Chapter Six
Friendly Fire
“We’re at war!” Bibi exclaimed.
Tipi couldn’t believe it when their teachers had announced it. The lecture they were in had been interrupted and they had been asked to go to the main hall. Once there they found that the whole campus was gathered inside. Everyone was excited and anxious, and rumours abounded. The truth was a shock. The Dean of the Faculty had stood on the stage with the rest of her staff and told them what she knew. It wasn’t much. The Keruh had broken the treaty and attacked them without warning. They were now at war with the Keruh.
Everyone wanted to ask questions, and some of the students cried. But Bibi was as excited as ever.
“Are you sending us home, Miss?” he called out.
“No, we are not sending you home,” the Dean answered firmly. “You are to remain in this building at all times, and under no circumstances are you to leave or to try and go home. When we know that it is safe we will tell you. Until then you will have to be patient.”
There could have been a panic, but such was the shock of the news that the students just sat, numbed.
The sight of the Keruh Host stamping passed the College had frightened them. And the idea that their armed forces were now battling with these evil looking creatures in the centre of Jutlam City was enough to keep them exactly where they were. But there wasn’t one among them who didn’t yearn for the safety of their own home and the arms of their parents.
A long period of waiting followed the announcement, and with nothing to do in the main hall but wait, boredom and imagination soon took over the minds of the students. Every sound outside caught their attention, causing the odd embarrassed scream. And every teacher who came and went was scrutinized for any hint of more news. But there wasn’t any more news, and nothing seemed to happen, so for a while, the passing vehicles on the road outside became the focus of their attention.
At first, the traffic on the road comprised of military vehicles. There were Armoured Personnel Carriers, tanks and other forms of mobile guns. They all rushed toward the city in never ending numbers. Those vehicles coming out of the city tended to be cars, vans and buses. There were few at first, their drivers looking surprised and bemused by the military vehicles coming toward them. They pulled off the road and watched them go by with anxious faces. But as time passed, the military vehicles disappeared, and the number of civilian vehicles coming from the city increased. This time the drivers were in a hurry, and their expressions were desperate. They hurtled down the road, trying to overtake one another in a flurry of horn blowing. But as time passed even these vehicles slowly diminished in number until no more came. The road outside became silent and empty.
With nothing else to distract them, a morbid atmosphere soon filled the hall. Some of the students began to cry softly, but most just sat silently, their heads down. Even Bibi had lost his enthusiasm as the hours had passed.
“Oh, why can’t they let us go home?” he asked Tipi after what seemed like an age. “We’ve been here for hours!”
Tipi shrugged. “They have to be sure it’s safe. They’re responsible for us, so they can’t just kick us out.”
Bibi sighed. “I’m fed up! I want to go home!”
Tipi made no reply. He also wanted to go home. He wanted to see Breda and his mother and father all safe and well. But all the students in the hall had the same thoughts. Tipi could see the girl from the classroom when he and Bibi had watched the Keruh go by. She was crying, and one of the teachers was comforting her.
Another hour had passed when military trucks appeared on the road. But instead of driving passed on the way to the city, they stopped outside. All the students in the hall stared through the windows as soldiers in dull green battle armour jumped out and ran into the College building. A few minutes later the Dean returned. She looked ashen, crestfallen. And she wasn’t alone. There was a soldier with her. His battle armour was dirty and pockmarked with blackened laser impacts. He looked stern. The Dean spoke in whispers to the other teachers. One of them clapped her hands to her face in shock, while another sank down to her knees and cried. And one of the male teachers kicked at the wall in frustration.
The news was not good. Tipi stared in amazement as the Dean told them what had happened. She told them about the unprovoked attack in the square, and the battle in the streets that had followed. It was a battle that was still going on. But worse news was to follow. The Dean now introduced the soldier. His name was Falamunus, he was a Colonel in the army, and he had been placed in charge of the evacuation of Jutlam City. He spoke gravely, but without emotion.
“At four-fifteen pm today, Jutlam City fell to the Keruh. The whole of the Ruling Council were lost. Eden is now under military law. You are all to be evacuated to Hilbrok immediately. Transports are waiting outside. Please follow your teachers’ instructions and move calmly and quickly to the exits.”
There were gasps of amazement and cries that it couldn’t be true. And amid them all were stronger protests.
