Dark Foundations (72 page)

Rejecting the temptation to seek solitude and let the looming wave of grief crash over him, Merral returned to the war room. He heard the hum of voices and sensed a nervous sweaty anxiety.

Vero, his face a sickly gray, joined him and together they stared at a computer map on a far wall as a pair of glowing yellow crosshairs, one below the other, traversed a cross-hatched square labeled
Dominion Forces.

“Satellites VB1 and VB2 are targeting Stepalis,” announced the engineer with short brown hair.

The hum of voices stopped. Everyone seemed to hold his or her breath. An adjacent screen showed a satellite image of a mosaic of gray squares: neatly ordered arrays of Krallen.

How strange.
Such ordered beings who produce such a bloody chaos
.

“Energizing. Vortex initiated.”

The crosshairs turned into small, glowing orange spirals.

The satellite image showed a dirty, turbulent mass thickening and twisting to become a massive column of swirling debris. In the core of the column, a fiery red glow dawned.

“Ground temperature at vortex center rising,” the engineer intoned. “Now eight hundred, a thousand, twelve hundred Celsius; outer vortex wind speeds one fifty . . . no, two hundred kph.”

The orange spirals moved eastward across the map. The screen expanded to show dirt, trees, and gleaming gray fragments whirling upward and inward into the fiery core.

Merral watched the inferno.
Is Tantaravekat avenged?

In a minute, the glow faded.

New imagery appeared: a dozen small whirlwinds crossing a dirty, blasted wasteland.

“Enemy concentration at Stepalis destroyed,” the engineer announced.

There was a cheer from somewhere.

“One down, three to go,” Vero muttered.

In ten minutes, the glowing yellow crosshairs were over the concentration at Maraplant and soon the war room's occupants were rewarded by new images of destruction.

“Two down,” Vero said, sounding relieved.

Ten minutes later both vortex blasters were over Kammart.

“The units that were at Tantaravekat returned here,” someone said.

“Let's fry them!” said someone else.

“Here we go!” the engineer announced. “Three, two, one, fir—hold it!” An icon flashed and she tapped the screen.

Only one set of crosshairs glowed yellow.

“Uh-uh, VB2 is not responding, sir,” said the engineer.

“What's the problem?” Merral asked.

“Give me a moment, sir.” She tapped the screen again, then looked at Merral. “Diagnostics suggests major damage to the charge systems. They're overheated. . . . I think we've lost VB2.”

Merral heard a cluck of dismay from Vero.
I have to make a decision
,
and fast
. “Clear the site with VB1 alone. Then move east to the Camolgi Hills concentration.”

“Yes, sir.”

After VB1 fired, there were more gratifying images of devastation.

Three down!

Ten minutes later the call went up that the Camolgi Hills concentration was coming into the line of fire. Merral waited for the same pattern: the glowing yellow crosshairs followed by the wind and the inferno.

But nothing happened.

The engineer looked at Merral with a face full of disappointment. “Sir, I'm afraid VB1 is down too. Both units are now damaged beyond repair. We never touched the easternmost forces.”

“Very well. At least we've taken out three of the five units.”
But that still leaves massive Krallen forces at Langerstrand and the Camolgi Hills.

All looked at him.
It's the new rule.
When in doubt, look at Merral D'Avanos.
But who does he look to?

“I want a full assessment of what we face as soon as you can get it. I'll be in the annex with Vero.”

While the assessment was made, Merral sat with Vero in the privacy of the annex room. He felt numb.

“Vero, I'm forcing myself to concentrate. It's not easy.”

Vero sighed. “I know. But we have no choice but to act now, and act swiftly and hard.”

“Very well. Look, how do we know they won't come back with another ship?”

“We don't. But Azeras says they have, so far, few such vessels. And it took them months to get here. If we can take the
Dove of Dawn
and win here, they will not know what happened to their expeditionary force. Then maybe, just maybe, they'll leave the Assembly alone.”

“I hear a lot of
if
s and
maybe
s there.”

“True.”

“Tell me what else I need to know—all the things you wouldn't tell me earlier.”

“We have got something to deal with the Krallen. Their covering—their armor—is a special energy- and impact-resistant ceramic fiber. It deflects most bullets and protects against the heat of laser or beam weapons. But there is a weakness. The right sort of molecular-tuned blade can cut through it.”

“A blade? Against those things?”

“Yes. The blade edge parts the fibers. Once it's below the surface, you short out the circuitry.”

“Is this just theory?”

There was a flicker of something that on another day might have grown into a smile. “We lured the ambassadors' Krallen pack into a trap. It was tough, but we got enough to experiment on. It works.”

“And we have such blades?”

“For all the regulars at least. The moment the
Triumph
was destroyed we started issuing them—simple noncollapsible blades like swords. We couldn't tell you, of course, in case they found out and changed the composition.”

“Blades—swords? It works?”

“Their engineering majors on strength and power; it doesn't understand subtlety. Their materials technology is inferior to ours.”

“Yes, we've seen that before. But will it work on the battlefield?”

“That's the sixty-four-million-dollar question.”

“Dollar?”

