by Sean O'Brien
“Law,” she began softly, “you might think you have some special prerogative with me, since you are the only father to two of my children….”
His eyes widened and she nodded in confirmation, then continued. “…And, truthfully, you probably do. But not in this.”
“Yallia, you don’t understand. I…I know something. I’ve kept it secret for too long as it is because….” he didn’t finish.
Yallia filled the silence. “There’s a spy among us,” she said, and grinned as Lawson’s eyes widened. “And I know who it is.”
“How long have you known?”
“Not long. Since the attack on the Beagle.”
Lawson didn’t answer immediately. He studied her face for a long moment before muttering, “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing, now. Franc is in the Assembly room—he’s not going anywhere.”
“Kahlman?” Lawson spluttered.
“Of course. Who did you think it was?”
“I….” Again, Lawson didn’t answer but instead lowered his eyes. He was wrestling with something—that much was obvious. Yallia decided to soothe his inner turmoil.
“It’s all right, Law. I know you feel responsible for Viktur’s death. You’re thinking if you had told me of your suspicions before the trip, he would be alive now. But don’t you see, we needed this to happen.”
He looked up suddenly and began to speak, but Yallia stopped him. “I am sorry Viktur is dead, but his death will mean action. It will not have been in vain. We’ll smash the terraforming stations inside of thirteen hours, before the Domers know what’s hitting them.”
Lawson continued looking at her. When he spoke, it was a husky whisper. “You are an amazing woman, Yallia. I wish….” He fumbled for words. “I wish I could be like you.”
“Don’t,” she said. “You are like me.” And she leaned in and kissed him.
When they parted some seconds later, she spoke fondly. “We need to go back in now. The vote will be unanimous. Afterward, I’ll put Kahlman in isolation where he won’t be able to report back on our decision. When the attack is over, the Assembly will decide what to do with the traitor.” She started back in, but Lawson remained in the hall. “Coming?”
“I just—in a minute. There’s a lot I have to adjust to.”
“All right,” she said, then entered the Assembly room.
The vote was, indeed, unanimous. Yallia put herself in the attack group, which included a high number of Originals. Evidently hers was not the only score to settle with the Domers, she thought. Volunteer soldiers from the ranks of the Family had been drawn up some time ago, and the armed forces organization table had been prepared. Yallia resisted the urge to displace one of the tactical group leaders—her strength was strategy, not tactics. During the Session, Yallia saw Lawson’s expression remain pained, especially when she placed herself on the assault team, but he did not speak out against her. Other Originals seemed to be content to let Lawson’s silence speak for them, and the Session continued smoothly. When all had been prepared, Yallia adjourned the meeting and called Kahlman over.
“Franc, I need to see you. We’ll talk at our house,” she said. Together, they walked back to the farm. At some point along the way, two young members of the Family police force fell in behind them. Yallia noticed them but made no comment. Lawson walked behind them. Yallia shrugged mentally. Lawson must have alerted the police during his time in the hallway. No matter.
When they entered the farm, Yallia took Kahlman to the meeting room. Lawson and the two police officers started to follow, but Yallia waved them off. “I’ll meet with Franc for a moment in private, first,” she said. Lawson started to object, but Yallia cut him off. “I’ll be fine, Law. Just a few minutes.” She closed the door and turned to Kahlman. He had seated himself in one of the conference chairs and looked at her with an expression of mild surprise.
“How may I serve you, Madame Prime?”
Yallia took a deep breath. She was not sure how he would react and found herself glad the police officers were outside.
Yallia came out of the meeting room a few minutes later and closed the door behind her. She turned to the burly officers and said, “I need Mr. Kahlman to stay inside until I return. If I do not return, Mr. Lawson has authority.”
The police officers looked at each other nervously. These were obviously Family members who had only recently been appointed—Lawson must have deputized them only a few hours ago. Yallia continued. “He won’t give you any trouble, but he must not be allowed to leave this room. No one is to enter until I come back.”
One of the officers said stiffly, “Yes, ma’am.” Then he added, “Good luck, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Yallia turned to Lawson. “You are not going with us on the mission.” She ignored his raised eyebrows. “I need you to stay here and lead the Family if I am killed. You must hold elections for a new Prime. One thing I ask—do not take any action against Kahlman until I come back. Leave him to me.”
Lawson nodded but did not look at her. Yallia started to reach out to touch him again, but drew back. “I’ll be back, Law. Go and help assemble the troops, please. I want to attack tonight.”
“What are you going to do?” Lawson asked.
“I need to talk to Sirra before I go.”
Lawson started back towards the city, where even now the first volunteers were reporting in for the raid.
Yallia watched him go, then brushed past the two sentries at the door of the meeting room on her way upstairs to Sirra’s room.
Sirra and Emme were inside. “Grandonly!” Sirra said and rushed her. Sirra hugged her tight around the legs while Yallia patted her back.
Yallia looked at Emme. “Where is everyone?”
“Some are still here, but most are back at their own farms. We all heard the announcement from the Originals’ Council. Lots of your children and onlies are volunteering.”
“But not you,” Yallia said, her voice neutral.
