by M. R. Forbes
"Yes, Captain," General Cave said.
"If the soldiers all leave and the civilians stay behind, there's a chance they could get stranded here."
"Only if we were to lose," Gabriel said.
"That's beside the point. I think we should give everyone the option to return to Earth. Some will choose to stay behind, but some won't."
Theodore's face softened. "Well, we do have the space. I don't see any harm in it."
"Neither do I," General Cave said.
"Then we'll do that. Damn. I should have brought Lieutenant O'Dea down to help us with the logistics. I'll ship her over on the next boat. For now, I think we should start moving troops by company. That way we can get them properly armed and outfitted on their way in. Parallel to that, we can begin moving whatever resources we can spare. I'm sure we can convert them into something we can use. Captain, does your statement mean you've reconsidered?"
Huang had picked his insignia back up and reaffixed it to his uniform. "Yes, General," he replied.
"Then don't worry too much about your little outburst. It won't leave this room, and I forgive you."
"Thank you, sir."
"I want you to be our liaison to the Council. General Cave is going to be too busy helping me organize to deal with Rouse and the others. Tell them what we're doing, make sure they know that part of it isn't optional, but coming along for the ride is. Can you do that, son?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good man."
"What about me, General?" Colonel Ames asked.
"You used to a be a pilot, didn't you? Before you got the arthritis?"
"I made three runs past Earth, yes, sir. I'd still be doing it if I could."
"Well, the Ishur is a bit of a different animal. I don't think your disability would affect your ability to serve on the bridge, and I have other plans for Major St. Martin." Theodore turned to Gabriel. "Would you mind giving Colonel Ames a few lessons on flying the fortress?"
"Not at all, sir," Gabriel replied.
"Good. Mr. Mokri, I want you to take a shuttle over to Gamma. Help the science teams figure out what they can salvage there, and what we can use. Thank God the bastards only got one shot off."
"Yes, sir," Reza replied.
"Mr. It'kek, you're with Alan and me. You and yours have been invaluable so far, but we need to pick your brain a little more to put together a complete plan."
"Of course, Dahm St. Martin," It'kek said.
"General Cave and I will be reaching out to all of you again over the next two days. If any of you were expecting to sleep, cancel those plans. You can catch up when we go into slipspace."
"Yes, sir," the others said.
"Alan, is there anything you want to add?"
General Cave smiled. "No. I think you covered it all."
"In that case, you're all dismissed. Let's get to work."
FORTY-THREE
"I NEVER GOT A chance to meet Captain Kim," General Alan Parker said. "I wish I had. I've spent a lot of years dreaming of the day when I would meet someone from the space forces. When I would get to sit with them, embrace them, and thank them for never giving up. For never leaving us behind. And while I didn't know Captain Kim, that's what he represents to me. Hope. Hope for a better future. A future without the Dread."
The assembled rebels clapped as General Parker finished his eulogy, putting his hand on the simple casket that had been made to lay the fallen soldier to rest. It was more than a lot of the dead received, but Donovan understood why the General was placing Soon front and center as a symbol of the war. They had all heard General St. Martin's message. They all knew the storm was coming. It was right to be afraid. It was natural. Having something to cling to and to rally around could be the difference between victory and defeat.
It had been two days since the General had arrived, riding into Austin on the shoulder of Donovan's mech, his American flag waving in the breeze. It was an arrival that had kicked the gears of war into full motion, an arrival that had set the already focused rebels into a greater sense of purpose and motivation.
Not only because of General Parker, but also because of General St. Martin.
Donovan could still barely believe the man General Rodriguez had called the Old Gator had managed to survive. It was even harder for him to believe that he had somehow captured one of the enemy fortresses for the rebellion. To think that only a short time earlier they had still believed the Dread to be untouchable. Unbeatable. Now it seemed as if victory, or at least the chance for victory, was imminent.
He watched the General finish the ceremony, and then joined Ehri and Colonel Knight at the front of the assembly. They lifted Soon's casket together, carrying it to the corner of the loop station, where a grave had already been dug. They lowered it in, and then General Parker handed Donovan a makeshift shovel.
"Thank you, sir," Donovan said. He used the shovel to return a scoop of the earth to its place and then passed it on to Ehri. She did the same, and the process was repeated, the shovel passed along to a line of soldiers that formed behind them. Most of them had never had a chance to get to know Soon, but they respected him for what he had done, and for what he represented.
After two days, the rebel army was almost ready to move out. Donovan had barely slept the entire time, getting involved with the effort to organize and coordinate the influx of new fighters, and to help Colonel Knight and General Parker put together a plan for when they reached the Dread capital. He and Ehri had the most experience with both the layout and military capabilities of the linked Dread fortresses, and so their input had been essential to the strategy.
Not that there was anything fancy about their plan. The intent was to use the same tactics that had gotten them this far, only on a larger scale and with a little more firepower behind it. That meant trying to stay out of the Dread's sensor range, to keep silent and cool as they made their approach. The mechs would hang back, aiming to cover the ground teams as they came under pressure, and to offer a distraction to pull the Dread heavy units away. The goal, they had decided, was to infiltrate the Dread fortresses, to get soldiers inside where they would have better success fighting the enemy army in close quarters. For Donovan, that meant he was going to see the worst of the fighting from within the cockpit of a Dread mech.
