Tides of War (Rebellion Book 3)

by M. R. Forbes

  Donovan settled back in the cockpit, closing his eyes and trying to relax. He was nervous. Impatient. They couldn't get to Mexico City soon enough.

  He was halfway through his ninety minutes when the sudden sound of deep rumbling and a beeping from the mech's terminal caused him to wake. His eyes snapped open, and he looked around outside. The buildings were shivering, throwing up a cloud of disturbed dust, and the rumbling was getting louder.

  "What the-" he started to say. The sound was familiar. He had heard it before, but it was so much louder now.

  "More domo'shah are launching," Ehri said. "Judging by the vibrations, a lot more."

  Donovan turned his mech to the south. There was a building in his field of view, so he walked the armor over to clear his sightline. He could see the light in the distance, illuminating the entire sky. The rumbling was getting louder, the ground shaking even more. The soldiers resting around him were all up and standing, searching for the source of the distress.

  "There," Ehri said, using her mech to point into the distance.

  The first of the domo'shah was rising, reaching a point where they could see it climbing into the night sky, a bright red and blue flare of energy behind it. Another appeared a moment later. Then another.

  "How many of them does he have?" Donovan said.

  Another appeared, and then another, creating a train of the massive starships climbing toward the atmosphere. The ground shook, their air around them rippling and heating up from the energy being used to bring them all into orbit.

  "Seven, not including the capital ship, which is nearly twice the size of the others," Ehri said.

  Donovan watched them rise, counting them.

  "Seven," he said. "He's sending all of them to intercept General St. Martin and his forces."

  "It is a good sign," she replied. "It means he is worried about the General. Seven ships to defeat one?"

  "Eight," Donovan said. They had seen the other fortress appear a few hours earlier, coming to rest in geosynchronous orbit. "Eight against one. They're going to be slaughtered."

  "Then the weight of this war has shifted back to us," Ehri said.

  General Parker seemed to understand that instinctively. His voice carried over the receiver a moment later.

  "All units, break time is over. This is a red alert. I repeat, this is a red alert. I know you're tired. I know you're stretched to the limit. But that there is a sign that the enemy is afraid. It's also the opportunity we've been waiting for. We need to dig deep and take whatever strength we have left, and we need to use it now. We have to get to the Dread capital before the Ishur arrives. We have to use the chance we're being given. General St. Martin is depending on us. All of humankind is depending on us. Gather your things and let's move. I want to be on the Domo'dahm's doorstep ASAP. Are you with me?"

  "Yes, sir," the soldiers replied as one, a shout that almost reached through the din of the rising fortresses.

  "I said are you with me?" Parker repeated.

  "Yes, sir," they replied.

  "Let's beat those bastards this time. Are. You. With. Me?"

  "Yes, sir," they shouted, the sound of it overcoming the rumble and echoing through the night.

  It was immediately followed by a flood of humankind as it continued its journey toward what would prove to either be a new beginning or a final end.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  GABRIEL STOOD AT THE front of the open space next to the dark cloning facility. The lights within the factory had been put out, the doors sealed shut. The caretakers who had worked within had been relocated to another area of the ship, where two of the New Earth Alliance's social workers were both trying to comfort them over the loss of their singular programmed task, and determine whether or not Dread clones could be rehabilitated. He had heard that early results indicated it was not only possible but that the programming was easily overcome with the right mental stimulation.

  He looked over to his left, at the line of officers standing at attention beside him. Colonel Graham, Colonel Choi, Colonel Ames, and of course Generals Cave and St. Martin. The New Earth Alliance council members who were making the trip were also present, headed by Councilwoman Rouse. They were at the head of an all-hands assembly his father had called, causing the large open floor of the deck to be crowded with both military and civilians.

  They were still nearly a day out from Earth, still traveling through slipspace toward their final destination. They would spend the next series of hours in active preparation for the battle to come, checking their equipment, moving assets into place, making sure they were as ready and organized as they could be. This would be their last chance to see one another before it happened. One last motivational push. One last opportunity to say whatever needed to be said.

  Gabriel shifted his attention to the crowd, finding Miranda near the front. She was already looking at him, and he smiled and tapped his chest. She returned the knowing gesture. Everything had been better since he had declared himself to her. He had only realized in hindsight that he had loved her long before they had stolen the Magellan, he had just never let those emotions in.

  "I think we're ready to start," he heard General Cave say to his father.

  Gabriel kept scanning the crowd. He found Daphne in the corner, surrounded by a contingent of Dread clone soldiers who had served under Tea'va and Gr'el. The former had ordered them to follow her commands, and they continued to do so with precision even after his death, becoming invaluable to the logistical preparations. For her part, Daphne had continued to be strong, confident that Soon was down there with the rebels, and that she would see him again. He didn't blame her for that. He believed the same thing.

  "Angela, if you will," Theodore said to the Councilwoman.

  She nodded, sticking her fingers in her mouth and whistling. The sound of it echoed across the chamber, and they were all surprised when a soft rumble responded to it from deeper within the bowels of the Ishur. Gabriel glanced over at It'kek, who had an amused expression on his face. It appeared the legri'shah enjoyed the sound.

