Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights

by Lawrence White

  A spear soon dropped to the ground. “I want you to throw it at the cloth as hard as you can,” Graylee instructed.

  “I’ll ruin it.”

  “If you can ruin it, think what a demon will do to it. We’ll have wasted our time.”

  Thaeron shrugged and called to his men to stand back. He threw the spear as hard as he could, and it bounced off the fabric. He stared for a time, then picked up the spear and called for his men to watch as it bounced off again.

  Before they stepped onto the platform to be pulled up, she said in words only he could hear, “Our soldiers’ uniforms are made from this cloth. It will stop a knife or a spear, and it will stop a demon’s claw. I’m willing to provide such clothing to any man of yours who’s willing to work the mine.”

  “I’ll put it to them. Where are you staying tonight?”

  “I don’t know! I hadn’t thought that far. With the soldiers probably.”

  He grunted. “Is that appropriate?”

  “Of course it is. I’m a soldier, remember?”

  “Will you share dinner with me and my family?”

  She smiled without even thinking. “I will! Thank you!” Then she remembered the bed bugs and disease and starvation and wondered if she’d made a mistake. “Do you have enough food?”

  “I do. You sky knights brought enough supplies to last us through the winter. We’re no longer starving.”

  “Then yes, I accept. We should organize your men for the work tomorrow. We can fly out at first light.”

  Thaeron looked at her like she was crazy. “Fly? Do I look like a bird? No! Absolutely not.”

  “How else will we get there?”

  “Carts, like always.”

  It was her turn to look at him like he was crazy. “The demons will surely attack. We can fly over them in complete safety.”

  He held his head high. “I will not go into a sky ship. Builders don’t fly, we build. Besides, how else will we get the mortar back? I’m counting on you sky knights to protect us.”

  When they reached the top of the wall, she went in search of the senior marine, Lieutenant Bardek. “Sir, Private Rodjiks reporting.”

  He saluted her back, then said with a smile, “I don’t think so, Ms. Rodjiks. Hawke was very clear on the subject of you. We’re to refer to you as Teacher Graylee, though I’m wondering if Builder Graylee might be more apt. Nice job here. What can I do for you?”

  “They’re out of mortar. We need to go to the mine for more.”

  His smile changed to a frown as he considered. He eventually said, “Okay, we can do that. I’m not sure I can get these people to go aboard a shuttle though.”

  “I just had that discussion. They won’t. They want to drive their carts.”

  When he shook his head, she added, “I’m not sure we want that mortar inside a shuttle. It might make a mess.”

  He looked sharply at her. “So do dead bodies. How far away is the mine?”

  “About two hours by cart.”

  “How many carts?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s go find out.”

  Bardek went to Thaeron who was surrounded by his men. A pleasant offer to ride on a shuttle quickly deteriorated into a loud argument. In the end, Thaeron simply crossed his arms across his chest and said, “No.”

  Bardek walked away shaking his head and grumbling to himself. Graylee caught up to him, then stepped around him, forcing him to stop.

  “Can’t you insist?” she asked.

  Bardek shook his head. “One of our prime directives is that we never force Empire technology on them if we can avoid it. I’ll have to pass this decision upstairs. Carts are a bad idea.”

  Later, she accompanied Thaeron to his home. As they walked, her eyes roved everywhere looking at things through the eyes of an engineer. To her surprise, though many ideas came to mind, she discovered that these people were doing an excellent job with the technology and tools at their disposal. Homes looked sturdy, though there were no glass windows. Every street had gutters, and she quickly figured out from the smell what they used the gutters for. Management of human waste was one area in which she could see herself making an impact.

  Thaeron had installed a beautifully worked stone floor. Her appreciation of the craftsmanship brought a smile to his face, though he was quick to point out that the king had given him permission to take the stone from the quarry. He introduced his wife, Ottsla, a stout woman who turned out to be a quiet hostess who was ill at ease with the foreigner in her home. She accepted a translator device and Graylee offered to help prepare the meal, but Ottsla smiled nervously and declined. Their daughter spent the night with a neighbor, and Graylee slept in her bed.

