Forged by Battle (WarVerse Book 1) (11 page)

Chapter 25

Johnston

"We have limited time before we enter warp to discuss all the details of this next mission," Johnston began. "It seems Joint Fleet has decided our unofficial shakedown cruise is over." He paused as cheers went up around the room.

He raised a hand for silence. "The following is classified secret. Six months ago, a portal opened on the military testing world of Aberdeen. Due to the portal’s dimensions and permanency, a research facility was constructed on both the near and far sides of the breach. That facility has been paramount to Joint Fleet’s understanding of these damn tears. Two weeks ago, the Verdantun appeared in the jungle and captured the entire scientific contingent that facility housed. These forces attacked Aberdeen from the portal, and our own forces sustained heavy casualties before pushing them back." His blunt words fell like stones. The loss of a facility like Aberdeen would cause major production problems for the fleet. Alien technology might power their engines and keep them mobile, but human tech gave the war machine its teeth.

"How?" Andrews, a Falcon pilot, asked.

"We are unsure of the specifics, but it appears as though a second portal opened less than a hundred klicks outside the far side research facility. By the time the colony was able to send a distress signal, it was already too late. However, we have reason to believe some of the scientists may still be alive. The research facility is the highest priority to the fleet, and our own Spec Ops platoon was dispatched through the gate. The intel they sent back is the reason we are pulling in troops from our escorts."

Johnston paused as he accessed his AMI, changing the hologram from a full-planet view to a grid square with various symbols for units on the ground.

"The situation is as follows: The Verdantun have entrenched on the opposite side of the portal." He pointed at the hologram, where a blue line separated the graph. "The recon platoon has sent back intel stating that after the initial Joint Fleet push to take back the facility, the enemy set up a forward operating base and appear intent on keeping the territory. They're fighting with everything they have, and Fleet thinks the planet in contention—code name 'Hecate'—is some sort of portal hotspot.

"Holding Hecate could be the beachhead we need to seek out the Verdantun home world. They’re drawing a line in the dirt because they can't afford to allow us any further. I will stress the importance of finding their home planet. If we were to capture it, then we would be one step closer to ending this war and getting these damn elves off earth."

Johnston slammed one fist into the opposite palm, but he needn't have bothered; he had the room’s undivided attention.

"Recon believes there to be a brigade-sized element of feral Verdantun along with their support contingent. They have Stormcallers and Pyromancer artillery. No reported corporeal elementals or dragons as of yet."

The room breathed a sigh of relief.

"They seem to be a mainly arboreal feral tribe, with a large number of bear and wolf analogs. Their air support, if any, has remained grounded thus far. They have been sending a steady volley of artillery fire at the portal, and they are shielding their camp from ours. Aberdeen Colony, as I'm sure many of you know, is built in a woodland valley between several large mountains. The portal exits at the base of one. On the elf side it opens into a dense jungle under a solid cloud cover created by the Stormcallers."

A new wireframe map of what Vincent assumed was the far-side facility spun into view behind the admiral. It comprised a dozen or so rectangular buildings, plus a dome-shaped one, around an oval representing the portal. Small dots appeared among the buildings.

"Since receiving this message, the portal has exchanged hands five times, and our forces on the ground are evenly matched. Two brigades of the 101st Infantry are on station supported by the 64th Tank Battalion. The troop deployments were downloaded to your AMIs, and the battalions were deployed with friend-or-foe emitters. Study them before our arrival. The last burst transmission that we received outlined our forces dug in the hard buildings, though we have been unable to push any further. A shield has been erected and it is stopping a majority of the enemy artillery. This was a rush operation, and there are no advanced tech assets available. These brigades were being rotated back core-ward for refit and resupply. They have little, if any, droid, walker, or mobile armor support.

"The portal dirt side is low to the ground, and too small for any warships to traverse. A fighter, however, will have more than enough room to maneuver. The atmospheric pressure on the far side is far denser than Aberdeen, and Fleet Intelligence has decided that the only ships that can reliably make the transitions are the Chimera." Johnston looked at Vincent.

Stunned for a moment, Vincent blinked, then managed to choke out, "Yes, sir, the Reapers can do it," before Johnston continued.

"The Chimera will be re-outfitted for atmospheric maneuvering, and the
Inferno
will descend into the upper thermosphere where you will be deployed. The 101st has retaken the landing pads at the colony and they will serve as your forward base while operations continue dirt side." Johnston turned his attention away before Vincent had time to argue, or even agree. "There is a good chance they will need direct air support the moment you break dirt side. So be prepared to enter the portal immediately."

The map twisted and changed again, this time showing a slightly more familiar view of Aberdeen Colony City, with another portal off to the side. The wire frame zoomed in on the portal and a series of arrows appeared.

"Your ships will have to dive and enter the portal at an angle in order to clear the buildings on the far side. This particular portal screws with momentum, so how you traverse this obstacle will be up to you. The Falcons will be deployed as well; however, they will remain on the Aberdeen side. Patrol routes will be mapped out and executed. If the ferals do have an aerial presence we don't need to be caught off guard.

"Be prepared to execute movement no later than one hour after we break warp. You have from now until then to brief your men and ready your planes." Johnston clicked off the hologram and the room snapped to attention. "Let's show them what
Inferno
's fighters can do." Then he marched from the room.

Chapter 26

Vincent

Any pride Vincent might have felt at the captain placing him as the spearhead of the operation was lost in a single repeating thought. The Aberdeen scientists had been captured. Derek had been at Aberdeen. He had been presumed dead in the fighting. If the elves took captives... Vincent hurried back to the fighter bay. He needed to plan, needed to do everything he could to ensure the mission was successful.

