WARP world (65 page)

Seg’s back was against a chunk of stone that had once adorned the bell tower of the temple and now lay among the rubble. His breaths were shallow, dictated by the pain from his broken ribs. Beside him, Fismar reloaded his weapon.

“Squad Leader Coultrey’s dead,” Fismar said.

“Who does that leave us that’s qualified to lead the troops here?” he asked.

“You, sir. And, well, me.” Fismar fidgeted with the cap of his canteen.

“You can lead these men?” Seg stared at him intently. Fismar swallowed and nodded. “Then you’re in command of the troops. How much longer can we hold out?”

“We could maybe throw back one more big push. Then we’ll be totally dry on ammo and down to blades.”

“Then we show the Welf that the People are comfortable with steel as well.”

Ama scanned for her fellow Kenda, distressed to see how few remained. She stepped past Captain Tather’s body, touched her hand to her heart, then her forehead, and wished him a safe journey back to Nen. As she stared down at her dead dockmate, she wondered about her father’s fate.

Her people were not the only ones to have fallen at Welf hands. Seg’s invasion force had dwindled as well, many of the survivors wounded, all tired.

One piece of good fortune was the sight of her brother, Thuy, still very much alive. He rested with Brin against a pile of rubble that was once a stone pillar.

Ama took a quick look around; Seg had Fismar with him and they were enjoying a momentary break from the horror. At a half jog, half limp, she hurried to Thuy and Brin and flopped down on the rubble next to them. She set her bloody seft beside her feet.

“I wish I had one of those magic talkers to call the rest of my men,” Brin huffed and armed the sweat from his brow.

“No such thing as magic, cousin,” she chided.

“Too bad, we could use some about now.”

“We’re never getting out of here,” Thuy said, as he wrapped an ersatz bandage, torn from his clothing, around a jagged slash on his arm. “But it’s worth it? Isn’t it?” Thuy looked from Brin to Ama.

“Freedom is always worth it,” Ama answered. She pulled the canteen off her waist, took a sip and passed the rest to Brin while she helped Thuy cover his wound.

“Your father would be proud of you,” Brin lowered his eyes to Ama’s blood and dirt-specked dathe, “Kiera Nen.”

She felt a large knot in her throat and looked past Brin, to no point in particular. “I have to get back to Seg. You two stay alive.”

Brin grabbed her wrist as she stood, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and released her.

“Stay alive,” she repeated and tried to smile, “we’ll talk when this is done.”

Thanks to the darkness, the Welf attacks had thinned and finally stopped altogether. The troops rested but none slept; Seg kept close to Fismar and Shan, the three of them silent as they waited for dawn.

Shan pulled out the sensor array and swept the area once more.

“Any sign of the Welf?” Seg asked.

She shook her head. “They’re holding, for now. Think we’ve convinced them we’re too unpleasant to deal with?”

“More likely they’re unwilling to risk facing our weapons in the dark. Though they won’t have that particular concern to deal with very shortly,” Seg answered.

“Y’know, Shan,” Fismar grunted as he shifted his body and his broken leg bumped against the rubble, “now would be a good time to find out that a former lover of yours is flying one of the gunships on this mission, and that he’s been looking for a way back into your life.”

Shan glanced back at him, her face lit by the faint glow of the array screen, her soft snickers breaking down into harsh laughter. Fismar grinned broadly, and even Seg allowed a smile at that one.

Fismar tore open a ration bar, leaned against the wall and chewed on the rough substance. “Guess it’s okay to talk about now, since we’re probably not getting out of here.”

Shan rolled her eyes. “Oh Storm, not a battlefield confessional.”

“Well, this one is good. And it’s not that I’ve been staring at your ass this whole time,” Fismar said.

“You haven’t?” Shan manufactured a disappointed expression.

“Only when you were in front of me,” Fismar admitted. “Anyway, barring certain political difficulties, I would’ve been in charge here, probably. I graduated from Holiseff Academy, third in my class. Had the twin pips, life was good.”

