Endless Night (The Guild Wars Book 3)

by Tim C. Taylor

  The double layer of overlapping micro-shields flared as it dissipated the laser energy. An aperture opened in the shield array for half a second, just long enough for the particle cannon beam to spear out and slice clean through the nearest Selroth craft.

  The camera monitor showed bodies and water splashing out and then freezing in the frigid regions of the upper atmosphere. They would not be the last. Kryanzi painted the next target while the cannon’s capacitor recharged.

  The gun bubbles were just one of the many layers of defenses that protected Romalin. Entire fleets and armies could hurl themselves against the island bulwark, but all they could ever achieve was to dash themselves into oblivion. Romalin would always prevail.

  Suddenly, Kryanzi felt himself flung through the water by an unexpected pressure wave. The rear blast door had opened from the interior of the mountain. He pulsed his bell, propelling himself back to his command position, readying to lash out with his stinging arms at any intruder.

  But it wasn’t the Selroth enemy who had somehow infiltrated the island. It was a squad of marines, soldiers from the new race that was everywhere. Tyzhounes.

  “Why are you here?” he demanded. “Our work is glorious and not to be disturbed.”

  To his astonishment, the Tyzhounes ignored his angry challenge and swam through the turret to his gun crew. “Stop this immediately!”

  Professional to the end, his gun crew remained at their posts, ignoring the rude intrusion, concentrating instead on readying the weapon to destroy its next target.

  And at their posts, they were slaughtered.

  Kryanzi always regarded the Tyzhoune tail as an aberration, assuming its excessive length and bony structure was an ugly form of sexual display.

  How wrong he was.

  The Tyzhounes whipped their long tails through the water turret and sliced the sharpened bone tips through the upper tentacles of his crew. Without hesitation, they swept them down and cut deep gouges through his gun team’s bells, spilling the life-fluids of his crew into the turret water.

  Then the Tyzhounes came for him.

  “Why?” he demanded of the one who came forward to dispatch him.

  “This asset is ours now,” answered the murderer.

  Kryanzi tensed in readiness for his final battle, but the Tyzhoune appeared to be in no hurry. It pointed to its bulbous bone head. “Look into my eyes, Gun Master.”

  “But…but you don’t have eyes. None of your people do.”

  “Indeed.” The creature bared its fangs at him. “And that is why we shall thrive in the Endless Night.”

  The Tyzhoune slashed with its tail, but Kryanzi was now wise to the tactic and dodged down, though his enemy’s tail-tip cut a channel through the edge of his soft bell.

  Kryanzi came at the Tyzhoune, gripping with the tentacles that fringed his bell and flinging his long stinging arms over it. He oozed every drop of venom into the vile creature.

  The Tyzhoune only grinned back. “You’ll have to do better than that, jellyfish.”

  Kryanzi no longer knew what to do. The venomous stingers were his only attack. He had nothing left.

  He clung there pitifully as the Tyzhoune whipped its tail over its head and speared down through Kryanzi’s brain.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  The swarm of drones crested the trees and fed Jex a view of the Selroth dropship that had landed on a swath of beach to the southwest of Romalin, disgorging a platoon of Selroth mercs into the crashing breakers.

  The Dengie-class was a peculiar-looking craft. In fact, it resembled nothing so much as the flying saucers of the 1950s. He wasn’t stupid enough to underestimate it, though. Not only had more than half the dropships survived the anti-air defenses, but they had immediately plunged beneath the water to attack the undersea ones. Now this one was showing off its versatility by supporting an amphibious landing.

  It lashed out at the drones with an upper turret laser. Fire also came from laser-armed Selroth who’d established a defensive perimeter around the craft while their comrades advanced up the beach.

  The drones started dying. Quickly.

  But they provided a great distraction.

  “Right then,” Jex told his squad. “Light them jets.” The ground burst into flame as the eight troopers of his squad ignited the controlled explosion of their jumpjets. They soared above the narrow band of trees that hugged the foothills of the Romalin Mountains.

  He ignored the Selroth troopers and pumped rounds from his magnetic accelerator cannon into the top of the landing craft.

