Chapter 8: Coalition

The two teams met up further down the street, Miqi appearing from a side alley with a group of survivors in tow, Bluejay flitting above their heads. They looked a little shaken from their experience but none the worse for wear.

“What the hell happened to you, big guy?” Bluejay asked as he rushed to Gustave’s side.

“Kept circle safe,” Gustave rumbled. He seemed weaker than usual, but he was still conscious and mobile. Xipa knew nothing of Krell’nay physiology save for the fact that they were uncommonly durable, and as much blood as he seemed to have lost, someone of his size probably had a lot of it.

“You should see the other guy,” Fletcher added.

“We have to move quickly,” Miqi said, turning to look back at the mushroom cloud some half kilometer behind them. “We might have slowed the insects, but they will not be stopped so easily.”

A pair of loud cracks distracted them – the report of an aircraft breaking the sound barrier. Xipa looked to the sky, seeing a pair of objects heading their way. As they drew closer, she recognized their shape, along with the flashing color panels that ran down their noses. These were two of the dropships that she had called in from the Vengeance. Unlike UNN dropships, these were spaceplanes, holdovers from before first contact when her people had relied on less efficient engines to get them to and from orbit. While upgraded and retrofitted, these models still sported that same delta-wing design, the bottoms of their twenty-meter-long hulls covered with blackened heat tiles. They were camouflaged in the traditional Navy blue and grey, the panels on their rounded noses flashing warning lights as they descended towards the street. Flames belched from thrusters along their bellies as they slowed to a hover, one of the doors on the near side of the lead vehicle sliding open to reveal a gunner wielding a cannon that was mounted on a flexible gimbal. She began to fire over their heads at the Bugs in the distance, sending a stream of tungsten slugs downrange, the coils on her barrel starting to glow red-hot.

The first held position maybe thirty meters off the ground as the second dropship extended its wheeled landing gear, touching down in the middle of the road. The troop ramp at the rear descended, a squad of twenty-four Commandos piling out onto the asphalt, quickly securing the perimeter. Xipa heard the sound of an engine, distinct from the roaring of the thrusters, watching as a pair of Gue’tra light scout vehicles drove down the ramp. They made their way over to the team, their suspension bouncing on the pocked road, skidding to a halt nearby.

A trio of helmeted figures hopped down from the passenger bed of one of the little trucks, flashing their suit panels in a crimson salute.

“Ensi,” one of them began, popping open her visor to reveal her scaly face. “We came as soon as we could. Looks like we missed the fight,” she added, glancing at the mushroom cloud that was casting a shadow over the city.

“Commander Tela, I’m glad to see you,” Xipa replied with a flutter of relief. Tela’xol’vati was a member of one of the highest-ranked flocks in the Valbaran military – a veteran of the Battle of Valbara. She was one of the people who Xipa had hand-picked to make up her personal guard aboard the Vengeance. If she could ever convince the Consensus, Tela’s flock would also head the creation of Valbara’s first special forces unit. She couldn’t have hoped for anyone more capable.

“You weren’t lying,” Miqi said, sidling up beside Xipa to appraise the newcomers. “You really do have an army at your back.”

“How is the evacuation progressing?” Xipa asked.

“UNN dropships and landers have begun to set down in the old spaceport,” Tela replied. “We’re lending a hand where we can, but we don’t have the number of ships that they do. There are a lot of civilians filtering in, and we’re just trying to get them inside a secure perimeter right now before we start lifting them off the ground.”

“Good,” Xipa sighed, giving her a relieved flash of green from her suit panels. “I have a new assignment for you, Tela. I want one of your Commando teams to escort this flock of survivors to their next objective and make sure that they arrive at the spaceport safe and sound. They have one more explosive left to arm. They know what they’re doing, so just follow them and keep them alive.”

“Yes, Ensi,” Tela replied with a salute of red. “I will see to it personally.”

“My team and I will take the empty dropship back to the spaceport, where I will help to oversee the evacuation. Several Bug armies are making inroads into the city, and while we’ve been able to delay and distract them, they will reach the spaceport eventually. We need to get as many people off the ground as possible before that happens.”

