“Are you speaking for all Travelers?” asked Kane. “Now who’s the king?”
Mordechai clenched his hands into fists. “Why don’t you take yer fancy rifle, yer sword, and yer pack and march right back into the woods, Kane. You too, Carlos. This gatherin’s fer Travelers, Kane. And like I said, you ain’t no Traveler - never have been!”
“You may not like hearing it, Mordechai, but the Sahiradin are coming,” said Kane, though he directed his comments more toward the group of Travelers who were starting to gather around them. “And however bad things were under the Guardians, it’ll be a thousand times worse under Khadiem and her warriors. Harken will just be her puppet.”
Kane’s words had no effect on Mordechai. “Harken’s comin’, the Sahiradin are comin’,” he said in a mocking tone. “Whatever happens, will happen, Kane. It’s only our damn arrogance that makes us think that the world is better off with us in it. It’s only our damn monkey-brained, tribal instincts that make us think we should be in charge of things. Travelers are free of that madness. We accept what comes.”
“You fought against the PRA, why won’t you fight now?” asked Carlos. “What’s changed? The Guardians wanted to enslave or kill you. The Sahiradin will want to do the same and worse.”
“We had no love of Harken and his Guardians, but look at what’s goin’ on now,” replied Mordechai, who like Kane was addressing his words to those seated around them and gathering nearby to hear. “We got rid of the PRA and now we’ve got you and yer Septemberists pokin’ into our business. The Septemberists ain’t so very different from the Guardians, ya know. Old Malcom Weller started out with a lotta power and a lotta good intentions. And where’d that lead us? Right to Harkin and the damn Guardians. And just like Weller did, the Septemberists have been beatin’ their drums, holdin’ their damn rallies, singin’ songs, and marchin’ around. Now they’re sendin’ their people out into the countryside to spread their political religion and write up their friends and enemies lists. And in case you think it’s just the towns they’re interested in, yer wrong. They’re tryin’ to get us Travelers ta report in. They say it’s ta make sure we get medicine and food, but that’s a damn lie wrapped in a pretty bow. They want ta record, count, and track us, just like Harken did with his damn checkpoints ‘n visas.”
“So you’ll just lie down and let Linsky, Harkin, and his new Sahiradin friends murder you?” asked Kane, looking first at Mordechai then the others, challenging each one. “Because that’s what they’ll do if they win. There’ll be no camps this time. Just a bullet to the head and a shallow grave.”
This drew a few murmurs from those gathered around.
“You still don’t understand, Kane,” said Mordechai angrily. “We humans ain’t no different from the Sahiradin. We’re just as cruel and vengeful. To fight them is to become them. It’s better to live life free and peaceful and accept what comes. Otherwise the short time we got in this life will be full of nothin’ but anger, ambition, and cruelty. Don’t tie yer guts in knots by givin’ in ta this foolish need to control things. Travelers live free and blameless. That’s the Traveler way, Kane. And that’s why you ain’t no Traveler!”
Kane took a deep breath but did not argue with Mordechai any further. He looked from face to face of those gathered around and said, “What about the rest of you? Do you agree with the Prophet?”
Mordechai spat again upon hearing the word “prophet” but said nothing.
“Mordechai thinks it’s arrogant to resist when someone’s trying to kill or enslave you. He thinks it was a mistake to pull down Harken and the Guardians because the Septemberists are trying to count and control you. Do you all believe that?”
One of the other Travelers sitting by the fire, a dark complexioned woman who had been carefully listening to the exchange shook her head and said, “Mordechai, you’re a good man and you mean well, but you’re a damn pain in the neck. Have you really thought this through?”
“Yeah, I have, Breda!” snapped Mordechai. “We ain’t getting’ involved!”
The Prophet of the Woods glared at her for a moment then at the others. They could not hold his gaze and soon looked away.
Kane seized on the opportunity to build on the flicker of dissent among the Travelers Breda had exposed.
“There’s trouble in the Pennsylvania highlands. I need ten Travelers to help me secure a cave up there.”
