The weapons on every vehicle of the brigade opened up on the Kreelan line in a deafening barrage. The main guns of the tanks spewed flechette rounds that ripped the warriors to pieces dozens at a time, while the gatling guns on the tanks and personnel carriers killed more. Anti-personnel mortars from the tanks popped non-stop, lobbing the small but lethal grenades among the closest attackers, who disappeared in a string of detonations like the climax of a fireworks display.
Even some of the Marine infantry behind the Kreelan line, bravely or foolishly, rose from cover and began firing into the warriors, adding to the carnage.
It was a bloody massacre.
A small measure of what we owe you, Sparks thought. He had not a shred of compassion for the enemy. Were it in his power, he would have killed them all. Everywhere. Because he knew in his heart that would be the only way humanity would win this war. By extinction.
Still, he had to concede the enemy’s courage, or stupidity, in refusing to withdraw. Even against the hail of fire that cut them down by the dozens, a few warriors managed to get through. He watched with grim resignation as five of the lightning grenades sailed through the air. Three infantry fighting vehicles and two Wolverines died, consumed by cascades of electrical discharges that left the thick armor plating red hot and cooked the crews.
The firing trailed off, then stopped. It was over. Not because the Kreelans had broken and run, or because they had surrendered, but because there were none left to kill.
“Thank you, God.” Sparks surveyed the carnage before him, his eyes taking in the thousands of bodies, most of them enemy warriors, that littered the battlefield. Some were still whole, while others had been blown to pieces. The stench of flesh, blood, and shredded entrails would have been overpowering were it not for the acrid smoke pouring from the burning tanks and the reek of gun propellant that filled his nose.
One of the destroyed Wolverines cooked off, its ammunition exploding from the heat of the flames that consumed its interior. The heavy turret was blown from the hull to twirl twice in the air like a toy before it slammed into the ground, upside down.
Then another sound came, one he hadn’t heard before.
It was his Marines, the battered and weary survivors of this brief but desperate battle, who had gotten to their feet beyond the sea of dead Kreelans. Holding their weapons above their heads, they gave voice to the joy of their survival, to victory.
Sparks’s heart melted at their spirit, and at how few remained. While he had not lost many of the armored vehicles, the two Marine infantry regiments had been decimated. He guessed from those who were now standing that they’d lost at least half their strength. Nearly six thousand men and women, gone.
It had been a steep price to pay.
“But we won, by God,” Sparks whispered softly. He keyed his comm unit to reach his deputy in the command vehicle. “Get the medevacs in here.”
“Boats are inbound.” His deputy commander’s voice carried an edge that immediately worried Sparks. “But they’re not medevacs, general. The fleet’s under attack, and Admiral Voroshilov is sending the rest of the assault force down to us.” He paused. “Guadalcanal is also reporting that more enemy warriors are heading our way. Looks like multiple division strength from the number of landing craft heading toward us from some transports that just arrived in orbit.”
Sparks’s mouth compressed to a thin line under his mustache at the news as he watched infantry fighting vehicles moving toward the line of exhausted Marines to pick them up.
It would be a race between the remainder of his three divisions and the Kreelans. “Damn.”
A sudden crack from the direction of town made him look up. It was the unmistakable sound of a heavy rifle being fired. More shots rang out in short order.
The Marine infantry reacted instantly, diving to the ground and turning their weapons toward the sound.
That’s when they all noticed her. A solitary warrior, the one who had led the enemy charge and shielded the warriors like some sort of witch, stood behind the Marine line. Unmoving, still surrounded by a wall of dead Marines, she again seemed to be staring at Sparks.
He felt an unaccustomed tightness in his chest, a momentary prickling of needles around his heart.
Then she vanished.
* * *
Ku’ar-Marekh watched as Her Children died in a blaze of glory under the guns of the humans. The challenge posed by the armored vehicles was irresistible, regardless of the odds. Both the hunt and the devastation among the warriors hearkened back to the tales told in the Books of Time from before the Empire, when warriors hunted the wild genoth, the great dragons of the Homeworld. The ancient tales told of battles with the great beasts every bit as horrific as this, and she watched as thousands of warriors ran to their doom, the Bloodsong echoing the ferocity of their joy.
And for those few who survived long enough to attack the great metal machines, even Ku’ar-Marekh could sense their intensity of their ecstasy as they hurled their grenades, just before the humans released them from the bonds of this life.
Great was the glory these warriors had brought the Empress this day, Ku’ar-Markekh knew as the battlefield was lost to smoke and flame. She did not even notice the occasional projectile that immolated itself against the shield of her spirit.
At last, it was over. As the smoke gradually cleared, she saw the human warriors stand and voice a great war cry at their victory.
She looked at the animal she believed to be the leader of the human warriors, sensing the beat of his heart, feeling it in the grip of her mind. It would be so easy, she knew, to take the creature’s life.
But what glory would be given the Empress from such a trivial feat?
The loud report of a weapon sounded from the direction of the Kalai-Il, and she felt the Bloodsong tremble as two of her warriors died. More shots were fired, and more warriors died.
Casting her mind’s eye to the great stone edifice, she saw her human prizes in the central arena and watched as the last warriors guarding them perished.
