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“The rains will fall upon the honored and the dishonored alike!” said the communications box with sudden emotion.

“Exactly!” I said, hoping the rising excitement in the other’s words was a good thing. I had to grab hold of that emotion and channel it, turn it against the Macros where it belonged. “The Macros have dishonored us both. They urinate down both our skins. If they are capable of laughing, they are doing so now.”

A silence followed. “They dare to laugh at our Herds?” the question came at last. The emotional inflection came through as incredulous. I noted that the communications box was getting better at translating the Centaur’s speech. Every minute we used it, the neural net inside fine-tuned itself.

“Yes!” I said. “The machines think we are fools. They work us like—like tools.”

“This is a fine insult. This cannot be borne.”

“We agree. Because of this, we have paused in our fighting. We have changed the direction of our herd. We no longer wish to press into your lands.”

“You do not claim our lands?”

“No! We do not claim the ground we stand on, and we wish to leave. We wish to join with you, and trample the machines. We will take their lands instead.”

They paused again. I sensed that perhaps a large group of them argued as to how to proceed. During these interludes, it was best to say nothing, as interrupting their thoughts only seemed to make them take longer to come back with a response.

At length, they said: “We will join herds with you, if you have a plan. And you must lead. When no human foot stands upon our lands, we will follow you.”

I took a deep breath and a swig of water from my suit’s reservoirs. The water was warm, but slightly refreshing. I had promised myself to redesign these suits with chillers that worked on the water supply, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I wished that I had spent the time. I could use a cold drink right now.

“Sounds like you’ve got them where you want them, Colonel,” said a voice nearby. I turned and saw it was Lieutenant Marquis.

She was standing, but supporting her weight with both hands on Kwon’s arm. He was beaming like a guy with a hot prom date. She had broken her pelvis, but that would heal up in a day or two with the help of a few million hardworking nanites.

I flashed them a smile then waved for them to be quiet. I didn’t want the herds to overhear and get the wrong idea. Kwon led Marquis away. She hobbled and hopped awkwardly.

“Lieutenant?” I called after her. Both of them turned.

“Sir?”

“You think you can pilot one of those assault ships in a few hours?”

She looked at me seriously. “I can. They don’t have pedals, you know.”

“I know,” I said.

Kwon was the only one who didn’t look happy. He had a concerned look. I could tell he was thinking he had just brought Joelle back from the dead, and now I was going to send her into the teeth of the Macros again.

He was right, and it wasn’t fair. But there was nothing I could do about it. I was short on pilots.

-14-

Talking the Centaurs through the next part of my plan went more easily than I would have thought. I’d told them I wanted to puncture their sky, and I told them why. They understood and agreed grudgingly. They only had one sticking point: they didn’t like the idea of huddling in their underground passages and tubes all around the station.

“We do not creep beneath the earth,” they informed me huffily. “It is not our way. The Herd stands and faces death bravely.”

“And that is our way as well,” I said gently. “But we also know it is sometimes best to trick an enemy, to appear weak, when really, we are strong.”

“Trickery is not the goal of an honorable Herd.”

I grunted. That gambit had failed. I was trying to get them to hunker down and hide in every tube, storage chamber and food processing chamber that encircled the central cavity of the station. The place was huge, and should hold them all at least temporarily. Then, I could blow a hole in their roof, depressurize the central chamber and return to the Macro ships claiming victory.

They had understood the necessity of making it
appear
we had won the day to the Macros—although they weren’t happy with anyone believing they’d lost a fight. But they really had trouble with hiding in dark, enclosed spaces. I began to believe they had a visceral fear of such places. It added up: they hadn’t rushed into the tubes and outer chambers to fight us, but had waited until we were out in their open environment. No wonder they’d built these structures so insanely large. A spacefaring race that suffered from claustrophobia was at a definite disadvantage.

“But if you do not hide when the central cavity depressurizes, you will all die,” I pointed out in a reasonable tone.

“Honor is worth a thousand deaths.”

“Is it worth a million?”

“Yes.”

My head itched inside my helmet, and I wanted to take it off and throw it at the Centaurs. After that, I would have a really good, satisfying scratch. I left it on in the end, suffering the tickle of sweat on my scalp and nose.

“Pointless defeat is dishonorable,” I told them. “If you die when the cold vacuum comes into your hollow world, you will have provided the machines with fresh amusements.”

I touched upon the area of being laughed at purposefully. Apparently, nothing pissed off a herd of Centaurs more than the thought the other side believed they were foolish.

“We are insulted! Our rivers will be swollen with the tears of our enemies!”

I shrugged, not knowing what they meant exactly, but understanding the tone: I had pushed their button. I decided it was time for a little pause on my side of this conversation.

Neither side spoke for nearly a minute. By the end, I was weakening and reaching for the talk button.

“There is dishonor and death on every path,” they said. “We will take the trail which defeats our laughing enemies.”

They said this last with bitterness. I almost felt for them, sensing this was a painful decision for the herds. It was hard not to be impressed by a people willing to die en masse for their own arcane sense of honor.

“You have one hour to secure your bodies in airtight chambers,” I said, not wanting to give them a chance to back out or complain about details. “After that, we will empty the sky. Then, we will lead the way as we have agreed. We will strike the first blow, taking the Macro ships as we return to them in apparent triumph.”

“We are impressed and sickened that you dishonor yourselves this way to strike at our mutual enemy.”

That statement made me mildly angry. The Centaurs didn’t believe trickery was acceptable in warfare. They wanted a stand-up fight without deception of any kind. Anything less was disgusting to them. The implication was that
we
were disgusting creatures. Since we were willing to debase ourselves to win, the Centaurs were only making deals with us out of necessity.