No one spoke or even returned his gaze. None dared risk Mordechai’s wrath; there would be no volunteers. Kane looked at Mordechai, who scowled contemptuously in return.
“I guess I’ll be leaving now,” said Kane, disappointed. “I wish you all safe travels. Others will be risking their necks for you, but don’t let that put stones on your path.”
Kane reached down, snatched up his pack, and started walking toward the forest’s edge, Carlos right beside him.
“How can they be so foolish?” said Carlos as they strode away. “They know what will happen if Harken comes back to power. How can they just sit back and let that happen without a fight?”
“Well, I have to admit to holding a similar opinion until two days ago,” said Kane, “but in the case of the Travelers, it’s all Mordechai’s doing. He planted his philosophy in their heads and now he’s gotten them all turned around on what matters and what doesn’t.”
“How did he get to be so powerful? I don’t know the Travelers like you, but I don’t recall them ever having a leader, especially one with the kind of influence as this Mordechai.”
Kane shook his head and sighed. “Mordechai was once a common Traveler. Stubborn as hell, but generally sociable. Then he spent six months living in an old library of an abandoned town. The SPD and Red Legs had shut down all access to the area as part of Harken’s first invasion of the League so he was trapped there.”
“Six months is a long time to spend alone,” observed Carlos.
“Yes it is. He had no one to talk to that whole time, no one to hear his words. But he had books. Lots and lots of books, which he read all day long in a hidden corner of the library.”
“He was fortunate to have them to help him pass the time until he could escape.”
“Well, that depends. He was inside a library that early followers of Malcom Weller had ransacked. They collected all of the objectionable books and made a nice bonfire. Then they refilled the library with books more to their liking.
“I see,” said Carlos. “So his reading selection was a little skewed.”
“You could say that,” said Kane. “He went into that library a common Traveler, ignorant of politics, history, and philosophy. He came out well-read and unwise.”
As they stalked past groups of musicians and dancing Travelers toward the darkness of the forest, Carlos said, “It would have been good to have a few people to help us. Are you sure this cave you described is so critical to Harken and the Sahiradin?”
“Ravenwood said it would be their number one goal if they come back, and I learned a long time ago not to second guess the old man when it comes to the Sahiradin.”
“If Harken is an agent of the Sahiradin, we must defeat their plans for Earth,” said Carlos. “Are you certain you do not want to ask the Septemberists for help? We cannot do this alone.”
“If Linsky was able to kill Attika in her own office, the Septemberists must be riddled with Linsky’s informants. We can’t trust them or the old network. We have to assume they’re compromised.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” said Carlos. “Though I warned her, Attika had come to rely on former Justice Guardian Bishop to do much of her dirty work. I’m sure he played a part in her death. He disappeared as soon as it happened.”
“She was working with Bishop?” said Kane incredulously. “No wonder she’s dead. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have friends.”
“You have an idea?” asked Carlos.
“Maybe. There is one other person who might help us…or kill us.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
Kane clapped his hand on Carlos’ back. “Chances are we’ll survive. C’mon, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
Chapter 45
Just as antiballistic technology cleared the way for the reintroduction of the sword onto the battlefield, the bracer also emerged as an integral part of a soldier’s equipment. Early versions of bracers were rather heavy and unwieldy, but they soon evolved into intricate pieces of machinery capable of protecting the war fighter against enemy blades by expanding into curved, interlocking metal plates running from elbow to wrist. This combination of antiballistic shield, sword, and protective bracer fundamentally reshaped the role of the war fighter on the battlefield from being equipped with weapons designed to kill at ever greater distances to that of delivering death up close.
- Gabriel Owens. Changing Battle Tactics in a Post-Impact World.
