Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights (23 page)

The attack ended almost as quickly as it began. Within just a very few minutes, the gleasons were either dead or too wounded to attempt the wall. Blasters still sounded as wounded gleasons at the base of the wall moved, but the defenders had successfully defeated this attack. Galborae sheathed his sword and jumped back to the catwalk, then turned and offered a hand to Tennisol. The two ended up in a bearhug. The rest of the men, covered in gleason blood and entrails, joined them in celebration as medics spread out among the wounded. Limam joined him, rubbing against his leg to let him know she was back.

Havlock still waited tensely for the rest of the attack. He passed the word to his men to stay alert, then he went to Turmae and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done, General,” he said.

Turmae turned glaring eyes on him. “We’re not done yet. Don’t get cocky, Sky Lord. Men died out there.”

Havlock backed up and nodded. “I stand corrected. This was not the attack I expected.”

“They’re testing our defenses, looking for weakness. If they weren’t certain before, they are now—they know they’re up against your modern weapons, not just our swords and arrows. What’s with that sword?”

Havlock’s eyebrows lifted. “Galborae’s sword? It’s special and the only one like it in existence. It cuts through most anything.”

“Can you make more of them?”

“Not right away, and maybe never. It’s an incredibly dangerous weapon, and I’m almost sorry I had it made. It doesn’t care what it cuts. It’s a danger to enemies and friends alike. We noticed on the convoy that it seemed to attract gleasons. It seems to be attracting them here as well. Did you notice?”

“I did. You did not reinforce with shuttles or scooters. Why?”

“I want to leave a few surprises for the gleasons.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. All of my studies suggest they do not work together. They’re loners.”

Turmae looked him in the eyes. “I have to act on what I see, not what I expected to see. I see an organized enemy force out there. Someone is commanding them. I don’t know what that commander learned from this attack, but the next one will be different.”

“I confess I thought we would hold the outer wall. After this, I’m not so sure.”

Turmae let some frustration show. “Sky Lord, that was just a small probe and a few made it over the wall. We are up against an overwhelming force of hideous creatures this fortress was never designed to defend itself against. We might not win. We are truly in a fight for survival.” He took another look at the display, saw it was clear, and turned away from Havlock. “I have to speak with the queen. She’ll be worried.”

Havlock shook his head and called Lebac who was overseeing things from the transporter. “Do you believe what just happened?” he asked his second in command.

“No. I’m not sure what I just saw.”

“Turmae believes it was a feint to test our defenses. I think he’s right, but that begs another question.”

“Exactly. Just how organized are these gleasons?”

“Turmae has convinced me we’d better start treating them as an intelligent opponent rather than dumb beasts. This changes everything, Zac, for us and for General Stymes when he gets here.”

“I’m not sure I agree. I think you’re giving them more credit than they’re due, but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt for the moment. I wonder what they’ll try next?”

“Think basic warfare, not high tech fighting, Zac. They’ll send scouts, they’ll probe us, and they’ll be ready to shift instantly when they find a weak spot.”

“They have to know by now that we see them even when they’re invisible,” Lebac said as he rubbed a hand across his chin. “Invisibility is their greatest asset and it’s not working for them.”

Havlock snapped his fingers. “Night, Zac. They’ll attack at night.”

M’Kind broke into their conversation. “That’s not all, sir. If we’re really going to credit them with intelligence, they’ll weaken you with the next attack and come at you tomorrow or the next day with fresh troops.”

For the first time since entering the walls of Tricor, Havlock actually sensed his own mortality, as if he was back on the road with the caravan. There was a real possibility he could lose Tricor and his whole command to the gleasons. He stood up and walked to a window, staring out across Tricor to the lands surrounding it and the many, many gleasons roaming freely out there.

Who are you?
he wondered of the gleason commander.
How smart are you? How far are you willing to go?

Havlock had lost his entire command to Chessori invaders at the outset of the war on Aldebaran. He’d regrouped and fought back, had actually become a hero, but the loss was never far from his mind and he had never forgiven himself. As he stared out toward the gleasons, he vowed it would not happen here.

He lifted the communicator to his mouth. “What kind of lights do you have on the transporter?” he asked M’Kind.

“I can light up the whole perimeter. They’ll see me, but to the best of my knowledge they cannot hurt the ship.”

“How do we stop a second assault?”

“My weapons are anti-ship lasers, far too powerful to use near Tricor. However, I can bring them to their lowest settings and scour an area far beyond Tricor of reinforcements. There are lots of them on our sensors. I can draw a line they won’t be able to cross.”

