Tides of War (Rebellion Book 3)

by M. R. Forbes

  "Domo'dahm," Pit'ek said nervously.

  Rorn'el stared at the pur'dahm. He could tell that something was wrong.

  "Did you locate the human settlement?" Rorn'el asked, feeling a growing sense of unease and anger in his gut.

  "Yes, Domo'dahm. We found the settlement. It was broken into five separate locations. We destroyed two of them."

  "Two? Why not five?"

  "With your honor, Domo'dahm." Pit'ek began to look more uncomfortable. "There were complications."

  "Complications?" he replied, forcing himself to stay calm for now.

  "The Ishur arrived just as we were commencing the attack on the humans. They attacked us."

  "And the shields?"

  "The shields were effective, Domo'dahm."

  "What about the Ishur? Did they also have these shields?"

  "Yes, Domo'dahm, only their defenses were not the same. The modulation of their hull seemed very unstable. I would claim that our technology is superior."

  "Then the Ishur was destroyed? This General St. Martin was destroyed?"

  Pit'ek kept his head low. "No, Domo'dahm."

  "But you are not destroyed."

  "No, Domo'dahm."

  "Explain yourself, Pit'ek."

  "With your honor, Domo'dahm. The Ishrek was destroyed, and the Ishur was deflecting all of our attacks."

  "You just said their defenses were inferior," Orish'ek said.

  "Yes, Si'dahm," Pit'ek said. "Perhaps they weren't as inferior as we believed. They moved around the ship as though they were being controlled from the bridge. It was an interesting solution to the problems the scientists discovered."

  "If the shields are effective, how was the Ishrek destroyed?"

  "They converted the plasma cannon to a solid plasma stream, Domo'dahm. I believe this was possible because they are using only a small portion of the resources available on the domo'shah. They are not supporting thousands, and they are not utilizing the factories. The stream held for many ticks, many more than we could possibly achieve. It is possible that they have upgraded the systems similar to the shields. I do not know, Domo'dahm. I am unsure. The stream appeared to overwhelm the lek'shah modulation and invert, creating a small wormhole which traveled through the Ishrem and disabled it."

  Rorn'el felt his hands clenching into fists as he listened to the story. They had the perfect opportunity to destroy the human settlement, to destroy the Ishur, and to leave the rebels on the ground exposed when their expected reinforcements never arrived. Instead, not only had Pit'ek failed in his mission, but he had failed to die with honor.

  If entire wars hinged on single battles, this one would continue because of that failure.

  "I do not understand," he said. "I told you that if you returned with the humans still alive your life would be forfeit, Pit'ek. And yet you returned."

  "Domo'dahm," Pit'ek said, bowing low once more. "We could not match the Ishur in offensive capability, and I believed that this information was more valuable than my sacrifice."

  Rorn'el smiled, shifting his head so that light would catch enough of it that Pit'ek would see his sharp teeth. The pur'dahm drew back slightly at the sight.

  "You have done well to return this information to me."

  "Thank you, Domo'dahm."

  "Now that it is delivered, I expect you to fulfill the orders you were given."

  "Orders, Domo'dahm?"

  "Yes. I ordered you not to return to me without having destroyed the human settlement, or to be prepared for your retirement."

  The pur'dahm lifted his head slightly, ready to argue, before lowering it again. "Yes, Domo'dahm."

  "Be glad I do not disgrace you by killing you myself."

  "Yes, Domo'dahm."

  "You are dismissed."

  "Yes, Domo'dahm."

  Rorn'el sat in silence while Pit'ek fled the room. He had no doubt the drumhr would fulfill his obligation to retire.

  "So, the humans continue to outmaneuver us," Orish'ek said.

  "It appears that way. A plasma stream? It may have been effective against only two ships, but it will not be enough to save them." He paused. "Order all of the domo'shah not attached to the capital to take up position in orbit and bolster the defensive net. Once there, they are to deploy their full complement of ek'shah and to have the gi'shah on standby for deployment."