Logan ascended the steps of the parade ground platform to the sound of five thousand swords slowly drumming against Lycian-made bracers on the forearms of the soldiers below. In the distance behind him, half-hidden in the morning mists rolling off the banks of the Mississippi, were five large troop transports. The Lycian ship’s engines hummed softly. Their access ramps were lowered to the ground, ready to accept their cargo of Humani soldiers. In the skies above Earth, transports carrying troops from Africa Corp and Euro Corp were already joining the Lycian fleet comprised of three Agorasáû class ships, what humans termed heavy cruisers, five Le’iet class ships, or fast attack light cruisers, and an assortment of patrol vessels. Soon the ships would be disappearing through a nearby khâl and reappearing thousands of lightyears away over the planet Agurru.
The drumming of swords on bracers grew steadily louder. The tempo increased as the soldiers of the War Dog Brigade watched their general cross the review platform. When Logan reached the center, he stood with his legs slightly apart, shoulders back, hands clasped behind his back. The sound of swords striking bracers grew into a great roar, like storm-driven seas crashing onto a rocky shore. Logan raised his hands. The assembled soldiers immediately ceased their drumming and held their swords at their sides. Logan swept his eyes across the brigade and nodded his head with satisfaction. He knew most of these soldiers well, and they knew him. They’d chewed the same ground chasing Third Army to the Canadian border where they crushed the last of the Guardians’ forces. They spent the next nine months hounding the last hold-out of the old PRA power structure, Alexander Linsky, systematically destroying his network of secret cells and driving him underground until they finally caught him in a filthy farmhouse basement outside New Brunswick. Then they’d pivoted to join Lycian forces on raids against several Sahiradin outposts and research facilities.
But not all of Logan’s brigade were former Second Army soldiers. Many were drawn from the other nations of North America, including the League of Free Cities, the Pacific Federation, the Federated Canadian Provinces, and the Southern Union. A contingent of five hundred tough fighters from the Republic of Mesamerica had also joined Logan’s brigade, each one of them eager to pay the Sahiradin back for the asteroid which had destroyed much of Mexico City a century before.
“Soldiers of the North America Corp, Sixth Brigade,” said Logan in a loud voice. “War Dogs!”
“Hooorah!” replied five thousand voices as one.
“Earth needs you. Your families need you. Every human being on this planet needs you. You know why you’re here. You know what’s out there lurking in the cold darkness of space. Many of you have seen the enemy. You’ve crossed swords with them, looked into their pale, dead eyes, smelled their stink. You’ve witnessed their brutality, their contempt for Earth and every living soul that calls it home. As we stand here today, millions of Sahiradin soldiers, warriors bred for battle, are slinking through their filthy caves, gnashing their teeth and sharpening their swords with just one thought hammering in their brains - exterminate humanity, murder us all, every man, woman, and child.”
These last words evoked a low, primal growl from the soldiers of War Dog Brigade.
“Some of you might wonder why they hate us so much, why they’d like to wipe the universe clean of humanity. Well, I could tell you it’s part of some ancient feud that has nothing to do with us. I could tell you it’s because they want revenge for nearly killing their Empress Khadiem when they appeared in our skies five years ago.”
A few low hoorahs greeted this statement.
“I could tell you it’s because we’ve allied ourselves with their enemies, the Lycians. But in the end, none of that matters. Knowing why they hate us doesn’t change one damn thing because at the end of the day it’s us or them. It’s that simple. There will be no negotiations. No appeasement. No subjugation and occupation. It will be continuous war - ship against ship, army against army, soldier against warrior until one side emerges victorious!”
A rumble of swords drumming against bracers began in the center of War Dog Brigade then rippled to the fringes before dissipating.
“I won’t stand up here and lie to you. The Empress’ hordes of warriors outnumber us,” continued Logan. “But we’re not alone in this fight. We have allies, the Lycians. Stubborn Tullans, deadly Rahani, and Agrom and his mighty Grenn. You’ve all trained with them here at Harmony Base. Some of you have fought alongside them on far away worlds – places we didn’t even know existed five years ago. But we know them now. The soil of Bortha, Cis-Karna, and Tuska IV have all been sanctified by the blood of fallen human comrades.”