“The Bugs won’t touch a feather on their heads,” Tela said with a determined pulse of crimson. She called to her people, relaying Xipa’s instructions, organizing everyone into their flocks. The hovering dropship began to descend, the Gue’tra transports driving out of its way as its engines kicked up dust.

“Looks like we’re flying back,” Xipa added, turning to her companions. “Miqi, you should come with us. The flock will be in very capable hands.”

“I think we’ve done all we can here,” she replied with an affirmative flutter. “The rest of my people need me. Is the big one going to fit in one of those ships?” she asked, gesturing to Gustave with a feather sheath.

“He can’t weigh any more than a tankette,” Xipa replied with a shrug.

The squad of survivors that they had rescued split off from the rest of the group, heading over to where Tela was waiting beside a row of transports. The vehicles would hopefully buy them a little more time – they were small and nimble enough to make it through the streets.

Xipa and Miqi led their teams into the idling dropship, climbing up the ramp and into the troop bay. The twenty-meter-long craft could seat twenty-four Commandos and carry up to four vehicles that were secured in the aisle between the crash couches. It was spacious by Valbara’nay standards, but Fletcher and Gustave had to duck to avoid hitting their heads on the ceiling. Unlike UNN dropships, these were not designed with Coalition troops in mind. Miqi and her flock sat down, figuring out the harnesses after a few moments of fumbling, Bluejay doing the same. Fletcher had to grip a handhold on the ceiling, as the seats were too small for him, while Gustave stretched out in the space usually occupied by the tanks. He seemed weakened by his blood loss, but he stubbornly remained conscious.

As the vessels rose off the ground, Miqi peered out of one of the small portholes, Xipa joining her as they watched the ruined city pass by beneath them.

“That’s my home,” Miqi mused, pressing her snout against the glass. Her flock did the same, watching the strange scene, their feathers fluttering with awe. “I’ve ... never seen it from the air like this. The closest thing was when I climbed that tower...”

“You’ll get to see Kerguela from space soon,” Xipa replied. “It’s spectacular.”

“My feet won’t leave the ground until every last one of my people is on those ships,” she replied.

“First in, last out, as the Earth’nay say,” Xipa chuckled. “I can respect that.”

The city was a warzone, half a dozen towering pillars of smoke rising above the jagged skyline. From such a height, Xipa could make out a few of the Bug columns in the distance, like red tendrils that were probing the streets for weaknesses. Time was shorter than she had anticipated. Even with one more line of explosive boobytraps awaiting the Bugs, they were relentless, overcoming the obstacles that were put in front of them with alarming efficiency. It reminded her of the social insects that she used to play with in her flock’s garden as a child – how she would place pebbles in their path, then marvel at their ability to find a way around them. It was impressive behavior for such tiny, simple creatures, but it was a terrifying quality in the Betelgeusians.

She couldn’t see the spaceport ahead of them until they began to circle around it, as the cockpit was isolated from the troop bay. She felt a stab of apprehension in her belly as the all-too-familiar sight came into view. The long runways, the shuttle hangars, the wall that surrounded the complex – it was identical to the spaceport where she had staged her final stand. Instead of massive spaceplanes, the runways now played host to alien vessels. There were a dozen UNN dropships that she could see, Marines and auxiliaries piling out of their open troop ramps. There were large, bulky landers that were carrying vehicles, Kodiak tanks and Puma IFVs sliding out of their bays on trolleys. Six artillery pieces had already taken up position over in one corner of the spaceport, their long railgun barrels aimed into the sky, ready to rain death on anything that drew their ire. She could see a few Valbara’nay dropships among the rest, easily identifiable due to their more conventional shape and their blue camo. There must have been two or three hundred troops already on the ground, moving to secure the perimeter wall. More ships were coming down, belching plumes of flame as they aimed for empty landing spots.

It seemed that the survivors were just starting to arrive, a column of refugees flanked by armed guards slowly making their way across rolling hills that had once hidden the airport from view, now overgrown with stray trees and native weeds. Valbara’nay weren’t very fast on their feet, especially over large distances, and there were a lot of children and elderly people slowing them down. Many of the fighting-aged survivors were operating in the city, so there were a little less than a thousand of them here, but it was still a great many people to handle at once. The first flocks were just starting to arrive at the main entrance to the port, Marines and Commandos waving them inside.

