Tigra

  Jeena could now hear the hoofs of galloping kytars approaching. Through the barricade she saw dark shapes rushing towards them. Instinctively, she raised her pulse rifle.

  "Don't shoot!’ Halamesh cried, throwing himself in front of her.

  A kytar suddenly leapt over the barricade, followed by a second, and then a third. Their riders wheeled the animals around as they reared and snorted, full of fire from the race. All the riders were clad in the coarse dark clothes of the Rosh-dan.

  The lead rider spun his animal around and threw back his hood.

  "Sargon!” Jeena cried.

  The other two followed suit and Jeena stared in angry disbelief as she beheld David and Ghannon. She was about to curse them all when a figure sitting hitherto unseen behind David suddenly slumped and fell from the mount. Jeena rushed over as Halamesh brought a lamp to the rider's face. It was Sarah.

  "Halamesh, bring up a cart. Now!” Jeena ordered.

  In an instant, two men appeared and lifted Sarah onto a small wagon then raced with all speed to the hospital.

  Jeena now turned her attention to her three commanders.

  "I thought I gave specific orders not to attempt a raid.” she snapped.

  They stood silent with eyes downcast.

  "I am to blame,” confessed David. “I wouldn't let it go."

  Sargon stepped forward. “No, we all agreed to this."

  "Did you? And my orders meant nothing? Don't you think I wanted to rescue her?” she asked, looking from man to man. “But dammit, we can't risk the entire city! The whole war could have been compromised because of your actions. It killed me to leave her there, but ... but..."

  Her voice broke, and she turned away, her eyes stinging.

  Sargon spoke. “Forgive us, General, but we knew you could not order the raid, although your heart may have wished it. David confided in me of his true relationship with Sarah, and for the sake of their love we formed our band. We knew that had you not had the burden of command you would have led us yourself."

  "We have disobeyed a direct order, and that is inexcusable,” Ghannon added, “but we do not leave our people to torment. That, perhaps, is different in the world from which you come."

  He stood before her, chastened but firm. He alone among them had suffered the torture of the Rosh-dan inquisitors, and knew firsthand what they would do to the girl. He could not have allowed her to remain in their hands, even at the risk of his own life.

  And Jeena knew Sargon was right as well. How I wish I had led the raid myself!

  She looked sternly at them all.

  "If any one of you had been killed, the defense of the whole Confederacy would have been compromised, perhaps fatally. Had any of you considered that?"

  They diverted their eyes from her gaze, a clear indication that, in their haste to achieve their aim, that possibility had not crossed their minds. She let them stew uncomfortably for several minutes before speaking again.

  "But you were not killed. Apparently, the gods of Babylon protect fools and heroes, for you are all both. What you did was rash, but brave. I'm proud of you all. But if you ever disobey an order of mine again..."

  They all broke out in simultaneous and vigorous protest of the impossibility of such an event, swearing oaths of future obedience with such fervor she had to smile.

  "And you,” she said to David, “have a couple of hours till dawn. Go to her. Be with her while you can, since you've gone to so much trouble to bring her here."

  Grinning broadly, he jumped on his mount and galloped into the city.

  "As for you three,” she said, turning back toward the others. “Let's find that coffee. I want to hear how the hell you managed to pull this off."

  * * * *

  David sat with Sarah in the city hospital. Her body bore terrible wounds, but these had been treated and dressed. There were sophisticated instruments connected to her head and chest, medical equipment the Pyros physicians had obtained over the years from trade with smugglers. Although Uruk had fine healers, they did not have the benefit of the modern medical advances available to the Pyros physicians.

  There had been some grumbling, but Jeena had placed the Pyros team in charge of the wounded. She wanted the best care her people could get—egos be damned.

  "She is in shock,” the doctor informed him. “She has suffered a mild concussion, superficial burns and several broken ribs, not to mention dehydration, but she should recover fully."

  David thanked him profusely.

  "The Babylonian physicians have an interesting salve made of local herbs we are using to treat the burns. Stinks to high heaven, but I've seen the results on others—very impressive."

