Markov's Prize

by Mark Barber

  Tahl and Van Noor rounded another tight corner and saw the two Ghar troopers at the end of the alleyway, their scourer cannons pointed up at the rooftops above them as Rall’s troopers poured down fire from above.

  “Wait ‘til I’m close enough and then give ‘em everything you’ve got!” Tahl patted Van Noor on the shoulder before sprinting off down the alleyway toward the open street ahead.

  Van Noor brought his carbine up to his shoulder and aimed to the left of Tahl, waiting until the strike captain was only a yan or so away from the enemy. Van Noor fired, sending a series of carefully aimed shots into the flank of the nearest Ghar. The fire from the rooftops had done its job – Tahl closed into contact without having to face the ferocious firepower of the enemy. Van Noor watched as the strike captain planted a foot on the Ghar trooper’s knee and propelled himself up to slam a fist into the fighting machine’s head, tearing it off the neck joint, and sending it crashing to the ground in a cloud of electrical sparks. Blinded, the Ghar trooper thrashed around frenziedly until a series of powerful kicks from Tahl crumpled one of the machine’s kneejoints. Seeing the second trooper moving in toward Tahl, Van Noor shouted out a warning and sprinted along the alleyway, firing as he ran.

  At that moment, a Duke transport drone crested a mound of rubble behind the undamaged Ghar and ploughed into it, crumpling against the armored bulk and tearing two of its three legs off. The one legged Ghar lay helplessly on its back, its limbs thrashing pathetically like an upturned beast as it attempted to roll over. Rall and his troopers dropped down from the rooftop, quickly and efficiently planting plasma grenades on both damaged Ghar to dispatch them as the Duke’s doors opened, allowing Vias and Squad Denne to jump out.

  “Well timed,” Van Noor nodded to Vias, “although I doubt the damage to the front of that Duke will polish out.”

  “It did the job, Senior,” Vias nodded.

  “Quickly, get back in the alleyway!” Tahl ordered the two squads. “The three Ghar at the far end of the street will shrug off those x-launchers before long! This is the only opening we’re likely to get. Follow my marker.”

  ***

  Owenne watched the battlespace evolve through numerous real time feeds from drones scattered across the city. The Concord forces continued to advance eastward, with the 44th Strike Formation punching through at the center, whilst the remainder of the 17th Assault Force closed in around the north and south. Ghar resistance was fierce, and frustratingly, the MAA and their Freeborn mercenaries continued to harry the attack from the rear.

  The battery of x-howitzers behind Owenne boomed again, lobbing huge projectiles up to arc through the smoke filled sky and rain down on the Ghar forces ahead. Owenne allowed himself a smile as he saw a small mass of blue emblems on his mini-map advancing to within visual range of the archive building. Tahl’s company was front and center, leading the way to Owenne’s objective.

  He glanced up at the sky, expecting the Ghar relief force to arrive at any moment. The latest intelligence reports had the Ghar still nearly two days away, putting the Concord forces ahead of schedule for seizing the vital building. However, the advance had come at great cost, and those companies which were still intact were made up of only a handful of men and women each. But it would be worth it. It had to be, after all this.

  Returning his attention to battlespace management, Owenne directed a trio of C3M4 combat drones from his reserves to fill a gap in his line to the northwest of the city where Ghar resistance was at its fiercest, whilst simultaneously shifting the aim of his x-howitzer barrage to follow the retreat of enemy forces to the south of the center. From that direction, a company from the 201st Strike Formation advanced steadily behind a line made up of four T7s, flanked by a pair of M4s, shrugging off streams of fire from lugger guns and scourer cannons as they moved forward. Satisfied that the objective was well within his grasp, Owenne ordered a C3T7 transport drone to divert to his location so that he could relocate to the frontline. Given the casualties his force had suffered, any Ghar reinforcements would make holding the planet untenable. The archives were only minutes away, but even being so close, Owenne knew that time was running out.

