Tigra

  "Captain Garza will take command as General of the Army. Under her, I will command the Babylonian forces and David the cavalry of Pyros. Ghannon, you will lead the first rifle line."

  Ghannon frowned. He carried a scar that ran from his neck to his stomach, a souvenir of his capture and torture by the Rosh-dan. He had been on a scouting mission three years before, and they had come upon him unawares. For two weeks he had endured their methods of extracting information—methods, Jeena noted darkly, little different from those she had suffered at the hands of the Coalition.

  In the end he had feigned unconsciousness. As they dragged him to his cell he made his escape, killing both guards in the process. He was the toughest of all the Babylonian warriors, and his hatred of the Rosh-dan ran deep.

  "I mean no offense, Captain, but I am against this. One of our own should lead."

  "No offense taken,” Jeena replied.

  "I do not doubt your military expertise, but you are not one of us. You cannot know the depth of feeling we have for our home, or the hatred for those who would destroy us. Hard decisions will soon have to be made, sacrifices you may not be willing to make. We in this room would gladly die for Uruk. Can you say the same?"

  Jeena looked at the other commanders, who stood silent, also waiting for her reply.

  "It's true I'm an outsider. I know almost nothing of your city or your people,” she answered slowly, “but my hatred of the Rosh-dan runs as deep as yours. I don't give a damn about glory or command. All I care about is destroying Jacob and his army. For me, this is personal. If defeating the Rosh-dan means giving up my life, then I will do so—gladly."

  "The decision is made, Ghannon,” Selanja said. “General Garza will command."

  He nodded curtly.

  David studied the map.

  "I still don't like the idea of my cavalry having to come all the way from the east wall. That's a lot of ground to cover in the heat of battle. What about using this thick wooded area here on the eastern flank?"

  "We discussed that, but the underbrush is too heavy. The kytars would become entangled,” Jeena answered.

  "Couldn't we clear out an area behind the trees, large enough to hold the cavalry? Halamesh, what do you think?"

  Halamesh scratched his chin. “It could be done. We have the manpower. It would certainly bring you closer to the main battle site."

  "But can you keep the kytars from bolting once I start firing the MAAD?” Jeena asked. “There will be a lot of noise and wind."

  "Yes, I believe so,” David replied. “We'll have the riders dismount and hold the animals down on their flanks. They should be less affected by the blasts and easier to handle that way."

  "Then let it be done,” Selanja said. “Are you all comfortable with the signals? Remember to listen closely to the communicators that Captain—I mean General—Garza will supply. We need to time our movements carefully, particularly when her weapon is firing."

  Jeena had given them all a graphic description of what the blast from a MAAD would do to human flesh, and none of them wanted to make the mistake of being in the way when it went off.

  Their plan depended on precise timing. They would face the enemy initially from behind a barricaded front a mile from the city gates. Here they would place ten thousand rifles under Ghannon's command to soften up the anticipated charge of Rosh-dan and hold them off for as long as possible.

  When they could do no more, Selanja would order a slow retreat to the second line. Once Ghannon's men were safely past, Jeena and the second line of five thousand artillerymen would open up. This, Jeena hoped, would be the deciding period. If, between the rifles and the MAAD, she could inflict enough casualties it might trigger a panic. In that case, they would push forward, driving the enemy back, with David's cavalry squeezing them from the east and Sargon's main army coming up from behind.

  If resistance turned out to be greater than anticipated, the second line would also retreat, while Sargon's forces surged forward into battle. At that point David's cavalry would be called out to drive a wedge into the mass of Rosh-dan, breaking them up and allowing the foot soldiers to penetrate the enemy lines. If the worst came to pass then Ghannon's riflemen, now on the city walls, would provide covering fire for Sargon and his retreating army.

  When all were safely behind the walls, Halamesh would spring their surprise.

  Although she had helped Jeena devise the plan, Selanja was least happy with it, for it called on her to remain on the wall and direct the battle below by way of the communicators.

  She argued one more time to be allowed to lead an army division.

  "I am a soldier,” she said again. “I wish to fight, not observe."

  "You will not be observing, you will be ordering the movement of all the troops,” Jeena reiterated. “I need someone up there who can gauge the flow of battle and make critical decisions at crucial moments. If you do your job right you'll save more of your own men then you would take of the enemy—or doesn't that matter to you?"

  Selanja's face reddened.

  All right, so it was a rotten thing to say, but it made her see how important her job is. The truth is, I should be directing the fighting, but I don't trust anyone else to wield the MAAD. She has a brilliant head for strategy. I need her up there.

  "Very well then,” Selanja agreed. “It will be as you say ... General. Our scouts should be returning soon with the enemy's exact location. Until then, let the commanders go and prepare their troops. We will reconvene at a later time."

  The men saluted and left, leaving Jeena and Selanja to go over some small logistical matters. Selanja noticed Jeena fingering her impe and asked her about it.

  "It was given to me as part of my initiation into the Intawa tribe,” she replied. “Are you familiar with them?"

