Chapter Ten

The great transports had detached from the huge, multiple triangle-shaped starships and were now taking up orbit over Chinngard. The starships drew back, away from the coming conflict. Their long irregular hulls, painted in the bright blue of Janos, sparkled in the light from Chinngard’s single sun.

The transports were ugly and squat, like great eggs covered in rotted lumps and decorated with the garish religious symbols of Janos. The eighteen landing vessels took positions and halted over the glowing planet.

Emperor-Priest Akallon IV was in the last vessel, which held back as a command ship and looked at the world below. He licked his lips in anticipation and rubbed his hands as he prepared to give the order to begin a bombardment, which would target Chinngard’s military complexes. He reached for the communicator, allowing an extra minute or two for the last of the transports to take position and the starships to get clear.

War Marshall Areed approached and stood by his employer’s side.

“Let us hope that Fly took care of the Baron and the command staff, or this will be a longer fight than we anticipated.”

With a shrug the Emperor-Priest dismissed the comment.

“It doesn’t matter, she was just a small idea I had. The poison I gave her is only found on Fedarn, which should have turned suspicion away from us if anyone thinks their deaths were linked with the invasion.”

Areed frowned. “But I thought you told her the poison was untraceable?”

Akallon looked at his War Marshall with a frown of his own.

“Well, of course I told her that. It would have made her more willing to do the deed if she had thought for a second she could have got away with it. You’re from the Setnin Sector, surely you understand duplicity? This way I keep the Prime Lord busy trying to figure out if anyone in his court killed his son-in-law.”

The transports were now in position. They were opening up weapons ports and on every ship troops were moving along halls, getting ready for a landing and ground conflict. Great machines of war were secured in each vessels hold. They were small and manoeuvrable or large and heavy, depending on their function. They were already warmed up and prepared.

It had only taken a matter of hours to load, take off from Janos, link with the starships, make the transition to Chinngard space and take up position. The Emperor-Priest was pleased with the functionality of his men.

“All ships,” Akallon said into the communicator. “May the bloodline of your families be strong this day. Commence attack.”

From sixteen transports sped sixteen concussion missiles. Each one was a meter long and thin, tapering to a blunt point which struck the atmosphere at a slight angle, which caused the nose to glow. The missile from the Emperor-Priest’s own vessel was leading the first strike, the nose painted with religious symbols, screaming through the upper atmosphere, leaving behind it a wake of particles from the superheated nose. Then the missile hit the clouds, the water vapour hissing against the missile as it cooled in the air. It continued down until it broke through the clouds which were threatening to burst with rain, and below the mountains came into sight. As the missiles appeared, thin beams of energy shot up from around the palace than was suddenly highlighted by floodlights and alarm strobes. The missile locked on and continued diving. Other missiles which had followed the lead were struck by the anti-bombardment defences, exploding with immense power and sending shockwaves out so strong the following missiles had to negotiate them so that they would not be thrown off course. The lead missile saw it’s target, an orbital cannon on one tower of the palace, and accelerated. The cannon fired one more desperate burst before the missile struck.

In an explosion like a blossoming black and red rose the cannon was destroyed, throwing huge clumps of debris onto running troops below. The power of the explosion caused windows along the whole west wing of the palace to shatter, on some floors debris sliced through walls and killed. The triplets hit the floor as all around them turned to rubble and glass, the great thump of the impact ringing in their ears. Other missiles struck around the palace taking out similar targets. Seven missiles in all got through the defences.

Simion pulled himself to his feet, his eyes blurred from tears that had not been caused by the explosion. Yedda and Corii were the same, staggering as if drunk, their eyes wide and unfocused. Corii was whining softly, and he collapsed to his knees at the top of the stairs, grabbing a tapestry and sliding down it until he remained hunched over and immobile as if praying. Great sobs pulled at his chest, his eyes were shut tight and his hands clutched the fragile material.

Yedda sat down at the top of the stairs, his crying in unison with his brothers. Simion dropped beside him, looking at the body of an assistant who had been skewered by a long thin piece of debris that had come flying through the window. Didn’t she clean the great hall?

Yedda grabbed Corii’s shoulder and pulled. “Come on,” he gasped, trying to keep his weeping under control. Another explosion sang throughout the halls but on the far side of the palace. He grabbed Simion also. “We have to get out.”