  Chapter Twenty

  Pariton City Center

  Capital City

  Markov’s Prize

  L-Day plus 68

  Plasma fire from Squad Denne and Squad Jai swept across the square in front of the archive building, blasting an old statue of a city councilor in half at the waist before pelting against the four Ghar battlesuits which stood at the corner of the building. The twenty or so Outcasts scattered as the fire came, two or three being gunned down before they could react, whilst the others ran for cover. The return fire from the four armored troopers was swift, and Tahl felt the now familiar feedback of fear and the void of death as one of Rall’s troopers was cut down.

  “Bry!” Tahl called across to Van Noor as he ducked back down below the burnt out roadcar at the edge of the square. “Get me fire support, anything you can – zero it in on those battlesuits and the main entrance.”

  “Understood,” Van Noor nodded before setting up two markers to form a firing line for whatever fire support he could muster.

  “Command from Teal!” Strike Leader Yavn called in. “We’ve got five battlesuits and one of those command crawlers moving in on our position, south of you at marker delta!”

  Tahl’s eyes widened at the report of the enemy strength.

  “Teal from Command, fall back, do not engage directly. If you can lead them away from my position then do so, but your prioirity is to protect your squad – how copied?”

  Tahl waited desperately for a response as another wave of fire punched a line of holes in the metal of the vehicle he lay behind.

  “Teal copied,” a breathless reply finally came, “we’ll lead them away from you.”

  A line of explosions rippled along Van Noor’s markers, ploughing across the top of the Ghar battlesuits by the corner of the target building. Tahl nodded in approval as he saw the lumbering war machines slow to a near stop, pivoting in place in confusion as the suspensor net shells suppressed their mobility.

  “Bry, get Squad Wen up here for more firepower,” Tahl ordered Van Noor. “Keep these bastards occupied, I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  “Where the hell are you going?” Van Noor demanded from where he laid a few paces to the right.

  “I’m moving around the back of the building to find another way in. I’m going to go and get Owenne’s files so we can fall back again.”

  “Not on your own you’re not,” Van Noor ducked down as a salvo of solid projectiles rattled across the top of the car from the lugger guns of the Outcasts by the main entrance to the archive building. “I’m coming with you.”

  “I need you to control this firefight,” Tahl argued. “I need you in command. Wait here!”

  Tahl seized the opportunity to run to the right and vault over Van Noor as soon as he saw a gap in the firing, sprinting headlong for a narrow road which curved around the right hand side of the building and away from the four Ghar fighting machines. He cursed under his breath as Van Noor leapt up and ran after him.

  “Vias, you’re in command here!” Van Noor transmitted. “Get Rhona’s squad set up to your left and keep ‘em busy until we’re back!”

  “Understood, Senior.”

  The two troopers narrowly evaded the sporadic fire which followed them to the edge of the building. Tahl led Van Noor along the sandy colored wall, stopping by a smaller, more subtle entrance. He waited by the right hand side of the door and nodded to Van Noor to take position and prepare for entry. As soon as Van Noor stopped by the door, a hail of gunfire smashed against both strike troopers. Tahl felt the impact of solid projectiles slamming against his armor. He dropped to one knee and brought his carbine up to his shoulder, centering his sights on half a dozen twinkling muzzle flashes in the entrance to an alleyway opposite them. He fired a long burst on scatter, sending streams of plasma fire through the
Outcasts crowded by the entrance, dropping two and blasting apart the brickwork around them before the survivors fled out of sight.

  He turned to look at Van Noor. His friend sat crumpled and motionless against the wall, spatters of blood on the sandy stonework behind him and the pavement below. Tahl let out a cry of panic and dashed over.

  “Cover,” Van Noor wheezed, “get… cover…”

  Clipping his carbine to his back, Tahl grabbed Van Noor underneath both arms and dragged him up to the door, leaving a smeared trail of blood behind. He scanned his friend’s suit readouts and suppressed a howl of anguish – one lung collapsed, massive internal trauma. Even with his suit’s attempts to stabilize, Van Noor would be dead within the hour.

  “I’m going to lift you, mate,” Tahl said. “This’ll hurt, but I’ve got to get you out of here. We’ve got to fall back.”

