After watching the fighting below, even Envaeg agreed. For appearances sake, Havlock did not ask for a response from either Hawke or Atiana. The shuttle settled to the ground beside the middle of the caravan, and a marine led each of the newcomers to his assigned wagon. Traders tied gorlacs to the trailing herd of spares.
Half an hour passed before the next onslaught. Havlock, Atiana, and Envaeg crowded into a wagon with the projectionist, and Havlock did his best to explain the process, though he knew it would only become clear when the fighting started. Everyone wore helmets and had multiple targets showing. Not all the targets were necessarily gleasons, some of them could be local animals, so targeting was not 100% effective, but it was the best they could do.
The projectionist normally sat inside the wagon with one guard/spotter in case a gleason got through. The gunnery team, all of them using long-barreled stunners and blasters, sat atop adjacent wagons in plain view of the gleasons. The caravan commander assigned initial targets, ensuring that heavy weapons covered the sides, front, and rear of the caravan, then everyone waited tensely.
Sergeant Nuwe brought an imaginary mounted marine out from between wagons and led him well out to the side of the caravan, definitely an unsafe distance for a real person. Five other operators did the same with their projected riders. King Envaeg did not, at first, believe Havlock’s explanation that the figure was not real. Even Atiana had trouble with the concept. When gleasons struck, all that the team in the wagon saw initially was moving blobs of light on their helmet visors, some of which had been tagged by the shuttle above as definitely gleasons. Sharpshooters fired into the blobs and the targets quickly turned into the real thing. More shots struck the gleasons, continuing to wound them but not stopping them. Even the projected rider appeared to be shooting at them as he worked his way back toward the caravan.
Two wounded gleasons reached the rider simultaneously and leapt for him. Sharpshooters managed to knock each gleason to the ground moments before it would have touched the nonexistent target. The gleasons sprang back up, only to be hit again. The holographic target continued firing at approaching gleasons as it continued drifting back toward the caravan, now displaying great, gaping wounds to the legs, torso, and to the gorlac. As the outriders neared the caravan, gleasons spread out, going to targets of opportunity instead of just the outriders, and that’s when the mayhem began. Some order prevailed, but in some respects it became a free-for-all.
The pilot in the shuttle overhead called the caravan commander. “Sir, there’s a second wave coming at high speed. You’re not going to get a breather.”
The caravan commander called Havlock while the first wave of fighting continued. “Sir, I’d like to break out the heavy weapons and see if I can thin them out. I’ll start with those farthest out.”
Havlock considered. The shuttle could work on those long-range targets with better efficiency, and the close-in gleasons might not even know distant gleasons were dying if the dying was quick. On the other hand, using heavy weapons from the caravan might become a solution to releasing shuttles for other duties. Havlock was quickly running short of shuttles to guard the increasing number of caravans.
“Approved, Lieutenant, but use them sparingly. I don’t want to scare off the gleasons. You know what I mean. We’ve talked about it.”
“Aye, sir,” came back the terse reply.
Four heavy blasters telescoped up from wagons, two of them bursting through flaps in the fabric coverings of their wagons and two of them rising up through doors that folded back from wagons with wooden tops. Weapons operators stayed hidden within the wagons, their targeting data now a complex combination of targets sent by the ship and the elevated view as seen by their guns. The guns remained silent.
The current attack ended abruptly with the last gleasons dead or dying. The caravan continued its never-ending progress.
Havlock studied Atiana and King Envaeg. “Got the picture?” he asked.
“More or less,” Atiana said.
“I think, um, maybe less,” Envaeg admitted.
“Thank you for your honesty. None of this is simple. In fact, it’s very complicated and it’s going to get more complicated. The second wave is not far off.”
Envaeg gulped. “Can you deal with it?”
“We will, and you’ll be an integral part of it by the time we reach Zobar. You and your knights will lead the caravan on the final stretch.”
* * * * *
King Envaeg did indeed lead the caravan into Zobar. During the intervening days he had killed many gleasons and even operated a heavy weapon on two occasions. Gleason activity had increased steadily until nearing Zobar, then it stopped abruptly. The gleasons seemed to have learned about the boundaries patrolled by the shuttles within which they could not experience ecstasy.
Havlock, Atiana, and Hawke were not with Envaeg when he passed through his main gate. They had left two days earlier to meet King Goragii of Gaedon. They took him through the same process, let him lead the caravan through the main gates of the city, and they remained for two days of discussion. They then gathered up all the kings they had visited and brought them to a meeting in Tricor. Discomfort emanated from these leaders, some of whom were meeting each other for the first time, but fighting gleasons provided common ground for discussion, and it tended to minimize other problems.
One item of particular note came out of the meeting. Galborae leaned back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest and addressed Havlock. “One of your priorities is for the inhabitants of Tranxte to take this war to the gleasons by themselves using your weapons and technology, is it not?”
“It is.”
