Broken Empire: Aftermath

Chapter One

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Fire swallowed the shuttle right behind Captain Timothy Val's, sending bits of twisted metal raining into the Torian atmosphere. The blast was close enough that an impact warning appeared on the visor screen inside his helmet. Timothy switched the warning off and flexed his gloved fingers. He tried to keep from looking through the blue hue of the shuttle's kinetic barrier. Another blast exploded and the barrier turned to static for a second. The metal shuttle plating groaned. The shields will hold until we hit the ground, Timothy thought. They have to. The waiting was always the worst part of war.

Three months ago, the rebels took the capital of Den-Mak and dug their heels in deep. The fifty-first battalion liberated the capital and carved a narrow path into the suburbs but it cost them half their men. Colonel Krail punched a good hole in the rebel line, killed two of their leaders and severed their supply chain. The city of Kalor was the last rebel stronghold on Toria. The rebels had been smart enough to blow every bridge and hijack the planetary defense grid, forcing them to drop in on hostile territory. But isolation was a two-way street. Six weeks in, their food stores had to be running low.

Fire flashed outside and thunder shook their tiny shuttle again. Timothy secured his helmet and stood, grabbing a handhold in the ceiling. The men looked up as he passed. He stopped by Private Malor who was clutching a string of prayer beads. "Put those away," Timothy ordered and shoved the assault rifle back into the private's hands. "You'll do more damage with this."

Malor let the gun fall into his lap, staring at it with red, droopy eyes. "My brother's in Kalor."

Timothy pulled the beads away and forced Malor to hold onto the gun. He gave the kid a firm slap on the shoulder before turning to the rest of his men. His men were seasoned veterans, but they were used to shooting at the Erolyians than their own people. It was easy to justify killing the enemy when he was a foreign invader in a strange uniform. No one ever got used to seeing dead civilians.

"We have our orders," Timothy reminded his men and pointed to the shuttle doors on the far side. "Those doors open, you get your asses off this shuttle ahead of me or rebel fire will be the last of your worries."

Another burst of fire exploded in the sky but the unanimous response drowned out the sound. "Sir, yes, sir!"

The city of Kalor sprang up on the horizon just as they flew out of range of the planetary defense grid. The earth around the city was overturned, a sure sign they'd resorted to burying mines. Five mobile mortar cannons dotted the LZ. Several lines of semi-circular foxholes marked the other side of the minefield.

A loud buzz sounded. Everyone on the transport stood and readied their weapons. As soon as the first man moved forward and off the shuttle, there'd be room to shoulder their rifles and open fire. The shuttle lowered against the booming of mortar shells crashing into the dirt nearby. Dirt sprayed and struck the barrier with a rhythmic clink. Timothy flexed his fingers against the trigger and breathed in and out, focusing on the mission.

Take Kalor. Those were their orders. Fuck the rebel fire and fuck the rebels. That's what Krail had said. Take the city at any cost.

The familiar pre-battle rush of adrenaline pumped through Timothy. He blamed that for the extra tremble in his hands and the sudden elevation in heart rate his battle suit was reading. It wasn't fear. It was excitement. One more chance to go into the sea of stars on his feet instead of lying on his back as his father had. There was honor in that.