❦
The Baslandic reserve troops arrived in St. Rupert's later that day, just a few hours after Sergeant Crumb’s polychromatic demise. They were exhausted from the long march from Highdam.
Hank ordered his men in a wide encircling action and then, having surrounded the Baslanders, pushed them backward into the Devil's Maw. The Albionians’ righteous mutant creation ate well that day, devouring scores of Baslanders.
Hank rounded up the rest as prisoners, thinking they could be traded for Albionian hostages. Or perhaps fed to the next Devil's Maw. Hank imagined it planted in the heart of Highdam itself, where they would remember for generations the Albionians as a righteous scourge.
Titan arrived an hour later. The assault-helo that airlifted the huge steel crate did not hover over the drop site for a moment too long. It alighted and buzzed off immediately, as if fleeing the inevitable explosion that would result when the experimental weapon was activated.
But Hank and the Prairie Dogs did not fear Titan. They’d seen firsthand the Rainbow Weapon the Baslanders now had at their disposal. They knew Titan was their only salvation for vanquishing their enemies.
The men went to work dismantling the heavy shell of the crate. Once they’d opened it, Titan stood like a steel gladiator on the cracked dirt of the plain, the harsh sun reflecting off its dull armor. The light contrasted with the craters of hexgun roto-turrets and dilithium rocket cluster apertures that pockmarked its body.
Surely this weapon is unstoppable, Sergeant Bard, who had been field promoted to replace Crumb, thought to the others. It is our salvation.
The men cheered their agreement in a long chorus of “blergs” and “moophs”. The Baslandic prisoners looked on uncertainly.
I shall operate Titan, Hank announced. None of the men dissented.
They hoisted him up to the command pod. He eased himself into the tight confines, strapped himself in, and took a deep breath. Time to power up the machine. None of the men below had the slightest doubt, and this buoyed him. As Bard had said, surely Titan was their salvation. And he, Hank, was their prophet, sent by East Albion to ravage and defile Basland for the sins of the war.
Incoming! one of the men thought loudly, and Hank tried to look up, craning his head beneath his helmet. He could see straight out of the mech’s canopy well enough, but he had no visibility above or to either side. He pulled back on one of the levers, hoping to bend the whole robot at the waist. The machine moved, turning to look upward, like an old man with a bad back.
But it wasn’t the Rainbow Weapon incoming; it was another mech, this one long and sleek. Where Titan was bulky and solid, with an obvious command pod, this Baslandic design was elegant and human-looking. Its operator was integrated seamlessly.
Hank resolved at that moment to destroy it, to put an end, once and for all, to this war. He would destroy their mech and then march to Highdam and destroy their city as well.
❦
The Ultimate Sacrifice
The battle between Titan and Androidicus raged for just under fifteen minutes. Bridget landed Androidicus safely in front of the Devil's Maw and released a salvo of explosive fire that tore through the Prairie Dogs deployed on the opposite side.
Hank responded by hovering Titan across the mouth of the pit and bringing the heavier robot down on top of Androidicus. Pinned there, Bridget tried to escape by applying full power to her leg rockets. But the robot wouldn’t budge beneath Titan’s weight, and the blast only served to tear away the edge of the pit.
The two robots began to slide down. Hank attempted to step off of Androidicus to the stable ground above, but the servo in Titan’s left knee blew out under the pressure of the maneuver, uncoiling a long spool of heavy-duty cabling. As he twisted away, panicked by the klaxons now blaring in the cockpit, the cabling wound around Androidicus.
Bridget, for her part, tried to eject, hoping to watch from on top of the pit as the two mechs slid to the bottom. The ejection seat functioned as expected, blowing her small pod clear of the robot. But it immediately tangled up in the cabling wound about the mechs. She manually opened the hatch and clamored out.
Hank powered up Titan’s left arm to push away Androidicus, but instead flexed the arm and tightened the cabling further. The escape pod was pulled upward and suspended in the air directly in front of his cockpit. He saw the pilot of Androidicus climbing out. He groped about the interior of the cockpit for his own ejection seat. Finding none, he unbuckled himself and pushed open the hatch.