  “Cover,” Van Noor whispered, “get…inside…”

  To amplify his point, a wave of plasma fire carved chunks out of the stonework around him as a trio of Ghar battlesuits appeared at the east end of the building. Tahl wasted no time in dragging Van Noor inside, praying that there was nothing waiting for him in the corridor as he helplessly backed into the uncleared building. Van Noor tensed up and tried unsuccessfully to suppress cries of pain as Tahl continued to drag him, moving quickly away from the doorway as the relentless enemy fire continued to blast the building’s entrance apart.

  “I’ll get you to the front door!” Tahl said as he frantically looked around to orientate himself and work out which way he needed to go to get back to his company. “Our guys will have suppressed those suits by now. I’ll get you straight out of the front door and we’ll get you patched up.”

  As if in response, Tahl backed through a wooden door and saw a rabble of Outcasts at the far end of the corridor. He quickly fired a pair of explosive projectiles from his wrist-mounted x-sling, one into the enemy soldiers and another into the roof to collapse the ceiling and block off the corridor.

  “Running… out of… options…” Van Noor slurred.

  “You’re stable, pal!” Tahl lied as he tried another corridor. “We’ve got a little time, just keep it together!”

  ***

  The nozzle of his carbine hissed and steamed as Sessetti fired another three aimed shots at one of the Ghar suits by the main entrance to the archive building. Another wave of the seemingly suicidal Outcasts was pouring down a street from the north, ignoring the lines of fire which cut into their ranks from Squad Jai as they ran. Swearing under his breath, Sessetti fired another shot, and then another – finally he was rewarded for his persistence as the armor of the hulking machine gave way and a neat hole was punctured dead center over the operator’s position; the suit locked up rigidly and toppled over.

  “Have that, you bastard,” Sessetti exhaled, instantly taking aim on another Ghar trooper and ignoring the heavy volume of fire which came his way in return.

  “Squad Wen! Targets left of marker beta! Fire!” Rhona ordered from where she lay prone in the center of the squad, shifting the squad’s focus to the rapidly approaching wave of Outcasts.

  The combined fire of the three squads of strike troopers tore into the advancing rabble of Ghar soldiers, knocking down Outcast after Outcast. Their numbers thinning and their bulk now seeming almost harmless in comparison to what it was only seconds before, the last few Outcasts continued to charge across the open ground until they were shot dead only paces from the Concord line.

  “Dammit!” Varlton growled. “They’re going into the archive building! Those battlesuits are going inside!”

  “Shoot them! Shoot the bastards!” Rhona yelled.

  ***

  Only minutes away from the archives, Owenne allowed himself a slight grin from where he sat alone in the passenger hold of the T7 transport drone. He watched the battle unfold intently from his web of spotter drones as his flanks held and the central push stood firm at the very steps of the archive building. It had worked. They had reached the target before the Ghar reinforcements had even reached high orbit. Finally, after years of chasing countless dead ends across so many light years of space, Owenne had found something. He was going to make a contribution which would be remembered for centuries.

  “Owenne, it’s Tahl,” Tahl’s voice sounded urgent, nearly panicked, certainly not the tone he had come to expect from the veteran soldier. “I’m in the archives with Bry. He’s wounded, I need help. I need you to get me out of here.”

  “Where abouts in the archives are you?” Owenne demanded.

  “The…I’m in the archives themselves. We’re surrounded. Both exits are blocked and we’ve got enemy units closing in on us.”

  “Can you see the archives themselves?” Owenne said. “The files? Can you see the actual files?”

  “Yes! There’s thousands of them! But Bry hasn’t got much longer, and if you don’t clear a path to me, I’m gone as well!”

  “Get the file, Ryen,” Owenne demanded.

  “There isn’t time! We’ve got minutes at best! Get a medical drone up here now and punch a path open to us!”

