by T. C. Edge
I close my mind to the cruelty of it, and march off to get the job done.
26
Brie
The night is late and cold, our soldiers on standby.
With the civilian population evacuated below ground to the Oasis, accessible only via a series of highly secure passageways and elevator systems in the southern part of Inner Haven, only the military personnel remain, awaiting the call to action.
Outside of the city, hidden in position, our sentries wait, secretly watching the passage to the underlands. So far, there have been reports from several other sentry positions of late night enemy troop movements, only just spotted through the mists that linger on cold nights like this.
Everything, so far, is speaking of an attack tonight...
Last night, the raids went to plan, several Con-Cops taken, their minds excavated for information. They have discovered it, I know, the final piece of the puzzle they've been searching for. It will lead them below ground, and right to where we stand.
But by the time they get here, we will be gone. And they shall realise the folly of their hubris. Witness the result of their dreadful, monstrous plan to massacre our entire people.
I craft my teeth into a snarl at the thought. Genocide. That has been their goal all along...
All the best fighters we have are gathered in position now, led by their primary commanders. Ares and his Neoromans, fighting this time in their favoured armour. Colonel Hatcher and his Stalkers, the hundred or so of them wreathed in black, exuding their natural, detached menace. They stand to one side, away from the rest of us, just waiting to be unleashed. And even now, despite being under the explicit command of my grandmother, many of our soldiers look upon them with distrustful, doubting eyes.
They need not. Their loyalty is, I know, unquestioned. It is, in fact, not even in their hands. Conditioned to follow orders, to act upon command, they have been programmed now to protect this city and its people. And I, for one, am delighted to have them alongside us.
The rest of our troops are made up of the fighters of the Nameless, and the best among the City Guard. Phasers, as with the ambush in the woods, have been favoured, though others with great experience, skill, and fighting prowess have been retained. It is the best we can muster, though remains a number far below what the enemy could field.
We have little more than five hundred. They have a force of nearly ten times that. Yet with some of their best warriors away, we may just have a window to make them pay...
Within the City Guard HQ, several of our leaders gather, the control room filled now with only a smattering of attendants and staff, the rest hastily joining the main population down in our sprawling sanctum. At one of the comms stations, a technician listens carefully to updates, patched through to the various sentry positions watching over the enemy.
I pace at the back, as Secretary Burns, Commander Hendricks, and the Deputy Commander, Rycard, gather around.
"We're getting more information, sir," says the technician, looking to Secretary Burns.
The old Mind-Manipulator leans forward, his cold blue eyes strained and weary. "Go ahead, soldier."
"It's the northwest position, sir," the man says, hearing reports through his headphones. "They're saying a large group of soldiers are moving to the west. They might be headed for the breach in the wall in that direction."
I stop my pacing and step in, tense. "We have soldiers there, right?"
"Enough to hold it for a bit," nods Hendricks. "But not for long. We didn't anticipate that they'd attack that way." He frowns, looking to me. "Are you certain of what you found in Herald Perses's head?" he asks.
"Yes," I say. "Completely certain."
"Unless it's a trick?" suggests Rycard. "A countermeasure of their own, in case a senior member of their army was captured?"
I feel a slight tension gripping at my chest at the idea. It can be hard, sometimes, determining what's real and what isn't, when dealing solely with mental extraction.
"We have to assume it's merely another part of their plan," says Burns, calming things. "Perhaps it's a two pronged attack. Assault the breach with a large force, while a smaller one infiltrates through the underlands in secret?"
"That sounds possible," agrees Hendricks. "But why wouldn't you have found this information too, Brie?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's a newer part of the plan, something Perses wasn't aware of."
"I'm not even sure it matters now, anyway," says Rycard, always reliably on my side. He drops the quickest of winks at me, using his good remaining eye. Yes, he's lost half his sight, and one of four limbs, but his good humour has never been severed. "If they're making a move now, then we have to react to it. Hopefully, as Secretary Burns says, it's merely an embellished part of the original plan."
The others nod in agreement, and we turn our attention back to the technician, waiting patiently to speak.
"Yes, soldier," says Burns. "Go ahead."
"They're getting an estimate of the size of the force, sir," he says, sounding anxious. "It looks like it's in the multiple hundreds, Mr Secretary. Well over five hundred by what our sentries can determine."
Burns's eyes narrow as he turns again to look at us. "How many men guarding the breach?" he asks, guiding his eyes to Hendricks.
"Fifty," Hendricks replies immediately. He looks to Rycard for confirmation.
The half-Hawk nods. "Technically, fifty two, sir," he says. "They're well armed but may not last long against an assault of that kind."
"Not long at all," Burns muses. "Perhaps we should bolster our forces there."
"It could be a lure," offers Hendricks. "Designed specifically to stretch our forces. It might be better to just let them through."
"Withdraw our men?" asks Burns, surprised but seeming almost interested by the idea.
"The city is abandoned," nods Hendricks. "What damage can they do by entering? It will only distance them from their own encampment, making it easier for us to strike at..."
