| |
—-
IVATA AND I ARE, FOR the most part, fearless. Some could say that for all the strength in our spirits and bodies, we are easily the daftest bastards ever to live. I couldn’t really argue with them, I’ve done things that had bewildered others and even led me to wonder how I was alive at my age. But I am a soldier at heart, and so is he.
Mallory is crazy on a level that usually requires Vandorians to submit to an institution for treatment.
While the fleet maneuvered into position to fight the Phelbs, Ivata, the Knights, Peter and Mallory and I reported to the hangar with the sole intention of boarding a Phelb capital ship.
Like I said, our unorthodox tactics can easily be misunderstood as insanity. I prefer to think that the violence of action creates...
...I’ll be honest, as I’m not prone to lies: I enjoy chaos. I know that may seem strange from a military man with a military father, obsessed with order and precision. Strange, indeed, but I like it.
Ivata was loading weapons into Apocalypse One, Mallory’s ship. She was, this time, fully armed and armored, along with the rest of the Stalkers, myself being the only exception. At my height and perhaps overly dense with muscle, I struggle in armor, so I choose to take my chances with simple ballistic armor with a vacuum-tight body suit, rated for one hour in space. It was the same we were all going to use on this mission, the one my father called insane.
But, as insane as I was, my father was far worse. After lecturing me on how I would be dead in a few hours and I would never know life or the pleasures of a woman, he said that the best idea would be to launch the Eternity at the Phelb flagship, strike hard with her main guns, and then drop us in the confusion.
This was, by my definition, insanity.
However, I strive to make my story less and less about my stuffy attitude in the opening hours of the war.
With fifty operators packed into a dropship, it wobbled a little as it rose off the deck and ran its preflight checklist. I was copilot for Mallory; contrary to her earlier conviction, I am rated, and quite good, at piloting dropships and even space fighters.
One must ensure that he has the skills to extract from a messy battle, after all.
The communicator chirped, and my father’s voice came over the channel, on the general frequency. “Shadow of Eternity to the Phelb Fleet. You are approaching sovereign territory, to which you are not welcome. Turn your ships to a heading of One hundred-eighty degrees and leave the Gilbaglia system at once.”
There was a short pause and the comm crackled with a slimy sounding voice. “Shadow of Eternity, this is High Lord Davon Wrathe of the Phelb Empire, sent here on the holiest of missions to end the awful blasphemy wrought forth by the Vandorian people.”
Another pause. “Hi, Davon. It’s Artillion. How’s the knee?”
The cockiness in my father’s voice made me wonder why everyone kept calling me crazy.
“Artillion Valentine!” The other man boomed. “What a pleasure it will be to wipe you from this existence and erase your name from history.”
The comm clicked again, my father had switched channels. “All ships stand fast. Apocalypse One, your target is now leading the formation. Enable stealth measures and launch at once.” The channel changed back. “Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me to learn that you survived, even if that news is depressing. Did you come back for me to destroy more of your ships or are you just that stupid?”
The comm sounded now over our helmet speakers, as the dropship rose off the deck and slipped out into open space, the drive oddly muffled thanks to the stealth baffles over the engines.
“You will roll over and die.” Davon growled. “We will not be defeated a second time.”
“Well, from what we’ve seen of your Marauders and your precious infantry, you’re not much more of a match against us this time than you were before.”
This was true. What we lacked, however, was superior numbers.
“We will see.” The comm clicked off and I chuckled slightly.
“What’s so funny?” Mallory asked, her voice tense. She was afraid, a symptom I did not suffer. Adrenaline sang in my veins, slowing my perception of time and making everything seem sharp.
“I will take great pleasure in sending him to meet his God.” I said softly.
She sighed. “Great. I’m in love with a lunatic.”
I smirked, then switched my own comm unit on. “Listen up. Our training was harsh. We all hurt and suffered, and we all were forged into fighting men and women in those years. This is our first true test. You can be assured that we will face their Marauders here, on their own home field. Do not hesitate, give no quarter.”
There was no reply. My men were too disciplined for that, except maybe Peter, who seemed to think he was an operator as well.
The Phelb ship loomed ahead of us. “Breaching charge or hangar bay?” Mallory asked, her fingers dancing over the controls like a concert pianist.
“Are they launching fighters?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
I grinned, and again toggled my comm. “Colonel Valentine to Viper Lead.”
“Go ahead, sir.” Came the automatic reply. The Vipers were fast attack fighters that were matte black with a single yellow spine down the port side of the hull, with powerful engines and loaded with missiles. They were piloted by elite Navy pilots, the same stock as Mallory.
“Position report.”
“Two clicks from the head of the formation. Do we have a target, sir?”
“Lead ship in formation, blow the starboard airlock in twenty seconds.”
“Understood, sir, beginning attack run in fifteen seconds.”
I glanced at Mallory, raised an eyebrow. “Hey, so, think they have emergency vacuum protocols?”
“We’re about to find out.” She replied, her voice tight.