One of the students stood up. “What about my mum and dad?” he shouted.
Another girl also stood up. “I’m not going anywhere without Daddy! He’ll be coming for me! He will! I know he will!”
There were more protests and tears, but Colonel Falamunus was firm. “No one is coming for you here! All civilian methods of transportation have ceased both in the air and on the ground. All survivors from Jutlam City are being taken to Hilbrok by military transport. Your parents and families will already be on their way. That’s why we have to hurry. Now let’s get moving!”
The ships that had taken off from Nemen and Kalahar headed toward Elengrad and Jutlam City, but their captains were in a quandary. Of all the military hardware at the Edenite’s disposal, it was their ships that were the most advanced and powerful. But to use the ship’s weapons against the Keruh Host would require pinpoint accuracy if they were to avoid destroying their own cities and killing their own people. The only solution was to fly low, bringing them in range of the heavy weapons carried by some of the Keruh Warriors. But there was another problem to contend with.
At Elengrad, the Keruh had positioned heavy ground batteries around the portal. They were so large that moving them any farther away from the portal would have taken days. But as they were only required to protect the portal itself, that had been unnecessary. The Edenite ships that approached Elengrad met heavy and accurate fire. Flying so low and so close together over the city, they got in each other’s way, and made the task of the Keruh gunners easy. Many were hit and two were shot down before the others finally gave up the attack. Even then, another was brought down as it accelerated away. But the short time the Edenite ships spent flying low over the city gave their crews a good view of what had befallen the citizens and the buildings. All was fire and smoke, and dead littered the streets and the squares. It was a scene that caused all restraint to leave them.
The Edenite ships moved to the safety of greater height, and slugged it out with the Keruh ground batteries. It was a protracted and devastating offensive. And with the accuracy of the Edenite gunners no longer an issue, more of the city succumbed to the heavy blasts.
At Jutlam City the battle between air and ground was more one-sided. Slow moving ships flew low over the buildings to avoid being a target for the nearby batteries at Elengrad, and a cat and mouse game quickly developed with the Keruh Host on the ground. The Keruh Warriors shot at anything in the city, their purpose seemingly to destroy everything. They would even fire up at the ships that attacked them, using the same heavy weapons that brought down the buildings around them. Each bright beam left a blackened pockmark in the metal hulls of the ships. But the firepower from the large vessels floating above the city was much more effective. In one blast a dozen Warriors would be blown to fiery fragments. And the ships fired down at the packed streets constantly.
To escape the onslaught the Warriors would hide in the ruined buildings, or race down the entrances of th
e underground rapid transit system. The underground tunnels were perfect for them. Here they could move about the city unobserved, safe from aerial attack, until they emerged again to shoot at other buildings. But as soon as they reappeared the ships would float toward them again, firing down at any Warriors in the street, or who were exposed when a building was hit. And many buildings were hit. At first the gunners were reluctant to fire down at the grand buildings in the city, but when the first of their ships finally succumbed to the constant barrage of laser blasts from below, and it fell into a suburb engulfing the houses in a ball of fire and smoke, their reluctance ended. From then on, the city was doomed.
As each building burned and fell, more of the Keruh Warriors would rush for other cover. A frenzy of shooting from the ships above would result. The once fine streets and boulevards were peppered with craters, the abandoned cars that littered them burnt out, and the trees that lined them left cracked and burning. And amidst all the fire and smoke, the Edenite military fought to evacuate the civilians from the city while fighting a rearguard action with the Keruh.
Armoured vehicles moved hesitantly from corner to corner. Soldiers in full battle armour ran from street to street, pointing at distant objectives and enemies, and marshalling stunned and bedraggled survivors. Down other streets, the Keruh advanced whenever the skies were clear, their Warriors searching each building and shooting through doorways. The large weapons some of them carried had a devastating effect, and many more buildings fell in clouds of dust. The dust combined with the smoke, enveloping the city in thick smog. And every so often, friend and foe would come abruptly face-to-face, and death would swiftly follow.
The Host of the Mysan’Taf used every technique of war at their disposal, from guerrilla tactics to out and out charges down the street. And they cared little for their own survival. Just at the moment the Edenites thought they were safe, death would rush at them with an axe in one hand and a rifle in the other. Hand to hand combat was commonplace, with many an Edenite soldier proving his bravery and strength. But it was to no avail. As a full evacuation began, and people fled the city anyway they could, Jutlam City, the capital of Eden, slowly burned, and the sky above it filled with smoke.
