The Golden Horde (The Revelations Cycle Book 4)

by Chris Kennedy

  “And why would I do that when you’re just going to use it to kill my allies?”

  “Because if you help us, I’ll pay you very well.” Walker looked down and flicked a piece of dust from the blade. “I will also give you my word that I won’t maim you before we turn you back over to your unit.”

  The MinSha’s head turned from side to side, surveying the compound.

  “They’ll kill you from the wall before you get five steps,” Walker said. He nodded toward the wall and the MinSha turned to see a soldier pointing a tri-barreled laser in her direction. The trooper waved with one hand while keeping the other alongside the trigger guard. “Also, I hear there are Xiq’tal coming. I doubt you want to be outside the walls with several pods of them around.”

  “What is it you need help with?” the MinSha finally asked.

  “Our power cord won’t mate with your power receptacle. Is there any other way of applying power?”

  “50,000.”

  “50,000 what?”

  “I’ll show you how to apply power for 50,000 credits.”

  “Fine.”

  “I have your word?”

  “Yes,” Walker said. “You have my word.”

  The MinSha walked over to the fighter and popped open an access panel. She studied the power cable on the ground for a couple of seconds, looked inside the space, and pulled out a large piece of a hard, rubber-like material. She tossed it underhand to Walker. “There you go. There are adapters in that space for most of the mercenary races’ power cords.” She laughed, the noise sounding like a rasp on wood. “Easiest 50,000 I ever made.”

  Walker growled as he slid the adapter onto the power cable then into the receptacle. It fit. He pushed the “Enable” button, and the ship made a number of cracks and pops as it came to life.

  Mercs began firing from the south wall, and within a few seconds, firing began from the east and west walls, as well, as the crabs probed the defenses. Walker knew he didn’t have much time; he hurried up the ladder and leaned into the cockpit of the fighter.

  Built for export, the seating in the cockpit was rapidly reconfigurable via a series of switches. He threw several of them, converting the cockpit from the high-mounted, lying down configuration preferred by the MinSha to the traditional upright sitting position favored by Humans.

  The seat snapped into position, and he jumped into the cockpit. There were a number of places for him to snap a restraining harness into; as he didn’t have any flight gear, though, he ignored them and began re-familiarizing himself with the cockpit controls and layout. If his maneuvering was so bad he needed restraints, he probably had bigger issues—no straps in the world would save him if he crashed the fighter.

  He searched the depths of his memory and found what little remained of his MinSha fighter familiarization. Happily, it hadn’t been overwritten when he got his implants. He was as ready as he was going to be.

  He pushed the starter button on the left motor. Nothing happened. He pushed the button in and held it. Still…nothing.

  Fuck.

  South Wall, Main Base, Trigar 2-A, Trigar System

  “We can’t hold the south wall much longer,” Mun said as she killed the crab that had just removed one of the wall blocks beneath her. She could feel the wall shift a little, but the rest of the blocks held. For now. “There are too many dead crabs below the wall—they’re climbing up them like a ramp!”

  “I can see that,” Sansar said. She leaned over to put the muzzle of her MAC rifle next to the joint where two pieces of carapace joined on the crab beneath her. She fired and the Xiq’tal dropped away.

  She pulled back and ducked behind the battlement. The Third Squad trooper next to her wasn’t as fast, and he took the flechette burst in the face and chest. The upper half of his body looked like a pin cushion as he fell backward off the wall without a sound.

  On a normal day, the crabs wouldn’t have been much of an issue. The Horde would have dispatched them with missile and heavy MAC fire as they emerged from the water, and most of the crab’s weapons wouldn’t have been more than annoyances, at worst. With the suits not working, though, they lost all of the shoulder-mounted heavy weapons they normally had. Many of her troopers no longer even had the safety of their CASPer’s armor—over one quarter of the suits were dead. If they were going to hold the fort, they needed more heavy weapons…or better tactics. Probably both.