Fifteen seconds was an eternity when you were easing across space towards a group of ships that was going to destroy your planet, I decided. Watching as the black hulled fast attack fighters that had been hiding out in the choke for the better part of a day waiting for the moment when they had to strike.
Warheads shot out of the ports of twenty ships at once, launching a surprise attack. One of the volleys struck the landing bay hatch and blew it open. Immediately, Mallory drove the controls down, abandoning stealth and the dropship plowed into the hangar just as the emergency locks slammed shut.
She dropped onto the deck of the ship hard and bounced once, twice. “Is it flyable?” I asked as I unbuckled my harness.
She pulled two switches and checked her readouts. “We might have a bumpy ride, but she’ll fly.” She replied, pulling her rifle out from its locking position at her side. She smacked the release for the back ramp on the wall and glanced at me. “Are we going to make it?”
“We’re going to make it.” I replied.
The sound of weapons fire began to crackle up from the rear of the ship as the Phelbs in the hangar opened fire.
Mallory and I charged into the fight, a handful of guards with sidearms defending a double-opening door. “That must be the main access,” Ivata said, his voice completely calm, over the helmet speaker.
“Agreed. Grenades.” I replied. I yanked the first of six of my fragmentation grenades off my belt harness and tossed it over and behind the entrenched defenders.
The deck shuddered with the concussive booms, and the doors buckled inwards. I pointed at a computer station that extruded from the wall. “Sergeant Kelis, hack and shut down the security network.
“Program running, sir.” Kelis replied.
It was a full ten seconds, which I watched the clock count down and pulled the charging handle on my rifle.
The locks clunked, and the doors slid open. I motioned my men to either side of the door as they opened. Mallory pressed in close behind me and I could feel her breath ragged and uneven on my neck.
“Calm.” I whispered and pushed her gently back. Someone pulled her back until she was last in line.
The doors open, and the next thing I recall was the complete absence of hearing as a deafening staccato crackle of automatic weapons fire. My rifle bucked against my shoulder as if possessed. Someone cried out in pain, and I knew that was not one of my men, as the bio-signs of my team were pulsing across the heads-up display in my helmet, and everyone showed elevated adrenaline but no injuries yet.
“Left clear!” Ivata called.
“Right clear!” Someone called back.
My hearing faded back in and I blinked sweat from my eyes. I realized suddenly that I’d spent a transfixed moment reloading my rifle. There were a dozen bodies in the corridor beyond, and blackened holes pocked the wall covered in blood.
Ivata lifted off his helmet and scratched his scalp. “Well.” He said. “That was entertaining.”
“Spread out, make forward towards the bridge.” I said, stepping into the lead. A hand grasped my arm.
“Wait,” Peter said, his voice muffled by his helmet. He hadn’t quite figured out the blink controls in the heads-up display, to activate his comm. “The bridge isn’t forward.”
I stopped and glanced at him. “Where is it?”
“The citadel is in the center of the ship.”
“Oh,” I said, at a loss for words. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Why would you put your command center at the front of the ship?” Peter asked.
“Why would you put it in the middle of the ship?” I retorted. “How can you even get a visual?”
“We have sensors and cameras on the hull...”
“Boys.” Mallory said firmly.
“Right.” I replied. “To the citadel then.”
The operators broke into a light trot, pausing at intersections but we were oddly unchallenged.
“Where is everyone?” I whispered to Peter.
“The citadel. Phelb ships aren’t really staffed like your cruisers.” Peter whispered back. “Only carriers have large groups of soldiers. There might be a company of Marauders or a light company of holy guards but otherwise there won’t be much resistance.”
“Holy guards?” Kelis asked.
“Yes, they guard the high priests and temple clerics that travel with the fleet.”
“Should we worry?” I asked.
“You? Probably not. Me? I’m terrified.” Peter managed a shaky smile.
“Just stay behind us.” Ivata said, his voice completely calm and almost bored.
“You too, Mallory.” I added. “We can’t have our pilot being shot.”
“Yes, sir.” She replied.
We came to a large intersection and Peter motioned us to stop. “The citadel is through those doors.” He pointed at a massive set of polished sliding doors that contrasted nicely with the polished white walls and black floors.
“Breaching charges?” I asked. Kelis nodded and began to step forward.
Peter shook his head. “They’ll open.”
I frowned at him, then pulled my helmet off. “What do you mean, ‘they’ll open’?” I demanded.
“They’re not locked.” Peter replied, pointing at the doors. “Why would they lock the doors? God protects them.”
“Will your high priest be in there?” I asked.
“Davon? Yes. He’ll most likely be seated on the throne just to the right of the doors.”
I threw my rifle around onto my back and drew my sidearm, a .50 caliber pistol built by Vandorian Arms. I racked the slide to charge the weapon with my index finger, checking to ensure the match-grade round fed into the chamber properly, then stood and walked towards the doors. “Then let’s go and say hello.”
—-
