“Bullet Nine, this is Thunder Six. Authenticate Charlie Sierra Six.”
Trevayne looked at Dossett who transmitted it directly to his helmet display. “Tango Five Charlie, Thunder Six.”
“Bullet Nine, Thunder Six. I’ve been trying to reach Bullet Six. Can you update his status?”
Trevayne thought for a split second. “Unknown, Thunder Six.”
“Are you in command, Bullet Nine?”
“Unknown, Thunder Six.” Trevayne licked his lips. “I’m just trying to give my troops a chance with any air support you can give me, over.”
The ten seconds passed like eternity, Trevayne’s blood pulsing in his eardrums. “Bullet Nine, this is Thunder Six. I have a squadron of exos inbound with nuclear authority. I suggest your people button up and hunker down.”
“Roger, Thunder Six, thanks for your support.”
There was a laugh on the radio. Trevayne felt a smile on his face as he wondered if the voice on the other end connected the same shred of memory to what he’d said. The voice answered, “Roger, Bullet Nine. We’ll leave the light on for you.”
* * * * *
Thirty-Five
Systems check complete, Ulson saw that his wingman wasn’t moving any time soon. Both repulsor drives were failing, and the wounded tank’s main gun was nearly overheated. They continued to lay down fire on the advancing Grey vehicles, though there were significantly less than before. Ammunition status read amber, about forty percent of the basic load remaining. How much longer can we sit here and pound on the Greys that are stupid enough to crest the ridgeline? Whatever the Grey vehicles earlier were looking for was important enough to launch a huge counterattack.
“Alex, you still with me over there?”
“Roger, ma’am.” Ulson watched another Grey vehicle erupt. “What kind of vehicles are those? They look familiar.”
“They’re supposed to be T-55s, tanks used by the Soviets back on Earth a long time ago. The bore evacuator on the end of the tube is a dead giveaway. Plus, the tracks on the T-55 sagged, something called Christie suspension—the Grey ones don’t. The original ones were cheaply made and inexpensive to build, and the Greys studied that tactic. Sheer numbers versus better weapons. The Greys can use these as throwaways simply because of numbers.” She stopped talking for a moment. “Alex?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“Get ready to charge.”
Ulson blinked. “Say again?”
“You heard me, Alex. Look out there and tell me what you see.”
Ulson did as he was told. “Lots of Grey vehicles. They’re still firing.” That was true, but their movement seemed different. Scattered. Reactive. Almost as if no one was in charge. “They look confused.”
“That’s precisely why we’re going to charge right through them. Get your repulsors up and running. Thirty seconds.”
Ulson flipped over to the crew intercom. “Crew report?”
“Driver ready.”
“Comms ready.”
“Gunner ready.”
<
He keyed the microphone. “Standby to charge. Gunner fire and adjust. Comms, keep us in constant contact with Six and relay everything you have to orbit. Driver, you’ll see the other tanks out on the flank to our right charge. Wait for them to pass us, then pull out with a hard left and get alongside them. Everybody ready?”
There wasn’t much response. Charging seemed like a bad idea, but sitting in their rudimentary defensive positions was worse. Hands shaking, Ulson reached up and opened the main hatch of the Slammer. He checked the firing mechanism of the fifty-caliber machine gun without raising himself up. The gun appeared to be in working order. He test-fired it, a chugging five round burst, and settled into the seat. Before he could question what was taking so long, Captain Shields transmitted in his ears.
“Guidons, this is Six. Repulsors to five feet, charge!”
Four hundred meters away, three Slammers rose up on their repulsor treads and began to move through the vegetation. They picked up speed moving downhill and kept up an impressive rate of fire. Ulson watched them break the treeline with all of their weapon systems blazing. The Grey vehicles almost completely stopped firing and then inexplicably turned towards Ulson’s position. He chinned the frequency, “Three. You guys hunker down and kill anything that moves. One is on the roll!”
Ulson stood up on the back of the seat, felt the wind tear at him from all sides and grasped the fifty-caliber machine gun firing handle in his hands. “Driver, move out. All weapons active.”
The main gun chuffed out a round as the tank rose to five feet. A fresh burst of pungent cordite filled the turret. Ulson could taste it on his lips as he watched the round arc through the sky. The Grey vehicle that had been the target simply shattered with the impact. The fifty-caliber jumped in his hands as he worked it over another Grey vehicle, stopping it cold. There was another target, and then another, and a third. Exceptional clarity filled his mind. Every action was simple and without thought. Unconscious, yet fully aware of what he was doing at the same time. Rounds passing over his head didn’t make him flinch, though it was like he could see them spinning as they passed. The main gun slowed its rate of fire as he finished a thousand-round belt of ammunition. Ulson dropped into the tank to get another can of ammunition and realized that none of the Slammers weapons were firing.
“What’s going on? Why aren’t you firing?”
The gunner turned over his shoulder. “We’re through the Greys, sir. About twelve hundred meters to the Greys position across the ridgeline.”
Standing up, the first thing he noticed was that his machine gun was oriented over the back deck. Whispers from his former instructors circled around his head. “Target fixation is a killer,” he heard his instructors say in his head from just weeks before. Ulson shook the thought away and took a deep breath.