“Nice to see the boys in blue,” Fletcher said, peering over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Xipa, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“It’s going to come down to the wire,” Xipa replied, shaking her head. “That’s a lot of people to filter through a very small gate. Most would usually arrive via maglev terminal – that entrance was never intended to handle so many at once. Worse, the ships can’t land outside the port, not with all of those trees and hills. Curse our compulsion to make everything look pretty,” she hissed.

“We’ll manage,” Fletcher insisted, but she couldn’t shake that sinking feeling.

The pilot brought their dropship down to the end of one of the runways, everyone piling out, the backwash from the engines whipping at their clothes.

“Last time we did this, we set up a temporary command station in one of the hangars,” Xipa said as her sheaths waved in the wind. “We should probably head down there.”

“Last time?” Fletcher asked, jogging along beside her.

“This is pretty much exactly what the evacuation of Kerguela looked like,” she replied. “I’m hoping this do-over is going to go a little more smoothly.”

They made their way down the long runway, weaving between parked dropships and idling tanks, Xipa wearing herself out. As exhausted as she was, she didn’t want to be carried by the aliens in the presence of the people she was supposed to be commanding. It was a bad look.

As she had expected, they arrived at one of the old hangars to find a group of people standing around a portable projector, examining a hologram of the city. They were cast in the shadow of an old Valbara’nay shuttle, a massive spaceplane that was a relic of another time, its belly pocked with holes created by heat tiles that must have fallen off over the decades.

The three Ensis were there, along with a couple of guards and a flock from Xipa’s fleet. They were speaking with an Earth’nay whose camouflaged pressure suit was decorated with ribbons and badges that denoted his high rank, aided by an interpreter. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, exposing his weathered face, his hair and short beard streaked with silver in a way that Xipa understood denoted age in his kind.

“Miqi, Ensi,” the scarred Ensi said as she turned to greet them. “I’m glad to see that you’re still alive. I have to say – we were skeptical about the support that you promised us, but you have been true to your word.”

“Likewise,” Xipa replied, pausing to catch her breath. “How is the evacuation progressing?”

“Behind schedule,” the Ensi replied. “We need to hurry.”

“You must be Lieutenant Commander Fletcher,” the Earth’nay began. “My name is Colonel Marek. I command the Marine regiments stationed aboard the Wizna. Admiral Vos has put me in charge of overseeing the evacuation. Ensi,” he added, nodding to Xipa. “I have orders to defer to you two.”

“How many ships do you have, Colonel?” Fletcher asked as he made his way over to inspect the hologram.

“Less than we need,” he replied, gesturing to the little red dots that were displayed on the shimmering image. Each one was numbered, denoting different vessels, another wave of them descending from the sky as they watched. “It’s going to take us a few trips. We’ve decided to carry some of the refugees back to the assault carrier in the empty landers. It’s a temporary measure, but it should allow us to speed up the process a little. It means that our troops will have to remain on the ground until there are ships available to recover them, but we can hold this port.”

“Good thinking,” Fletcher said. “We have Valbaran saboteurs still operating in the field. If I can give you their radio frequencies, and if you can get your hands on some interpreters, they’d appreciate some support. Those Avalanches will do a lot of good if they can help slow the Bugs down. If you can spare any dropships to extract them when they’re done setting their charges, even better.”

“I suppose they’re responsible for the explosions we’ve been seeing?” Marek asked. “Resourceful little creatures.”

“Gustave!” Fletcher exclaimed, turning to see the giant reptile standing behind him. He was drenched in azure blood, droplets of it falling to the ground beneath him. “What the hell are you still doing standing around? Go find a medic – you’ve done enough.”

“Circle is not yet safe,” he replied stubbornly, but Fletcher wasn’t having any of it.

“Go get fixed up. That’s an order.”

“I’ll have my people take care of him,” Marek added, pausing to make the call. “That Krell looks like minced beef – I don’t know what you put him through.”

“He won a fight with a Warrior, to make a long story short,” Fletcher replied. “I’ll send you the video when this is all over.”

