Space Knights- Last on the Line

by Emerson Fortier

  She laughed quietly and her hand found the lie through his jumpsuit, then left him alone. “Yessah.” She said in a mocking tone. “Yer honor.”

  It felt like pain. An analogue of anguish, he thought wryly. An obedience to primes, but he could break them, as the AI had said. He could choose between obedience and disobedience, right and wrong, virtue and vice, good and evil. Evil didn’t seem half so bad when it felt like Lisa or Kyra, but Eve’s fig had probably looked pretty good too when the serpent whispered that it might taste good. “Lord give me strength.” He whispered. He didn’t want to violate his soul before he’d even finished his penance.

  It was a long time until the adrenaline in his blood settled and he was able to close his eyes, a long time until he could banish his thoughts of what might have been, might still be, if he said something, but by then she was asleep, thank God, and it really, wasn’t, what he wanted, no matter how his body reacted. “Do the hard thing.” He whispered. “Do the hard thing.” It was amusing somehow, it didn’t have to mean what he really meant by it. Eventually sleep came over him like a warm bath.

  He was running in his dreams this time, running as he’d run for ten seconds with Argo at the controls, his legs an out of control whirl, his blood hot and heavy as it ran through his heart and limbs. Grass and stones whipped by, and then trees, and soldiers, and Lisa, sat on a rock in the night, shirtless and beautiful, lit by the stars while the waterfall ran behind her. “Don’t forget me.” She said in the saddest voice he’d ever heard. “Don’t forget me.” Then she was gone and he was still running, confused now as his body ran and the pampas stretched before him,an immovable wasteland of grass that sang their mournful song about the wind. He heard Kyra. “We’ll make a great team.” Echoing, echoing. “We’ll make a great team, we’ll make a great team, we’ll make a great team.” There were flashes of light in the distance and a black wave that ran out of another camp nearby congealing and rising until it towered over him in the black figure of a man, a man with a long sword that snapped to light with a flash like lightning, and in the flash he could see Ephesus standing just beneath the figure, looking towards Moses, unaware of the blade about to disembowel him.

  “Wake up!’ Her voice was insistent and Moses tripped, fell, woke with a start. This time Kyra was standing over him in her armor, helm at her side, outlined by the stars. “They’re on the move.” She hissed.

  The dream dissipated and Moses scrambled up and into his suit of armor. “What’s going on?” He asked Argo.

  “The enemy camp is on the march.” Argo said. “You have been ordered to form squads, join your platoon, and follow.”

  “Get your team.” He told Kyra. “Then find me.” She disappeared into the army of men milling around and climbing into their armor.

  “You will want to take your ground pad with you.” Argo said. “You won’t be coming back here.”

  Moses bent and rolled up the sleeping pad, pausing to roll up Kyra’s as well, tucking them each under his arm pits as he left the sleeping area at a jog. He was stiff from sleep, muscles that had only ached before had hardened into knots which felt like pure balls of fire as they stretched and bent in his jog, bad enough in some places to make him limp. Argo directed him to the column forming near the tents collapsing on themselves. Folds of cloth dragged themselves up into the belly of the drones that had supported the whole structure while the staff sergeants scurried to pack up the armory shelves and racks of equipment that reconfigured themselves into a mobile design. Flags waved all along the column, battalion commanders the most visible astride their pack masters, followed by sergeants with shimmering red flags like his own strung out behind them. He found the Lieutenant Colonel astride his automata and he took up his position behind him.

  “Where is your squad Smokoska?” Fyker asked him. The lieutenant colonel still wore the same hat and monocle, his helmet on the saddle horn in front of him.

  “On their way sir.”

  “Next time bring them with you.” The officer looked back to the front as the scene across the pampas momentarily took everyone’s attention.

  The camp no longer hid beneath a dome. The dome had descended and elongated while Moses and the Marainese army slept. Now it moved across the pampas like a huge centipede on hundreds of legs made up of the enemy’s soldiers, automata, and vehicles. Aircraft shot across the sky above, huge glowing spheres that zigged and zagged in jagged lines as they battled at speeds too great for Moses to follow.

