Dark Foundations

by Chris Walley

  Vero nodded. “Frankie has the only artillery pieces we were able to make in time. There are three of them, but they make a difference.”

  “Yes. Well, he will need them. Now let’s look west of Isterrane.” Merral pointed to where the ridges of the Varrend Tablelands dominated the left-hand part of the map. “I want to get Leroy Makunga to bring almost all the soldiers of the Western Regiment to Isterrane to boost the defenses around the city. Leave only a hundred in Varrend City. You agree?”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Good. Now for the hard bit. What we do with the forces left at Langerstrand? You agree they must come east on the Tezekal Gorge route?”

  “Yes. They could strike north from Langerstrand and hit the Western Trunk Road, but the ground’s very rough—cliff after cliff. The Krallen might do it, but there will be support vehicles. So they will take the road.”

  “We agree. So, by universal agreement, the place to stop them is Tezekal Gorge. Once past Tezekal there is nothing to stop them before Isterrane. We may blow the bridge over the Walderand, but that will only delay them for a few hours.”

  Vero nodded.

  “Good, so I’m going to shift almost all the soldiers of the Central Regiment to Tezekal. There are already a lot there. But, Vero, I don’t like the odds. They could be well over twenty to one against us.”

  Vero grunted. “A bit better, but not much. I have already ordered more irregulars in. There are a-about a thousand there preparing for guerrilla warfare, mostly on the slopes of the Hereza Crags and at the edge of the Edelcet Marshes.”

  “That will be a help. The two attack fliers are at Isterrane. I think I’ll have them relocated to Tezekal with the bombs. Any other suggestions?”

  “Yes—take the initiative. Order Lezaroth and the Dominion forces to surrender by nine tomorrow.”

  “What good will that do?”

  Vero gave the weakest of smiles. “Probably none. But it will show them we’re not afraid. And it appeals to my sense of the dramatic.”

  “Very well. But do we have any hope?”

  There was a long pause. “Early this morning, I would have said very little. But Perena . . . has given us a chance.” He felt silent and Merral felt that grief had invaded the room.

  Eventually Vero looked up. “But, my friend, we have to admit that frankly it’s not promising. And Azeras warns us that if this baziliarch joins in the fighting, we are in trouble. As ever we must do our best and rely on the grace of the Most High.”

  He stood. “I’m certain that we’ll face them tomorrow at Tezekal Gorge. I want to go there as soon as I can. I want to take Azeras and Betafor.”

  “I thought you didn’t trust her.”

  “I don’t—or not entirely—but it’s a risk worth taking. It has emerged that she has the ability to listen in to transmissions. The Dominion messages are encrypted so she can’t understand them, but she can make a good guess as to the sort of thing they are saying. She will serve us; she knows what side her bread is buttered on.”

  “I thought she didn’t eat. . . . Oh, I see.”

  “Never mind. Anyway, we have a case to transport her in. The plan is to take her hidden in this case and lock her in a room with a lot of receiving equipment. Incidentally, only a few of my closest aides know about Azeras and Betafor. But their input has been invaluable and it is vital that the Dominion doesn’t realize that we have their aid. Assuming, that is, the baziliarch hasn’t passed on the news about Azeras.”

  “Very well. So what would you suggest that I do?”

  “You? Sit down, pray, and write that speech.” Vero looked at his watch. “I wouldn’t come out to Tezekal tonight unless there is any action. Get the best night’s sleep you can here and come out by dawn. I’ll have armor for you there. Remember, Lezaroth will target you if he can.”

  “Very well. I need to talk to Anya.”

  “Yes, Anya.” Vero rubbed his forehead with his knuckle in an expression of sad perplexity. “She knew what her sister planned to do. She’s already out at Tezekal.”

  “Was that wise to send her there?”

  “Try stopping her. She’s part of the intelligence team. She has a job to do and she will do it. And maybe action will ease the mourning.”

  They looked at each other.

  Merral sighed. “In that, she isn’t alone.”

  And after Vero left him, Merral consulted Clemant, then sent a message to the Langerstrand base.

