Interlude: Korremarvas of the Guthnar (Patreon)

The day Korremarvas had Space-qualified had been a proud day for his family. Lieutenant Azavidas had personally pinned the Space wings on his uniform, and he’d stood attentively through a speech by the honoured Scion Vasilthormenias himself.

He remembered the Edgelord’s words.

The Guthnar do not retreat, because the Guthnar will prevail.

Hold fast your courage, and no foe in the universe can overcome you.

Well, he’d held on to his courage. And now, Vasilthormenias was dead, Clanlord Daemoras was dead, Bahurnivaras was presumed dead, Levasikarthemas hadn’t been heard from since the Walking Fortress had – unexpectedly – self-destructed, and they were buried hundreds of feet under the earth.

Pressed in from both sides by humans.

The same humans who, Azavidas had once told him, were no more dangerous than pebbles.

He wondered how the battle had managed to go so wrong. The basic strategy had been sound – bombard the enemy from above, then drop a dozen divisions to sweep and purge the survivors on the ground. Even when the battleship had unexpectedly been downed, two million Space-qualified Raptors should have been able to sweep the armies of the humans aside with ease.

If they’d had the chance to properly deploy.

Right since that screwup on the battleship, the humans had been ahead of them. Every Archon-damned second. When they tried to deploy scout battalions and secure a foothold, the humans slaughtered the scouts. When the Clanlord had personally challenged their champion – a mech of surprising size – he’d been killed. As had Vasilthormenias, his chosen successor.

Bahurnivaras had been next in line as Clanlord, and Levasikarthemas – as his Scion – had taken charge of the remaining Raptor forces. Fortified their position while their allies repaired the ship and the entire component of Grizzeloid Stealth Tanks was put in the field.

Any one of those tanks should have been more than a match for the human mech. And yet, they’d been destroyed.

When the Puppetmaster, Bloodsword, had deployed his Citadel to suppress the humans, Korremarvas had cheered. At least those stupid hairy beasts would get what was coming to them. Even if Puppetmasters freaked him out (as they would any sane person).

Instead, the humans had somehow toppled the Citadel, and Bloodsword had vanished. Rumours swirled that he’d made his escape offworld somehow. Puppetmaster escape capsules had built-in masking fields, after all.

Even then, the Raptors had not despaired, but continued deploying. After all, the Xeranai had given them a war machine capable of laying waste to entire continents, and honoured Levasikarthemas as its pilot.

They’d successfully suckered the humans into a trap and destroyed the mech that killed the Clanlord. Levaiskarthemas had earned revenge for his grandfather.

And then, that Archon-damned fireweaver had shown up.

Its attacks had turned the deployment area into a deathtrap. Korremarvas had heard stories of the defeat of the Carnotaur-led expedition six months ago – stories of soldiers being burnt alive, unable to even scream for want of air.

He’d been lucky to be on-ramp when the platoon was deploying. The units ahead of him had been turned into so much ash by the human attack, and the hurricane of flame had cost Azavidas his life.

The only saving grace – the only reason that panic hadn’t spread through the ranks – was the knowledge that Levasikarthemas was fighting to defend them from the pyromaniac, while Bahurnivaras had set up a secondary staging area.

It had come as a shock to them all that Bahurnivaras was on the human world. The younger Scion of Daemoras had always been known as a scholar and an artist, rather than a warrior. Compared to his brother Vasilthormenias, first among the Edgelords, Bahurnivaras was more scholarly. Even Levasikarthemas, his adolescent son, was more renowned as a warrior.

Knowing that he’d been on the human homeworld, securing a base for the Guthnar, had suddenly shown the Scion in a new light. It took far more courage to succeed as a covert agent than as a frontline combatant.

Even though the Clanlord was gone, a new Clanlord – a brave one – had survived; his son led from the front and he built a safe base for the survivors to operate from.

That thought had kept Korremarvas going, even as he took command of the company of soldiers that had once been Lieutenant Azavidas’. A promotion he’d not wanted, nor asked for.

When the orders had come to redeploy for the new base, Korremarvas hadn’t hesitated. Even if what they were doing was a polite word for retreat.

Midway through the evacuation, word had come that Looks Gently Upon Blossoming Flowers had been killed. In his own chambers.

His highly secured chambers.

Where even Clanlord Daemoras tread softly.

