Tides of War (Rebellion Book 3)

by M. R. Forbes

  He fired again, not wasting any time. He could feel the heat rise in the cockpit as his mech spewed another stream of energy at the tank. It was another direct hit, and it left the tank slagged and silent.

  "Rebel Two, how are you holding up back there?" Donovan asked, dropping his mech as another blast passed over him.

  "These pilots are druk. I am not surprised. They are carrying the sigil of Fior'el."

  "That sounds good for us."

  "It is very good for us, Major. Fior'el is from a low cell. This may be his entire militarized pool."

  "You're saying he sent his whole army after us?"

  "There is a great reward waiting for whichever pur'dahm destroys us. It is a dangerous risk on his part, but worth it, I suppose. I am more concerned with the fact that he knew where we were hiding. It should not have been possible."

  "Let's get ourselves safe first, and then we can figure that out."

  "Yes, Major."

  Donovan unleashed another plasma beam at the scattering tanks, hitting a second as it tried to reverse course. "Take that," he said as it began to smoke. He glanced at his HUD. Soon was holding his own, having already destroyed four of the tanks to his two. Damn, he was good.

  He rotated his torso, seeking another target.

  A ball of plasma hit his right arm. The impact of it almost knocked him over, forcing him to scramble to keep the mech upright. The HUD flashed, and a warning tone sounded in the cockpit. Donovan checked the damage by moving the right-hand controls, and finding the arm didn't move with it.

  He shook his head, backing away as he counted the seconds. He had gotten too aggressive, and now one of their best assets was damaged. Stupid.

  He kept a closer eye on the HUD, watching the movement of the different units his sensors were detecting. He retreated toward Kroeger's position, firing back at the tanks as they also retreated. When Soon's mech passed in front of him, he turned around and unleashed a volley of slugs toward the Dread clones, chewing their front line to pieces.

  Kroeger would owe him for saving his life. Again.

  "It looks like they're retreating, Major," Soon said, blasting one of the remaining tanks. The others had been backing up, but now they accelerated, trying to escape the battlefield.

  "Let them go," Donovan said, releasing his finger from the trigger. He had to continue firing a moment later, as the clones surprised him by pressing their attack. "What the hell? They can't win."

  The main forces might have been retreating, but the pur'dahm, Fior'el, continued throwing his clones at them. Donovan felt sick as he kept shooting, cutting them down one after another. There was nothing glorious or honorable about sending these soldiers to slaughter.

  "It is the way of the pur'dahm," Ehri said. "Especially Fior'el. Lek'shah resources are limited. Clones are not."

  It was disgusting, no matter the reason. He tried to look away as his slugs tore through human bodies, knocking down soldier after soldier until his conscience couldn't take it anymore. He stopped firing, leaving a handful of the clones standing.

  "Enough," he said, releasing the controls. He wanted to vomit.

  The few remaining clones stopped shooting, standing in the middle of the field, looking at one another, confused. The confusion was interrupted when a series of plasma bolts fired from the ground cut across the field, striking each in turn.

  Kroeger stepped out from behind a wall and looked up at him as if he could sense the reluctance to kill. Then he walked over to one of the dead clones and spat on it. He looked back up at Donovan, and sat down on top of the body, waiting.

  THREE

  "DO YOU HAVE TO sit there like that?" Donovan asked.

  "I don't think he minds," Kroeger replied, patting the dead soldier on his bloody rear. "Do you?" He laughed harshly. "Kill or be killed, Major. It's an adage as old as time."

  "You could show a little respect."

  "For this thing? Why the hell would I? It isn't human. It isn't any different than those machines you blasted. Smaller scale, different materials. That's all."

  "They are human," Donovan replied. "They have human DNA. They have individual personalities."

  "Well, boo-hoo. If those individual personalities came with the smarts to not walk into the line of fire, maybe you could convince me, and that's a pretty large maybe. Until they stop following every order no matter how asinine it is, not matter how unfair it is, I'm not going to give a shit when they die."