Guiding her spirit through the nearby woods, then the human settlement, she quickly found the attacker. It was the large human warrior who carried the mark of Tesh-Dar, atop one of the buildings.
Sighing in satisfaction, the gesture more of habit than of any true feeling, Ku’ar-Marekh hoped that together the humans would pose a worthy challenge for her when the time came.
But satisfying her personal indulgence would have to wait a short time longer, for she could sense the approach of both the new warriors and the human reinforcements. All were converging here in what would be a glorious and mighty battle.
Closing her eyes, she focused her mind on the leading attack ship, then disappeared.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Mills was gasping with exhaustion as he ran through the woods, bearing the heavy sniper rifle. He prayed with every step that Valentina, Steph, and Allison were still alive, and that the warrior with the dead eyes had taken them for her own reasons and temporarily kept them safe. He wanted to believe that he would have known inside if they had been killed, but he had been a solider for far too long, and he knew it was only wishful thinking. Yet his heart told him they still lived, and he had to believe it was so. He had to.
“I’m not going to lose you.” The words were a ragged whisper through his lips, but were the focus of his entire being.
He ignored the continued roar of the battle now well behind him and instead concentrated on finding a clear view of the arenas and the huge stone construct.
Unable to find a good spot in the woods, he had to run even farther, praying that he didn’t blunder into any enemy warriors along the way as he circled to the edge of town nearest the arenas.
He needn’t have worried. The town was utterly deserted. He wove his way through the buildings until he was at the central communications exchange, which had a direct line of sight to the town square and the arenas.
Climbing up the service access ladder in the
rear, he low crawled on his belly to the mass of antenna supports at the center of the roof.
After unslinging the sniper rifle, he set out the spare magazines so they’d be in easy reach.
Putting the rifle’s scope to his eye and aiming in the direction of the arenas, he slowly, carefully, levered himself up along one of the antenna pedestals until he could just see over the parapet around the building’s flat roof.
“Thank you, Lord.” Relief flooded through him when he saw them all in the center arena, still alive. Steph was on her back, her head on Allison’s knees, and Mills grimaced at Steph’s blood-soaked leg. Valentina knelt next to them.
They were surrounded by a circle of nine warriors, who were standing at what Mills thought of as parade rest, their attention fixed on Valentina. Even with the thundering racket of the battle raging on the far side of the woods, they never flinched or took their eyes from her.
“They’ve got your number, love.” He grinned as he lined up the crosshairs on the chest of his first target, with another warrior right behind her.
He stroked the trigger, and the big rifle kicked against his shoulder as it fired.
* * *
Valentina happened to be looking right at one of the warriors when the Kreelan’s upper body exploded, her arms and head sailing away from the crimson spray that was all that remained of her torso. From the corner of her eye, she saw the warrior who stood beside the first one crumple to the ground, a fist-sized hole in her abdomen.
A deafening crack followed, and Valentina recognized the sound of a sniper rifle. Part of her wanted to turn and see where the firing was coming from, but she had more important things to attend to.
The other warriors reacted instantly. Three of them bolted toward the sound of the firing, while the other four closed in around Valentina. Before they moved more than a pace, she darted forward and pried the sword from the amputated arm of the sniper rifle’s first victim.
Another shot rang out, and the warrior who was closest to Valentina died.
Turning back toward Steph and Allison, Valentina leaped forward, raising her sword in time to block an overhand cut by another warrior aimed at Allison. Valentina let her momentum carry her forward, slamming her body into the alien and knocking her off the stone dais and onto the sands of the arena. The Kreelan’s sword went flying, landing a few paces away.
As Valentina rolled to her feet, the big rifle fired again, and two of the warriors heading for the sniper’s position exploded in a fountain of gore.
“Valentina!” Allison’s scream sent an electric shock through Valentina’s heart as a warrior grabbed the girl by the hair and stabbed down with her sword, the tip aimed at the juncture of the girl’s neck and shoulder.
“No!” Valentina cried as the warrior she had just knocked to the ground sank her claws into Valentina’s leg and dragged her down.
Allison’s scream ended as the Kreelan’s head disappeared in a spray of blood and bone, followed by the now-comforting sound of the sniper rifle’s thunder. The blade of the alien’s sword grazed Allison’s neck as the dead warrior crumpled to the stone dais behind her.
With a roar of fury, Valentina smashed her foot into the face of the warrior who still had her claws in Valentina’s calf muscle. Then Valentina twisted up on one knee and with both hands drove her sword into the alien’s chest, the glittering blade easily slicing through the black armor, pinning the warrior to the sand.
The fourth warrior who was moving in to attack screamed in agony as the rifle fired again. She only had time to look down and see that one of her legs was gone before she collapsed.
Valentina was just about to write her off as a threat when she saw the warrior pry one of the throwing stars from her shoulder. Valentina was too far away to kill her first, and the sniper - Mills, she knew - was now focused on killing the last Kreelan still dashing toward his position. He was firing round after round at the warrior, who was dodging his aim with stunning agility.
The Kreelan facing Valentina snarled as she levered herself up on her side to throw, and Valentina readied her sword to try and deflect the hellish weapon.
