The simplest solution to this problem was to have the Grenn repeat what their forbearers had done, but that soon proved to be impossible. The Grenn had long been growing reluctant to interfere with a planet’s ecosystem, even before the demise of the Alamani. And with their extermination, the Grenn were emboldened to reject nearly all requests for planetary adjustments, at which they excelled like no other species. With the Alamani already extinct, the Trade Federation was forced to call upon Myr scientists and Visk engineers to manage Agurru’s rotational vicissitudes. After much effort, they succeeded in shoring up the gyroscopic solution pioneered by the Grenn by drilling down to the planet’s core and pumping it full of a mixture of gases which slowly solidified to close off a number of deep fissures into which increasing amounts of magma had been leaking. However, despite the success in dealing with the immediate problem of the shifting axis of rotation, there were some significant side effects, the most significant of which being an increased rate of tectonic drift.
Appalled by the unanticipated consequence of the Myr-Visk solution, the Lycians commenced to bickering amongst themselves. The Tullans accused the Myr and Visk of gross incompetence, an opinion no doubt influenced by the fact that the Trade Federation had rejected proposed solutions offered by several leading Tullan clans. The Visk blamed the Myr for providing them with faulty calculations based on previously untested mathematical formulae. The Myr accused the Visk of faulty engineering and poor execution of the project. Yet, as bitter as the debate among Tullan, Myr, and Visk was, all agreed that it was the Grenn who should carry the great majority of the blame. If only they had agreed to make the necessary adjustments to their impossibly complicated system of geological balance and counterbalance, the surface would not quake so often and the skies would not be hazy with an excess of volcanic ash.
Though unperturbed by the heated accusations hurled against them, the Grenn did remind the other Lycians that prior to the execution of the project, they had gone to great pains to explain to the Myr and Visk how the process functioned. Unfortunately, because the Grenn do not employ any form of mathematics recognizable by the Myr or any engineering techniques known to the Visk, speaking instead in terms of “planet song”, “star notes”, and “rock rhythms”, no one could grasp the subtleties of their guidance. Even the most learned Brevians, experts in interpreting the strange ways of the Grenn, failed to extract any information that could help the Myr and Visk. They eventually gave up and walked away, frustrated and bewildered.
Despite the ongoing rancor and accusations, commitment to the great Agurru project stood strong. And although the Visk tried once more to correct the situation, they eventually conceded defeat and the Tullans were called upon to reinforce the foundations of D’norah Kûhn such that nothing short of a volcanic eruption directly beneath the fortress could damage the reactors.
In time, Logan was able to ignore the unsettling sensation of the trembling stone under his boots. Indeed, he found comfort in the spirits within his breast who were apparently quite familiar with the challenges of Agurru. The One Voice murmured assurances in Logan’s ear, calming his nerves and redirecting his thoughts to the battle to come. The other Navigators swirling in the depths of his being echoed the message of the One Voice. Agurru might tremble and shake from time to time, but if the hated Sahiradin breached the walls and destroyed the reactors, Agurru could be left to shred itself to bits and return to its previous status as a raw, rocky world in a forgotten system.
A group of Tullans roared and howled as Logan and his company passed by. They shouted their enthusiasm now that the Navigator, the Humani who had fought and nearly killed the dread Empress was among them. They honored him with some of their most beloved chants. They howled their delight, knowing five thousand soldiers, Logan’s War Dog Brigade, were stationed adjacent to them along the defensive line. These were Humani with whom they’d trained at Harmony Base. These were soldiers who, though few in number, had demonstrated they could go toe-to-toe with the Sahiradin and send the pale warriors on their journey to their vile ancestors.