“What did they do to him!” Corii screamed, nearly tearing the tapestry from the wall. “And mother...”

Simion was the first to stand and he pulled his pistol from its holster and pulled Yedda to his feet. “We have to go.”

Yedda climbed unwillingly to his feet and looked around dazed as if everything that was happening around him was a daydream. He saw his brothers, one standing and dragging him up and the other on his knees clinging to a tapestry. He wiped his hands on his uniform and took a deep breath. He choked on fumes and dust. “Corri, let’s go,” he said, and grabbed him by the arm.

Corii looked up, suddenley alarmed. “Our sister,” he said.

All three stood still for the briefest of moments as they finally understood what was happening. Another explosion lit up the sky outside and lumps of burning scrap metal crashed through a window down the far end of the hall, setting fire to tables and hangings. The crash brought them all to the present.

“Our sister,” Simion shouted, priming his pistol and leaping down the stairs to be followed by the other two, drawing their own weapons and running with all the speed they could drag from their grief-weary bodies.

A body was catapulted through another window as another explosive struck the ground just outside. The triplets lifted their arms to create a partial shield against the dust and heat, jumping the unfortunate soldier as if he was another piece of debris scattered on the floor. More explosions as smaller devices detonated around the palace grounds. Shouts of confusion and fear and pain. The deafening whine of anti-bombardment beams and orbital cannons. The cough and splutter of engines as fighter transports were brought to life by their pilots. One such transport erupted by the gates, turning into a huge fireball that decimated the troops that had sought it out as cover. The gate collapsed and the beams that kept out unwanted visitors spluttered and died.

Another device struck the roof of the exterior corridor the triplets were running along, directly ahead. The entire ceiling collapsed, and they were forced to dive into an open doorway to avoid being crushed.

They found themselves in the antechamber of the audience hall, dazed and disorientated by the carnage around them. Simion pointed to the far end and shouted, “We can get to the medibay that way!” over the din of battle. Far away, a great roaring could be heard approaching, deep and menacing.

They ran across the hall, leaping more debris and glancing to the ceiling with every shockwave to be careful of falling masonry. As they closed on the door it was shoved open violently.

Arkin levelled his blaster pistol at the brothers as he entered the cavernous hall. The triplets were shocked, but relaxed as he tipped his pistol up and stood from his crouch. “I have your sister,” he said matter-of-factly. “We’ll get to the upper chambers and use a hopper to escape.”

“Escape where?” Simion demanded and gestured with his pistol back the way he’d come. “The invaders are coming! Where can we run?”

“Why has the defence been so timid?” Corii shouted. “What is happening?”

Arkin had already started up a flight of stairs that would take him to the upper levels and shouted over his shoulder. “Doctor, bring the child!” Doctor Turor came out of the darkness with a small bundle. The triplets gathered round to check her condition with worry. Simion and Corii, who had not seen their sister in her present state, gasped at her size. Her eyes were level and she showed no sign of fear, just amazement.

“Later!” Arkin called from the turn on the stairs. “We have to go! Now! All the commanders are dead and there is no one actively running the defence. Everyone is doing what they can, now, come on!” He grabbed the doctor and yanked, the brothers followed.

Yedda looked back over his shoulder as he heard a great explosion that had obviously struck the audience chamber and collapsed part of the ceiling. Clouds of dust burst from the doorway they had just vacated. “But where are we going?”

“I am your father’s bodyguard. I always have a contingency plan.”

“Bodyguard!” Simion sneered. “So where were you when he died?”

Arkin turned, his eyes cold and his fist clenched so hard Simion thought his knuckles were going to burst through his grey-scaled skin. He was silent, just regarding the Baron’s son steadily. Then he turned and continued his ascent.

There was the sound of breaking glass upstairs. And then another. Arkin stopped and held up a warning hand.

“What is it?” the doctor asked nervously.

“There was no explosion. I heard something.”

“Look!” Corii shouted, pointing out of the window.

They all turned to see blue figures drifting out of the gloom above them. Each armoured figure had one hand on the handgrip of a rifle, the other on the handgrip of a grey ball, about the size of a human head. The balls were featureless except for the handgrip that protruded below it. Simion looked at Arkin for an answer.

“Gravity parachutes,” Arkin whispered. “They’ll just slowly drift in from the air.”