  With the doctor's consent, David sat for a time at her side, holding her hand and speaking softly to her. In time, her eyes fluttered open.

  "David...” she said weakly.

  "Yes, I'm here. You're safe now. You're in a hospital in Uruk. You'll be well soon."

  "I thought it was a nightmare. I was in a horrible place. I called for you, but you weren't there. I thought you had forgotten me."

  "Never."

  "Then I had a dream you rescued me, but it wasn't a dream. I really am here with you, aren't I."

  "Yes, Sarah,” he said as her eyes closed. “And I swear I will never leave you again."

  * * * *

  David rode back to the barricades just before light as Jeena was handing out the communicators.

  "They are old and simple devices, but they're the best we have."

  Selanja studied hers curiously, turning it over in her hands. It looked like a thick black necklace.

  "Put it around your neck like so,” Jeena demonstrated, “and put this piece in your ear. Now touch this switch. These are voice-activated and have been tuned to the same frequency, so we'll all be able to hear one another. Once the battle begins there will be a lot of noise, so listen carefully, and don't everyone try to talk at once."

  She watched as they each repeated her instructions, checking each instrument to ensure it worked.

  "All right, everybody get into position. David, Selanja—let's mount up."

  They rode out slowly, Jeena in the center and wearing the Babylonian headdress as before. Three riders met them at the parley site. Besides Esau, Jeena recognized a second man as a member of the Elder Council. Between them sat Jacob on his mount, menacing and grim.

  They stared at each other in icy silence, finally broken by Jacob.

  "I do not see the regent among thee,” he observed dryly.

  "The regent has business of state to attend, and sends her regrets,” Selanja answered.

  Jacob laughed mirthlessly. “Does she now? And so in her stead she sends her lackeys to face us. Very well. Thy witch may hide a bit longer behind her walls, for all the good it will do her.” He looked over the three, his gaze settling on the silver mountain emblazed on David's chest plate. “Thou dost not wear the sign of Babylon."

  "No."

  Jacob squinted, studying David's face. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

  "Apostate!"

  David remained silent.

  "I see. Well, well, so we find thee at last. The long years have not dimmed our memory of thy treachery. And now the prodigal children return at last only to wage war against their fathers. I should have expected no less of traitors. Perhaps it is better so, for now we will not have to go in search of thee after we have defeated the infidel."

  "We fight against the tyranny of demagogues, who would use their beliefs to enslave others,” David replied.

  "Speak to me not of beliefs, thou who has none! Thou art of a banished people, lost from God. Pray tell me, after all these years, hast thou found what thou were looking for? Hast thee found comfort in thy cold science? I think not. But such is the fate of those who would turn from God. Thy science will not save thee, and thy destruction will be thy reward.” He straightened in his saddle. “The time for speech is ended. How does the regent answer?"

  "Her answer is this
,” Jeena replied. “You and all your army trespass on Babylonian soil. To raise an army of aggression is in violation of Union law, and of your charter. You are hereby ordered to remove yourselves to your own lands. Fail to do so, and you and all of your followers will be destroyed. Of your demands, we recognize none."

  Jacob peered into the darkness of her helmet.

  "So, thou art the leader here? I tell thee, thy threats are idle. Thou hast not the strength to withstand the Army of God. Why dost thee hide thy face? Thy voice is familiar to me. Show thyself, if thou be not afraid."

  Jeena hesitated for just a moment, then reached up and removed her helmet.

  Jacob reared back as though he had been struck, his face twisting into a snarl. Esau cried out and drew his sword, spurring his mount toward her.

  She drew the pulse rifle.

  "Do it, Esau! Come and meet your God as a cloud of dust!"

  Jacob grabbed the reins of Esau's kytar, holding him back.

  "Nay, stay thy wrath!” He glared at her. “So, thou hast found the idolaters. Surely, I spoke in truth—thou art now truly the Whore of Babylon."

  "And where is thy Beast, whom thou didst live with in most unnatural wickedness?” asked Esau. “Be assured thou canst not hide him. He shall be found, and his death will not be quick."