“Get started as soon as the main attack begins. Let’s find out how badly they want this place.”

“Uh, sir,” M’Kind said, “I don’t think they care about Tricor. It’s you and your men they want. I get the feeling they don’t want us here. Let’s face it—they had a pretty good deal going for themselves before we came.”

Havlock shook his head. “We’re going to show them we mean to stay. I’m just sorry Tricor got caught up in it. How are things on the ship?”

“My fine ship has turned into an ark. I think she sent more animals than people. I’ll never get rid of the smell.”

* * * * *

The main attack started with full darkness. Only one moon was up and it was a small crescent, so the night was fully dark. Blobs massed across the clear zone, then more moved out of the buildings from all directions simultaneously, their horrible screams resonating across the city. Turmae passed the word, but it wasn’t really needed. Soldiers with visors and pilots on the shuttles knew as soon as he knew, and none of them hesitated. Stunners fired non-stop, and everyone knew that lives depended on accuracy. The wall lit up with the red lances of blasters reaching out to gleasons.

Havlock warned them that lights were coming on. M’Kind gave them a moment to reconfigure visors, then the whole city lit up with intense light. The gleasons actually stopped moving and became sitting ducks. Clearly, the light had blinded their sensitive night vision.

Defenders took advantage of the lull, the first time any of them had seen an opportunity to shoot a stationary gleason. Inside the command center, a series of tremendous blasts shook the room. Everyone whirled around to see the arms master, Sergeant Guarl, firing a seriously heavy weapon at the heaviest concentrations of targets outside the wall. The weapon was so heavy that it was normally mounted on a vehicle. It came with its own separate power supply and computer aiming system, but Guarl had left that behind and was using it the old fashioned way—aiming with a scope and a laser.

On the wall, long blasters took out hundreds of gleasons. Havlock issued a curt command to his shuttles to blast the far side of the cleared area and take out the closest structures in the process. As soon as buildings began blowing up around them, more gleasons headed for the wall, some of them already wounded. Shuttles’ stunners hit this wave hard, then the gleasons had to get through the massed firing from the curtain wall. Snipers on the towers had a field day, but then the blinded gleasons started moving again, all of them. As soon as they did, the defenders returned to needing multiple shots to take down the erratically moving creatures.

The wall served its purpose. Havlock watched in amazement as possibly half the attackers died before crossing the wall. However, half was too many to fight hand-to-hand.

Turmae had a tough decision to make. Clearly, the curtain wall would not contain the attack, but the wall still provided an obstacle which would slow and reduce the number of gleasons. On the other hand, he had to give the defenders time to withdraw.

He turned to Havlock, yelling above the insistent pounding from Guarl’s weapon. “Bring your shuttles in closer. I’ll accept some damage to the wall. Tell them to remember there will be other battles. Preserve what they can.”

Havlock brought his shuttles and scooters in closer. Still, gleasons continued swarming toward, then up the wall.

On Galborae’s section of wall, the battle was a repeat of the earlier foray. Gleasons streamed across the 100 meter cleared area outside the wall. He raced up the steps of the watch tower for a better look, the stones of the tower ringing from repeated blasts from snipers’ weapons. When he reached the top and looked out, the cleared area was a sea of visible gleasons, and he knew there would be some invisible gleasons intermingled with them.

Everyone was doing their job, so he raced back down to the wall and worked his way around men on the catwalk until reaching King Tennisol’s side in the center, then added his blaster fire to theirs. Before long, gleasons were at the wall. Soldiers again leaned out through the crenels to fire straight down.

Turmae called Galborae on his communicator. “I’m sounding the retreat shortly. I want you to show your blade. Last time it attracted them. If it does so again, it will take the pressure off some of our men as they retreat. Reinforcements are already on the way to you.”

Galborae knew what Turmae’s words meant—he needed Galborae up on the wall again. With a sick feeling, knowing in his gut that he had already tested fate too far, he hoisted himself to the top of the merlin and held his gleaming sword high. The moment his sword cleared its scabbard, gleasons near and far swerved toward it. Tennisol joined him, then his knights joined the two of them. Soon, more defenders lifted themselves to the tops of the merlins, doubling the amount of firepower directed toward the gleasons.

Turmae sounded the retreat. The battlements began emptying to both sides of Galborae’s section of wall. Closer to him, reinforcements joined his own men until they were two deep at the wall.

A short time later Turmae ordered Galborae to retreat, identifying specific units to pull back one at a time. Galborae’s sword kept up its non-stop slashing as the ranks of men behind and beside him thinned, half of them retreating to each watch tower, then down into the tunnels below.