  She risked a glance at the mass of crabs, then ducked back as a grenade exploded on the wall’s exterior, spraying acid all over the attackers. It ran off their shells, barely affecting them; they surged forward again. Time was almost up, but she had seen their weakness—none of the crabs had anti-air defenses. They were all armed to assault the base, not defend themselves.

  “South Wall defenders,” Sansar transmitted. “If you have a CASPer, stand by to jump. We’re going to fly over them and hit them from behind where they’re the weakest. West wall and east wall defenders, be prepared to shift to the south wall to fill in.”

  They could still hold the fort. If she could hit the crabs hard enough from behind and kill a bunch of them, the rest might surrender. It was the one thing they were susceptible to, especially since the force didn’t seem to have a king crab that would force them to fight harder, and it was the only hope she had left.

  “Stand by!” Sansar called.

  “King crab!” Staff Sergeant Khunbish Enkh transmitted. “West of the base, half a mile out!”

  Sansar winced. Well, that would make it harder. They’d still be okay though if the king crab didn’t have—

  An anti-aircraft missile roared by overhead.

  “Looks like it has a couple of ack-ack pod troopers with it!” Khunbish added.

  They couldn’t jump with the anti-aircraft crabs nearby; they’d be slaughtered.

  They were trapped.

  Shit.

  ‘Squadron Maintenance,’ Main Base, Trigar 2-A, Trigar System

  “It’s not starting,” Walker shouted down from the cockpit. “Nothing’s happening when I push the button.”

  “I should expect not,” the pilot shouted back. “And it won’t, for one such as you.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “The fighter was built for us, not for you. I will, however, be happy to give you the secret for starting it…for another 50,000 credits.”

  “Are you out of your mind? I’ve got my kukris; I can come down there and show them to you.”

  “As you wish.” The pilot lowered her head in submission, but then added, “It will, however, be difficult for me to tell you anything if I’m dead. I have told you all I felt was appropriate without additional compensation. Any further attempts at coercion are doomed to fail, as I would rather be dead than without my honor.”

  “But you’d sell your honor for 50,000 credits?”

  “I don’t look at it as selling my honor so much as buying a new one that is a little more…flexible. Besides, you’re going to kill the crabs before they overrun the base, right?” Walker nodded. “Good, because I don’t want to be eaten alive. Still, you know, hundreds of mouths to feed…”

  “You know,” Walker said, “you’re beginning to vex me.” He sighed. Movement caught his eye as something large detonated against the west wall, and two of the First Squad defenders in CASPers fell backward off it. They didn’t move when they hit the ground. “Okay, damn it,” he yelled, “50,000 more for the secret of how to start it.”

  “You have to press the brakes on the rudder pedals,” the MinSha shouted.

  Rudder pedals…off course you have to hold the brakes. Walker looked around. No rudders or anything that resembled them could be seen in the tiny cockpit. Think, damn it. The MinSha had said, ‘It won’t start for one such as you.’ How is she different? Walker looked down at the alien. The rudders would be pushed with his feet, but the MinSha had feet, too. He looked a little higher. Damn it! The MinSha had knees that bent the opposite direction, like a bird. Instead of
going down, her legs would go up!

  Sure enough, there was an open spot above his feet that he hadn’t seen before; the rudder pedals were probably up there—he had forgotten to move the rudders when he configured the cockpit. He surveyed the panel, found the switch labeled “Rudders,” and held it in. The rudders dropped down and into position.

  Walker held the rudders down while he pressed the starter button again, and he smiled as the cryogenic rocket engine lit off. The engine was similar in concept to early Human rocket engines that used liquid hydrogen as fuel and liquid oxygen as an oxidizer, but the system was more refined and incorporated a number of safety features the initial Human astronauts never had. It was also a lot better for a planet’s environment than flying through it with a lit fusion torch. As the dials and gauges settled, he pushed the second start button, and the other motor roared to life.

  Walker advanced the throttles slightly from the idle position to get a feel for the fighter’s controls, and motion in the little mirrors on the periphery of the cockpit caught his attention as all the equipment stacked behind the craft went flying in the motors’ massive rocket blast. Oops.