Logan looked solemnly at the faces gathered before him as the sights and sounds of hard fought engagements on alien worlds flitted through his mind. He raised his fist and shouted, “But those worlds drank their fill of Sahiradin blood!”
“Hooorah!” shouted the soldiers.
Logan slowly walked to his left along the edge of the platform. He looked down at the soldiers in the first few rows then lifted his eyes to take in the entire assembly.
“The enemy is fierce and tenacious, but we are trained in their techniques, and we have armed ourselves with the weapons of this war. We have swords as strong as the enemy’s. We have new blasters capable of blowing a hole in a Sahiradin’s chest as big as your fist. With these and other weapons in our hands, the enemy will come to know our strength and our wrath. Our will is like iron. A lion’s heart beats in each of our breasts because we know that failure on the battlefield does not just mean defeat, it means extinction!
“The Sahiradin fear our rage…They fear us! I’ve seen it in their eyes! Fighting is in our blood. Just like the Sahiradin, we’ve been waging wars for a long time. And we’re damn good at it!”
Another wave of drumming swords rolled across the War Dog Brigade.
“But until now it’s been brother against brother, sister against sister - petty squabbles over land, resources, and the ambitions of madmen. Those days are behind us now. Look around you and you’ll see men and women from the old PRA, Mesoamerica, the Free Cities, Northrunner Territory, Southern Union, Canadian Provinces, and the Pacific Federation. Even though we come from different places on this continent, those names have lost their old meaning. No longer do they serve to separate us and remind us of our differences. They are artifacts of the past. We’ve shut the door on the age of human fighting human. Look around the world and you’ll see it happening before your eyes. The nations of every continent are forming armies to contribute to the defeat of the Empress’ hordes, to chase them back into their stinking holes under the mountains of Sahir. Europeans, Asians, Africans, South Americans, and North Americans have all come together in this, Earth’s greatest hour of need.”
Logan paused and grinned.
“But while most of Earth’s armies are still being assembled and trained, there’s an immediate need for a small group of tough and able soldiers to take on the enemy right now! That’s why we’re here today. Most of you already know where we’re going. It’s a planet called Agurru, a miserable chunk of rock from what I hear, but it’s home to a group of massive ge
nerators that power the hypergates to dozens of worlds in the Alliance. There’s a Sahiradin fleet on its way to destroy those generators. If they succeed, they’ll cripple the Alliance. But that won’t happen! Their Empress sits on her throne under her mountain thinking she’s got the galaxy on a string, but she’s about to learn that she’s got a lion by the tail, an extremely pissed lion!”
“Hoorah!”
“Now some of you will feel fear in your guts when your boots first touch alien soil. Some of you are wondering right now if you’ll measure up or break down when we meet the enemy. That’s normal. Believe me, it’ll go away the first time you cross swords with one of those scaly bastards. Your fear will turn to rage the first time you see a comrade go down or a Sahiradin lunges at you with his dark sword. That’s the moment when your spirit will awaken. That’s the moment you’ll recognize your ancient warrior heritage. Your blood will boil with the desire to spill their guts into the dust. That’s when you’ll give the Sahiradin the thing they all long for – death in battle!”
“Hooorah!” shouted the soldiers of War Dog Brigade
“Hoorah!” repeated Logan, shaking his clenched fist in the air.
He paused for a few moments before continuing.
“There’s one more thing I want to talk about before we board those Lycian transports. I’ve heard some of you talking about how few we are against the millions of Sahiradin warriors. You speak about how much better it would have been if only we could have faced the Sahiradin before the Impact, before we lost eighty percent of Earth’s population and suffered a century of hardship. This is normal. I’ve heard it said one way or another ever since we learned that we were on the Sahiradin hit list. But I’ve got a different take on it. We didn’t know it at the time, but the Impact was a Sahiradin sneak attack, an attempt by a damaged Sahiradin warship on recon to weaken us until the rest of its fleet could arrive.”
Logan paced the stage, taking a few moments to look from face to face, his eyes burning with the desire for revenge.
The Renegade Page 41