Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9)

by Mark Wandrey

  The door opened again. Bana, back already? A flash of orange, yellow, and black in the doorway, and Shadow threw himself to the side and rolled before his conscious mind caught on. Gunfire from the door.

  More Pushtal in the doorway.

  They were under attack.

  “To entropy with your concessions. We’re taking everything!” Eye Patch screeched, knocking over the table and pulling something long out of his suit. Mercs scrambled in every direction. Metal crashed as Silent Night soldiers knocked over shelves and folded tables that had been pushed to the walls to prepare for this meeting. There was precious little cover in the rec room—it had never been meant for combat.

  Though this was less combat and more an attempt to shoot fish in a damn barrel.

  Shadow tried to clear his mind, one hand reaching for his sidearm, one braced against something soft. Gunshots continued, and there were suddenly far more bodies in the room. The soft thing he’d fetched up against groaned under his hand.

  Wet coated his fur, and he forced himself to look. Pierce.

  “The…fuck…” the man muttered, his eyes unfocused and rolling.

  “Shit,” Shadow said, his mind staggering for a long breath. He pressed his other hand against Pierce’s chest, but the merc was pumping blood too fast. Shadow’s ears swiveled, searching for sense in the sudden chaos.

  Rex roared and dove for the Pushtal crowding in through the door, shooting with a pistol in each hand. Three of the original Pushtal were dead in the middle of the room, and Eye Patch had an enormous gun in his hand. Eye Patch bounded toward Alan, while Rex and several other Human mercs clashed with the four other felines that had burst into the room.

  The last of the Pushtal stood at the flipped over table in the center of the room, Ifka’s neck clenched in one hand, and he shook her so hard, Shadow was sure her neck had snapped.

  “Shit,” Shadow said again as Pierce’s blood stopped pumping, and his unfocused eyes stopped moving. The man had deserved better, despite what an ass he’d always been, and Shadow crouched over his body, doing absolutely nothing in the midst of an ambush…

  Alan had his handgun out, kneeling and firing methodically. Shadow had half a second to admire the man who’d raised him. He was, first and foremost, a seasoned warrior. Surrounded by mayhem and death, he was working the problem, dropping aggressors in a meticulous manner. There was no sign of Eye Patch now.

  Following his example, Shadow howled and pushed off from the wall so hard, he nearly flew in the low-G. He collided with the Pushtal clutching Ifka, and despite the feline being likely twice his mass, the impact sent them tumbling.

  “Shadow, get out of the way!” Gardner’s voice called. More of Silent Night were joining the fight, shooting back to drop more Pushtal. No bloody way was he allowing the one he’d hit to continue rampaging through the room—he already had his own sidearm in hand.

  His hand and weapon were slick with blood, Pierce’s blood, and Ifka was between him and the Pushtal. They were all sprawled on the floor, and Shadow reminded himself that Ifka was already dead. He shot through her, stroking the trigger, the Pushtal shuddering from the impact. The Pushtal reared off the floor and swung a massive paw at him, claws gleaming. A howl tore from Shadow’s throat as he rolled clear, fetching up on his elbow and shooting it three more times before it stopped moving.

  Everything was chaotic with Human, Zuparti, and Pushtal bodies seemingly everywhere, but the gunshots had lessened. Rex and his father must have cleared the door of the incoming Pushtal, but now were nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Dad?” he shouted to the other mercs.

  “I think he ran outside after Rex,” someone said. “Chasing a bloody huge Pushtal with an eyepatch?”

  Without waiting or acknowledging, Shadow was already running out the door after his father, brother, and Eye Patch.

  He didn’t look to see if anyone was following him, but he didn’t need to. They were Silent Night. Of course they fell in after him.

  Another Pushtal sprawled across the hall, the overwhelming smell of blood and burnt fur and Pushtal making it impossible to tell how many had been here. Shadow lifted his nose and strained his ears, then ran to the left.