  "Domo'dahm?" Orish'ek said. "All of the domo'shah?"

  "You believe this is the wrong decision?" Rorn'el asked.

  "If the ground forces break through, it will make it all the easier for them to reach us."

  "The rebel forces are not the problem here. They have a secure position underground, but once they emerge they will be decimated before they can even get close. No. The Ishur is the real danger. They possess the firepower of a domo'shah, and the ingenuity to survive. It is a shame I will have to destroy General St. Martin. He would have made a fine splice." Rorn'el looked at Orish'ek. "Why are you still here? Send out my orders."

  Orish'ek hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say something else, and then bowed and left the room.

  Domo'dahm Rorn'el leaned back in his throne and closed his eyes.

  He would see the humans destroyed before his time came to retire.

  It was his legacy.

  It was his destiny.

  FORTY-FIVE

  "PREPARING TO JOIN THE slipstream in five. Four. Three. Two. One. Now," Gabriel said, counting down as the Ishur accelerated toward the subspace wave, her large quantum phased fins stretched out around her.

  They shimmered and began to vanish to the alternate thread of time and space, pulling the main body of the fortress along with them. A few seconds later, the stars collapsed, leaving them in a place of infinite black.

  "Slipstream joined," he said, turning to look back at his father.

  "And we're on our way," Theodore said with a smile. "ETA to arrival, Mr. Mokri?"

  "Five days, nine hours, sir," Reza replied.

  "Three hours ahead of schedule. I hope the rebels don't mind that we're early."

  "I hope they weren't planning on cutting things that close," General Cave said. He was sitting in the station right in front of the command dais, two seats from Miranda.

  As expected, the two days at the colony had passed in a blur, finding everyone involved with the war effort under increasing pressure to get everything organized and prepared. While General Cave and Theodore, along with Colonels Choi and Graham had gotten to work organizing a definitive strategy, Gabriel had been tasked with both training Colonel Ames on how to fly the Dread starship, and in keeping abreast of the status of the many other projects underway. It had meant a lot of shuttling back and forth between the Ishur and Alpha Station, a lot of walking through the corridors of both, and absolutely no sleep.

  He was tired, but he would never show it. He had wanted nothing more than to be the one to bring the Ishur into slipspace, and now that it was done he felt the sudden weight of his exhaustion.

  He didn't realize he was yawning until his father called him on it.

  "Major St. Martin," Theodore said, using his rank. "Are we boring you?"

  "Sorry, sir," Gabriel said, feeling his face flush. "It's been a long couple of days?"

  "Long? It went by like a dream to me. Give me a quick sitrep on our preparations and then head on to your quarters. I can't afford to have my top pilot going into the shit with eyes half-open."

  "Yes, sir," Gabriel said, trying to remember all of the reports he had received in the hours before the Ishur had departed. "The Ishur's current population is eight-thousand forty-four souls, including two thousand six hundred and forty civilians, one hundred and three clone soldiers, twelve keepers, three mature legri'shah, and an unknown number of cleaners. We also have five thousand two hundred and seven trained soldiers from the colony on board, who have been armed with three thousand seventy-two Dread rifles. It is expected that the assemblers will complete almost one hundred percent of the inventory needed for the infantry b
efore we arrive."

  "I am seriously impressed with your memory, son," Theodore said.

  "I'm just getting started, sir," Gabriel replied. "The assemblers have also completed four gi'shah capable of being piloted by humans, and two of the larger ek'shah, which require at least a dozen souls to operate. They have also used recovered salvage to repair or produce sixteen of our own starfighters, with upgrades to the ion cannons for standard phase modulation. The bad news is that we currently only have ten qualified pilots and eight academy trainees who are advanced enough to put in the cockpit."

  "Too many ships. We have six days to find soldiers we can train."

  "Yes, sir. It is expected the assemblers will produce two more starfighters during the trip."

  "What about Maggie?"