  "Ladies and gentleman, and esteemed allies," Councilwoman Rouse said, looking over that keepers when she said the last part. "Thank you all for coming. I know these last few days have been stressful for everyone, and for different reasons. I think you should all be proud of yourselves for being here, and for the strength and courage you've exhibited so far. I'm going to turn this meeting over to General Theodore St. Martin. You all know him, and what he has meant to the New Earth Alliance, and while the General and I have not always seen eye-to-eye, I can honestly say that there are few people whose words I respect more."

  She turned to Theodore, who rolled over to her position, shaking her hand when she offered it.

  "Thank you, Angela," he said.

  He looked out at the gathering, unable to see past the first row because of his diminished height in the chair.

  "Men and women of the Earth Alliance," he said, his voice booming through the space. "You'll notice I left off the 'New.' That's because there is no New Earth. There's only our Earth. The one we evolved on. The one we lived on for the last few thousand years. The one that was taken from us, without justification and without cause by an alien race known by us as the Dread, known by themselves as the bek'hai. Some of you may have already met the keepers. It'kek and the others. Some of you know the real story of the bek'hai. You see, those coullions that took our Earth, they're like the bastard sons of a race that was once intelligent and peaceful. A race that I think at times made us look like bloodthirsty monsters. You might wonder why I'm telling you this. Why I'm leading with this. I want you to look around this room. I know it's hard to see past your neighbor but take a look around. Make eye contact with every face you see. Some of them will be different than ours, but everyone in this room is an ally and a friend."

  He paused, turning his chair to follow his instructions. Gabriel nodded to him as he did, and he nodded back before returning forward.

  "Did you tak
e a good look? You might be thinking; this is it? We're going to get our planet back with this? Hell, I know I am. Except this isn't it. We've got good people on the ground on Earth, making their way to the Dread capital to put the pressure on their leader. It's an army whose size we can't even estimate because we can't put a limit on how big it might be. It's an army with the same strength and courage y'all are showing by being here, especially the civilians among you who didn't need to come. Even so, you think that's the only army we got?" He shook his head. "It isn't. You see, we have ourselves a secret weapon. A weapon forged fifty years ago when those bastard Dread decided they wanted my Juliet. That she was a good match to make copies of and program as scientists and researchers. For those of you were left Earth with me, who knew Juliet, you can imagine what a mistake they made by letting her in. Even the most brutal bastard sons couldn't ignore the peaceful, devout beauty of that woman."

  He paused again, wiping at his face at the memory of her. His father had accepted the truth about Zoelle, and he wore a strong face in public, but Gabriel knew that he was still hurting over the revelation, and over knowing that his wife was truly lost to him.

  "We don't know how strong our weapon is until we try to use it, but we're going to find out. We've got a plan to turn the Dread infrastructure into chaos, and if it works? Hoo-boy, if it works, our victory is all but assured. Even if it doesn't, I believe in the people I see in front of me. I believe in every man and woman on this ship. I believe in your strength, in your courage, in your energy and enthusiasm. I believe in your heart and your spirit and your love. I believe in humankind, in humanity, and in the truth that we're going to give every last ounce of ourselves to see this thing through, to reclaim our planet, and to send them sons of bitches home. And I only have one question for all of you here: do you believe?"

  "Yes," Gabriel said, along with a handful of others.

  "That was pathetic," Theodore said. "Am I wrong about all of you? Tell me, do you believe?"

  "Yes," a large contingent said, the sound of it echoing through the chamber.

  "Really? Then why are you here? Do you believe?"

  "Yes," most of the people shouted.

  "Do you believe?" Theodore repeated one last time.

  "Yes!"

  The sound of it was so loud the room vibrated. Once more, the legri'shah answered the call, a massive roar sounding from deeper behind them, echoing out from the tunnels. It almost seemed to energize the crowd, and they cheered and hollered, leading to a greater response from the creatures. Gabriel's heart pounded, his body and spirit energized by the crowd. He put his hand on the crucifix below his shirt, holding it tight. Whatever happened, he would remember this moment.

  "Gabe," Theodore said, rolling over to him.

  "Dad. Good pep talk."

  "Thank you, son."

  "I'm not completely clear what you meant about our secret weapon, though. Do you know something I don't?"

  "I do. But not for long. Kneel down next to me so we can talk for a minute."

  Gabriel did, coming close so he could hear his father over the continuing sound of people cheering and talking, using the time they had as a group.

  Theodore put his hand on Gabriel's arm. "I've discussed this with General Cave, and with It'kek. I would have brought you in on it, but I needed you rested." He paused. "By the by, congratulations on your engagement. I'm sorry I didn't get to hear about it from you. She's a good woman, and she'll take good care of you."

  Gabriel glanced over to Miranda, who was talking to one of the soldiers beside her. "I know."

  "We think that there are clones of your mother implanted on all of the Dread ships, at least one or two, but they don't know it yet. You remember how Zoelle changed when she heard your voice, and she heard you talk about your mom and me? Well, we think that if we can get a broadcast across their network, we can turn them all on. Even better? We think that the Juliets can get more of the clones, and the keepers, to pitch in."

  "Why do you think that?"

