Marauders of the Plains

SUMMER, 2199, ORIONIS STEPPES

Arne and Frode looked out over the scene. Many bodies from both sides lay on the grass of the field, now bloodied by battle. It was bodies neither side could afford. 

The native Betorans’ numbers were dwindling because of the Great Plague brought by the settlers had taken many of them. 

For the settlers, the meteor shower had destroyed their ship and communications, cutting them off from space. They were alone. There would be no rescue coming.

“We cannot keep up this fight,” Arne said. “Each time they leave us with few and fewer men.”

“What else can we do?” Frode asked. “All we have known is battle with these curs and their clans to the south. The peace we have had has lasted but a short time and counted for little.”

“Then we must change this. They must listen to our words. The only way that we can survive is not to fight, but to come together. Put aside our differences. Join our peoples as one great clan, not the warring people we have now.”

“They will never listen to such foolishness.”

“They must or they shall die as well. We must come together or die apart. And whatever comes from this merging of our peoples will be. Great Odon has set out this plan before us and we shall follow it to the end.”

SPRING, 2368, THE FRONTIER

Walter Huber sank to his knees. His life was gone. All gone. He had come to Epsilon Pegasi II to get away from violence. He settled down with his family. Years of battle in the Corporate Wars had made him tired. Every night, he dreamed of friends on the battlefield. All of them are dead. All of them calling out to him. Why did he survive when so many did not? What was special about him? He needed to forget. He hoped that this new life would wipe it all away. A wife. A family. A home.

But this was not to happen.

They left him with memories he needed to forget.

“They’ve taken my children!” Huber yelled as the group of horsemen approached. They had seen the smoke and knew what it meant: Marauders. The plains people had become more aggressive as settlers continued to arrive.

“They’ve killed Helen,” Huber said and cried.

The flames were still eating the homestead. Dead animals littered the area full of arrows and deep cuts, nearly hacked to pieces in some cases. And near the Huber’s burning home was Helen Huber. Her clothes smouldered. Two arrows stuck out of her body. Her head was split open.

“God take them,” Captain Dirk Granger said as he rode up, “those sons-a-bitches!”

Granger dismounted. He was a county elder, one of the first to put down roots in the area. Windburned and sunburned, he had leathery skin and a hawk’s stare from all his years on the prairie. There was no nonsense in his posture and his stride. He had rebuilt his farm once after a raid. None of his family lived. Huber had lost everything.

The other men dismounted. They scattered to see what had survived. The raiders killed the adults and took the children. They brought the younger ones into the clan while the older ones became slaves to be used, bartered, and traded. Granger and his hired hand, Cassidy, approached Huber.

“Walter,” Granger said as he walked towards Huber. “Walter, It’s Dirk. I’m so sorry.”

“They killed Helen. They took my kids,” Huber muttered through his tears. “They killed Helen and took my kids.”

Cassidy ran over to Mrs. Huber to put out the flames. He moved the body away from the burning house. Cassidy had a limp from the Civil War but it didn’t slow him down much. He served under Granger in the wars and now on his ranch.

Granger acted slowly. He was conflicted about what to do. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen this kind of horror, but it was never easy. He finally put his hand on Huber’s shoulder. Huber turned his head towards Granger.

“They killed Helen,” he repeated. A mixture of ash and tears was on his face. “They took my children.”

“We’ll get them back,” Granger vowed, “I swear we’ll get them back.”

• • •

The posse dismounted, and the twenty men crept up to the edge of the ridge. A half-mile in front and below them in the lowland was the marauders' encampment. Smoke rose from the campfires. A creek flowed on the far side. The rain started to fall. They could see a string of horses being tended to on one side. It looked as if everyone was home. Bad luck.

“There’s got to be at least forty warriors,” Jack McCullough pointed out to Granger. 

Two-to-one odds. But they were raiders used to attacking women and children. The posse were soldiers, all veterans. Some had even served together. Granger would take his men against such savages any day. Everyone else felt the same.

“Alright,” Granger started, “McCullough, Allison, McCready, Bowes, and Whitney. You ride by hiding along the ridge to the right, cross the creek, and come up from behind on the camp. Find those children and any others if you can. The rest of us will draw them out and distract them as long as we can. Questions?”

