image
image
image

Chapter Nine

image

—-

One

—-

image

THE AIR OVER ITALY was as clear as the air on Vandor, I figured as the dropship plowed through the atmosphere, dodging ground fire as Raptor squadron assaulted the cities defense network. Contrails of missiles and flashing cannon batteries as each side fired heavy weapons.

I glanced over at Sergeant Kelis. “You ever feel like you want to do anything else, Sergeant?”

“Not even for a minute, Colonel.” He replied with a grin.

“Get that mask on.” I said, pointing to the mask on my own face.

“Sir, if the air is clean...”

“It makes us look scary.” I said, pulling a white marker out of my pocket and holding it up. “We don’t even have the element of surprise, Sergeant, we need Phelbs to break and run.”

“Ah.” He said, then pulled on his mask and allowed me to paint a crude looking skull on his face. I was not a very good artist. “Very good sir.”

“Get everyone squared away.” I ordered, waving a hand around. “Make sure everyone hears.” I stepped closer to the cockpit of the Scaler dropship and leaned inside. “What’s the status of the orbital team?”

“They are realigning the weapons to fire on the fleet.” He replied. “We’ve got all four stations and both shipyards under control.”

I nodded, impressed. “Relay my pleasure to Lieutenant Grace, please. And the status of our dreadnoughts?”

He glanced at his tactical display. “Three of the four battleships are out of action, sir. And, sir, I received a message from Commander Valentine before the jamming cut in on our long-range communications, it appears she’s dispatched a fast packet ship to Earth, they’re expected inside of a week. Five hundred Night stalkers, as well as Sergeant Stevins, Corporal Vearse and Lieutenant Venlent.”

I grinned broadly. “Outstanding, Ensign, thank you for that wonderful news.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Fifteen dropships were streaking into earth’s atmosphere at supersonic speeds, all bearing down on what was once Vatican City. We heard stories of heavy resistance and I couldn’t see a single member of my team that did not want a piece of the Phelb presence there. This was our primordial home world, where humanity had evolved. The Phelb Empire had taken that and turned it into something vile, and even if there were only two thousand of us, I wanted a piece of getting it back.

The dropships flared as they approached. “This is the Pantheon,” The pilot informed me. “It’s where Wingell said his evidence was, somewhere down in the catacombs or something. I don’t have any better information than that, Colonel Valentine.”

“It’ll do.” I replied calmly, checking the clamps on my sniper rifle and the sling on my carbine. “Night stalkers...let’s move.”

The back ramp slammed open and small arms fire poured into the cabin. I realized in a flash that this was not going to be like the invasion of Vandor. These Phelbs knew how to fight.

“Cover!” I shouted. “Pilot, open side doors!”

The sides of the dropship opened, and Night stalkers leaped out and dove to the ground, rolling behind the basalt pillars and columns of the ancient church. I stalked out, oblivious to the fire and glanced around. I unslung my carbine and sighted down, letting my adrenaline flood my system once again. I had learned from one of the doctors on the Shockwave that this talent was a synergetic effect of the mild genetic tweaks we all got at birth. Some Vandorians suffered from these effects, some thrived. I learned that my father had this ability, as well as near perfect vision in the dark.

As the adrenaline flooded me, I felt and saw more than I could have imagined. My perception of time slowed to a near stop, and I watched as a Phelb soldier fired at me. I twisted my shoulders and sidestepped, bringing up my sidearm and firing a single shot at extreme range. It took the Phelb square in his forehead and I fired twice more, killing the soldiers and giving eight of the fifty in my dropship a narrow alley to charge up. That was all the chance they would need to end this corridor of fighting.

I fired at two more entrenched gunners as the dropship lifted off and rose into the sky, circling around and unleashing a hail of rounds into the ancient building. I felt somewhat sad about this, the building was almost ten thousand years old and had withstood everything that Earth had thrown at it, except for an angry Vandorian ship.

Bummer for them, I decided.

I fired two more rounds with my right hand, and then ducked as another round slipped past me. I chuckled to myself as the fire began to die off from the general area as the Night stalkers ripped them to shreds from behind.

I sighed and looked around and had a mild shock when I saw two huge men in armor standing near me. They were huge. Beyond huge. Each man stood over eight feet tall and must have weighed four hundred pounds, and they weren’t exactly straining their belts with their weight.

“Destota Valentine.” One of them rumbled. His voice reminded me of rocks grinding together.

“That’s me.” I replied, holding out my weapon hand.

“Surrender.” The other man-thing said.

“I don’t surrender to anyone, including you.” I replied calmly, swung my weapon hand around and fired a single shot into the face of the man-thing on the left. A bloody mist of brain and blood sprayed from the back of his head and I glanced at the other. “I don’t handle orders very well either, I’m sure you understand.”

“His holiness the Pope has ordered the Praetorian Guard to deliver you alive.” The man rumbled. “And unharmed.”

There was a heavy clank behind me and tw0 more of the behemoths thudded in behind me and I grinned. “See, unharmed, surrender, those are words I’m not good at.”

“Destota Valentine.” Someone growled behind me. “You will surrender.”

There were eight of them now. I raised an eyebrow and spoke into my headset. “Hey um...Sergeant Kelis, I could use some help here.”

I paused again. Oh right, I’d ordered them to take the catacombs. Even our advanced communications gear wasn’t going to penetrate the ground that far down. I glanced up. The dropships were fighting with fighters, our fighters were tangled up with fighters. So, I really was on my own for this one.

