Unlike those superior forms, however, plasma mortars didn’t cause a lot of radiation and other negative effects. They were thought of as “clean” weapons, because they caused a powerful blast but they didn’t poison the land they devastated. To me, it was a small comfort, but if you wanted to live in these lands after the battle… well, I could understand the native reluctance to moving up to something with more kick.

  Besides all that, we didn’t have an easy way to deliver a fusion warhead right now. Our fleet was grounded and couldn’t lift off without possibly being struck down by the intelligent missiles of the enemy.

  Accordingly, I brought mortars down the ramp with an angry Jort holding the ring on the other side of a heavy box.

  “This is a mistake, Captain,” he told me. “These pirates aren’t worthy of such valuable weapons. I doubt they will even agree to pay for them.”

  I winced at his words, as I expected they might be true. I was reminded of Sosa’s comments. She’d called me a poor smuggler, and a failure as a merchant. It was undeniably true—I didn’t always get paid for my wares.

  “We’re deploying these weapons for two reasons, Jort. One, to save the Vindari citizens.”

  Jort made a face, but I ignored him.

  “Two, we’re about to be overwhelmed by this enemy. I want to cut their army down to size.”

  “You think things are that bad, huh? Damn... All right, let’s go blow them down.”

  We worked to set up the mortars. Trask’s men came to see what we were doing, but when they saw the mortars, they backed away warily. Such weapons weren’t always stable, especially if they’d been stored for a long time without maintenance.

  When we finally had one of the units set up, we hastily targeted the hills in the distance, and we fired the mortar.

  I didn’t ask for Trask’s permission first. I didn’t feel that I needed it. After all, he’d told me to “do something” in no uncertain terms. I felt this attack clearly qualified as taking drastic action.

  A single, green plasma ball rose high, then it fell quickly down toward the enemy lines. Jort shouted and whooped. His big arm pumped the air.

  A silent explosion blurred our vision in the distance. It was as if an entire hillside was caught up in a heat-shimmer on a summer road. Several seconds later, a thunderclap rang out.

  “You hit them, Gorman! First try!”

  “It looks like we landed some of that. Adjust two degrees north. Reload.”

  Jort worked with me, grinning for the first time all day. Moments later, a second green ball of plasma rose and fell.

  The aliens woke up about then. Apparently, they didn’t approve of my strikes. They launched a dozen missiles with fiery tails in our direction. Forming a loose volley, the missiles rose up from the bounding multitude and came sailing toward us over the low hills.

  Behind the missiles, thousands of killbeasts rushed our lines. They raced over the ground in a wild charge. Each leaping step took them farther than any human had ever jumped in history.

  “They don’t like the mortars,” Jort observed. “Let’s throw more shells at them.”

  We continued to fire, and the killbeasts came on in a full assault. They’d decided to charge our lines rather than lose any more troops to bombardment.

  The alien missiles began to fall less than a minute later. They wobbled in their last moments of flight, the tiny brains operating the projectiles were clearly deciding on their final targets. The first few chose ships, but that didn’t work out for them. They struck the force domes Trask had ordered raised. Energies splashed and flickered blue-white—but the domes held.

  The missiles, seeing the pointless self-destruction of their brothers before them, shifted targets. They fell among our troop concentrations, dropping into the trenches that were choked with black-booted Sword Brothers. Hundreds of fine troops were killed in an instant.

  “Fire!” I roared at Jort. He worked our mortar again, and another green ball rose and fell.

  We aimed for the nearest ground we dared to. About a kilometer out from our entrenched soldiers. That should be safe, and we hoped the killbeasts might be there when the volley fell. The targeting was difficult, and much of it was guesswork. I’d never been trained as an artillery man, and neither had Jort.

  Fortunately, we did fairly well. Something like a thousand killbeasts were crushed and blown to smoking fragments. Others, on the edge of the blast radius, managed to crawl away with their lives.

  “That’s all we can do,” I said, surveying the carnage. “They’re too close now, we’d only kill our own soldiers.”

  Jort nodded. He grinned with all his big flat teeth and snorted. His heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

  “We fought well here today, Captain. Don’t let a few mistakes confuse things. We killed more of them than they did of us.”

  “Mistakes?”

  He pointed out toward the west. I saw there a smoking crater. Every tree lay flat. Every blade of grass was a blackened crisp—and part of that blast zone overlapped our nearest trench line.

  “There must be a hundred dead men or more. How did that happen, Jort?”

  “Uh… I might have kicked the mortar. Just once, though…”

  I nodded grimly, and we dismantled the mortar. We dragged it back up into the ship. Trask was screaming for my attention before we had time to do more than lay it on the deck of my hold.

  “Where are you, Gorman?” he demanded from my com unit’s tiny speaker. “Was that you laying plasma balls on the enemy? You have to stop firing, they’re in the trenches now.”

  “I’ve ceased fire, Trask. It’s up to the men on the front lines at this point.”

  “Don’t talk like a coward. Come out of your spider-hole and join me on the southern front. That’s where they’re hitting us the hardest.”

  I did as he asked, but I wasn’t entirely happy about it. The southern front was the most forward position we had. It was the spot where the killbeast rush was bound to land first.