The idea that someone could kill a fully armoured Xeranai in the midst of its command chambers was even more terrifying than the fall of a Clanlord.

And then the word had come to them, that Levasikarthemas was dead.

That the Walking Fortress had been deactivated. That a killswitch was installed, and their Scion had been terminated in mid-battle.

Only a Xeranai could install or activate a killswitch.

Rumours had flown thick and fast, even as their unit had deployed to the new area, overrunning the limited human forces here and setting up a shield.

In a few days, they’d have set up enough additional defenses to make a human assault suicidal. Living in a secured, self-contained firebase amidst enemy territory wouldn’t have been ideal, but they didn’t join the military for the comfortable jobs, no my lord. They’d have been able to hold out until the Hierarchy finally overcame this world, the valiant Guthnar fortress that had served for years amidst enemy territory.

But.

The damned humans had taken down the shield the same day.

Bahurnivaras had pulled back the majority of Raptor forces into the tunnel complex, seeking to fight a defensive action. The tunnel diggers had been put together by a Gellatoid team on Earth, including a geothermal tap that could provide the power for a regiment or two.

When they’d been forced into the tunnel complex, it had been a mad scramble to secure the entrances and simultaneously provide enough power to support the needs of hundreds of regiments.

Bahurnivaras – the scholar – had personally taken on the challenge of upgrading the reactor’s capacity in hours, and ordered the Raptors to hold off the humans. Delay them, buy time with lives, but buy enough to ensure the geothermal tap could resupply all of the Raptor forces. In theory, that would have enabled multiple layers of shields, interlocking fields of fire, and more than a few companies of troops to be deployed at a time.

Unfortunately…

In less than a day, they’d lost the geothermal tap as well.

And now, the rest of the Lieutenants and Captains were arguing about what to do.

Scrunching up his face, Korremarvas walked into the room where Captain Urkathewas and Captain Zyklovas were in the middle of a full-blown screaming match.

“If we reroute power from the medbay,” roared Urkathewas, “our soldiers will die!”

“And what would you suggest we do?” Zyklovas yelled back. “Weapons are running dry at the front. Three, four companies can deploy at any time, instead of thirty. The humans are advancing, and we don’t have enough live weapons to stop them!”

“Cut the food supplies instead! Or the lights! Anything else!”

“None of those options will be enough,” rasped Lieutenant Selzeimaravas, his throat still raw from inhaling toxic fumes. “Right now they hardly draw any power. Only the medbays – the surgical robots, the field X-ray systems, the woundheal machines – draw a significant amount. Enough to allow us to field three more companies – while the food services sections could maybe power a dozen extra rifles, at most.”

Urkathewas slumped. “I cannot sacrifice our wounded. They don’t deserve to die like this.”

“If the humans break through, they’re dead anyway.” Zyklovas looked exhausted himself. “We’ll reroute the power and hope it’s enough… Ah, Korremarvas. Tell us about the new incursion.”

“We have a company’s strength of troops guarding against it,” Korremarvas responded. “Though if they send in some of their stronger empowered it won’t hold.”

“Any word from the Honour Guard?”

“None. I fear they may have been wiped out.”

Selzeimaravas grunted. “Empowered strong enough to wipe out fifty Honour Guard won’t be fazed by a single company.”

“There is still a chance. The Clanlord’s gifts have not passed yet – Bahurnivaras might yet be alive.”

“Levasikarthemas would have received them if he were alive…” An expression akin to fear passed across Urkathewas’ face. “I am possibly growing old, but who is Levasikarthemas’ successor?”

Selzeimaravas frowned. “He doesn’t have any offspring yet, unless he’s been dallying with someone privately … Bahurnivaras’ other offspring are females and can’t inherit. Vasilthormenias was to wed in the fall…”

“… and Clanlord Daemoras was the only surviving child of his father,” finished Zyklovas. “Which brings up a question – if Clanlord Bahurnivaras were to fall here, who would be the next Clanlord?”

“The Guthnar have always had a Clanlord,” Korremarvas spoke almost reflexively, “and the Clanlord has always borne the gifts of the Clan, passed down through the line of the Clanlords.”

“He must be able to wield the Delta Star Blade, too,” added Selzeimaravas.

“That could be a problem. I heard that Primary Scion Vasilthormenias bore the Delta Star Blade into battle….”

“Wait, if that’s the case, then where is it?”

“The Honour Guard would know – or the Clanlord ….”