By the time Hank opened Titan, Bridget had already leapt from the escape pod to the side of the pit. She looked back and saw the Albionian pilot jump to the other side of the pit and begin scrambling up. She followed suit and started to climb, but the sinkhole was expanding, perhaps trying to accommodate its huge incoming meal.
Hank was exhausted. The sand gave way with every clawing step, and he slid down two meters for every one he ascended. He turned and looked across the Devil’s Maw, at the Baslandic pilot on the other side. The pilot had removed the flight suit’s helmet, and he saw for the first time that it was a woman his age.
Bridget looked back and saw the Albionian pilot watching her. The climb out of the pit was getting more difficult as the sides grew steeper. She saw that the Albionian mech’s left leg, the one that had twisted on top of Androidicus, was now dislocated. Its long cabling trailed behind on either side. If the Albionian pilot remotely triggered its booster, it would pull free and provide her—and him—a means of escape from the pit.
She waved to get his attention. “Engage the starboard boot thruster!” she yelled across the chasm between them. “We can pull free with the servo cables!”
She had his attention, but she had no idea whether he’d heard.
“Don’t you have a remote ignition device?” she yelled, even louder. “Engage it!”
Hank did not know whether Titan had a remote ignition device. Or why it would, since it was intended to be manned by a soldier inside. But he was not an engineer. Perhaps the Baslandic pilot knew something he did not. Perhaps her plan would work. Perhaps they could escape together.
But they only had a few moments more before both mechs would be pulled into the mouth below. He needed the Baslander’s help to figure out an alternative to the remote ignition.
“Blerg?” he yelled back at her. “Moomph ratta moop blamp!”
The hungry beast below them had begun to devour the mechs, rending the metal in its grotesque jaws.
Bridget imagined the pressure exerted by that great mouth and then—too late—remembered the compact fusion reactor on her mech’s back. Even if they escaped the pit there would be no escaping the nuclear explosion.
She was aware for a split second of a flash as the fusion unit detonated.
❦
The blast destroyed both mechs along with the two young pilots. It annihilated what remained of the Albionian and Baslandic armies. And it leveled the greater part of the borderlands between the two countries.
It would be another generation before war renewed between the two nations, this time waged with longbows and trebuchets.
Lisbeth
❦
SELENIA PAZ
“What’s done cannot be undone.”
- LADY MACBETH, MACBETH
Act I
The tree groaned as it released the last of its leaves to the wind. In the distance the sun was giving in to sleep, the night ready to come alive. The children ran and tossed sweet breads at each other until their mothers slapped their hands, pointing to the graves. Lisbeth kneeled in front of her parents’ tombstones, roughly made from stacked concrete blocks and etched clumsily, but luminous with soft flowers and packs of tamales tied with ribbons.
She looked around to search for Abuelo’s red flannel shirt and Abuela’s bright green dress, and, when she was certain they were not near, reached over to touch the tombstones. Closing her eyes, Lisbeth imagined the souls of her parents coming through the concrete, if only for tonight.
Her throat tightened and she pulled away.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up. Bianca was wearing her white dress with lace at the bottom. Lisbeth tried not to notice the dirt on Bianca’s knees, and rose and brushed off her own. Bianca shivered with excitement.
“So, can you come?” she asked in a whisper.
Lisbeth looked around. She had not asked, but she was sure Abuelo would let her. The tents around the cemetery were almost all up, decorated with bright papel picado and glowing lights that were attracting small bugs.
“Come on, I will ask them with you,” Bianca said, grabbing Lisbeth’s hand and looking around.
Their feet crunched on dirt and pebbles as they walked around the cemetery. Children were already running in and out of tents with candies and drinks, woven cloths and paper flowers. Some sneaked behind trees to eat the candies; others tucked the paper flowers into the crooks of the boughs, only to chase after them when the wind claimed them for itself.
