The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  As he stepped out into the darkened main hall, Dodds’ boot slid on something. He looked down and saw that he was standing in a pool of blood. The mass that had been holding back the door was the body of a rather large woman, who had been shot several times about the torso. Her dead eyes gazed straight ahead into the rest of the hall. The hall wasn’t as dark as Dodds had first thought, and as he followed her gaze he became suddenly aware that the abandoned coats and luggage that clogged the floor were actually bodies. Dozens of them. Men, women and children lay all about. Had it not been for the visible gunshot wounds, Dodds might have thought that they had all fallen victim to some mysterious plague. He pulled himself back through the door as the hideous smell of burnt flesh started to fill his nostrils.

  “What did you see?” Enrique whispered.

  “They’re all dead,” Dodds said.

  “Who?”

  “The refugees! They’ve all been killed!”

  “Did you see any soldiers?” Chaz cut in.

  “No,” Dodds said.

  Chaz forced himself through the narrow gap to take a look for himself, before returning to the corridor and confirming that the hall was clear of danger. The scene was, however, just as Dodds had described it. At that point, Chaz concluded that they would simply have to make a run for it. It seemed that whatever cleverly devised plan he might have formulated for their escape had been thrown out the window. The big man squeezed through the doorway and then beckoned for the others to follow, telling them to stay low and keep quiet.

  *

  Moving single file, crouched down and in a line headed up by Chaz, they went as fast as they could, keeping the wall of desolate coffee shops and stores to their backs. The air was heavy with the stench of burnt materials and flesh, and it took every effort for the group not to gag and retch with every breath they took.

  They looked all about themselves as they moved, keeping an eye out for any sudden appearance of the remaining soldiers. Glass and plastics crunched loudly under their feet, as though purposely wishing to thwart their attempts to escape unseen. They didn’t have all that far to go to reach the airlock, but out in the open like this, Dodds knew that they would have little hope of hiding from or surprising an opponent. And this time there would be five of them.

  As if one wasn’t bad enough, he thought.

  Halfway to the airlock, the sound of running feet came from close by and a feeling of dread rumbled up Dodds’ spine.

  “Down! Get down!” Chaz ordered in a near-whisper, waving a hand to the floor. “Keep still and don’t move … not even your heads!”

  Dodds dropped to the ground, his eyes darting all around for signs of the origin of the sound. It wasn’t long before the source appeared – a man and woman came rushing down a static escalator from the first floor, where a number of other restaurants, bars and sleeping areas existed. The man was half dragging, half pulling the woman along behind him, as the two ran for all their worth. Dodds thought that they would’ve been better off running without holding hands, but it was clear that they feared becoming separated. They stumbled a number of times on their way down, but managed to keep themselves on their feet, even at the great speed they were descending, taking the steps two or three at a time. Loud voices followed, and then a pair of dark figures appeared by the first floor railings.

  Two of the soldiers!

  One raised a rifle, aiming only briefly before firing with clinical accuracy, two blots of plasma streaking after the fleeing pair and striking the woman squarely in the back. She screamed and tumbled to the floor, her partner losing his grip on her hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Dodds saw his fellow team-mates tense up, though they remained motionless on the floor, all five reluctant witnesses to the scene.

  With their pursuers bounding down the escalator after them, the man attempted to pull the woman to her feet. She wobbled as she tried to stand, revealing that her clothing had burned away around where she had been hit, hideous blackened and charred flesh visible beneath. The man couldn’t help her to stand quickly enough, and he looked around in time to see one of the two soldiers bearing down on top of him. He was hit directly in the chest by two rounds, the bolts carving their way straight through him. He was dead even before he hit the floor. The soldiers next dispatched the woman, seemingly unmoved by her pleas for mercy.

  A few moments later, there came more hurried footsteps, and the remaining three soldiers that Enrique had described seeing appeared, joining those standing over the two refugees they had just gunned down. They began to converse, one of the three new arrivals pointing back the way they had come.