"Sir, we have reports of more enemy movement," comes the voice of the radio technician once more. Our eyes and attention dash back towards him. "It's a smaller unit," he says. "It looks...it looks like they might be heading for the old town, sir."
"The old town of the Nameless," I say, my voice breathy. "The secret entrance?"
We stop for a moment in our discussions, waiting for more news to come in. Over the man's headphones the sound of crackled, whispered conversations can be heard. The technician listens carefully, nodding, before turning to us once again.
"There are only a hundred, maybe less, in the force," he says. "It's hard to tell, but the lookouts think they have spotted the Fire Elementals."
"Then they're progressing with the plan as we suspected," says Burns, his voice whispery, distant, and yet hopeful at the same time. He begins nodding to himself, thinking. "We leave our men at the breach," he says. "They will wait there, and provide distraction if and when the enemy engage. How long do you imagine it will take this smaller force to move through the underlands?" The question is directed at me. I've had the most experience down there.
"If they follow the right route, then it should take a couple of hours or so," I say. "A bit longer if they lose their way. Shorter if they're only using Dashers."
"Well, we know they're not," says Rycard. "The Fire Elementals are essential to their plan. And, in any case, it's not easy to move at speed down there. In some places, yes, but not in others. It can be tight, Brie, as you know."
"And areas are collapsed?" adds Hendricks, posing the comment as more of a question.
I nod. "Many routes are collapsed, but there is a way through. If they have scanned the minds of those Con-Cops properly, they'll have discovered the correct route. We made sure of that, didn't we Leyton?"
"We most certainly did, Brie," says Burns lightly. "This, at least, would confirm that they have taken the bait." He turns back to the technician once again. "Update? Are they still nearing the town."
&nb
sp; "Yes, sir," says the man. "The mists are thickening as they go, but their general movement is clear enough."
Good thing we had some lookouts secretly posted out there, I think to myself. With the hanging mists, and the continued bombardment still spilling smoke into the air, they'd be impossible to see from the walls. We had the good sense to ensure the route was being watched from afar, some of our most skilled Hawk and Dasher hybrids - what we call Hawkers - out there on watch, hidden from view.
"So, over five hundred moving for the breach, and another hundred plus of their very best soldiers heading for the underlands," says Burns, summing up. "That would leave, what, some four thousand remaining at their encampment?"
"Roughly that," Rycard says, "if our estimates have been accurate so far."
"But many, even most, of those men are inexperienced," I say. "I felt it very clearly among some of their sentry guards a few nights back. They're not hardened warriors like the men we have. I'd take five hundred of our own against four thousand of theirs any day of the week."
"But the window will be narrow," says Hendricks, drawing back some of my enthusiasm. "We won't have long to assault their camp and their army before their more gifted warriors return. At that point, we may find ourselves overrun."
"And who's to say even they're a match for us?" I ask, baring my teeth, looking at the older men. "We took out hundreds of their men during the ambush, and they were supposedly some of their best. And you saw what Ares did to Atlas yesterday. That man was one of their Chosen, one of their very finest warriors. And Ares took him down like he was nothing. If that's the benchmark, I'm not afraid at all..."
"We cannot hold everyone to the same yardstick, Brie," says Hendricks, continuing to temper my growing confidence. Perhaps rightly, I don't know. I am starting to get quite pumped right now. "Ares is a rare case, and isn't unbeatable. Yes, we have the Neoromans. Yes, we have the Stalkers. And yes, we have a host of skilled and experienced hybrids. But the fact is, they vastly outnumber us, and are sure to have highly capable soldiers of their own."
He turns his eyes around us, and lowers his voice. "If these Fire Elementals reach the battlefield, who knows what sort of damage they can do. We mustn't lose ourselves to hubris. We have to be sensible with the resources we have."
I see Burns nodding along. He draws a breath and adds his voice. "I agree with Commander Hendricks," he says sagely. "Overconfidence will not serve us here. Our strategy is not to win the war outright tonight, but to make them suffer such losses, and obliterate their morale to such an extent, that they have no choice but to tuck tail and run. A prolonged engagement will expose our own flaws and limitations. We have to play to our strengths."
"Fine," I say, letting out a slight huff. I mean, no one likes being disagreed with, do they? "I agree with you both, and I'm not being purposefully overzealous. I just...I just have a good feeling about this. I'm excited to get out there."
My words, this time, cause the others to smile. "You sound like a Neoroman," Rycard says. "I think your friend Captain Marcus is rubbing off on you."
I smile at the thought. "Zander, more like," I say, my voice growing small. "He was like this. I...I think I relish the fight like he used to."
And maybe, I think, Adryan is right. I have changed. I know I have. Maybe...maybe we're just not meant to be...
With the adrenaline flowing through me, the thought doesn't hurt me like I'd expect it to. Yes, when this passes, and we finally sit down to talk things through, I'll probably think differently. But right now, no. Right now, all I can think about is getting out there.
And kicking some Olympian ass.
"Sir," comes the voice of the technician once again, drawing our attention back to him. "It looks like they are nearing the entrance to the underlands. The other force is moving towards a position north of the breach."