Two Marines wearing white shoulder pads that identified them as medics entered the hangar, guiding the reluctant Krell outside, where they were operating a temporary treatment center out of a medivac shuttle. They sat him down at the top of the ramp, the shuttle’s landing gear visibly sagging under his weight, then started to take off his tattered poncho. His scaly underside was crisscrossed with cuts and stab wounds, yellow fat visible through the blue blood in places, the sight of it sending a flutter of purple through Xipa’s feathers. The medics began to treat the wounds with antiseptic foam and adhesive pads that could constrict to help keep the cuts closed, one of the men leaning away in alarm as Gustave expressed his displeasure through an intimidating rumble.

“How can we help, Colonel?” Bluejay asked.

“There are two bottlenecks in our operation right now,” Marek replied, glancing at the Jarilan’s missing lower arm before turning his attention back to the map. “The first is getting those refugees inside the compound, and the second is getting them off the ground. We’re already running at full capacity, so there’s not much more that we can do other than try to buy ourselves more time.”

“That old gate was never intended to process so many people at once,” Xipa explained, gesturing to the wavering hologram. “When it was functioning, passengers would arrive primarily by rail or road. The spaceport is easily defensible, but that won’t help us if everyone is outside when the Bugs catch up with us. I suggest making some new holes in the wall – maybe one or two here, and here. It isn’t reinforced, so you could probably just drive one of your tanks straight through.”

“We should move some teams outside the wall to create a secure perimeter around the caravan,” Fletcher added, outlining a circle on the map with a prosthetic finger. “We need a buffer between the refugees and the Bugs, just in case.”

“Do you think they could cover that much ground so quickly?” the colonel asked, raising a bushy eyebrow skeptically.

“Better safe than sorry,” Fletcher replied with a shrug.

“I’ll see that it gets done,” Marek replied with a nod. “You two have been down here for days, as I understand it, and you know the lay of the land. Do you need a weapon, Lieutenant?” he added as he glanced at Fletcher’s laser rifle.

“This old thing has been serving me just fine, thanks,” Fletcher replied as he tapped the blocky housing of the gun.

“We’re sending up spotter drones up to keep tabs on the Bug convoys and to direct artillery fire,” Marek added as he turned his attention back to the map. “Once we get in touch with those saboteurs, we can start shelling. It should help hold the enemy up a while longer.”

“Those flocks will be on their way back here pretty soon,” Fletcher said. “We need to hold this position until everyone is accounted for. As the Ensi suggested, if you can get out there and give them a lift, that’ll expedite the process. I have a man still out in the field, too. Maybe you can locate his IFF tag.”

“We’re short on aircraft, but I’ll see what I can do,” the colonel replied.

“I think the best place for us is outside the wall, helping those refugees get to the gate,” Xipa suggested. “There are a lot of flocks with young children, a lot of elderly people. I need a team of Commandos,” she continued, turning to one of the pressure suit-clad Valbara’nay nearby. The woman flashed her a salute, then hurried out of the hangar.

“My flock and I are going with you,” Miqi added after a brief translation. “These are our kin, and we’re not leaving until they’re all safe. Ensis,” she continued, bowing her head in the direction of her three elders. “You should help keep the people calm and organized. I know that everyone will feel safer if they can see that you’re overseeing the evacuation.”

“We will keep the peace,” the scarred Ensi replied. “This is a scary situation for everyone, and a panic could be lethal.”

“If you have any Marines to spare, I’d appreciate the help,” Fletcher added as he turned to the colonel.

“I can assign you a squad,” Marek replied with a nod. “Just contact me if you need anything else, and I’ll get it to you if I’m able.”

Fletcher tilted his helmet appreciatively, then headed out of the hangar, Xipa and Bluejay flanking him as Miqi’s flock followed behind.

“This is it,” he said, checking the charge on his laser rifle as he led them past the rows of idling dropships. “Everything we’ve worked for, the reason we came down here. All we have to do now is keep these people safe until Marek can get them into orbit.”

