Dark Foundations (73 page)

“Was that wise to send her there?”

“Try stopping her. She's part of the intelligence team. She has a job to do and she will do it. And maybe action will ease the mourning.”

They looked at each other.

Merral sighed. “In that, she isn't alone.”

And after Vero left him, Merral consulted Clemant, then sent a message to the Langerstrand base.

“Fleet-Commander Lezaroth, this is Commander Merral D'Avanos. You have lost the
Triumph of Sarata
and most of your ground forces. We are surrounding your remaining forces. We give you the opportunity to surrender. We promise mercy to you and all those others who are human. You have until 0900 hours tomorrow Central Menaya Time to surrender. Should you begin further hostilities, we will return fire.”

There was no reply.

Merral tried to write his speech, but images of Perena kept disrupting his train of thought. Eventually it was done and Clemant approved the wording. Merral wondered if Clemant had ever considered making changes or whether asking to approve it was just a way of making the point that he was in control.

Merral gave the speech live. He began by introducing himself and outlining the events of the last few days, from the appearance of the
Triumph of Sarata
to the seizing of hostages at Langerstrand and the massacre at Tantaravekat. “Accordingly, it was decided that an act of war had been committed and that we were entitled to fight back. This morning, Central Menaya Time, Captain Perena Lewitz lured the
Triumph of Sarata
into the firing zone of the Guardian satellites. The result was, as she knew was probable, the utter destruction of both vessels. Captain Lewitz was a close friend of mine, and her loss is deeply felt. In whatever lies ahead of us as a world, I would like you to remember Captain Lewitz's example.

“At the time of Captain Lewitz's sacrificial tactic, Representative Anwar Corradon and I were trying to negotiate with the head of the Dominion forces at Langerstrand. Enraged by the loss of their ship, they attacked us personally. Representative Corradon fought back heroically and was slain by Ambassador Tinternli, who was herself killed by an Assembly rescue force. Since then, using improvised weapons, we have eliminated many of the Dominion's attack forces.

“Nevertheless, many remain. We know that the enemy has already landed on Menaya tens of thousands of four-legged synthetic life-forms called Krallen. While these are intelligent and cunning, they are only imitators of life, rather than living things. I just want to say here that although they are deadly, they can be defeated. They deserve no mercy and should be shown none. In addition to the use of these Krallen, we expect other forces to be used against us.

“We have given the Dominion forces a chance to surrender. In the next few hours, we expect land battles to begin between our forces and theirs. Whether you are a member of the regular forces, what we call the irregulars, or simply an ordinary civilian, all we ask is that you play your part with courage and determination.” He paused. “I wish that I could predict with confidence that we will win quickly and easily over these forces. I cannot. Our battle here is part of the long war against evil. Whether we win or lose this battle, we can be assured that this war will ultimately be won. It may be, in the wisdom and foreknowledge of the Most High, that we will lose here. But whether we win or lose, let us fight in such a way that, until the very end of the age, men and women's hearts will fill with pride when they hear the name Farholme. . . . God bless you all.”

Minutes after the broadcast, Vero called Merral. “My friend, that was magnificent. I watched it with the soldiers here. I tell you there are people who would follow you to the gates of hell.”

“I'm glad they found it encouraging. I needed to encourage myself.”

“Well done. Stay safe tonight. There's nothing happening at Langerstrand.”

Later that evening, Merral lay on his mattress in the annex and tried to sleep. For a long time though, sleep would not come and instead, he lay awake thinking of Perena and feeling sad.

“What happened in there, Ambassador?” Lezaroth's voice rang around the tiny room. He continued to pace around the seated figure of Hazderzal. “I asked that they be killed! Instead,
Tinternli
was killed and
he
escaped!” There was no need to spell out who
he
was.

The two armed guards on either side of the sealed door stared rigidly ahead.

“I was . . . overwhelmed by events,” Hazderzal said with a tremor in his voice.

“Ambassador, you are now surplus to requirements.”
And I have more pressing demands on my time.

Lezaroth noted that his guards had turned and looked at him in anticipation of an order. “Throw him to the baziliarch.”

“You wouldn't!” Hazderzal's eyes were wide. “I'm a friend of the lord-emperor!”

“You
were.
”

Lezaroth watched as a screaming Hazderzal was dragged away.
I must remember to amend the account
so that D'Avanos's men killed both ambassadors
.

He called up the wallscreen map of Farholme. This morning's loss had been appalling. Even if blame was not going to be attached to him—he would make sure of that—he needed to salvage ultimate victory out of the debacle. But the battle was far from lost. He was protected from attack by hostages, he still had vast forces at his command, and the opposition was very badly armed. But he could afford no more slipups. The Farholmers had already shown that they were tricky opponents.

