by R. J. Leahy
He looked up at her drawn face glaring down at him, her jaw set so tight surely her teeth must soon grind into dust.
Not like you.
"All right,” he said finally. “If you're willing, then, yes, I want you."
Mordachi pulled him aside.
"Are you mad?” he said in a hushed voice.
"No, I'm desperate. She's right, I need her. I need all the help I can get. Mordachi, we both know I have never led men into battle. She has. And that weapon of hers scares the hell out of me. I'd much rather she wield it."
"I understand, but she is not a machine. She is emotionally broken. Even if what you say is true, at best you have a fragile and unstable soldier. And don't think she's coming with you to win a war. Look in her eyes, David. That woman is going into battle for one reason—to die."
"You think I don't understand that?” he answered angrily. “I know what she's been through, but I have a war to win. If bringing her along means fewer of my people die, than so be it. I can't afford compassion right now. I will use everything I can to save Pyros—even her."
Mordachi patted him gently on the arm, sighing. “All right, son, you must do what you think is necessary, but take this as a warning—that weapon of hers is more powerful than anything you or I have ever seen. If her fragility should shatter while it is in her hands, the danger may not just be to the enemy—and you may not be able to control her."
Jeena nudged her mount toward the whispering men. “Let's get going."
"Please reconsider, Jeena,” Mordachi pleaded gently. “Stay here with us. You need time to heal."
She ignored him and spoke to David.
"Are the troops ready?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go. It's four weeks to Uruk, and Jacob has already set out."
The two men exchanged worried glances.
"No, gentlemen, I'm not having visions. I know he's marching because he has to. In less than two months the rainy season begins. He has half a million men and tons of machinery to move and a lot of distance to cover—he has to have left by now.” She turned grim. “Now, if there are no more questions concerning my sanity, I suggest we get moving."
She sat silently on her kytar as David addressed the troops and started them off. Their route would take them over flat country for most of their journey, and he had hoped to use the time to work with them before reaching Uruk. All were good riders, but as a part-time army, they had little experience working as a unit.
Jeena had helped him devise several training exercises, including close-order drills, sweeps and cavalry charges they could practice while still moving swiftly toward Uruk. The first day, however, he wanted them to get used to hard riding, and moved them steadily and swiftly well into the night.
The two moons had already set before he finally gave the order to halt. The men and women were tired and sore, but there was little grumbling as they made camp. Soon, tiny fires dotted the hillside as they ate a late meal before turning in.
He sat across from Jeena at their own small fire. She had said nothing during the meal, and now sat staring into the flames.
"I'm all right,” she said suddenly.
"What?” He was almost startled to hear her voice.
"I know Mordachi thinks I should have stayed in Pyros, but I'm all right. I'd like to take over the training in the morning, if you don't mind."
"No, not at all. I'd very much appreciate it. But are you sure you're up to it? I mean, after all you've been through?"
"Been through? You mean Samson's death? David, I've seen thousands die. Poor little Maggie died right at my feet. And those women in the prison—I watched them die one by one. You don't have to worry about me; Death and I are old friends. It doesn't affect me anymore."
Her voice was steady and unbroken and her face composed, yet he could feel the lie in her words. That she would go to such lengths to shut down her emotions told him all he needed to know about the depth of her loss.
He watched the fire reflecting in her eyes. There was so much pain buried behind those eyes, and anger, too. Forgive me, Jeena, but I need that pain, and that anger. I need all that you have. I need you to save my people.
They broke camp before dawn. Although there were a few mishaps, including a runaway kytar, David was pleased with their speed and professionalism.
His first task was to get them proficient in riding in formation. As Jeena had pointed out, a cavalry's greatest asset was its mass, and was best utilized by driving into an enemy as a single unyielding unit. Separately, each animal and its rider could be overcome, but as part of a cohesive group they became a powerful and effective force.
Under her direction, he divided them into three groups and assigned captains to each. They practiced charges and sweeps under Jeena's scrutiny. As she had warned him, while they were all capable riders, they were woefully inept at synchronized movement.
They kept at it the entire day, all the while moving steadily south. They took orders without complaint and enthusiastically, knowing the skills they were learning could very well save their lives.
David allowed them only a few short rests during the march, to rest and water the kytars. They needed toughening up before facing the army of the Rosh-dan, and he wanted them to get used to putting long days in the saddle. Even Jeena complained she was a little stiff and sore by the end of the second day.
She sat near him at their campfire, smoking a cigar and stretching her legs. She had been more talkative today and less somber, though he had been careful to avoid any unsettling topics.
"You ride like you've been on a kytar your whole life,” he commented.
"I'd never even heard of a kytar before landing on Ararat, but we have similar animals on Earth. I spent a lot of time in my youth riding them at the Home."
David remembered she had mentioned something about the Home before. It was a sort of orphanage, he recalled, and the memory had seemed unpleasant to her, so he let it drop.
There was some playful shouting and laughter from one of the nearby tents.
Jeena shook her head.