Logan raised a fist in the manner common among Tullans, sometimes returning their chants and clapping his hands, but in his heart he knew the enthusiasm he was seeing was not just due to Tullan appreciation for the presence of Humani troops. They were scared, and these repeated chants, roars, and cheers were intended to steady their nerves as the time for battle swiftly approached. Tullans were impetuous and quick to anger, yet they frequently lost their resolve when pressed by the enemy or called upon to act in concert with rival clans. This tendency was magnified by their fear of the Sahiradin, for though they were as strong and fierce as the enemy, they lacked the pale warriors’ discipline and utter devotion to victory at all costs. That is why the presence of the Humani troops, especially Logan’s War Dogs, was so significant. The Humani had given all Tullans something to cheer for and rally around. Now, rather than grumbling over the things that divided them, they could focus on the promise of experienced, battle-hardened Humani troops under the generalship of not only a proven leader, but a man rumored to possess the mystical powers of a Navigator.
“Any word about the promised support from the Visk?” asked Logan as they passed through a massive gate into the next segment of Highway 1.
“None,” replied Beth, who like Logan was wearing Lycian issued battle armor over North America Corps battle fatigues.
Logan pressed his finger against the Lycian communications device inside his ear. A message was coming through the command channel. “The Sahiradin fleet is here,” he told the others. “Admiral Var-Imar’s fleet is now engaging against them. Landing craft have been spotted.”
Just then they heard the sound of ground-based guns firing. This was soon followed by the reverberations of Sahiradin projectiles launched from orbit shattering against the shield dome protecting D’norah Kûhn.
“Let’s move it!” said Logan.
They trotted farther down the corridor, past more cheering Tullans and a large contingent of Rahani sharpshooters, until they reached his brigade. The War Dogs and a few thousand Tullans would be anchoring the left end of the line. The rest of the Humani troops were stationed in the center where the Sahiradin were expected to focus their ground assault. The plan was to allow the Sahiradin to advance toward the center then hit their center. The War Dog Brigade, a few thousand Tullans, and fifty of Agrom’s Grenn would burst forth from hidden tunnels and collapse the enemy’s flank while Rahani battle droids sprang from hiding places on the canyon’s far side to attack the Sahiradin’s other flank. If all went as planned, the double pincer would squeeze the Sahiradin wings against the center, reducing their ability to maneuver. Then the entire Lycian force, including the remaining Grenn, would issue forth from the main gates and crush the invaders.
Logan and the others rounded a corner where row upon row of human soldiers stood, fully outfitted for war, in groups of one hundred each. They snapped to attention and saluted as soon as Logan entered.
“War Dogs!” shouted Logan when he reached the center of the formation.
“Hoohah!” they shouted as one.
“As you may have noticed from the sound of orbital bombardment against our shield dome, the Empress’ fleet has arrived. That’s good news for us because now we get to continue what we started at Bullard Creek.”
“Hoorah!”
“Now we get to smash their fleet and paint the rocks of Agurru with their blood!”
“Hoorah!” shouted the brigade, this time a little louder.
“It’s payback time for the Impact and billions dead! It’s payback time for the Long Winter!”
“Hoorah!” cried the troops, now shouting at the top of their lungs.
“Who are we?” shouted Logan.
“War Dogs!”
“What do we do?”
“Fight!”
“What’?”
“Fight!”
“You all know why we’re here. Now go do it!”
Ham
za and the brigade’s company commanders immediately started shouting orders to get into position, but none of the soldiers of Ward Dog Brigade needed to hear it. They were hardened, professional soldiers, forged in the crucible of wars fought against men and Sahiradin alike, and they were eager to put their abilities on display.
Logan watched as his troops dashed off to their pre-appointed places. As he did, Agrom approached from the opposite direction. The Grenn leader said something in a low baritone.
“My Turumbu is a bit spotty,” said Beth, “but Agrom was saying something about how your troops look ready for the fight.”
“I know what he said,” said Logan. He looked up at Agrom and extended his arm. “Go to your warriors, Agrom. Be ready for the signal to charge. Don’t hesitate. Don’t think twice. Attack and keep attacking until there’s no one left to fight.”
Agrom seemed to comprehend Logan’s meaning and solemnly nodded his head. “Unaduru Logan Brandt,” said the giant. “Unaduru marashundu.”
“He’s wishing you luck,” said Beth.