Out in space, the Klysanthian Second and Ninth Fleets swept passed Eden without slowing. Only the Bread of Angels and her tiny flotilla broke formation. They flew down, entering the outer layers of atmosphere. On the way they found the half built space station in orbit. They quickly shot at it, sending it spinning and plummeting to earth. They followed it down, another appointment ahead of them.
At Nemen, the demise of the space station was the first hint that the attack on Eden wasn’t just coming from the portal at Elengrad. But by the time the technicians manning the Defence Net had switched it on, it was already too late. The tiny Klysanthian flotilla had hidden in the debris strewn trail of the falling space station and was already under the Net and heading for the landing fields at Kalahar and Nemen.
Above Elengrad, the Defence Net briefly interrupted the bombardment of the city. Now at a much greater height, most of the Edenite ships hovered just below the level of the Net, but the sudden arrival of the invisible barrier caught one vessel that was too high. Huge sparks of lightening enveloped it and it exploded brightly. It dropped into the atmosphere like a blazing comet, the other ships scattering beneath it.
On the highway to Nemen, the Keruh Host ran at their relentless pace along both carriageways: Untiring, unstoppable. What had once been a busy artery with fast flowing traffic was now a scene of carnage. At first the cars and vehicles had swerved to avoid the onrushing army, but the Keruh fired at everything and everyone. Vehicles that had come to a halt were blasted from the roadway, their drivers shot or axed to death where they sat. More vehicles ploughed into others or into the Keruh Warriors themselves. It didn’t seem to matter. The Keruh just clambered over the wrecked cars and transports, their weight denting the metal. They fought their way along the highway as the traffic backed up before them. Any vehicles in their path were blasted aside, their occupants butchered. Soon the highway in front of them was jam-packed with abandoned vehicles, their occupants fleeing across the open land. With no buildings or other cover to protect them, many of the people were shot down as they ran. But the lack of cover along the length of the highway worked both ways, and it wasn’t long before the first military jets appeared.
The jets had twin engines with swept back delta wings. The tail-planes were an extension of the wings, joined together in a double row at the back. The cockpit housed two seats in tandem: the one at the front was for the pilot, at the back, navigator and weapons. They were painted earth and green above, sky blue below.
Ziti Harktus sat in the front seat of the leading jet. He flew low along the length of the highway. Behind him, to the left and right, were two more jets. And a short distance behind them came several more wings of three, each in the same tight delta formation. Harktus stared at the highway as it rushed rapidly beneath him. It was a constant unending jam of vehicles nose to tail. Some of the cars had spilled off the road, while many more were turning around and driving back. Some even drove along the edge of the highway on both sides, bouncing over the soft ground. And people were running everywhere. They fled from the jammed vehicles, running across the land or back up the highway. It was a complete panic, the images flashing beneath him in a constant stream.
“Sabatus! Demantha!” Harktus shouted into his face microphone. “Keep it tight! Fire on my mark!” He turned his head slightly. “Belomonor! Make sure you get this right!”
In the seat behind him, Belomonor concentrated on his bombsights. “Just keep her level and I’ll put a couple of rockets down their throats!”
Harktus gritted his teeth. He had faith in his bombardier and in the crews of the two jets in his wing, but it was the civilians on the highway he feared for. He kept his jet level and dropped down even lower. The long column of Warriors surged toward him, and just at the instant that the leaders shot by underneath him, the two rockets slung underneath his jet blasted away. A moment later and the jets of Sabatus and Demantha also fired.
The tight group of twin explosions engulfed the head of the column of Warriors from one side of the highway to the other. It was an eruption of burning vehicles, fire, concrete and earth that spread out in a huge ball of grey and black. And amongst the flying debris were the dismembered corpses of the Keruh, hurled high into the air.
Belomonor looked back at the carnage. “It’s like squashing bugs on a table top!”
A moment later and a bright beam of white light transfixed an engine on one of the jets flying alongside them. The engine burst apart and the jet immediately banked and dropped, a trail of fire and smoke trailing after it. It hit the ground a short distance away from the side of the highway, a bright orange blossom marking the impact.