  “Fleet-Commander Lezaroth, this is Commander Merral D’Avanos. You have lost the Triumph of Sarata and most of your ground forces. We are surrounding your remaining forces. We give you the opportunity to surrender. We promise mercy to you and all those others who are human. You have until 0900 hours tomorrow Central Menaya Time to surrender. Should you begin further hostilities, we will return fire.”

  There was no reply.

  Merral tried to write his speech, but images of Perena kept disrupting his train of thought. Eventually it was done and Clemant approved the wording. Merral wondered if Clemant had ever considered making changes or whether asking to approve it was just a way of making the point that he was in control.

  Merral gave the speech live. He began by introducing himself and outlining the events of the last few days, from the appearance of the Triumph of Sarata to the seizing of hostages at Langerstrand and the massacre at Tantaravekat. “Accordingly, it was decided that an act of war had been committed and that we were entitled to fight back. This morning, Central Menaya Time, Captain Perena Lewitz lured the Triumph of Sarata into the firing zone of the Guardian satellites. The result was, as she knew was probable, the utter destruction of both vessels. Captain Lewitz was a close friend of mine, and her loss is deeply felt. In whatever lies ahead of us as a world, I would like you to remember Captain Lewitz’s example.

  “At the time of Captain Lewitz’s sacrificial tactic, Representative Anwar Corradon and I were trying to negotiate with the head of the Dominion forces at Langerstrand. Enraged by the loss of their ship, they attacked us personally. Representative Corradon fought back heroically and was slain by Ambassador Tinternli, who was herself killed by an Assembly rescue force. Since then, using improvised weapons, we have eliminated many of the Dominion’s attack forces.

  “Nevertheless, many remain. We know that the enemy has already landed on Menaya tens of thousands of four-legged synthetic life-forms called Krallen. While these are intelligent and cunning, they are only imitators of life, rather than living things. I just want to say here that although they are deadly, they can be defeated. They deserve no mercy and should be shown none. In addition to the use of these Krallen, we expect other forces to be used against us.

  “We have given the Dominion forces a chance to surrender. In the next few hours, we expect land battles to begin between our forces and theirs. Whether you are a member of the regular forces, what we call the irregulars, or simply an ordinary civilian, all we ask is that you play your part with courage and determination.” He paused. “I wish that I could predict with confidence that we will win quickly and easily over these forces. I cannot. Our battle here is part of the long war against evil. Whether we win or lose this battle, we can be assured that this war will ultimately be won. It may be, in the wisdom and foreknowledge of the Most High, that we will lose here. But whether we win or lose, let us fight in such a way that, until the very end of the age, men and women’s hearts will fill with pride when they hear the name Farholme. . . . God bless you all.”

  Minutes after the broadcast, Vero called Merral. “My friend, that was magnificent. I watched it with the soldiers here. I tell you there are people who would follow you to the gates of hell.”

  “I’m glad they found it encouraging. I needed to encourage myself.”

  “Well done. Stay safe tonight. There’s nothing happening at Langerstrand.”

  Later that evening, Merral lay on his mattress in the annex and tried to sleep. For a long time though, sleep would not come and instead, he lay awake thinki
ng of Perena and feeling sad.

  “What happened in there, Ambassador?” Lezaroth’s voice rang around the tiny room. He continued to pace around the seated figure of Hazderzal. “I asked that they be killed! Instead, Tinternli was killed and he escaped!” There was no need to spell out who he was.

  The two armed guards on either side of the sealed door stared rigidly ahead.

  “I was . . . overwhelmed by events,” Hazderzal said with a tremor in his voice.

  “Ambassador, you are now surplus to requirements.” And I have more pressing demands on my time.

  Lezaroth noted that his guards had turned and looked at him in anticipation of an order. “Throw him to the baziliarch.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Hazderzal’s eyes were wide. “I’m a friend of the lord-emperor!”

  “You were.”

  Lezaroth watched as a screaming Hazderzal was dragged away. I must remember to amend the account so that D’Avanos’s men killed both ambassadors.