  They were standing near the center of the broken city. The smell of blood and burning metal and flesh was thick around them. There was no sign of Fior'el's army. Not any more. The four remaining tanks had retreated along with one badly damaged mech, the pur'dham's forces routed in the sneak attack.

  Ehri returned from the hospital with Mendez a moment later, her expression dark.

  "The collapse damaged the ped'ek, Major," she said. "It is no longer operational."

  "What about the contents?"

  "We can retrieve them."

  "At least it isn't all bad news."

  "No, Major."

  "Looks like we're humping it the rest of the way," Kroeger said. "That's fine by me. How many kilos until Austin?"

  "Three hundred," Ehri said.

  "Not bad at all. Hey, what was with that bullshit attack anyway?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, they had three mechs to our three, fine. Even Steven. Bastards had a dozen tanks and almost five hundred infantry. You would think that would tip the odds in their favor a little bit. Excuse me if I'm wrong, but we wiped the floor with them." He kicked his chair in the side for emphasis.

  "The bek'hai factories are only able to output so much in a given amount of time. The lek'shah especially is very difficult to produce. The lower a pur'dahm is in the cells, the longer he has to wait for these resources."

  "Okay, but aren't all clones the same? Equally skilled assholes?"

  "If that were true, I would not be standing here. You forget that I am also a clone, Kroeger."

  "That's because you've got a mind of your own, and you're easy to look at. Makes it easy to forget. Right, Major?" He gave her a crooked smile, while Donovan felt his face heating up at the comment. "Yeah, so you're saying he gets the rejects?"

  "Basically."

  Kroeger laughed, patting the corpse on the back. "You hear that, buddy? You're a reject."

  "Enough," Donovan said. "Get off him."

  Kroeger glanced up at Donovan, raising his eyebrow.

  "You wanted to be part of this," Donovan reminded him.

  Kroeger stood up. "Yes, sir. I forget myself sometimes."

  "The bigger concern is that a pur'dahm with an army of rejects, as you so eloquently put it, was able to track us here while no others, including the Domo'dahm, have. Fior'el is not unintelligent. There is more to this than it seems."

  "Like what?" Donovan asked.

  "I'm not sure yet," Ehri replied. "It is possible we are being hunted."

  "No offense, darling," Kroeger said. "But, duh."

  "Hunted, Kroeger. Not chased. By a pur'dahm hunter."

  "Like the ones we encountered at the base? The ones who were about to decapitate you?" Donovan looked right at Kroeger.

  "I was setting him up," Kroeger said.

  "Yeah, to kill you," Mendez replied.

  "If you're right, that means he's out there right now," Donovan said.

  Kroeger's eyebrow went up again. "Watching us?"

  Ehri nodded. "If I am right."

  "We should take him out."

  "You are welcome to try. Any hunter that has been keeping pace with us is no reject. He will be of a high cell, and extremely skilled."

  "Yeah? If he's been following us, why hasn't he done us in yet?"

  "The time has not been right."

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "Does it matter?" Donovan said. "Ehri, what do you suggest we do?"

  "When you are the hunter's prey, there isn't much you can do except def
end yourself when he attacks. I will try to bring him out to parlay."

  "You want to talk to him?"

  "Perhaps I can convince him to give up the hunt."

  "You really think so?" Kroeger asked.

  "I don't know. What I can tell you is that he was keeping pace with us before we lost the ped'ek. Now he will have time to rest, time to recover and gain strength before he makes his move. We have a slight advantage because we know he is here, and can catch him off guard."

  "By talking? Why don't we just scour the earth with our, what do you call them? Grrrr-shah?" He emphasized the first part like a growl. "Plasma talks pretty loud."

  "We can't blanket the entire city," Donovan said.

  "And we don't have time to sit here all day," Soon said. "I imagine the rest of the bek'hai will figure out what happened here soon enough."

  "Soon is right," Ehri said.