Korremarvas winced. “The Blade or the powers and descent from a Clanlord. But we don’t have any males in the line of inheritance who are closer than…” History lessons, long since forgotten or ignored, came back to him. “Maybe the offspring of Clanlord Jorkenthrawas – he was the last who had multiple sons…”

A moment of silence passed around the table. Jorkenthrawas had ruled the Guthnar well – two centuries ago.

His youngest offspring – the one who had been too young to pose a threat to the next Clanlord – had been allowed to survive.

Korremarvas couldn’t recall who the current successor from Jorkenthrawas’ line was. Nor, from the look of things, could anyone else around the table.

Which meant that if Bahurnivaras had indeed fallen, the next Clanlord might be someone the vast majority of the Guthnar had never even heard of.

And unless they could wield the Delta Star Blade, their legitimacy and fitness would always be questioned.

So – for the sake of the Guthnar – they had to get their Clanlord out of here. Preferably with the Delta Star blade.

And if the Clanlord had indeed fallen, they needed to find the Blade.

“Let’s send some of our trusted men to canvass the troops,” Zyklovas suggested. “Find out who saw Vasilthormenias fall. Maybe he dropped the Blade and one of our men picked it up.”

Selzeimaravas snorted. “A Space-qualified Raptor Guardsman who doesn’t recognize the Delta Star Blade but just happens to be able to wield it? What are the chances of that?”

“The alternative is that Vasilthormenias lost the blade and it now lies in the possession of the humans. You know the consequences of that.”

The words hung unspoken across the table.

If the line of Daemoras had indeed lost the Blade – an artifact that traced its heritage back to the Age of Heroes – then their right to rule itself might be called into question.

Clan politics were bloody enough in normal years. Without a clear candidate for Clanlord and with the Blade lost…

Civil war was not out of the question.

Urkathewas shook his head. “Those are questions we can look into afterwards. Right now, we have to survive the next few days. Retake the geothermal tap, somehow, and secure ourselves against a human advance. After that, we’ll work out what to do about the Blade. And if we’re fortunate, the Clanlord survived and is in hiding until he can break free.”

“I agree,” Zyklovas said. “We’ll reroute the power for now. In the meantime, let’s see if we can put together a strike force to retake the lower chamber.”

A rumble echoed through the tunnels.

Korremarvas’ communicator chimed, demanding his attention. Pressing the button that routed the audio to his earpiece, he spoke. “What’s going on?”

“Lieutenant,” the voice of his deputy, Mevedias, was shaking. “Holes just opened up in the walls. There are humans flooding through.”

Korremarvas’ eyes widened. “Where?”

“Second chamber. Fifth chamber. Eighth chamber. The big armoured ones are leading it, and they’re killing everyone. Send help….”

Korremarvas swore, turning to the others. “The humans have broken into the food storage area. I need reinforcements…” He trailed off in horror.

Every one of the others had their communicators out, in exactly the same way.

Urkathewas was ashen. “They broke through to the medical area. Cut them off from the rest – half the life support machines are down.”

“Another force has penetrated two of our weapons storage zones,” mumbled Zyklovas. “Explosives used. The armories are – gone.”

“Secondary staging areas have been cut off,” Selzeimaravas added. “There are attacks across the entire length of the tunnels…” He pressed a button, bringing a hologram to life. “I’m marking the areas where we have reports of penetrations.”

The holographic map of the tunnel looked like a line of pebbles with a string running through their centre. Seven hundred thousand surviving Raptor soldiers had been squeezed into that area, large caverns separated by thinner connecting tunnels. The idea had been that, if the humans took an upper cavern, the Raptors could defend the lower cavern with a handful of troops as the enemy were forced through a chokepoint.

With enough power, shield towers would have been able to protect each cavern entrance, and more shield towers would have stabilized the walls against a cave-in. Or enemies digging through.

With enough power.

Now, less than a day after they’d arrived, the enemy had dug tunnels through the walls.

And not just at one place. The hologram marked off in red the points where the humans were reported to have penetrated.

Korremarvas could see at least fifty. Maybe more.

“They’re securing the connecting tunnels,” rasped Selzeimaravas. “Cutting off our units from each other. From resupply.” He glanced around the table. “We need a way to strike back, or every last Raptor will be wiped out. Does anyone have any ideas?”

The silence stretched across the table, unbroken.