  Dodds listened hard as they spoke to one another, a nagging feeling growing within him that the language wasn’t normal. He tried to convince himself that it was an Imperial dialect he was unfamiliar with, but the characteristics of the tongue were all wrong. It sounded somehow rough and mechanical, even though there was a strong central Mitikas accent present in each spoken word.

  He took stock of their equipment. Just like the one they had encountered in the morgue, these five soldiers sported a variety of armaments. As well as the weapon held in their hands, they too had a rifle slung over their backs. Some also had an additional pistol holstered to their right legs. Like the soldier they had tackled earlier, they all appeared to be taller than normal, and in excellent physical condition. There also appeared to be two women in the group. Though they didn’t appear to be as muscular as the men – far more slender-looking – they were just as tall. Something in the back of Dodds’ mind told him that they were likely to be as strong and dangerous as the men, too.

  As the exchange continued, Dodds began hoping that, now that they had eliminated their targets, the soldiers would leave the central hall. Or, better still, that they would depart the starport altogether. But one of the soldiers gestured to the bodies on the floor and then pointed in the direction of the medical wing. There were shakes of heads from the others and points towards the upper floor. The lead removed something from his belt. It looked like a comms device. He spoke into it. Waited. Spoke some more. Waited. No reply. He replaced it, pointed to the bodies on the floor and then in the direction of the medical wing. The others nodded.

  You’re missing your friend! Dodds realised. He hasn’t checked in!

  The troop concluded their discussion, and broke off to begin moving about the hall, nudging and kicking over bodies as they went. For a moment, Dodds wondered what they were doing. Understanding then hit him like a sledgehammer and he had to stifle a yelp.

  As it was kicked, one of the corpses let out a grunt. The body then rolled over and began to scramble urgently to their feet. Its investigator reacted quickly to the sudden movement and shot the would-be escapee down. The man cried out as a second and third shot struck him, before falling silent. The four other soldiers paused briefly to witness the act, then returned to their rounds.

  The soldiers were coming for those playing dead! They were in big trouble now! Dodds forced himself not to panic and fought the sudden, overwhelming compulsion to turn to his team-mates and work out a plan.

  The black-suited soldiers continued to nudge and kick the fallen, drawing a pistol every now and again and shooting bodies that they passed. Their persistence paid off, meeting with success on another two occasions.

  Dodds shifted his eyes to where Estelle lay next to him, seeing her almost as stiff as a board, though shivering ever so slightly. Her heart must’ve been thumping harder than it ever had in her entire life. He then shifted his eyes over to Chaz, wondering what suggestions the big man might have to offer. From the looks of things, it wouldn’t be long before the soldiers made their way over to where the Knights were concealing themselves. If Chaz had a plan, then he was going to have to act soon.

  Dodds thought about what he’d seen Chaz remove from the downed soldier in the morgue. To their name, they had one shotgun, along with a handful of shells; a near-full plasma pistol, but with only one spare fuel cell; three smoke grenades; and t
wo regular ones. This didn’t bode well for them, not in comparison with the enemy’s armament of numerous shotguns, plasma rifles, pistols, grenades and God-only-knew whatever else.

  Dodds noticed that Estelle was looking in his direction. What the hell are we going to do! her eyes cried. We have to get out of here, now!

  Don’t ask me! Dodds shifted his eyes back to Chaz. Ask him!

  Estelle turned her head very slowly towards Chaz. Chaz’s eyes flickered towards her. There was a detectable nod.

  “There’s a bar called The Lodge at eight o’clock.”

  Dodds almost jumped at the sound of Chaz’s voice, but managed to remain still. Eight o’clock, just behind them and to the left.

  “When I say move, go! Find decent cover, away from the entrance,” Chaz concluded.

