Marked (16 page)

I open my mouth to tell him I still dream of Cash, and that, even against the odds, I'm not ready to give him up.

But I bite down and eat the sigh that's struggling to slip away. In the dark, I swallow all these words but two. “I'm scared,” I say.

“I know,” he whispers. He is so still, his whole body unblinking. The invitation still stands.

But I close my eyes and pretend it's not there. I pretend I don't want him at all.

In my dreams, Cash doesn't die. Tonight, he doesn't come at all. I don't relive the ambush. Instead, I dream of the Spire.

I'm alone, looking at pictures and parchment and books. But there are no walls, and all the glass cases are broken.

The words are scattered. They are everywhere.

They fly from the pages and old paper, rising up like a flock of birds, their soft-lettered bodies sweeping the air in a wave of ink-stained static. It's a bat-winged sound, a building, winding, chaos-twisting cry. The flock spirals around me. They cover me. They blot out the Spire and expand, an all-consuming, black-limbed flutter.

A million words hug the empty space and conquer me. I close my lids and listen. Arms wide, I lose myself in the cresting whir. I fall into the noise.

Eyes open. Take a breath. Surrender.

When I wake, for the first time in a long time, I am calm and clearheaded. It's early, and Bear has already left; my eyes drift to his empty cot. But I know now. I know exactly how to fight.

I flex James.

PV: SENDING YOU AN UPDATED BRIEFING. READ IT. AND I NEED YOU TO DO SOMETHING FOR ME.

JA: ???

PV: I NEED SAFE INTERSTELLAR TRANSPORT FOR ME AND A MISSION TEAM.

JA: BACK TO CASTRA? YOU'RE INSANE.

PV: NOT TO CASTRA. I NEED TO GET INTO EARTH'S ORBIT. SPACE STATION U.S.S. SWEETWATER.

JA: IMPOSSIBLE.

PV: FIND A WAY.

JA: I'LL TRY.

PV: NO TRY. JUST DO IT.

JA: YES, YOUR HIGHNESS.

PV: RUST OFF. AND THANK YOU. TALK LATER.

Then I ask Miyu to arrange a second meeting with Moira. Turns out, I just might need her help again.

I HAVE TO GET TO THE WAR ROOM TO TALK TO NANDAN AND
the others. And I'm almost there when the battle sirens begin to wail. The bleat's full-on, droning out a red alert. Hank's coming through the doorway. He catches me by the arm.

“They're coming,” he says. “I need to go. But you find Hal, and keep him under the hill. You both need to hole up and wait this out.”

“If there's a battle, I'm not just going to—”

He gets me by the shoulders, gripping tight. “Bear's already out there, and Hal's lost enough.
You stay away from the line.
”

He lets go, and he's off before I have the chance to affirm the order.

It's just as well. I'd rather not lie to his face.

I do find Hal, but neither of us stays under the hill. We run to tent city and fill our ears with field orders and secondhand news.

A whole armada this time.

A hundred fighters and a uni-carrier.

We're only seventy vacs, even with the latest reinforcements.

We'll never hold the line.

I dash to the airstrip, looking for Bear, but it's too late. He's already up in the air. No good-byes, and I pray he'll be all right. As for me, I've never wished harder to be more useful. All those wasted days in the valley; I could have trained as a soldier. I
will
train, I swear, if we live through this day, even if I'm only infantry.

Larken won't allow Fahra and Miyu to fly, and Nandan needs Hal on the ground to run the infirmary. So we three jump in to help out.

Miyu and I stand at the infirmary pump, filling buckets for Hal. Hands in the water, I close my eyes and send a silent prayer into the spill.
Don't take Bear,
I beg
. Not this time. Not ever, and I swear, next time, the current can have me.

Back and forth, we dash between the airfield and the infirmary, tending to the wounded. By late afternoon, the skies
become one vast, gray, churning cauldron of heat. My ears are so raw, I can hardly hear the thunder anymore, or the scream of missiles. And the hammer fall blasts no longer knock us off our feet. We balance on the aftershocks, nudging our way through our tasks.

Many fighters refuel. Some don't come back at all. There's talk of soldiers, shot down and trapped on the ground. Inside the infirmary, Hal and Fahra hash it out. They're uncertain what to do.

I hand Fahra a tray of instruments. He runs it under the sterilizer. “But we have one more medi-vac,” he says.

“No,” Hal replies. “The last one's no good. The accelerant's shot.” He pauses, shaking his head. “All those pilots down. Still alive, but no way to get off the battlefield. No one can get through to the line.”

“Then we'll just have to get there on the ground,” I interrupt.

“How?” Hal says. “We can't just hike up and pick through the crypts. It'd take us hours to make that climb, and we'd probably get blasted to bits before we even made it into the valley.”

“No,” Fahra says. “There is a road. Just north of here. Up and around, it follows the stream. If it is clear, we can take it.”

“Hal, you gather whatever supplies you think we'll
need to take to the line,” I say. “We're going to get those survivors. Captain Fahra, Miyu's back at the pump. Let her know what the plan is. Meet me back here in ten minutes.”

“And you?” the captain asks.

“Me?” I say. “I'm gonna find us a rig.”

I have to lie. I tell Belach, the quartermaster, that we need a vehicle for . . . ugh, we need it for moving stuff. Yes, yes, he agrees. He shoos me off with an ignition code.