Harktus pulled his jet into a steep climb. “Yeah! Bugs with laser rifles! Sabatus! Pull up! Let’s get out of here!”
As the first two jets flew back toward their base at Delmatra, those that followed them continued the attack. The jets came in wave after wave, their rockets causing multiple explosions among the packed column of Warriors that smashed and burned everything. Hundreds of the Keruh died in the attacks, but ten times more fired up at the low flying jets. Several more jets were hit, and each time a trail of smoke would follow the stricken craft as it spiralled slowly to ground, the explosion a distant thump. But the jets didn’t continue the strikes for long, and when the last of them finally flew away, it was to herald a far more deadly form of attack.
One by one, the large tubular shaped vessels of the Edenite Fleet began to appear in the distance, their great dorsal fins like a sail above them. Here their captains would face no dilemma, here there were no city buildings to consider and no civilians or ground forces that they could harm. One after another of the large vessels came floating toward the highway. They began firing as soon as they came within range, the Keruh Warriors
firing back at them. But most of the Host on the highway carried only the smaller laser rifles. Those who carried the larger and heavier weapons had been left behind to wreak havoc and destruction at Jutlam City. It had been a tactical decision, a decision that now brought unimaginable suffering.
The Edenite ships weathered the fusillade of laser blasts that peppered their hulls as they approached. In exchange, their maser cannons blew vast craters in and around the highway, throwing up earth and fractured concrete. The Keruh Warriors caught in each blast were smashed and hurled into the air. Closer and closer the ships came, until finally, they hovered over the highway, firing down again and again at the long column of Warriors that trudged along beneath them.
Hundreds, thousands, of the Keruh Host were blown to pieces, their dismembered bodies and limbs scattered over the land. But still more ran on, the survivors firing up at the ships above them even before the smoke and debris had settled from the last explosion. They clambered through each crater that blocked their way, stepping over the mutilated corpses of their fallen comrades, stumbling and bathed in their black blood. But even this one-sided slaughter was not to last.
Anaxilea looked at the viewing screen. It would be so simple, so easy. The Edenite ships were hovering low over the ground, shooting down at the black column that filled the highway beneath them. They were too close together; they would have no room to manoeuvre, and no time to react.
“I don’t want to do this,” she muttered.
Cassiopea looked across at her. “We have to. We have to allow the Keruh to secure their bridgehead. You know that, Anaxilea.”
Anaxilea stared at the pockmarked highway, at the ships above it that were already turning and climbing. She sat immobile in her command chair, only her long fingers curling and flexing as she remained silent, the commands that they all expected left unsaid.
At the helm sat another brown haired and brown eyed Klysanthian, her bronzed skin only slightly lighter than that of Anaxilea. Phoebe pointed at the screen excitedly, and when she spoke it was with the same roughened tones as Anaxilea.
“They’ve seen us! Bread of Angels has opened fire!”
One of the Edenite vessels was struck by several maser blasts and suddenly burst apart. It fell the short distance to the ground in a ball of flame.
Anaxilea closed her eyes. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she felt it was about to burst. She almost wished that it would burst, but there was no avoiding what she had to do. Her fingers curled around the arms of her command chair, gripping them tightly, and she gave in at last.
“Open fire.”
The six Klysanthian vessels flew in a wing formation, side by side. They swept down in a shallow arc over the surface of Eden, flying over a rich green countryside that was dotted with trees in colourful bloom. They rushed toward the highway, its concrete surface an artificial scar across the natural land, firing down at the ships below them. Several of the blasts missed their targets and hit the long column of Warriors on the highway, but many more found their mark. It was a devastating attack. Each and every one of the Edenite ships was caught in the barrage of fire and blown from the air. Two of them collided and fell to ground in a tangle of grinding metal and fire. Another of the stricken vessels fell across the highway, enveloping it in flame. More of the Host perished in a fiery death. But now the air above them was empty and the highway to Nemen was clear.
In the middle of the long column that stretched along the highway, splashed in the blood of his Warriors, surrounded by smoke and fire, the Dominant of the Belol’Fan looked up at the disappearing ships.
“They were Klysanthian,” he hissed and clicked.
“They have accepted the treaty,” the First of the Belol’Fan replied. “They have fired at the Edenites as you surmised. Should I give the command for the rest of the Host to enter?”