  * * * * *

  Graylee questioned the term “cart” the next morning. Massive wooden wagons pulled by teams of six drodans each formed into a line, the men all dressed in marine uniforms. The men had been manning the battlements during the past few weeks and had received rudimentary training with blasters, but not from platforms that moved. Lieutenant Bardek had low expectations of their usefulness.

  Two shuttles landed outside the gates, and squads of marines led their gorlacs down the ramps. As soon as the last gorlac exited, both shuttles took to the air again. While Lieutenant Bardek got everyone organized, a third shuttle landed, dropped two marines on gorlacs, then departed.

  Hawke and Lieutenant Crowles rode through the morass of soldiers and up to Bardek, held a brief meeting, then they rode through the gates into the town. There, they found Graylee and Thaeron sitting beside the driver of the first cart. Several husky men huddled in the back of the cart, and when Crowles climbed in to join them, they listened carefully to his instructions. All of them held shields, though on the way to the mine with empty wagons, the walls of the wagons would provide adequate cover.

  Hawke nodded to Graylee and continued along the line of carts inspecting each one. When he returned to the first wagon, Bardek was ready to move out.

  “What are you doing here?” Graylee asked as he stopped beside her. She couldn’t help but notice the dust encrusting his clothes and skin. “You’re filthy. Where have you been?”

  “Have you forgotten what I told you about conditions here?” he asked.

  “No. Are you checking up on me?”

  “Yes, but not just you. I want to know if this is a dumb idea. We haven’t sent any caravans out without traders. They’re natural fighters and can take care of themselves to some extent, but your builders are not fighters.”

  “Actually, most of them are miners, and you’re right—they’re not. Lieutenant Bardek thinks two squads of marines will suffice.”

  Hawke nodded. “They can only do their jobs if the wagon drivers keep their drodans under control.”

  She nodded back. “He briefed us. Well, he threatened as much as he briefed.”

  “There will be shooting. The drodans won’t like it, especially if the drivers convey their fear through the meld.”

  “He told us that, too, but these people are determined to fix the hole in their wall. I think they’ll measure up.”

  Hawke’s gaze went to Thaeron. “Are you certain you want to do this thing?”

  “Want?” Thaeron answered. “No, but it must be done if we’re to fix the wall. We’re ready to start.”

  Hawke nodded grimly and returned to Bardek outside the front gate. Wagons started moving, and marines on gorlacs fell in beside them. Hawke fell in beside Graylee’s cart.

  “Shouldn’t you be up there with them?” she asked, pointing to the scouts out front.

  “No. They know what they’re doing. Besides, I’m not in command here, I’m just observing. There’s only one caravan commander, and yours is Bardek. As long as I’m here, I’ll follow whatever instructions he gives me.”

  “How’s your caravan doing?”

  “We’re on schedule to be here in four days. We haven’t lost anyone this trip.”

  “I count 48 marines here, plus you and me. Isn’t that a bit of over
kill?”

  “Maybe, but you’re here.”

  “What? You promised.”

  “Look, this operation is new to us and is getting a lot of attention. General Stymes is monitoring things from another shuttle that’s out of sight, but he’s here too. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it on your visor.”

  She looked sheepishly at him. “I haven’t turned it on.”

  “So I noticed. I suggest you get in back with Lieutenant Crowles and get to work. Pay attention to everything he says and does. He’s an expert.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, embarrassed.

  Hawke rode back along the line of carts and spoke to each driver. Graylee stepped over the seat into the back of her cart and crawled over to Crowles.

  “What do you want me to do, sir?”

  “Let’s start with your visor settings . . .”

  * * * * *

  Uncharacteristically, gleasons did not attack immediately. Hawke, Bardek, and Crowles, all experienced road warriors, knew what that meant: the gleasons were working up a plan.