“No.” She stared at Yallia for a moment, then added, “Someone needs to stay behind to help raise the children.”
“The raid will not take longer than a few hours, Emme.”
“Many of you will be killed,” Emme said. Yallia felt Sirra let go of her legs.
She looked down at Sirra and said, “No, we won’t, Sirra. That’s what I came to tell you.”
“You’re going to die?” Sirra asked, her eyes moist.
“No. I can’t tell you why, but Grandonly has fixed things. None of us will die.”
“Don’t tell her that,” Emme said angrily. “You’ve already shown her death by violence—why hide it from her now?”
Yallia felt the sting of her words but did not dispute them. She did not feel like arguing the point that she was not responsible for the Dome’s attack on the skiff. “Emme, listen. This isn’t just an onlymother’s soothing words. I have fixed things.”
“How?”
Yallia sighed. “I can’t tell you. But we will all be back. I promise.”
Emme looked at her onlymother and thought, not for the first time, how different they were. Genetically identical, of course, but with different experiences. “Yallia, you don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t start that. The Family is under attack. We—”
“I mean you. You personally.”
Yallia did not answer.
“You’re not a soldier.”
“None of us are.”
“But you are the leader of the Family.”
“All the more reason I should be in the attacking force.”
Sirra spoke up suddenly. “Grandonly, don’t go.”
Yallia stroked her hair. “I have to.”
Emme exploded. “You won’t prove anything! You can destroy all the Dome installations you want, and it won’t change what happened to you!”
Yallia was spared an answer by Sirra’s gentle question. “What happened to you, Grandonly?”
At that moment, despite the fres
h memory of Viktur’s death, despite the fear that her Grandonly would die in some unknown fashion, Sirra sought to relieve whatever pain her Grandonly felt, even if she could not understand it.
“Something happened a long time ago. When I was a girl, like you.”
“You are a girl like me.”
Yallia smiled. “A little girl.”
“What was it?”
Yallia paused to think away some of her emotion. “My mother sent me away.”
“Why?”
“I don’t really know. She thought she was doing something important.”
“I love you, Grandonly. I don’t want you to go away.” Sirra hugged her again, then added, “Did your mommy send you out of the Domes?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go back there?”
“No, of course not,” Yallia said, thinking that Sirra had asked a question far more complex than she realized.
To her shock, Sirra said, “I think we should live with the Dome people.”
“What?” Yallia said, taking the girl’s arms from her legs and squatting down next to her.
“We should live together. They should come out or we should go in. I don’t know why we live apart.”
“We can’t, dear.”
“Why not?”
Yallia hesitated and looked at Emme. Emme stared back at her, faintly challenging.
Sirra continued. “We could live with the fishes, too.”
“The fishes?”
“Yes. I think…I think that would be a good idea.” Sirra said. As she spoke, her eyes unfocused slightly and she trailed off.
Yallia looked at her for a moment, then stood up. “I have to go. But I will be back soon. Take care.” She hesitated, then approached her onlydaughter. The two embraced for a long moment.
“Come back,” Emme whispered. “For her.”
Yallia left the farm to join the raiding party.
Hours later, Lawson, Yallia, and some of the other Originals had marshaled the troops into their three sections of sixty each. None wore uniforms, although Yallia saw occasional colorful armbands signifying rank on some of the soldiers. Each section was in ragged ranks, casually policed by a blue-armbanded soldier. Six flatbed halftracks sat nearby, their solar collectors folded against their sides. It was already dusk—the yellow-green sunset cast a mustard-emerald pallor over the scene.
“Everything is ready, Madame Prime,” Lawson said. “Section commanders have all reported in. The transports are in operational order, and all weapons are prepared. Uh….” He searched the assembled force for more to report on, but Yallia stopped him.
“Good. I’m sure the section commanders have everything under control. Which section am I in?”
Lawson pointed, and Yallia squeezed his arm before trotting off to join her group. As she settled in the ranks, she felt a wave of relief settle over her. Here, she was just another soldier—she had, for the moment, no responsibilities. She looked forward to the next few hours as the section made its way towards its target under someone else’s command. There would be much for her to do soon, but just now, she relaxed.
“Section Two!” she heard her section commander bawl, “Board your transports!” The men and woman scrambled onto the halftracks designated Section Two. In a few minutes, all the troops had boarded their transports, most of them sitting in the open bed in the backs. The electric engines started up with an almost inaudible hum, and they were off.
Yallia did not look at Lawson as her transport rumbled by. She could not continue her façade any longer.
The transports covered distance steadily, losing little speed over rough terrain. Yallia did not speak to the other soldiers. There was an invisible sphere around her into which they would not enter, and none of them initiated conversation with her. Their own conversations were mostly speculations about the attack on the skiff and what the Domers would do as a reaction to the current raid.
“They’ll have to surrender,” one of the soldiers was saying in response to his companion’s opinion. “With the atmosphere project disrupted, they’ll realize that they haven’t a chance to live here.”
“You’re wrong,” his fellow soldier said, her voice a rich contralto. “They’ll try and attack our city with their flyers. Anyway, there are plenty of Dome installations around the globe—destroying one won’t disrupt the atmosphere project enough to—”
“Sure it will!”
