He scrambled back over the wreckage to Séraphine. One movement detached the harness, and he held onto her arms, ready to pull her out.

  “I’m here,” said Harry, “One sec.”

  He grabbed her other arm, and on Nate’s command, they both pulled. To their astonishment, she lifted up easily, and then grunted in pain. Her visor was closed, but it was clear they’d roused her. Even better, there was no sign of blood or the metal having penetrated her body enough to pin her to the seat.

  “It’s Nate and Harry. We’re getting you out of here,” said Nate, “Don’t struggle.”

  It was not easy moving her back, and as they reached the rear of the fighter, a volley of shots hit around them.

  “We need to go!” Billy lifted Nate’s rifle and opened fire. The gun roared, and Nate’s eyes opened wide as he watched his friend standing in the open shouting, while the muzzle flash extended almost a metre from the weapon. Once empty he threw it down and turned to run.

  “Back…now!” Nate yelled.

  They moved as quickly as they could while carrying the two women between them. The open ground was a relatively small space, yet it seemed to take forever to reach the abandoned barricade used by the Separatists. They pushed through breaches in the metalwork and paused again to catch their breaths.

  “Watch out!” Billy shouted.

  Nate rolled to the right just as four enemy soldiers clambered over the barricade. Their armour was a mess, and one was missing an arm below the elbow. Behind them came the standard bearer, and what looked like a general or other senior commander. All carried rifles and carbines, with some even having bayonets fitted to them. He reached for his pistol, but it wasn’t there. Only Charlie was armed, and as she lifted her weapon, a round struck her in the shoulder. She spun around and crashed into the floor. The soldiers hesitated for a second as a handful of marines tried to hold them back. Two of the Separatists fell, but then with a cry of “For the Union!” they pushed on. One jumped down in front of Nate with a bayonetted rifle pointing right at him.

  “Xenophile scum!”

  The soldier pushed the blade forward, and Nate knew it was over. With no idea what else he could do, he lifted his hands as though about to start boxing. He tried to think of some witty comeback, but his voice was dry, and his mind drained of wit.

  “Do your worst!”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Battle for ‘The Rock’, Centauri Rim

  The battle reached its climax as the last of the Separatists clashed in hand-to-hand combat with Alliance marines. What they lacked in equipment and experience, they more than made up for with passion and bravery. Soldiers fell, but others simply marched over the dead with their rifles in hand. They were not being forced to advance, and instead counterattacked with incredible zeal and righteousness. Gunfire continued to crash back and forth, though to the individuals fighting the battle it seemed more like a scene from hell itself. Marines fell in smaller numbers, and for a brief moment the Separatists were granted one chance to win a glorious victory. The standard flew tall and proud, drawing even the mortally wounded to their feet to join in the charge.

  None of this entered Nate’s mind as the bayonet came at him. It moved so fast it was a blur, and there was nothing Nate could do to stop it. His body tensed as he braced himself for the pain, but suddenly a shape knocked him aside. He fell to the right but was able to make out the shape of a heavily armoured figure as it took his place. The bayonet embedded in its arm but had no other obvious effect.

  “Get back,” said a robotic voice, “I said get back, now!”

  Nate turned his head and standing in front of him were four figures. He knew right away that they were Novas, but seeing them up close was like seeing metal gods. They were more machine than man, with artificial limbs, thick armour plating, and large helms sunk behind ribbed metal gorgets. No two were equipped the same, but the torsos and heads were all alike. One of them reached for him, grabbed his hand, and hurled him backwards. Nate hit the ground hard and rolled along the floor before landing beside his friends.

  “Are you okay?” Charlie asked.

  Nate nodded furiously as he looked back at the Novas. The Alliance line had been broken here, yet these four warriors stood alone against the enemy commander. They didn’t move, anchored their feet, and opened fire with their bewildering array of weapons. Gunfire and plasma blasts tore the Separatists apart until only a few remained. The standard-bearer and commander made it to the Novas just as the others fell around them. The commander took a burst of fire in the chest and fell down, while the standard bearer lowered the tip and charged at the Novas.