  The road followed a descending ridge line and was wide enough to provide room for riders on each side of the carts. Before long, the ridge line flattened out, becoming on the left a gentle slope that fell away toward a valley sprinkled with forests and farms. On the right side, the road dropped off steeply to a wide river which meandered through a series of sandy turns.

  Graylee looked out across the river valley to a similar bluff on the far side which abutted high mountains. Under different conditions it would have been a breathtaking panorama. She noticed Thaeron shifting uncomfortably in his seat beside the driver. She stood up and leaned over the back of his seat. “Having second thoughts?” she asked.

  “No, I just don’t like this area.”

  “Why not?”

  “We make our mortar from limestone. This whole area is limestone. It’s full of caves. Ghosts of the dead live here.”

  Graylee scuttled back to Crowles and gave him the news. His jaw firmed as he got on the radio and issued an alert. Moments later, three shuttles descended, aiming stunners along the steep embankment in front of the caravan. The moment they did, gleasons erupted from caves in front of and beside the caravan, their images appearing on visors as quickly as feeds from the shuttles supplied the data.

  Graylee stared in horror as gleasons swarmed up the embankment, some of them shrieking. Lieutenant Bardek made a snap decision and ordered the caravan to stop—he did not want the wagons to continue further into the trap. Crowles grabbed Graylee by the arm and dragged her to the front of the cart. He ordered Thaeron into the back and leaned over the driver’s seat to steady his own aim. Graylee followed his example.

  “Don’t worry about stunning,” he ordered her between shots. “There are already plenty of targets here. Aim every shot just like we talked about.”

  He leaped into the driver’s seat to keep a steadying hand on the driver. His long blaster kept up a continuous firing, stopping only long enough to periodically calm the driver. If the driver failed to keep his drodans under control, the cart would plow ahead into the worst of the fighting, or worse, perhaps leave the road. A solitary cart here would be a death trap.

  Her visor showed multiple targets, all of them zig-zagging. Most of them worked their way up the side of the embankment, but plenty of them were leaping toward the front of the caravan from up ahead. The scouting party ahead of the caravan, badly outnumbered, struggled to return to the caravan. Marines from beside the caravan reinforced them.

  Graylee sighted and fired, sighted and fired without stopping. She ignored fighting to the sides of the cart, her only attention forward. Gleasons fell, but they almost always got back up. The scouts raced back toward the first wagon at full speed, firing continuously. Farther afield, stunner beams and blasters lanced down from the shuttles.

  A wounded gleason leaped up onto the back of a lead drodan and jumped toward the cart. The six drodans tried to rear up, but their harnesses prevented significant movement and their driver somehow managed to keep them under control. Four simultaneous blasters disintegrated the creature, the remains of its corpse splattering everyone in the wagon. Graylee gasped in horror as she spit gleason from her mouth, but at a command from Lieutenant Crowles, she wiped the grime from her visor and kept shooting.

  The attack ended in minutes. Crowles lifted the shaking driver back into his seat, congratulating him on his iron calmness, then he jumped into the back of the wagon. A quick look showed no casualties, so he jumped to the ground and started working his way back along the caravan. Shuttles landed to discharge medics, and floaters carrying wounded made their way into a single shuttle. Before very long, it lifted and headed for the transporter.

  Graylee wanted nothing more than to sit down with her back against the wall of the cart, but she knew there might be more gleasons. She maintained a constant watch ahead and to the sides of her cart.

  Thaeron, crouched down behind a side wall and keeping an eye out as well, said, “You fought bravely. You are truly a soldier.”

  “And a builder and a scholar. I’ve decided I don’t like the soldier part.”

  “Nor do I.”

  Crowles returned to the cart a little while later and found her that way. “Good job,” he told her. “I forgot to tell you to keep an eye out.” He reached out and brushed some gore from her helmet, saying, “That’s the way we do it. We don’t give in, we just get back to work.”