  A blue flash went past the cockpit window as the MinSha scampered past to clear the danger area. Maybe the stupid bug wasn’t so dumb after all—she was the only individual who was going to survive the catastrophic explosion that was likely to happen when Walker tried to take the fighter flying…and she was 100,000 credits richer to boot.

  “King crab!” he heard over his implants. “West of the base, half a mile out!”

  Okay, that would be his target, then. Although the Xiq’tal king crabs rarely deployed, their presence made the Xiq’tal more coordinated and much more deadly.

  He checked his gauges. The throttle test had proven one thing—a traditional takeoff wouldn’t be possible. He didn’t have enough runway, anyway, and if he advanced the throttles to full power, he was going to blow a number of troopers off the wall. A normal takeoff was contraindicated.

  His eyes scanned the cockpit looking for the knob to select the vertical takeoff mode. He found it after a couple seconds—it was the one labeled, “Go Straight Up.” The MinSha weren’t known for their creativity.

  Walker spun the knob from “Go Forward” to “Go Straight Up,” and dust blew out from underneath the fighter as the rocket exhaust was directed to eight variable nozzles under the craft.

  His left hand went back to the throttles, but then he hesitated as he realized he had no idea of how to balance the craft as he lifted. Flipping the fighter and crashing would probably be fatal to himself and a number of troops in the lethal blast radius. Was there an auto-stabilization system? Walker thought he remembered one, but couldn’t be sure. Screw it; he would be dead when the crabs overran the camp in a few minutes, anyway.

  Walker smoothly advanced the throttles, and the craft lifted, its motors screaming. He climbed to about 20’ and then retarded the throttles slightly to stop and assess his situation.

  Wham!

  Something hit the nose of the fighter. Must have been a MAC round—he could see the dent. Even if the MinSha weren’t terribly creative, they built a well-armored fighter. Another round hit the canopy of the fighter next to his head and he flinched, dropping the craft halfway back to the ground. An anti-aircraft missile roared by within five feet of his head. It was so close he could hear its rocket motor over the fighter’s engines.

  “Looks like it has a couple of ack-ack pod troopers with it!” the radio voice added.

  Well, no shit. Thanks for the warning, asshole.

  He nudged the fighter up five feet, so it was just above the top of the battlement, spun it so the nose pointed east, and selected the knob to “Go Forward.” The fighter automatically began diverting power to the rear exhausts, and he had to add power to compensate as the fighter’s altitude dipped. For a second, he was looking straight at the un-suited trooper on the wall, and he could see the trooper’s eyes go wide as he turned and saw the fighter airborne and headed right at him. The trooper threw himself to the wall walk as Walker selected “Gear Up,” and the fighter continued to climb. It passed just over the trooper and scraped across the battlement, the metal of the craft screaming like nails on a chalkboard. A Xiq’tal had just stuck its head over the battlement and got slammed in the face by the fighter. It fell over backward, off the wall.

  As the planet’s thick air began flowing over the fighter’s wings, the fighter transitioned to full forward flight, and Walker pushed down on the controls to keep the base between himself and the king crab. He flew for what he thought was about 10 miles, then turned south. After going about 10 miles out to sea, he turned right and headed back west again.

  This leg was longer, so he used it to reacquaint himself with the weapons system and targeting controls. Unfortunately, the information the Horde had downloaded to his implants didn’t include how to fly MinSha fighters, so he had to rely on what he had learned many years prior. It came back to him…but slowly.

  At least the system was easy enough to understand. He rotated the locking collar of the arming panel to enable the system, then selected “Weapons On.” A targeting reticle appeared in front of him in a heads-up display-like indicating system. He familiarized himself with the rest of the knobs and switches he’d need, then turned north.

  He turned east again as he crossed back over land, and he pulled back the throttles to slow himself. He probably only had one shot at it, and if he missed and went screaming past the ack-ack crabs, they’d destroy him before he could get turned around.

