“We sent down drones. We studied their language and picked up some clues to their social structure.”
“A social structure that was ready to implode. They had no natural prey left and had resorted to killing and eating themselves. What have they become now that they have a whole world of prey and no natural enemies?”
Lebac stared at him as Havlock got up and dressed. “What if we leave Tricor? A caravan might pull them away from the city.”
“It might. I have a gut feeling they know who we are and where we come from. My guess is that it’s us they’re after, not the locals. But . . . a caravan wouldn’t stand a chance against a thousand gleasons.”
“We can’t just pick up and leave the planet. That won’t solve Tranxte’s problems either.” Lebac ran a hand through his hair. “I’m only guessing at all this, and I don’t have any good suggestions yet. We need to put our heads together.”
“Not just ours,” Havlock replied. “The locals deserve a say in this.”
* * * * *
He and Lebac waited outside the operations center on the transporter. When Galborae, Atiana, and Turmae arrived, Havlock pulled all of them into an adjacent conference room and introduced Major Lebac who would brief them. None of them sat—this would not be a long meeting.
Lebac held nothing back, even making it clear that the gleasons were probably coming after marines, not the people of Tricor. When he was done, everyone’s eyes went to Atiana.
She did not miss the implications and turned away from them deep in thought. She called Turmae to join her across the room. The two of them held a long discussion, then returned. Havlock was the primary focus of her words.
“In the dream yesterday, we discussed what the gleasons would do if you attacked all of them at once. We decided they would rise up and fight to the very end. Tell me—is what they’ve done to my people any different? They’ve holed us up inside our walls, we’re starving, we’re dying of disease, and they take small numbers of us every day at their leisure. We can’t continue like this. It’s our backs that are up against the wall.”
In a lower voice, she said, “I can wish you’d led them to some other kingdom, but you didn’t. You brought them to me. I will fight.”
Silence descended on the room, a long silence. Havlock and Galborae’s eyes met, Galborae’s eyes full of pride for his queen. Too, Havlock sensed a deep foreboding of what was to come in Galborae’s eyes.
Havlock broke the silence. “I’d like all of you to join me in my operations center. It will seem strange to you, very strange, but if you can get past the strangeness, you will come away with a clearer view of what we’re up against. It will help us formulate a plan.”
He led them into a weirdly dark room that was lit only by bright blue lines of light in the air and from the light coming from workstations scattered around the room. He walked them farther into the room until they stood close to the blue lines of light. He gave them time to look, then held a hand out to Lebac.
Lebac lifted an arm and traced some of those lines of light with a finger. “This is your land, all of it surrounded by water. We call it a continent.” When he believed they understood the picture, he reached out with both hands toward the lines, then spread his arms several times. The view expanded until only Atiana’s province showed, then he repeated the process until a detailed presentation of Tricor was all that showed. When he saw that they understood the picture, if not the technology, he moved his arms and brought the display back out a little.
He spoke a command, and tiny white dots appeared, lots of them. “The white dots are life-forms,” he said. “Each of them represents a living being.” He issued another command and tiny arrows extended from many of the white dots. “The arrows indicate direction of movement of the life-forms. Many of them, maybe most of them, are animals. If there’s no arrow, the animal is not moving.”
He issued another command and many of the white dots dropped from the display. “The life-forms that remain all had arrows pointed toward Tricor,” he said.
The picture spoke for itself. Lots and lots of life-forms were moving toward Tricor.
“This represents what’s happening right now. I’m going to move the positions of the life-forms ahead three days in the direction of their arrows. It will be a close approximation of the situation three days from now.”
He spoke another command and the presentation reset itself. Tricor was, essentially, surrounded by an irregularly shaped mass of white dots. He gave them a moment, then reached out and pushed his arms wide, moving the display closer until only Tricor and its immediate surroundings showed.
He did not need to speak. Even Galborae, who did not understand the concept of thousands, understood the concept of many and many.
Captain M’Kind came from behind a console and stepped up to the display beside Lebac. His upper hands stopped their preening. “A battle of this scale against the gleasons was never a part of our assignment. Against most other armies I’d look forward to the challenge, but against gleasons I cannot say we will prevail. If we do fight, the cost to Tricor will be enormous. We’re prepared to withdraw if that is your decision.”
Atiana lifted wide eyes to Turmae, one of the few times any of them had seen her truly uncertain. “Captain?”
Turmae turned and studied the display while he considered. When he turned back to her, he spoke with confidence. “The facts have not changed even if our understanding of them has. Our people will not survive two more years under present conditions. If we have to fight, we should fight while we’re strong.”
She stared long at him. Havlock felt for her, understanding that while the decisions he made would be born by soldiers whose job was to fight, her decision would commit the whole of her people—soldiers, women, children, the old, and the infirm.
She considered for a long time, but in the end she nodded her head almost imperceptibly.
Turmae bowed in acknowledgement, then turned to Havlock. “You won’t abandon us, that much I know. What do you need from me?”
“I need your knowledge. None of us has ever attempted to defend a castle.”