The Dominant looked around at the burning wrecks of the Edenite ships. He felt the heat on his carapace and the acrid smoke made breathing difficult. All around him were the dismembered bodies of the dead, some of them still burning. But the vast majority of his Warriors still trudged on.
“No. I have yet to be convinced of our enemy’s purposes here. They have attacked the Edenites but they did not dwell to continue the attack on our forces.”
“Maybe it is the Edenite ships at Kalahar and Nemen that are their goal? They could attack the landing fields and return before we have completed that same journey.”
“Then time will give us the answer. Urge the Host to more speed. We must leave this exposed terrain as soon as possible.”
Dione sat in her command chair on the bridge of the Bread of Angels. The first attack had gone well, but the element of surprise had given them the advantage. She hoped that same advantage would be with them at Kalahar and Nemen. She turned to her First Officer.
“It is time to split our forces, Lybia. Contact Scyleia on the Gate of Heaven. Tell her to make directly for Kalahar. We head for Nemen as planned.”
Lybia nodded and opened a communications channel to the Gate of Heaven. Behind her, Melousa sat at the Engineering station. She smiled when Dione caught her eye. Dione smiled back. She was glad that Melousa was here with her. It made her happy but sad. Just one more day, that was all she craved for. Just one more day to feel the beauty and warmth of another’s love.
The six Klysanthian vessels now separated. Two went with the Gate of Heaven toward Kalahar, while the Bread of Angels, Furnace of Charity and Star of Hope continued on to Nemen.
Anaxilea watched the three vessels bank away on her screen, the distance opening out quickly between them as they headed for their new destination. She wished them good fortune, the same good fortune she sought for herself and her crew. Attacking the landing fields would not be easy, both were heavily defended by maser batteries, and there could be vessels already in flight above them. Their only advantage was speed and surprise, and the latter was rapidly running out.
In only a few seconds they reached the city of Nemen. It swept beneath them as they flew on, a vision of elegant buildings in brown stone, and beyond the city the sprawling landing fields came into view. Mile upon mile of concrete landing pads, service docks and buildings were spread out before them. And everywhere there were ships. Some of them were in the service docks while others were out on the field, apparently ready to take off. Above the landing field two more ships climbed slowly upward. It was all just a fleeting image that lasted a moment before the maser batteries opened fire.
Anaxilea saw the multitude of orange beams flash toward her and felt the ship rock with the first hit. The whole ship began to vibrate and the din of the impacts was unbearable. Anaxilea shouted her orders, her roughened voice sounding even more cracked and harsh.
“Pea! Open fire on those ships on the ground! And don’t miss any of those arrays! Phoebe! When we get closer, aim for the higher of those two ships!”
Cassiopea looked up in surprise. “We’re supposed to concentrate on the ships and installations on the ground, not go looking for individual battles!” she shouted across the bridge, her voice still musical and delicate despite being raised.
“And leave those ships to shoot down at us from above?” Anaxilea shouted back hoarsely. “Not while my skin is whole! Phoebe! As soon as we reach that ship, give me ramming speed!”
In arrow formation, the three Klysanthian vessels flew over the landing field at Nemen firing down at the parked ships. Their maser cannons scored hit after hit, causing the ships on the ground to burst into flame. Many buildings and service docks, warehouses, communication arrays and refuelling facilities were also hit. They also burst into flame, the buildings collapsing. But the accuracy of the gunners wasn’t limited to just those on the attack.
Leading the arrow formation, the Bread of Angels took the brunt of the fire from the maser batteries. She continued to fire back as hit after hit rocked her, until finally her tortured hull could take it no more. A maser blast penetrat
ed the wall of the main hull and tore through the bridge. Dione threw up her hands and screamed as the flames engulfed her. The resulting explosion burst the hull apart and the ship twisted in the air, dove down, and hit the concrete with a crunching impact. The speed of the crash caused the ship to flip over, and in a ball of flame and trailing smashed metal it began to cartwheel end over end along the concrete, ploughing into other ships and smashing them apart until it finally came to rest in a cloud of black smoke.
Cassiopea watched the crash and gasped in horror. “Melousa...”
Anaxilea shouted at her even louder. “Concentrate! Keep firing! Phoebe! I want that ship!”