You had better still be alive, Derek, or I'll kill you myself.

Chapter 27

Rodrom

The wolf-guard managed to keep the animal within him contained, and dragged Rodrom along just far enough for them to get caught by another mortar. The blast tore them both from their feet, and a sharp pain shot behind Rodrom's eyes as his ears screamed in protest against the pressure. Disoriented, he tried to blink away the haze that clouded his sight, only to have it choked off again by the rising cloud of black smoke from the impact crater. A vicious howl cut through the ringing sound as the guard's bestial form took hold. The tone of the call changed to a fearful whine, and Rodrom dragged himself towards the alien.

Beyond the smoking crater, a larger-than-life wolf lay with its back to Rodrom. The telltale bone spikes along the spine left no doubt of its alien nature. Rodrom could also see an additional spike—a metal shaft that pinned the wolf’s arm and a portion of its chest to the ground. With a deep breath to ward off the sudden nausea from moving, Rodrom dragged himself closer. The wolf's chest rattled as he tried to breathe around the shrapnel.

Buffeted by another wave of nausea and the pressure of a third nearby round, Rodrom pressed himself low into the mud. Fortunately it wasn't close enough to actually harm them, but the shockwave on his already-wounded brain proved too much. Rodrom retched uncontrollably, throwing up the gruel he had been forced to consume earlier.
Concussion. I most definitely have a concussion
,
he thought as he shuddered and wiped his mouth. There was no time to waste, so he struggled forward again, unable to avoid his own vomit as he crawled.

When he reached the wounded wolf-guard, Rodrom pushed himself up to his knees and tried to catch his breath. Just as he had seen from far away, a twenty-centimeter length of shrapnel had punctured the Wolf's right upper appendage and continued far enough to pierce between two ribs on the right side, and most likely into the lung beneath.

Rodrom leaned down to press his ear against the wolf’s chest, mentally commanding his AMI to begin filtering through the noises of battle for the creature’s heartbeat and the sound of air moving in the lung. Almost immediately, it was clear to Rodrom that the shrapnel had pierced the lung tissue, and without the proper interventions, the wound would begin trapping air and a tension pneumothorax would develop.

Rodrom looked up and searched his immediate surroundings for a healer, or, save that, something he could use to improvise a needle. He wiped his brow as he searched his surroundings, though he was sweating so profusely that it hardly made a difference. The elves were still running back and forth between the trees, but none were close enough for Rodrom to call.

When Rodrom turned back, the look on the wolf-guard’s face was one of pure terror. It looked for all the world a wounded house dog. How similar the two of them were, Rodrom thought, despite coming from different worlds, different realities. The elves feared death just the same.

Alright, Derek, you're running out of time. Time to MacGyver something.
"Brilliant advice," he wheezed aloud.

The wolf-guard’s respirations came faster and more shallow.
Damn it.
Rodrom grasped the piece of shrapnel and pulled it from the wound. A gush of dark blood accompanied the movement. Working as swiftly as he could, he jammed his naked fingers into the wound, pushing the lung tissue inside away from the hole, and allowing air to escape as he worked his fingers back and forth. Almost immediately, the wolf-guard’s breathing improved, and a whimper escaped between ragged breaths. He stared up at Rodrom.

"Sorry. The jewelry clashed with your coat" Rodrom muttered as the air escaped, feeling some of his own anxiety bleed out with the quip.

The danger of the wolf-guard asphyxiating momentarily abated, and his own nausea and dizziness swept away by the adrenaline coursing through him, Rodrom was finally able to think clearly. They couldn't stay where they were, as the rounds had already found their mark. And no other elves were within shouting range, not over the din of battle. Rodrom rolled his shoulders, the decision made before he had time to reconsider.

He tore off a piece of the rags he wore, and using nearby stick as a windlass, he created an improvised tourniquet. He tied the whole thing around the wolf-guard’s upper arm, and as he twisted it tight, the creature yipped in pain and snapped his teeth. Rodrom shifted and maneuvered his knee between himself and the animal’s neck, preventing unwanted bites, and continued to work.

Any hemorrhage was effectively ceased by the compression. Rodrom took hold of the shrapnel and pulled it fully out of the creature’s flesh. The moment it moved, the wolf-guard yipped a final time and lay silent and unconscious. Rodrom tossed the metal aside, and after scanning his surroundings a final time, he reached under the beast and pushed most of its bulk onto its right shoulder, twisting his own body to gain leverage against the animal’s near hundred-kilo bulk.

Rodrom had spent most of his time in a lab or surgery ward, and his time in captivity had not helped strengthen the muscles he had, but adrenaline and six and a half feet of stubbornness allowed him to lift the creature up and across his back. Grunting, he pushed up from his knees to take his feet.

He wouldn’t be able to support the weight for long, so he took off at a lumbering gait, trying to find enough balance in his barely controlled forward momentum to keep going. He headed back in the direction he thought the healers would be, putting his back to the sharp retorts of rifles, and the gut-clenching concussion of falling mortars. His ears deafened to anything but his own heartbeat and the coarse bellow of his struggling lungs. With each stumbling step, he grew more sluggish, his blood thundering in his ears as it tried in vain to fuel his straining body.

Rodrom made it almost a hundred meters before he spotted another elf running towards him. Relief flooded him immediately and he collapsed in a heap to the ground to lay pressed between the warm mass of slow-breathing fur above, and blood-stained mud below. He gasped for air; he had pushed himself too hard. As darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, he looked down at his arms. Blue blood oozed from his numerous cuts, mixing with the red blood of the wolf-guard above him.

Damn,
he thought.
He's more human than me.

Interlude 2