  "According to Guy, the Magellan is as fit to fly as she'll ever be. They'll be finishing the plasma cannon mounts during the trip. Unfortunately, we only have enough resources for five of them."

  "Not ideal, but I'll take what I can get."

  "Yes, sir. The civilians have all been assigned berths on decks three to nineteen. Its one level above the cloning facilities and the legri'shah pens. We've done our best to teach them how to use the transport beams and to warn them about wandering randomly, but we don't have the manpower to babysit."

  "I told Councilwoman Rouse to do what she could to keep them in line," Theodore said. "Damn that woman for being good at what she does; once she put her mind to being part of the solution instead of part of the problem."

  "Yes, sir. There are still two thousand or so civilians remaining on Alpha Settlement that we'll need to pick up after we win. With the reduced population, they should have the capacity to stay alive for years."

  "In case we don't come back? Heh. The ones who stayed behind are idiots."

  "Yes, sir. We have enough food and water to last for months and enough space that everyone on the ship is pretty happy with the living situation. Although, they might change their minds once the fighting starts."

  "You can say that again. I think half of them think we're going for a stroll and we'll just land somewhere and let them out."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Anything else, Major?"

  Gabriel thought about it for a few seconds. "Just that I'm proud to be part of this offensive, sir." And proud to be your son. He didn't say it, but he felt it.

  "I'm proud to have you," Theodore replied. "If you're done with your report, you're dismissed."

  "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

  Gabriel stood to leave.

  "Spaceman Locke," Theodore said. "When was the last time you had some bunk time?"

  Gabriel found Miranda, who looked surprised at the question. She looked spent, too. "Uh. I lost track, sir."

  "You're dismissed as well. I'll get one of the new recruits up to take your place. We aren't running a skeleton crew anymore."

  "Yes, sir."

  Gabriel felt himself blush. He knew what his father was doing. He probably thought he was a sly old gator.

  Gabriel headed off the bridge, with Miranda right behind him. They stopped together a short distance away.

  "The General seems to think that there's a benefit to us being off duty at the same time," she said, a smile creeping across her face.

  "He does, doesn't he? He wasn't exactly subtle about it."

  The smile turned to a laugh. "Do you think he knows something we don't?"

  "No. I think he knows something we know."

  "Gabriel-"

  "Miranda. Wait. Come on."

  Gabriel reached out and took her hand. She followed him as he led her through the ship and to his quarters.

  "Do you want to come in?" he asked. "Wallace is going to pee when he sees us."

  She laughed again. "Of course."

  Gabriel opened the hatch. Wallace came charging out, yipping and wagging his tail, circling both of them and leaving a little urine on the deck, just like Gabriel had guessed he would.

  "Who's my good man?" Miranda asked, petting him while he licked her face.

  Gabriel watched her, feeling his pulse quickening. Theodore had given them this time for a reason, and he wasn't going to waste it.

  "Miranda," he said.

  She looked up at him and stood, keeping her hand on Wallace's back. "Gabriel, I-"

  "I love you," Gabriel said, spitting it out before he could reconsider.

  "I love you," she said at almost the same time.

  They both laughed.

  "I've wanted to say that for a while," she said. "Years, actually. I never wanted to push or pressure you after Jessica."

  "I didn't know that I did until recently, to be honest. But I do. You've brought me more joy than I thought I would feel again. You're my best friend." He paused and looked down at Wallace. "After him, obviously."

  She laughed again. "I love that you're honest, Gabriel. I love your courage and your strength and your loyalty."

  "I love the same things about you," he said, looking in her eyes. "I know this is a little awkward, but I didn't want anything to happen before I got to say it, even though I've been so busy I haven't had the chance."

  "Are you sure you're not just overtired?" she asked.

  He stepped toward her, reaching out. She moved into him, accepting his embrace. "Absolutely."

  They kissed. It was a simple kiss. Soft and short, an expression of an emotion born of admiration and respect. Then they held one another. Gabriel enjoyed running his hands through her hair and feeling the weight of her head on his shoulder.