"They're dedicated, if not particularly skilled yet, but they're too lighthearted, too confident."
"I think that is mostly your doing. You don't know how pleased they all were that you're coming with us. They feel your training and expertise gives them a great advantage. They have a lot of confidence in you."
"I'm glad they have faith in me, but over-confidence will get them killed. This war will be brutal, maybe more so than you understand. In the morning, I want you to take a good hard look at your troops. My guess is that, even if we win, half of them won't be coming back."
David grew somber. Pyros being the relatively small community it was, he knew most of the men and women under his command by name. He had tried not to think too much in terms of losses. Now he let her words sink in. How many would die?
He glanced back at Jeena, who now sat back, her eyes closed. She has seen so much death and destruction in her life. Is that why she keeps everyone at arms-length, why she resists letting anyone get close? Except Samson, of course, and now he is dead as well. Maybe that is the only way to survive war. Will I be the same, when this is all over?
* * * *
The work continued over the course of the march, as Jeena fought to weld the troops into a single fighting unit. Although David was technically the commanding officer, he turned most of the instruction over to her, bowing to her greater experience.
She was a natural leader who knew the subtleties of command. Praise, when earned, was given publicly and within earshot of all. Criticism was always constructive and directed in private. She pushed them and pushed them again, but in a way that earned respect, not resentment. She was the first to rise and the last to bed, and if she drove them hard, she drove herself harder.
He was learning, too. Although he had taken command some years before, he had no practical experience in leading an army. The Pyros military, composed as it was of mostly volunteer,
part-time soldiers, was far too democratic a group, in Jeena's estimation. Battle was no time to try and forge a consensus. Orders needed to be given and immediately followed, or lost lives were the usual result.
David had a tendency to give suggestions rather than orders, and to explain his reasoning in detail. Jeena slowly broke him of this, and to his surprise—but not hers—the company admired him more for it.
* * * *
Even with the time needed for training, the company moved quickly, covering more than half the distance by the seventeenth day. On that day, their maneuvers came to an abrupt halt.
"You've done wonders with them in such a short time,” David observed. They were watching as the company practiced spearheading into an enemy line, driving a wedge to separate them then sweeping around to attack the flanks. They carried out the move with fluid precision.
"They've done it themselves,” Jeena said. “You should be proud. Your people have worked hard and done all that I've asked of them."
"I notice we've only been practicing with swords and spears. Are you just trying to save ammunition, or do you have other plans in mind?"
"Both. As well as your people have performed, I've been thinking we'd be better off using them as pure cavalry. Carbines shot from charging mounts aren't particularly effective. It would make more sense to create a separate rifle unit out of some of Uruk's foot soldiers. You think your people would mind parting with their rifles?"
He smiled. “I doubt most of these people have ever fired a gun. We only recently acquired them, and ammunition has always been in short supply. They're comfortable with sword fighting; you won't have any trouble getting them to give up their rifles."
"Good. And by the way, you need to find better smugglers. These weapons have to be fifty years old, at least."
"No, really? But we were assured they were practically state of the art."
A scout came galloping hard from the west. David had sent outriders soon after leaving Pyros—he had taken Jeena at her word that Jacob was moving and did not want to run into the Rosh-dan accidentally. He had no delusions about who would win that encounter.
"Riders!” the girl gasped, pointing back to from where she had come.
"It's okay, Sarah, calm down,” he said. “How many were there?"
"Three. Heading south."
"And you're sure they were Rosh-dan?” Jeena asked.
"Positive. There's no mistaking those dark clothes and long beards. I saw no sign of an army. They were moving quickly but not galloping."
Jeena leapt up on her kytar.
"It's a point patrol. The main army can't be more than a day behind them. David, assemble the company. The race has begun."
When the troops were mounted and assembled, she addressed them.
"Our timetable has been moved up. I'm sorry, I realize you could use more training but that will have to wait. If we ride hard we can make Uruk in ten days. It will mean few rests and little sleep. Both you and the kytars will be exhausted by the time we arrive, but we must reach the city before the Rosh-dan. So, gird yourselves, and let's ride."
* * * *
Samson closed his eyes. The wound to his chest was no longer painful, but he would carry the evidence of his folly for the rest of his life.
He had roamed the wastes for days following the attack, trying to determine what had gone wrong. That his species was telepathic could no longer be denied, as was his certainty that it was his attempt at communication that had somehow caused the rage he had witnessed.
But why? He had only been sending a message of friendship.
The realization slowly dawned on him that perhaps it was the nature of the message, and not the message itself, that was the problem.
I'm too human. I'm not sure even Jeena realizes how much. I can connect with them, but my mind is not like theirs. Language, reason—they've wired my brain in a human pattern. I was trying to project an idea, but like humans, I can't form an idea without putting words to it. Even though they, too, were once aware, cognizant thought is beyond them for now.
But something had to set them off. If they can't grasp the complexity in my cortex, what could they understand?