The Furnace of Charity and Star of Hope continued their flight across the landing field. They fired down at the ships on the ground while the maser batteries continued to score hit after hit against their hulls. The two Edenite vessels that had already taken off now turned toward them and also opened fire. They were now very close, and it seemed as though the Klysanthian ships would fly beneath them, but at the last instant, the Furnace of Charity rose up and accelerated. She flew between the two Edenite vessels, and the large serrated fin above her third hull ploughed through the underside of the uppermost ship in an explosion of orange flame. It was a mortal blow and the ship shuddered under the impact, and then fell, nose first to the concrete below. It hit the ground with an enormous explosion.
Seconds later and the Furnace of Charity and Star of Hope flew beyond the limits of the landing field. Instantly there was silence as all firing stopped.
Anaxilea didn’t stop shouting her orders.
“Good! Phoebe! Bring us about! We go again! Pea! Contact the Star of Hope! Tell Eurybe that other ship is hers!”
The two ships swept around in a long arc, ascending as they turned. When the turn was completed, and they were heading back toward the landing field, they dove down once more, and the orange beams of the maser batteries flashed out to greet them.
War brings out the best for the worst of reasons. Above the burning concrete of the landing fields at Nemen, two colourful tri-marine ships flew through a barrage of maser blasts, the impacts blowing fiery holes in the metal of their hulls. They fired down relentlessly at the ships stranded on the concrete below them, causing more of them to blossom with flame and others previously hit to explode brightly. They came again upon the lone surviving Edenite vessel in flight. This time it flew toward them, firing all the time. The Star of Hope rose to meet it, and in the turmoil of the criss-crossing beams of the maser batteries, both vessels collided head on in an enormous explosion.
The Furnace of Charity flew the rest of the length of the landing field alone, all the maser batteries fixed on her hull. The ship rocked and twisted under the impacts, still firing even though smoke now poured from the right hand hull. An explosion in the main hull signalled the end of her resistance and the ship shuddered violently, flying lower and lower, her maser cannons finally silenced and smoke trailing behind her.
The maser batteries continued to fire at their tortured victim, scoring more hits, and causing fiery explosions within the ship’s hull that added to the black smoke that trailed behind her. But still the burning ship wouldn’t fall. Finally, the ship flew beyond the limits of the landing field, beyond the reach of the now silent maser batteries. But their deadly work had already been done.
Anaxilea coughed and spluttered. She had been thrown from her command chair and somewhere on the bridge there was a fire. Smoke stung her eyes and obscured her vision. Alarms were going off and she could hear Cassiopea and other members of her crew shouting to one another as they fought the fire nearby. She climbed to her feet and stumbled toward the helm. The floor seemed to be tilted beneath her.
“Phoebe!” she called hoarsely, coughing again. “Keep us in the air! We have to clear the city!”
When Anaxilea reached Phoebe, it was to find her fighting furiously with the helm controls, a look of desperation in her eyes.
“The Charity’s going down, Lea! I can’t stop her!”
Anaxilea grabbed the controls with her. “We can’t drop on the city! We can’t! I won’t allow it!”
An evacuation was underway in the city of Nemen, and in full view of its shocked citizens, a burning comet flew overhead. It flew dangerously low over the buildings, a huge trail of black smoke behind it. It flew so low that it passed between two of the taller buildings in the city without touching either. It got lower and lower as it went, until finally, just beyond the city limits, it disappeared from view.
The Dominant of the Belol’Fan watched the smoke trail cross the highway ahead of them. He continued to watch it as he ran. It was very low, and it seemed to travel so slowly, getting lower and lower all the time. Finally the trail of smoke came to an abrupt end beyond the hills to the west.
The Dominant signalled the First to approach.
“Your wisdom has been proved correct. The Klysanthians have attacked the landing fields.”
The First swept his hand before him. “Your praise is appreciated, but the destruction of the Edenite Fleet was the more strategic target.”
“It is also evidence of their true intent. The battle for Eden will be fought in space. Signal the Host to enter. Begin the Gathering.”
The sound of heavy artillery fire rent the afternoon air above Jutlam City. Laser weapons answered in reply. Smoke filled the air as fires burned unchecked all over the city.
At the Tun-Sho-Lok Embassy, Didi Albatus stood by a broken window and stared out at the Keruh Warriors that were in the street. A sound in the air distracted him from the scene and he looked up. There was a tubular shaped vessel hovering low over the city. It had stubby little wings at the tail and a glass front. Above it was a long serrated fin. It came slowly into view over the Embassy.
