Tearing Down The Statues

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Tearing Down The Statues Page 31

by Brian Bennudriti


  The seven of Thessany’s command crew ignored him, busily staring into sensor monitors or speaking into screens displaying in trickling text and popping windows the full datastream of the Spenecia battlespace.

  “I’m the Warmaster; and I’m coming for you.” The command center hummed and droned with low voices; and faces flared in the electric blue and green of their displays.

  Thessany leaned in to one of crew, a chubby young man whose uniform stretched tightly upon him, “Tubs, build me two twisters.”

  Far below, from the belly of a massive tank, an earthshaking hum sounded. The tornado would begin no bigger than a child and white with dust like a swirling mist. Yet as the intelligence swarm entrained within, Thessany’s engine built a threatening black tornado that swelled and separated from the hangar like thick soup dripping from a spoon. A second black whirlwind emerged soon after; and the two of them remained alongside one another whipping and flicking and roaring, till they flushed like a cuttlefish, ripples of silver and flash rolling from the ground up. Incredible amounts of steel shrapnel dumped from chutes along the hangar entrained into the funnels, raising a sparking and deadly sheen.

  Thessany watched the coloring and smiled, “Clear out these ramships; and slam them into that wedge. I want to get to the war engines in the rear. That’s where she’ll be.”

  Tubs did as he was instructed, lifting speeding ramships like specks of dust and casting them aside, by really just swiping his finger across a console screen. Anything lifted into the whirlwinds started shredding and catching fire almost immediately because of the shrapnel, so it was lifeless refuse that was thrown back to the battlefield in most cases. Peri’s ships were scattering to make way for the tornados; but they were fast and wide and held out little hope of escaping them. Thessany pointed his fat finger and magnified the view of a red-haired Alson lieutenant on the mural screen who was crouched in some weeds outside the battle, a field commander shouting orders to several huddled in a half circle about him and pointing with his hat in explanation. He was a young officer, looking like he was trying to settle the nerves of his men.

  “Toss him.”

  Tubs shifted with discomfort, not seeing this as funny. He was starting to sweat and smell. He and the old sensors officer looked at each other before Tubs would continue; but he ultimately did as he was instructed with a flick of his hand. Quite suddenly, one of the tornados compressed like a spring into the sky and fired a tendril of intelligent wind. Then from close enough to feel his breath, the men in the weeds watched as their young lieutenant shot backwards and into the sky, and ripped into pieces as the tornado that had plucked him settled back to the earth.

  Gaining the attention of the sensors officer beside Tubs, Thessany pointed, “Find her.”

  Peri

  “Amelin, you irritating pile! I always knew I would wind up dying next to you.” Peri eyed him with a sparkle. They stood again on the deck of her command vessel, with the Alson fleet’s datastream spread before them on the screen where she’d seen her failure at Carnabie. Amelin looked tired and had beard stubble worth several days. He tried to smile back at her.

  She grinned, “Cheer up. At least Grebel is still missing. If he was over there, we’d both be crying in our beers.”

  “How do you know?”

  Pointing, “That’s Thessany’s formation. He thinks I’m as hotheaded as he is, that we’ll try and rush his circle and break up the lines before they can enclose. It means he’ll bring up that arsenal ship from behind it as soon as we do that.”

  She took a pace step, then halted in thought, “Unfortunate though. Cassian would have been easier. He’s so…black and white. Optimizes everything. You can read him. Thessany is just..fond of toys. But he isn’t a thinker…all his moves will be textbook War College stuff. Run that as a filter when you’re answering me on what his wings will do.” Amelin nodded and swiped across the flickering datastream, sparkling like sunshine on water.

  Quite suddenly, “Twisters inbound! Two of them. Imminent to the front lines!”

  His alarm did little to help. The marbled sky filled with the killer tornados that assaulted her ramships in the fore and tossed them like toys. Peri and Amelin braced their hips against and gripped a brass bar that ran the length of the bridge at its rear, in order to steady themselves against the boneshaking that hit almost immediately. Bodies and vehicles were raining on them.

  “What are your orders?!”

  Peri inhaled slowly, “Patience.” Their war engine took another brutal assault, shaking and almost capsizing. Thuds and bangs from what pelted them were deafening; and everywhere even at this distance was the terrible roaring. They had to yell now just to hear.

  He looked up sharply, “Scatter pattern or pull back – which will it be?!”

  “Sshh.” She held a finger to her lips. Amelin creased his forehead, angry at her reaction and lost in what to do. He saw in the readings and status updates what damage was being done already.

  Because she wasn’t talking to him, Amelin could only just barely hear her say, “All right, you little whiz kids. Make something happen.”

  “Are you praying? What’s the matter with you?” He yelled; but she ignored him for the moment. The voices of her commanders were talking over one another on the comms, requesting support and orders. Some screamed in agony. The war engine shook, knocking them again almost to their side. It just wasn’t the kind of punishment they could long sustain.

  “Got one.” She punched a fist into her palm, watching the datastream keenly. Curious and angry, Amelin tried to confirm whatever she’d noticed. When he looked back at the visuals, it came together for him.