The answer was quick in coming—the limbus. In his attempts to establish the telepathic link, the tigras had been unable to interpret the ideas of his higher prefrontal brain centers, and so had followed the pathway to the complex group of interconnected structures controlling his emotions—the limbic system.
It must have been overwhelming, the complex emotions so alien to them yet so powerful: love, empathy, longing. Yet some they must have understood. Fear? Yes. Anger, too, after a fashion.
And hate? Can an animal hate? Perhaps not, but I can, and hate fuels my anger. How much hate for the Rosh-dan do I have? More than I will admit. And self-hatred? Yes, that, too. No wonder they went mad.
Into the depths of this emotional maelstrom, unfiltered by his reasoning centers, the tigras had fallen. Fear, pain and hunger had fairly defined the extent of tigra emotional capacity for millennia, and they were unable to process this flood of information. So, they latched onto what was familiar—anger, aggression, rage.
All the ugly emotions I try to suppress, and it possessed them. They fought not as animals but as men would fight—to the death.
He realized now that if there was any hope in reaching the tigras through this telepathic link, he would have to find a way to control and negate his negative feelings, even those buried deep in his subconscious.
He worked mentally through all the information he had studied on Jeena's ship and was pleased to recall many techniques in what was called self-hypnosis. Humans had apparently been very interested in controlling this aspect of themselves as well. But would any of the methods work well enough? And if not, could he survive another failed attempt?
He did not ponder the question for long.
Either I find a way to reach them in this way, or I return to Pyros in defeat and leave them to their doom.
For days he practiced the remembered lessons, slowly working through the panoply of emotions that churned within him. He did not try to suppress the negative feelings, for that would take them out of his control. Rather he learned to separate them. Those he wished to keep from the tigras he set aside, mentally locking them away in a place only he could open with a specific thought—a keyword.
He felt his mood lightening as the dark thoughts were contained, and his confidence grew. But it was one thing to have power over his own mind. Would he be strong enough to prevent another from reaching into what he held hidden?
There was only one way to find out.
* * * *
He sat in a clearing near the forest edge, his eyes closed. He did not try to send a message this time, not yet. For now he simply allowed himself to feel at peace. He pictured himself and another tigra, sitting together in the grass. The morning came and went, yet he was in no hurry.
Suddenly, he heard a rustle and opened his eyes with a start. Near him lay a tigra male, his eyes half-closed, resting lazily in the noonday sun.
Chapter 21
Ibru: n. Term describing the bonding ceremony between members of the Babylonian cult. The actual nature of this bond, or its legality in the union, has not been firmly established.
Encyclopedic History of the Union, 22nd ed.
Once more Jeena was amazed at the willingness and discipline of the Pyros army. These were for the most part farmers and tradesmen, not soldiers, and yet they rode as hard and uncomplaining as any veteran troops.
David was equally impressive. He rode throughout the ranks, helping and encouraging them in any way he could. It seemed to her he was thinner than at the outset of their journey, and yet he appeared harder and stronger, his once-pale skin now shining with a healthy glow.
On the afternoon of the tenth day of their breakneck ride, the walls of Uruk rose before them. Jeena slowed the galloping cavalry and had them ride in formation as they reached the open field before the city
gates. They would enter Uruk as an army, not a mob.
The walls of the city gleamed in the rays of the setting sun. They were built of shimmering white stone and were not as high as those of New Jerusalem. In the center of the wall was a large iron gate, with two smaller entrances on either side. Flanking the main gate were two huge stone tigras, their right paws raised in benevolent welcome.
The roofs of several ornate buildings could be seen beyond the wall—churches perhaps, or temples of some kind. To the east lay a thick wood of birch-like trees, and to the west she could just make out the reflection off a large lake.
Horns sounded from the walls as they approached. The center gate was opened, and they entered to the cheers and garlands of a gathered crowd. People were lined up in the plaza, shouting and screaming encouragement as they passed. Some threw confetti from balconies of nearby buildings.
Jeena was grim as they led the army into the plaza, but David smiled and waved to the ecstatic crowd, obviously enjoying the adulation.
"I didn't expect this kind of welcome,” he shouted over the noise. “It's quite remarkable, isn't it?"
"Don't let it go to your head,” she shouted back. “We haven't done anything yet."
She observed that clothing in the city of Uruk came in two styles—little or none. She had heard from Mordachi of the Babylonians’ penchant for nudity but was unprepared for the reality of the sea of bare flesh that pressed around her.
A clear area had been kept in the center of the plaza, where a small greeting party awaited them at the far end of a red carpet. In the forefront stood an aged woman, silver-haired and lined of face but dressed in a shimmering gown of translucent material that flowed around her like water. On her head she wore a thin band of silver, a red stone set in its center, and in her hands she carried a golden scepter in the form of a nude woman.
Jeena and David dismounted and walked along the carpet to the waiting dignitaries as the crowd continued to cheer. Behind the elderly woman were several men and a woman, in stances that made it clear they were military. They all wore a kind of kilt made of many leather straps, and sandals laced to their knees, but were naked from the waist up.