I didn’t waste more time thinking. I took a half step backwards and when the monster behind me reached out for me, I leaped forward with my considerable strength in my legs and hammered into the first of the guard I encountered. I hammered into him and even with his weight much greater than mine, I knocked him off balance and onto the ground. I leaped up to my feet and then executed a backwards somersault in air. My combat knife ripped free from the guard’s neck and I drove my free hand forward as I finished my somersault and fired three shots from my heavy pistol and into the third guard. Three down, one to go. I hit the ground and took a fast look around me. Phelb soldiers were gathering as I fought, shouldering their weapons. My lips peeled back in a snarl as I fired five more shots into the final guard, dropped the magazine from my pistol, rammed a fresh one home and then shot the three closest Phelb soldiers.

“Enough!” Someone boomed. I paused and glanced at the source of the voice, and saw a man walking towards me in heavy white robes with five more of the hulking guards. “Colonel Destota Valentine.” He said. I saw a Phelb twitch and shot him in the head. The man frowned. “Please stop shooting for a moment, Mr. Valentine.”

I shot another Phelb. “Oops.” I said with a mocking tone.

“Mr. Valentine, please, stop this at once. I have come here because I knew you would be here.”

“Good for you.” I replied and locked eyes with a Phelb who had a Marauder insignia on his shoulder. I grinned at him. “I killed Commander Jennisk.” I said. His eyes narrowed. “I put my knife into his heart with a flick of my wrist from two feet away. It was such a great shot. I even impressed myself.”

The Marauder surged towards me. I dropped my shoulder, flipped him over me and onto his back, then I shot him in the head.

There were three thudding footsteps and I dropped to a knee and fired the last six rounds into the Guard trying to trap me from behind. I took three running steps, pulled my carbine up and fired six times, killing six Phelbs, jumped and landed on a raised planting pot. I kept my right hand on the grip of my carbine and raised the other in a fist. “I am Destota Valentine of Vandor!” I shouted. “I am the leader of the most elite group of soldiers ever trained by humans!” I raised my weapon. There were probably a thousand Phelbs in the square now, all pointing weapons at me. My adrenaline was singing. “I will kill every one of you.”

“Destota Valentine.” One of the guards near the man in the white robes growled. “Surrender.”

I raised my carbine and shot him in the face. He hit the ground with a heavy thud. “No.” I replied.  

The final four guards crowded around the man in the robes. Probably the Pope, I assumed. “Mr. Valentine.” He said with a sigh in his voice. “Please stop killing my people.”

I laughed out loud as a Phelb fighter exploded under the hail of missiles from a Raptor squadron fighter. “I absolutely love the irony, here, dude.” I said with another harsh laugh. “You chased us off this planet. You...nearly destroyed our home world with your stupid religion and God and here we are fighting you on our own damn soil for the first time in six thousand years. And here you are asking me to stop!” I howled with laughter that was not characteristic of me. I had to distract them long enough for my soldiers to get the information Wingell wanted the Council to see. “You realize how stupid that sounds?”

“Mr. Valentine, you will join us on Falsun.”

“No, sorry, you see, I prefer to only fly first class. I don’t prefer to fly coach.”

“Your sarcasm will not save you from being captured.”

I knew that. They knew that. Hell, at this point, even Mallory probably knew that. I was good, and I knew that, and the Phelbs knew that too. There were dead bodies strewn about the square.

“Let us...converse here for a moment.” The man said, raising a hand. “I must tell you, Mr. Valentine, I am deeply impressed, in the last six thousand years, no man has killed a Praetorian Guard.”

“Well, put me right into that little book of yours then. That’s a real nice hat. Where does a guy get a hat like that?” I asked, nodding towards the headdress he wore. “I mean, it kind of makes you a target.” One of the guards growled and took a step towards me and ate a round from my carbine. “If you want to talk,” I said. “Then tell your goons to back the fuck off.”

There was a rumble of disapproval from the Phelbs and I made a decision. I clicked my comm on and transmitted in the clear to all Vandorian and Phelb vessels. I would want them all to hear this.

“Mr. Holy Hat guy,” I said. “Here’s the thing. My ancestors fled earth, you kept going. We fled mars, you kept going. We fled Pluto, and you kept going. We finally found a world and peaceful place for us to live and you fuckers just. Would. Not. Stop.” I shot four more times and killed all the Praetorian Guards that remained. “Goddamn it feels good to kill those guys,” I said. “Those fuckers are really creepy. What the hell did you do, breed them with bears?”

“Mr. Valentine listen to me...”

“Nah, I’m done listening.” I dropped my carbine to the ground and pulled my mask off, so they could all see my face. I pulled my sniper rifle off my back. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me. My wife will crush your home world.”

“Colonel Valentine.” The voice in my ear was the pilot of my dropship. “We are clear of jamming and transmitting to Commander Valentine. We will not abandon you or your men.”

“Save my men.” I whispered into my mic. “They have precious cargo. Get them home.”

“Death waits in the dark, Colonel. We will find you, sir.”

I inhaled and looked at the Pope with a grin. “Thanks.” I said aloud. “Just what I needed to hear.”

I raised my rifle and pulled the trigger. The last thing I remember seeing that day was the Pope’s head snapping back and his fancy hat go soaring into the air. For the first time since the Phelb Empire formed and drove my people off our own planet, a Pope of the Empire had been assassinated.

And I was the lucky one to pull the trigger on the bastard.

—-

image