“I’m still healing, but I haven’t been idle. I spend a lot of time aboard shuttles watching everyone, and the heavy weapons intrigue me. They not only shoot farther, they see farther when they’re deployed to their full height. With that increased sensor range, I think your plan to reduce shuttle coverage could work. And we’ve discussed how you’ll never have enough marines to spread out over our whole world. With those weapons, caravans might get through without any marines at all.”
Havlock stared at this illiterate knight, a man who had gone through so much over the past year and remained sane. He nodded solemnly to Galborae. “Your insight continues to guide all of us,” he said. “We could probably start the process by sharing the shuttles with more than one convoy, but we’re always going to have to keep an eye out for ambushes. We might be able to do that from orbit, I’m not sure. As for going without any marines at all, we’ll have to establish a formal training program for your knights and traders before that’s possible.” He stared at Galborae. “It might work. Would you like to lead the training?”
“No, Sky Lord. Your marines need to be the trainers. I serve our people best by training you.”
Havlock looked around the room of kings and nodded. “Too true, my friend.
* * * * *
Later that evening, Atiana pulled him away from an impromptu celebration. These kings and military leaders had, indeed, fought and beat the gleasons to a standstill in this part of the world. Desperation still occupied most of the planet, but a moment could be taken to acknowledge the first successful steps.
“You’re exhausted,” she said, “and preoccupied. Why? You’ve made great progress.”
He looked away, stepped over to a chair and sat, then changed his mind and stood up again. “I’m pleased with our progress. I have the tools to continue until General Stymes gets here, and when he does, I’ll have a plan of action he can get started on immediately. You and I need to talk about that by the way. We need to figure out which kingdoms get to know about us next.”
“I’ve already been in discussion with your experts on the transporter.”
He blinked. “You have?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I get the feeling your heart isn’t in this.”
“If you think that, you’re wrong. I’m completely engaged here, and I intend t
o stay that way.”
A faint smile lit her face. “Thank you. I needed to hear that. I worry every day that you’ll disappear forever, off on some new assignment.”
“No, my place is here for as long as I’m allowed to stay.”
She stepped up to him and placed her hands on his chest, moving in close. “The task before you will not end in your lifetime. Stay forever, Gar.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “I’m a soldier, My Lady. As such, I’m not in complete control of my life. Just know this: I will stay as long as I can.”
Her arms went around him and he returned the embrace, gathering her head to his chest with one hand while the other encircled her back. Neither of them felt the need for words. She eventually leaned back, her eyes sparkling as they stared into his.
He smiled back at her, sharing in the warmth and commitment she radiated. “My Lady, is this appropriate for a queen?”
“Probably not,” she said, smiling back a little sadly. “Don’t talk. Just let me enjoy for a while.”
His arms gathered her in again. The silence lasted a long time. She was the first to break it. “I don’t want to spoil this, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“My Lady?”
“What preoccupies you so?”
“Gleasons.” He took a step back from her. “Thank you for the respite. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of much besides gleasons.”
“I challenge you to tell me I haven’t occupied a small part of your thoughts every day, sir.”
The grin found its way back to his face, making him look more like a boy than a man. “More than they should, Atiana. You’re never far from me even when you are.”
She reached a hand up to his face. “Then tell me.”
His mood darkened and he turned away. He took a few steps, then turned back to her. “Actually, it’s not you or the gleasons, and it’s not the progress we’re making. In time we’ll defeat the gleasons even if we have to bring 10,000 squads. The issue is that what we’re doing is wrong.”
Her brow furrowed. “Wrong? How can killing gleasons be wrong?”
“It’s complicated, but I’d sure like to bounce this crazy idea off of someone.”
She smiled and pulled him to a couch. “Sit, Sky Lord.” When he sat, she sat next to him and pulled his arm over her shoulders. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“You’re just looking for an excuse to be alone.”
Her eyes twinkled. “That I am, but this is important to you. Share it with me.”
He closed his eyes and relished the feelings emanating from her. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, but she would have none of that. She turned and lifted her lips to his.
When they came up for air, she said softly, “We don’t have to talk at all, you know.”
He ran a hand through golden ringlets, then looked into her eyes. “Talking would be best right about now, don’t you think?”
* * * * *
Trader Markesan wanted to return immediately to Tricor, his load of salt and other items badly needed in the province. Galborae shuttled over to him from the meeting of kings and pulled him into the first room he came to for a private discussion.
“I don’t know you well, Trader, but the Sky Lord holds you in high esteem.”
Markesan’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know!”
“Well, he’s not always forthcoming with praise, but it’s true. You’re a trader, and I’m here to deal. Tell me . . . what’s more important to you, returning to Tricor with your goods or continuing to fight gleasons?”
“Uh, they go hand in hand.”
“Not so. Your convoy was a huge success. We see very few gleasons between Tricor and here now. Your return to Tricor would not be without risk, but it would be nothing like what you just went through.”
“What’s your point?”
“I want you to keep going. I want you to press on to a neighboring kingdom, a kingdom outside our province. You and your men are fully trained now.”
Markesan’s expression turned dark. “Caravans are about trade, not fighting. I need my profits to survive. What about the other caravans?”
