The Topaz Operation Page 6

  The twelve missiles struck a wall of green energy in space just above the atmosphere and exploded one by one, the pieces drifting back toward the planet.

  “Whoa!” said Semo.

  “Dammit, I hate being right,” said Mitchett. “Who’s in charge up there now? Exla’s gone right?”

  “Yeah, it’s uh...Admiral Swaqmota.”

  “Get him on the line.”

  * * *

  Swaqmota’s vessel, the Battleship Kyanite, had taken a beating but held its own. The fighting over Topaz had reached a stalemate despite the valiant efforts of Fleet Groups Two and Six. Group Six was supposed to do the slingshot as well but was stymied by a stiff Archon blockade.

  Swaqmota, a short tough man with straight black hair, examined his main tactical screen. Based on his experience, the Archon fleet appeared not to be bringing their full force and perhaps were even backing off a bit. Mole or no mole, they weren’t expecting this level of attack from Chrysolite and may have taken a big hit on the chin. Swaqmota’s priority comm light blinked. “Lieutenant, perhaps this is news.”

  Lieutenant Noff, his dark-skinned female navigation officer, pressed the comm. “This is Kyanite. Please identify yourselves.”

  “Admiral, do you copy? This is Commander M-1 of the elite forces group G-2, embedded in Laylon.”

  “Yes, Commander. Go ahead,” said Swaqmota.

  “I reckon the Archon just threw up a copycat of Chrysolite’s defense shielding, except this one can be flip-flopped to not let anything out!”

  “Sir,” said Noff. “I can confirm pockets of new deflectors popping up all over the capital area.”

  “Hmm. That might explain the partial withdrawal the Archon forces have been making over the last hour. They are getting comfy behind their new shields.”

  “What does that mean, Admiral?” asked Mitchett.

  “It means that for now, unless we get reinforcements, we’ll stand down, hold our ground and hope the Onyx mission is successful. Though, to be blunt, I’m having my doubts. Two entire battlegroups have been blocked from approaching Onyx either by slingshot or by the scenic route.”

  “With respect, sir, I know the guy in charge of the secret strike mission, and I have no doubt he’ll succeed,” said Mitchett.

  The corner of Swaqmota’s lip turned upward. “Or Ryle will die trying.”

  * * *

  Buildings all over Laylon glowed green. Mitchett and company hunkered down in their hideout.

  “So, is our rocket business kaput, Mitch?” said M-4, also known as Sergeant Jak Rostov.

  “Looks like it. Some of the Archs are under the shield but in the other hemisphere—too far out of range for us. Semo, close up shop here. Everybody suit up.”

  Semo packed up his computer station. The team secured helmets on and rifles loaded and ready.

  “We’re gonna get back to our original mission plan—disrupt Archon communications. Where are Yex and Retmann?” said Mitchett. Leri Yex, a.k.a. M-3, and Retmann had gone out for a quick recon check and were now late.

  “Here they come!” said Rostov.

  The duo sprinted down the corridor. “Archon troops heading this way! Ninety-eight percent probability that we’re discovered,” panted Retmann.

  “Move! Out the east entrance,” said Mitchett.

  “There are empty hover tanks about half a block to the south,” said Yex.

  An explosion rocked their building. Shoulder-loaded rockets hurled into their area exploding against the walls churning up fiery debris all around them. The team busted out of the exit and scampered south keeping tight along the building.

  A squad of eight purple and black-clad Archon troops emerged around the corner, but Mitchett’s team quickly dispatched most of them with blaster shots. Rostov impaled the last one with his short sword. The team crossed a street corner and ducked into an empty building.

  Mitchett led them up a flight of stairs and they huddled near a large window at the south side. From there they spied out a line of four unmanned hover tanks just below them.

  “One for almost each of us,” said Rostov. “You and the commander can share,” he said to Semo.

  A deafening, motorized hissing sound rumbled from the sky above, lowering towards their position. “I know that sound. Get down!” shouted Mitchett.