Then it was time to completely abandon the wall. Galborae ordered Tennisol to retreat, and the king jumped down to the catwalk. He and a dozen men held the rear on one side as Galborae jumped to the catwalk and fought a rear action on the other. With no one to stop them, individual gleasons leapt over the wall and onto the catwalk, but most ignored Tennisol. They had eyes for Galborae and his shimmering blade.

Marines pounded up the catwalk to reinforce Galborae, fighting shoulder to shoulder, their blasters firing without pause as Galborae worked his way backward toward the tower. Gleasons fell and began piling up as the men fell back. Scooters reinforced, but there were just too many gleasons.

Havlock reached out and touched a shuttle symbol on the display. “Hawke, we’ve lost the outer wall. Galborae is about to get overrun. Start taking out the wall.”

“Aye, sir.”

Hawke’s shuttle hove to just inside the wall. Both guns from one side fired once, and the horde of gleasons on the center of the catwalk disappeared. So, too, did the catwalk and the wall.

Galborae’s men continued retreating toward the tower as gleasons poured through the breach, but gleasons also continued swarming up the wall. Scooters moved closer to the retreating men, hovering just above their heads and pouring a solid wall of energy into the gleasons. Hawke continued blasting the wall, chipping it away as the men fought their way closer to the tower.

Galborae finally reached the tower with gleasons climbing over each other in their frenzy to reach him. He shortened the blade in the confined area but never stopped cleaving. He was the last man to start down the stairway, his blade flashing sparks as it carved through stone at the end of each swing. Then the tower shook hard several times. Hawke called him to say he had collapsed part of the tower onto the catwalk, sealing the doorway and possibly the stairwell.

Galborae could not seal the tunnel with gleasons behind him. He continued slashing, but now he forced his way back through dead gleasons toward the top of the stairs. By the time he reached the top, there were no more living gleasons. The landing had been sealed with rubble. He turned and headed back into the tunnel, stopping only long enough to reach up and pull a long lever. A heavy, carved stone fell into place above him, sealing the tunnel on this end.

Catwalks emptied far quicker than Havlock thought possible, though in fairness, the men were seriously motivated. Still under the onslaught of the shuttles and scooters, gleasons now truly swarmed over the wall through the reduced firing, and though many of them bore serious wounds, some of them remained fully intact. Once clear of the wall, they began working their way through the city toward the inner wall.

Tricor had lost its first level of defense, and so quickly that Havlock felt numb with shock. Turmae stayed calm, acting like he’d been doing this all his life. Reports came in from his men on the status of the retreat and he shouted to Havlock, “Some of my retreating forces will be in position on the inner wall in five minutes. All of them will be in position in 15 minutes.”

Havlock shouted back at him over the continuous pounding coming from Guarl’s gun, “This will be over by then.”

Turmae shrugged. “It will be what it will be. They’re moving as fast as they can.”

Havlock closed his eyes, shutting out the presentation and mentally imagining things from a big picture point of view. The core of his command was still strong. The inner wall would not fall easily or quickly. If it did, civilians inside would suffer horribly. He absolutely had to hold the inner wall. Farther out, gleasons swarmed, though the curtain wall had done its job and seriously depleted their numbers. Farther out yet, a second wave of gleasons might be gathering.

He started there, calling M’Kind. “Have you started in on the second wave?”

“Momentarily. I just finished tuning down the lasers. I have to lift the ship to fire.”

“We really need your lights.”

“I understand. I’ll make certain the lights stay on.”

“Very well.”

He moved his mental picture of the battle in closer, then had a thought and opened his eyes to check the display. Yes, gleasons were still coming from the far side of the clear area, though not in large numbers. Guarl’s heavy weapon continued its remorseless pounding.

He called Hawke again. “Can you crush gleasons with the shuttle?”

“I can try. It might be hard on the shuttle, sir.”

“Give it a try. If it works, I’ll consider getting others to do it.”

Havlock closed his eyes again and considered the gleasons’ next impediment—the inner wall. How could he better defend it? He wished he had given the idea more consideration. He had really believed he had the firepower to defend the outer wall.

He left the hologram and went to a window to look out on the real battle. Turmae joined him there, shaking his head to clear it as Guarl's weapon continued pounding away.

“I like it out here better. This is where I belong,” Turmae said. “I feel like a different person inside there with the mental painting.”