“What is it, Didi?” Gusta called out from behind him.
“It’s a ship! One of ours!” Didi replied.
As he spoke, the Keruh Warriors fired up at the ship, the blasts from their rifles leaving pockmarks on the underneath of the hull. The ship fired down, the blast from its maser cannons far more powerful. The Keruh Warriors disappeared in the large explosion, and when the dust settled only a crater in the street where they had stood was visible.
Didi made a fist. “Got ‘em!” he exclaimed. “Go on, lads! Give ‘em hell!”
The ship moved on, firing down at other targets. Didi could only see the smoke and fire from the resulting explosions. He leaned through the window for a better view, but Gusta quickly pulled him back in and away from the window.
“What are you doing?” she almost shouted at him in her fear. “Do you want to get killed?”
Didi put his arms around her and hugged her. “It’s alright, my sweet. That ship blew the Keruh to pieces. We should go now, before anymore come to investigate.”
Gusta knew that he was right. The Tun-Sho-Lok Embassy would not be a good place to hide from the Keruh. And they had already stayed too long. At first it was to listen to the shocked newscasters and see the ghastly pictures of what happened in the square. And then it was to gather provisions in a mad panic, trying to think what would be important and what wouldn’t be in this situation. And then the Keruh had appeared outside. And during all of this, Gusta was feeling guilty. Guilty because she was here, safe, while all those others were dying. And guilty because all she really cared about while her world was collapsing around her was finding her children.
Even before the fighting had started that afternoon, Gusta had been worried about Breda and Tipi. She always worried about them, even at the best of times. But this wasn’t the best of times. And as soon as she and Didi had made their decision to leave the city that evening, she had called Breda to tell her. Breda hadn’t been surprised by the idea, it was almost as if she had expected it. But she had been reluctant to leave without Kiki. That didn’t surprise Gusta. Breda and Kiki had been seeing each other for two years now, and Gusta hoped it was the real thing for her daughter. B
ut that didn’t stop them arguing. Why did they always argue? It seemed like every decision turned into a debate these days, and every debate into an argument. They had finished the call on angry words. And then the slaughter had begun in the square and Breda’s communicator didn’t respond anymore.
Gusta buried her head in Didi’s shoulder. She was scared, and she didn’t mind admitting it.
“I know we have to go. I want to find Tipi and Breda. I’m worried to death about them, but I’m frightened, Didi. I’m frightened that we will bump into the Keruh in the street. The newscasts were terrible. You heard what they said before they were cut off. They said the Keruh were killing everybody.” She looked up at him tearfully, but her words were angry. “I wish we had gone earlier! I wish we were all together and safe! We should have known this was going to happen! We work in the Tun-Sho-Lok Embassy and even we were too stupid to see the signs! I was too stupid!” She clenched her fists and struck at no one in particular. “Oh, I hate myself!”
Didi squeezed her tightly. “Now, now! There’s no use fretting over what we should have done! What we have to do now is find our children. I know you’re scared, and quite rightly, too. But Breda and Tipi must be even more scared, and the sooner we find them both, the better.”
Gusta nodded, stepping back from him. “Yes,” she said, wiping away her tears. “Breda was in the City. We’ll go that way first, and then head out toward the College.”
“Good girl! Have you got the medical kit, clothes and the blankets?”
She nodded again, holding up the packed holdall. “And the torches, matches and candles.”
Didi shouldered his bag. “Good! And I’ve got enough food in my bag to feed us for a week! Come on!”
They held hands and stepped through the broken window, running low and swiftly through the gardens. In a moment they had disappeared.
All was silence in the Embassy, but not for long.
In the drawing room, the portal projectors glowed into life. Colours filled the centre circle of the ceiling, and the grey mist began to swirl. In a few seconds the scene changed and the circular pad of polished white stone appeared once more. Intense sunlight filled the room.
Sunshine, warmth, white stone, and a man.
Li-Sen-Tot stepped off the stone pad and the scene behind him vanished. He walked swiftly from the drawing room and found the windows broken in the hallway outside. He paused and looked down at the broken glass on the carpet, crushing a piece under his shoe. It seemed that he had come home just in time.
The Friendly Ambassador: The Beginning of the End Page 7