There was a loud crack above their heads as another trio of landers burned through the atmosphere above the port, their four downward-facing engines flaring as they decelerated. Tanks and IFVs were driving back and forth, unloading from their landers, organizing into units on the runways. There were people everywhere, Marines and Commandos moving in tight formation, carrying supplies and weapons between them.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Miqi muttered, watching a seventy-ton tank roll past. “That thing is the size of a dwelling. Maybe we really do have a chance.”

A squad of twelve armored Marines ran over to them, their leader stopping to salute Fletcher.

“Lieutenant Commander,” the man began, his face inscrutable behind his opaque visor. “Sergeant Nowak, reporting. Colonel Marek has assigned us to your team.”

“Good, Sergeant,” Fletcher replied. “Fall in. We’re going to be doing some humanitarian work.”

“Sir!” he barked with another salute, ordering his men to follow behind them.

As they made their way between the dropships, the main gate came into view. Xipa felt her guts tie into a knot at the sight of it, her perfect recall bringing her right back to the fall of the colony, to the desperate last stand against the overwhelming insect hordes. It was still fresh in her mind, scarring her memories just as her burns disfigured her face. This time, it was going to be different. This time, they were going to save everyone.

“Nimi, Chala, Noyo ... are you watching?” she whispered into her helmet.

The first wave of refugees was already arriving, exhausted fathers clutching their children tightly as they filtered through the opening, flocks carrying all of their worldly possessions on their backs being directed to waiting dropships by waving Marines. The UNN were wasting no time, hurrying the civilians directly into the bays of the nearest vessels, showing them how to strap into the oversized seats. Commandos were hovering nearby, helping to interpret, reassuring the bewildered refugees that they were in safe hands. They seemed to be prioritizing fathers and children, corralling the rest into smaller groups to await assignment to other vessels. It was already becoming a bit of a logistical nightmare. Flocks were being split apart, flutters of sorrowful blue and worried purple dominating the scene as families said tearful goodbyes, not knowing if or when they might see their loved ones again.

Xipa watched a flock of four women fawn over their spouse and a pair of young children as a Marine and a Commando did their best to hurry them along, struggling to find a balance between respect and urgency. They brushed their snouts together in hurried, desperate shows of affection, trying to reassure the crying children in spite of the telltale purple in their feathers. Eventually, they were pried apart, the forlorn women watching as their husband was led up a ramp into one of the dropships.

“Will they be reunited in space?” Miqi asked, turning her head to watch the scene as they passed by.

“They’ll probably be sent to different ships – whichever ones can accommodate them,” Xipa replied. “I’ll see to it that all of the flocks are reunited once they’re safe. You have my word.”

The Marines at the entrance were holding one of the slatted gates open, funneling the caravan through the other. It further limited the flow of civilians, but it ensured that personnel could still get in and out of the port without getting stuck in a bottleneck. As Fletcher made his way over to the exit, a flock of Commandos intercepted them, the six women giving Xipa a red salute.

“Ensi, we have orders to accompany you.”

“Follow us,” she replied. “We need to protect these people while they get inside the port.”

“Bluejay, we could use a bird’s-eye view of the situation,” Fletcher added with a nod to the Jarilan. “I want to see exactly what we’re dealing with here.”

“You got it,” he said, opening his wing cases. He flitted up into the air, heading over the wall, a few of the nearby Marines pausing to watch him. Xipa tapped into his feed, seeing the overgrown hills from his point of view as he soared above them, patches of autumn forest peppering the landscape. The caravan stretched off into the distance, three or four people wide in places, meandering through the rough terrain. This place had been abandoned to nature decades prior, and the dense underbrush wasn’t doing them any favors.

“So far, so good,” Fletcher mused. “None of them are panicking, nobody is being left behind. I’ve seen crowds more unruly than this at department store sales.”

“That might not last if the Bugs catch up to us,” Xipa replied. “Maintaining calm is going to be very important, or we risk ending up with a stampede on our hands.”

They made their way through the narrow exit, heading out into the hills, the off-white wall looming behind them. The refugees glanced up at them as they passed by, recognition sparking in a few of their faces, the sight of Miqi visibly reassuring them. They looked ready to drop. Valbara’nay weren’t designed for cross-country hikes like this – they didn’t have the stamina for it.