“Your orders are saving lives, General.” He pointed to a shuttle bouncing along outside the cleared area. “We’re trying to crush them,” he said.

Turmae’s eyes widened as the concept hit home. He grabbed Havlock by the arm, yelling, “Can you crush them at the bottom of the inner wall before they’ve had a chance to climb?”

Havlock’s lips thinned, and he called Hawke. “How’s it going?”

“Weird, sir, but effective. I’ve called for backup.”

“Okay. When they’ve thinned out there, I want you to stand by to do the same at the base of the inner wall.”

“Sir, it’s all blown up in there. It won’t be as level as out here. We might damage the shuttles.”

“Do the best you can. I just need to buy a little time while we reinforce the inner wall. If it gets really bad, I might ask some of you to press a little harder. We don’t need every single shuttle to be space ready, but some of them need to be.”

“Understood, sir. I’ll pass on what I’ve learned to the other pilots, then I’ll try it myself.”

“Stay in touch. And Hawke, we’re going all out on this. The gleasons might win.”

He heard the hesitation in Hawke’s voice before he heard, “Aye, sir.”

Gleasons began pouring out of the streets and buildings at the base of the inner wall, forcing the defenders to shift their firing from the outer wall to the base of their own wall. Havlock notified the men to be certain to use stunners as well. He did not know how long the stun effects from the shuttles would last, and if the gleasons restored their invisibility, there would be no hope of stopping them.

Red lances suddenly appeared in the night sky, flickering on for a millisecond, then off, repeatedly reaching out silently into the night. Explosions lit the darkness in the far distance wherever those lasers struck. He nodded to himself—M’Kind’s lasers had begun thinning the ranks of the second wave of gleasons.

Blaster fire and arrows rained down on the gleasons who were not only climbing a higher wall but were climbing a smoother wall. This wall had been constructed by expert craftsmen. Stones fit tightly together, and the gleasons’ claws had trouble finding purchase. Any gleason who was missing arms or legs eventually fell, knocking gleasons below them from the wall.

Some of the gleasons had armed themselves with swords and knives taken from dead defenders, and the occasional blaster sounded from within their ranks. Concentrated blaster fire from his marines quickly silenced them.

A single shuttle came in close to the inner wall with its weapons firing non-stop. The shuttle came to a stop, then dropped like a rock onto the rubble at the base of the wall. It sprung back up a moment later and repositioned, then dropped again.

Turmae reported to Havlock that some gleasons had been killed and many maimed, and Havlock passed the word to Hawke and the rest of his shuttles. Soon, shuttles ringed the inner wall, stomping repeatedly. Gleason ranks were being devastated, but the inner wall was much, much shorter around than the curtain wall which meant smaller numbers of gleasons still resulted in swarms. Defenders fired non-stop, and when reinforcements from the curtain wall began filling in, defenders literally stood shoulder to shoulder. A wall of energy poured down on the gleasons. The sound of so many blasters firing at once, added to the constant pounding of Guarl’s big gun, made it hard to think in the command center.

Suddenly, the gleasons pulled back, racing back into the streets and buildings between the two walls. Havlock ordered shuttles to stun the area through the roofs of the buildings in hopes of restoring any weakened stun effects.

The retreat was brief. Gleasons returned, but now they concentrated on just two sections of the inner wall, all of them swarming at once. Havlock leaned out his window and felt like he was looking at a disturbed nest of spiders racing up the wall.

A shuttle lifted to the top of the wall and jockeyed right up to the wall, errant blaster shots ricocheting off its top and sides. It was so close to the wall that defenders could have stepped onto its roof. Suddenly the shuttle sank to the ground, scraping gleasons from the wall and crushing them. It rose again and repeated the process.

Havlock called him. “Is that you, Hawke?”

“Busy, sir,” came back a breathless reply.

Havlock called in more shuttles to copy the process. Gleasons died, but more still swarmed up the wall without pause, some of them reaching the top and leaping into defenders.

Havlock called across the room to Turmae. “Where’s the queen?”

“She’s in the keep.”

“You’d better send fighters.”

Turmae shook his head and yelled, “I need them on the wall. Our women will have to protect themselves. I left weapons.”

Havlock’s jaw fell. “You said the gleasons would never take the inner wall. Why would you leave weapons?”

“In case I was wrong. Surrender is not an option.”

Havlock shook his head and called Galborae. “Where are you?”

“In a tunnel. I believe I’ve almost reached the inner wall.”

“Gleasons have breached the inner wall. Atiana is in the keep.”

He could hear the shock in Galborae’s voice. “You’ve lost the wall?”