  “Gardner,” he said, turning his head just enough to catch sight of the older merc in his peripheral vision, “they brought five ships in—we have no way of knowing how many there are. Take as many men as you can and get to the entrance. If those explosions were them breaching it…shut it down, in case more are coming.” His pace didn’t slacken, but Gardner grunted his assent and peeled off at the next turn. “Newt, raise the barracks. Get the Lumar if you can. They want a bloody ambush, we’ll make it bloody.”

  “But what about our CASPers?” Gardner asked.

  “No time; if they get inside in any numbers, we’re fucked. We can’t get in a scrum with Pushtal! Once we have them held, we can think about retaliating.”

  He was a private, he had no business giving orders. But he was also a Porter, so he did anyway, and the mercs responded instantly and without complaint. He ran onward, searching for his father.

  Shadow nearly skidded around the corner before his training kicked in, and he stopped just in time, crouching and peering down the crossway. The huge vehicle bay was before him, a pair of flyers parked on the far side. Silent Night didn’t use it for anything except formations. That was where the assault had started.

  Alan and Rex stood back to back, fending off Pushtal from every direction. Three Humans were down nearby. Shadow couldn’t tell who, or if they were alive. The Pushtal were getting in each other’s way as they crowded in on Human and Zuul, and no one was shooting. Shadow readied his gun before realizing why—by luck or planning, Alan and Rex were making their stand near the bays’ oxygen lines. Blow those this close to the exterior of the base, and no one was getting out that corridor alive.

  Shadow took a deep breath and counted. Nine more Pushtal—eight, as Rex slammed the butt of his gun so hard, the Pushtal’s skull collapsed around it like pudding. He could take out some from this angle. He wasn’t the best shot, but he could—

  * * *

  Alan fought furiously, the time since the betrayal a blur in his mind now. He should have known better than to trust Pushtal. His son Drake had requested to meet them in CASPers, and he hadn’t listened to him. Now they were overrun with screaming, spitting, enraged cats. Killing his men!

  The initial exchange after the cat with the eye patch had started the fight hadn’t gone as badly as it could have. Men went down in the rec room, but so did almost all the cats. He paused a second to be sure Shadow and Rex had the situation in hand, then went after the leader, who had seemingly fled. Again, he was an idiot.

  Three troopers fell in with him, right into an ambush. A bullet creased his thigh and took the top off one of his men’s heads. Alan dove over the fallen man, firing at the enemy. Then more Pushtal were coming in. Clearly the explosion had breached the wall somewhere. He was about to be overrun.

  “Got your back, Dad!” Rex yelled, and suddenly he was back to back with his son.

  There wasn’t time to tell the boy how much he loved him, or his other children. There wasn’t enough time to fight them all. His gun was empty, and he clubbed a cat across the face. They were struggling to get at him, like Pushtal often did. They wanted to use their claws and teeth. Well, Humans didn’t have claws and teeth, they had weapons.

  His big knife was out, and he stabbed one through the neck, twisting and tearing it away.

  “We got this, Dad!” Rex yelled.

  “I think we’re going to—” He didn’t finish the sentence.

  * * *

  Shadow watched in slow motion as the clawed hand swept in and savaged his father. The man who’d raised them all, held them with their mother when they were sick, and helped teach them to walk staggered and dropped to his knees.

  “DAD!” It was more a visceral howl of pain and loss than a word, and Rex whipped around at the sound. Alan sa
nk out of sight, the Pushtal crowded in, and Shadow started shooting. He wouldn’t hit the oxygen lines. He wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t watch his father die, nor his brother, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t.

  Everything blurred around him, his vision becoming a tunnel focused on only the next striped back attacking his family. He got a sight picture and squeezed the trigger. Bang, bang, bang, three well-placed shots. Blood blossomed on stripes, and it spun away, howling in pain.

  They saw him now, and some turned, running toward him, and he closed with them. Sight picture, stroke the trigger. Pushtal falling. Another sight picture, another shot. One after another, he serviced the targets. Then the gun ran empty. The weapon fell away as he bared his teeth and lunged. The feline screamed, its voice suddenly turning into a gurgle as Shadow’s teeth ripped. The enemy fell away, and he leaped, blowing through three more.