Turmae rubbed a hand across his beard. “In truth, neither have I. The fortress of Tricor was built generations ago, before we united the five kingdoms. It occupied the top of the promontory overlooking the river with an extension that ran down to the river. More recent generations settled outside the wall, forcing us to build another very long wall. With the peace that came after unification, our population increased dramatically, resulting in settlements outside even that wall. When the gleasons came, we brought everyone back inside, but we’re so overcrowded that normal siege tactics will not work.”
M’Kind stepped forward. “What are those tactics?”
Turmae looked at the schematic and lifted both hands to it as he had seen Lebac do. He experimented with manipulating the display for a bit, then settled on a view that showed only the city. Atiana looked at him with the lifted eyebrows of amazement.
“Castle defense depends on several critical things: strong walls, lines of fire, and methods of retreat and holding. The outer wall, we call it a curtain wall, is made of stone. It is formidable and it will not burn, but it is not as strong or as high as our next level of defense which is a very high wall made of cut stones that fit tightly together. This second wall was the original outer wall and is now called the inner wall. It surrounds the armory, the stables and granaries, the cathedral, government offices, the gardens, and the keep where the queen lives and conducts her daily audiences. The keep itself—you’ve been referring to it as a castle—is a third defensive level and is virtually impregnable, but if invaders ever make it that far, the city is lost and we would likely surrender.”
He turned to them to see if there were any questions. There were not, so he turned back to the display and traced each wall with a finger. “Notice the walls are thicker at the bottom. It not only strengthens them, it allows archers to fire without leaning out and exposing themselv
es too much. Notice also that the inner wall is not only higher than the outer, curtain wall, it is higher up the hill. The wall of the keep is higher yet. Under ideal circumstances, archers at each higher level would have lines of fire to the next level below them. Unfortunately, with peace came a relaxation of the rules. Homes and businesses and streets have claimed every available parcel between the walls, and those lines of fire are obstructed. Still, there are no parts of the walls that attackers can climb with impunity.
“Attackers have to cross the clear area outside the curtain wall, a dangerous and demoralizing crossing. Many die. The survivors reach the curtain wall and have to get over it, a process during which more die. If they breach the curtain wall, they’ve been seriously weakened.”
He turned back to them, saying, “The curtain wall was never designed to stop a determined army. It is far too long to defend with the few hundred soldiers we have. It’s purpose is only to slow down and reduce the enemy force, demoralizing them in the process. If an enemy makes it over the curtain wall, we retreat one level to the inner wall. We are not willing to forfeit this inner wall. We defend it at all costs because we’ve moved the women and children inside its walls, and it holds our siege supplies.”
“How do you defend this inner wall?” M’Kind asked.
Turmae stared at him while he considered his answer. In the end, he said, “Keep in mind that I have never had to do it, though I have practiced it. The wall itself is formidable. We would use arrows, hot water, hot burning oil, rocks, and anything else we can drop on them. As they near the top, spears, swords, axes, and knives.”
He turned back to the display and started again at the beginning. “Invading armies would bring ladders. I don’t believe the gleasons have ladders, but I’ve personally fought them inside the curtain wall, so I know they can climb the wall without them. We still have a good cleared area outside that wall, and you’ve shown me you can make the gleasons visible with your weapons. If you can make them visible to us, we can do a lot of damage. Still, with the numbers you’re suggesting, they will definitely get over the curtain wall. When they do, our archers will not have clear fields of fire because we’ve allowed construction between the two walls.”
He paused, then added, “There’s another problem,” he said, looking at Atiana. “We have far too many people and animals to bring into the inner fortress. It simply won’t hold them all.”
M’Kind’s upper hands were working overtime on his whiskers as he listened to every word. Now they moved to his antennae, removing old smells to allow room for new ones. That did not stop him from talking.
“What if I evacuate them?” he asked thoughtfully.
Surprised looks went around the room. Atiana was the first to speak. “My people? Is that possible?”
“How many?” M’Kind asked.
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling in thought, then said, “Three thousand if we do not include Turmae’s fighters.”
M’Kind’s hands stopped for a moment, then resumed their preening. “I can house some of them temporarily. It might be standing room only. What will happen when they see us nonhumans?”
Atiana brought a hand to her mouth and turned away, then she turned back. “Better frightened than dead at the hands of gleasons.”
Havlock spoke up. “I don’t think they’ll go willingly into the ship.”
M’Kind’s preening stopped again while he considered. “I’ll have to check dimensions, but I believe I can fit one of those spires above the castle into a shuttle attachment point on the bottom of the ship. I’ll have to trim the top of the spire, maybe remove the whole top. If I did it at night, people might not know they’re stepping into a sky ship.”
Havlock looked to Atiana, but she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Just do whatever it takes. You have my permission to damage the spire.”
M’Kind nodded and spoke to Turmae. “How many men do you have?”
“Roughly one hundred knights, an equal number of archers, and two hundred foot-men. I’ve drafted another thousand civilians to help patrol the walls, but they’re only minimally trained.”
“Fourteen hundred to protect the whole city?” Havlock asked in surprise.