  Jeena gritted her teeth. “I know the truth about the tigras, Jacob. I know of their civilization that existed here, and of your people's tampering with CAIO and the Five-Year Survey. I know it all. It's over."

  Jacob laughed. It was a high-pitched, maniacal cackle, frightening to hear.

  "Pray tell me why so? Is it thy intention to report my activities to the Union? Oh, but wait, thou cannot. Not that it matters. Justice belongs to the just, and just is our cause. Or dost thou truly believe thy one weapon can defeat the Army of God?

  "No, Captain, thou should have stayed in space, flying thy little ship. Thou hast entangled thyself in affairs beyond thy comprehension. I am afraid the Union will have to win its Civil War without any further assistance from thee. Thy time, and that of all of thee, has come to an end."

  With a cry, he spurred his mount and, shouting to the others, galloped back to their encampment.

  "Get back to the barricades!” Jeena cried. “David, get your cavalry to the clearing. Selanja, to the wall."

  She spurred her mount and sped back to the first line. A section was moved aside as she and the others raced through then replaced.

  "Are the men ready?” she asked Ghannon.

  "Yes, all are in position."

  "Good. Hold your fire until they are within range. Make them remember this day!"

  She spun her kytar around and raced toward the city. At the second line she jumped off her mount and slapped its flanks, sending it galloping toward the walls. The second line was already kneeling in firing position. She donned her helmet and flipped the pulse rifle on.

  "Stand ready!” she shouted down the line. “Hold your fire till my signal!” She spoke into the communicator. “Talk to me, Ghannon. What do you see?"

  "An ocean,” he said calmly. “And it is about to break upon us."

  Jeena looked at the ground beneath her. The loose dirt trembled from the pounding of men and kytars as they rushed the front lines. She stared down the line. Her men could feel it, too. She could hear Ghannon shouting orders to his troops, his deep voice echoing in her ear.

  "Hold your fire! Hold!"

  The trembling increased as the sound of the approaching enemy grew loud in her ear.

  "Steady now ... steady!” Ghannon shouted.

  Jeena involuntarily held her breath.

  "Fire!” he screamed.

  She jumped at the roar of ten thousand automatic rifles firing at once.

  Although ammo was precious, she wanted the Rosh-dan's first experience with modern weapons to be memorable, so the front line had received the lion's share of the ammunition. Her line was to fire on semi-automatic only, but then, they had the MAAD.

  Ten thousand guns rained bullets into the charging mass of the enemy, and she waited for a signal from Ghannon. The gunfire seemed to go on forever—a continuous thunder of weapons-fire. Through her earpiece, she could hear Ghannon shouting orders, firming up sections of his line and directing runners to distribute the ammunition.

  Finally he spoke to her.

  "They're pushing through! We'll have to...” His voice fizzled.

  "Piece of shit,” she cursed, and slammed her fist into the side of her helmet. The hissing stopped. “Say again, Ghannon."

  "We are moving back. They are coming in fast ... cutting down ... not stopping them."

  "Pull back,” she ordered. “Keep it orderly. Continue to fire as you retreat."

  "Understood."

  Jeena shouted down her line. “All right, the first line is retreating. They'll be coming through in a hurry. No one fire until I give the signal—remember, those are your people out there."

  In the distance, they saw the first of Ghannon's men appear over the ridge; the gunfire was now deafeningly close. Soon, the entire first line was before them; and coming up behind them, the main body of the Rosh-dan army, a sea of men spanning the width of the Bacchian Fields, a scant five hundred yards away. They were moving fast, their voices raised in a cry.

  Jeena hit the switch on the butt of the MAAD and a high whine began.

  "Let them through!” she ordered as the first of Ghannon's men ran past them. They would continue on to the city to take their place on the wall under Selanja's command. More and more ran by—almost ten thousand men—and behind them a host of almost half a million.

  As the last stragglers ran past, she gave the command.

  "Fire!"