  He called up the wallscreen map of Farholme. This morning’s loss had been appalling. Even if blame was not going to be attached to him—he would make sure of that—he needed to salvage ultimate victory out of the debacle. But the battle was far from lost. He was protected from attack by hostages, he still had vast forces at his command, and the opposition was very badly armed. But he could afford no more slipups. The Farholmers had already shown that they were tricky opponents.

  Lezaroth had a long-standing reluctance to use extra-physical forces. They could be so unreliable. (Hadn’t they promised the lord-emperor that Hanax would play a great role?) But now he had little choice. He would use the Baziliarch on the battlefield.

  Lezaroth pondered the map for some time. I will attack tomorrow and push straight to this world’s capital. I should take it by nightfall.

  He began to draw up his plans.

  Merral and Lloyd boarded the flier at an already busy Isterrane Airport just as the first golden rays of dawn struck the highest towers.

  The rear of the flier was filled with boxes. Armor and new blades, Merral surmised. The thought troubled him. We’re still equipping our troops, yet battle may begin within hours.

  As she waited for clearance to take off, the unfamiliar pilot turned her head to Merral. “I knew Perena, Commander. I’m very proud to have known her.”

  “Thank you,” Merral said, a lump forming in his throat. “Thank you very much.” He looked away, unable to speak. Yesterday, the shock of Perena’s death was so great that it did not allow for grief. Today, it has worn off enough for me to feel the bite of the loss.

  They landed at a new earth strip just east of Tezekal Ridge within walking distance of the village. The early morning sunlight cast long, sharp shadows and made the rocks of the ridge and the high slopes of Mount Adaman seem even more jagged and broken.

  Merral stood by the flier as soldiers unloaded the equipment. He looked around, noting that it was already warm and that they had flattened olive groves to make the runway, on which already half a dozen vessels were lined up including, ominously, two white hospital ships. Beyond them were two small aircraft with red cylinders stacked under their long wings that Merral recognized as the attack fliers. Between these and the village was a sprawling tented encampment seething with activity. No one strolled. Everyone jogged or strode with urgent paces.

  At the edge of the runway, a slight, familiar figure wearing a brown jerkin and dark glasses beckoned Merral over. It was Vero.

  As he walked over, on impulse, Merral stopped and stooped down to touch the crushed remains of an olive tree. He stroked the dying shrivelled leaves with his fingers.

  “Trees can be replanted,” he said with a soft sigh.

  Lloyd, standing at his side, nodded.

  He understands.

  Vero extended a hand of greeting. “Welcome, Commander. How are you?”

  “I feel as if something has been amputated from me. And I can only imagine how you feel, Vero. I really don’t know what to say.”

  “T-there’s nothing you need to say.” There was a terrible sadness in his words. “But we have work to do.”

  “And I will do it. Any news from Langerstrand?”

  “Nothing so far. The intelligence team here is keeping a careful eye on matters.”

  “Who’s in the team? You said Anya?”

  “Anya, Azeras, and Betafor. And we have a dozen watchers out on the Hereza Crags and even a few on Mount Adaman. Azeras thinks the Dominion will wait until after the deadline to move. That gives us an hour or so. T-time for you to get geared up. And Luke Tenerelt is here. He was doing the rounds of the troops when I last saw him.”

  “I’m glad he’s here. I think we’ll need him.”

  They walked along narrow paths lined with stone walls into the village. Birds hopped from branch to branch; brown lizards stared at them and then scuttled away across stones, sunlight glistened on fading dew. Life goes on. The idea gave him little comfort.

  A tall man wearing green armor and a helmet waited for them at the top of the steps. Zak Larraine. He had a sword at his belt.

  “Sir!” Zak snapped, throwing his gloved hand tight against his helmet in the crispest of salutes and somehow managing to stamp his boot heels together on the ground. “Welcome to Tezekal HQ, sir. Colonel Lanier is expecting you in the command room.”

  Merral found the enthusiasm in Zak’s voice irritating. “I wasn’t aware you were here, Colonel Larraine,” he said, returning the salute with what he knew was a much slacker gesture. Somehow military protocol seemed less important than it once had.