“No, but there’s some hand-to-hand fighting.”

“You cannot lose that wall, Gar. She’s defenseless in there. I thought she was on the transporter.”

“I think she’s better at giving orders than following them.”

“I’m on my way.”

Galborae sealed the tunnel as he exited, then he found Tennisol. “Gather your men and follow me,” he ordered, ignoring the fact that Tennisol was his king.

Tennisol did not hesitate. A third of his men had fallen on the outer wall. He formed up the remaining 200 and followed Galborae into the inner ward. There they ran into a barrier of swords, pikes, axes, and spears wielded by women prepared to fight for their very lives.

Tennisol grabbed Galborae by the shoulder and turned him. “Your sword. They’ll come to your sword,” he shouted over the sounds of fighting from the walls above them.

Galborae nodded grimly. “Move the women away from the walls. Give the gleasons a clear route to the keep.” He then strode toward the main door of the castle and turned to face the women in the inner ward with his back to the door. He drew his sword from its scabbard and activated it, then held it high. Tennisol and twenty of his knights formed up behind Galborae.

Atiana appeared in front of him with her blaster drawn. Galborae shook his head, then roared at her, “Get inside!” He sent a mental message to Limam: “
stay with the Queen, protect her.”

She took one look at the gore covering Galborae, Tennisol, and their men and knew this was not the time to argue. Besides, she had not been fully trained with the new weapon and knew she could not fire it toward the packed people in the courtyard. This would be a battle of swords and axes.

“It’s locked from the inside. I’ll join my people in the courtyard.” She did not wait for a reply, she just ran to the nearest edge of her people who had moved as far from the knights as they could.

She was none too soon. Galborae’s sword did, indeed, act like a beacon to the gleasons. Only five gleasons made it past the wall and into the courtyard, fortunately all of them still visible from the effects of stunning.

The sword appeared to take on a life of its own, his wrist and arm moving far faster than it could have with his old, heavy sword. Gleason bodies flew apart, torn torsos and heads impacting hard against the knights and covering them with gore. Galborae suddenly went down hard, his head hitting the stones of the landing and the light in his sword extinguishing. Tennisol and his men finished off the two remaining wounded gleasons as Atiana rushed up to them. She pulled pieces of dead bodies from Galborae while Tennisol and his men kept watch over her, then she sat down beside him and pulled his bloody head to her lap.

The fighting ended as quickly as it had begun. One minute everyone was fighting for their lives, then suddenly the wall was clear.

Defenders looked at each other in awe, amazed they had lived through the onslaught. Utter silence fell over the castle, broken only by occasional blaster shots into dying gleasons that moved at the bottom of the wall.

A single cheer broke the silence, then suddenly everyone was cheering and dancing. Knights and civilians embraced aliens who had become brothers in the heat of battle. Bells rang in towers, and the doors of the keep swung open. People peered out cautiously, then they worked their way around Tennisol and his knights to join the others in the courtyard.

Atiana called urgently into her comm unit for a medic, but to her amazement, Galborae stirred, then opened his eyes, though he appeared to have trouble focusing. Tennisol handed her a shawl borrowed from a passing woman, and Atiana wiped the gore from Galborae’s face.

“Just rest, Knight,” she said to him. She hugged him as she looked up at Tennisol. “Thank you,” she said.

He knelt down beside her and took the rag to wipe gore from his own face. “Is it over?”

Atiana called Havlock and received the all clear. She said to Tennisol, “Tell your men they have fought a great battle and won. You saved Tricor.”

* * * * *

In the operations center, Havlock and Turmae looked at each other in silence, then Turmae reached out a hand.

Havlock grasped the hand in both of his own. “Congratulations, General,” he said solemnly.

Turmae’s lips thinned. “We’re not done yet, but I have to get out to my men. Will you take over?”

“Of course. Go!”

Turmae left and Havlock spoke to his men. “Congratulations, each of you. We’ll celebrate later. There’s still work to do.” To Lieutenant Guarl, he said, “Keep an eye out. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a gleason hanging onto a wall somewhere.”

“Aye, sir.”

“You might want to downsize your weapon while you’re at it,” he said with a grin.

Guarl returned the grin and set the modern, high tech, gun on the ancient stones of the floor.

Havlock called Lebac and M’Kind. “From here it looks like it’s over. What do you see?”

Lebac’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. They fought to the very last man. We saw no retreat at all.”

“Nor did we. It tells us something about them, but I’m not sure what. If there was someone in charge, he’s ruthless.”