The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  “Ammo; they all take batteries like this …” He demonstrated how to open the rifle and then whipped out a component within. It was grey and cylindrical, but with clear white lettering and two coloured strips running around the top and bottom.

  “Now, pay attention; this is the important bit. Blue stripes, 60w written on it, like the rifle itself. That’ll provide you with a clip of approximately sixty shots, like the name of the rifle suggests. Got that?”

  Estelle nodded in the absence of words. She was finding them hard to come by. She found what the brigadier was saying easy enough to follow, though.

  Potter rummaged around in the bag and pulled out another battery of similar size. This one, however, had white stripes and 35w written on it. “You can also use these, but you’ll have to work with a reduced clip size. Whatever you do, don’t put in anything above a 60. If you shove an 80 or 120 in there and try to fire, then this thing will short out. If it’s damaged or badly maintained, then it might well explode in your face. If it does explode, and you’re lucky, it’ll kill you. Otherwise, you’ll lose both your hands and be left with plasma burns all over your body. The basic rule is, don’t put in anything higher than the name of gun suggests.

  “When you need to reload, open the rifle and put a new battery in. Be careful – if you’ve just made heavy use of it, the battery will be hot.” He shoved the battery back in and snapped the rifle shut. “Right, any questions?”

  Both Chaz and Estelle shook their heads. Chaz appeared to be keeping his cool, but Estelle could feel her heart beginning to thump harder than ever in her chest. They were about to be called forward and right into the line of fire. Up until now, she had managed to avoid any direct confrontation with those soldiers. Not any longer.

  “Those helmets on your head,” Potter went on, “they can withstand most ballistics fire and fragmentation threats, but don’t count on them to protect you against direct plasma and laser fire; it’s not a shield.”

  But now I’m wishing it was, Estelle thought.

  “They have built-in retractable eye level visors, which can provide rudimentary night vision, infrared, and motion tracking systems. It is activated like this …” He leaned over to Estelle and demonstrated the usage of the helmet, barely pausing for breath. “You should also keep that visor down at all times to protect your eyes. Only remove it if it obscures your vision to the point where it has become a hindrance. And don’t take that helmet off, either. Right now, that’s the only protection you’ve got.”

  “Okay,” Estelle said.

  Potter looked to Chaz. “You hadn’t said a thing. You getting everything I’m telling you? Because I don’t have time to repeat it …”

  “Every word. Just give me one of those and show me where you want me to shoot,” Chaz said.

  “Good man!” Potter said, with a trace of a grin. “I can tell you’re just like Milligan; you just keep your mouth shut, do as you’re told and get on with it. Right, Lieutenant Commander, here you go.” He pushed the rifle he had used for the demonstration into Estelle’s hands, before grabbing up a second which, after a snap inspection, he passed to Chaz. “We’re going to be making our way over that way. Stay low and keep yourself in cover as much as possible. Once we’re there, we need to hold the Enemy where they are now and stop them from forcing us back any further.

  “Three things: one – chivalry is dead out here; you will shoot down the Enemy regardless of sex, age, whatever. Two – the one that came off the skybike earlier survived a crash that would’ve killed an ordinary man; the only way we can put this lot down permanently is—”

  “A shot to the head or through the heart,” Chaz answered.

  “Good. You’re learning fast. If you can learn how to fire one of those as quickly as you can learn facts, then all the better for us. And finally – the quickest way to get yourself killed is to stay out in the open. If you do that then you’ll be picked off faster than lobster at an open buffet.” The brigadier leaned around the barricade one last time. “Right, let’s go. Follow me and keep low. Take cover when I order you to and don’t come out until I give you the all-clear. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Chaz responded.

  “Got it,” Estelle said.

  “Good,” Potter smiled. “Let’s move!”

  *

  Estelle held on tight to her rifle, breathing hard and praying silently for a miracle. She didn’t want to be doing this. Not for the first time that day, her father’s words came back to her. She felt she was finally in over her head; this was all too much.