  "Juliet got real close with the keepers. She used to come and see them all the time. They bonded over their beliefs. Now, the keepers don't want to fight, but they know it might be their only shot at breaking free of the prisons they've been stuffed into, and of not only saving the legri'shah but also increasing their population. There's a lot of history there that we still don't know, and won't for some time, but it's important to them and could make a huge difference for us."

  "So why are you telling me this?" Gabriel asked.

  "According to Mr. Mokri, we can't force the Dread to output our signal across their ships. While we're pretty sure the Domo'dahm listened to our broadcast, it didn't make it everywhere. We need to get a message out to all of the ships in the Dread fleet, emitted over their internal PA systems. Now, you would think we'd maybe have the ability to do that from here, but we don't. Sure, we can open a channel from one bridge to another, but we can't make them push the signal ship-wide. Do you get what I'm saying?"

  Gabriel nodded. "I understand. So how do we get the word out?"

  Theodore looked at him, hesitant. He bit his lip. It was as uncomfortable as Gabriel had ever seen him.

  "Dad?"

  "You know I love you, don't you, son?"

  "Of course. I love you, too."

  "It isn't that I don't believe in you because I do with all my heart. I just think it isn't right a man should have to ask his son to do this sort of thing."

  "What do you need me to do? Whatever it is, I'll do it."

  Theodore smiled. "I know you will. You're a St. Martin." He paused again. "Okay. Here's what we need you to do."

  Gabriel listened while his father explained the mission they had in store for him. It was nothing he would have expected. It was as close to impossible as he could have ever imagined. More than likely, it was going to get him killed, and if he failed it could mean the rest of them might die as well.

  When the time came to accept the assignment, he was honored to do it.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  THEY COULD SEE THE dark black carapace of the Dread capital long before they got close to it. It rose through the haze of the morning, blurry and frightening, a black splotch against clear blue. It resembled a wart, or a bruise, or a disease.

  To Donovan, it was fitting. The Dread were an infection that needed to be cured. A wound that had to be cauterized. Perhaps not all of them, not the clones like Ehri, if there were any more of them, at least. But the Domo'dahm and the pur'dahm for sure. They were the ones with the power. They were the ones with the weapons.

  They were prepared to use them.

  The rebels had been on the move for forty out of the last forty-four hours, finally nearing the massive fortress and the hubs that had once connected it to the other ships. They were still visible in the daylight sky, smaller bruises spread across the aqua, waiting for General St. Martin and his forces, whatever they might look like, to arrive. When? Today, sometime. In hours, minutes, or seconds? There was no way to know.

  They were all tired. The energy of General Parker's rallying cries had been draining a little more with each passing minute, each heavy step, each slow blink of tired eyes. Somehow, the man had kept at it without pause. He was there when they stopped to rest; he was there when they moved again. He was there all of the time, pushing them, urging them on, proving why he had survived as long as he had, and giving them hope that they would survive as well.

  As the CO of Delta Battalion, it was Donovan's role to take the lead as they neared the fortress, ready to intercept any heavy mechanized resources and try to get them caught up in an extended firefight, or otherwise attempt to distract them from the ten battalions that trailed behind them, with their eyes on reaching the fortress and getting inside. It was no small task. They had no idea what was waiting for them up ahead, but judging by how eerily quiet everything felt, he knew it couldn't be anything good.

  "This is Delta Battalion," Donovan said across the open channel. "We're four klicks out
of Mexico City. Sensors are clean. No sign of activity up ahead."

  "Roger, Delta," General Parker replied. "I don't expect it to stay that way for very long. You're practically on top of them."

  "Affirmative, Actual. If the Dread had any history of ambushes, I'd think we're walking right into one."

  "Roger that. Take your team further south and sweep back. I want you to have a clear line to retreat away from the city itself. The cover will help us close in on the fortress under fire."

  "Affirmative, Actual." Donovan switched channels to the Battalion frequency. "You heard the General. We'll keep moving south and come in from the rear. Remember, our mission is to harass the enemy as much as possible. Mech One, out."

  Donovan rotated the mech's torso toward Mexico City on his right. A waterfall of memories erupted from the sight of it, even though he had only been gone a few weeks. The missile silo, his mother, Matteo, and Diaz. General Rodriguez. The missions into the city to raise the transmission needle and connect with their brethren in space. His mind even wandered to his experience beneath the city, swimming through the sewers and winding up inside the fortress they were preparing to attack. Killing Tuhrik. Meeting Ehri. It all seemed so distant, and so close at the same time.

  Humankind had been waiting fifty years for this moment.

  Would they win the day?

  "Mech One, this is Bertha Actual, I've got visual at three o'clock."

  The CO of the second of the two infantry companies was steady as he reported the position. Lieutenant Colonel Dickerson, if Donovan remembered correctly. There had been so little time; it had been difficult to learn everyone's name.

  "Roger, Bertha Actual," Donovan replied, checking his sensors. Whatever the man had seen, it was sitting beyond his range. He switched to the mech's networked communication system, opening a channel to the rest of the armors. "Mech Two, this is Mech One. Make a right turn and head toward the visual, see if you can get them on the HUD."