Weapons of War

by M. R. Forbes

  Gabriel didn't respond to the greeting. He was trying to put together the pieces of the Dread's conversation, to understand the complete picture of what was really happening on the fortress. He was starting to feel as though for all of their efforts, and for every member of the crew they had lost, their offensive was inconsequential to the infighting that appeared to be going on. Maybe it was. Gr'el had clearly been expecting Tea'va to lead them here. He had been waiting to get the drop on the traitor.

  Tea'va was seething next to him, his teeth bared, his pale face darkened. "Mistake?" he hissed. "You owe me Hesh dur bek for words such as those."

  "Honor of battle?" Gr'el said. "You have no honor, Tea'va. You surrendered. You agreed to retirement. You didn't even have the courage to go through with it."

  "Who are you to speak of honor and courage? You betrayed me. Worse, you sent a Mother to assassinate me instead of trying to do it yourself. A Mother!"

  Tea'va took a step forward. The clones raised their weapons, signaling their warning.

  "Careful, Tea'va," Gr'el said. "The only reason I haven't killed you already is because I'm enjoying the embarrassment of your defeat. A Mother is all you are worth. I would never dirty my hands with you."

  Tea'va's face gnarled in rage, but he stood his ground, drawing a laugh from the other Dread.

  "Even now, you care too much for your life to honor it by attacking me." Gr'el looked over at Gabriel again. "You will make an excellent prize. I have no doubt your genetics are of superior quality. Zoelle, this one should be an improvement for the programming, should it not?"

  The Juliet clone with the blue pin nodded. "Yes, my Dahm. The Heil'shur is assuredly of impressive genetic stock."

  "You would know," Gabriel said. "Or rather the woman whose life was claimed in your making would know."

  "What do you mean?" Gr'el asked.

  "My name is Gabriel St. Martin," Gabriel said, feeling his hands clenching into fists. His initial fear of the situation was quickly changing to a cold anger. "My mother was Juliet St. Martin. Does that name mean anything to you?"

  The Juliet clones all gasped as one. Gr'el seemed surprised as well, his inhuman smile growing even larger at the news. "You are a child of the un'hai? A natural born child? You are a more valuable prize than I could have ever imagined."

  "I don't know what you've done to her," Gabriel said, his sudden anger exploding as he spoke. His hand came up, wrapping around the crucifix below his flight suit, clenching it tightly."You and your Domo'dick, or whatever you call him. My mother was kind and gentle, compassionate and intelligent. She wasn't a traitor. She wasn't a killer. She didn't use humankind like a toy to program to her whims, or anyone else's. She wasn't an inconsequential thing, or a tool to be used as a means to your own ends. You've twisted her memory into something foul. You've soiled everything she stood for. You son of a bitch."

  He acted without thinking then, springing forward toward the Dread. Unlike Tea'va, he didn't care if that meant dying. The other clone of her he had met, Ehri, was helping the rebellion. She was fighting for humankind the way Juliet St. Martin would have. He didn't know how or why, but she was.

  There had been no one to defend his mother's honor before.

  There was now.

  He got closer to Gr'el than he expected, almost reaching him before one of the Mothers came from the side, slamming him in the head with the butt of her rifle. He tumbled sideways onto the floor, a sharp pain in his jaw.

  "Be careful, druk'shur," Gr'el shouted. "You'll damage him."

  "My apologies, Dahm Gr'el," the clone replied, lowering her head.

  Gabriel pushed himself into a seated position, clenching his teeth as he did. He looked back at Gr'el, and then beyond him to the Juliet clones. He froze when he noticed that Zoelle was staring right at him, a sudden look of concern on her face. It vanished a moment later.

  Was he imagining things?

  "And what do you intend to do with me?" Tea'va said.

  Gr'el glanced over at Tea'va. "Are you still here?" He reached out, grabbing a rifle from one of the clones. "You've ceased being amusing, lor'el."