  A hail of bullets exploded into the wall of humanity before them. Men on kytars—the charging cavalry of the Rosh-dan—fell in a hideous mass, only to be overrun by the troops behind. The first line had decimated the Rosh-dan's first cavalry charge, and now Jeena's men finished the job. Still the main force of foot soldiers continued their suicidal advance.

  Jeena sprayed the field with her pulse rifle, the high-velocity projectiles tearing through the body of the first victim before continuing on to strike a second, and sometimes a third. Yet nothing seemed to slow them—they ran over their dead comrades without so much as a look.

  The whine of the MAAD stopped. Bracing herself, Jeena triggered the cannon. Once again the awesome power of the weapon was unleashed. The explosion ripped into the advancing line, obliterating the flesh of the charging wall of men.

  Before her, where once had stood a thousand Rosh-dan, was now only an open swath of ground extending a hundred yards deep. Few bodies would ever be found in that space, and of those, none would ever be identified. Jeena's hands tingled and her ears rang. The whine began again.

  The rushing mass hesitated at first, uncertain in the face of the power of the MAAD, then ran to fill the space left vacant by their dead brethren, advancing once again. The rifles cut down their ranks. The whine of the recharge stopped, and Jeena fired again, and again a thousand souls disappeared into a cloud of oily dust.

  Still the enemy came.

  Jeena was horrified at Jacob's disregard for the death she was inflicting on his men. Again and again she fired, and with each blast of the cannon, the shockwave turned thousands of Rosh-dan into a fine spray that splattered over the nearby survivors. Many of these soldiers were completely covered in the sticky brown liquid, yet still they came. Sargon had been right—they were fighting an army of madmen.

  Amazingly, the Rosh-dan were able to hold the line despite the carnage around them, but slowly they began to waver. Some of the units had slowed their assault, unwilling to face this unknown and seemingly inhuman weapon. Others had stopped advancing altogether.

  Then, just as Jeena thought they would turn back, disaster struck. She fired the cannon—and nothing happened. She pulled the trigger repeatedly without effect.

  "Jeena, what is wrong?” asked Selanja's voice in her
ear.

  "The MAAD is down!” she screamed. She was covered in sweat and dirt, and both ears rang painfully. A trickle of blood ran from each. She examined the power meter on the weapon—it was low, but not empty. She flipped over to the pulse rifle. It, too, was inoperable.

  The Rosh-dan army, on the brink of retreat a moment ago, now felt the tide turn. The unholy explosions, which had vaporized men like a blast of God's breath, had stopped. With a cry, they renewed their attack in earnest, throwing themselves against the spitting guns.

  "Sargon, I have to pull back,” Jeena shouted into the communicator. “Advance the main force.” She turned to her men. “Pull back! Keep firing and retreat!"

  "...again, General. Say again,” came Sargon's voice.

  "Advance! Advance!” she screamed, cursing the communicators, the smugglers and anyone who had helped build the antique junk.

  Her retreat was rapid and organized, with Jeena able to do little but direct the line back to the wall. She continued to shake and prod the MAAD, cursing it as well. Behind them the main body of the Rosh-dan army came rushing forward.

  "David, the MAAD is down. We've had to move the main force in early."

  "Yes, I heard,” he crackled in her ear. “How bad is it?"

  "We hurt them, but not as much as I had hoped. The plan stays the same—be ready to move on Selanja's orders."

  Selanja stood high on the city wall, monitoring the battle. She was to relay information to Sargon and David concerning the pitch of battle and advise them on where to best engage the enemy. When she had determined that the army had done all it could, she was to signal their retreat while at the same time releasing David and his cavalry from their hidden clearing.

  Jeena's second rifle line raced toward the safety of the city walls as Sargon and his men rushed past to engage the Rosh-dan. She dropped to her knees and threw off her helmet. As the war raged in front of her, she broke down the MAAD as quickly as she could.

  "Jeena, what are you doing?” asked Selanja. “Get back to the gates."

  She could hear the clash of the two great armies and Sargon shouting commands. There was the ring of steel meeting steel and cries of agony as men attacked each other with swords and knives.