Lisbeth waved as they passed some of the people, trying to smile and nod her greetings while looking for her grandparents. She saw a flash of green and red and pointed. “There!” she said to Bianca, and the pair cut through the trees to catch up.
As they approached, Abuelo turned and raised an eyebrow. Bianca’s mouth opened slightly, but she snapped it shut and looked over at Lisbeth, giving her a chance to speak first.
“Can I…” Lisbeth began, but hesitated. She looked over at the tents, and Abuelo smiled a small smile. Abuela nudged him in the ribs and he stuck his hand in his front pocket, fiddling around with papers and tissue and keys and buttons and rocks and who knew what else. He pulled out a few coins and sorted them, handing some to Lisbeth. She looked over them quickly. Ten pesos! Almost enough to visit ten tents, if she only went to the cheapest, and enough for more than ten candies in some of the tents.
Bianca pulled her hand and they turned and ran, Abuelo’s chuckling laughter following them on the wind. Some people had brought their dogs and cats to visit family, placing them on soft blankets to keep them warm as the night became chillier. Lisbeth rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm them and hoped it would not rain.
Lisbeth had been to every Día de los Muertos gathering at the cemetery since she could remember, first to remember her dog and the aunt that she never knew, the daughter her grandparents had lost. There was even a small bump in the dirt by a tree where Abuelo had helped Lisbeth bury a baby chick that had died when she was five. Now, she came to see the graves of her mother and father.
Lisbeth looked over at Bianca. Their parents had been riding the same bus to the consulado in Juarez when they say it crashed.
Bianca shook Lisbeth out of her reverie. “Ven!” she said, her voice breathless. The tents were just outside the crooked metal gate that surrounded the cemetery. She could hear coins clinking and plastic wrappers crumpling. Somewhere, someone dropped a glass bottle and it shattered on the rocks. A boy cried and Lisbeth guessed he had probably tripped and dropped his soda. Her fingers gripped the coins and she looked around, trying to decide which tents to visit.
Bianca pointed to a large white tent with pink paper flowers. Panaderia Doña Alba, it read in large pink letters. “Come on!” she said, “I want to buy a buñuelo while they’re still hot.”
The woman behind the counter was wearing a bright yellow dress with black vines decorating the collar. “Un buñuelo,” Bianca said to her.
Lisbeth took a step closer, looking at her dress, and the lady smiled. “You can touch the vines, if you like.” She bent her neck over the counter. Lisbeth felt the vines, bumpy under her fingers, and she smiled back. She hoped one day she could have something so beautiful.
“Dos pesos,” the lady told Bianca, who reached into a small pouch and dropped a coin into the woman’s hand.
Reflexively, Lisbeth clutched her hand to her chest and Bianca laughed. “I’ll give you some of my buñuelo if you want to save your money for the other tents,” she said. Lisbeth blushed. Bianca always knew what she was thinking. She took the piece that Bianca offered her and let it sit in her mouth, tasting the warmth and cinnamon and sugar all at once.
Bianca stopped at the next tent and bought a bottle of soda, giving Lisbeth a sip and saving the empty bottle in her pouch to use for canicas when she got back home. Lisbeth looked around at the tents selling tamarindo and Duvalín, sweet calaveras de azúcar and porcelain sugar skulls for decoration. Her eyes paused for a moment when she spotted the mazapan candies on one of the counters. Two for one peso. Lisbeth fiddled with the coins in her hand and looked over at another tent, this one green-and-white striped, with the words Muñecas del Mundo on it. She walked toward it, her eyes roaming over all the dolls on the shelves. There were some with pants and shirts and others with bright dresses and others that came with animals: dogs, sheep, and even frogs.
Lisbeth had always wanted a doll. She read the sign on the front of the tent: diez pesos each. She looked at the coins in her hand and her heart felt heavy. That was all the money she had.
Bianca came over with two bags full of candies. “Here,” she said, handing a bag to Lisbeth. “So you won’t miss out on the candies.” She looked up at the tent and poked Lisbeth with her elbow. “Ándale,” she said, pointing to the doll with the dog. “You should get that one!” She pushed Lisbeth forward and the coins jingled in Lisbeth’s hand again.