  He pulled the trigger at the same time Gabriel hit his shoulder, sending the plasma bolt wide. Gr'el pivoted with the blow, swinging the weapon back around and slamming it hard into Gabriel's gut. Gabriel doubled over, the air stolen from his chest. He put his hand on the floor to steady himself. He had to get up. To keep fighting. His mother's memory demanded it.

  He felt Gr'el's long fingers wrap around his neck. Then he was lifted off the ground, held by the throat and unable to breathe. It didn't matter what he wanted. His strength was vastly inferior to the Dread's.

  "How dare you touch me," Gr'el growled, the pressure from his hands increasing. "I had forgotten how willful the un'hai was rumored to be, and what a poor pur'hai she was. It was only the Domo'dahm's weakness that allowed her to become so revered."

  He let go. Gabriel fell to the ground again, gasping for air.

  Gr'el aimed his rifle again, this time at Gabriel. "Honor and respect to you for your prowess in battle, Heil'shur. Your courage is commendable. I see now that you will be more trouble than you're worth. I would sooner destroy you and your fellow humans than have your lor'hai aboard my ship, or as part of my bek'hai empire."

  "My. Name. Is. Gabriel St. Martin," Gabriel gasped, trying to stand again. "Son of Theodore and Juliet St. Martin. Remember that, asshole."

  "Very well, Gabriel-"

  A small fist came from Gr'el's left, hitting him square across the jaw with enough force to knock him to the ground. Gabriel's eyes darted to his attacker. The Juliet clone he had called Zoelle.

  "You wanted your Hesh dur bek, Tea'va," she said. "Now is your chance."

  SIXTY-FOUR

  "Zoelle?" Gr'el said, his words muffled by his broken jaw. "Traitor. Kill her. Kill the Scientists."

  The Mothers raised their rifles, turning them toward the Juliets.

  Tea'va sprang at Gr'el, kicking him in the face before he could recover and sending him rolling across the floor.

  Gabriel pushed aside his shock, forcing himself to his feet.

  Zoelle turned on the closest Mother, punching her hard in the stomach, and then in the face, knocking her down.

  The plasma followed, Mothers and Scientists shooting at one another at point-blank range. Gabriel didn't know what the difference was between like clones, but Zoelle not only held herself as superior, she clearly was. She danced to the side as a plasma bolt skimmed her robes, twirling and moving forward, grabbing the Mother's arms and lifting them, so the next shot went to the ceiling. She turned again, gathering the Mother's weight and pulling, throwing her over her shoulder while capturing her rifle. The Mother tried to get up, but couldn't before Zoelle shot her.

  A second Mother was lining up a shot behind Zoelle. Gabriel stumbled forward, slamming into the clone and falling on top of her. She struggled beneath him while he tried to pin her arms. She pushed back, throwing him aside with a strength he couldn't believe.

  It didn't matter. One of the Scientists was over her a moment later, firing down into her chest. She was killed before Gabriel could blink, caught with a plasma blast by a nearby enemy. That Mother went down in a shrill cry, hit by another plasma bolt, this one fired by Zoelle.

  Gabriel got back to his feet, finding Gr'el and Tea'va squaring off a few meters away. The two Dread warriors circled one another, their teeth bared like animals, their hands out with fingers curled as if they were claws.

  Then Gr'el moved in on Tea'va, his hands a blur as he made a series of quick strikes, slapping and punching at the other Dread. Tea'va moved in time to the attack, shifting his balance and either knocking aside the blows or adjusting to allow them to land harmlessly. He survived the onslaught before countering with a fury of his own, pushing back against Gr'el with a long series of kicks and punches that bore similarity to streams Gabriel had seen of human martial arts. The difference was in the power and quickness of the movement
s. The Dread were a blur as they attacked and counter-attacked one another in near silence.

  And then Tea'va seemed to get the better of Gr'el. He slipped behind his rival, locking a hand around his neck and an arm around his chest. The larger Dread writhed beneath the grip, trying to find purchase on the ground, trying to find leverage to turn the hold.