He changed the frequency. “Six, this is One. Orders?”
“Alex, thought I’d lost you for a moment. You’re lucky you didn’t take out one of your antennas.” Captain Shields answered on a private channel. The laser feeds were as clear as if she was sitting next to him.
Ulson felt his face flush. “Sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”
His headset squelched on the command frequency. “One, there’s an airstrike inbound on the Grey’s position. ETA is three minutes. We’ll be on the reverse slope of the ridge above their position when the airstrike drops. As soon as we can see, we can shoot. That means we’ll roll down the hill guns blazing and see what happens.”
“What about the friendlies over there?”
“Let me worry about them. Stay ready and reload. Six out.”
Ulson keyed over the command frequency and put the remaining vehicles in a three hundred sixty-degree perimeter with their main guns facing out. The Greys behind them appeared motionless on the smoke draped battlefield. The tactical display showed his wingman, Three, was still operational with four life signs on board, and it appeared they weren’t firing.
Fingers tapping, Ulson saw that Three’s gun was still active with seventy-two rounds remaining. Both repulsors failed and the vehicle had taken a hit in the main gear sprocket, disabling the auxiliary tracks. No wonder they weren’t going anywhere.
His own vehicle was in much better shape. One hundred seventeen rounds remained for the main gun and both repulsors were operational. The vehicle reported seventy-six percent combat effective overall.
The satisfaction melted away as he watched the tactical display. Greys swarmed over the ridgeline. Flashing lines indicating the firing of rounds took up the entire center of the screen. No telling how many of the regiment’s vehicles remained. He leaned forward and looked outside. “Standby all weapons. Get ready for....”
A blinding white flash exploded to Ulson’s front. Shit! He blinked and tried to rub his eyes resulting in banging his fingers off the faceplate. Ulson chinned his private channel to Shields. “Ma’am, I’m flashblind.”
“Okay.” She paused. “Alex, calm down. Close your eyes for a minute. Let your interface handle the move.”
The Mandelbrot shapes and exploding patterns of lights on the inside of his eyelids slowly began to fade. He could see the tactical display now. The fringes of his vision were slightly fuzzy. The faceplate of his crewman’s helmet had taken the brunt of the flash and saved his eyesight.
“Guidons, this is Six. Prepare to move.”
Ulson chinned the crew intercom. “Interface, make the move until I get my eyesight back.”
<
“You okay, sir?” his gunner asked. Ulson didn’t know his name yet.
“I will be in a minute. Just make sure we stay with Six.”
“Yes, sir.”
Finally, he could see again. A few afterimages dotted his eyes like the protein deposits that shackled him to eyeglasses. Adjusting his seat, Ulson looked outside again just as Captain Shields came over the frequency.
“Guidons, Six. Move out!”
* * * * *
Thirty-Six
The gentle mist turned to a cold British rain as Tally rode to meet Andrew and what might lie ahead. Mairin Shields danced through Tally’s mind like raindrops swept away by the wind from the autocar’s windows. All of that was behind her, as much as she could tell herself believably. At the end of this trip, what would her future be? What about Mairin’s? Mairin would likely not survive. She was probably dead in the action at Wolc. Tally pushed the thought from her mind. There’d been nothing from her for several days now. Of course, she’d been ordered to delete any communications from Mairin, but there should have been something. Until there was, she refused to think more about her.
What is waiting for me out there?
The first time that thought crossed her mind, she’d boarded a small, leaky freighter bound for Styrah to leave Andrew Cartner and his father behind. Ten years, she thought with a snort. Ten years and right back where she’d started. Gripping a handhold, Tallenaara shifted in her seat as the private airfield came into view. Three more minutes and she would be taking the step that had haunted her for a decade. In his smile there was love. In his arms, there would be hope.
But for what?
Being able to prolong the Styrahi genome would be a legacy that even her works could not surpass. Buildings rose, and they would come down eventually. Architects were only truly remembered by students. But was it about love, living the life she’d so desperately wanted, or leaving a legacy?
The autocar began to coast downhill towards the terminal. Tally wished for a different music package for the third time in the last hour, and looked into the falling rain. In the droplets arcing across the window, she saw Mairin sitting in the bay window of the cabin watching the rain. Tally closed her eyes, the power of the memory vivid enough she could smell the skin of Mairin’s neck against her face. Tears came, and she forced them back until one threatened to streak down her face.
At the terminal, Andrew waited outside. Alone. From a hundred meters away and closing, she knew she loved him. Perhaps that was all that mattered? She’d loved Mairin, but Mairin wasn’t Andrew. His power and status meant nothing to Styrahi, except that he’d fallen in love with a Styrahi who might, just might, be able to have his child. What would it be like, she thought. She’d have a child soon enough by Styrahi custom, but what if that child were Andrew’s?
She flushed at the thought and smiled. The autocar coasted to a stop. When the door opened, cool evening air poured inside. Tally breathed deeply and leaned forward. Andrew’s hand appeared, the Prelate’s signet ring glinting in the light of the autocar station. She did not hesitate.
“Thank you.”