“You too, Agrom. “Unaduru marashundu.”
Agrom smiled and touched his hand to his breast before going to join his followers in the passage beyond.
Beth gently took Logan’s hand. “I’m going back to join Ravenwood and Longmire. They need me to help coordinate the attack. Be careful, Logan. Please promise me you’ll be careful.”
Logan looked into Beth’s worried eyes. She knew she was asking him to make a promise he couldn’t keep. This was war and soldiers had to trust their training and their reactions. There was no being careful because careful could get you killed. But that wasn’t the point. Her plea was not meant for Logan but for the fates to keep him safe.
“I promise,” he said as he embraced her tightly. He kissed her and whispered, “I’ll see you when this is done. I promise.”
Chapter 50
There’s nothing more enduring than a Tullan’s love for his clan, and nothing more divisive.
- Brassa Tut. Lectures from the Brevian Academy.
“Many of the clans refuse to fight,” said General Ghorla both embarrassed and furious with the behavior of his fellow Tullans. “None of them trust the others to follow the plan and attack as required.”
Beth couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She looked at Ravenwood, expecting him to launch into a tirade against the Tullan. But instead of arguing with Ghorla, the news seemed to have left him speechless. He was silently rubbing his short cropped hair with his hand and staring intently at the floor, mumbling quietly to himself.
“Ravenwood, are you listening to this?” asked Beth. “Ravenwood!”
The old man didn’t look up. He simply grunted and looked away, indicating with a wave of his hand that he was not to be bothered.
Beth turned her attention back to the big Tullan general, who was now staring at data scrolling along a holographic display and nervously pulling at his long chin whiskers. She read the Urudaska script. The fleet was being flanked. Lycian ships were being set aflame. Scores of Sahiradin troop transports and their fighter escorts were punching through the Lycian cordon and surging toward the planet surface. Her thoughts went momentarily to Cap. He was somewhere up there in his Falcon, fighting a desperate battle to keep the Sahiradin at bay. Or maybe he was dead already, floating among the debris of his shattered fighter. The list of damaged and destroyed ships was quickly growing. Thoughts of Cap drew her mind toward Lena, who along with her Serks was charged with protecting Admiral Var-Imar at all costs. The Sahiradin will come for the admiral, capture her as a war trophy and drag her in shackles before the Empress.
A corner of the report blinked red.
“What’s happening?” she asked Ghorla.
The Tullan general leaned forward to see the information more clearly, then pulled away, shocked. “It’s Havoc, Consul Styles. She appeared in the midst of the Sahiradin fleet and released a swarm of Codex fighter craft. Then she vanished. We were already outnumbered, but now we are overwhelmed.”
“All the more reason to attack the enemy assault force,” Beth urged Ghorla. “Tens of thousands of Sahiradin have already landed and many more transports are slipping through our defenses. We’ll have to trust in the fleet and our ion canons to keep the Sahiradin armada occupied long enough for us to strike. We must hit hard, general, and kill as many warriors as possible then withdraw. If we don’t attack, they’ll break through the fortress walls.”
Ghorla regarded the Humani through narrow eyes. “If we attack, many of us will die and all we will have done is delay the inevitable. If only the Humani had committed more troops, we could have met the Sahiradin outside the walls. But you chose to send only a fraction of your warriors. Now we face insurmountable odds.”
Beth grit her teeth in quiet rage, then said as calmly as possible, “We sent as many as we could, half-trained though many of them are. The Tullans have colonized dozens of worlds. Why didn’t you send more troops?”
Ghorla breathed in deeply. “You know the answer to your question. But I will speak the words if it will satisfy your hard heart. Many Tullans are barren. Those who do bring forth young hold them back from the struggle against the Empress’ hordes for they know their fate. This is an ancient war, Consul Styles. We’ve been fighting since before the parents of your parents were born. Many Tullans have fallen to Sahiradin blades and for what? Khadiem has destroyed Halduan. She has gained the last Kaiytáva and sends her spawn to the far corners of the galaxy to destroy our ships and burn our colonies. And now a Sahiradin armada like none ever before assembled is shredding what remains of our once mighty fleet. We can no longer think of victory, Consul Styles. We must now think only of survival.”