  Tea'va grunted as he bent backward, lifting Gr'el from the ground. Gr'el tried to punch him from behind, landing ineffective blows against his sides. Gr'el also attempted to slam him in the face with the back of his head, but it was just out of reach.

  "You are a disgrace to the bek'hai," Gr'el said, his voice growing weak. "There is no honor for you in this killing, Tea'va."

  "I need no honor from you," Tea'va replied. "All I need is for you to expire. The true betrayal belongs to you and the Domo'dahm."

  Gr'el tried to say something else, but couldn't manage it. He gurgled instead, and then shuddered one last time before falling still.

  Tea'va dropped his corpse to the floor.

  A silence fell over the ship. The battle between the clones was over as well. None of the Mothers were standing. Two of the Scientists remained, including Zoelle. She was walking toward him from his left. Tea'va was coming toward him from his right.

  "Zoelle," Tea'va said.

  She raised her hand to Tea'va, ignoring the Dread and locking eyes with Gabriel. "Gabriel St. Martin," she said, a tear running from her eye. "I am Zoelle dur Tuhrik, Dahm of the Ishur."

  "You are not Dahm," Tea'va said. "Lor'hai cannot be Dahm."

  She continued to ignore him. "My ship is yours, Gabriel. As is my life. It is an honor to meet the son of the un'hai."

  She fell to her knees in front of him, bowing her head. The other Juliet clone did the same behind her.

  Gabriel opened his mouth, catching himself before he called her mother. "I. I need you to call off the attack on my people," he said, finding it hard to breathe.

  Zoelle looked back at the other clone, who headed off toward the bridge. "It will be done."

  "You have no authority," Tea'va said.

  Gabriel turned on the Dread. "What are your intentions, Tea'va?" he snapped. "You pledged yourself to me to help you get revenge, and now you have it. Will you betray me as he betrayed you? If so, do it now."

  Once more, Gabriel thought he saw the hint of anger in the Dread's expression. Once more, it faded in an instant. Tea'va didn't attack him. Instead, he lowered his head.

  "My apologies, Gabriel St. Martin."

  Gabriel turned back to Zoelle. "Please. Stand up. You saved my life. You saved my crew. You saved my father. You never have to lower your head to me."

  Zoelle looked up, her eyes moist. "Did you say your father? He is here?"

  "Yes."

  "I should very much like to meet him."

  SIXTY-FIVE

  "It was simple, really, General," Reza said. "The Dread modulation follows a predefined pattern loosely based on rudimentary quantum physics and string theory. Once Guy and I broke down the pattern, we were able to work out an equation to describe how to alter it to defeat the modulation. What I'm not clear about is why the Dread use the technology the way they do. It's as if they figured out the most basic principles of phasing, and decided to stop there. Although, I guess it could have something to do with the resources they have available. The use of organic matter has some clear benefits, but it also has some well-defined drawbacks, especially concerning variability. Do you-"

  "Mr. Mokri," Theodore said, glancing over at the scientist. "Can you please pipe it for a minute or two? Gabriel is out there, and so are my people. I'm worried sick about all of them, and I'm too damn old and too damn incapacitated to help out. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

  Reza stopped talking. "I'm sorry, General. I talk when I get nervous."

  "Understood, but that's the fourth time I've had to ask. The next time, I'm not going to be polite."

  "Yes, sir."

  Theodore looked away, back toward the door. He knew Reza was going to start up again. It was in the boy's blood. In part it was annoying. In part, it was comforting. At least he wasn't here alone.

  It had been nearly an hour since Gabriel had left him in the small room. It was a long time. Too long as far as he was concerned. He was afraid his son was dead, his crew lost. He had been tempted to go out there more times than he could count.

  Every part of him wanted to be doing something active, something useful. Every part of him knew it would be a mistake.