  A Gak Destroyer descended next to the building and opened fire with its primary plasma cannons, shattering windows and obliterating the building’s brick walls into thousands of pieces. Mitchett curled up on the floor with his hands over his head to block falling debris from crushing his skull. A break in the Gak’s barrage let him gather his wits. Figuring his best chance lay ahead, Mitchett pushed himself up and jumped out the window down toward a hover tank.

  A silver projectile struck the tank the second before Mitchett landed and the tank imploded, disappearing into nothingness under him. Mitchett hit the ground and rolled onto his side. “Aw, come on!”

  Ten Archon troops surrounded him with guns pointed at his head.

  Chapter 14

  Prys played dead as the warbot marched over. The crunch of its metallic legs had become a dreaded sound. With her eyes squeezed shut and her breathing halted, the crunching sound faded. She opened her eyes to the dusty swirl of the battlefield littered with the usual victims. Dozens of her people lay strewn about, dead, or helpless. The Archon’s warbot platoon marched away for the day, back to the Archon Desert Base they called the “Scorpion Base” because of all the scorpions that crawled in and around it. The spiky-tailed critters didn’t like the Archon either, stinging any troops that messed with them. Much of the citizens’ misery stemmed from that installation.

  With the troops leaving, at least Prys could attempt to drag her husband to a medtent without being stopped. Once the day’s “training” exercises began, Edward collapsed out of sickness and exhaustion. The doctors too were being forced onto the battlefield, so Prys hadn’t been able to get Edward treated. She had no idea what all of this was achieving for the Archon except to create more hatred for them.

  She grabbed her husband by the arm and hauled him over her shoulder. While she was in good shape, all things considered, his six-foot frame was too much for her. After trudging twenty feet, she fell to her knees. Her stomach felt hollow and her wits foggy—no food since morning did not help her strength. She turned and strained her neck, squinting to glimpse any signs of possible help. A few others staggered nearby back toward the camps.

  “Please, help me! My husband is ill,” Prys stammered out, her mouth parched from dehydration.

  “Aren’t we all!” said a man staggering on a wounded, bleeding leg.

  A woman dressed in Black Onyx armor walked by on her other side. Prys called out to her, but the woman shook her head. “We don’t help Sardonyx,” said the woman as she trudged on past.

  Prys had been forced to wear the armor of the Sardonyx faction that day. “I’m not a part of any faction! I’m just trying to help my family.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she willed them away as they would only delay getting Edward help.

  “Let me help you,” said a gentle voice from behind Prys. An older lady, probably in her sixties, with dark brown skin and wrinkled face held out her hand.

  “Thank you,” said Prys. Together they hoisted Edward up between their shoulders. “The medtent is a half-mile away.”

  “No, Sweetie. That one’s gone. Archs took it out. We gotta go up the hill.”

  Prys nodded, disappointed but not surprised. The older lady wore Black Onyx armor, half of which was missing and the remaining half smeared with shrapnel damage and faint streaks of blood.

  * * *

  “Brayden, they’re moving us again. Stand up!” said Malaiya. She kicked her little brother in the shin as he leaned against the dusty trench wall.

  “Ow,” said Brayden. He pushed himself up to a standing position, brushed off some dirt from his grey work shirt, and followed her through the trench. “I’m tired.”

  “Get
your shovel!” she said. “If you don’t bring it they’ll turn your arm into a shovel. I’ve seen it.”

  Brayden ran back and snatched up his metal shovel, the only object he and Malaiya had touched the past few days.

  The kids were beyond dirty. The smell of grime and sweat nearly knocked out Malaiya. She wondered if her mother would be furious that they hadn’t had a bath in…she couldn’t remember the last time. She kept her head down so the warbots wouldn’t single her out for being “rebellious.”

  “What are we looking for anyway? I never find anything,” said Brayden.

  “We’ve gone over this.” She guided him out of the trench into the assembly area where hundreds of other dirt-faced children gathered, kicking up sand and dirt into the sky obscuring the already dim red sun. The kids scuffled into mostly single file lines.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “We’ll know it when we see it,” said Malaiya.

  “That’s stupid. How will I know it when I see it if I don’t know what it is?”