  Something dropped out of the sky, a bright light, different from the others, and detonated against the shield, a brilliant ball of fire and sheer white blinding light. Moses’ view went dark for a moment as his helmet reacted, but in the glare he could see the enemy’s shield shrug off the explosion like it was little more than rain while the Pampas blew away around its edges. The enemy army marched on, unperturbed by the awesome power unleashed outside their shield.

  “Where are they going?” Someone asked.

  “To hell!” Another replied. There was general laughter.

  “We’re moving out.” Came through the Moses’ helmet. From the way everyone turned their heads, he guessed it had been piped into their helms as well. The shield projection drones dropped above them to form a tube similar to the one the Kamele were traveling under across the pampas and the Lieutenant Colonel’s mount took off at a trot that forced the men behind to follow at a run. Moses saw Kyra fall in behind him with the rest of the knights, followed a few minutes later by Staycoffe. “Where we going?” Kyra asked Moses through the suit mic. Moses only shook his head in answer.

  They jogged for what felt like hours while aircraft continued their dance and fire above. A few more rockets lit up the pampas as they struck the enemy camp and a few times shots from the enemy artillery crossed the darkness to bounce off of the lowered canopy of the traveling shield and detonate in the grass to either side. “Do you think we’ll just march into them?” someone asked. “We’re going south.” Another voice replied. “Field commander doesn’t want to risk a battle if he doesn’t have to. Just stayin between him and the mountains.” A band of automata galloped past close to the edge of the shield and Moses spotted a few figures sitting astride the sprinting shadows. Ephesus would be among them, already part of the fight Moses had yet to join. The officer at the head of the column picked up the pace and Moses had to push to keep up. When he began to slacken the suit maintained pace, and Moses found that if he ignored his pumping legs he could half doze while the suit followed the rest of the column.

  “You have a problem if I fall asleep on you?” He asked the suit.

  “I will keep you in position in the column.” The AI replied.

  “Alright.” It didn’t take long for Moses to fall asleep. This time his dreams were kept at bay by the drumming of his own legs.

  Chapter 18: Moses // First Shots

  When the column came to a stop Moses jerked awake inside the suit. When it didn’t yield to the sudden movement claustrophobia hit him the way cold water might have and he tried to tear himself from the armor. The arms moved this time and he stumbled, catching himself as the claustrophobia diminished.

  “What’s going on?” He asked.

  “The enemy column has halted.” Argo replied.

  “What’d they do that for?” He was still groggy from the half doze. He would have rubbed his eyes if he could reach them, they felt crusty.

  “They have come to a town.”

  That got Moses’ attention. He peered past the column across the pampas and could vaguely make out the shimmer of the enemy’s shield on the horizon perched over what looked like a sizable town rising from the song grass. It was visible in the darkness as little more than blocky spots of shadow and a few lights shining from windows. It wasn’t until Moses removed his helm in order to wipe the crust from his eyes and try to get a better look that he realized the stars were fading into a sky sapped of its midnight black by the approaching dawn.

  “It’s morning.” He sa
id stupidly.

  “Good morning to you too.” Kyra said behind him.

  Moses turned. “You been awake this whole time?” He asked.

  “Of course.”

  Ahead of them the Lieutenant Colonel wheeled away from the column to face the troops. “We’re stopping here boys. Make camp. I want you bunked down by squad. If you’re a soldier find your officers, if you’re an officer sleep with your men. By squad, is that understood? Get what sleep you can. Grub will be along shortly. High command is itching for a fight, so I expect we’ll be on the field pretty soon. Don’t worry about your training schedule. If the fights to be soon I want you boys rested more than I want you trained. Train on your own time if you need to, but get some sleep first. Stay in the confines of the shield. That’s it. Fall out. If you have questions you’ll find me here for the next twenty minutes, after which I’m up to high command.”