With a scream of rage, Allison was there, swinging a sword at the alien’s neck.
Caught totally by surprise, the warrior tried to deflect the blow with the throwing star still clutched in her hand, but she was too late.
Allison’s aim was poor, but with a Kreelan blade it made no difference if it encountered flesh or bone. The glittering metal flashed through the warrior’s skull, and the top half of her head fell to the ground like a slice of ripened fruit. The body fell back to the bloody sand and twitched.
Allison fell to her knees and vomited just as a shot found the last warrior heading for Mills, blowing the alien apart.
Getting to her feet, ignoring the pain in her calf, Valentina fell to the sand next to Allison and hugged the girl fiercely.
“Are you all right?” They turned to see Steph, who had rolled onto her side and was trying to drag herself toward them.
Valentina and Allison struggled to their feet and went to her. Lifting Steph up to a sitting position, they hugged each other, overjoyed to be alive.
All three of them looked up at a sound like an ape howling. It was so loud that it stood out from the continued thunder of battle beyond the woods.
There, on top of a building with a maze of antennas, stood a familiar figure, a big man wearing a camouflage uniform, brandishing a huge rifle over his head and whooping in obvious joy.
“Mills,” Valentina said, shaking her head as she smiled, “you magnificent bastard.”
* * *
The Orion shuddered as a deafening boom echoed through the flag bridge, jolting Sato so hard that his teeth cracked together. Blood flooded into his mouth from where he’d bitten his tongue. He spat it out before calling to the flag captain. “Status report!”
“The bridge isn’t responding, sir!”
Sato hit the button on his comm console. “Captain Semyonova!”
Nothing.
“Get a runner to the bridge to see what’s going on. I’m taking the con. Eldridge, you’ve got navigation. Tactical, assume control of the ship’s weapons. Communications, relay our status to Thunderer and Admiral Voroshilov.”
“Aye, sir!” Eldridge had commanded two cruisers before becoming Sato’s flag captain. It had been a long time since he’d been a navigation officer, but he hadn’t forgotten how. Sato had despotically drilled him and the other members of the flag bridge crews in emergency procedures, and now Eldridge was glad for it.
The officers acknowledged their orders even as Orion reeled from more heavy blows, and her firing slacked off noticeably. While she and Thunderer had destroyed at least a third of the Kreelan ships swarming around them, there were still many left that were either undamaged or still able to fight. Thunderer had also suffered two ramming attempts, one of which actually hit her, but didn’t cause serious damage.
“Commodore, we’ve got severe damage to the port side.” The engineering officer was a young woman whose face was colored scarlet by the reflection of the red status indicators from her display. “We’ve lost all but one of the secondary turrets on that side, and four of the point defense lasers.”
As if to punctuate the statement, the ship shuddered again, and another set of alarms sounded.
“Sir,” the communications officer turned to him, her face pale, “the runner reports that the bridge is gone. One of the secondary magazines detonated...”
“Understood.” Sato set aside his grief for Semyonova and the others. There would be time to grieve later, if they all survived. “Order Thunderer to pull up along our port side and protect our flank, and have her rotate her weakest side to us.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
On the tactical display, a trio of enemy cruisers veered toward them on a collision course. All three were seriously damaged, streaming air and debris from earlier hits inflicted by their human foes.
“Tactical, co
ncentrate fire on those ships, if you please.” Sato didn’t have to point out which ones he meant. “And alert the Marines that we may have company coming.”
Everyone glanced at him. The Kreelans had stopped flinging warriors through space at human ships soon after the introduction of the anti-personnel mortars that had proven utterly devastating to boarding attacks. The Kreelans spent their lives easily, but even they didn’t have the stomach to waste their warriors that way.
Instead they used warships that had suffered serious damage to ram their human opponents. The warriors then swarmed through the resulting hull breach. It was more effective for the Kreelans, because it was harder for the humans to mount a defense against them before the warriors boarded.
But in most cases, boarding wasn’t a concern. The ships were generally moving so fast when they collided that both were totally destroyed.
“Firing, sir.”
Sato looked at the main viewscreen, which was now trained to port, following the muzzles of the ship’s main guns. Orion shuddered again, not so violently, as she began ripple firing a broadside at the approaching enemy ships as Thunderer approached from astern.
“Rotate us fifty degrees to port.” Sato watched the approaching battleship, whose forward main guns were also firing at the three approaching cruisers. Thunderer matched Orion’s rotation, slipping into place next to her sister to cover her badly wounded flank.
Behind them, the three remaining cruisers and four destroyers of the support flotilla, supported by fire from the battleships’ secondary guns, fended off attempts by Kreelan ships to attack the vulnerable sterns of the battleships. It was a desperate battle of attrition, but on balance the humans were winning. Barely.
Sato allowed himself a grim smile, his lips still smeared with blood from his bitten tongue, as he watched the results of the ship’s gunnery. The cruiser at the center of the approaching trio bloomed into a gigantic fireball as she was struck simultaneously by no fewer than six main gun rounds from Orion, the huge shells tearing deep into the enemy ship before exploding.
In Her Name: The Last War Page 105