I quickly got over my irritation with them and I ordered my men to set up a massive barrage of fire. We destroyed every bush and low-built structure in the vicinity to make it look like a pitched battle was going on. We advanced into the region we were firing into, and slowly marched to the point the Macros had identified as a weak spot. We stood underneath it, still putting on a good display of fire. I knew the Macros were watching this structure with sensors. From outside, the leaks of radiation would give the appearance of further combat.

When the hour had passed, I contacted the Centaurs. “We are in position,” I said. “This is your last warning, we are about to puncture the sky. Get all your people beneath the land.”

“We are ready. Those that stand upon the hilltops await their deaths resolutely.”

I paused, frowning. Some of them weren’t going to take cover?

“I urge you to order your people to find shelter. We are about to depressurize this chamber.”

“We are a herd, but we have individual honor as well. Some could not withstand the embarrassment of huddling in fear. Some could not say farewell to the sky.”

“Should we wait?” I asked.

“Proceed.”

I licked my lips. I nodded to Kwon and the others. Orders were shouted up and down the line. Every man raised his rifle together. We burned the distant roof, creating an ovoid region of destruction. At first, the structure blackened and hundreds of molten sparks and glowing metallic droplets showered us. Our visors darkened. I had the men halt for ten seconds to cool our projectors, then we fired again, in unison.

It was the fourth combined barrage that did it. The ceiling opened, and it did indeed look like we’d destroyed the sky. Chunks of debris fell, but as we’d calculated, it missed us at our position.

The hazy clouds were sucked out into space first, turning whiter with frost as they went out the hole. The disturbed air flowed and rippled down to us, forming a dozen cyclones. I watched in amazement as these phenomenons touched down all around the central cavity, ripping up plants, buildings…and bodies.

Some of my men were sucked up as well by random whirlwinds. I ordered them to hang onto their skateboards and use thrust to fire through the turbulent hole if they got too close to an edge. One of my biggest worries was that my men would be dashed against the jagged lips of this rupture we’d created. When they got close to the hole, they were to blast their way through the center and win through into open space.

One of the cyclones touched down upon the hill where we’d fought our first battle. Countless brown bodies were lifted up in a swirl of debris. They were all carried up toward the nexus of these spinning vortexes, the hole.

The structure shivered around the lips of the rupture, and it broke open wider. I stared in horror. What if the whole place went down? What if, in the end, I really had served the Macros as a perfect tool of destruction? If this entire station sank down into the planetary atmosphere and was destroyed, would our two people be blood enemies for all eternity?

Even as my fears grew, however, the hole stopped ripping itself larger. The escaping pressure had lessened, and thus applied less force to the lip of the opening. It had stopped expanding.

“Wow,” said Kwon, standing near me on the hill. “So many of them.”

“What?”

“The Centaurs,” he said, pointing toward one of the cyclones. It had paused over the largest population center in the cavity. Calling it a
city
would have been a misnomer, but it was the closest thing these people had to one. “Magnify your visor. Zoom in on that cyclone—the darkest one,” he said.

I did as he suggested, and my jaw sagged. The cyclone was dark with bodies. Thousands upon thousands of them. I realized with a heavy heart, that the voice at the end of communications line had never said how many of them had chosen death over dishonor. By saying
some
had decided to stand in the open, the voice at the far side of the com box had perhaps meant
half
.

I went back to the com box and tried to open the connection to the Centaurs again.

“I didn’t know you were lemmings, dammit!”

They did not answer. Had I killed them all? Had their spokesman chosen death over dishonor? I felt sick.

One of the cyclones swirled close, then closer still. I decided it would be better to head upward now, not to be crushed against the walls or the floor of the chamber. We all mounted our skateboards and rode them into the thin air that was left. We headed upward, hundreds of us, standing on our dishes and gliding closer with alarming speed. I sensed I was caught in a current, as were a hundred others.

I almost blew it—I almost fought the current. I tried to keep my wits about me, but it was difficult. The wind was so powerful, so
loud
, it was like standing next to roaring train in a tunnel. I recalled the advice given to swimmers in the ocean, when sucked under by a wave. One should go with the flow, let it take you with it.

I took that advice and was swept upward with dizzying, sickening speed. I spun around and around. My dish stayed adhered to my feet via magnets and countless chains of straining nanites. I saw them ripple over my suited body, as if I was wrapped in aluminum foil or dunked in mercury.

Bodies, both living and dead, swept by. Fifty to one of them were Centaurs. Some of them kicked feebly. As I’d said before, they were hard to kill.

Jagged edges of twisted metal filled my vision for a moment, and then I was out into the blackness of space. The planet below was engulfed in darkness. The yellow star, being on the far side of this world, did nothing to illuminate the scene.

I flowed with the rest as the ride died down to a gentle, bumping flow. We steered toward the assault ships on the surface of the structure.

“What now, Colonel?” asked Kwon, now that conversation was possible again.

“We do as we said,” I told him. “Get to the assault ships. Form up around all four of them. I want three companies behind each. Don’t launch until I’ve talked to the Macros.”

When I’d managed to reach Lieutenant Marquis’ assault ship, I looked back toward the rupture. The flow had lessened a great deal now. But still bodies were puffing out of it, like a volcano of death. The surface of the structure rained with Centaurs. Their bodies came floating slowly back down to rest upon it, as it was big enough to have some degree of gravity, and the gravitational fields that made the floor far below us adhere to our feet had some draw even this far away.