There was a great burst of light as a huge object swung overhead and headed for plains outside the palace walls. It was a transport, it’s reverse jets blazing away and turning the dark skies into day. Soldiers on the ground looked up to see the descending troops silhouetted against the light, and they began firing up as the enemy began firing down.

The window next to the one they were gazing from suddenley burst inward, a blue-armoured trooper swinging in, using the gravity parachute expertly. He held onto his device as he quickly scanned the staircase and saw the group. With a cry for his religious salvation he raised his rifle but Yedda had already raised his pistol and fired. The blaster bolt flew from his weapon and the shot hit the trooper just under the throat. The energy exploded in a shower of sparks, flinging the man back through the window without a scream. He drifted for a second before hovering stationary above the courtyard, his gravity parachute keeping him from falling. His wrist was through a thong attached to the ball’s handle. His rifle dropped out of sight.

Arkin looked at the emblem emblazoned on the soldiers’ chestpiece. “Janos bastards,” he hissed. He then motioned for them all to continue.

Corii started to climb the stairs but noticed Yedda wasn’t following. He turned to see his brother still staring at the hanging body, his pistol only half-lowered.

He jumped down, grabbed him. “Yedda...” Yedda turned and looked at him with red eyes.

“I killed him.”

“Come, on, you idiot.” Corii pulled hard and Yedda followed clumsily, tripping on the step, regaining his balance and then running.

Up ahead they heard shouts and weaponsfire. As they rounded the curve in the stairs they saw Arkin crouched at the top, leaning slightly out into the corridor above and shooting repeatedly. He ducked back as several beams of energy slammed into the wall, the floor. Sparks and smoke showered all.

“There’s more up here. They’re coming through the upper levels. All we have to do is get across this hall and we can get into the hopper launch bay.” As he said this he ejected the spent cartridge in his pistol and pulled a fresh one from his belt. He popped it into the back of his weapon and primed it. A few more shots from the approaching Janos troops exploded around the hall. Arkin leaned back around the corner, sat on the stairs, and fired four shots. The first hit an advancing shoulder in the chest, flinging him back but the resulting sparks and smoke ruined his accuracy. His last three shots hit the far wall at the end of the corridor, one grazing a diving trooper on the leg. He ducked back round as the soldiers retaliated.

“I’ll cover you all. When I say go, just dive over the hallway and through the door opposite.”

Turor panicked. “I’m not a soldier! How can you expect me to get across there?”

Arkin grabbed the doctor by the lapel and pulled him close. “You have no choice! Run or die, make up your mind now, but remember that you are the only one who knows the condition of this child!” He pulled off three more shots to keep the soldiers back.

“This is a losing battle. Surprise and experience will win this fight for Janos. The surviving members of the Familee bloodline must live. Now get ready!”

As he prepared to move, the door which was their destination burst open and two blue figures ran through, unaware of the conflict in the hall. Arkin levelled his pistol before the others even knew what was happening. He fired two shots that exploded into the visor of one and threw the other back through the portal he had just emerged from. Then he slammed his right hand into his lower left arm, activating the wrist shield. A perfect circle of shimmering energy appeared as if the air itself had been twisted out of focus. The shield, exactly a meter in diameter, was convex against his arm to deflect incoming fire. He jumped up, fired a shot around the corner and then jumped into the middle of the four-meter wide corridor.

“Now!”

He crouched and fired, holding up the shield as the troopers fired at what they saw as an easy target.

Yedda went first, running low and firing a single shot over Arkin’s head as he went to help in the fight, but he was not sure whether he scored a hit or not. The doctor jumped up next.

As he ran a Janos trooper was hit by one of Arkin’s shots in the hip. He screamed, his voice muted by the close-fitting helmet, and his rifle discharged by accident. The red bolt flew the length of the corridor and hit the doctor in the back as he went through the door.

There was another spread of sparks as the shot hit, and he fell forward, trying to protect the child even as he fell. He hit the floor hard with the girl on top, his mouth fell open, he looked like he would scream in pain as his face tensed and his eyes widened, and then he relaxed fully and went still.

Corii dived over, firing a shot of his own which struck a soldier in the hand. He did not notice this as he was watching where he was going whilst firing blindly. He tripped over the body of the doctor as he entered the room.

Simion was next, tapping Arkin on his back as he crossed and disappeared through the doorway.