  Fur and claws and teeth everywhere, he had his teeth in a throat and yanked, but someone else fell on top of him, claws raised and gleaming, and then as quickly as it hit him, the weight was gone, lifted away.

  Rex stood there, offering a hand. “Come on, Brother, let’s finish this.”

  Shadow growled in exultation and reached to take the hand—

  Blood splattered his face, hitting his eyes, his mouth, blood everywhere, a sea of it. He shook his head to clear the blood from his eyes and saw Rex’s face above him, still proud to find his brother fighting, mouth open as though he were about to ask a question.

  His expression still hadn’t changed when Rex fell to his knees, his chest a ruin, and Shadow shoved himself forward to catch his larger brother. It wouldn’t end this way. Not like this.

  Rex’s eyes lost focus like Pierce’s, like their father’s.

  The noise that left Shadow’s chest wasn’t a howl, a snarl, or even a whimper. It tore something in him, like an explosion in the stars, like a star dying, like death.

  He never entirely remembered the next few minutes with any clarity, but when his eyes cleared, he was surrounded by the dead.

  Pushtal, far too many. And his father. And his brother.

  So much blood. He checked for vitals. There were none. First Dad, now his brother, the strongest among them. His heart staggered in his chest, shards stabbing with each breath.

  Shadow threw back his head and howled until his throat was raw.

  Then he stood once more. There were more Pushtal, there had to be. Eye Patch wasn’t in this pile of dead, and even space pirates couldn’t be stupid enough to think they’d take a base full of Human and Lumar mercs with dozens of soldiers.

  He took a breath, reloaded his gun, then bent to retrieve his father’s long knife. He went in search of the rest of his people and more Pushtal to kill.

  * * *

  Drake raced to keep up with Bana. Entropy, how can an old Human move so fast in this gravity? Three more troopers accompanied them, though they’d only had time to throw on a bullet resistant vest, helmet, and cold weather jacket, along with weapons.

  “We need bloody CASPers,” Drake said.

  “No fucking time, doggo,” Bana snapped back. “We’re under attack.”

  I know that much, Drake grumbled to himself.

  The team reached the area of the explosion in little time, as the area of the base they occupied wasn’t large. Bana slid to a stop just before the last door and put an ear to it.

  “What’s up?” Drake asked.

  “Cats,” Bana said, and gestured at the door with a thumb. “Lock and load, boys.” Everyone readied weapons quickly. “Whatever is on the other side, don’t mess around thinking about it. Hit hard, hit fast. Surprise is on our side; they aren’t expected armed resistance.”

  Everyone nodded, including Drake.

  “Right, Drake, pull the door open.”

  Drake did as he was told, only realizing afterwards that the sergeant had chosen him so he’d be out of the line of fire.

  The door moved, and all five of the others moved forward, the front two kneeling so the rear three could fire over them.

  “That’s a fuckton of pussies,” Bana muttered as he leveled his Heckler & Glock battle rifle and opened fire.

  Drake was glad he habitually wore electronic hearing protection. Zuul ears were considerably more sensitive than Human, so gunfire could cause real pain. The noise-dampening devices responded to decibel spikes within a millisecond, far faster than his ears could perceive them. Drake heard one of the men say, “Get some,” before the ear protection cut off the cacophony of gunfire.

  A second later he leaned around with his own rifle to see dozens of twitching, bloody Pushtal bodies before a massive rend in the wall. Obviously they’d used explosives and had been busy gathering forces inside prior to attacking.

  “Snooze you lose, cats!” He laughed and gunned another one down. Like snagging crabs in the surf. An instant later a wave of Pushtal fairly flew in through the breach, weapons blazing. A grunt and thud made Drake looked down to see one of the four other men fall away, his face a bloody mess.

  “Get back, ya doby!” Bana barked and pushed Drake away from the door as the others scrambled out of the way. “Hill, grenade!”

  “Too right!” A second later, the man flung the grenade around the door frame and into the room. Everyone around Drake got their bodies as far away as possible. A cat cried in surprise an instant before the grenade went off. Kaboom!