  His value was in his mind, and in his skill at the command of a starship. His days as a foot soldier had been over long before he had destroyed his legs.

  And how the hell would Gabriel find him if he left the room, anyway?

  He closed his eyes, his lips moving in another prayer that Gabriel would come through that door again, and sometime soon. He was afraid for him, and at the same time, he had that feeling in his gut that he was still out there. Still alive. He held onto it, refusing to let it go. Gabriel was a better man than he had ever been. He was the best of him and Juliet. He would be okay.

  Once they took the ship, once Tea'va showed them how to fly it, he would use it to return to Calawan. Alan couldn't ignore him then. He would have no choice but to organize the troops, and to pour every resource into preparing to return home. They would use what Guy and Sarah and Reza had discovered to build better defenses and better weapons. They would return to Earth as the Dread had arrived.

  Completely unstoppable.

  He smiled at the thought. He had promised her he would go back. That he would find a way to save them.

  The smile vanished. Only if Gabriel survived. Only if they managed to win. Had he saved them by flying the Magellan into the Dread fortress or had he sealed their fate?

  He wanted a resolution. An answer to the question.

  He wanted Gabriel back.

  "It's too quiet in here," he said. "What else you got stewing in that brain of yours, Mr. Mokri?"

  "You just told me to shut up, sir."

  "And now I'm telling you to talk."

  "Okay. Well, I was just thinking a little bit more about the organic compounds we found in the Dread rifle. Of course, the composition is nothing we have on Earth, but the thing is that any organic compound will break down over time. Decompose. The compounds in the rifle looked relatively fresh."

  "Meaning what?"

  "Meaning that wherever they came from, the Dread must have a source somewhere."

  "Like a farm?"

  Reza laughed. "Yes, sir. In a sense. Although it is more likely that they grow the organic materials from stem cells. That would be more logical, considering the-"

  A knock sounded from the other side of the wall. A simple rhythm that Theodore knew instantly. He was already beaming by the time the door slid open and he saw Gabriel standing there, unharmed and smiling along with him.

  "Gabriel," Theodore said. He couldn't remember the last time he had been as excited about anything. Probably the day he had met Juliet. "Thank God."

  Gabriel entered the room, leaning down and wrapping his arms around him. "We did it, Dad. The ship is ours."

  "I'd say I don't believe it, son, but I always had faith in you."

  Gabriel stood up. Theodore could tell right away that there was something off about him.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Uh. Dad, I. I'm not sure about this."

  "About what?"

  Gabriel's face was flushing. "Just try to stay calm, okay?"

  "Damn it, boy, what the hell are you talking about? You want me to stay calm, and you're getting me all worked up with your beating around the bayou."

  Gabriel stepped aside.

  Everything stopped.

  Memories flooded Theodore at the sight of her. So many memories. The day they met. Their first kiss. That day on the beach. The first time they made love. Their first house. The cat she had named Bobo because she thought the way he said it was funny, and it stayed funny
that darn kit's entire life. It was as though he relived it all in a single breath.

  Juliet. He had spent the last fifty years longing to see her alive one more time. Wanting to look at her face, to see into eyes that could see him back. He felt the tears come, sliding down his cheeks as he stared at the woman in front of him. In the back of his mind, he knew she wasn't the real thing. He knew she was a clone. For a moment, it didn't matter.

  "Juliet," he whispered.

  She came to him, kneeling beside him with tears on her face, and a smile that he would have known anywhere. A smile he had missed more than anything in the universe.

  "Theodore," she said, putting soft hands on his. Hands that tingled at the touch. "It's been so long. I thought I would never see you again."

  "What?" he heard Gabriel say behind her.

  "It's me," she said, her voice as beautiful and soothing as he remembered. "It's your Juliet. I always knew you would keep your promise. I always knew you would come back. I've prepared them for you.

  The Domo'dahm has no idea what he has done."

  Thank you for reading Weapons of War!

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