Multiple shots were slamming into the wrist shield as the soldiers fired, each shot either being absorbed or bouncing off to the walls. Arkin looked at the shield, worried about an overload, but it held. Hangings all down the corridors were ablaze. A particularly accurate shot just caught the top of the shield and nearly blinded Arkin, which he took as his cue to get out of harm’s way. He dived through the door, turned, slammed his hand on the control panel and locked it.

“That won’t hold them for long,” he said, and turned to see Yedda picking the child up from the body of the doctor. He gazed on Turor grimly. “Let’s go.” He stepped over the body and walked quickly down the corridor to the hopper bay entrance.

He entered, checking the bay was clear before waving the others in. In the centre of the bay sat a single hopper, its engines tilted down in the idling position.

“Where are the others?” Yedda said, clutching his sister close. He had to raise his voice as the bay door to the outside was open and the sounds of high winds and battle drifted in.

“Obviously someone had the same idea,” Simion said, looking at the empty bay.

“That one is only large enough for three,” Arkin said and crossed over to the machine and popped the hatch. It was off, so he reached in and hit the engine primer switch. “Which one of you is the best pilot?”

The brothers looked at each other. Corii shrugged. “I’m only good on a riddabeast. I’m no good.”

“I had to be cut from the wreckage of that one three seasons ago, remember?” Yedda said, checking on the child who seemed to be looking at him intently. The scrutiny made him uncomfortable.

“I’ll fly it, then,” Simion said as if annoyed at petty excuses. He stepped forward, but stopped and stared at Arkin. “What about you?”

Arkin looked back down the hall and saw the control lock was glowing red-hot. “They’ll be through at any time and will take shots at you. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.”

“No!” Corii stepped forward himself. “You’ve brought us this far, you have to come!”

“In a hopper designed for three? You’ll already be weighed down with your sister. Get in.”

Yedda grabbed the side of the hopper, placed one leg in and turned back to face his father’s bodyguard. “Arkin...”

“Don’t argue! Just go! Get to the south range landing field and go to a merchant ship called the Recurring Dream. I commissioned the captain of the transport to hold his position in case something happened. He’ll get you off-world and to a safe place.”

“Lucky for us you’re so paranoid. Did you foresee this?” Yedda smiled without humour and took a seat, strapping himself in and holding the child close.

Arkin shook his head. “I thought a quick exit was going to be necessary. I did not anticipate an invasion. Now go! I’ll keep those Janites busy, but you four are no good to me or your bloodline dead.”

As Simion climbed in he extended his hand. “You will be blessed within the halls of House Familee.”

Arkin gripped it with a wicked smile. “Don’t grieve for the dead ‘till you see the light fade from the eyes.”

He stepped back from the hopper as Simion ignited the engines and brought them up to full power. Simion looked out of the closing canopy to see Arkin place his pistol in his left hand and re-activate the wrist shield. Then he slowly drew the sword from the scabbard on his back and switched it on. A thin string of energy appeared down the blade.

The hopper started to slowly lift as Arkin headed back to the hall where the lock had burned away and Janos troopers were pulling the door open manually. They entered the corridor to be confronted by a tall uniformed demon, running towards them with shield raised and sword high.

“Let me show you how we do things in the Setnin Sector!” Arkin screamed, bringing his sword down on the first unfortunate Janites head.

The hopper flew from the bay and into a scene of carnage. The courtyard was littered with bodies, both Janos and Familee troops, and a transport had landed just outside the walls. Its belly had opened to spew forth its cargo of weapons, huge armoured vehicles which rolled from their ships and immediately began firing on the walls. Long bright beams of light swept across the night, burning and vaporising everything they touched. The walls already holed and crumbled by the orbital bombardment, collapsed and the Familee soldiers retreated to the inner walls and the palace, which was already being over-run by Janos gravity parachutists.

A huge sphere was dropped by a hovering transport. It fell to the centre of the Familee defence and bounced once. Then it split apart as if exploding, but there was no smoke or flame. It fragmented into a million razor-sharp pieces, slicing through the Familee ranks with ease. The Janos troops were unharmed, their armour protecting them from the shrapnel. The defender’s numbers were halved in a little over three seconds. The war machines rolled in.

The triplets watched with sadness as fires raged throughout their home.

Chinngard had fallen.