behind her.

  “I see it,” Fizgig growled. She rose stiffly, walking toward the holographic battle map. “Was this why they stopped firing—so their planetstriders could join the fight directly? Why? We were already about to die.”

  The planetstrider fired, and Fizgig blinked when the shot shredded the dreadnought bearing down on them. “Juliard, give me status on that vessel.”

  “Sir, their shields are down. Their hull is damaged. They have a good-sized hole along the aft side, and are leaking atmosphere. Wait, strike that. They’ve got some sort of energy membrane covering the damage,” Juliard explained, her face buried in her terminal.

  “Is their main cannon still operational?” Fizgig demanded, her gaze fixed on the vessel.

  “We believe so,” Juliard admitted.

  “Fleet-wide.”

  “You’re on, sir.”

  “All captains, this is Admiral Fizgig. That vessel is wounded, but its cannon is still operational. If it fires, my flagship will be destroyed. Fire everything you’ve got at that cannon. Take it down before it can fire.” Fizgig closed the connection. She returned to her chair, sinking wearily into the cushions.

  She wasn’t sure what she expected from her fleet. She had no idea how much ordnance they had left, and doubted it contained any theta cannon rounds.

  Gauss cannons, a few missiles, and two theta rounds streaked toward the enemy ship. Its shields were still down from the planetstrider’s attack, and the barrage tore into the barrel of the cannon, chewing enormous holes in the side. Then the cannon detonated spectacularly, and her bridge crew cheered.

  “Mighty Khar, do you yet live?” Fizgig asked, purring quietly.

  “Yes, Mighty Fizgig,” her protege growled back over the comm. “What do you require of me?”

  “Take your surviving booster mechs, and board their vessel. Savage it from the inside. Repay them in blood,” Fizgig demanded, giving in fully to her Tigris nature.

  “At once, Mighty Fizgig. We fight to the death,” Khar roared. His mechs streaked toward the wounded capital ship, streaming into the gap in the hull like shrike bats returning to a cave.

  “Open a channel to the planetstrider,” Fizgig ordered.

  “Uh, I’ll try,” Juliard offered. She tapped at her console, then blinked up at Fizgig. “We’ve got a response sir. It’s Captain Nolan’s ident.”

  “Nolan,” Fizgig said. Her purr deepened. “You are in charge of that planetstrider, yes?”

  “Hey, Admiral. Yes, we’re controlling it. Do you have a target for us, sir?”

  “Indeed I do. They have one dreadnought, largely intact. I will maneuver my flagship to keep their wounded between us, but if that dreadnought gets a clear shot, the Mendez will die. Fire continuously on that ship.”

  The Mendez limped away from the last functional dreadnought, angling to prevent it from getting a clear shot. If the dreadnought fired, they’d hit their own wounded ships in order to get to her.

  Given how brutal this commander had already been, though, Fizgig worried he’d do exactly that.

  “Sir, our thrusters are damaged,” Juliard said. “We’re too slow to keep this up for long.”

  “We don’t have to.” Fizgig leaned back into the cushions, smiling. The planetstrider fired again, and the last dreadnought lost its main gun. They finally had the upper hand.

  “Order all vessels to assault the most heavily damaged dreadnought,” Fizgig said calmly. “We’ll take them out one by one.” She licked the fur on the back of her wrist, and began to groom.

  It seemed that, once again, death had failed to find her.

  62

  Spite

  Events were spiraling out of Takkar’s control. If there were a shade darker than black, his fur had found it. How could Krekon have allowed himself to be killed by a puny, hairless primate? It made no sense.

  “Clan leader, the planetstrider has punctured the hull,” the techsmith whispered. She was as far away as she could get while still attending him. She clutched her arcanotome to her chest. “We’ve auto-sealed the breach, but a second shot might cause irreparable damage.”

  “What are you saying?” Takkar roared, stalking toward the Saurian.

  “O-only that retreat could be prudent.” The Saurian dove for the ground, pressing her cheek to the silver metal. Her grey robes covered her body completely, leaving a pathetically rumpled mound at his feet. “I meant no offense, Clan Leader.”