  He must not have gone as far as he thought he had; within moments of turning east, he could see the walls of The Golden Horde base. He was going too fast—he wasn’t ready for combat! He retarded the throttles, and immediately began sinking toward the ground. Shit! He jammed the throttle forward and pulled back, narrowly avoiding an impact with the ground. He didn’t see how—the ground was right there out the side of the canopy.

  He looked back forward; he was almost to the king crab!

  Walker knew he was going to fly past the group of crabs on the beach, but he couldn’t stop or he’d crash. Then he had it—he selected the takeoff knob to “Go Straight Up” and the fighter’s forward velocity began slowing as the exhaust was ported from the rear of the craft to the nozzles underneath it.

  One problem solved, he shifted his left hand from the throttles to the targeting selector. Built something like a joystick with an embedded trigger, it didn’t fit his hand correctly, but he was able to operate it well enough. He swiveled the joystick, and the targeting reticle slewed across the front of his screen, but he couldn’t find the group of crabs. Shit! He was still going forward—the crabs were almost underneath him!

  He pulled the reticle closer and found the Xiq’tal. The two smaller crabs were turning to point their missile pods at him. He got the reticle on one of them, pulled the trigger, and a red circle appeared around the target. He slewed the stick to the second anti-aircraft trooper and selected it as it fired a missile. It roared past him, missing him by only a few feet—he was so close it hadn’t had time to guide properly!

  With both ack-ack crabs marked, Walker selected the fire mode to “Auto” and enabled the autopilot. The fighter instantly spun back to the first crab and fired a burst of four laser bolts, destroying it, then spun back to the second target and destroyed it as well. The word “Re-Engage?” appeared in the heads-up display.

  Walker turned the autopilot back off and slewed the targeting reticle back to the group of Xiq’tal. The smoking remains of the two smaller crabs was readily apparent, but the king crab was gone. He looked out the window and saw the monster skittering back toward the ocean.

  “Oh no you fucking don’t!” Walker said under his breath as he slewed the reticle back toward the water and marked the king crab. The alien leader was within 15 feet of the water when Walker threw the autopilot switch back to “Auto,” and the fighter swung back around and fired.

  Stronger tha
n the smaller ones, the king crab was wounded, but continued toward the water. When the “Re-Engage?” message illuminated, Walker squeezed the trigger on the targeting system and another four bursts fired into the king crab. It dropped to the sand with its front legs in the water. Its legs twitched, and Walker fired a third and fourth burst into it. The last burst blew off half of its back carapace and cooked everything inside it; steam poured from the half-shell.

  “Chowder’s on, boys!” Walker transmitted. “The king crab and ack-ack troopers are down.”

  South Wall, Main Base, Trigar 2-A, Trigar System

  “The king crab is down!” Khunbish transmitted, his call following immediately after Walker’s. He sounded a lot more excited this time.

  Even without the radio calls, Sansar could have guessed that something had happened—all the crabs paused in their attack.

  It was their chance.

  “South wall troops! On me! Stand by to jump…Jump!” Sansar blasted off the battlements with a roar of rocket fire, arcing over the normal crabs below her. She could see Mun immediately behind her on her heads-up display, and then all of the Third and Fourth Squad troopers whose CASPers still worked.

  Sansar spun in midair and landed just past the last rank of crabs, facing back toward the base. She took a step and kicked over the closest crab. Firing two rounds from her MAC rifle into it, she killed it and moved on to the next one. Mun landed next to her and kicked over the one to her right. “Warn us next time, would you, ma’am?” Mun asked as she killed her crab and fired into the one next to it which was turning back toward her. It screamed as she shot off an eye stalk.

  The rest of the troopers touched down, and the slaughter was on. Some of the crabs turned around toward Sansar, and they were immediately killed by soldiers on the battlements.

  Within 30 seconds, it was over; the crabs began sinking to the sand in surrender, their legs folded in a display of submission.