“Sorry. Another old phrase. The vital question. You can watch the demonstrations. I expect we'll know very shortly.” But Vero sounded unsure. “The blades are being issued as we speak. We have tested the armor too. It does resist Krallen teeth or claws.”

There was a knock at the door and a man came in with a sheet of paper.

“The situation report, sir.”

Five minutes later, Merral sat back in his chair, his numbed mind trying to summarize the situation. There was much to give thanks for. In addition to the massive destruction Perena had achieved, the Dominion forces at Stepalis, Maraplant, and Kammart had now been completely destroyed. Around sixty thousand Krallen, at least a hundred landing vessels, and vast amounts of equipment had been turned into glowing fragments. Yet, despite this, large Dominion forces remained—an estimated twenty thousand Krallen at Langerstrand and the same number at the Camolgi Hills.

“Well, things are clearer now,” Vero said, as he stared at the map. “Azeras says they will go for the heart—the crushing blow. That means Isterrane.”

Merral gazed at the map on the table.
What had the ancient soldiers called it?
A “pincer movement”—that was the phrase.

“Yes. The forces to the northeast of us could either strike Halmacent City or Ranapert or simply avoid them and go straight to Isterrane. They could be here in a day.” Merral moved his finger to the left. “And to our west, the Langerstrand forces could head toward us along the road. Unless they are stopped, they could be here in two hours.”

“That's about it,” Vero said. His face was grim.

“This is what I propose,” Merral said, drawing an arc with his fingertip just east of Halmacent City. “The Eastern Regiment stays put. I will get Frankie Thuron to keep building the defenses there so they can resist any Krallen push out of this Camolgi Hills site. He may be able to hold them.”

Vero nodded. “Frankie has the only artillery pieces we were able to make in time. There are three of them, but they make a difference.”

“Yes. Well, he will need them. Now let's look west of Isterrane.” Merral pointed to where the ridges of the Varrend Tablelands dominated the left-hand part of the map. “I want to get Leroy Makunga to bring almost all the soldiers of the Western Regiment to Isterrane to boost the defenses around the city. Leave only a hundred in Varrend City. You agree?”

“Makes sense.”

“Good. Now for the hard bit. What we do with the forces left at Langerstrand? You agree they must come east on the Tezekal Gorge route?”

“Yes. They could strike north from Langerstrand and hit the Western Trunk Road, but the ground's very rough—cliff after cliff. The Krallen might do it, but there will be support vehicles. So they will take the road.”

“We agree. So, by universal agreement, the place to stop them is Tezekal Gorge. Once past Tezekal there is nothing to stop them before Isterrane. We may blow the bridge over the Walderand, but that will only delay them for a few hours.”

Vero nodded.

“Good, so I'm going to shift almost all the soldiers of the Central Regiment to Tezekal. There are already a lot there. But, Vero, I don't like the odds. They could be well over twenty to one against us.”

Vero grunted. “A bit better, but not much. I have already ordered more irregulars in. There are a-about a thousand there preparing for guerrilla warfare, mostly on the slopes of the Hereza Crags and at the edge of the Edelcet Marshes.”

“That will be a help. The two attack fliers are at Isterrane. I think I'll have them relocated to Tezekal with the bombs. Any other suggestions?”

“Yes—take the initiative. Order Lezaroth and the Dominion forces to surrender by nine tomorrow.”

“What good will that do?”

Vero gave the weakest of smiles. “Probably none. But it will show them we're not afraid. And it appeals to my sense of the dramatic.”

“Very well. But do we have any hope?”

There was a long pause. “Early this morning, I would have said very little. But Perena . . . has given us a chance.” He felt silent and Merral felt that grief had invaded the room.

Eventually Vero looked up. “But, my friend, we have to admit that frankly it's not promising. And Azeras warns us that if this baziliarch joins in the fighting, we are in trouble. As ever we must do our best and rely on the grace of the Most High.”

He stood. “I'm certain that we'll face them tomorrow at Tezekal Gorge. I want to go there as soon as I can. I want to take Azeras and Betafor.”

“I thought you didn't trust her.”

“I don't—or not entirely—but it's a risk worth taking. It has emerged that she has the ability to listen in to transmissions. The Dominion messages are encrypted so she can't understand them, but she can make a good guess as to the sort of thing they are saying. She will serve us; she knows what side her bread is buttered on.”

“I thought she didn't eat. . . . Oh, I see.”

“Never mind. Anyway, we have a case to transport her in. The plan is to take her hidden in this case and lock her in a room with a lot of receiving equipment. Incidentally, only a few of my closest aides know about Azeras and Betafor. But their input has been invaluable and it is vital that the Dominion doesn't realize that we have their aid. Assuming, that is, the baziliarch hasn't passed on the news about Azeras.”

“Very well. So what would you suggest that I do?”

“You? Sit down, pray, and write that speech.” Vero looked at his watch. “I wouldn't come out to Tezekal tonight unless there is any action. Get the best night's sleep you can here and come out by dawn. I'll have armor for you there. Remember, Lezaroth will target you if he can.”

“Very well. I need to talk to Anya.”

“Yes, Anya.” Vero rubbed his forehead with his knuckle in an expression of sad perplexity. “She knew what her sister planned to do. She's already out at Tezekal.”