  "Fine. But I don't see what yapping is going to do for us? He'd be an idiot just to decide to go away if he thinks he can take us out."

  "I do not expect him just to go away," Ehri said. She turned to Donovan. "Major? Will you put your faith in me?"

  "I have so far."

  "I will go out to engage him. He will not dishonor himself by attacking me. Even so, we should be ready to move, in case more pur'dahm forces are nearby and wish to take advantage of Fior'el's failure."

  "Okay," Donovan said. "Mendez, take Ehri's mech. Kroeger, Thompson, these cockpits are tight, but let's head back to the transport and stuff as many weapons into them as we can fit."

  "Yes, sir," they said.

  He approached Ehri, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Be careful."

  She nodded. "I will, Major."

  He retreated to his mech, climbing up and into the cockpit. He watched her back through the HUD as she began winding her way through the destruction. Then he got the mech moving again, back to the side of the hospital. The transport was nearly buried beneath a portion that had collapsed across it, leaving only half of the opening into it exposed.

  Kroeger paused in front of him to survey it, said something to Thompson that Donovan couldn't hear, and then the two soldiers crawled inside.

  "He's a piece of work, isn't he, Major?" Soon said.

  "You can say that again."

  "You worried about Ehri, Major?"

  He rotated the mech's torso back the way she had gone, but she had disappeared from view.

  "You can say that again."

  FOUR

  LEX'EL DUR RORN'EL WATCHED the line of gel'shah retreating from the field. His breathing was sharp and thick as he tried to contain his rage at Fior'el for interrupting his hunt. No. For doing more than interrupting it.

  For ruining it.

  He had hoped that Ehri and the humans would win the battle because the thought of that pathetic pur'dahm stealing his glory burned him more than anything else could. Even so, the un'hai was smart enough to know that Fior'el would never be able to find them on his own. She would make the connection, and his existence would be revealed.

  He slapped his fist on the ground beside him. So close. He had been so close. He took another breath of pure oxygen to comfort himself. There was nothing he could do about it now. A good hunter knew how to let go of the near misses and refocus.

  He stood up, keeping his back pressed against the wall of the shattered building. He wasn't going to give up on his quarry that easily. Not when defeating them would push him so so much closer to succeeding his father as leader of the bek'hai.

  He spent the next few minutes watching the remaining gel'shah disappear over the horizon. Then he returned to the corner, peering around it.

  Ehri dur Tuhrik was standing only a dozen meters away, her back to him. He swallowed his surprise, resisting the urge to press himself back against the wall. What was she doing here?

  He kept his eyes on her as she took a few steps away and then paused, listening. She swiveled her head slightly, and her nostrils flared. She knelt down, putting a finger to the earth and lifting it to her nose before touching it to her tongue.

  What was she doing? There was no way she could sense him like that. He hadn't even crossed that area.

  Then again, how was she already so close?

  He drew further back behind the wall, curious and slightly concerned. Ehri may have been an un'hai, but that didn't explain these actions. It was almost as if -

  "Lex'el dur Rorn'el," Ehri said loudly, returning to her feet and pivoting around again.

  He ducked back before she could see him there. Did she know for sure he was near or was she guessing? And how did she know it was him out of all of the pur'dahm hunters.

  "Lex'el dur Rorn'el," she repeated. "I know you are here somewhere. I can smell your breath."

  His breath? He held it in involuntary response to the statement. How?

  "It is a foul thing," she said. "You have been away from the regeneration chamber for some time. Do not tell me that you don't feel it."

  He would never admit that he did, even to himself. He remained still, trying to decide what to do.

  "The humans don't know where I am, Lex'el. They trust me enough to let me operate on my own."

  He made his decision, swinging out from behind the wall.

  She was already looking right at him.

  "So did the Domo'dahm," he said. "And you betrayed him for it. Do you wish to betray your humans as well?"

  "You wouldn't accept that even if I did," Ehri replied.

  "No." He took a few steps toward her. "You knew where I was. You could have taken me by surprise."