  "In name only, from the people of Pyros. It is beautiful.” She looked closely at the small metallic stones in the necklace. “These are the p'toc, the trading stones, are they not?"

  "Trading stones?"

  "Yes. At least, they fit the description from the Pyros traders. They came to us searching for them, but we have never found any in this area. Apparently, they trade with the Intawa for them and use them to pay the smugglers for the items they need."

  Jeena looked again at the silvery stones around her neck. Of what material were they that smugglers would want them? She decided she would ask David about it when she got the chance.

  * * * *

  Two days passed, and there was still no word from the scouts. Selanja had invited David and Jeena to review the Babylonian troops with her, and both were impressed by their skill at arms and their general physical conditioning. Selanja explained that athleticism was highly encouraged in Babylonian society. Those children who showed interest and ability in the military were given more specific training and allowed to join the Temple of Anil on a trial basis.

  As they reviewed the troops, Selanja explained the philosophy on which Babylonian life was based.

  The lives of the Babylonians, they learned, revolved around the temples. These were religious houses dedicated to the veneration of a particular deity, as well as a kind of social club for people with similar interests and aptitudes. There were many temples, reflecting the pantheism of Babylonian culture; each god represented a particular facet of human life. Shamash was the God of Wisdom, and his followers included scientists and diplomats. Bacchus was the God of Wine for whom the fields before the city gates were named, and to whom the vintners looked to protect their crops. Anil represented physical strength and skill in battle, and those who earned the right to wear the sword were considered masters of the military arts.

  There were many others, some with large followings and some composed only of a few individuals, yet each was given honor and respect.

  Above all, however, stood Ishtar. Her temple set the tone and pace of the entire Confederacy, and she was the patron of the city of Uruk.

  "Specifically, Ishtar is the personification of sex and passion,
and yet in a larger sense she is representative of all human relations,” Selanja explained. “The way in which we Babylonians relate to each other, as well as to the world at large, is directly influenced by the teachings of her temple. We place little emphasis on possession in our society, either in material things or in our relationships with others, something you may have already observed."

  David blushed. “Yes, I've noticed. Yours is certainly a very open society. I take it you don't believe in marriage, then?"

  "Most couples who choose to bond do so in the ibru ceremony. I'm sorry, but there is no adequate translation. Marriage, however, is not uncommon among us, though in neither case do we practice monogamy in your sense of the word."

  "My sense of the word? Is there another sense?"

  "We think so,” she replied, smiling. “To us it is far more important to bond as soul-mates. Once one has become ibru to another, the bond is lifelong—more so, since it transcends death. To us sex is not the same as love. It is simply a gift, one we may share with friends—our word is tappu—as we wish, openly and freely."

  When the review was over, they excused themselves and headed for the mess. David shook his head as they made their way. While Jeena had lived and worked in the loose moral code of the Corps, he was finding it difficult to abandon a lifetime of more rigid social rules.

  The Babylonians had welcomed the Pyros army with open arms—in some cases literally—and many had responded in kind. Much of his company had enthusiastically taken up the local customs, and went about in various stages of undress, something Jeena pointed out.

  "Really? I hadn't noticed,” he replied. “Oh, all right, so I've noticed,” he admitted, catching her look. “As long as they're correctly outfitted when the battle call comes I'm allowing them to dress—or not—as they like."

  "Very forward-thinking of you."

  "Don't be patronizing. I know you consider me one step beyond a Neanderthal.” He glanced at the men and women of his command, who were milling around in the mess. “But they have hard days ahead of them. I won't interfere with any happiness and pleasure they can find until then. Some have even begun to make noises about wanting to stay after this is all over—assuming there is an after, of course. If the Babylonians have no objections, I'll leave the choice of returning to them."

  "Not bad for a caveman. I think you're evolving."

  "You think so? Well, then, what about you? Any thought to what you'll do when this is all over?"

  "Not really,” she said. “I still don't have a way to safely contact the Union. If and when I do I imagine I'll be placed back on active status, once they've determined I'm healthy enough to still fight. Not that anyone seriously expects to see me again."

  "I can understand why, from what you've told me about the prison. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you—how did you ever manage to escape?"

  "A Union commando squad raided Mizar 3. I still don't know why. We don't attack prison planets—not important enough. Maybe they thought it was a fuel depot or some other strategic target. They seemed pretty intent on destroying the whole place. Anyway, one of the explosions ripped a hole in my cell."

  David grinned. “And knowing you, you were out before the rubble had even settled."

  Her eyes glazed over at the memory. “No, not really. I was so weak and ... lost in my mind. I just lay there in the mud looking through the hole, not even considering escape. Then something inside of me snapped. I don't know where I got the strength, but suddenly I was clawing at the wall toward the opening. Supply ships had landed just before the raid and were still on the tarmac waiting to lift off."

  "I see. And so you borrowed one?” he said.

  "Not right away. No, first I had to find the guard-sergeant."

  He nodded. She had told him something of the sadistic guard who had been her tormentor, and it had enraged him.

  "I hope you found him."

  "Yes, I did."

  She could still see him beneath her, the knife plunging into his chest again and again...