“Look, you domed moron, do know how many years this project is gonna take if we were to let it happen? About sixty more years,” she said, smugly answering her own question. “We have to get them all before the Domers will even think about negotiating terms.”
“You’re full of it. You think to Domers have the stomach for a fight? They can’t even breathe out here.”
“That’s why they’ll send their flyers. And who knows what else they’ve got.”
The male soldier grunted. “They haven’t got nothing. They barely have an army, I’ll bet. This will be as easy as salt,” he said, and settled back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head with an air of finality.
His female debate partner looked at him for a moment, then shook her head. Her eye caught Yallia’s and she seemed about to ask something but did not.
Yallia prompted her. “You have a comment, soldier?”
The woman’s tongue darted out for a second and touched her upper lip, then withdrew. She said, “Well, yeah. But I don’t mean anything by it, ma’am.”
“Go ahead.”
“Well,” she paused, then blurted, “don’t you think we should have left some troops behind? In case the Domers attack?”
“They won’t.”
The woman chafed. “Uh, no offense, ma’am, but how do you know that? I mean, we’ll be way out at one of the terraforming installations. If they’ve got their flyers and whatever else at the Domes, we won’t be able to get back in time to defend the city.”
“True, but we won’t be at the terraforming installation.”
Yallia saw those nearby soldiers who heard the comment turn to look at her in surprise. Yallia did not give them time to ask what she meant, but instead excused herself and made her way towards the control cab of her transport. She stopped outside the window and knocked.
The relief driver looked behind him in annoyance. When he recognized the face behind the glass, he fumbled to open the window. “Yes, Madame Prime?”
“I need to speak to the section commander.”
The relief driver blinked, then reached for the transmitter on the control panel. “Section Two lead transport, this is Transport Two-Two.”
“Two-One here.”
The relief driver glanced nervously at Yallia, and said, “Uh, I need Commander Didosken. Now.”
There was a pause and Didosken’s voice came over the speaker. “Didosken here.”
The relief driver handed the transmitter to Yallia through the cab window. Yallia had to shout to make herself heard over the wind. “This is Prime Original Yallia. Commander, we have a change in battle plans. All transports will redirect towards Valhalla Dome.”
“Madame Prime? Did I hear you correctly? You are changing targets?” Didosken asked.
“You heard correctly, Commander. Issue what orders you need to, but we are attacking the Dome itself. But, Commander?” She paused for emphasis. “You are not, under any circumstances, to contact the Family to inform them of the change. I repeat: do not tell the Family of the change.”
There was a considerable pause from the other end. Yallia sighed. She did not want to have to get nasty with this man, but it might be necessary if he balked at the change in order. Yallia knew she was trying to use the very idolatry she claimed to reject as leverage, but at the moment, she felt it necessary.
Didosken came back on. His voice sounded distant. “Orders understood, Madame Prime. I’ll devise a new battle plan and get back to you. Didosken out.”
“No need to get back to me. When you devise your battle plan
, factor in minimal resistance from the Dome.”
“Minimal resistance, Madame Prime? With all due respect, I think—”
“Dome troops are in the installations, Commander. The Domes themselves will be lightly defended, if at all.”
“As you say, Madame Prime.” He paused, then said, “New estimated travel time is two hours.”
“Very good. Good-bye.” Yallia handed the relief driver the transmitter. “Thanks,” she said, and made her way back to her place in the bed of the halftrack. All around her she heard the news spreading, first as unbelieving questions, then as confirmed data.
She sat back down in her seat and let the conversations flow.
The female soldier that had spoken to her earlier finally addressed her directly. “Madame Prime?”
“Yes?”
“Are we…uh, did you…?”
“Don’t worry, soldier. You didn’t talk me into anything. This was always the plan.”
“It was?”
“Yes. I just…kept it secret for a while.” She sat back, mimicking the gesture the male soldier had made to end the conversation, and thought of Kahlman and Lawson back in the city.
The revised battle plan had been told to the troops only half an hour before the transports arrived at the Domes. Yallia listened with half an ear as the lieutenant on the transport detailed directions to the assembled troops. It wouldn’t matter if the plan was well-conceived or not—the Domes would be caught completely unprepared. Almost two hundred Family soldiers massed outside with explosives would be enough to make the Domers listen. And if necessary, a demonstration of Family resolve would force the Domers to their knees.
Valhalla Dome was smaller than Yallia thought it would be. She knew its dimensions from careful study, but those numbers had not translated into the awesome presence she had expected. In fact, the Dome looked shabby and bleached, no doubt a by-product of years of exposure to the withering chlorine atmosphere.
Yallia heard the force commanders shouting instructions to their troops. She stared at the Dome for a moment longer, then strode towards one of the transports that had been unpacked and now served as a communications base for the attack.
Three young Family soldiers bent over communications gear, listening intently and cross-routing information to officers. Yallia waited a moment, then caught the eye of one of the operators. “Pardon me, young man, but I wonder if I might have one of your transmitters for a while.”