  Along with Thompson and Stafford, the group rounded their barricades and headed down the road, into the thick of battle. The road up ahead was laden with the remains of a collapsed overhead walkway. The incline of the structure was such that it permitted them to clamber up the mound and gain a commanding view of the battle further on. Almost at once, Estelle heard shouts for her and Chaz to duck into cover, and position themselves where they would have an advantage over their adversaries. Even before she did so, the scene that greeted her was enough to make her want to flee back the way she’d come.

  People were running in every direction, trading gunfire and explosions. Bright green plasma bolts flew all around – across the lengths and widths of adjoining streets; from the ground, up into buildings and back down again. Rockets joined them, whistling through the air and smashing into walls and the remains of other still-standing structures. The impacts tore gaping holes in the constructions, covering everything beneath in a shower of debris. On more than one occasion, soldiers taking refuge below were buried under a mound of rubble. The air was thick, too, with the cries of battle. Every other word Estelle heard uttered was either a curse at the enemy or a plea for backup and support. She fought to find the confidence to lean out of cover, find a target and lend her support. But every time she was ready to do so, a trail of bright green light would hurtle past her hiding place, often far too close for comfort. The few times she had managed to pull out, she had struggled to operate the weapon as effectively as she desired, her shots wild and far off target. The rifle possessed a great deal more recoil than she had originally anticipated, shuddering with every bolt she loosed off. She felt it was all too easy to lose control of the weapon and hit someone else. She had thought of Dodds and pulled back into cover.

  She glanced over to Chaz, hunkered down not far from where she cowered. Unlike herself, the man was working the rifle as though it were second nature to him – watching his ammunition carefully, not firing for too long and causing the gun to overheat, and only moving out of cover long enough to assess where his targets were and where to shoot, but not enough for the enemy soldiers to get a bead on him.

  “Hold them! Hold them!” Estelle heard a cry from somewhere around her. She peeped out of her cover again, to see a host of red eyes swarming towards the bottom of the mound. A group of the Imperial soldiers had managed to overcome those holding the line further up the road and were pressing home their advantage. She knew she could no longer hide away from the battle, not when it was becoming increasingly clear that her participation was badly needed. She swung out from behind the stone pillar that was her protection and, sighting as fast as she could, sprayed the approaching group. The bolts missed their intended targets by a long way, striking nothing but the ground where they had once stood. It seemed that the moment she had opened fire, they had moved at lightning speed into cover. She could see their bright red eyes shining in the darkness, as they poked their heads around their defensive positions. She darted back as a torrent of green plasma bolts sped forward, alongside bullets, chipping concrete from the pillar she’d flattened herself against.

  Dammit! That hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. She peeked around the pillar once more, at the Imperial soldiers. They’d be up the mound in a few moments and, with their numbers, would easily overrun their cover. She looked over to Chaz, at the same time as he looked up from checking his weapon.

  “You okay?” he called, catch
ing her eye.

  “Just pacing myself,” she answered him.

  He nodded, then his eyes flew to somewhere above her. “Estelle!”

  She felt a clatter of fragments of stone fall around her, and looked upward to see more pieces hurtling down, gathering in number and size, like an avalanche of masonry. She knew instantly she had to move, but she couldn’t think where to – everywhere was dangerous. To come out of cover would expose her to enemy fire; to remain could mean being crushed to death.

  Suddenly, something grabbed hold of her. It was Chaz.

  “Keep down and hurry!” The big man wrenched her from where she had been holding up, putting an arm over her and forcing her to keep low. They skittered over to a knoll of stone and brick, a dimple upon the larger mound they were conducting the fight from. They sunk down behind it, paused for a moment, then moved again during a lull in the opposing fire, heading back to where Chaz had been holding position. They had moved quickly, though it had felt far longer, with Estelle expecting every second to feel the searing pain of a bullet or plasma bolt striking her. None came. A few moments later, she heard a huge crash behind her, and turning around she saw her once-safe location was now a sea of rubble; rubble that she would have been beneath, had it not been for Chaz.