"Then we can be quite clear of their intentions," Burns says. "Advise the soldiers at the breach to hold firm. If the enemy probe, hold them back. If they storm the breach with a full force, tell them to mow down as many as possible, but don't be reckless with their lives. I suspect this is being planned as a possible diversion to draw our attention from their true purpose."
"I agree, sir," says Rycard. "But I suspect it's also to take out anyone who escapes the carnage they expect to create in Inner Haven. This appears to be a plan to exterminate us in our entirety. I don't think they want anyone getting away."
"Then let us show them just how ferocious a cornered animal can be," growls Burns. He turns his eyes to Commander Hendricks and myself. "You know exactly what to do, both of you," he says. "The wall is our primary target. Use everything we have to assault it, and draw them out. Be mindful of their defences, and try to take out the snipers on top of the wall. We can't know whether their main cannons will be effective at close range. Try to get close enough so that they are rendered useless. Adapt to what you see out there."
"Of course, Leyton," grunts Hendricks, nodding to his superior. "We will make this city proud."
"I'm certain of it, Glenn," Burns responds. "As for the other raids, probe their flanks with smaller groups, lure out their attacks, and draw them to the main fight. This isn't about destroying their base so much as their soldiers. We will bring everything we have down on them, and show them what we are truly made of. We are New Haven. We have been targeted before, and are still here. This northern army does not make us quiver. We stand tall, and united, in the face of their threat."
I feel my chest beginning to rise and fall at the intensity, the passion of his words. He looks at me with that glint in his eye, an almost paternal smile on his face. He is a man I admire and respect a great deal, a man with whom I've been through a lot. It will be my honour to fulfil his orders. To see this city safe.
"Now, you'd best be getting off," Burns finishes, his eyes dashing for the door. "The night is late, and we don't have much time to spare. In roughly two hours' time, we will attack. I shall stay here for a while with Deputy Rycard to confirm the movement of the enemy. We have our Bats above ground, lining their proposed route. They will be listening for movement below, and will update me on the enemy's progress. I shall feed it to you at the eastern gate. You'll know when to make your move."
"Just make sure you're gone before they get here," I say to him, my eyes turning to Rycard as well. "Give yourselves enough time to get away."
"We will, Brie," Burns says, nodding his appreciation at my concern. "Once we're certain of their path and progress, we'll displace, and give the final order for you to begin your march to the enemy camp. This night will go well for us," he says defiantly. "We cannot afford anything else."
Our small group of leaders dip our chins at one another in solidarity, our eyes steadfast with resolve, no space for doubt now.
"Now go," finishes Burns. "And good luck. It is time, once again, for our brave men and women to become heroes."
At those words, and with a quick hug from Rycard, and a whisper in my ear to be safe, I step away with Commander Hendricks, ready to join the rest of the troop below.
27
Brie
Our troops begin to separate as we sneak quickly through the darkness, the enemy encampment visible through the sparse trees and rock formations, over the mounds and hills that provide it with natural cover.
It glows with a faint and distant light, a beacon for us to follow. Soon, no doubt, the enemy sentries will spot our approach. By then, it'll be too late.
Our surprise will already have been sprung.
The main force moves onwards, led by our senior figures. Ares and his Neoromans. Hatcher and his Stalkers. Hendricks and the City Guards under his command. Out here, the latter is senior above all, though Ares and his men don't fall quite so neatly under his jurisdiction. The rest of us, me and the Nameless hybrids and soldiers included, will follow his commands if and when they come.
In truth, however, we all know our roles, determined as a collective when we discussed how to approach this attac
k. Target the wall. Raid the outlying sentry posts. Draw them out into a fight on the plains. Kill as many as we possibly can.
It really is as simple as that.
Several smaller groups now slip off to see through their purpose, tasked with attacking the enemy sentry positions at various points. According to the final report from Secretary Burns, given only minutes ago as we waited at the eastern gate, the breach is now being probed at by the enemy stationed there, though without much conviction. Only potshots and the occasional volley of gunfire is being sent at them, as if intended only to distract us from something else.
Well, we know exactly what that is, don't we? The group in the underlands are nearing the core. Our Bats have heard them, followed their movement from the surface. In bare minutes only, they'll be arriving at the heart of Inner Haven to find it empty. Now, we know, is the time to begin our assault.
The light of the enemy encampment begins to brighten as we near, the night still thick with a low hanging mist, setting the air with an ethereal glow. They probably think it's helped conceal their approach. In fact, all it's done is conceal ours.
In the distance now, my ears pick up the lightest chattering of gunfire, telling of the forces attacking the breach in the city's outer wall. It seems to be growing stronger, suggesting they're attacking with a little more intent. I rush along, in the midst of our men, the wall to the enemy base beginning to loom, a black barrier stretched out left and right between the hills. And ahead of it, the wide plains rolling and undulating towards New Haven itself, a vast landscape on which the war will turn.
I hear whispers spreading along our lines as we begin to approach, rising over the crest of a small hill. I turn to Marcus, by my side as he so often is, and see his eyes narrow, his ears twitching as Kira's do when they take in some distant sound us mortals couldn't ever hope to hear.