“You were a captain?”

Fismar nodded.

“And then?” Seg asked.

“And then things went sideways on the Sikkora raid. Young Master Parth, may he rot in some misbegotten Outer hell, he walked his troops into an ambush. Of course, because I was his minder, I took the blame when he came back shy most of his face and lower appendages.”

“Lower appendages?” Shan asked, indicating her groin with her eyes.

“Yep,” Fismar said.

“Ouch!”

“And you’re only bringing this up now?” Seg asked. “Why didn’t you mention your leadership qualifications when we first got here?”

“Coultrey was doing fine. Didn’t need some outsider messing around in her command. Besides, I’m just a trooper like the rest of these slobs now.” He waved his half eaten ration bar in the direction of the scattered survivors.

“Anything else I need to know about?” Seg asked.

“Nah, that’s about it.” Fismar bit off another chunk of ration bar. “Hope you’ve made your peace with life,” he said with his mouth full.

Seg smirked, stood and walked off, shining a dull amp light to guide his path. He stepped around a large piece of rubble then turned back and shone the light on it. A chiseled face stared up at him; Seg paused for a moment to stare back. The statue of the Shasir priest that had once stood at the entrance to the interior of the temple now lay on the ground, one arm missing, one pointing off to nowhere, the lower half of the body was shattered and the many offerings that had been left at the base were now buried under piles of stone.
You never imagined this would be your fate, did you?
Seg thought as he stared at the fallen idol. Then he looked up, took in a pained breath and tasted the dust and decay in the air.

A slender silhouette walked in his direction, with a distinct limp. He knew it was Ama long before he was close enough to see her face. He also realized that, even without the limp, he would have known who it was. Everything about her body was as familiar to him now as his own–a fact that both intrigued and bothered him in some indefinable way.

“There aren’t many Kenda left,” she told Seg, as soon as he was close enough to hear, “but they’ll fight to the end.” She leaned on her seft. “As will I,” she added, then once again stared off to some unknown point in the distance. “There are no skyships coming for us, are there?”

“Ama…” he reached a hand to her, then stopped and let it drop.

“At least I’m fighting now and not hiding,” she said, rallying a smile. “The freedom of my people, that’s worth dying for.”

He grasped her shoulders, seized by sudden conviction. “We’re not going to die here.”

How he knew this, he couldn’t say. Just a feeling that his end couldn’t come in the dark at the hands of primitive Outers throwing sticks and rocks. He glanced back at the broken statue.

By the Storm, he was going to seize his own destiny. Now.

Seg stepped up to the rampart. Ama watched him as she drifted toward Shan and Fismar. Shan twisted around, to watch Seg, as well. “What the karg?”

“Gone Storm-driven,” Fismar said, with a shrug. “He goes before the rest of us.” He washed down the last of his ration bar with a swallow of water, then turned the canteen upside down. “At least we won’t last long enough to recycle our urine. Best get your gun ready. Those Welf Outers will be coming once they hear him start in on his glorious speech.”

Seg sparked a full cassette of needle rounds into the sky, where they flared and burned out dramatically.

“CHILDREN OF THE SOIL!” he bellowed. “This is the judgment of the true
Lords of the Sky
! The Shasir have led you false, and now the demons come to stalk you! Every soul sent against us travels with the O’scuri to the Underneath!”

He threw the needler down at his feet. “You stand against your
true masters
at the risk of your own souls! Where are your so-called Sky Fathers? Where are the Shasir? Their temples burn, their women lament! They are false!”

“Fis—” Shan whispered.

“Shut up, I don’t want to miss him getting his head shot off,” Fismar said.

Ama glanced over in Shan’s direction.

“Fis, you need to look at this,” Shan said.

“We have tested you in battle and found you worthy, Children of the Soil! Leave now and we will spare your shattered remnants!” Seg shouted and spread his arms wide. Welf emerged from the darkness to look up at the madman who loomed above them. Thus far none had made a move to attack. Yet.