  Another boy nearby, ten-years-old, with a buzz haircut and thick biceps for his age, elbowed Brayden in the ribs.

  “Ow, Arlo!” said Brayden.

  “It’s this,” said Arlo. He opened his palm revealing a sparkling, white diamond.

  Malaiya and Brayden’s eyes went wide. “Whoa,” said Brayden.

  “If you hide that from them, you’re dead, Arlo,” said Malaiya.

  “We’re dead anyway. At least I’ll die rich,” said Arlo.

  “Don’t say that,” said Malaiya through clenched teeth. “Here they come!”

  A warbot marched through their column. Arlo stuffed the diamond in his back pocket and stood at attention.

  “Don’t sit on it,” said Brayden with a smirk. Malaiya shushed him quiet.

  The warbot stomped past them, its feet kicking up clouds of dirt, peppering the kids. The bot stopped and lifted its right arm which had been converted into a claw-like set of pliers which rotated with a menacing squeal. Malaiya tensed up and coughed, the dirt cloud tickling her throat. Her hands shot over her mouth.

  The warbot spoke through a sound-enhancing speaker in its mouth, echoing its voice over the whole group. “Your work here is finished. You are being transferred to the next location. Your service is valuable to the Archon.” The bot raised its right arm over its head and a thunderous horn blared out of its mouth.

  The lines of children began moving. Malaiya tugged on Brayden’s arm to get him going. “Come on.”

  The warbots, supervised by Archon officers riding on mini-scrum tanks, marched the children through the desert. The marches were not unusual, but after a while this one dragged on.

  “I need water, Mal,” said Brayden.

  “I know. Just wait.”

  “I’ve been waiting forever.” He hacked out a scratchy cough as did many other kids agitated by their environs.

  Malaiya didn’t exactly love the desert either. The endless marching spurred sharp aches in her foot arches. She wiped sweat off her brow, desperately missing her mom’s raspberry juice. Sadness welled up within, but she wouldn’t let herself cry in front of Brayden. Why was this march taking so long? Their column rounded a rocky mound and came upon a fleet of space freighters.

  “Those are space ships!” said Brayden. “Are we getting on those?”

  Having never left Onyx before, Malaiya was stumped. “I…don’t know.”

  Up ahead near the ships, a couple of the older boys argued with the soldiers—apparently they were resisting being pushed onboard. A trooper swung the butt of his rifle at a one boy, knocking him unconscious.

  Malaiya’s heart pumped faster. She clasped Brayden’s hand.

  * * *

  After an arduous climb up the hill, Prys, Edward, and the old lady reached a plateau with a panoramic view of the plain southwest of Kudra. Mount Anecho towered in the distance. A solitary tent stood with one doctor helping those who managed to drag themselves and their loved ones up there.

  Prys laid Edward to the ground. Exhausted, she crawled over to the tent. “Water, please. Can we have water first?”

  The doctor, applying a fresh bandage to a man’s gashed arm, glanced at her. “That’s hard to come by.”

  “Please,” said Prys. “We came all this way.”

  The doctor saw Edward, clearly sick and pale, lying on the ground. He reached into a bag, pulled out a canteen, and handed it to Prys. Grateful, she grabbed it and went back to Edward. She poured water into his mouth, making sure he swallowed it. She sprinkled water on his forehead which was blazing hot at the touch. She took a drink herself and offered some to the lady who helped her, but the lady was distracted by the view down on the plain.

  “What is it?” asked Prys.

  The lady pointed.

  Children—by the thousands—were being herded onto Archon transport ships. Prys, not holding back the tears anymore, let them gush freely. “They said the children were staying here. Oh how could I be so stupid to believe that?”

  The lady put her arms around Prys. “Do you have any?”

  Prys nodded through her tears. “Malaiya...she’s, she’s ten. And Brayden’s eight.”

  “Have faith, Sweetie. They’ll be all right.”

  All Prys could do was weep and watch as the transport ships closed up their ramps, lifted up by the dozens and blasted away into the sky, flying past the looming shape of Mount Anecho.