  Jort followed me at a jog. We had nothing more than freshly-charged rifles in our hands and determination in our eyes—but that would have to do.

  We found Trask in the back of the trenches, squatting in a muddy hole. We slid down into it with him, splashing his tunic with muck.

  He stood tall and began to growl, but his face softened. He jabbed finger at Jort.

  “You seriously let this ape operate a mortar with you? No wonder you hit my lines.”

  Jort snarled silently. I ignored them both.

  “How are we doing, sir? Will the lines hold?”

  “I think so… but I’m not certain. This enemy… they’re just as fierce as those we faced at Sardez. If anything, I think they’re more vigorous, faster of movement. They’re a blur on the battlefield.”

  I nodded, thinking it over. “Those we encountered on that planetoid were half-starved and half-frozen. This world is warm and teeming with things to eat. These troops are at their best.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Listen Gorman, how many more of these things do you think are out there? On this planet, I mean?”

  I knew right away where his thoughts were drifting. We were winning this battle, but only barely. If the enemy had another army behind this one, just as large and fierce… well, any Sword Brother might be thinking about pulling out. They weren’t accustomed to fighting to the last man, after all. They were mercenaries. They were raiders who struck and ran, men who liked to dish out more pain than they took.

  My face lit up in a smile. “This has to be all of them, Baron,” I lied without compunction. “You’ll see. After Harkaman slaughters their nests, they’ll be broken. There will be no second army marching our way.”

  Troubled, Trask nodded. “I hope you’re right. I really do.”

  Inwardly, I confessed to myself that I was fervently hopeful as well.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The aliens gave up on their first assault and withdrew. We cheered and counted our dead.

  In the aftermath, Trask and I moved to his makeshift headquarters. This was set up on the command deck of his personal destroyer. The technology in the Sword Brothers warship dwarfed anything the Vindari natives had to offer.

  We were elated by our victory, but the hours that followed soon showed that our hopes of an easy win in this war were in vain. Harkaman had landed at a nest site, but he’d encountered stiff resistance. Even as he destroyed the nest, another army arrived from the surrounding lands to defend it.

  “We barely escaped with our lives,” Droad told me in a private conversation.

  “Nuke the next one,” I told him. “It’s the safest way.”

  Droad hesitated, but he nodded in the end. “Perhaps we’ll have to, but that’s a dark road to take. The natives of this world will pay a heavy price for many decades.”

  “They’ll pay a worse price now if they’re overwhelmed and devoured.”

  “Point taken…”

  He disconnected, and I turned my attention back to Trask, who was watching me closely.

  “What’s the word from Harkaman?” he asked.

  “We’ve destroyed the first nest. They’re back in the air and looking for the next.”

  Trask eyed me for a moment, but then he nodded. “Good news then. If we can hold here without too much trouble—”

  As if on cue, warning tones sounded. Trask’s staffers leaned over their tabletop battle-computer in concern.

  “What now…?” Trask demanded as he consulted his instruments. He was soon frowning again. “Another army? So soon?”

  “Where?”

  “About ten kilometers to the north… they must have circled around. They’re going to hit the city itself this time, instead of the spaceport.” He laughed. “Rago will soon learn he’s in this fight as much as any of us.”

  “Maybe we should withdraw our ships,” I said quietly. “While their missiles are out of range.”

  Trask shook his head. “It was my instinct to do so as soon as the threat from missile attack was gone, I admit, but Rago countermanded the move. He wants his fleet to stay close to him personally.”

  I nodded, thinking it over. As professional and experienced as the Sword Brothers were, they didn’t have all the right moves when it came to an all-out war. They were raiders by nature, men who lived by their wits and trusted no one with their lives.

  If Trask took the ships into orbit, Rago knew that he could be left behind. Trask could take command of all the ships if Rago died on the planetary surface—that was Sword Brother law.

  “One would think both you and Rago could withdraw the ships safely to space.”

  Trask shrugged. “That shows you don’t fully understand us. If we aren’t willing to risk our necks—at least credibly so—our own knight-captains won’t follow us. It’s a delicate balance, you see. When leading a band of warriors, you have to both show bravery and personal sacrifice—and yet stay alive all the while.”

  “You’ve kept that balance for two decades, Baron. I must bow to your experience.”

  We went back to the screens, but I was still troubled. It was hard to know the strength of the enemy. Had we nearly broken them? Or had we only blunted the tip of their spear? I really didn’t know which it was.

  As more and more aliens came to encircle the capital city, my neck felt hot and itchy in my collar. I wanted to flee. I wanted to take Royal Fortune into space and save my crew. A thousand arguments and excuses went through my mind in sequence.

  How much of a difference could one smuggler’s ship and a handful of crewmen make in the coming struggle? If we took off and watched from above, it probably wouldn’t change the outcome…

  I knew what Trask would say, however. He’d point out that my employment of the mortars had saved the day only a few hours before. Who knew what surprises the next struggle might bring?

  There was also the matter of personal pride. Trask and his army were standing, waiting for the next assault. So was Rago. I’d started this entire effort, and to bail out now… well, it would come hard to me.