It also meant he was one of the soldiers who was most likely to be killed.
While the infantry would be sneaking through the streets of Mexico City, he would be looking to intercept both Dread mechanized armors and starfighters as they swept over the field, laying down cover fire and trying to pull the birds from the sky. The mech alone was going to make him a huge target, but his harassment would make him impossible to ignore, and that was the idea.
He wasn't afraid of dying. He had seen too many of his friends fall to the Dread to fear being killed in battle. His real fear came from the thought of failure. Of being shot down before he accomplished his mission and gave the infantry enough time to reach the enemy's gates. He was comforted a little to know that Ehri would be covering his left side, but standing in front of Soon's grave only reminded him that someone else would be to his right, someone he would have to learn to trust in a hurry.
He wasn't sure who would receive the assignment just yet. They had returned with three mechs to add to the two they already controlled, and a salvage team had brought back his damaged armor to try to repair under Orli's supervision. That meant there were four seats for nearly a dozen people who had made the cut of initial volunteers and who had been training to drive the machines. He knew that Lieutenant Bastion and Corporal Knowles were currently at the top of the leaderboards they had devised to track progress. Would it be one of them?
Not that it mattered in the end. They were all in this together.
Donovan began moving away from the grave, clearing space for others to offer their respects. Kroeger was near the front of the line, and the soldier tossed a pile of dirt onto the casket before hurrying to catch up with him.
"Majo
r," Kroeger said, keeping pace as they walked. "I hear we're moving out tonight."
"That's right," Donovan said.
Kroeger stopped and put out his hand. "Major, if we don't see one another again, I just wanted to thank you."
"Thank me?"
"I spent years out there in a world where hope was hard to come by, and civilization even harder. It changed me, in good ways and bad, but more in bad, I think. I was trying to do something good with Hell, and I think I did okay at it. But since signing up with you, I feel pride I thought I had lost. A sense of purpose that I thought was long gone. So yeah, thank you for that, Major. Even if we don't always see eye to eye." He paused, looking back at Soon's grave. "Even if you should have listened to me."
He gave Donovan a half-smirk and headed off, returning to the ground unit where he had been assigned.
"Asshole," Donovan said softly to his back. He still wasn't sure if he liked Kroeger or not, but he couldn't deny the man was a survivor.
"Excuse me, Major?" General Parker said, having overheard him.
Donovan turned to face the General, saluting as he did. "Sir. Not you, sir. Sergeant Kroeger."
"An interesting character for sure," General Parker replied. "I've seen a lot of people like him out in the human wasteland."
"Those are the people we're fighting to save?"
"Yes. We can't discriminate, even if sometimes we wish we could."
"Yes, sir."
Donovan kept his eyes on the General, waiting for him to announce his intentions. He had learned over the last two days that it was one of the General's strongest, most subliminal traits. He had a confident, commanding presence about him, one that made soldiers want to be still and listen or wait to be addressed. He was a leader. A true leader, who had taken over the Austin operation on his arrival and within eighteen hours had everyone in it following his command without question. Donovan admired the quality.
He also admired the man. Stories about General Parker had started circulating when his army from New York had arrived. Stories about his bravery and sacrifice, about his strategic genius and his fatherly demeanor. He had not only held things together as the situation had gotten worse in the northeast, but he had also overcome it, adding to their numbers even while they couldn't put a scratch on the Dread.
"I was going to talk to you about this later at the officer's meeting, but I thought it might lift your spirits a little bit to hear it from me right now. I want you to lead not only the mech unit but also the entire diversionary force, including the Bertha Brigade, as they've taken to calling themselves." He smiled. "I'm also going to shift two companies over to your command to help with the external defenses. Both J and K Companies will fall under your flag."
K Company was Kroeger's unit. It seemed they wouldn't be parting ways just yet.
"Major is a low rank to have that much responsibility," General Parker continued. "It won't affect your pay grade, but I'm promoting you to Colonel. Congratulations."
Donovan looked at the General's face, and then at his hand. Colonel?
"Yes, sir," he replied, taking the hand. "Thank you, sir." He knew his mother would have been proud of him for this.
"I also thought you might want to meet your new squad mate."
"You, sir?" Donovan said.
General Parker laughed. "I'd be honored, Colonel, but no. I need to help run the overall attack." He motioned back to Colonel Knight. "Colonel Knight has been taking lessons from Ehri in private. From what I hear, she might be a better pilot than you."
Colonel Knight approached at the mention of her name. "I thought we were going to cover this later, sir?" she said.
"Now seemed as good of a time as any."
"Colonel," Donovan said, saluting her.
"Colonel," Colonel Knight replied, returning the salute. "Looks like I'm taking orders from you now, sir."
"I guess you are," Donovan said, feeling a little uncomfortable with the role reversal.
"We're all professionals here," General Parker said. "And we all want the same thing. There's no need to feel strange about it."
"Yes, sir," Donovan said.
"Good. I recommend that you try to enjoy your last few hours of calm. It might be the last we have for a while."
