His practiced eye knew when it happened, even before the Legion pilot came over the comm. The fighter craft's flight path altered subtly, as if the pilot had gone from gripping the control stick too hard, it nosed to a slightly different intercept course, and then a curt voice gave the pilot a change of heading and 'offered' escort against the Column fighter craft still in the area. At least they had the good grace to know when they had lost a round.
The Legion and Column fighter craft converged, but the dogfight only lasted a few moments. A sense of immense sadness washed over him as one of his own craft turned into a ball of fire, but by the time that fireball dissipated all of the Legion fighter jets had been destroyed. He switched his comm. gear to an old encryption, one he expected the Legion to break fairly quickly. “All jet-fighters, break off your attack! I repeat, break off”
One of the fighters responded, using the same poorly-encrypted band, as per the script, “But sir, we can dust these transports easy! These Legion bastards got one of us! We want them all!”
Lucas felt pride at the presence of mind shown by that man, to be able to improvise in the midst of all this, “I don’t care what you want, boy, that was an order. We don’t know what other forces may be coming in from another direction, and I want you blasted thrust-riders keeping us safe. Now turn about and fall in!”
Acknowledgement came from all of the fighters. They formed up on the decoy, holographic troop carriers, and they began their long flight to an abandoned island where they would shake their pursuers, then rendezvous with a refueling submersible. Lucas allowed himself a small smile at that one. The Legion would be tearing that hunk of rock apart for months.
He felt his ship slowly settle into the water, heard the alarm signaling submersion, heard the other transports signal that they had safely made it beneath the waves. Somehow, those alarms became the most soothing sound in the world, and seemed to chase the adrenaline out of his system. Without that to hold his weariness back, sleep claimed him with a vengeance. A sense of relief and great accomplishment followed him into the depths.
Chapter 18
Gabern sat in his office, looking at the face of an annoyed Sar on the vidphone. Sar didn’t like reading the sort of long reports that low-level functionaries put out, and had a tendency to make Gabern (or his fellow student/protectorates) read reports and provide him summaries: And woe be it unto whomever left out an important detail. Sar had quietly listened to his summary, taking it all with an aplomb which he found somewhat surprising considering the number of plans this dashed to the ground.
Gabern finished the report, but continued speaking. “So, I guess we have the question of how desperate they are for food. If they were in the sort of condition we believed I doubt they would go destroying tons and tons of grain like that.”
The corners of Sar’s mouth turned down slightly, and his head gave the barest shake, “The question is in no way settled. Don’t forget that part of what has kept The Column alive all these generations is subterfuge and double-dealing. If you look at the history of the Families you will find that they have even allied themselves with weaker Powers briefly, from time to time. I could be convinced that The Column took the grain from those silos and replaced it with common stock, but that would show thinking that is much more long-term than what we have seen from them in the past. It would also mean that they had been there for many hours, even before the calls came in which alerted that media crew and the Legion.”
“Yes, sir. The information in the reports gives no clear idea as to how long they were there. According to the civilians they had been there a fairly short time. They grabbed the Legion troops and governor, put down any resistance, blew a few things up, and then left. The state of the fires and general disarray of the civilians supports this, but there is one thing…” Gabern paused, but Sar motioned for him to continue, “The bodies of the Legion dead, sir. The coroner said it was hard to tell how long they had been dead, because of the lack of elemental exposure and the fact that each body had been covered with a tarp. None of the bodies had been moved, though, which would seem to indicate they hadn’t been there long.
“That newscast call concerns me as well. The newscaster on the scene was not an approved anchor, and none of the approved ones even heard about this thing until the broadcast went live, though I have to admit it turned out to be good press for us: The Legion coming in like the Cavalry and all that. The only conclusion I can come to, though, is that The Column made the call themselves, and I can no more understand that than I can puzzle out the reason for this raid. It is much larger than anything they have pulled in the recent past, and they have to know that we will respond harshly to it.”
Sar looked pensive for a few moments before speaking, “The news crew is a little troubling, and may be the start of a larger campaign. That camera was on Lucas and those civilians for a good fifteen seconds. Every man and woman who saw that broadcast was waiting, that entire time, for him to draw his weapon and gun them down, but he didn’t. Furthermore, there is the interview that reporter managed to air before we jammed her where the plebe assured everyone in the world that there were no civilian casualties, and claimed that The Column had pulled this off with a force no larger than that of the Legion but had taken no casualties. Even with the conflicting reports from other civilians, that makes the Legion look a little less effective.
“I suppose that you have elements in place to pick up or otherwise deal with that reporter? Well, don’t. I want her left alone. Put her under constant surveillance, every phone tapped and every email monitored. If she is a sympathizer she could be far more useful to us in the wind than as an example. Making her an example right now has too much risk of making her a martyr instead.
“I’m much more concerned with their reasoning for the raid. I seriously doubt that they were carrying off all of that grain, such an endeavor would be too time-consuming and too risky. They would have either had to use a large aerial cargo hauler, which would have shown up on satellite scanners, or enough small haulers that they would have likely been detected. That Forward-Operational-Base you found would have been no place to store the grain, and its existence speaks to the fact that they did not take the stuff.