  “You have somebody hacking tornados.”

  “Yeah. And they were in freaking prison. We might not get another one if Thessany figures out how we did it, so get moving. I want a steel whirlwind smashing into his face as soon as you can make that happen...him personally, not the fleet. Go after him; and he’ll get stupid.”

  “How do I-?”

  Frowning, she braced again for the slam of debris and vehicles outside, “Quantum crypto on the command net. Renegade Squad.”

  Not having heard the name and thinking little of it, Amelin creased his forehead and looked at her, questioning. She shrugged, “Who cares what the little guys call themselves? I have a tornado!”

  Some striking images were captured and came to be representative of this battle in later times - sparking mountains of swirling whirlwinds colliding into one another like gods wrestling, slamming steel and debris and tanks as they bounced off one another. And much like it would be with gods, they stalemated.

  “No good. They’re locked together. Canceling each other out. Every time we try to pull away, they step in. He’ll just launch another, Commander. Does your ‘squad’ have more than one trick?”

  “I don’t know anything about geeks. But he won’t know either, so we’ll not see another launch till he figures us out. Too risky for him. No, they’ll hold for now. At least he’s locked up or this would have been over already. Are we still seeing what we did with the Hag?”

  “Only two battlesuits so far; but we know there can be more. Our ships are down by twenty percent; and we just got started. Peri, we don’t have the meat to hold them off. If we just sit here, he’ll grind us down with sheer numbers. If we rush him, he encircles or brings out the arsenal ship. And he’ll do that anyway, by the way, when he gets tired of waiting. We have to pull back now so we can stand again later. Give up Spenecia.”

  The Lady Commander smacked her thigh three times, pondering options. She was looking into a wall where there was nothing as if the Old Man was there, telling her to push harder…to be audacious and crueler than those opposing her.

  She exploded, “Is any of that freaking tathlum crap real?” He returned a grim frown as she asked for a miracle he could not offer. She cursed Revin and his golden corpse.

  The colossus tornados flashed with lightning and sparks; and the ships laid out on
the Spenecia fields spread to accommodate a wide berth about them. Opposing ramships were careening again into one another, shielding the larger vessels from their assaults. Here and there, Black Fire blossoms unfolded; and puffs of white hot explosions rose. The war was still on; and it was being lost. The winds had died down enough for them to be able to speak at a normal volume again.

  Amelin’s voice was tired, “It’s a bigger battle than I’d thought it would be.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” Holding her hand to her cheek in thought, “What are we doing here? I mean, who really hates enough to want this?”

  Listening to her and watching the datastream, he had to report and so interrupted, “Another gunship has gone rogue. Just drove into the tornados.”

  Nodding, she was unmoved by what he’d said, “There’s something I…but we’re not going to get the chance.”

  “What is it?” Amelin saw in her gray eyes a sadness and something fading again within her, like it had when Stendahl had seized his father’s position. Like none had seen with her before in Peri’s long service, she was flickering – growing pale and drained and then catching fire again in bursts. He was frightened because she was one of the last of the old guard and a rock. If she fell, what were they left with? She didn’t answer him.

  “Commander, we need to pull back into the city. Guerilla warfare. Use the buildings as shields and buffers, strike from hiding. It’s the only thing to do now.”

  “I’m sorry you think that’s an option. This is the easy terrain access to Alson. If we fall back, there is no end to the firepower he can stage here and pummel us into dust. Spenecia won’t stop him - they’re trying to keep their heads low and wait us out. We’re not going anywhere; and he knows it.”

  Peri at her screen, her favored position where she could see the grit on their faces and upturned tank tracks, the confused teenage riflemen ducking in panic at their first time under fire and the entirety of what she commanded, she looked noble like a warrior queen and sad.

  “If you’re asked to die, you’d like it to be for a worthy general.” She tracked a finger across, in the shape of a curve arcing around nothing in particular. “I don’t think there’s a single Talgo out here.”

  “We’re not fighting for them.” Amelin said this; but his tone didn’t bear out that he was certain of it. She didn’t acknowledge either way.

  Thessany

  “Tubs, you get me a better firewall on these twisters or so help me, I’ll steal your sandwich!” Thessany smacked his shoulder. “And come on! Why haven’t one of you ginks found Peri yet!?”

  “The transponder code you gave us for her is transmitting from more than twenty five locations. They know you have it.” The older sensors officer beside Tubs responded, with thinning white hair and a scarred neck, likely called back into service for this. A fading and blurred squadron tattoo draped around his forearm.

  Thessany smacked his palms together, “That squirmy sweating little prat lied to me. That’s impressive. Glad I didn’t pay for it.” Kicking the white haired fellow’s seat, “Well, recover. How are you gonna find her now?”

  The old-time squadron man glared back, “Don’t kick my seat.”

  “Simmer down.” Thessany squatted beside him, his knees stiff and sore. “Look, you’re all kinds of old and should know these hilljacks pretty well. Why is no one rushing my wings? Isn’t that the obvious move? I’ve taken out forty of her ramships already. How long could she wait?”