Just then there was a noise to their right. They turned to see a man stumbling out of a large tent with gold papel picado all around it. He stood for a moment, looking around, and Bianca pointed. “He bumped into that boy,” she whispered. The boy was getting up and the man shook his head and ran off.
Lisbeth moved closer to the tent and saw gold lettering written across the top of the opening: Las Tres Hermanas. Lisbeth unconsciously moved forward a few steps, but Bianca pulled her back. The boy who had been knocked over was now going into the tent with a tall woman. Before the flap closed, she looked over at them and winked.
Lisbeth startled, jumping up slightly, and took a few more steps forward. Bianca pulled her back again. “Don’t waste your money on that!” she scolded.
“What do you mean?” Lisbeth had heard of the three sisters, but all she knew was that people said they could predict the future. “Maybe they can really see the future,” she said quietly.
“Do you think if they could really see the future they would be taking money from little kids like that? Why don’t they predict something big and make a lot of money so they don’t have to work anymore?” Bianca asked.
“Maybe it doesn’t work like that,” Lisbeth answered, her eyes brightening.
“Then how?” Bianca asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they can’t help themselves like that.”
“Well, it looks like they are helping themselves,” Bianca said. She sighed. “I think you should get that doll. But if you want to go, get in line already so you can go as soon as that boy leaves, and then we can go see the other tents.”
They stood in front of the tent for a few minutes, trying to find a sign that told them the price of a reading.
“Maybe we should leave,” Bianca began. “Maybe it’s too much.”
Lisbeth shook her head. “No, if that boy could go in and pay, I’m sure I have enough.”
Bianca said no more, but a small frown formed on her face.
The tall woman opened the tent flap and smiled. “Lista?” she asked.
Lisbeth nodded.
Bianca grabbed her arm once more and pulled her back. She looked around. “But that boy is still in there,” she said.
The lady raised one eyebrow.
Bianca looked down. “The boy, the one who went in there before us,” she said softly.
“He went another way,” the lady answered. “Out the back.” Her smile had faded slightly.
She opened the tent flap once more, and Lisbeth followed her inside, Bianca behind her.
“I don’t know, Lisbeth. We can still go back, we can…
” Her voice trailed off as they stared at the beautiful golden draperies decorating the inside of the tent. There were tables and shelves with trinkets, and a large glass bowl with coins. Two other women sat at a table at the center of the tent. The first woman joined them.
“I am Amana, and these are my sisters, Marzia and Catalina,” she said, gesturing first to the red-haired woman and then to the curly-haired woman on the right. A deck of cards sat at the center of the table, and two chairs sat facing the sisters.
“Finally we meet you, Lisbeth and Bianca. We have been waiting a long time,” Amana said.
Bianca stepped back, grabbing Lisbeth’s wrist. Amana’s lips pulled up, and for a moment Bianca thought she heard laughter.
Marzia moved forward in her chair. “We have been waiting a long time to tell your future.”
“Your great future,” Amana said.
Catalina looked down at the deck of cards on the table. “Sit, please,” she said, not looking at them.
Bianca directed her question to her. “But we don’t even know how much this fortune will cost, and I used up the last of my money on the candies.”
“Oh, it won’t cost you any money,” Catalina sighed.
“Yes, for you, no charge,” Marzia smiled.
“Sit, please,” Amana echoed her sister.
Bianca hesitated, but did not want to leave Lisbeth alone in the tent. She looked around, but she couldn’t tell if the wrinkles in the cloth walls could be exits or if there really was only one entrance—through the front.
Catalina gathered up the cards and set them aside.
Lisbeth asked, “But how will you tell our fortune without the cards?”
“We have had a message for you girls for a long time now, Lisbeth and Bianca. Now listen carefully, because you will only hear it once tonight,” Amana said. She turned to Catalina and nodded.
Catalina unrolled a piece of paper, and the three sisters read:
“You will soar to heights
Perchance to Dream Page 8