  As he finished speaking, Dodds saw the head of one of the soldiers snap around in their direction, the ominous red eyes flashing in the gloom. He could not have heard that! Dodds thought. He’s too bloody far away! Chaz’s voice had come as a mumble, louder than the whispered tones he’d used before, but only loud enough so that no one in the team would have difficulty in hearing his instruction. It certainly wouldn’t have carried over to where the five black-suited soldiers patrolled. Even so, something had attracted their attention.

  “Enrique, you ready?” Chaz asked out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Just tell me what to do,” Enrique said.

  “Get ready to shoot.”

  A soldier had broken off from his systematic sweep and was heading over in their direction. Dodds watched as the black-clad figure approached, holding his breath and not even daring to blink. As he drew near, the soldier tapped at the side of his helmet, around the same area that Dodds had noticed the button-like indent. He was accessing the helmet’s optical enhancements! The Knights’ body heat! Now it would be obvious that those before him weren’t dead! The solider scanned over the bodies in front of him for only a brief moment, before he tapped his helmet again. His hand flew up, he gave a cry and began raising his weapon.

  “NOW!” Chaz shouted.

  The sound seemed to catch the soldier off-guard and he reacted in surprise, before swinging his weapon in the direction of the source. At the same time, Enrique brought himself into a prone shooting position, raising the shotgun off the ground and discharging it. The pellets tore into the soldier’s legs, forcing them to buckle, and causing him to fumble the grip on his own weapon.

  “Move!” Chaz cried, springing to his feet as the noise and sudden activity focused the attentions of the other soldiers. Dodds, Estelle and Kelly snatched up their flight helmets and dived into the bar, as Chaz capitalised on the surprise attack. He fired the pistol he still carried randomly at the other soldiers, causing them to scatter for cover. They made for a large oval reception counter that resided in the middle of the central hall, ducking down behind it and using the solid structure as cover against the incoming fire.

  From his hiding place, Dodds could see that Enrique was on his feet and chasing after Chaz. Just behind them, he saw that their first attacker had regained his composure and was bringing his weapon around to bear. He shouted a warning to Enrique, who turned about and emptied another round into the man, knocking him onto his back.

  “Careful not to waste it!” Chaz urged, as they retreated into the bar.

  They took up positions close to the front, using the walls for cover against the rain of return fire. Bottles and glasses that hadn’t already been broken or looted exploded in a hail of shards, as they were struck by bullets and plasma bolts. Chaz chanced a glance around the pillar he stood behind and snatched back as plasma energy slammed into it, inches from his face.

  “What’s the plan, Chaz?” Estelle called from where she and Kelly hid behind the bar’s counter.

  “I’m working on it,” Chaz called back through gritted teeth, chancing another hasty look outside.

  Dodds looked around the bar, trying to see if there was another way out. At the rear of the building was another door, though Dodds didn’t need to go through it to realise that it would likely only push them further into the corner they were already painting themselves into. Out the front, into the central hall and towards the soldiers, was the only way to go.

  One of the soldiers had hurried forward to aid his fallen comrade, while the others laid down suppressing fire. Chaz risked a number of potshots, but it did little to disperse them. Now next to him, the soldier took a firm hold of his ally’s forearm and started to effortlessly drag him away.

  “Enrique,” Chaz called, “those two!”

  Enrique leaned round the pillar wall and took a snapshot at the two retreating men. He didn’t find as much success as he had before, only winging the rescuer on the shoulder. The man staggered backward, releasing his grip. He was back only a few seconds later, pulling his ally away with his other hand. It was as if Enrique’s wounding of his shoulder was little more than an inconvenience. Enrique pulled the trigger again, resulting in a click.

  “I’m out!” he announced as he sank back down against the wall, popping open the shotgun and throwing aside the empty cartridges. Chaz tossed him over the remaining shells.

  “He’s getting up!” Dodds cried, watching in horror as the man that Enrique had emptied two shotgun rounds into began getting to his feet. He had only just convinced himself that the first soldier they had downed in the morgue had received nothing more than flesh wounds, the bullets Estelle had fired being slowed by the man’s leather suit.