FORTY-FOUR
"DOMO'DAHM," ORISH'EK SAID AS he entered Rorn'el's private chamber beside the throne room.
Rorn'el turned at the approach, shifting his back toward the pur'dahm to avoid being seen. It was improper for Orish'ek to look on him directly, and he would be forced to retire if he caught more than a glimpse. For as embarrassing as the human form was, the legri'hai shape was even more of a failure, and one that he hoped they could one day forget.
"Have you forgotten your place, Orish'ek?" he snapped. "Or do you intend to defy me as well?"
He hissed softly at the idea of it. Too many of his subjects were proving to be less than trustworthy.
"My apologies, Domo'dahm," Orish'ek said. "I thought you would want to know that Pit'ek has returned. I have already ordered him to appear before you."
Pit'ek was back from his hunt for the human settlement? Did that mean the technology that had been delivered to them from the Ishur had worked? That was news worth being intruded upon for.
"Excellent. I will prepare myself for the audience. What of our efforts to root out the un'hai?"
"Sor'ek has assembled a complete roster of all of the active un'hai as you commanded, Domo'dahm. The report is within your data store."
"Have you seen it?"
"Yes, Domo'dahm."
"What are your thoughts?"
Orish'ek was hesitant to respond. Rorn'el turned slightly, glancing back at him from the corner of his eye.
"What is the problem?" he asked.
"Domo'dahm," Orish'ek said. "Tuhrik was directly responsible for the creation of the un'hai, at your request."
"Yes. And?"
Orish'ek froze.
"And?" Rorn'el repeated with a hiss.
"Domo'dahm, the un'hai compose nearly ninety percent of our science and technology focused lor'hai. This includes our splicing research, the assemblers, astronomy, and many other vital roles. Further, it was the un'hai Kehri's work with the human technology that allowed Pit'ek to integrate the systems into the lek'shah."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Two things, Domo'dahm. First, there are very few, if any, un'hai that Tuhrik did not have any opportunity to manipulate. Second, it is clear from the actions of at least one of the un'hai that they are not all disloyal."
Rorn'el considered it. In his initial anger at Zoelle's betrayal, he had been of a mind to destroy all of the Juliet clones and replace them with something more reliable. Now it was clear that not only was that not feasible; it also might not be necessary. Only some of the un'hai seemed to be infected with whatever damage Tuhrik had introduced to them.
"Do we have any way to determine which of the un'hai might be traitorous?" he asked.
"No, Domo'dahm. Sor'ek has tested the brain function of a random sample and has uncovered no discernible differences. An autopsy has also failed to reveal any obvious patterns to identify these copies."
"But it is possible his sample was too small?" Rorn'el said.
"Yes, Domo'dahm. However, if there are only a limited number of tainted clones, it would be inefficient to continue destroying them in the hopes of discovering one."
"Of course. There is no reason to continue to focus on this. If there are more un'hai like Ehri hiding in our midst, they will reveal themselves sooner or later, and then they will die. As long as Sor'ek is certain this is not a widespread problem?"
"He is certain, Domo'dahm. His estimate places one to three of these un'hai on each domo'shah, along with another thirty scattered among our outposts."
"Less than one hundred? Surely our pur'dahm can handle them if the need arises."
"Yes, Domo'dahm."
"Go now, Orish'ek. I must prepare myself for audience."
"Y
es, Domo'dahm."
Rorn'el turned around again once the pur'dahm had left. He used the arms of his chair to lift himself to a stand, shifting slightly as he did. His legs cracked at the motion, and he hissed in pain.
Old. He was getting old. He had taken Kesh'ek's place nearly forty cycles ago, himself already fifty cycles in age. While his natural lifespan was hundreds of years longer, his days in the legri'shah ring had taken their toll, and given him reason to look forward to his retirement. Not now, though. Not while the humans were still trying to take the planet back from him. He would see every last one of them destroyed before that day came.
He moved to the corner of the room, opening a small chamber there and removing a lek'shah mask from it. He lifted it out, lowered the hood of his gori'shah, and placed it over his scaled face. Then he raised the hood again, tilting himself downward to reduce his profile. He hobbled over to a second compartment, opened it, and looked down at the splintered cross he had recovered. It was no longer a symbol of peace of him, but one of anger and clarity. He had been too soft on the humans because of her. It was her fault he was in this position now.
He closed the compartment and then headed out into the hallway between his throne and his quarters. He looked at both ends of the corridor, finding it empty, before crossing the short distance to the other side and entering the antechamber. Once inside he climbed into the darkened cage that was his throne and removed the mask. Then he activated his console, using it to move the throne into position.
Orish'ek was already sitting in his proper place beside him as he moved into place. The pur'dahm did not look at him on his arrival. Neither did the others who were already present.
"Bring him in," he said a moment later, shifting his body to get more comfortable in his seat. The hatch at the end of the room slid open, and pur'dahm Pit'ek entered.
The commander of the Ishrem bowed at the rear of the room, and then made the long, lonely walk to the front. He bowed again when he reached Rorn'el, sweeping his head so low that the patches of black hair on the sides of his head hit the floor.