  "Will you marry me?" Gabriel asked. "After this is over?"

  "Yes." She picked her head up. "Why not before? Your father can do it. Or General Cave."

  "Motivation," he said. "If I have that to look forward to, there will be nothing the Dread can do to stop me from making it back."

  She reached up and put her hand on his face. "I believe you when you say that."

  "Good, because I mean it." He looked over at his bed. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to crash and burn here before I crash and burn out there."

  "I think you might be on to something. I'm about ready to fall over myself."

  "I'll see you on the bridge?"

  "Affirmative."

  He pulled her close and kissed her again. "Goodnight, Miranda."

  "Goodnight, Gabriel."

  They kissed one last time, and then she left his room, headed for her own quarters. He retreated to his bed, falling onto it and descending quickly into the best sleep he had ever had.

  FORTY-SIX

  DONOVAN BROUGHT HIS MECH to a stop as they reached the outskirts of San Luis Potosi. He felt a chill at the sight of the city, remembering the battle that had happened there, and the person who had died there.

  Diaz. His eyes shifted to the area of the city where he had burned her body, knowing the ashes would still be there. It had only been three weeks since they had left. It felt strange to be back again so soon.

  It felt even stranger to be at the head of an army almost twelve-thousand people strong.

  It was more than they had started with. It was more than they had ever expected. Men, women, and even children had been streaming in from the world around them, every day since they had marched from Austin at a breakneck pace. They were rebels from other camps, they were jackals, they were scavengers, they were anyone and everyone who had been near any kind of transmitter and had heard Theodore St. Martin's message. They were people who had found their humanity, who had been inspired, and who were ready to fight back.

  "Are you well, Colonel?" Ehri asked.

  "Yeah. We aren't coming back with our tail between our legs."

  "No, sir."

  "What do you think the Domo'dahm is waiting for?" he asked.

  They hadn't seen a single Dread fighter, a single Dread mech, or even a single Dread soldier since they had left Austin. The route was as clear as any of them had ever seen, trouble and conflict free, as though the aliens had never existed at all.

/>   "General St. Martin issued him a challenge. He will be dishonored not to meet it. Do not let this lull fool you. You will find his forces in Mexico."

  "I'm looking forward to it."

  "Yes."

  "Colonel Peters," General Parker said, his voice coming in over the makeshift receiver mounted to the front of the mech's cockpit. "Take Ehri and Colonel Knight down into the city and make sure it's clear. We'll hang back and wait for your report."

  "Yes, sir," Donovan replied, putting his mech in motion once more. "Come on."

  The three mechs moved into the decimated city, crossing through the main thoroughfare and winding through the side streets. As expected, Donovan came across the place where Diaz had been put to rest. He bowed the mech's head there out of respect before contacting the General again.

  "We're all clear, General."

  "Good. We'll rest here for three hours, and then we have to be on the move again. We're running behind as it is."

  "The stragglers are slowing us down, sir," Donovan said. That was the downside to the civilians that had been joining them. They were threatening to get the army there late.

  "I know, Colonel. We have to make a decision whether or not to leave them behind."

  "It doesn't seem like much of a decision to me, sir. We can't ask General St. Martin to manage this war on his own."

  "You're absolutely right, and I was thinking the same thing. We'll pass the word down the line to them. They need to keep up or get left behind."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Split your squad into two shifts, Colonel. I want your sensors on the surroundings, just in case the Dread try something sneaky."

  "Yes, sir. Bastion, Knowles, Knight, you're on first shift. Move into position to maximize sensor coverage. I don't want anything getting near this city without us knowing about it."

  "Yes, sir," the pilots replied.

  Donovan moved his mech back toward the oncoming army. The foot soldiers moved in first, two hundred strong. They swept through the area, taking up defensive positions on rubble piles and broken rooftops. Donovan spotted Kroeger among them, finding a good place to roost with his sniper rifle.

  "The rest of you, try to get a little shut-eye," Donovan said. "Ninety minutes and then we switch."