  “Sorry, sir. It’s just that training is over. And, well, I didn’t want to miss a battle. You know me.” Zak smiled.

  “Yes, I do. Well, I doubt you will be disappointed today, sadly.”

  Merral read incomprehension in Zak’s eyes.

  “I don’t think it sad, sir. These things need thrashing.”

  The incomprehension is mutual, Merral decided, but said nothing in reply.

  Zak’s expression brightened. “Sir, Colonel Lanier has given me authority to command the troops on the south side of the gorge. I’m going to be with them now to make sure we’re as well prepared as we can be. Is that okay, sir?”

  “Yes. It’s fine by me.”

  Zak saluted again and, almost bounding down the steps, headed toward the gorge.

  The headquarters was a white-walled house that had been hastily altered. The doors had been removed from their hinges and the glass taken from the windows. Outside, dusty soldiers piled up earth banks.

  The living room was now the control room. A fine set of windows had once looked west over the marsh. Now though, the only view was of an embankment beneath a narrow strip of sky.

  Inside the room five men, all dressed in the new armor, but with their helmets off, stood around new tables. On one wall hung a full-length screen with a hazy aerial image of Langerstrand. All the desks bore smaller screens. Wires and fiber-optic cables were taped or patched to the floor and walls. Merral felt the whole setup showed signs of being put together in extreme haste.

  There were welcomes, introductions, and offers of coffee. Two of the men, Captain Tremutar and Colonel Leopold Lanier, Merral already knew; the other three were aides.

  Colonel Lanier was in his late fifties. His silver hair, tanned, leathery face, and thin, rather stylish mustache made him look more like an elegant uncle than a soldier.

  He gestured at the screens. “Well now, where shall I begin?” he said in a gentle and leisured voice. “We get all the sensor images here. We have a satellite overhead, some remote cameras mounted on the ridge tops, and we get some images from our soldiers on the peninsula. Everything possible’s linked with fiber-optical cabling so it can’t be intercepted or interfered with. And Mr. V. feeds us information from his irregs and the intelligence team. So I guess we know what’s happening.” He stroked his mustache thoughtfully and turned dark brown eyes at Merral. “And, so far . . . well . . . nothing is happening.�
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  Merral found the colonel’s unflustered manner reassuring. “Tell me about our troop deployment.”

  The wallscreen changed to show a detailed map of the gorge overlain with various color squares and dots forming a horseshoe shape facing west.

  “Well, we’ve put defenses at several levels along both sides of the gorge. The sniper team—that’s under Captain Karita Hatiran—takes the top levels. Then we have a level with mortars, and then finally, the lowest level of soldiers with guns and these new swords.”

  The colonel’s face wrinkled in thought and Merral saw him glance at Vero. He’s not sure about the swords. I sympathize.

  “But, Commander, it’s not easy. No, it truly ain’t.” Colonel Lanier gave his mustache another stroke. “We’re outnumbered and we don’t know how these things fight. I saw them briefly at Fallambet and I didn’t care for them there. Not one bit. And there’s a lot more here. A lot more.”

  Over the next ten minutes, as they looked at the defensive plans, Merral became increasingly uncomfortable. It was not just that the odds were bad, but that there were too many unknowns. Despite the polite words the men made about the new armor and the blades, they were clearly unsure of their value.

  Colonel Lanier seemed to sum up the mood with his slow words. “Commander, we know we are effectively the last line of defense. We’ll do our best and you can be sure the Assembly will be proud of us. But, frankly . . .” He looked thoughtful and fingered his mustache. “Well, I guess it doesn’t look good.”

  “Colonel, I find it hard to disagree with you. But we are going to fight and fight hard. And let’s hang on to faith and hope.”

  Vero led Merral and Lloyd across the road into a long house with closed shutters.

  An armed guard sitting on a chair inside the door motioned them in.

  Vero gestured to a door from behind which could be heard the sound of urgent discussions. “That’s the irregular control room. Similar, but more informal, and we have better coffee. But there’s no the time for that. Follow me.”