“You are the leader of all Lycian forces on Agurru, General Ghorla,” said Beth. She stepped toward the big Tullan, her shoulders square, chin turned upward, blue eyes defiant. “You had better tell your Tullans to quit pissing themselves and prepare to fight, or I’ll tell them for you.”
Ghorla shook his head vigorously, a Tullan warning sign that he was losing control of his emotions and could grow violent. “Do not dare command me, Humani!” he bellowed.
Beth took a step closer until she was just a hand’s breadth from the Tullan. “Or what?” she growled.
Just then Longmire entered the small antechamber where Beth and Ravenwood had pulled Ghorla a few minutes earlier to urge him not to abandon the battle plan.
Without taking her eyes off of Ghorla, Beth said, “General Longmire, are your soldiers ready to attack?”
“Hell yes,” said Longmire. “But what’s this I hear about the Tullans not willing to fight?” He looked at Ghorla, gave him an appraising look, and found him wanting. “They can’t hide in this fortress, stick their heads between their knees, and hope the bogyman goes away. This is the real deal, so tell our Tullan friends to get ready to fight or I’ll put a size twelve boot up every one of their asses!”
Beth translated Longmire’s statement into Urudaska for Ghorla to understand, though she could only approximate some of the more colorful imagery he’d conjured. It was good enough to get the point across. The big Tullan glowered at Longmire.
“Does the Humani warrior insult the honor of the Tullans?” he growled as his right hand drifted toward a dagger hanging at his side.
“Yes,” said Beth without hesitation, hoping to shame Ghorla into remembering his duties as leader of the Lycian forces. “Prove him wrong. You can pull your blade and attack me and Longmire, a fight I promise you’ll lose, or you can order this army go out and face the Sahiradin. What’ll it be?”
Ghorla was in such a rage he could not speak. His face went from the orange-red hue common among Tullans to a deep scarlet. His eyes bulged and spittle appeared in the corners of his mouth. He flashed a threatening look toward Beth. She took a step back and assumed a combat stance, readying herself for the big Tullan’s attack.
“How dare you…” snarled Ghorla.
“How dare you!” roared Ra
venwood, having emerged from his private thoughts. “We have an appointment with destiny and I’ll not let you stand in the way!”
He pushed Ghorla aside with surprising ease before the furious Tullan could speak and exited the small room. He entered the adjacent hall where many of the clan leaders had gathered. They were hotly debating how best to retreat into the surrounding mountains where the fleet, if any ships survived, could retrieve them.
“It must be now!” declared one of the Tullans. “Why pretend to defend D’norah Kûhn? Let us escape while we still can. We’ve all seen the reports. Admiral Var-Imar’s fleet is being thrashed. We need to request as many transports as possible and join the fleet before it withdraws, which it surely will.”
Another Tullan spat on the ground in disgust. “And your Quradisq Clan will lead the retreat, whimpering like a newborn puka? If we run into the mountains, we’ll be slaughtered from above. No! We will stay inside D’norah Kûhn and force the Empress’ spawn to come for us. We cannot know the outcome of the fight in orbit. Var-Imar has defeated the enemy before. She may do so again.”
These two statements set off a heated debate among the Tullan leaders. They insulted each other with ancient slurs and reminded one another of past betrayals and offenses. Two of them began pushing each other. Two or three others moved forward, ready to join the bourgeoning confrontation.
“What a pack of cowering fools you are!” yelled Ravenwood in fluent Urudaska, his booming voice cutting through the cacophony of bickering Tullans. He pointed an accusing finger at the those present. “Tullans often talk about their strength and bravery, but I have yet to see it! We face a hard-hearted enemy united in a common desire to subjugate us all. And how do you respond? You refer to old clan rivalries and past treacheries even as you plan to betray the Alliance! You are cowards! All of you! Cowards!”
The Renegade Page 44