Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights (25 page)

He dismounted with half a squad and scoured the scene on foot with Atiana by his side. The gleasons had, indeed, hidden in individual holes beside the road, and there wasn’t a single person on the caravan still alive.

This type of coordinated attack added a whole new dimension to gleason behavior. Havlock was reasonably certain recordings from the shuttle would find that a distant gleason had given the attack order at the appropriate time. Some 40 gleasons had risen up only a few meters from their targets, completely invisible. He wondered if the defenders had even had time to fire on them.

The men with him suffered as much as he did, but any counseling they needed would have to come later. He boarded Hawke’s shuttle and went to the bridge. There, Hawke had turned the ship over to the other pilot and had left the net. He was visibly shaking.

“Report, Marine,” Havlock ordered, knowing Hawke needed some structure back in his life.

Eyes rose to meet Havlock’s, then they shifted between him and Atiana. “I’m sorry, sir. It happened so fast there was nothing we could do. That was my squad down there.”

“They were my friends too, including Trader Kratzn and Lieutenant Fogel. Don’t beat yourself up for what the enemy did. Let’s figure out what happened so we can let the other caravans know. What can we do better?”

“We’ve been scouting in the immediate area of the caravans, but clearly we missed a development here. We need to start looking farther ahead to see what the gleasons are up to, and we need to make recordings and study them to discover patterns of movement. The ambush was over in seconds, far quicker than we could respond in any meaningful way, but it took a lot of preparation.”

Havlock turned to Galborae. “Here they are, acting together in accordance with a plan—again. They’re a lot smarter than we ever gave them credit for. This was a battle, and they beat us.”

“You said yourself that no one knows much about them. We’ve learned a hard lesson.”

“It ups the ante considerably. Our job just got a lot harder.”

“Sir,” the pilot called, “you should see this.”

They went into the net and joined the pilot. His focus was a life-force target a few miles away from the attack site. When the pilot switched to visual, a red shawl hung in the air. The invisible arm from which the shawl hung gave the impression it was pointing directly at the shuttle.

Havlock and Galborae looked at each other, their thoughts reaching the same conclusion.

“We’ve badly underestimated them,” Havlock said in amazement. “This ambush was part of a message. He’s telling me, ‘I wasn’t ready to talk. Now I am.’”

“Not here. Not now,” Galborae urged.

“No, not here. I’d be walking into another ambush. We’ll set the meeting place.” Looking at Hawke, he said, “This was my mistake, not yours. I underestimated the enemy, one of the most fundamental mistakes we marines are supposed to avoid. I won’t repeat it.”

He prepared a message, then flew over the gleason and broadcast the message
:
“Not today. Meet me outside the gates of the city in three days. Come alone.”

* * * * *

Later that evening he asked Atiana for advice. “We can’t leave the remains of the caravan there. What’s the best way to clean it up? The transporter can laser everything—it’s like burning. Will that satisfy your customs?”

She considered. “We like to let families say goodbye to their loved ones when we can, and we try to honor the fallen, but in this case the damages are too gruesome. I approve burning them.”

* * * * *

Havlock walked out the front gate with Galborae by his side, both of them fully armed. They walked three kilometers down the road and waited. After a time, a red shawl bobbed in the air near the tree line. It approached them from across a field at a walking speed and stopped 50 meters away.

The gleason was the first to speak, calling across the intervening distance, “You have not come alone.”

Havlock had suspected this would be the first comment from the creature. He played a recorded message: “I did not say I would come alone. Even with two of us, we fear you. Our meeting will be more complete if you agree to wear a device that translates our language to yours. I’m leaving it here and backing away. Put it on your ear. This meeting is important to you.”

He drove an arrow into the ground with a translator attached and backed away. The cloak remained stationary in the air for a time, so he knew the gleason had not moved. If the cloak fell to the ground, they would know it was attacking. Hawke hovered high in the sky with weapons ready, but as always, there was no certainty he could stop an attack.

When the gleason moved, it chose a modest pace and the cloak remained in the air. Havlock and Galborae backed away, keeping the 50 meter separation constant. When the cloak reached the arrow, the arrow slid from the ground. The translator device moved through the air, then stopped, probably in position on the gleason’s ear.

“I have complied,” it shouted to them. “Why have you returned? We had an agreement.”

“You made an agreement with my enemy. I killed him. I am not bound by your agreement.”

The silence lasted a long time before a reply came from the gleason. “It changes nothing. Your presence makes our hunt even better. I accept your challenge.”

“The challenge will ultimately become intolerable to your people. I will soon have the resources to destroy all of you. I would rather find another solution.”

“Why? When we die, the rest of us share the ecstasy of dying just as we share in the ecstasy of a kill. Our greatest ecstasy comes from dying at the same time as our prey.”

Galborae and Havlock looked at each other in horror. Galborae was the first to grasp the full meaning of the gleason’s words. “He’s talking about gleasons who die slowly. They must all mentally share the experience. Tell him there can be no ecstasy from the death of one who dies instantly. We can change our tactics to kill each of them instantly.”

Havlock relayed the message.

The gleason waited a long time before replying. “There are too many of us.”

“I will bring more ships, more men. When I do, the killing will be instantaneous. There will be no ecstasy. That is your fate.”

More waiting before the gleason said, “Not my fate. My fate lies here, now.”

“I have another solution,” Havlock called. “Let me return all of you to your home world.”

This time the response came instantly. “Never! The ecstasy there is dark.”

Havlock’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I’m trying to understand what you want. You’re telling me that killing is the ultimate ecstasy and when one of you dies it provides ecstasy to the rest of you as it’s dying. With your mind link and all the killing here, your people must be in a constant state of ecstasy.”