There was a loud crashing sound that startled a few of the nearby civilians, a baby that couldn’t have been more than a week out of the incubator burying its face in its father’s coat. Xipa spun around just in time to see a tank plow through the wall maybe twenty meters to the right of the entrance, chunks of shattered carbcrete bouncing off its sloped hull, the structure collapsing around it. The vehicle had an impressive plow mounted at the front, its tracks digging into the ground for traction as it pushed the debris aside. It drove out of the way as more tanks and troop carriers filed through the breach behind it, the vehicles spreading out into the sparse forest. A squad of Commandos in camouflaged pressure suits followed after them, calling to the refugees, guiding them over to the new opening. Some of them began to split off from the main caravan, forming a second line.

“Looks like Marek is taking your advice,” Fletcher said. “Alright, Marines! Let’s head to the back of the line and help those stragglers catch up.”

An explosion suddenly shook the ground, a deafening boom lagging a few seconds behind it, the team stopping in their tracks. Cries of alarm emanated from the caravan, a few parents sweeping their children off the grass, bundling them up protectively in a bid to comfort them. Xipa looked to the horizon, seeing a mushroom cloud rising above the jagged skyscrapers. There was another blast, then another, the branches of the nearby trees swaying as the shockwave reached them. It was greatly diminished by distance, but Xipa could still feel it resonate in her hollow bones.

“It’s no cause for concern!” she yelled, the speakers on her helmet amplifying her voice as she attempted to reassure the refugees. “Those are Miqi’s bombs – they’re blocking the path of the insects.”

The group hurried towards the back of the long line, passing hundreds of exhausted Valbara’nay as they went. Even for the Earth’nay, the terrain made it hard going, the Marines wading through waist-high undergrowth and sliding on grassy hills. The city was always visible on the horizon, the skyscrapers standing stark and white against the aurora-choked sky.

Finally, they reached the end of the caravan, where they found a handful of flocks lagging behind the main group. There were a couple of pregnant women, some elderly people who couldn’t keep up, and some people with injuries that weren’t serious enough to warrant a medivac. A group of the younger and healthier refugees were helping them along, and some of the armed guards had held back to protect them, but they were just too slow to keep up. It seemed that all of the children had been moved to the front of the caravan, but they could be carried by the adults with relative ease.

“Alright, start moving the old-timers,” Fletcher ordered. The Marines let their weapons hang from their slings, lifting the elderly Valbara’nay off the ground, Xipa giving the confused civilians hurried explanations. “Grab that one with the bad leg, too. Xipa, what are we doing about the pregnant ones?”

“We’ll help them along,” she replied, walking over to a woman with a swollen belly who was being guided by her flock. She gestured to one of the Commandos, and the pair supported the expectant mother beneath the arms, helping her through the rough underbrush. “I don’t want to risk them falling.”

“Come on, elders!” Miqi barked, her flock following behind her as she took an old man by the hand. “You survived one invasion, and so help me, you’ll survive a second!”

“I wish we could get an IFV through here, maybe land a shuttle,” Fletcher grunted as he hefted an old woman with faded feathers off the grass. “The forest is way too dense, and these hills are a nightmare to navigate.”

“Our Gue’tra transports might be able to get through,” Xipa suggested, helping her pregnant charge over an exposed root.

“Those little golf carts?” Fletcher asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Let me get in touch with the Commandos at the port and see if they have any to spare.” After a brief call, she gave him a nod. “They’re sending us three. That should be enough to get the most vulnerable civilians to the port quickly.”

“We need to stay with these people until they reach the gate,” Fletcher replied.

“Looks like we’re making good progress,” Bluejay announced, Xipa glancing up to see him hovering high above the canopy. “I’d say maybe twenty percent of the caravan has made it inside the walls. The colonel has made some more holes, and that seems to be helping speed up the process. We’ve got vehicles forming a perimeter outside.”

“I guess we’ll just keep this up until everyone is evacuated,” Fletcher continued. “We find people who are struggling at the back, and we drive them to the front.”

A series of loud bangs echoed across the city, firing off in quick succession. A few moments later, explosions sounded in the distance, a continuous barrage beginning.