Everyone was silent. They understood the orders and the calm before the fight.

“Good. Now we will present ourselves to the enemy in a forward line and ride into those bastards until I signal a turn. Now, mount up.”

Granger knew the key to victory was knowing your enemy. The marauders favoured attacking with The Vetrix Bird. A group would ride up front as The Head, aiming to divide the enemy force. From each side, The Wings would spread out to surround. Behind, The Body would move to support the three. It was the tactic every clan of the Arae Star nation used. It got them in close where their five-foot-tall battle axes could do the most harm. They loved a close-up fight.

The men mounted, and Granger signalled them to move out.

Thorfur High Sun and Erik Half Moon looked out at the ridge.

“<Right there, you see?>”  Erik said, pointing straight ahead to the rocks. “<Something is moving in the rocks.>”

“<Your eyes were always better than mine,>” Thorfur commented. “<We should be ready. Blow the horn.> “

Erik lifted the thufak horn to his lips and blew. The sound rang throughout the lowland. The camp froze for a moment, and then everyone rushed. The warriors grabbed their axes and guns. They took the children to the safety of the tents. Those watching the horses readied them to ride.

Then everyone heard the white riders coming.

Thorfur raised his arm, “<Death to the invaders! The Great Sky Father Odon will see our victory before him! His son, the Thunderbird Gor, and his children will cry out for our bravery! To ME! To ME!>”

A great holler went up as the warriors ran to mount their horses. Today was a good day to die and be seated in the Great Sky Father’s tent with him!

As the posse mounted up they heard the horn blow.

“Damn it all!” Granger yelled, “They’ve seen us. Ride, soldiers, ride! Send them all to Hell!”

The posse came tearing out of the rocks. Speed was their ally. Speed would keep the Veriking marauders on their heels.

As they rode, Granger saw The Vetrix come out to meet them. Blond, Red, and Black hair mixed like sewn beads. As if on cue, the sky opened up. Rain poured down as lightning crashed and thunderstruck. Granger raised his rifle and fired. They only had moments before they would meet the enemy. The others followed suit, unleashing their own rain of lead into the marauders.

The sound of horses pounding the ground backed up the wall of fire from the posse. But then, the marauders responded with their own volley. Men on both sides fell.

Closer and closer they came. The marauders tossed their rifles and brought out their battleaxes. In unison, they screamed out to their ancestors to join them on this bloody day!

Then suddenly, Granger gave the signal and the posse broke left, racing along The Vetrix’s Left Wing.

Then they hit.

The great axes came down with the bellows of their warriors. The posse used their Gauss rifles to block and their pistols to shoot at close range. Granger knew they only had moments to break through The Left Wing before they were surrounded. So he pushed and rallied the men to push hard.

An axe came down and landed in Cassidy’s chest. Blood exploded from his mouth. Granger could feel the horses getting closer.

Push! Push! Push!

And then they were surrounded.

Granger had been at the Giausar Plains on Cygnus IV. He knew what a massacre looked like. He was about to see another. Damned be his arrogance!

Then the pressure released. Gunfire erupted from the camp. The warriors drew away. Others were confused. Granger took the chance and yelled, “Withdraw! Withdraw!”

The posse broke out and charged for the ridge. Some warriors chased after them. The posse made it into the rocks, dismounted, and greeted the enemy with more lead. Bodies fell. The enemy disengaged.

It was then the posse turned their attention to the right ridge.

‘Come on, bring the children!’ They all thought between heavy breaths. They could see five riders coming. Everyone mounted up to meet them. The riders were being chased but, once they saw the rest of the posse, the savages turned back.

The men rode for a mile before they stopped. Granger took a count: six were missing. It should have been more.

Granger looked at the riders. McCullough moved over to him.

“We got the Hubers . . . and Henry and Cassie Moore’s kids as well,” McCullough said. The children had been missing for three months. Both fathers, Huber and Moore, ran up, hugged their children, and cried.

Granger breathed out a heavy breath. He motioned for everyone to ride on again. They were lucky to have escaped the Verikings on this day. He didn’t want to test that luck any further.