“Our coming here has provided unlimited satisfaction.”

“Do you understand that to us living is the ultimate ecstasy?”

“You make no sense.”

“Then let me put it this way: what you find most pleasing we find most displeasing. Our goals are opposite each other.”

“Knowing that just improves the ecstasy.”

“Is there any way for us to coexist?”

“Yes. The longer your kind lives, the longer we share ecstasy. Fight us well.”

“Under your plan, your children will ultimately run out of people to kill. What then?”

“They will have to accept a lower level of ecstasy by taking other creatures.”

“And what happens when everything on the planet is dead except yourselves?”

“That is why we left our home world. It is not my problem.”

Havlock changed the subject. “Do all other gleasons on this world hear our conversation?”

“No. My thoughts are relayed from one to another but they do not reach across the seas.”

“Let them know I will fight you with every fiber of my being.”

“We hope for no less.”

Without warning the red cloak dropped to the ground. Havlock and Galborae fired stunners, and the ground erupted as the shuttle fired multiple weapons, but the gleason managed to dodge all of them. Fifty meters is not much separation when it’s a gleason on the other end. It fell upon them, and the ship could no longer intervene. Galborae took the first hit, a strike to the torso from the invisible creature. His uniform prevented the claws from piercing, but he went flying.

Havlock reacted the moment he saw the attack on Galborae, firing his blaster and taking a leg off the gleason. Limam was on it a moment later as it fell fully visible just a few feet away. It was back up in an instant, its teeth bared. It ripped Limam from its neck and flung her away, its neck spurting blood from her bite. Havlock fired again. His shot struck the gleason in the midsection and threw it backwards, but it was up again in an instant, leaping on its remaining leg and arms toward him. Havlock, the horror of what awaited him overwhelming rational thought, fired again from very close range, taking off an arm that rose with a knife, then the creature was on him. The creature clamped its teeth down on his upper arm, its three remaining arms wrapping around him with claws extended. He fell on his back and brought his feet to his chest, then kicked with everything he had, terror doubling his strength.

The gleason was too strong. It’s grip only tightened. It lowered its head and locked gazes with Havlock, then lifted its head to the sky howling in delight, savoring as it delayed the killing bite.

Suddenly Havlock was covered in blood. The gleason’s head flew away as Galborae’s sword separated it from its body. When Havlock came to his senses, he pushed the body away and rolled over, vomiting. Galborae lay collapsed beside him, gasping for breath with his inert sword laying beside him.

The shuttle settled beside them and a squad deployed around them. Sergeant Kori raced down the ramp, focusing first on Havlock. The blood threw her off for a time, but she completed a rapid assessment and called for two marines to place him on a floater. She went to Galborae, made another quick assessment, and loaded him onto another floater. Everyone was back inside the shuttle within a minute of its landing.

* * * * *

Havlock awoke in sick bay after three days in a tank. Atiana paced beside his bed, unaware that he was awake. He studied her through narrowed eyes for a time, then said, “Your Majesty.”

She spun around, a hand reaching out to him, then she froze. The hand slowly dropped to her side as she replied, “Sky Lord.” Her back straightened in formality, but her eyes danced between alarm and relief.

He studied her, then he reached an arm out to her.

She took the few steps to the side of his bed and reached for his hand, her body language softening when they touched. “I was told you were alive, but I feared you might not awaken.”

“I’m sorry to have worried you so.”

“The choice to worry is mine. What you did was stupid.”

His eyebrows rose. “Maybe. Maybe not. At least you know I’m committed.”

“Well, don’t be so committed. Besides, I was in the dream with you. I already knew you were committed.”

“In that case, I’ll try harder to worry you less.”

Her lips firmed for a moment, then she gave in and sat on the bed. “See that you do. I don’t want to have to train a new Sky Lord.”

“Then I’ll not disappoint you. How is Galborae?”

She dropped his hand, the lightness that had come into her eyes disappearing. “He’s in a tank. I’m told he’ll survive, but seven of his ribs are broken and there are other internal injuries. By rights, both of you should be dead. It was a foolish stunt.”

Havlock shook his head at the thought of seven broken ribs all at the same time, but the screaming from his wounded arm made him wonder if more time in a tank wouldn’t be a relief for him as well.

“Not a stunt, Your Majesty. Actually, we succeeded beyond our wildest imaginings. That said, I agree: we should both be dead.” He touched the cast on his left arm, the arm the gleason had bitten. “My uniform saved me.”

“It didn’t save you from broken bones. I’m told they’re partially crushed. Without your healers, your wound would be fatal. How can you possibly call that success?”

His lips firmed. “We learned from the gleason. We now understand what it’s doing and why it’s doing it. I need time to think about it, but because of what we learned, we’ll come up with a better strategy.”

She took his hand in both of her own, hands which were not the soft hands of a princess but the hard hands of a soldier. “You’ll not define that strategy on your own,” she said. “I will be a part of it. For the moment, though, you need to stand down.”

“Stand down? Hardly! I need to get back to work.”

She lifted his hand to her lips and, looking into his eyes, kissed it. She lowered her gaze to his hand and traced the lines on it with her fingertips, then raised blue eyes back to his own. “Gar,” she said softly, “I, too, have stood face to face with a gleason. I know what lies before you. The memory haunts me every single day.”

He’d been avoiding that recollection. Now he closed his eyes and relived the abject terror of the moment. It filled him to the brim, pushing out everything else. He stared into the gleason’s hungry eyes for as long as he could, its razor-sharp teeth preparing to rip his throat out, then he pushed the thought away. When he opened his eyes to her again, he felt her need to share the feeling. Too, he felt her sympathy.