  “Thanks,” she breathed, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “Don’t mention it,” he said. “Now, keep back a moment. Commander,” he added. He pressed himself up against his cover, making quick, snap glances beyond his defensive position. He had a determined look on his face, as though he was planning something.

  “Charging!” he shouted, thrusting a hand into the air. A few more snap glances. “Heads up!” He rounded his cover and pointed the rifle towards where the enemy soldiers were assembled. Instead of the expected spray of bolts, however, a single, far fatter and denser white ball issued from the rifle, brightening its surroundings like a flood light as it raced away from him. The effect was followed moments later by a tremendous, ear-shattering crash and the sound of a number of screams. What sounded like pebbles tumbling down a rocky hillside concluded the act. Whatever had just happened, it had created, broken apart, thrown up and re-distributed a lot of rubble.

  Estelle became aware that gunfire from the enemy soldiers had lessened significantly, and she rose to her feet, leaning out to gain a clearer picture. Whatever Chaz had done, it had dug a huge crater at the foot of the mound of rubble they stood atop. What appeared to be the remains of a number of black-suited bodies lay contorted on the ground. Most lay still and unmoving, one was clearly missing an arm. After a moment, one of the still-whole bodies struggled to their feet and began to limp away from the area. There was a loud bang and the soldier fell back down, a red spray bursting from the back of their head.

  “Nice one, Milligan,” a voice congratulated.

  Estelle couldn’t see the sniper anywhere. But then that was the point, wasn’t it? He would be hidden away from view.

  “Careful there with the charge, Koonan!” a woman’s voice shouted.

  The bald-headed Thompson, not far in front of them, was glaring up at the big man. Estelle hadn’t noticed the woman there before, but then again, Estelle had been doing little else except searching for the courage to face her adversaries.

  Chaz said nothing, and just popped open the rifle. He scooped up what looked like a piece of cloth from the ground and wrapped it quickly around his hand, before extracting the battery from the gun and tossing it aside. He scanned the ground, swore and then called to someone out of sight. Another battery was thrown in his direction. He caught it smartly, shoved it back into the rifle, snapped the gun shut and dropped the cloth once more at his feet, pushing a stone over it with his foot, to keep it in place.

  “Never used one before, huh?” Estelle said. The man was acting like he’d been born clutching the damn thing in his hands!

  “Fast learner,” Chaz said.

  Fast learner? Could’ve foo— Did he just wink at her? The man was enjoying this far more than he should be.

  “Forward, people! Move, move!” a voice came from somewhere. Figures rushed past, bounding and leaping over the assault course of rubble and debris. Edie Thompson started on down, pausing for a moment and glancing around at Estelle and Chaz.

  “Come on!” she called. “We’ve got them on the back foot!”

  Chaz re-cocked his rifle. “Ready?” he said to Estelle.

  Estelle only nodded, and then followed suit.

  *

  With their enemies in retreat, the allies started down the mound and further into the square. Estelle moved with the rest of the group, though she couldn’t help but feel hesitant. The square, as was its nature, was a wide open space. Even with the fallen overhead structures adding bulk, increased surface area, and obstructions to it, she still felt far too exposed and vulnerable. She longed for the protection offered by a starfighter’s shielding. To her relief, she saw that a number of makeshift bunkers had been erected nearby, and she didn’t hesitate to duck into the first one she came across. A moment later, Chaz joined her, settling down with his back against the tall metal barrier. More of the Territorial Guard positioned themselves behind other barricades, poking their guns around their defences and continuing to fire upon the Imperial soldiers.

  She and Chaz remained there for a time, Estelle beginning to feel more confident about the situation. The return fire from the enemy had lessened significantly in the past few minutes and she felt it was safe for her to participate once more.

  “Come up! Move up!” a voice cried.