I pick the biggest set of wheels in the yard, an armored Nightcrawler, which, if I have anything to do with it, isn't going be doing much crawling tonight. I climb up into the cab and settle into the driver's seat. Just one problem.

My feet don't reach the pedals.

I punch in the ignition code and look for the seat controls. Fully adjustable, my exhaust. They are, if you're a seven-foot Cyanese man. I crank myself closer, as far as I can. When I get to the infirmary, I'll have to find a sheet or ten to roll up and wedge behind me. But what this beast lacks in comfort, it repays in tech. The engine systems are whisper quiet; no chugging roar, which is what I'd expected. And in “ghost” mode, the windshield morphs into full-on, night vision flex glass. Without the least hint of light, I can see every bent blade of grass. Even better,
the auto-cloaking system renders this thing undetectable from the air. The additional heat signature detection grid? Just a nice bonus.

Time to roll. One hand on the wheel and one on the console, I kick this monster into gear.

Carefully, I skirt the airstrip and make my way back to our impromptu rally point. Hal, Miyu, Captain Fahra—they're all waiting for me. When I mumble something about grabbing sheets to stuff behind me, Fahra takes one look at my seat and tells me to quit sitting on the edge. I slide back and he reaches over to examine the controls. Turns out I found the seat adjustment all right, but missed the
pedal
controls. One touch and the whole floor panel extends to meet me. With both ends maxed out, it's not a bad fit.

“This is better?” he asks.

“Much better.”

“I think . . .” He smiles, then hops back down. “. . . They hadn't bargained so much on a little
gan-gan
like you.”

I share his grin, and we help Hal and Miyu load the back end. Hal slides in the last two stretchers and then we're a go. Slowly, we bump our way out of tent city, then pedal to the floor as I sprint for the road.

I can hear it. We're getting closer. The battle's not so far away now. I glance up, where the fighters sweep the
gloom. My place isn't up there, in a vac. It's always been here, racing on the ground.

“Watch the tree line,” Fahra says. “The road's just beyond them. Sharp curve ahead.”

And he's right. The narrow lane—which is barely more than a shepherd's track—zigzags a lot to compensate for the tough grade around the hill. We make it halfway around, just shy of the valley, when Captain Nandan's voice crackles through the Nightcrawler's com.

“What in the name of Bisera do you think you're doing?” he yells.

I cringe. “Sir, with all due respect, we are heading for the line to pick up the wounded.”

“No, you're not. The valley's crawling with ground readers and fallen IP. You turn around, right now, get back down here.”

I start to argue, but Hal leans between Fahra and me. “Copy that, Captain,” he says calmly. “But I'm afraid we're going to have to disregard those orders.”

“Listen here, Larssen,” Nandan roars. “I'm not having some of my best auxiliaries stranded out there. And we cannot afford Phee getting captured.”

I risk a glance at Hal, keeping one eye on the narrow road. The look on his face, it's like seeing him for the first time. Resolute, he looks to Fahra and Miyu.

“We need you, Hal,” Nandan says.

Finally, Hal answers. “Yes, Captain. You do need us. And that's why we're here. And if I don't see you at fallback, it's been a pleasure to serve under your command.”

Then Hal swipes the volume down on Nandan's pleading. We tune it out, like it's just another roll of thunder.

Even with night vision, it's hard to make out much once we reach the edge of the valley. The air's thick with flash fire and smoke; it takes a second to get our bearings on the downhill. Can't get around the fog, so I gamble on speed to get through it. Teeth gritted, heart pounding, I keep the throttle open. At last, when the terrain levels out, we pothole, then skid, then grind to a stop.

“Visibility's still for sap,” I say.

“How will we find them?” Miyu asks.

“Power down,” Hal replies. “And I'll show you.”

In the hold of the rig, Hal first passes the packs, one for each of us to shoulder. Then he tosses me a bio-scanner. Miyu gets one too. I reach to pocket it, but Hal stops me. “The side screen. Swipe it from ‘diagnostic' mode to ‘trace signature,'” he says. “And lock it to ‘quiet' mode too. We don't know who's out there.”

We obey.

“Miyu, you come with me. And Fahra, you go with
Phee,” Hal says. “The bio-scanners will ping once when they detect any vitals signature within a hundred-meter radius. The closer you get, the more they'll sound off. If you sense enemy movement, silence and take cover.”

When we nod in agreement, he adds, “And if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right. You all wear your masks, and keep your lenses clear. We flex each other if there's trouble. We don't leave anyone behind. Captain Fahra, I've got a pulse gun, and there's another in your pack. Watch out for ground readers; you may need it.”

Overhead, another missile meets its target, and the impact shreds the air. Less than a mile east, if I had to guess. Air to ground impact. Another fighter down. A second later, the aftershocks. For a moment, the Nightcrawler quakes. A different tremor moves through me; the sense of doom hits like a tidal wave. In vain, I close my eyes and will it to pass.

We jump out and close the hold behind us.

“Ready?” Hal asks.

“Affirmative,” I say.

Hal secures his gun and slings his pack over his shoulders. “Then rendezvous in thirty minutes or less. If you find wounded, get them back here as fast as you can. Stick to our side of the lowlands.” He squints into the acrid fog of the eastern sky, where the battle's raging most
hot. “Stay west of the old armory. I mean it.” He looks at me. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Satisfied, he pulls on his mask. He and Miyu lope off into the darkness.