“I can think of a number of reasons for this raid, some make little sense and others are very troubling. The most likely being that they were looking for a large number of prisoners to interrogate, and/or that they are planning on holding the choice prisoners for ransom. Make sure the Families of the men taken know that we expect to hear about any ransom demands immediately. It is also possible that there were a number of those men who wanted to defect. Most of the men stationed there were non-Family types, because the principle job of that garrison was to keep any Family from trying to grab the grain in order to gain a leg-up on the rest of us.
“Each of these scenarios suggests that the grain was destroyed as a decoy, which is tidy and reasonable. The thought which disturbs me is that they may have figured out what we plan with the food shortage, and the grain actually was the target.”
Gabern pursed his mouth for a moment and shrugged before he spoke, “This certainly does interfere with our plans for that food shortage. I’m assuming that the reason you have called the circle to meet tonight is to discuss whether or not we can continue with that plan?”
This time Sar made an unpleasant face before speaking, “That plan is basically in shambles, and one of the principle reasons for it is gone besides. If we take the world to that level of scarcity we may not be able to recover without that new grain, and there aren’t enough samples of it around to have them ready in time. No, we are going to have to stop everything that isn’t already too far in motion. We will be able to have our shortage, and get some of the PR gain out of it we intended, but it won’t be near what I wanted. The fact that we can blame the whole thing on The Column is a consolation, but not much of one.”
Gabern hesitated a moment before bringing up the last item on his agenda for the call, “Wha
t about that Terl guy with the shipping company? Do we leave him to the meeting or…”
He noted the irritation of Sar’s face as a wave of his mentor's hand cut him off, “Squash him like a bug. I want him under arrest in no more than three hours. I want everything he owns confiscated under the tax code, and him rotting in jail with a permanent sentence in no more than a month. I’m tired of dealing with that maggot.”
A stray thought struck Gabern, and he tried to keep it off his face, but Sar had made a science of reading people, and he found himself fixed with his mentor’s best ‘Out With It’ stare. “Um, sir, have you considered that the Kennien and/or the Hawthorne families had anything to do with any of this. We have been forced by all of this to take exactly the action they wanted; maybe they are Playing The Column? It would certainly explain the boldness of that reporter, and the timing.”
Sar’s eyes narrowed, but a slight look of approval showed on his face, “Good, I was wondering if you were going to make that connection. It is possible, but unlikely. We will have to watch them, but for now I’m considering their participation unlikely. Playing The Column is a dangerous game, and neither of those families is known for being bold.
“Make the calls, and make sure that everyone in the circle knows that I will accept no excuses for absence tonight. Oh, and I expect you to take good notes tonight, rather than relying on the recordings. I will not tolerate that kind of laziness in my protégé.”
Gabern grimaced and cut the connection. Sar could be so demanding when he was annoyed.
***
“I’m not a feather hunter, Santiner, you know that. I came into The Academy bound and determined to be alone when I departed, but… Please believe me when I say this bothers me more than it does you. Hell, I’m the one who is a Senior here, and you are a sophomore. I’m the one taking the risk.” Laura tried not to hold her breath as Santiner stared at her hand, sitting in the middle of the table, and his conflicting emotions played across franticly shifting eyes. They were alone in the mess hall, the remnants of their meals long forgotten and the only sound the droning of the flat-vid in the corner.
The young man stared at her hand. One moment he stared at it like a drowning man would stare at a lifeline, the next like a man watching a dagger plunging toward his heart. She felt panic well up inside her each time his expression changed. That he might accept her offer thrilled her very soul, but also reduced her heart to gibbering terror. That he might turn away from her cut to her core, but her resolve to see the destruction of the Column met the pain and subdued it.
She knew that the war inside him was little different. This young man had lost everything he loved in life to the war, and believed he had nothing to cling to but vengeance. Her hand had to look like redemption and condemnation, all rolled into one.
She could read him like a book; hardly surprising after these last few months. They had seen more and more of each other since the incident in the sparing room. Their low-born peers held them in awe, while the silver-spoons hated them with an equal passion. The silver-spoons had made no secret of their attempts to derail their careers, but she and Santiner had the support of others like themselves. Their new friends could be hard to rely on, though, for then they had to put up with their embarrassingly worshipful attitudes. In the end they found that no one else to talk to, no one else who understood.
They had both fought against it, fought against the emotion which had begun to grow, but could do so no longer. She couldn’t remember how they had gotten onto the topic, how this conversation started, but it couldn’t be left to hang. Not again. Not this time.