  A blur of feet moved past the bunker, and Estelle moved after them as Chaz did, sliding down into another bunker further up the field. They had met with hardly any opposition as they had gone. A small amount of return fire had greeted their run, but as far as she could tell, none of it had actually found a target. Adopting a similar position to Chaz, on the adjacent side of the bunker, she scanned the field. Up ahead, she could see that the Imperial soldiers were holding back from attacking, moving away from the advancing allied group. The Territorial Guard were aggressively pressing home their advantage, moving further up the square as they chased down an enemy who appeared to be in retreat.

  Estelle began to line up her rifle, looking for the telltale signs of ruby-red eyes that would give away the location of her enemy. She saw one, darting between cover and moving further away. She then saw another, doing the same. Her finger stalled on the trigger.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said. She may have been far from a battlefield veteran, but this didn’t quite feel right. It mattered little whether it was a battle in the vacuum of space or one fought on the ground, the same principles applied – if the enemy forces were in retreat, then they should be fleeing. Here, they seemed to be just falling back; waiting for something.

  “They’re drawing us out!” she started, looking over to Chaz. Then she heard it – the hum of an engine. Across the square rolled the long rectangular form of an armoured personnel carrier, driving itself between the Territorial Guard and the soldiers they were pursuing. The APC’s tyres screeched, the rear door dropping even before the vehicle had come to a complete halt. From out the back sprang a number of black suits. They appeared to be more lightly armed than their comrades, equipped with only a small pistol. Strangely, they also seemed a lot more willing to put themselves into the line of fire than the others. What looked like a large oval frame, about five feet in height, was clipped to each one of their right forearms.

  The newly arrived enemy soldiers formed a wall ahead of their allies and raised the oval apparatuses in front of themselves. A second later, the once-hollow oval devices filled with a translucent rippling blue sheen. The twenty-strong line held them in front of themselves and started forward, as if they no longer had anything to fear, not even gunfire. Plasma bolts crashed into the blue covering, dissipating the instant they struck it. Bullets ricocheted off, slamming into the ground and the surroundings, some even shooting back in the direction
from which they had come.

  Estelle needed no further hints as to what she was looking at. “Oh my God, they’ve got shields!” she said.

  An eruption of similar cries went up from the assembled Territorial Guard, all suddenly realising what was happening. A moment later, a huge array of black suits and ruby-red eyes popped into view. The soldiers moved in behind those carrying the shields, and resumed attacking with the same ferocity they had had when Estelle and Chaz had first joined the battle. Estelle’s heart leapt into her throat and she pulled back into the bunker. They’d been lured into a trap!

  “Take them down!” voices were shouting.

  Estelle glanced ashamedly at her ammo counter; she hadn’t even used up an entire clip yet. And now, her contribution was needed more than ever. She moved instinctively, popping back out and loosing off as many shots as she dared, before moving back. A hail of bullets and plasma bolts hurtled by the bunker on both sides, striking close to where she was. The cries of valour from the Territorial Guard had turned into shouts of warning, interlaced with screams of pain and calls for aid. It seemed that in just a matter of minutes, the allies’ victory had morphed into a disaster. Estelle applied herself as best she could, but the black suits were closing in. She saw a woman attempt to tackle one of the shield carriers, who had moved close to her position. One swing of the shield was all it took, the woman knocked off her feet and sent sailing through the air. The soldier shot her dead even before she returned to the ground.

  As Estelle prepared to make another effort to find a way to defeat the shield bearers, she felt a tug at her arm. It was Chaz.

  “Come on!” he said, hauling her to her feet.

  As if to emphasise his point, she heard a new cry go up. “Fall back! Fall back!” Feet began racing past the bunker, in the opposite direction to before. She needed no further hints. She leapt up and ran with the big man, back towards the mound of rubble they had originally held position at. They didn’t get far before tailing enemy fire forced them to once more take shelter in a bunker. The exchanges of fire continued from both sides, and both Estelle and Chaz did what they could to bring down the advancing Imperial soldiers. It soon became very clear to Estelle, however, that they were fighting a losing battle. She prepared to suggest to Chaz that they make another break for the mound, when two figures appeared next to the bunker.