Turmae frowned. “Remember, we’ve been at peace. Most of my men were away when the gleasons came. They didn’t all make it back to Tricor, and many have died since then.”
Havlock scratched his chin in thought. “My men will add a thousand to that number.”
M’Kind and Havlock stared at each other. M’Kind spoke first. “It won’t be enough, sir, not against a thousand or more gleasons. You were hard pressed on the convoy with odds of five to one.”
“Agreed, but the walls will improve the odds.”
Galborae spoke up, his eyes alternating between M’Kind and Havlock. “You’ve told me many times how proud you are that every single member of your crew is a marine first and a crewman second.”
When the meaning of his words sank in, everyone stared at him. Havlock was the first to break the ensuing silence, his focus on M’Kind. “We’d both be putting our careers on the line, not to speak of their lives. It’s against all the rules.”
M’Kind’s preening stopped again, but not for long. He resumed, saying, “Agreed, sir. Tell me again why we’re here?”
A short silence ensued. M’Kind’s upper hands went back to feverishly working on his whiskers, then they suddenly stopped moving again. “We either go all out or not at all,” he said. “I have 2,500 crew members. As fighting men, they’re rusty, but as Sir Galborae reminded us, they’re marines. If I really reach deep, I can give you . . . maybe 2,000 on a temporary basis.”
Havlock’s eyes moved to Lebac who stared thoughtfully back at him, then gave him a brief nod. “I followed your lead on Aldebaran and we prevailed against overwhelming odds. Let’s do it again.”
Havlock’s eyes went to Galborae but did not linger there. He’d fought beside Galborae for a full month on the caravan and knew how he would respond. When his gaze fell on Atiana, she stood up taller, then stepped up to him.
She raised a hand to his cheek in a very personal gesture, saying, “I’ll beg if I have to.” She then lowered her arm and stepped back.
The battle against gleasons would be terrible, that he knew with certainty. He and his men had trained to use technology as their primary weapons, but the coming battle would be a primitive, barbaric battle of brute force even if it was fought with modern weapons. Were his men up to it? Was he?
The room was silent save for the muted voices of support staff in the background. He turned back to the image of Tricor and its battlements, imagining the horror of holding a wall against a horde of gleasons, creatures who would swarm up the walls like spiders. Then he looked back to Galborae, a man who had stood against a gleason and essentially died, a man who despite that had returned to save his people. He had risked everything that he was, and he had done so with full knowledge.
Their eyes met, and he knew Galborae shared his thoughts. The big picture suddenly came back into focus and made his decision easier. The Empire had given him the job of figuring out how to fight gleasons, and that’s what he would do. Besides, he’d come to like and admire these people.
He turned to Lebac. “You and M’Kind brief Turmae on what we can do to support his battle plan. I’ll go down with Queen Atiana and Galborae and get things started in the city. How much time do we have?”
“If the gleasons keep up their current pace of small scale attacks, they’ll build up a serious attack force in two or three days.”
“Get creative.”
“Creative, sure. A marine’s strong point.”
* * * * *
Suddenly lots of things needed to get done, and there was a deadline. Weapons, translator devices, and communicators had to be handed out. Most of the defenders needed training, and all the while continuous, small scale attacks by gleasons required the defenders’ attention. Havlock dispatched Galborae back to King Tenni
sol in Shanlock with a request for fighting men. He believed it was a long shot, but he could not leave a single stone unturned.
In the end, Tennisol brought 300 men, including himself. As he put it, “The only way they’d get on the sky ships was if I went first.”
Atiana called her advisors together and briefed them. They spread out through the city, calling on every non-fighting person to gather inside the inner wall. By late that afternoon she had a steady stream of people and animals coming into the castle’s great room and courtyard. After the sun went down, M’Kind brought his transporter down to the top of the spire and carefully lased off the top, then inserted the remaining cylindrical stonework into a shuttle docking bay on the belly of his ship. Crewmen worked feverishly to seal gaps so that no one would fall, and by the time they were done, they believed it would be a seamless transition into the ship. Atiana’s people would know they were in the ship—they would step from stone onto a surface they had never seen before, and the interior of the ship would be new as well—so he provided a limited number of human guides for direction. Once inside, however, there would be no way to avoid exposing the people to nonhumans—crew members would have to get them settled and provide food, water, training in the use of bathrooms, and a host of other issues. Atiana would be there to help them, at least at the beginning. People would be challenged, and they would be frighted by the aliens, but they would survive.
Atiana led the climb up through the castle to the transporter, then introduced her advisors to the alien crew members. After they got over the shock, she put them to work guiding new entrants.
Turmae, the most knowledgeable of the unknowledgeable, was pulled in many different directions. He reviewed a formal plan of battle with Lebac and M’Kind, then rode down in a shuttle and walked the walls with Havlock. His men came first, and he took the time to encourage and explain things to these frightened but committed soldiers. He warned them that they would soon be joined by nonhuman sky knights, but he cushioned the shock by making certain Havlock’s human marines had been disbursed among his own before deploying the aliens.
Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights Page 19