She saw him notice the vulnerability in her eyes, saw how it shook him to his core. She felt herself fall off the emotional precipice with him, and their confused emotions became an un-sortable jumble. As her mind searched for a place to ground the words from the vid filtered into her mind. “…Black smoke… Column… Lucas…”
At the last word their heads snapped to the corner of the room, and they saw the embodiment of their rage launch into the air. An ocean of fury washed away the emotional turmoil of the previous moments. A sharp noise came from the table, and she looked down to find his fist next to her hand. He seemed to notice neither that he had moved, nor that he had put a crack in the table. She sat still, her face toward him but her eyes toward the screen.
They watched the news cast until the Legion cut it off. How many of their comrades had died? How many civilians would starve because of the destroyed food? She could see these thoughts float behind his eyes, but they barely seemed to matter to him. Just one more score to settle, one more mark on The Column’s account.
He turned back to face her. She made no attempt to speak. She understood, understood in a way that did not need words. She was in the fight with him, would see it through with him, would mark each tally off as it was repaid in Column blood. His hand opened slowly, gradually, almost reluctantly, moving to cover hers. They looked deep into on another’s eyes, firming a dedication to the other, to the Legion, and to their mission to make The Column pay.
Others, weaker souls than theirs, would be bawling like babies at this moment, but their eyes were dry and clear. They turned to watch the rest of the news cast. Her warring emotions settled down into a dedication to this man who had come, unbidden, into her heart. He had been so alone, ready to take the fight to the enemy though forsaken by all he knew. She felt glad to be there for him, and promised herself that he would not face it alone, and that she finally had someone to stand with her to face their foe. It was good to have someone, finally, who understood.
***
Korla wanted to feel bad about the Legionaries who had died or been captured, but had trouble doing so. If half of what he heard about the conditions at Lancern proved true, they got what they deserved. He didn’t want to believe anything he’d heard about the Legion, either, yet had trouble discounting it. Everything he came up with to counter the stories ran afoul of one basic fact: he could find absolutely no reason to have a garrison that size there.
The parties called to him as he sat in his room; torn between happiness that these people had been saved from starvation, and mourning the loss of his comrades-in-arms. He wanted to go join the celebration, but could not bring himself to do so. Sitting here had become painful. Each beat of music both called to and repelled him. He wanted to revel with these people, celebrate their chance to avoid crisis. He wanted to wreck the music instruments with his own hands and rail at the people celebrating the deaths of his Legion brothers.
At last he could take it no more, and fled his room in search of solace. He’d had no direction in mind, but soon found himself nearing his usual Nest. The sounds drifted up from parties nearby. The beats came in waves upon his wings and drove him forward like a lash upon his back. A thought stabbed at him as his pace quickened toward the door: No chance he’d be able to go out since there would be no one around to scan him for transmitters and unlock the door.
He approached the last corner and nearly turned around, but the lash of the music drove him on. What he saw brought him up short. A flyer sat at the door, giving every appearance of waiting for him. This was one of the few flyers who didn’t go out of his way to avoid him. This man had never expressed a desire to talk to him, but had never turned away from him either.
The man stood as Korla approached, holding out a scanner. He didn’t know how the flyer knew he’d be here, but found himself too busy feeling grateful at the chance to get Outside to care. The man favored him with a sad smile while he checked the scanner readings then silently opened the door. He found the look of understanding which crossed his benefactor's face unsettling, but the music continued to beat on him, even at this distance. He ran and jumped, then drove his wings hard, trying to outrun the unsettling feelings at war within.
It still didn’t take very long to exhaust himself, and he found a spot to sit and think just below the perpetual cloud. The rock which formed his seat appeared quite worn, and he guessed th
at this place must have seen a lot of use over the years.
The cloud was above him, the sea below, and he sat with the rock. Eventually the sun rose over the water, bathing cloud, mountain, and water in brilliant gold. He felt a great relief here, away from the confusion these people caused. He took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air, and let the tumult of thoughts out with his breath. It was difficult to relax with all the conflict in his heart, but he able to push thought aside bit by bit.
Korla became one with the rock, steady and immovable. He would be like the rock, resisting the false gold which this new dawn claimed to bring.
***
Lucas sat with Torfan at the head table of the celebration. They had found themselves in one of the cafeterias this time, somewhere deep in the bowels of the Sanctuary. Well, maybe not the depths of the Sanctuary, but certainly below sea-level, and probably close to an airlock, judging by the salty smell which permeated the air. He wished that Sharon could be with him this time, but at the same time felt glad she had to be elsewhere. He ate a few bites of food, enough to keep up appearances. This made their fourth celebration to attend that evening, and he had eaten far too much already.
All of Farung Sanctuary had turned into a massive party, with little celebrations everywhere, and they had decided that every one of them should have an appearance by at least two members of the command staff. Lucas looked a question at Torfan, who nodded while smiling broadly and enjoying yet another cup of wine. They had been here long enough. He looked at his friend’s wife, and she giggled her agreement, motioning for him to make his speech.
With that he stood, mostly steadily, and tapped on an empty glass. He kept his remarks short; an expression of gratitude for hospitality, and affirmation of every member's importance to the cause. He deliberately did not speak of the short-term shortages of food to come. Everyone knew, and had already committed to overcoming.
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