  “For the Union!” He screamed while leaping through the air.

  “Val, watch it!” One of the Novas shouted, its voice a loud, robotic roar, “In front!”

  The Nova sidestepped and narrowly avoided the point before slamming its mace-like left arm into the man’s back. He crashed to the ground, either unconscious or dead. The Nova bent down and yanked the blood-soaked banner, lifted it high above its head, and then pointed its shoulder-mounted cannon at the last few soldiers still standing. One tried to stab the right-hand Nova, only to be knocked aside with ease. The unit leader holding the standard pointed to various points ahead and then called out in a familiar female voice.

  “I want marines to move two hundred metres ahead. Open order and move fast. We need this placed cleared for the mop up crew.”

  Scores of regular Alliance marines raced off into the distance, and though there was the occasional crackle of fire, it was obvious the battle for the landing ground, and perhaps the entire Maw, was over. Nate rose to one knee and called out to the Nova in front of him.

  “Valentine?”

  The mighty warrior pivoted at the waist, and then its visor opened to reveal a scarred and sweat-soaked face that he knew only too well. She took one step towards him just as a bullet came close to striking her. The integral interceptor guns blasted it to pieces just a metre away. She then grimaced as her shoulder cannon spun around and roared with power. When she finally looked back at Nate, he could see she’d been utterly transformed.

  “Nate? What in the name of all that is holy are you doing here?”

  “Ensign Lewis,” said Charlie, moving to her comrade’s side. Valentine looked to the young pilot and then back to Nate.

  “Ensign? You went full military?”

  Nate nodded.

  “Pilot in the Knighthawks, full-time.”

  She continued to smile, even amidst the violence all around them.

  “And you? When we checked, it said you were MIA.”

  Her smile began to fade.

  “I kind of still am. I’ve got fighting to do, Nate. Watch your back!”

  Another squad of marines moved close by and stopped alongside her. They were led by a sergeant, yet they treated her as though she was much more senior than them.

  “Corporal. Where do you want us?”

  Valentine’s visor slid shut, and she pointed off into the distance with the bloodied battle standard.

  “Leave a squad to look after these pilots. The rest of you come with me. It’s time to end this fight.”

  “We’re with you.”

  Without a wave or even a nod, she strode off into the smoke, a giant of metal armour and bristling with guns. As she moved away, she tossed the banner to the ground so that it fell amongst the bodies of the fallen on both sides. She’d changed beyond recognition from the rookie marine Nate had once known, and it gave him an odd feeling of nostalgia, almost madness for seeing her like that.

  “Who is she?” Charlie asked.

  Harry sat down next to one of the fallen soldiers and shook his head.

  “That is Martina Valentine. We met her when she was a private. A regular marine and a good friend.”

  “She’s doesn’t look regular anymore.”

  “No,” said Nate, “She really doesn’t, does she?”

  A marine sergeant approached them.

  “Are you the Knighthawks?”

  Nate nodded. “Yes, Sergeant. That’s us.”

  “I’ve got orders to evacuate all of you from this place. Birds are coming in now.”

  On cue, a pair of Jackals arrived with the markings of Relentless along their flanks. It was a minor thing, but it stirred Nate’s heart. He dragged himself along the rubble and to the side of his fallen friend. Séraphine Anastasie, or Kaos her call sign, was one of the pilots Nate had never expected to be particularly close to. She was from a rural area and had struggled to get to where she was. While many of the pilots had come from the wealthier families, Nate included, Séraphine had been something else. She always seemed to bear some kind of chip on her shoulder about those with money. She had a reputation of a person that used anybody she could to get ahead, and there were rumours of romances with a dozen different people. Yet for all of that, Nate knew she was as dependable as they came. She was tough, forthright, and experienced, and now she was pale and weak.