  Beside him, Turnaround acted as wingwoman, shooting any Selroth who had a bead on him and flicking her laser shield out to protect them both.

  The plan was simple. Jex, Plunger, Stix, and Bolland would take out the craft with their MACs while the other half of the squad kept them alive long enough to do so.

  Bolland went down at a blast from the laser turret, but the concentrated MAC fire paid off when an explosion blew the turret and the top of the dropship high into the air.

  “Missiles!” shouted Jex as he fell toward the beach.

  The troopers armed with missile packs on their shoulders fired a volley at the smoking wound in the Selroth craft, but Jex was too busy concentrating on the enemy on the beach to see the effect.

  He came down on two Selroth digging a foxhole into the sand. He deflected a laser blast from one with his shield before emptying the last of his MAC into it, but then his shield succumbed to the bullets of the other.

  Turnaround finished that one off with a burst from her autocannon.

  He landed heavily in the sand, spraying it into the air and coating some of his sensors.

  A terrific explosion announced the final death throe of the Selroth craft and the imminent arrival of a cascade of seawater that would hopefully wash off the sand.

  “Just like a summer’s day on Southwold beach,” he announced, jumping into the half-constructed hole to reduce his profile while his empty MAC changed to the secondary drum on his back.

  Turnaround joined him in the pit, covering his rear and servicing targets with liberal application of 15mm rounds.

  Around them, CASPers were firing, stomping, and slicing through the aquatic mercs, following his tactics of getting as close as possible now that they’d taken out the heavy support of their assault craft.

  His status board flared a warning: ammo feed jam. His MAC was useless.

  “Sarge, forget about your MAC,” Turnaround told him. “There’s a fragment of Selroth assault craft embedded in your feed pipe.”

  “Damn. Thanks for the warning. I’ll just have to show these sea devils some good old-fashioned Suffolk steel.”

  Sparks burst over his right arm as a pair of Selroth charged him, firing pistols in one hand and using the other to hold the sticky bombs Cleggy’s squad had warned them about.

  The Selroth drew back their throwing arms.

  “Jump!” Jex shouted at Turnaround, pumping his jets.

  But she was ahead of him, already in the air and firing down at the Selroth.

  Jex kept low to the ground, merely leaping—barely—over the thrown sticky bombs. He landed in front of the Selroth trooper Turnaround had missed.

  The humanoid face split into an evil grin as it raised its carbine.

  Jex realized that Turnaround hadn’t missed at all. This had to be a heavy trooper, with powered armor able to resist her fire.

  On instinct, he flicked out the switchblade on his left arm and aimed at the pipes that ran up the alien’s back. He leaned in for a CASPer body check. The titanium-edged, woven carbon steel blade sliced open the alien’s water supply, making it jerk in shock. Its laser fire went wide, cutting off Jex’s CASPer hand, but that left plenty of mech and angry Suffolk man to slam forcibly into the suffocating Selroth and bulldoze it to the ground.

  Jex lifted his CASPer’s leg as high it would go and stomped down with all his amplified strength, driving the Selroth’s torso thre
e feet into the sand. The pit he created filled rapidly with bloody water.

  A new array of gyro warnings flashed over his Tri-V, telling him that his stomping action had left his CASPer in a state of critical imbalance.

  It was falling over.

  He touched his jumpjets again, skimming low across the sand and skidding to a halt on his knees.

  “Damn, that’s embarrassing.”

  “We won’t tell, Sergeant,” chorused Turnaround and Plunger as they hooked hands under his arms and helped him to his feet.

  They were laughing. The melee was over, and no Selroth remained to surrender.

  “Watson, Blackhawk, Plunger, watch the water. The seas are not our friend. Turnaround, sensors peeled on the land and sky. Stix and Frontpage, check we’ve accounted for all the Selroth.”

  Jex contemplated the scarred beach, littered with Selroth bodies, and one Mk 8 CASPer that had been caught by a heavy laser. He drew closer to Bolland’s mech. It had fallen on its back, and although it had been severely damaged, several systems were still functional, including the medical suite that confirmed its pilot was dead.