“I’m asking all of them to do just as I’m asking you, to continue beyond.”
Markesan looked at him like he’d gone nuts. “Tricor badly needs the load of salt I bought here. They’ll pay dearly. You want me to give up all that profit?”
“You haven’t heard my offer. What if I give you all the profit you would have made in Tricor and let you take an equally profitable load of salt to the next kingdom farther out?”
“Tricor needs the salt.”
“I’ll get it to them. What do you say?”
Markesan remained silent for a while, then he nodded thoughtfully, saying, “I’ll put it to my men and get back to you.”
“Put it to them this way: it’s not only the money. They just completed a journey which will become a part of our history. In the process, they successfully passed the Sky Lord’s test. He now wants to test you further. He wants you and your men to take on more of the fight by providing fewer marines and only limited shuttle cover. For every marine he takes away, he’ll spot you two trained knights.”
“We only had six knights on the road, and them only for the last week. That’s not a bad bargain.”
“I know, and I’ll be with you as much as I can. You haven’t seen me on the road, I’ve been healing, but I know what I’m doing. I’ll go with you, and the knights I bring will answer to me. Until I judge them fully trained, you’ll have a full complement of marines.”
“I know where you’re going with this, and I’m not sure I like it. The Sky Lord wants us to fight the gleasons on our own.”
“Never completely on your own, Trader, but it’s a matter of resources. There are more kingdoms than you can imagine. The Sky Lord wants to reach all of them. He can’t do it if his men stay here.”
“You’re going to teach your knights how to work the machines that send out ghost riders?”
Galborae squirmed. “Maybe. We’re fighters, not magicians. We might need to bring a few scholars into the picture, or maybe some entertainers.”
Markesan rolled his eyes. “Surely you jest.”
“I wish. They’re a last resort, but I’ll be surprised if my knights can do it.” He looked hard into Markesan’s eyes. “I’m asking you to help save our homes. If we fail, we fail our families and our descendants. On the other hand, if we make this work, we’ll free the Sky Lord and his men to spread our successes elsewhere.”
“How will you get the salt to Tricor?”
“It’s the Sky Lord’s problem. Maybe by shuttle, though he might have to use the transporter.”
Chapter Eighteen
Resolve fast shipped into orbit three months later, surprising everyone. Sir Stven hailed Havlock's transporter and requested a meeting with Galborae. Captain M’Kind took the call on the transporter and was shocked that the request did not include Havlock, but the request was from a Knight so he passed the word to Galborae who was down on the surface.
Galborae, after just a little thought, was not particularly surprised. After all, he was the only one on Tranxte who the great Knights on this particular ship knew. He notified Havlock before boarding a shuttle.
Havlock's response surprised him. “Okay, keep them occupied. I need at least a day, and two days would be better. My three caravans are heavily engaged.”
“You’re going to keep a Great One waiting?”
“I know, I know, but fighting comes first. Two caravans reach their objectives tomorrow. I’ll spend that time turning things over to a new commander. Take Atiana with you. She’ll keep them entertained, meaning she’ll keep their thoughts off of me.”
* * * * *
When Galborae's shuttle docked with Resolve, he and Limam stepped through the docking mechanism first. Borg was the first to greet them, the ferocious leer indicating his approval of the knight and meld he had helped re
scue so many months earlier.
"Welcome back, both of you,” he said.
A healthier and much more confident Galborae than they had known answered, "We had no idea you were coming. I thought you were done here."
Terry Washburn, the first person aboard Resolve whom Galborae had met, was right behind Borg. He stepped around the Great Cat and extended a hand to Galborae. "You're looking fit, my friend," he said.
Galborae reached out and clapped him on the back, then stepped back and rubbed a hand across still healing ribs. "I was better before my conversation with a gleason."
“Again?” Washburn exclaimed. Then a thoughtful expression filled his face. ”Surely you don't mean that literally.”
Galborae’s lips came together in a grim smile. "We have a lot to talk about, but first, will you welcome my queen, Queen Atiana?”
Washburn's eyebrows rose. Borg's narrowed. "We only invited you," he growled.
“She will justify her presence."
Atiana was part way through the lock when she saw the Great Cat. Ancient instinct drew her eyes first to its face. Deadly cold and impersonal amber eyes glared at her from above a fierce muzzle. Longer and narrower than a meld’s, with red and black and gold skin gathered in ridges, the ridges of the muzzle were, at the moment, lifted to expose vicious-looking teeth. Her hand reached toward her blaster before she even had time to think.
Fortunately, since Borg and Washburn were far quicker on the draw, her hand had barely moved when she came to her senses. She stared into the barrels of their blasters, then she noticed that the paw of the vicious cat holding one of those blasters was not a paw at all. It was a hand.
"My apologies, Sky Knight. I should have known better,” she said to the enormous cat.
Borg's lips lifted further, though his blaster did not waver. "You're not the first to react so to my species. Sky Knight? That's a new one."
Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights Page 26