  “We need to help her.” Billy reached towards her.

  “No,” said Nate, “The PDS armour is designed for this kind of trauma. Look.”

  He placed a hand near to the wound where a puffy foam-like substance had expanded. It completely sealed the shattered piece of metal in place, making it impossible to move, let alone remove.

  “Yeah. You’re right.”

  The doors opened on the nearest of the Jackals, and first out were two marines. They both advanced with carbines slung and carrying medical packs on their shoulders. Chasing behind them was a single Mule, the robotics load carrier now used by all platoons. They kept running until they reached the pilots.

  “It’s time to evac,” said the marine.

  Nate looked back to the wounded Séraphine.

  “Don’t worry about her. We’ll take good care of her.”

  One by one they withdrew to the Jackals. Séraphine was first inside atop the stretcher fitted to the Mule. The medics flocked around her as they performed critical triage before locking down the mule and stretcher ready for take off. Silvia waited at her side, with one hand resting on her friends’ arm. Nate was the last to step onto the ramp, and from the top he turned and looked back at the bloody wasteland. Fires still burned, and thick black smoke blocked out large sections of the place. The engines began to power up when he spotted something. Nate leapt from the ramp and rushed off.

  A marine waiting at the portside door shouted to him, “Hey, get back here!”

  Billy stepped out to the ramp but was stopped by Harry.

  “No, one is enough. What’s he doing?”

  Nate vanished into the black cloud, and in that brief moment his friends began to argue. Billy was adamant that he needed to leave so that he could help him, while the others struggled to get out, only to be held back by the marines on board.

  “Get them strapped in,” said the Sergeant, “That’s enough of this crap.”

  “There!” Billy yelled, “There he is.”

  They all watched as the young pilot emerged from the smoke and with a long pole resting on his shoulder. He broke into a run and rushed up the ramp. The doors slid shut behind him, and the Jackal began to rise.

  “What’s all that all about?” Harry asked, “You almost started a riot with that little act. What were you thinking?”

  One of the marines tried to move Nate to his seat, but not before he placed the pole on the floor. He then rolled it to one side to reveal the fabric wrapped around it. The material was soft and light, and covered in bloodstains. At least a dozen bullet holes marked its surface. But it was the design on and the letters underneath that stunned each of them.

  “That’s their battle standard, the one Valentine took from them. Right?”

  “Yeah, Billy. It was just lying there on the floor and had caught on fire.”

  He nodded to the bottom corner where it was charred and burnt.

  “You should toss that out right now,” said the marine.

  “Why?”

  “Trust me. That’s the kind of thing that becomes a relic. Better to be rid of it now than live with the consequences later. Believe me.”

  Silvia coughed and then pointed towards the standard.

  “Are you kidding me? We don’t destroy our history. This is important, and it needs to be saved.”

  “Okay,” The marine lifted his hands defensively, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You might want to strap in. There are still some ships in the fight. You don’t wanna crash into the walls.”

  Nate moved to his seat and pulled open the harness. After fully strapping in, he looked to the others inside.

  “We made it,” said Harry, “I don’t know how, but we survived the Battle of the Rock.”

  * * *

  Observation Deck, ‘The Rock’, Centauri Rim

  General Narek tensed his body, readying himself for what was coming. He was still dressed in the standard Union battle armour but had chosen to not wear his helmet. He carried no weapons, save for a civilian thermal shotgun. To an outsider he may have looked more like a seasoned mercenary operative than a general and leader of men. He looked down at the firearm and ran a gloved hand along the smooth polymer fittings. A great boom shook the ground, and handfuls of dust dropped from the ceiling above. He smiled as some of it fell on his head, and he wiped it away as if it were only rain.

  “Finally,” he exclaimed, “The first stage of the revolution has begun.”