  The column fell to pieces. Moses looked behind him and saw other officers giving similar orders to their men. He could just make out his own squad stretching out behind him, Marloque and Pete Small distinctive amongst the mass of otherwise anonymous knights and squires.

  “Let’s find a place to sleep.” Moses said. He waved for them to follow him and they left the column.

  He’d thought, when they left, to look for a flat spot of land, but as it turned out this section of the pampas was overgrown by a species of fern that sprouted from low hummocks and spread their leaves in low arches across the grass. The hummocks eliminated any flatness they might have found,so in the end, they bunked down at the first open space they found between the other platoons and made do with what ditches or mats of grass they could find between the lumps of fern sprouts. When Moses dismounted from his armor it remained standing, two flags upraised like a territorial marker while Moses unrolled his mat across the widest indentation he could find beneath the ferns. As before, Kyra unrolled her mat next to his and crawled up to him until she could lay her head on his chest. This time Moses fell asleep before she could say anything, just as the first light of dawn was beginning its march across the sky.

  Sunlight found his eyelids a few hours later and woke him. He sat up and for a moment was disoriented by the blue sky and the ferns spread around him until he saw the suit of armor still at the center of his squad, its red flags brilliant in the morning light. He found the sun and was surprised to discover that it was still early morning. At some point while he slept Kyra had rolled away from him and still slept in a small hollow of the ferns shadowed from the rising sun. He felt cheated, as though he hadn’t received the sleep he deserved after the long march, but when he lay back down and tried to sleep he only tossed and turned on the uncomfortable mat and eventually stood to brush himself off.

  Across the pampas, everything was deathly quiet. He could see the bubble of the enemy’s shield still, a light shimmer in the morning sunlight that covered the town. In daylight he could make out the one and two story steel frame houses and low dirt and grass buildings clustered together at the center of a patchwork of cultivated fields. It was a pretty town, subtly different from carmichael in the style of the buildings which were taller and made from some brown material rather than the cordwood and stone he was used to. He wondered if it was Eden, Kyra’s home. He couldn’t see a steeple anywhere.

  On a low rise to his left he saw Staycoffe out of his armor and scoping down his rifle at the town and he rose to join him.

  “See anything?” Moses asked when he reached the older man.

  Out of his suit Daniel Staycoffe looked, emaciated, like he’d been left in the sun too long and dried up somewhere along the way. His skin seemed too big for him particularly around his neck and hands where he looked like little more than a mass or wrinkles.

  “Oh, yer honor, you oughta be asleep.” Staycoffe said without taking his eye from the weapon’s scope.

  “I slept on the march.”

  “Mmm.” Staycoffe grunted. The two of them looked out at the town for some time, listening to the wind in the ferns, noting the dark smudges that Moses could vaguely make out moving amongst the buildings.

  “Band of cavalry shot past here only ten minutes ago.” Staycoffe said. “There been flashes of light off by the edges of the camp, round to the back of the town, and a lot of aircraft only an hour or so ago. Less now.”

  “Anymore rocket strikes?”

  “No. Not as I was aware of least ways. Though i nodded off for round about the time the sun poked its nose up over them hills. Don’t need much these days, but a little makes a man feel braver.”

  “How old are you?” Moses asked, reminded suddenly by the wrinkles on the man’s hands of just how much of an age difference there might be between them.

  “To count the years, I’d have to know the day, yer honor.” He replied. “Mebbe, thirty? Forty? Who can say. Long enough to have lived, short enough to still fear dyin.”

  “Death’s not something to be afraid of.” Moses said after they’d listened to the ferns for a moment.

  “Then yer a better man than I.” Staycoffe replied.

  “It’s not that.” Moses replied. “I’m more afraid of… not, being, brave enough, I guess.”