  “Indeed it could,” Takkar looked up at the battle, watching through the transparent hull. The enemy fighters had nearly reached them. “They’re going to board us. Have all elites move to battle stations. Alert the overseers that all labor-slaves must return to their quarters.”

  Takkar watched the Vkash’s Fury, his last fully intact dreadnought. It struggled to get a shot at the enemy flagship, but suddenly had bigger concerns. The planetstrider his enemies had somehow stolen fired upon the Fury, drawing a line of fire down the stern.

  Takkar picked up the techsmith, hurling her from the edge of the island. She plummeted to her death, the scream ending suddenly when she impacted several levels below.

  The next Saurian rushed forward from the edge of the island, bowing repeatedly as he approached. He carefully avoided Takkar’s gaze, and stank of fear.

  “Order all dreadnoughts to warp to Imperalis. Have the planetstriders moved as well.”

  “C-clan Leader, I have news about the planetstriders. One has sustained significant damage, inflicted by another planetstrider.”

  “Does it still possess the ability to warp?” he demanded.

  “Yes, Clan Leader.”

  “Then order it to warp. Spool up our warp drive as well. We are leaving this place.” Takkar had never given a retreat order. His father had never given such an order either. He had to go back three generations to find an ancestor who’d been defeated, and none had been so badly humiliated as he had here.

  A cluster of enemy mechs poured into his ship, flowing through the hole his own planetstrider had made. They fanned out, strafing the islands closest to the breach. Missiles and the strange energy weapons they used cut down the few defenders who tried to fight back.

  Takkar inhaled deeply, then began his transformation. He swelled in size, the mighty axe Yoggmoth growing with him.

  “Order the elites to begin hunting the enemy. I want their vessels disabled, but intact if possible. Bring any and all surviving pilots to me.”

  The enemy was bold, normally an admirable quality. Yet, in this, the enemy had miscalculated. He—whoever he was—couldn’t know that Takkar had several hundred elites on board.

  The enemy mechs were swift, but there were only a few dozen. They’d quickly be overwhelmed by his clan’s finest warriors.

  The deep whine of the ship’s warp engines gathered strength. Takkar glared hatefully at the enemy’s wounded flagship, burning the image into his mind before they warped away.

  63

  Overwhelmed

  Khar finished his strafing run, blowing apart half a dozen elites as fast as they emerged from an oval structure that looked more like a temple than barracks. It sat at the center of a floating island, one of hundreds that rotated slowly throughout the dreadnought’s interior.

  He swerved right to dodge the answering p
lasma fire, winging his way back toward the breach. His squadron completed the same circuit behind him, each making a run on elites. They enjoyed less success than they had against the fighters, though his mechs were still giving better than they got.

  “Mighty Khar, we are running low on ordnance,” Bessel cautioned. Ever the voice of reason.

  “Have you identified any structural vulnerabilities?” Khar asked, feathering his thrusters to avoid another stream of plasma fire. The elites were largely stationary, but they had impeccable aim.

  “Yes, Mighty Khar. There is a power plant in the heart of the ship, below those floating terraces.”

  Khar zoomed in the direction Bessel had indicated. The ship’s interior was truly bizarre. The whole thing was entirely open, lacking even a single bulkhead. If the ship had a breach, and that membrane failed, everyone on the ship would die. It was madness, a clear sign of just how arrogant these Ganog were.

  The command staff was probably on the top island, and the layout no doubt provided a magnificent view of the entire ship at once. A commander could see every level, and use the top of the ship as an observatory.

  It was the complete opposite of every ship developed by either Tigris or humanity. Primo used a more open plan, but even they put bulkheads between vulnerable sections of the ship. This vessel’s construction had involved more than metal; it had taken monumental arrogance to construct something this massive with that large a design flaw.

  Khar ducked under a terrace, rolling out of the way of more fire as he passed another group of elites. Below him were half a dozen more terraces, and below them something glowed brightly—brightly enough to be a reactor.

  “Khar, evacuate that vessel at once,” Fizgig’s voice broke over the comm, her normal dispassion stripped away. “They are beginning to warp.”