Authors: Tony Gonzales
“Yes,” he said, thinking of Mordu.
“Yes I do.”
* * *
VINCE COULDN’T BREATHE,
see, or hear anything.
A few moments ago there had been a bright flash immediately followed by the sensation of air being forced out of his lungs, his eardrums collapsing, and his being thrown a considerable distance into a wall.
>BIOSYS WARNING<
>BODY TEMP 42 C, BP 82/50<
>CRITICAL RECOVERY MODE<
>SYSDIAG: VASCULAR NANITE SUPPLY DEPLETED.<
>BIORHYTHM UNSUSTAINABLE.<
He crawled, somehow, for several minutes, looking for a weapon.
A dead Paladin emerged in the fog ahead, a pulse rifle still strapped across his chest.
Vince went through the dead man’s belongings, retrieving a TACNET interface from the helmet and additional charge packs for the weapon.
Vince was just 800 meters from the armor hangar when the explosion struck.
Winding his way through the civilian complex, he had been eyeing a pair of tanks guarding the entrance when they left suddenly, rolling down the street.
The last thing he remembered was seizing the opportunity to move toward the hangar entrance.
Before the blast, cries for help were coming in from positions near the western gates; apparently more invaders were dropping in, probably to seize control of the elevator’s ground terminus.
Several squads had mentioned making contact with Ishukone Watch forces, which was sowing more confusion because it was believed Mordu’s Legion had started the attack and that Federation troops were somewhere in the vicinity as well.
It was as if all of New Eden had declared war on the Amarr Empire at once.
Both of his ears started ringing; miraculously, they were beginning to recover.
It was then he noticed that none of the electronic equipment was functioning.
The rifle was useless; he tossed it onto the ground.
That made him think the blast had been another orbital strike, but with a plasma charge, not a beam.
The magnetic field that a charge generated before detonating would incinerate the electronics near the blast area.
There was so much dust in the air from repeated bombardments that it was becoming almost impossible to breathe.
Staggering forward, Vince realized that his eyes weren’t damaged and that actual visibility was limited to less than three meters.
He was in crippling pain but driven by the will to live.
Regaining his sense of direction, Vince pressed on toward the armor hangar.
The wind was beginning to pick up, increasing visibility enough so that he was able to see the lights at the hangar entrance.
Scanning the area, he decided there was no one around.
He staggered forward, unsure of what he would find inside that could help him.
Vince was so focused on the sound of his own panting, and then the wind whistling, that he didn’t hear the shouting coming from the hangar entrance until it was too late.
A beam lashed out and struck him in the chest armor; the thermal guard and reflective layer within absorbed some of the blast.
But what did make it through was strong enough to burn the ceramic plating and half a centimeter of flesh in his sternum.
Vince hit the ground and rolled, but it was pointless.
There was no cover.
More beams lashed out.
He tried to remain a moving target.
Then the firing stopped.
Vince was now gasping loudly and feeling faint.
Someone was standing over him, wearing the helmet of a Paladin.
The figure removed its mask slowly, and Vince saw burnt, disfigured skin beneath.
It was Templar Nine.
“We don’t belong here,” the Templar said, using the ancient language.
His disfigured hand reached for a nanite canister.
Vince’s vision was starting to fade.
“They mean to kill us,” Templar Nine continued, kneeling.
“The rest are dead.”
The nanite canister plunged into Vince’s thigh; he felt the lifesaving biotechnology rushing through his system, revitalizing his senses.
Templar Nine offered his hand; Vince took it and was hoisted to his feet.
“What is this language we speak?”
Nine asked, leading Vince toward the hangar.
“I believed we were soldiers of God.”
“So did I,” Vince said, as they reached the entrance.
Dead Paladins were everywhere.
He wondered if they had all died at Nine’s hands.
“I don’t know the answer.”
“I sacrificed everything,
everything,
to be a part of this,” Nine said.
“It was all a lie.
We have been betrayed, and … whatever this is inside of us … they have been betrayed as well.”
Vince felt a wave of emotion return as he recalled what the Architect had showed him.
He felt a strange kinship with this Templar.
“What will you do?”
Nine asked.
“Run,” Vince answered, spotting a Guardian-class MTAC that was still docked to its service platform.
“Where will you run to?”
Nine asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“As far away from them as I can.”
“Would you return to our Empress?”
“No,” Vince said.
“She doesn’t deserve to live for what she did to us.”
Nine snapped a gun upright and pointed it at Vince’s forehead.
“We swore an oath,” he said.
“Your words are treason.”
“Please don’t,” Vince said, raising his hands.
“I have a chance.”
“To do what?”
Nine demanded.
“Run away?
Don’t you remember what Six said to us?”
Vince was overwhelmed with guilt as he recalled the ancient words that Templar Six spoke during their drop into Pike’s Landing.
“He said this wasn’t their war,” Vince answered.
“That we’d all been deceived … and that once we learned the truth, we would regret our actions.”
“This isn’t what Empress Jamyl wanted,” Nine said.
“This isn’t her war, either.”
“Then whose is it?”
Vince asked, remembering the creatures with the strange eyes from his visions.
“Who did this to us?”
“Use your chance to find out,” Nine said.
“It may be too late for their world.
But it doesn’t have to be for ours.”