  Owenne sank forward in his chair, closed his eyes, and rested his face in his hands. Ignoring Tahl’s repeated demands for help, he reviewed his options. He could get a medical drone across easily enough, but given the reports he was receiving regarding the strength of enemy forces in the area, he did not favor his odds. A lightning punch through, seize the objective, and get out; that was the only way this would work. He was losing the initiative, and every minute that his forces were bogged down exchanging fire with superior Ghar forces would see his casualties increase and Ghar reserves pour into the area, now that they knew what he was after.

  He would lose. This close, after all this, and Owenne would lose. Worse still, the information could fall into Ghar hands, or even to the Freeborn. That would be a disaster he could not allow to happen. A dozen outcomes, each with different probabilities to calculate and what the effect would be if they materialized, passed through Owenne’s brain in a fraction of a second. His choice was clear. He swore viciously in a cry of rage and slammed a fist into the side of the transport drone.

  “Cian Battery, from Mandarin,” Owenne opened a channel to the nearest artillery battery. “Sending you coordinates now, concentrated fire. Make it accurate.”

  ***

  “Get…out of here,” Van Noor looked up at Tahl, his voice barely audible, “go.”

  “Shut up, you idiot, I’m thinking!” Tahl snapped.

  The central archive storage was a cavernous room with graceful arches, their angles lit up by sunlight which poured through tall windows and a green tinted, domed skylight. Row after row of grey, metal shelving units formed ugly, clinical lines across all three floors of the archive room. The main entrance to the room had already been destroyed by a brief exchange of gunfire between Tahl and two battlesuits which had somehow squeezed through the corridors, and another volley of explosives from his x-sling had ensured that that route would not be used again any time soon, in or out.

  “Finish the bloody…mission,” Van Noor said as blood flowed from one side of his mouth. “Get out of here.”

  “If you don’t stop that valorous sacrifice crap, I’ll shoot you myself,” Tahl snarled, looking up at the skylight.

  ***

  Her fists clenched in frustration, Rhona watched as her squad’s fire only succeeded in slowing the two Ghar battlesuits which had just arrived from the east. With four dead troopers and their firepower reduced, the three squads of strike troopers had formed three sides of a square by the collapsed main entrance to the archive building and were fighting off a growing number of Ghar who arrived from the east. Four battlesuits to the left, another wave of Outcasts from the south, and nobody knew now many of the enemy had managed to get inside the building.

  “We’ve got to go in!” Rhona transmitted to the other two strike leaders. “The boss and the senior are in there! We’ve got to get them out!”

 
“How?” Rall demanded. “We’re pinned in place! We’re fighting for our own survivial here! We’re doing all we can for them by digging in and holding out instead of running!”

  Another barrage of plasma fire cut across Squad Wen’s position and Meibal was thrown back, smoking holes cut across her torso. Varlton dived across to her and dragged her away from the firing line before checking her injuries.

  “She’s good, she’s alright,” he reported, “just superficial!”

  “We need to storm that building!” Rhona urged the other two squad leaders again, a sickening clawing at her gut as she thought of Tahl surrounded on all sides by a remorseless enemy.

  “Feon’s right,” Vias said. “We’re barely holding on ourselves here, we’re not in any position to mount an attack!”

  At that moment, Rhona felt the sickening sensation amplify a thousand times as a series of artillery cooridinates were transmitted to a nearby battery, ordering fire directly down onto the archive building.

  “Cian Battery, Cian Battery!” Rhona yelled. “This is Beta Company Wen Leader! Check your fire! Check your fire! You’ve been given targeting coordinates of a friendly unit! Do not fire!”

  “Cian Battery from Mandarin,” Owenne’s voice came across the shard. “Your target is correct. Open fire as ordered.”

  “No!” Rhona screamed. “Do not fire! That’s friendlies! Don’t fire!”

  “Stand down, Strike Leader!” Owenne growled. “I’m in…”

  “Don’t you fire, you murdering bastard!” Rhona yelled. “Don’t…”

  She felt her connection to the company shard suddenly severed. The mandarin had actually cut her off. He was going to kill his own men. For whatever this was all about, whatever was in that building, he was going to kill his own people. Ignoring the cries of alarm from her troopers, willing the enemy fire not to hit her, Rhona sprinted across the open ground toward the archive building.