  He had to check for himself, though. He magnified the view through the wounds cut into the CASPer’s shell and inspected the interior. Illuminated by flashing warnings of his medical state from his own Tri-V, the man was very dead.

  “Sorry, Bolland.”

  Jex rolled over the mech and drew out Bolland’s personal effects canister from its back, securing it to his own CASPer. They would try to retrieve Bolland and his Mk 8 later, but events were still running hot.

  “Colonel Mishkan-Ijk,” he reported to his superior inside the island, “scratch one Dengie-class dropship and a short platoon of Selroth. We lost Bolland and got beaten up quite a bit, but we’re still operational.”

  “Did the Selroth have allies?”

  “No. Allies? Why would they have allies?”

  “Colonel Goz-Han has been locked out of the command network. It could be the island defenders don’t want us confusing their operation, or it could be we’ve already lost the underwater battle, though we don’t see how that could be possible. Either way, the colonel says we are to combine all Midnighter forces. Return to Staging Post Delta. Wait one—Unholy depths! I think you just fought off a feint attack. I’m getting reports of five Selroth assault craft beaching on the northeast side of the island.”

  “Five? Sir, we took out one, five is too much.”

  “You won’t be alone. Colonel Goz-Han and Force Commander Batir-Lek will stay here with the command squad and try to establish links with the existing defense force. I will meet you with a Goltar force at Staging Point Epsilon with Oranjeklegg’s squad. Expend jump juice freely, Sergeant Jex. We need to get a wriggle on.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Jex thrust the handless right arm of his CASPer around the flank of the burning Selroth light tank. He’d lost his hand and his MAC, but he still had wrist cameras.

  Unfortunately, the view it gave him was worse every time he looked.

  The problem was the three Selroth dropships on the edge of the waves, and the heavy supporting fire they provided. They were flanked by two wrecked craft, but the Midnighters hadn’t the means to destroy any more.

  The long beach fed up through dunes into a cliff face, and at the top of the cliffs stood two access buildings that fed into the tunnel network that riddled the island. Three CASPers, Mishkan-Ijk, and another half-dozen Goltar sheltered behind the nearest of these access points, trying to place fire onto the second access building a couple of hundred yards further along the cliff. Selroth mercs were swarming around the building, trying to win it as a route down into the island.

  Led by Turnaround, another four CASPers and ten Goltar were stuck between the two buildings, sheltering behind the wrecks of more Selroth armored vehicles.

  If Turnaround’s team could flank the second access building, they could push the Selroth off the cliff face. But they were being shelled by the Selroth assault ships, and if they moved to assault, they’d be cut down by the turret lasers in the same damned dropships.

  “I’ve got no choice,” he concluded. “I’ll have to draw their fire.”

  “That’s suicide, Sergeant,” said Turnaround.

  “Look, Berenice. I’ve got no ranged weapons. My jump juice is out. You staying put is the real suicide tactic because those shells are whittling you down.”

  “Sergeant, I will not order you to do this,” said Mishkan-Ijk, “but I agree with your assessment. You will have the honor of counting down to our action. Good luck, Sergeant Obadiah Jex.”

  “Okay then. On the count of four. One for the money. Two for the show. Three—bloody hell!”

  Explosions rippled through the three Selroth dropships.

  “What the—” Jex stormed out of cover, drawing rifle darts that nicked his flank armor, but the big guns on the Selroth dropships remained silent.

  The water churned white beneath the waterline as the ships sank, holed from below.

  Silhouetted by the late afternoon sun, a heavy metal figure strode out of the waves, covered with seaweed and dripping with water.

  “Bloomin’ ’eck,” cried Jex over the general channel. “It’s Moby bloody Binnig. Don’t stand gawping, m’lovelies. Up and fuckin’ at ’em.”

  The clifftops burst into frantic motion. Covering fire poured from Mishkan-Ijk’s party by the access building, while those who were sheltered behind the wrecked light tanks bounded or slithered across the ground to flank the Selroth-held position. Three of the CASPers used their remaining jump juice to attack from the air. Frontpage took a burst of fire that set his CASPer status flashing amber in Jex’s squad status board, but Frontpage would survive.