  Staycoffe grunted and shifted the barrel of the rifle to something else in his field of view. “Yer a young man.” He said after a while. “Courage ain’t something I’m wanting no more. I know I got it. Done plenty of courageous things in my life. Jest lookin for a bit of comfort. Wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault I got stuck here I tell ye. Wasn’t my fault.” The hands holding the gun began to quiver until Staycoffe leaned over and blew his nose into his shoulder. “No use cryin over a chipped plate I guess, but I do wish I’d never drunk so much of that sweet wine. Sweet sweet wine, from the very top of the world, they said. Gave it to me free, on the house, seein as what a good customer I was, and putting me with Jenny like I was king of the world. Doesn’t seem right I’d have beaten her life outta her. Doesn’t seem right, me haven to die like this.” He shook and then became still. He pulled his eyes away from the gunsight and wiped at them with the neck of his shirt. “I’m sorry yer honor.” He said, putting his face back to the gunsight. “I shouldn’t talk like that. Gonna have boys to kill soon. Men.”

  “I’ve never killed a man.”Moses said. He felt uneasy now that the prospect was before him. The march made it feel more immediate, the possibility of battle seemed closer. “You said you’d been deputized before. Have you ever… fought?”

  “Yes sir, yer honor.” Staycoffe said with sudden enthusiasm. “The man in the ring hotel. You ever heard the tale? It was I who shot through the windows while the constable cut through the door with an axe. Had a corporate type in there he did, a dynasty boy, someone’s son, or daughter, I never did find out. Penned up inside a closet he was, where he couldn’t get out. Shot back a bit. Saw a bullet put a hole this big in the wall I was hid behind.” He held up his hand, making a hole and peering through it at Moses just big enough to fit a thumb through. “Time the officer busted down the door course, the man was gone, but we got the executive types kid back. So they said anyways, when they was giving me the sweet wine.”

  “You didn’t kill anyone though.”

  “Not to my knowledge, no. Everything was all made real quiet like afterwards, we wasn’t allowed to go up, but I’d swear, I got a man right between the eyes.” He put his thumb to the bridge of his nose and studied Moses through eyes lined up like spotlights. “Right there. Saw the blood and everything.” He settled back to his rifle. “Never did see none of them folks again. Heard most of em had died when I was leavin. Hoped one or two might join up with me, but I never saw any of them again. Shows how old a man gets, without even noticin. I’ve got a daughter thats, oh, twenty seven years now. Has some kids of her own on some homestead off the river.” He shrugged. “Hope grub gets here soon.”

  “Yes.” Moses looked around, across the mess of sleeping men hidden in hummocks beneath other flags bearing different numbers from his own. He could he
ar a murmur of voices and see other shadowy men pacing in the distance. “I’ll go look into it.” He added after a pause. “Anyone wakes up tell them to stay here.”

  “As ye say yer honor.”

  Moses left to drift amongst the sleeping figures towards the reconfigured tents that now stood once more in the center of the broad dome of the shield. He was returning with a bowl of oatmeal for himself and Staycoffe when a button in his shirt collar warbled at him. “We have been called to combat stations.” The voice was argo’s. He lifted the bowls higher and began to sprint. He hoped this time it would be for real.

  At the squad he found the rest of the soldier’s rousing themselves and clambering into their armor. Some of them flexed armored arms, and unlimbered as they stood around. One of the heavies lifted his long gun onto the armor’s shoulder hoist. When Argo spotted him coming the headless suit of armor jogged towards him and opened its chest and legs for Moses to climb in. The arms attempted to close around the hands still holding the bowls of oatmeal and he had to juggle them awkwardly into one hand, then the other along with his helm while the suit locked around him. “Where’s Staycoffe?” he asked. The suit used his own arm to point and Moses jogged over to him and shoved the bowl of oatmeal at him.

  “Here.” He said. “Eat.”

  “Ooh, I’m not hungry yer honor. Give it to someone else.” Staycoffe sounded queasy through the helmet he’d donned with the rest of his armor.

  Moses debated pushing, but Kyra called to him then and he turned to her.

  “What’s going on?” She asked.

  “Combat stations.” Moses said. He handed her the bowl of oatmeal. “Here.”

  She accepted the oatmeal with a grin. “Gee thanks sarge.”