  So the hours crawled. The enemy made no more hasty, madcap assaults on our positions. Instead, they encircled the entire region, letting their numbers grow. We soon came to understand that they’d disregarded our firepower when they’d first arrived. Perhaps they’d assumed we’d fight no harder than the militia had in the southern forests. After the shock of being repulsed initially, they were proceeding with much more caution.

  The mortars I’d brought out had been confiscated. They were more effective at the kind of ranges we were dealing with in this struggle than the usual equipment Trask and Rago had aboard.

  The Sword Brothers were accustomed to small military engagements. They didn’t invade planets, or defend them—they raided them and fled. Accordingly, their only artillery was designed to break down weak fortifications and disrupt the defenders inside.

  They had shock-cannons, primarily. These were short-ranged weapons that used sonic disruption to stun opponents and rupture barriers and the like.

  My mortars were much more drastic, weapons designed to kill hundreds at a time. They could flatten a forest or a city block, if used for that purpose.

  Accordingly, Rago and Trask took the six mortars I’d brought from the Sardez system and placed them around the city for protection. Only one stayed at the spaceport, the unit that Jort and I had employed. The rest were confiscated for the defense of the entire city perimeter.

  This caused Trask to throw a fit. Only Jort himself seemed more outraged.

  “This is shit-of-the-bull!” Jort shouted at me. “Why did you let them take our best weapons?”

  “Jort, it wasn’t my choice. I’m not in command here.”

  “Those mortars belong to us. To the crew of Royal Fortune.”

  “No, I committed all our guns to the defense of Vindar.”

  “How much you get for those mortars, then?”

  “What?”

  “How many credits? A lot, I bet, huh?” Jort looked at me angrily, defiantly.

  “No… I didn’t take separate payment for them. This is a joint effort. We’re here to save—”

  “It’s just like Sosa says, isn’t it? You’ve changed, Captain. You’re not a merchant anymore. You’re a giver-of-things. A man who enjoys the false pride of generosity while others laugh and take everything he has!”

  It was my turn to become annoyed. Apparently, Sosa was complaining to every member of my crew except me.

  “Excuse me, Jort. I have to settle something.”

  I left him and found Sosa. She didn’t look up when I came into the saloon. She was swilling some tea. Anyone else aboard would have been suspected of spiking such a beverage, but not her. It was just plain tea. No sugar, no lemon—nothing.

  “Hello Sosa, I think we need to talk.”

  Her eyes slid up to my face, then dropped to her tea again. “Really? Do we have something left in the hold to give away? Or are you transferring me to serve as a cabin wench aboard Trask’s destroyer?”

  I felt a growl rumble in my throat, but I controlled it. I took the seat opposite her and dialed up a beer from the auto-dispenser. It was cool, but not cold. I drank it easily enough.

  “It’s come to my attention that you’re not completely happy with my decisions lately. Do you care to explain yourself?”

  That got her to look up. She flashed a frown at me. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to apologize for.”

  “On the contrary. You’ve been undermining morale and badmouthing your captain’s decisions.”

  She sputtered. “I might have said a thing or two—but everyone agrees with me.”

  “Everyone does, huh? Is that before or after you bring it up?”

  She looked down at her tea again. Her shoulders were hunched, defensive. “After…” she admitted. “Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t sign on for heroic campaigns. I thought we were operating a business.”

  “We were. But when ruthless aliens begin destroying humanity, every member of our species has to respond. To do otherwise will mean doom in the end.”

  Sosa nodded, sipping her tea. “I understand. I’m just… disappointed.”

  I stood up and forced a smile. “Good then. I’m glad we had this chat. I don’t want you to undermine me any further with the crew, understand?”

  She nodded, eyes downcast and troubled.

  I moved to leave, but she reached out and touched my hand. “Haven’t we done our part here, William? Can’t we just leave? We gave them everything we had… everything. Selling our lives on this planet won’t change the results of this war. Let’s lift off and fly.”

  I looked at her seriously. I could tell this was what she really wanted. It was an understandable desire. Her life had always been that of a thief in the night. She wasn’t a person who stood on principle or merit. She made a profit, or she didn’t, and she moved on. To take the money and run—that was what she understood.

  Heaving a sigh, I shook my head. “We’d demoralize the leadership. The Sword Brothers are out of their element here, just as much as we are. If we run, they might do the same. Maybe not all at once, but bit by bit. We can’t be the first to break.”

  She looked down again and went back to sipping her tea. I left her there, and I moved back up to the bridge.

  I knew in my heart that a thousand conversations like the one I’d just experienced had to be going on all over the fleet. No pirate, smuggler or thief wanted to stand and fight a fair battle. It wasn’t in their natures.

  But today, there wasn’t anyone else out here to do this dirty job. We’d been left holding the bag, and I meant to do the best we could.

  Chapter Forty

  The night did not pass peacefully. When the next attack came, I was left wondering how we didn’t expect it. How did thousands of us all fail to suspect the enemies next move?

  It started with the ripping sound of gunfire. Shouts rang out in the night air, and after a minute or so, a warbling siren began to rise and fall.