  “She knows you’ll grow impatient and do something different to give her an opening. That’s what she’s waiting on. You should study their commanders if you’re going to be anybody at this job. She outsmarted you already; and tornados are supposed to be your thing.”

  “I like you, Cobweb. Straight shooter. Don’t mouth off to me; but…keep being honest. How about this…push the rammers out deeper and stretch out the wings. Thin…three or four tanks deep. Make me a big wide mouth; and then go ahead and bring Big Daddy out.”

  “Are you not listening to me? That’s exactly what she wants you to do. If you stretch out like that, they can get easily spooked and scatter if anything happens.”

  “Spooked by what? I’d find it snuggly comforting if I was out there with a city on tracks armed with every weapon that’s been invented watching my back! What if she gets through to my second twister? I’ve changed my mind about you, Cobweb. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re missing the bigger picture.”

  Gesturing to his fleet coordinator, “Did you hear me, Bubbles? Tell Aussilo and Mithens to push out deep and fast and stretch the wings. I need a wide net. And bring out the arsenal ship…right down the center to the point of that wedge and just barrel through them. They’ll scatter right into us.”

  Cobweb shook his head, “Classic mistake. You’re like a book to her!”

  Smiling, Thessany stood, his knee making an awful dry twig-crack as he did so, “It pains me to leave you in darkness, geezer. Peri’s all they’ve got. All those other yahoos out here are a bunch of political posers and yes-men because that’s what Wentic built. When they rush my arsenal ship; and they’ll do that – of course they will, what else are they gonna do – you know who’s gonna be leading the charge. I find her, this whole thing is over now.”

  “You’re flushing her out.” Cobweb watched Thessany with a very slight admiration. Maybe there was more there than bluster.

  Thessany grabbed a ceramic coffee mug, a blue and yellow glazed one with an offensive cartoon graphic of a man violating a skull on its side. He took a sip and leaned in closely to Tubs. He leaned in quite closely and held the mug under the young man’s nose, such that the steam and scent of it were unmistakeable, not quite close enough for his nose’s tip to get wet. Tubs nervously stared directly into his console, swiping and tapping in a rushed and determined tack to regain full control of the tornado guidance intelligence. He was trying to ignore his Warmaster, though that was getting impossible.

  “Tubs, I’ve never had to deal with losing my twisters before; and I’m just wondering why this problem is new with you.” Tubs held his eyes firmly to his console, unsure whether to say anything or defend himself would help. A clear streak of sweat dropped in a jagged trail across his cheek and down the bridge of his nose to drip off in a plink into the black coffee inside.

  “Look up at that.” Thessany meant the battle scene on the gargantuan screen before them all. Tubs reluctantly glanced, then returned to his prayerful bow. “If we’re not steering all my twisters before I finish this drink, I’m going to put you in the rustiest unarmed wagon I have and send you out into that…after I cut off your romantic hand. I want my tornados back.”

  Peri

  “Commander, he’s doing it. The arsenal ship is emerging from the battlegroup’s rear formation.” Amelin was pointing at jumbling numbers and text in the datastream as if it was an image. His young voice betrayed his fear. “Their wings are coming forward.”

  Peri nodded, “He’ll come down the center with it. What about our twister – can you break it away?”

  “They keep heading us off. Your hackers are saying we’ll lose control of it any time now.”

  She cursed and punched the screen, “How about the droptroopers. Has anybody gotten past their rear guard?”

  “Negative. They’re shooting them out of the sky.”

  “Push, man! Tell them to push!”

  “It isn’t a matter of pushing. We’ve lost another fifteen ramships; and there are deserters now. Pull back!”

  When she didn’t answer, he raised his voice, no doubt thinking of how she’d withered just hours before at Carnabie, “Commander, we’re outgunned and outnumbered! We need to do something different or we’re done now!”

  She stood directly in front of the main screen, sliding her hands across the jostling text and symbols looking for something. “Start looking, you slug! Look in here and find me something I can use!”

  Leaving his console, Amelin joined her where she stood, h
opelessly peering alongside. She looked older just then than ever, clumsily tossing bits of data and code like rummaging through an old chest. He’d told her before her use of the datastream was more blunt sledge than detailed clockwork; and it was her way now at Spenecia, with a grotesque desperation and cursing at nothing. She cursed Revin; and she cursed him. She smacked the screen when she didn’t know how to inject an ant-colony model into some logistics data. Peri was looking for something; but it was easy to imagine there was nothing there to find.

  The war engine shook again at a collision. Ramships had made it to them.

  “Commander.” Amelin put his hand on her wrist. It was actually the first time he’d ever touched her. She looked at him, a bit wild-eyed. “I can find it. I can. You have to tell me what you’re looking for.”

  Peri glanced at her wrist where he held her. There weren’t many she’d allow to do what he was doing just then. “I can take out the arsenal ship. Sheet diamond all around except for the top where the vents are. Typical Tanith engineering, not thinking about mogs. I’m gonna take eighteen of them right on top of her and punch through the roof. Then we’ll board, blast as deep in as we can, and freaking blow ourselves up.”

 

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