  The reality of what they were facing finally began to sink in, and the cries of the pilot that Estelle had shot down three days ago came rushing back to him. The Dart pilot had begged not to be sent back, that if he went back he would die. Now that Dodds thought about it, the man had spoken with an Imperial accent. He had thought nothing of it at the time, but now … Was this what those three had been running from? Had they been so desperate to escape from this nightmare that they were willing to risk going head-to-head with seasoned Confederation starfighter pilots? The odds of their survival had been low, but no doubt higher than the odds against these soldiers. The rumours he had heard the previous night were starting to feel a great deal more like fact than fiction.

  Something else occurred to him – was this how Dragon had been so easily overcome? From what he was witnessing here, even the several thousand strong crew of the battleship’s full complement would be no match against such unrelenting foes. If one needed further proof, they need look no further than a few hours ago, to Operation Menelaus. He was almost certain that it was soldiers such as these who had been piloting those fighters. Their reactions were certainly sharp enough.

  It was starting to make sense why he’d only been suspended for six months – the navy simply couldn’t afford to lose servicemen. It was as PJ had said – the CSN needed everyone that they could get hold of, no matter the cost. They had clearly known that they were outmatched for quite some time.

  What other secrets were the CSN keeping from them?

  He looked to Chaz, who was sheltering from the bullets and plasma that continued to fly into the bar, ripping plaster and chunks of concrete from the walls, splintering wooden chairs, tables and the counter, shattering bottles, glasses and decorations. Their cover was slowly being eroded. He caught the big man’s eye. He looked stressed.

  “Chaz, seriously, we need to know,” Dodds said. “Who the hell are these guys?”

  There was considerable pause, then, “They’re the result of the Senate’s final attempt to take control of the empire,” Chaz said in a dour tone. “They’re a mistake.”

  “What?” Dodds said. “They’re a mistake?” More bullets and plasma hurtled into the bar. Enrique swore as flaming chunks of wood twirled through the air and landed on the floor close to him. Dodds ignored it, keen to press Chaz for an answer. “Chaz, what do you mean?”

  Chaz paid him no further attention, and Dodds noted that the digital counter on the plasma pistol that the man held was est
imating that only two shots remained in the current fuel cell. Shooting down the enemy was now no longer an option. If it ever had been. Chaz was clearly at a loss as to how to escape their current predicament. Soon they’d be out of ammunition, and would be left with nothing to do but wait for the soldiers to close in.

  Chaz ducked out of hiding again, loosing off the final two shots, before crouching down behind the wall to reload the pistol. He clicked the gun open and tossed the empty fuel cell away. Dodds watched it go, the little splash it made as it hit the floor grabbing his attention. He stared at it for a moment, before looking over to Enrique, who was still swearing and kicking at a piece of burning wood that was refusing to go out. It was then that he noticed the thin film of liquid that covered most of the floor, as well as the strong smell of wine that hung in the air.

  Chaz’s face suddenly brightened, as if a light bulb had switched on in his head. “Estelle, Kelly – what you two got back there?” he shouted to the two women taking refuge behind the counter.

  “We don’t have any weapons or ammo!” Estelle called back.

  “Not unless you want to start throwing beer glasses at them!” Kelly added.

  “Anything with a high percentage of alcohol?” Chaz said.

  “They’re starting to come around!” Enrique cried.

  At their current range, Enrique’s shotgun wasn’t going to be as accurate or effective against the soldiers as the pistol. He fired it nonetheless, in an attempt to keep the soldiers together, though they had already split into two groups and had begun to circle around, to take the bar blindsided.

  Chaz swore and then jumped out from cover, fully exposing himself, and firing off several shots at both groups to drive them back. The gamble paid off and the soldiers dived for cover, Chaz seeking safety once more himself. It was clear that he’d not be able to pull off such a move again. Dodds thought it lucky that he hadn’t been shot to ribbons, even in those brief few seconds.