  "I don't desire a war, Lex'el. I believe the bek'hai and the humans can live together."

  "Disgusting."

  "Why do the bek'hai despise them so, even as they steal their genes?"

  "We use their genes by necessity."

  "The reason doesn't matter. It is senseless. I was hoping I could open your eyes."

  "And what? Get me to side with the humans? To betray my kind? My father?"

  "No. You are too honorable to do that. It is one thing that sets you apart from your peers. I was hoping only to convince you to remove yourself from this particular fight."

  He laughed. "You don't want me to kill them."

  "I won't allow you to kill them."

  He laughed harder. "You? You're a scientist, Ehri dur Tuhrik. Your namesake was a pacifist."

  "I would rather be a pacifist. I'm going to tell you something I have not told the humans."

  He stopped laughing, suddenly intrigued. "Oh?"

  "Yes, but this truth cannot reach the Domo'dahm. Once I tell you, I will have no choice but to kill you. Do you understand?"

  His eyes narrowed. There was something about the way she said it that gave him pause and sent a slight chill along his arms.

  "I can see that you do. You have another choice, hunter. You can give me your word that you will abandon this hunt. If you want to claim the glory of killing the humans and me, do it in the open, on the field of battle."

  "That is not my way, and you know it. I have no armies. I have no gur'shah. I have only myself, and sometimes my brothers. That is the path of the hunter. You are more than any un'hai I have met before. Only a druk would be unable to see it. Even so, this is my only path to Domo'dahm. Either I kill the humans, or I spend the rest of my life in cruhr dur bek. Those are the only options for me."

  "You will never be Domo'dahm, Lex'el. If you know your history, you know the hunters nearly destroyed the lori'shah, and in doing so nearly destroyed the bek'hai. There has not been a hunter named Domo'dahm in five thousand years."

  "Then my glory will be all the greater," Lex'el said. "I don't know how to exist any other way." He paused, giving one last consideration of her words. "Tell me your secret, Ehri dur Tuhrik."

  "I am not a clone. My name is Juliet St. Martin."

  She smiled at him. It was not the smile of a scientist.

  It the smile of a hunter.

  FIVE

  LEX'EL R
EACHED FOR HIS lek'sai, giving up on the effort as the un'hai across from him closed the distance between them, faster than he would have ever believed possible.

  It took only a single leap forward, nearly five meters from a stand, for her to be on top of him, her foot angling in and hitting him in the chest before he even realized the fight had started. The impact pushed him backward, and he shifted his weight, rolling away on his hands and coming to his feet.

  She didn't give him any quarter, coming in hard and fast, throwing quick jabs and hard hooks that he struggled to bring his hands up to block.

  "You are a clone, Ehri dur Tuhrik," he hissed, jaw clenched, eyes tight and focused. "No human can do the things you do."

  Her smile grew a little wider. She faked a punch to his stomach, and when he moved to block she spun around behind him, grabbing one of his lek'sai and pulling it from him before backing away.

  "The bek'hai's advanced command of genetic engineering is useful for more than making twisted monsters or direct copies," she said. "Draw your weapon."

  "You want me to believe you are the original pur'hai, from which all of the un'hai were made?" He didn't believe it. Why would he? It sounded ridiculous. And if it were true, why would she hide it from the humans? He drew his lek'sai. It wouldn't matter, once she was dead.

  If he could defeat her.

  No sooner had he brought the blade into position than she was on him again, her lek'sai flashing, darting in and out as he continued to retreat, barely finding the time to knock the blade aside. It nicked his arm, and then his leg. He growled and clenched his teeth. He was not going to lose like this.

  She eased up, stepping back, treating him like a toy.

  "I am the original. Juliet St. Martin. I didn't remember. I didn't know it until I saw him. My son, Gabriel. He came to me. He came to Earth to save us."

  "Why haven't you told the humans?"

  "I have earned their trust as Ehri dur Tuhrik. If I make a claim like that, they will begin to question."