Andrew held her hand as she exited the car then cradled it to his chest. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come. I cancelled all outgoing hyperbolics bound for Styrah just in case.”
She smiled at the joke, though the glint in his eyes could have meant he was serious. Surely not. “I was thinking about Narrob. There are some fabulous vineyards there.”
“Indeed.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I am glad you are here.”
Tally nodded. “What does this mean for us, Andy?”
“I’m not sure.” His eyes never left hers. “Does it matter?”
Tally smiled. “Can we get out of the rain while we figure that out?”
Andrew laughed and led her into the hangar. A sleek twin-tailed Cirrus exocraft waited for them. The cabin door was open, and there was no one in the spacious hangar but the two of them. “Privacy is hard to come by in this job, Tally.”
“I was afraid there would be press.”
Andrew laughed. “They think I was flying out of Heathrow bound for Cape Town tonight before heading back to Ireland.”
“So we’re heading to Cape Town?” Tally tightened her grip on his arm.
“No.” Andrew replied and gestured for her to climb the boarding stairs. “Darren can take care of the business in Cape Town tonight. I have approximately two days of rest built into my schedule before leaving for Tuegor.”
“And how long will you be gone?
“A week, maybe ten days depending on negotiations and diplomacy.” He laughed. “Apparently, they’re quite put off by the fact that I continually shy away from their state dinners, and that I’ve never engaged in sexual congress with their provided hostesses.”
Tally laughed and ducked into the cabin. A trim, blue-uniformed flight attendant with Irish red hair curtsied. “Welcome aboard, Lady Tallenaara.”
Heat crept to her face. Damn you, Darren! “Thank you.” She moved into the cabin. A rich mahogany desk bordered the front of the ten-foot-wide and twenty-foot-long cabin. Two plush chairs dominated the interior space with a table and media station between them. A long, sleek sofa covered the back wall of the aircraft. There was art on the walls—Da Vinci and Ford mainly. A posterized sketch of Edison’s lightbulb hung above Andrew’s desk next to a scowling photograph of Nikola Tesla. All of it classic Andy. The elevation sketch of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater house surprised her.
“Look familiar?”
Tally nodded. “Like you transformed this vehicle into your dorm room. I like the Fallingwater print.”
“Somebody I knew once said I should go and see it. That it was worth my time, effort, and money. You might remember her.”
Tally smiled. “You needed a little culture at that point in your life, Andy. Glad to see that a hardcore engineer like you could find it.”
Andrew laughed and sat heavily in one of the recliners. He patted the cushion of the adjacent one. “If I have to spend a lot of time in something like this, I expect that I should feel at home. Besides, this is my personal aircraft. The one I travel in for state functions is ten times the size, and nowhere near as comfortable.”
Tally sat, sighed, and turned her head enough to see Andy smiling at her. “What am I doing here, Andy?”
Andy’s smile evaporated, and concern broke across his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you for the first time in ten years less than twelve hours ago, you’ve asked me to Ireland with you, and against my better judgment, I’m here, wondering what I’m doing. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly.” Andrew leaned back as the aircraft began to taxi. “If you want me to stop the plane....”
Tally shook her head. “No. I want to be here. With you. I’m just wondering what’s going to happen in all of this.”
Andrew nodded. “I don’t know, Tally. But what I can tell you is that since I’ve learned you were here on Earth, my heart has been lighter, the burden of my work is easier, and I feel like I have a chance at making a difference again. That might be hard to explain, but even a Prelate can be replaced. There’s always someone looking for another family to speak for our planet.”
Tally squinted. “They were talking of replacing you?”
“I’m sure in some backroom somewhere that conversation has happened a hundred times. From everythin
g I’m hearing now, they’re wondering if I’ve gone mad or suddenly been possessed by the ghost of my father.”
“With some obvious differences, I hope?”
“Tally,” Andrew reached across and grasped her hand. “In ten years, society has moved from keeping your race at arm’s length with idle curiosity to full-blown inclusion. That’s faster than any social or cultural group in history. Ten years ago, we were written off as a dalliance, a flight of fancy by two star-crossed young lovers. Now, if we come together again, there are serious ramifications for both of our species. I am aware of that as much as you.”
Tally nodded. Both Stryah and Earth needed this union of effort. Duty meant doing things not necessarily pleasant to uphold what is right. Except when duty meant a second chance at something as important as love. She wanted this chance. Meeting Andrew’s eyes she squeezed his hand. “I’m not here for my planet, Andy.”
“Nor am I,” he said. “But I am here for you, and as such I wanted to show you something spectacular tonight.”
Tally smiled. “I was hoping for jazz music and good wine like old times.”
“I can do that.” Andrew laughed as the plane lifted off the runway and began to climb. “We’ll turn down the lights; I have the whole catalog of Dave Brubeck, Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller and all of the others you made me listen to onboard. A glass of red wine will arrive momentarily. For now, tell me about Libretto.”
So she did, leaving out the last couple of months and Mairin altogether. “It’s as close to Earth as any planet you’ve been to. It’s the best work I’ve ever been involved with. And I built a cabin there....” She paused and pushed a last thought of Mairin from her mind. “I’d love to go back there one day.”
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