Weapons of War (14 page)

"Yes. Whatever you heard, it's wrong. The resistance isn't over."

"There were rumors someone had gotten their hands on Dread weapons, and that they were killing the bastards. I guess that's you." She smiled. "It may be too little, too late, I'm afraid."

"We're not going to let it be. Do you know where the rest of your people are?"

"That way," she said, pointing in the same direction as Diaz. "We had a few guns; maybe we'll take some of the clones with us. We can't do anything about the others, though."

"Others? Did you see the Dread?"

"I saw one. He killed my husband. He went that way."

"You might be safest to stay here for a while."

"What's your name, son?"

"Major Donovan Peters, ma'am."

"I'll pray for you, Major Peters. For as much time as I have left on this Earth. God bless you."

Donovan nodded, breaking off to join Ehri. She was standing behind another building, watching the field ahead of them.

"It looks like they've pinned down a small force over there," she said, pointing at a small zone where a group of scavengers and clones were trading fire. "Diaz is positioned over there." She pointed behind the clones, toward a thirty-foot pile of debris that had once been a skyscraper. "I think the transport is behind it."

"The woman told me she saw a bek'hai. We might be out of luck."

"What do you want to do?"

"What can we do? We've already committed. We'll try to make it to the transport and hope for the best."

"What about the others?"

Donovan knew she meant the scavengers. There was a good chance that helping them would bring the remaining bulk of the bek'hai clones to their position.

Donovan shifted as Soon and Iwu came up behind them, joining them at the wall.
 

"We got three of them," Soon said.
 

"Not before they killed two more civilians," Iwu said.

"They're all going to die like that," Soon said, noticing the firefight.

"You want to stop it, Captain?" Donovan asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Circle to that corner. Ehri, wait here with Doc Iwu. I'll head to the left and try to get to their flank."

Diaz whistled again. It was a sharper tone. She was asking them to hurry.

"Forget that," he said. "There's no time to get fancy. Conserve your ammo, watch out for friendlies. Follow my lead."

Donovan closed his eyes for a moment. The woman had blessed him.

He hoped it helped.

He moved out from behind the wall, sprinting towards an old car thirty meters away. The others followed behind him, joining him in the race.

One of the Dread clones must have noticed them, because a plasma bolt burned past his head a moment later, followed by two more. Then the return volleys began, Soon and Ehri returning fire, disrupting the attack and giving him a chance to reach cover.

They crouched behind it, the Dread offensive now split between them and the scavengers.
 

"I think I hit one," Soon said, pressed against the car beside him.

"We can't stay here," Ehri said. "Move."

She grabbed Donovan's arm, pulling him away from the car. Why? They would die as soon as they left cover.

Soon and Iwu followed them without question. Bolts cut the air around them, and then a heavy stream of burning energy blasted into the car, the Dread fighter streaking past as it finished its run, leaving the wreck in smoldering slag. Donovan looked back to the clones. One fell. Then another. To his left, the scavengers were breaking cover, going on the offensive.

"They're rallying," he said, stopping his retreat. They were open, too open, but they might not get another chance. He started shooting back at the Dread, careful not to waste the bolts he had remaining. He hit one, and then a second. He looked up. The fighter was circling back, coming in for another run. It would cut them apart.

"We need cover," he said.
 

Ehri noticed the fighter. "There isn't any."

"Back toward the scavengers."

He led them toward the human position, tracing the outskirts of the battlefield. Bullets and plasma bolts were filling the air with obstacles. There was nothing they could do but run.

They reached the line, where dirty men and women fired at the Dread with century-old pistols and rifles. They were surprised by the newcomers, but they didn't stop attacking.

The fighter streaked over, plasma cannon firing and slamming into the center of the human militia. Screams and shouts followed, along with smoke and debris.
 

"This isn't working out for us," Donovan said.
 

"I need to reach the transport," Ehri said.
 

"What if you can't fly it?"

"Then we're dead anyway."

Donovan frantically scanned the line of scavengers. There were only a dozen of them left, standing resolved in front of a stairwell.

That was why they hadn't run. They were defending something. Children, if he had to guess.

"Murphy," he shouted. "I'm looking for Murphy."

One of the men turned his haggard face in Donovan's direction. Donovan ran over to him.
 

"I need cover fire. A lot of it. From here to that corridor over there. Can you do it?"

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Murphy asked. He was a big man with tattooed arms and a thick beard.

"I know you have children down there," Donovan said. "Maybe women, too. Lay down some cover fire, and we may all be able to survive this."

Murphy didn't look convinced. He shouted to the scavengers anyway.
 

"Keep them covered. Keep it clear."

Donovan retreated to the others. "Ehri, let's go."

She stood, following him as he ran across the open field.
 

Bolts whizzed past them once more, diminishing as Murphy and the scavengers organized their fire. Soon joined them, sending plasma digging into the enemy position.

Donovan's heart was racing, his legs burning as he streaked across the field with Ehri beside him. The sprint seemed effortless to her, legs moving steady and strong to keep pace.
 