  Chapter 15

  The Arrow rounded the largest of Onyx’s two moons, Alga, named for the fluorescent green algae that covered seventy percent of its surface, the solar system’s largest collection of algae, most of which visible from space. The green mingled with faint red from the sun producing a mesmerizing shade.

  Sensors showed the Archon’s foremost Onyx space station, KL5, orbiting Alga on the side opposite them. The lead battleship, the Prowler, lurked around as well. Peex skillfully steered them clear of those threats. KL5 was the primary hub for Archon ships to refuel in space and, along with the Prowler, kept away unwanted visitors.

  “So glad to be flying free again,” said Peex, guiding their path around the moon.

  “If this is free, I’d hate to be under constraints,” said Bao.

  “Quan, our best coordinates look like...281.7, north of a cluster of hills on the outskirts of Kudra,” said Ryle.

  “Roger that. Engage infiltration backup plan, I take it?” said Peex.

  “Yep,” said Ryle. Their fleet was supposed to have stormed in and blazed a path, but with Exla tied up they would have to be more careful sneaking in. Fortunately, the Arrow IV’s stealth deflector shielding had improved dramatically over the Arrow III, allowing them to slip through essentially undetected.

  Ryle had ordered the trip around Alga as an opportunity to use the Arrow’s scanning capabilities to get a glimpse of Archon surface activities. Results were as expected: military bases, mining, and huge open spaces with nothing but dead rocks and algae. The Arrow sped out of the moon’s orbit straight toward Onyx.

  As they edged closer to the planet, its namesake, the onyx gemstone, became visible on several mountain ranges in black and red tints, reminding Ryle of the warring factions. Still processing Turj’s scant intel report, Ryle wondered how the factions were coping with their new situation. If the reports were true—that Aqtal was employing Zermal for outright torture and brainwashing—the Sardonyx and Black Onyx would not put up with it for long no matter how outnumbered they may be.

  The Arrow slid into a steep orbit, making a rapid descent toward the city. As they neared Kudra, the mountain range containing Mount Anecho revealed itself amidst foggy clouds to the south of the city. The orange-hued desert surrounded the mountain range’s south side.

  “Ryle,” said Bao, breaking up Ryle’s thoughts. “So, even if we catch Zermal, is that going to make a difference? I thought we were supposed to take back the planet.”

  Lygalia entered the cockpit. “Just what I was wondering.”

  Ryle scrat
ched his stubble-covered chin. “Obviously, the overall operation is being adjusted…again. For us, this is our task, and I think it’s a good one. If we can bring Zermal back alive it’ll be a huge intelligence boost, not to mention a slap in Aqtal’s face.”

  Lygalia cocked her head slightly to the left in a pensive pose. “Upon reflection, it may be better not having the entire fleet accompanying us, alerting everyone of our arrival.”

  “Exactly,” said Ryle. “Of course, who knows? Maybe our people will pull off a great victory in space and swoop in right behind us.”

  The comm beeped. “Attention, this is Admiral Exla. Chrysolite fleet retreating. Repeat, full retreat. Code fourteen.”

  Bao’s head drooped.

  Code fourteen, Ryle noted inwardly, was a code reserved for special circumstances, kept classified from junior officers. “Let’s press on.”

  The ship clung to the clouds above Kudra as long as possible to avoid visual detection while sensors were set to obfuscate enemy tracking. Newly industrialized areas around the city marred the previous charm of the western side. Construction boomed on new Archon hardware: ships, fighters, battle cruisers, etc.

  The Arrow quietly passed into the hills and descended. After detecting no wildlife inside, Peex squeezed the ship into a cave just big enough to conceal it. Like the previous version, this Arrow was rigged to self-destruct if anyone tried to break in. Ryle prayed that wouldn’t happen this time.

  The ship was equipped with a compact five-person anti-grav “snake speeder” which could silently transport them distances much quicker than on foot—one practical reason for the small team. The speeder’s five interlocking sections held one person each and could bend, snake-like, as needed to go up or down hills. Bao tested the first section, pushing down with his right boot. The section moved smoothly downward while the other sections vibrated quietly in place behind it. Bao nodded approval. “This thing is awesome.”