  He walked from the centre of the room and towards the tall glass windows. The view was not so very different to the one a day before. Gone were the long lines of ships, and the sense of calm inside the impregnable fortress. Now the enemy ships had his home surrounded, and what few ships of his remained were fighting with their last dying breaths. The end was coming, and he remained utterly calm. One of his trusted lieutenants marched quickly towards him and wiped his brow before speaking. There were only three officers still on the observation deck, as well as six fully armoured soldiers.

  “General, they are coming this way. Your shuttle is fuelled and ready to leave. There is still time.”

  The General smiled back at him while shaking his head.

  “There will be no shuttles today, Lieutenant. No, today we fight for what is ours.”

  A booming sound shook the floor, drawing gasps from the few remaining officers.

  “Arm yourselves and be ready. This will soon be over.”

  He turned from the glass and moved towards the ring of desks that had been vacant for the last hour. Atop of one was his helmet, as well as a case filled with papers. He shook his head, and then lifted his shotgun ready to fire. It made a gentle sound as the power cell activated. The six armoured soldiers moved to his side, three on each side. They said nothing and waited with their weapons at the ready. The three officers carried pistols and took cover behind the decks.

  “Fight in the open or in cover, it will make little difference,” said the General, “We cannot win this fight, but we will win this war. I promise you.”

  The single tall doorway remained closed, but already they could see lights moving closer to it. It was metal framed, but with glass panels that were relatively transparent. It wasn’t enough to see through properly, but they could tell there were shapes outside.

  “General. Lay down your arms,” said a voice from outside. It was loud and artificial, “This doesn’t have to end in violence.”

  The General looked to his people, and then back to the doorway.

  “This is my home. You have killed thousands in your brutal assault.”

  He looked off to the right, where a discreetly positioned camera watched every move. He could only just make out the black lens, but nothing more.

  “This world is peaceful, self-reliant, and self-governed. You have no right to attack us. Your robot legions and alien lackeys have no place in the Terran Union. We offer peace and sanctuary to all Humans. Leave now, or suffer the consequences of your violence.”

  “Last chance, General. Surrender, or we will have to come in.”

  “Then do your worst. But be in no doubt, we will defend ourselves as we are entitled to do so.”

  Something fizzled and flashed along the frame of the door, and soon spread around the entire rectangular frame. One soldier from each side stepped in front of their leader, blocking his body from the doorway. The others lifted their rifles to their shoulders and took aim.

  “This is your last chance, Xenophiles,” said General Narek, “I implore you to stop the bloodshed.”

  “Protect the Allfather,” said one as the doorway flashed a painful white. The heavy metal structure collapsed to the ground, and dark shapes stepped inside. At first there was no gunfire, and the Alliance operatives seemed to take this as a signal to swarm inside.

  “Drop ‘em,” said the leader of the guards.

  The line of armoured soldiers fired short bursts of accurate fire. They could easily have been confused for Alliance Special Forces, based on their accuracy and skill. The opening fusillade of rifle fire slammed into shapes, and two of the marines hit the ground. More pushed inside and opened fire with automatic carbines. Gunfire crashed back and forth, with both sides losing warriors. More pushed inside, taking hits from the three officers sheltering behind the decks. A flash bomb sailed through the air and detonated between them, knocking two to the ground either dead or unconscious, and blinding the third. The marines on the ground were not dead, and soon rose from the ground to return fire.

  “What is this?” said one of the soldiers as another lifted itself up from the floor, even though it lacked one of its legs. A glowing light at the centre of its head instantly confirmed the thing was not living. It rushed towards them, and the man waited until the last moment before blasting its torso apart. The broken robot collapsed to the ground without a sound.

  “CD3 Combat Grunt,” said one of the soldiers, “The IAB use them as expendable soldiers in combat.”

  Another group tried to get inside, and this time they aim for the heads. Rifle and shotgun rounds hammered into the machines, tearing them apart with relative ease. A Grunt stepped in, but this time its movement was completely different. It rolled along the floor, and then slid while firing its high-power carbine. One soldier was cut down before the machine could be destroyed.

 

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