“Alright!” Fismar shifted himself upright. “He’s lured them out into the open. Best shot we’re going to get to take another bunch with us.” He tapped the main frequency to all the surviving troops. “Ready volley fire on my command.”

“FIS!” Shan shouted. Just then, the first gunship crested the back end of the temple, running hot and silent. The searchlight stabbed out and shifted back and forth before it centered directly on Seg’s back. His long shadow loomed out in front of him, stretching over the crowd like an otherworldly creature.

“BEHOLD!” Seg yelled, “The gods return!”

Fismar looked up at the gunship. “Could’ve done with that a couple of hours ago,” he said and slumped against the wall.

Ama dropped to her knees, relieved not awed. When Seg had launched into his speech, she thought they were all dead. He couldn’t have known his skyship would arrive at such a perfect juncture, could he?

Giddy from exhaustion, she laughed uncontrollably. This man, so stoic and reserved most of the time, sure had his crazy moments.

The craft lowered in a hail of noise, the engines blew a swirl of debris and dust into the air.

The Welf remained as still and silent as the rubble that lay around them. They would not fight, their eyes filling with the sight of these new gods.

“Move it! Everyone!” Fismar yelled as the first craft touched down and the large door at the stern dropped onto the rubble.

Ama clamored to her feet, then sought out Thuy and Brin. She found them wide-eyed and awestruck. “Get your men inside the craft, Brin!” she yelled as forcefully as she could. “There’s nothing to fear. Go! Thuy, come with me.”

Seg’s people were already scrambling to the safety of the gunships, dragging the wounded along with them. Ama hobbled to the entrance with her brother, waved the rest of the Kenda along and helped them inside. Seg came in last; Ama limped up beside him, then limped back to the entrance and knocked twice on the ‘hull’ of the craft just before the door closed and they shot off into the sky.

“Crazy drexla,” she pressed her mouth close to Seg’s ear, then turned away.

“I told you, I never fail,” Seg shouted, over the engine noise, curling around his aching side as he did. “We’ve got the gunship, now we’ll go get our troops.”

They were packed in tight and Seg had to make his way forward through the press of bodies to reach the pilot.

“Set down at these coordinates,” Seg passed the pilot a digifilm, “I’ll be disembarking there briefly with some of the others.”

“You’re kidding,” the pilot turned his head away from the console for a brief moment to give Seg an angry stare, “this entire mission was about extracting you.”

“It will be a short diversion. I’ve got free agency on this. I won’t be going back with the invasion force just yet.”

On his way back through the mess of troopers and Kenda, he stopped in front of Fismar and Shan. “I could use your services for a short while longer. I will compensate you for the trouble and,” he looked to Fismar’s injured leg, “your discomfort.”

“Storm take me,” Fismar said, “I’d come along just to see what insane stunt you pull next. Count me in.”

Shan sighed, “Sure. Guess I can’t let the limper get all the glory.”

T
he gunships touched down on a grassy field not far from the Alisir docks. The sun, crawling back up the sky, painted the field orange, and distant columns of smoke marked the end of the Welf temple.

The doors opened and the remaining Kenda survivors limped out, except for Ama. Seg paused to speak with Brin, then pushed his way up to the cockpit.

“Right,” Seg said, as he leaned on the back of the pilot’s seat. “Now, we’re taking on a contingent of Outers, and we’re moving to a new destination. I’ll get you the coordinates in a moment.”

The pilot whipped his head around and flipped up his visor, “That’s a negative, Theorist. I’m already facing discipline for contradicting a direct order–from the House Marshal himself. The only place I’m taking this rider is back to the main warp gate in Zone 1.”

Seg considered this, then jerked his head toward the lower compartment. “Then get on the other rider and return with the others.” He pivoted in place, “Shan!”

“What? You can’t—” before the pilot could finish, he was interrupted by Shan’s arrival.