Vince thought of the city that crumbled into the sea.
“They know we’re still alive,” Nine said, tapping his helmet.
“They’re telling me that if I kill you, they’ll spare my life.”
Vince took a step back as Templar Nine straightened his aim.
“For the Empress,” Nine said, placing the gun to his own temple and squeezing the trigger.
Vince was horrified; the thing inside of him anguished as the body collapsed.
But there was no time to mourn him.
Nine had three more nanite canisters; Vince grabbed them and then raced up the ladder to reach the Guardian’s cockpit.
The spaceport was just on the other side of the apartment complex, less than two kilometers away.
* * *
“EAGLE ONE” LEANED OUTSIDE
from his perch in the Blackjack-class gunship, braving the wind and dust hitting his face shield to get a glimpse of the murky lights from the colony perimeter ahead.
The Blackjack was flying less than twenty meters above the ground; two Leander-class combat MTACs were hanging from either side of the craft’s fuselage by their backs, scanning the terrain below for targets.
Looking out from the open hatch, another Blackjack in the same configuration was just a few wingspans away, and dozens more were forming a huge flying wedge.
Armored vehicles were on the ground speeding beneath the formation, and fighters combed the sky high above.
The Essence 388th Mechanized Division was looking to kill some Paladins.
They were close enough to see muffled flashes on the horizon, mostly toward the southern end of the colony.
Rumors were swirling that Ishukone Watch troops were dropping in from the south.
“Eagle One, this is Hightower Five,” the radio squawked.
“We lost direct visual contact after the last orbital strike.
But two foot mobiles near the blast site entered an armor hangar at grid marker one-one-five; and one MTAC just blasted its way out, moving on a southwestern heading.
If your guy is still alive, the only place he can be is inside that walker, because everything else in the area is wasted.”
“Can you get an ID of the pilot?”
“Negative; there’s too much debris in the air,” Hightower Five said.
“But your HVI was looking for a ride.
This might be him.
The spaceport is just two klicks from there.”
“Copy Hightower; can you mark that target as neutral until we can get a poz ID?”
“Wilco; target is marked.”
“Commander, did you get all that?”
Eagle One asked.
“Affirmative; good work,” Admiral Freeman said.
“Fleet broadcast coming.… All units, this is Command.
We are now jointly participating in the op to extract the HVI with the assistance of Ishukone Watch and Mordu’s Legion.
Their assets have been marked as friendly in your TACNETs.”
Well, there’s a surprise,
Eagle One thought.
“Ishukone will suppress Imperial targets inside the perimeter,” Admiral Freeman continued.
“Our task is to assist a squad of downed Mordu’s Legion mercenaries and funnel the HVI toward them.
We believe this group knows the HVI personally and that he’ll cooperate if they can make contact.”
“… Better and better,” Eagle One mumbled to himself.
“Paladins are enemy targets,” Admiral Freeman said.
“Shoot to kill.
If Mordu’s troops are neutralized before you can reach them, we will try to take the HVI alive ourselves.
His probable location is also marked in your TACNET; we believe he is using enemy MTAC armor to move around.
Watch your targets.
When the HVI is secure, retreat to our extraction points in the badlands and west of the elevator terminus, whichever is closest.
Ishukone and Legion dropships are all cooperating; get into the nearest one you can and get the hell out of there.”
Eagle One looked over his shoulder at the tarps covering the corpses of the soldiers who died earlier.
“I don’t know who this HVI is,” he said to himself.
“But he better be worth it.”
* * *
VINCE WAS SURPRISED
at how powerful the Guardian’s beam cannons were.
Awash in the blue glare of the MTACs instruments, he steered the machine through the smoldering hole at the rear of the hangar.
Confusion reigned on the radio: It seemed Ishukone Watch troops really had landed inside the perimeter walls and were hammering fortified Paladin positions to the south.
That was a mixed blessing.
On one hand, Paladin ground forces were so busy fending off the invaders that his chances of reaching the spaceport were fairly good.
On the other, they were also in such disarray that there might not be any dropships left by the time he got there.
Vince eased the throttle forward, heading for the apartment complex.
The buildings would provide cover from the open spaces to the south, where the heaviest fighting was.
Once through, it would be just a short distance to reach the spaceport entrance.
As he marched into the open, an APC whirled from around the hangar corner; its driver was demanding an explanation as to why the MTAC wasn’t in the fight.
Vince answered with a burst from the beam cannon, which seared through the armor and detonated the vehicle’s reactor inside.
As fragments of the exploding troop carrier peppered the Guardian’s cockpit, proximity warnings alerted him that other armored units—currently marked as “friendly” on the machine’s tactical computer—were closing in on his position.
Two small jets—possibly drones—buzzed low overhead; the Guardian’s automated shoulder turrets followed their trajectory across the sky.
But Vince eased off the trigger.
If they were Imperial birds, he would have been dead.
They had to be Federation, who again for some reason were showing surprising restraint from attacking him.
He pushed the Guardian into a full march, shaking the ground with each heavy step.
Dealing with multiple tanks in the open was suicide.
But if they followed him into the urban terrain ahead, he would have the advantage.
* * *
GABLE’S HEAD KEPT STRIKING THE BACK
of Jonas’s armored vest as he ran toward cover.