Lezaroth had a long-standing reluctance to use extra-physical forces. They could be so unreliable. (Hadn't they promised the lord-emperor that Hanax would play a great role?) But now he had little choice. He would use the Baziliarch on the battlefield.

Lezaroth pondered the map for some time.
I will attack tomorrow
and push straight to this world's capital. I should take it by nightfall.

He began to draw up his plans.

Merral and Lloyd boarded the flier at an already busy Isterrane Airport just as the first golden rays of dawn struck the highest towers.

The rear of the flier was filled with boxes.
Armor and new blades,
Merral surmised. The thought troubled him.
We're still equipping our troops, yet battle may begin within hours.

As she waited for clearance to take off, the unfamiliar pilot turned her head to Merral. “I knew Perena, Commander. I'm very proud to have known her.”

“Thank you,” Merral said, a lump forming in his throat. “Thank you very much.” He looked away, unable to speak.
Yesterday,
the shock of Perena's death was so great that it did not allow for grief. Today, it has worn off enough for me to feel the bite of the loss.

They landed at a new earth strip just east of Tezekal Ridge within walking distance of the village. The early morning sunlight cast long, sharp shadows and made the rocks of the ridge and the high slopes of Mount Adaman seem even more jagged and broken.

Merral stood by the flier as soldiers unloaded the equipment. He looked around, noting that it was already warm and that they had flattened olive groves to make the runway, on which already half a dozen vessels were lined up including, ominously, two white hospital ships. Beyond them were two small aircraft with red cylinders stacked under their long wings that Merral recognized as the attack fliers. Between these and the village was a sprawling tented encampment seething with activity. No one strolled. Everyone jogged or strode with urgent paces.

At the edge of the runway, a slight, familiar figure wearing a brown jerkin and dark glasses beckoned Merral over. It was Vero.

As he walked over, on impulse, Merral stopped and stooped down to touch the crushed remains of an olive tree. He stroked the dying shrivelled leaves with his fingers.

“Trees can be replanted,” he said with a soft sigh.

Lloyd, standing at his side, nodded.

He understands
.

Vero extended a hand of greeting. “Welcome, Commander. How are you?”

“I feel as if something has been amputated from me. And I can only imagine how you feel, Vero. I really don't know what to say.”

“T-there's nothing you need to say.” There was a terrible sadness in his words. “But we have work to do.”

“And I will do it. Any news from Langerstrand?”

“Nothing so far. The intelligence team here is keeping a careful eye on matters.”

“Who's in the team? You said Anya?”

“Anya, Azeras, and Betafor. And we have a dozen watchers out on the Hereza Crags and even a few on Mount Adaman. Azeras thinks the Dominion will wait until after the deadline to move. That gives us an hour or so. T-time for you to get geared up. And Luke Tenerelt is here. He was doing the rounds of the troops when I last saw him.”

“I'm glad he's here. I think we'll need him.”

They walked along narrow paths lined with stone walls into the village. Birds hopped from branch to branch; brown lizards stared at them and then scuttled away across stones, sunlight glistened on fading dew.
Life goes on.
The idea gave him little comfort.

A tall man wearing green armor and a helmet waited for them at the top of the steps. Zak Larraine. He had a sword at his belt.

“Sir!” Zak snapped, throwing his gloved hand tight against his helmet in the crispest of salutes and somehow managing to stamp his boot heels together on the ground. “Welcome to Tezekal HQ, sir. Colonel Lanier is expecting you in the command room.”

Merral found the enthusiasm in Zak's voice irritating. “I wasn't aware you were here, Colonel Larraine,” he said, returning the salute with what he knew was a much slacker gesture. Somehow military protocol seemed less important than it once had.

“Sorry, sir. It's just that training is over. And, well, I didn't want to miss a battle. You know me.” Zak smiled.

“Yes, I do. Well, I doubt you will be disappointed today, sadly.”

Merral read incomprehension in Zak's eyes.

“I don't think it sad, sir. These things need thrashing.”

The incomprehension is mutual,
Merral decided, but said nothing in reply.

Zak's expression brightened. “Sir, Colonel Lanier has given me authority to command the troops on the south side of the gorge. I'm going to be with them now to make sure we're as well prepared as we can be. Is that okay, sir?”

“Yes. It's fine by me.”

Zak saluted again and, almost bounding down the steps, headed toward the gorge.

The headquarters was a white-walled house that had been hastily altered. The doors had been removed from their hinges and the glass taken from the windows. Outside, dusty soldiers piled up earth banks.

The living room was now the control room. A fine set of windows had once looked west over the marsh. Now though, the only view was of an embankment beneath a narrow strip of sky.