  Bana peaked around the corner and grunted. “Cleared them out, let’s go!” The five of them moved as quickly as they could into the room. What had once been a machinery space of some sort was now a slaughterhouse, awash in blood and cat guts. Drake gave a savage grin as he moved through it. One of the Pushtal still had enough life to reach for him, and he shot it in the face.

  “Later, shark biscuit,” he said as he moved by.

  However, the problem now was the cold. They only had jackets, not full cold suits. The Humans pulled down their face shields with built-in breathers and slid on gloves while Drake flipped on the light armor’s atmo processor. He also had heaters in his armor, though they wouldn’t operate long without a recharge.

  The group reached the breach in the wall and took advantage of the cover provided by broken wall sections and other debris to look outside.

  “Fuck me dead,” Bana cursed. There were five flyers parked within view, and they were simply teaming with cats pouring out. He took out a grenade and looked at the range, frowned, then glanced at Drake.

  “Here you go, lad,” he said and handed him the grenade. “Try and hit the middle vehicle, it looks like it has other equipment aboard.”

  Drake smiled hugely, taking the grenade and nodding. “Piece of piss,” he said and glanced outside, a quick peek. The Pushtal were gathering in large numbers, no doubt planning to rush the breach again. They seemed quite confident, though perhaps a little reluctant after the explosion inside. All the better, Drake thought.

  Growing up in Brisbane, Drake had always been the most athletic of the pups. Surfing was his passion, but he’d found baseball at a young age, including playing on the company softball team at a mere nine years old.

  The grenade held 250 grams of K2, an explosive brought to Earth by the Galactic Union in the early days of first contact. Containing more than four times the explosive force of C4, the binary explosive was incredibly stable, and pretty much the perfect explosive for grenades. With timer, detonator, and casing, the grenade weighed a manageable 400 grams.

  Using the quickly assembled mental map, Drake snapped the safety retainer, yanked the primer pin, and pitched the weapon around the corner of the shattered wall with a hard flicking motion. The grenade could be set for either timed detonation (from 5 to 50 seconds) or impact. He’d set it for 10 seconds, so it could roll. The throw felt perfect, so he turned to Bana and grinned.

  “Cheeky blighter, aren’t you?” Bana asked. A few rounds were bouncing off the side of the wall, but despite the risk, everyone craned for a peek as the grenade bounced off the frozen ground twice and r
olled under the middle vehicle to come to rest. Ka-BOOM!

  The vehicle went up, then whatever it was carrying exploded, too. KARUMP! It was a high order detonation, which sent fire, debris, other flyers, and Pushtal flying in all directions.

  “Yeah, maybe a little,” Drake admitted as he cleared the hole, and debris fell and pocked against the wall. A second later, the sporadic fire became a continuous fusillade.

  “Reckon you pissed ‘em off, mate,” Dyffid said.

  “Sergeant Bana to any available troopers, grab anything you’ve got and come to Section 9, Room 212. We’re in the dunny here!”

  All five of them found as much cover as they could and began returning fire.

  * * *

  Ripley followed her sister Sonya as she moved through the base, searching for the location of the second explosion. Comms were spazzy, but Anderle took one look at their light armor and tossed them guns and quick orders. Reports were coming in of fighting in the rec hall and main vehicle bay. She knew that was where their father was along with Rex, Drake, and Shadow. She didn’t have time to worry about it. The whole picture was hard to put together, but clearly they were under heavy attack by the Pushtal.

  They passed a door and saw Yanow, the female Lumar who was, she supposed, the company executive for Big Strong Fist. Nobody quite understood how it worked, only that it seemed the females were as smart as the males were dumb. It was either an incredibly well-kept secret, or something no one had known until recently.

  “What is happening?” she asked. “Ifka does not answer comms.”

  “The Pushtal are attacking,” Ripley said.

  Yanow looked at her for a second, then nodded and disappeared back the way she’d come.

  “Well, that was interesting. Think they’ll help with the fighting?” Sonya asked.

  “No clue,” Ripley said.

  “So much for a bloody truce,” Sonya grunted, her ears twitching.