  "Whatever he got he deserved,” David said. “I can't imagine the horrors you must have lived through."

  Jeena stared silently into her coffee.

  "I had a child,” she whispered finally.

  He felt his blood go cold.

  "A girl. I only got a glimpse before...” She closed her eyes.

  "Oh, Jeena..."

  "Stupid. I was so stupid not to take the permanent contraceptive the Union offered. I don't even know if they buried her."

  He could do nothing but stare at her in pity.

  After several minutes she took a deep breath and looked up, glancing around the mess.

  "It looks like your people are leaving."

  "What? Yes. Well, I, uh ... I'm going over to the barracks to give them a little pep talk. Care to join me?"

  "No, David, you go. I'll catch up with you later. Go on, I'll be fine,” she added, seeing him hesitate.

  * * * *

  The mess was empty. She alternated between the coffee and the cigar until both were gone then laid her head in her hands. Hers was more than just the strain of the last few weeks; it was a weariness beyond the body.

  I'm so tired. I just want to go home.

  The strangeness of the desire took her by surprise. By any definition of the word, she had never had a home, nor could she ever recall wanting one. A soldier's only home was whatever base she was presently assigned to. That was the way the Union wanted it, and it was pounded into the soldier's psyche from the first day of recruitment. A home, any home, led to thoughts of return, and that led to distractions; distractions led to mistakes; mistakes ultimately led to fatalities. Having never had a real home, distractions were something Jeena never had to worry about.

  No, no distractions ever encroached on my life. No memories of family or friends haunted my dreams, softening me, making me lose my edge. Never let them get close, wasn't that my motto? Don't learn their names; don't look into their eyes; don't feel.

  Suddenly, an image appeared in her mind unwanted, a golden face with large gold-speckled eyes. Jeena shut her own eyes tight, her hands balling into fists. No! Go away. Just go away!

  The image slowly faded.

  She opened her eyes and frantically wiped away tears she hadn't been aware she was shedding.

  "Stay out of my head, dammit,” she muttered. “You're dead. You're dead, and there's nothing I can do for you now."

  * * * *

  She returned to her apartment and was resting when the call came that Selanja wanted to see them all in the war room. Halamesh was the last to enter and took his seat around the map-table.

  "I will make this brief,” the muscular woman began. “Two of the scouts have returned. The third has not, and we fear the worst. David, she was one of yours, was she not?"

  "Yes, Sarah,” he answered, and Jeena saw his eyes were red and swollen. Sarah was his first casualty as a commander. There would be many more.

  "I am sorry,” Selanja said, and then grew stern. “It is as we feared. The scouts report that the army of the Rosh-dan will reach the Bacchian Fields in two days. General, it seems your estimation of their numbers was wholly accurate. Half a million men are marching on Uruk."

  The commanders exchanged anxious glances.

  "Is there anything you would like to add?” she asked Jeena.

  "Just this,” she said, standing. “I have always found that the hardest part of war is the waiting. Keep active with your people. Let the troops see you. Our plans are drawn and we are well prepared. That is all."

  She pulled David aside as they left.

  "I'm sorry about Sarah."

  "We were ... we knew each other. I know her family."

  "Your men will want to speak with you. You need to go to them now."

  He straightened, nodding stiffly, and strode out to meet his company.

  Selanja stopped her in the hallway.

  "The regent left a message asking that you see her in the palace. Sh
e wishes to speak with you."

  "Did she remember where we met before?” she joked.

  "Do not underestimate her, Jeena. She is more than she seems. She is the head priestess and chief shimhatu of the Temple of Ishtar. That means little to you, I know, but she has power and abilities that may surprise you."

  "Jacob called her a witch."

  "So I have heard,” she said. “Well, you will have to make up your own mind. Go to her and listen closely to what she says."

  Jeena found the regent in her private apartments in the temple; she lay on a cushioned table as two shimhatu massaged her with scented oils. She smiled on seeing Jeena enter and motioned for her to sit near her.

  "If my timing is inconvenient..."

  "No, not at all,” she replied. She sat up and dismissed the two women then led Jeena to the balcony overlooking the city. “Ours is a beautiful city, is it not?"

  "Yes, it is. Very beautiful."

  "And yet a city is more than buildings of stone and mortar. A city is a reflection of the people in it, a statement of their way of life and the commonality that binds them. Uruk is not its temples or its paved streets of marble, it is its people. It is their way of life that we defend against the Rosh-dan."

  "I understand, Regent."

  "Do you? I wonder if one who has never set down roots can truly understand the depth of love we feel for Uruk."

  "Why do you say that?” she asked defensively.

  "My dear, I mean no disrespect, but that much of your past would be obvious even to a priestess of the first rank. You carry the mark of a loner on your soul like a scar. But I will not deceive you. Most of what I know concerning you was in the communiqué from Mordachi in Pyros."

  "I see. Well, as I'm leading your army, I suppose you're entitled to know a certain amount about me.'

  Elaina smiled. “I'm sorry, but I find the reticence of the young quite amusing."

  "I'm not so young anymore."