  She nodded numbly, still in shock at the ferociousness of the attack. “What should I do now?”

  “Keep your eyes outside. We’re getting underway shortly.”

  “Forward or back?” she asked.

  Crowles spoke to Thaeron. “These are your people. Do you want to call if off?”

  Thaeron, frightened out of his wits, shook his head. “I can’t. The town needs a wall.”

  “We can take you in a sky ship.”

  Thaeron gave the question serious consideration. In the end he shook his head again. “I can’t. Nor will my men.”

  Crowles spoke to Lieutenant Bardek on his comm unit, advising him that the caravan would continue to the mine. Thaeron spoke to his driver, then climbed down from the cart and made his way along the line of carts, speaking with each driver and the workmen, offering them encouragement. The carts eventually began moving again, and as expected, sporadic gleason attacks kept everyone on edge.

  Bardek rode up beside the first wagon and reigned in his gorlac. “Hawke is on the way to the transporter. I’m sorry, but it looks real bad.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  With those words, Graylee’s world collapsed. She suddenly felt alone and isolated, without purpose on a violent world. What was she going to do now, she wondered? She had counted on Hawke’s guidance, had in fact come here more because of him than the job. During the horrible trials of marine training during the past year, her sole focus had been to impress him, and now he was out of the picture for the foreseeable future and maybe forever. She nodded dumbly as Bardek urged his mount ahead toward the forward outriders.

  Crowles sat her down in the back of the wagon, their sentry duties ignored for the moment. “He’s my friend, too,” Crowles said. “In fact, he’s why I’m here. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”

  She stared at him in shock. “No way!”

  “It’s true. He’s spoken of little but you since his return from Aldebaran, a complete change for him, and after meeting you I can see why. He planned all this the moment he heard, though he didn’t plan on this side trip to the mine. He was as angry as I’ve ever heard him when he found out.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I wasn’t sure how he felt about me, but I had hoped. He’s why I came. Can I go to him?”

  Crowles considered, then shook his head. “No. We have a job to do here, and you know the doctors won’t let anyone near him.” He paused, then added, “This won’t help, but I have to be honest with you—most of the marines we send to the transporter never come ba
ck. Sometimes it’s because of their wounds, but sometimes it’s because being that up close and personal with a gleason does something to you. Hawke has seen a lot here, but I can’t predict how he’ll deal with this, if he survives at all.”

  “I’m not sure how I will. I’m still shaking.”

  “We all are. That part never changes.”

  “How do you keep coming back to this day after day?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I do, what I signed up for.” His eyes narrowed as he looked into the distance. “As bad as it is, imagine it from the perspective of the locals. Until we came, they fought with swords, bows and arrows, and knives. Can you imagine? I have incredible respect for them. I’m not ready to go back to gzeikolts and the shallow life I lived on Aldebaran.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You’re staying?”

  He cocked his head to the side and looked at her. “If they’ll let me. I’m in training to be a Teacher, and I hope I pass muster.” He got up to resume his sentry duties. “I suggest you keep your eyes open and give yourself time to get to know these people. With Hawke out of the picture, you’ll eventually have to decide if you want to stay or go home. He told me he promised you a ride back if that’s your choice.”

  She stood up and lowered her visor into position. “At the moment I just want a hot bath.”

  He grinned. “That’s the spirit! So do I.”

  They made it to the mine, loaded the wagons with barrels of lime and sand, and returned home fighting gleasons all the way, though they had learned their lesson about traveling through the cave area. Shuttles stunned and blasted that area thoroughly before the carts reached it.

  It seemed like the whole town came to the front gates to welcome them back. Builders rarely enjoyed fame, and Thaeron reveled in the attention. He invited her to his home again and she accepted.

  This time as they walked through the streets she asked him how the town dealt with human waste. He seemed uncomfortable discussing it with her, but fighting side by side with a person tended to create bonds that transcended social boundaries. She did not relent, doing her best to explain how the open trenches along streets invited disease and illness.