  The Selroth, not so much.

  The mech striding up the beach added its fire, shooting rockets into the Selroth party and spraying them with its coil gun. It was a battered old Mk 6. Not Midnighter kit, then.

  The Selroth fled into the trees.

  Mishkan-Ijk sent a squad of Goltar in pursuit, ordering the CASPers to reorganize and hold the beach while he paid his compliments to this mysterious Mk 6.

  The Goltar lieutenant colonel dropped off the cliff, easily absorbing the impact by bunching his seven tentacles. He ran up the CASPer, climbing it in moments, and seemed to glue himself to the top of its canopy.

  A few seconds later, a new node appeared in the squad net.

  “Radio check,” said a woman’s voice.

  “Loud and clear, Major Sun!” cried Jex. “Ma’am, you have quite the talent for making a dramatic entrance.”

  “So it seems. Jex, Cleggy, Mishkan-Ijk, I know there’s been a nightmare screw-up that’s left us with confusing allegiances that might appear to conflict. I’m fighting for the Spine Patriots today, but we find ourselves in temporary alliance with the Goltar and the Midnight Sun Free Company. Let us worry about any disagreements between us for another day. Let us fight this battle together.”

  Mishkan-Ijk dropped down and flattened himself along the sand. What was that? Some kind of bow?

  “Major,” said the Goltar. “I yield command to you.”

  “Very well, I accept. But—Wait, that was far too easy. Why, Mishkan-Ijk?”

  “Major, the nebula is changing. There are many who feel the asset we Goltar have clutched to our crests for so long has become tainted with shame. The Goltar under my command will fight today on behalf of the people of the nebula, as I believe you do.”

  “Mishkan-Ijk.” Jex could hear the incredulity in Sun’s voice. He didn’t blame her. When things seemed too good to be true, they usually were. “Let’s get this straight. Are you a mercenary offering to fight for free? In the name of the common people? Are you secretly an idealist working for the Marxist Guild?”

  The Goltar commander snapped in anger. “Careful,” he raged, “lest I change my mind. We are Goltar. We are the consummate mercenaries. We do not fight for free. We fight for the redemptio
n of our honor, and honor is priceless.”

  “That I can understand and accept,” said Sun. “Before we formulate a plan, I need to know your status.”

  “Wait one,” said Mishkan-Ijk, and looped Jex into a command-level conversation. “Colonel Goz-Han, we can’t leave you inside the island. We’ve been reinforced by a local militia.” He glanced up at Sun’s CASPer. “It includes mech support. You just need to hold out until—”

  The Goltar fell silent.

  “That can’t be good,” Jex muttered.

  Mishkan-Ijk slumped to the ground. He remained there immobile for a couple of seconds. Then he pumped himself back up.

  “The island is lost,” he declared. “I’m trying to arrange immediate evac. The colonel and his squad will delay the enemy, buying us a little time.”

  An underground detonation shook the beach.

  “That would be the delay.”

  “But how?” Jex queried. “I thought we’d beaten the Selroth.”

  “We have become ensnared by an intelligence failure. The Selroth aren’t our only foe.”

  The whine of high-powered motors came from the coast to the north. A trio of motorboats hove into view, firing rockets into the water. Larger craft appeared behind.

  “It’s okay,” said Sun. “They’re Spine Patriots. They’re with me—oh shit! Trouble!”

  She bounded up the beach toward the cliff face. “Help me! I want two CASPers to grab me by the arms and lift me up. Mishkan-Ijk, set a watch on our rear and any routes up from underground. Everyone else, take cover and face the beach.”

  Jex hurried to help out with his good left arm. He didn’t need to ask what she meant, because boiling out the sea came nightmare creatures of washed black stone flicking long tails. They had no eyes, which gave them a hideously demonic appearance.

  CASPers took them out easily enough with MAC fire and auto cannons, but not for long. They were all low on ammo.