He heard the fighter coming, swooping in behind them. Ehri heard it too. They fell forward, pausing their run, tumbling on the ground as the plasma beam slammed into the ground ahead of them, close enough that he could feel the ionized heat of it. He rolled to a stop, wasting no time pushing himself up. Ehri did the same, falling in beside him. They were almost to the narrow corridor between the buildings.
 

Somehow, they were still alive.

They reached the wall, breaking free of the firefight, hurrying to the other end of the decimated building. The front of the transport became visible as they did, angled slightly toward them. It reminded him of a hornet with its sleek, angry face.

There were no soldiers near the transport that he could see. It looked as if it had been landed and abandoned, the entire contingent of the soldiers disembarking into the fray.

"We made it," he said through heavy breath, too excited about the outcome to stay silent. Ehri was pacing ahead of him, rushing to the open platform into the vehicle with an abandon that surprised him.

Humans were dying, and she wanted to stop it.

"Lor'el shur!"

The shout from behind them broke Donovan's train of thought, and caused Ehri to pull up to a fast stop in front of him.
 

They turned to face the source at the same time.

An armored pur'dahm, cradling something in his arms. He threw it to the ground as they looked his way.

Donovan couldn't breathe.

It was Diaz.

"Lor'el shur," the bek'hai repeated, his helmeted head turning from Ehri to Donovan. "Come back with me, un'hai," he said to Ehri in thick, growling English. "No more humans have to die today."

Donovan stared at the body on the ground in front of the pur'dahm. Diaz's limbs were twisted unnaturally; her head limp on a broken neck. His entire body was numb and tingling. His mind was nearly blank.

He had known Diaz almost their entire lives. She had gone from annoying kid sister, to valued Lieutenant, to what, exactly? He didn't know. Ehri had come along, and everything had been happening so fast.
 

It didn't matter now. She wasn't just dead. She was broken. Treated like a toy and used as an example by the Dread Warrior.

Ehri was making her way back toward the bek'hai. Her face was stone, but her eyes betrayed her anger. She and Diaz had never gotten along, but to Donovan they had been more like bickering sisters. They shared a level of respect if nothing else.
 

"Come with you? I'll kill you, Til'ek," she said.
 

"Ehri, no," Donovan said.

She froze next to him. "What?"

Donovan swallowed his nerves, taking a few steps in the pur'dahm's direction. He hoped he understood the customs.
 

"Call off your soldiers, Til'ek," he said. "We can settle this here and now."

The bek'hai seemed amused. "Hesh dur bek?"

Ehri had taught him those words. An honor fight. A duel.
 

"Yes."

"I will crush you."

"Hand to hand in your armor, you will. Will you fight on my terms?"

"Name them."

"Ehri, did you ever watch streams from the twentieth century? Westerns?"

"Westerns?"

"Gunfights? Two people at opposite ends of a street, ready to draw their weapons?" He had seen an old stream of it once. He knew people settled their differences that way centuries ago. It was the most fair fight he could have with the Dread pur'dahm.

She considered for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, I do remember something like that, once."

"Can you describe it to that asshole in his language, so we're clear?"

"Of course."

Ehri barked at the pur'dahm in the bek'hai's guttural language, describing how it worked. Donovan noticed that the sounds of violence had paused in the distance. Til'ek must have ordered his troops to stand down.

Donovan's eyes fell back to Diaz's body. He felt the anger welling up. It was his fault she was dead. He shouldn't have let her go off on her own, but she had always been so good at evading the enemy. He wouldn't fail again.

"When I am victorious, your people will be forfeit to me," Til'ek said. "And you will return to the Domo'dahm and explain yourself."

"If I win, your forces will retreat from this area," Donovan said. "On foot."

"You want the ship? I piloted it here, lor'hai. You cannot use it."

The words were a blow. Ehri's face showed her frustration for an instant before returning to calm. Donovan fought hard to keep his emotions from becoming apparent. Even if he won, they were still going to be on foot. Maybe they could at least salvage something from the vehicle.

"On foot," he repeated. "And these people are to be spared."

"I do not have the power to promise that. Only the Domo'dahm can spare your people, and he chooses not to. I can offer three days."

Donovan glanced at Ehri. She nodded. He was telling the truth.

"Agreed."

The pur'dahm bowed his head slightly. Donovan knew it was a show of respect. He did the same. Then they approached one another, for a moment standing face to face. The bek'hai was shorter than him without the armor, slightly taller with it.

They didn't speak, turning back-to-back. Then they walked away from one another, fifty steps each before turning around again.

Donovan held the Dread rifle at his side, staring across the distance to Til'ek. The Dread was holding his weapon almost casually. He was arrogant. He didn't believe a human could outmatch him at anything.

Donovan would make sure it was his undoing.

They faced off, motionless and silent. Donovan caught movement in the corner of his eye. The Dread clones, the scavengers, Soon and Doc Iwu had all come to witness this. He couldn't see Iwu's face when she noticed Diaz's body. He didn't dare lose his concentration.

Til'ek twitched, his rifle rising from his hip.