by Gregg Vann
“That happens today.
“I know that many of you have seen strange looking soldiers in the streets—people with physical characteristics and clothing very different from your own. You’ve also probably observed the unfamiliar animals they’re using…the horses. They are all from the Olin, man and animal alike. The second ship survived the journey to Torvus and I found it. I know how fantastic this all sounds, and it’s only reasonable to harbor doubts, but I assure you that the people battling the Collective army are my allies. And they’re yours as well. I know that you are afraid; I understand that. But we are not here to conquer you. We are here to free you. You must believe me when I say there’s so much you just don’t know—and so much more the Collective has lied to you about…
“So I ask the people of Le’sant to trust me now, to join with us to free this city from half a millennium of oppression. I promise you: you will gain real freedom this time, the kind you deserve. And I also ask the members of the Collective army to reconsider why they fight…and for whom. Any of you who surrender to our forces will not be harmed. And those who choose to fight at our side will be rewarded, with true independence.”
Barent paused, steadying his gaze to stare directly at the camera.
“Look out your windows. Take a good look at the city. Le’sant is burning. And those fires have no respect for man-made boundaries—physical or social. Even if your lives are comfortable, and you think you have no reason to act, think again. This war will not go away, and the Collective can’t sweep the disenfranchised back under the rug. Not this time. Change is coming. The flames and bullets from this conflict will spread all the way to the Central District if they aren’t stopped. And no one, no matter how immune they think they are, will escape the destruction. This war is coming for us all, and I promise that every single citizen will suffer because it. So it must end now, through victory. And when the fighting is over, we can all work together to put out the fires. Before it becomes too late, and the entire city is engulfed.
“I implore you, in the name of the First Ones, to help us stop this madness. Stop the fighting. Stop the killing. Help me end this war so we can save our city. Do it now, or we will all surely perish.”
Corporal Ennis sensed Barent was finished speaking and cut the transmission. “I’ll need to push this out to the Collective troops as a recorded message,” he said. “They can’t receive live broadcasts in the field.”
“Do it,” Barent replied. “And then we need to get back in the fight.” He looked over at Tana. “So what did you think? I’m afraid I’m not much of a politician.”
“You were… It was great, Barent. And Le’sant doesn’t need a politician right now, it needs you.”
He heard the raw emotion in Tana’s voice, and Barent realized that his speech had affected her. But he felt something in his own chest as well, because he’d meant every single word of it—especially about the friends he’d lost in that first war, long ago. Barent just hoped his sincerity was evident to the people of Le’sant.
“It’s away,” Ennis announced, and then he stood up and grabbed his rifle off the console.
“Then let’s get back out in the streets and see if it did any good,” Barent said. “And we’ll gather up what coalition troops we can along the way to assist Sergeant Dura.”
It only took a few minutes for them to regroup inside the APC, and then they began moving toward the Common Ring again. From his perch atop the vehicle, Barent noted that even more fires had broken out during the short time they were inside the hub—and most of them appeared to be in the Middle District. He looked away from the hazy skyline and shook his head in frustration, realizing that if something didn’t change soon, it really wouldn’t matter who won the war.
Because Le’sant would be gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The Last Stand
Barent’s unit made their way straight down the midline of the city, heading south via a major thoroughfare bisecting the Middle District. During the dangerous journey they’d witnessed the signs of struggle everywhere, encountering more than a dozen abandoned Collective roadblocks. But the majority of the fighting had moved off to the east and west now, as Sergeant Dura’s reinforcements continued to pull the enemy forces away, executing their part of the plan to isolate and attack General Malves.
Even though the bulk of the Collective troops were involved in battles out on the periphery of Le’sant, there were still plenty of enemy soldiers left in their path. And some of the engagements Barent’s unit had been drawn into were decidedly vicious. But fortunately, his original group of five was no longer alone. In fact, the further south they travelled, the larger Barent’s force seemed to grow.
Soon after departing the data hub, Barent had noticed the streets becoming more and more crowded, filling up with the citizens of Le’sant. The people were leaving their homes for the first time since the fighting began, venturing out from the relative safety of their buildings in response to Barent’s message. Many of them called out his name when they spotted Barent riding atop the APC.
Some of the people had immediately begun to fight the fires, spinning out hoses from municipal emergency stations. But Barent saw others grabbing weapons off the bodies in the streets. And those citizens, along with many others, began following closely behind Barent’s APC—and fighting bravely at his side when they met resistance during the trek through Le’sant.
A few of the Collective soldiers they encountered joined the group as well, abandoning their posts, and stripping off their uniform jackets to distinguish themselves from Collective loyalists. The soldiers were a welcome addition to Barent’s unit. Not only because they were well armed and had formal training, but also because of the possibility those troops represented. If Barent’s message had resonated enough with those soldiers to switch sides, then he hoped others might end up being swayed by it as well.
Some in Barent’s entourage were apprehensive about the Collective defectors, concerned about their fickle allegiances. But the unlikely allies had proven their worth almost immediately, helping to organize Barent’s mob into a more cohesive fighting force. And their presence and support made the march through the city far easier than it would have been otherwise.
By the time they reached the end of the Middle District, one of the Olin from Barent’s original group had been badly injured during a brutal firefight. And their APC had taken heavy damage, severely limiting its speed and maneuverability. But there were now thousands of citizens at the Great Betrayer’s side, ready to fight with him. Along with hundreds of ex-Collective soldiers, and the few coalition troops they’d picked up enroute.
Word went out over the comms that Sergeant Dura’s forces had finally pinned Malves down in the Common Ring, and as Barent’s vehicle drew closer to the border, he saw Olin and Exile alike moving in that direction. There were still major battles raging all over the city, and Barent even heard reports of fighting within the Central District now, but he knew that this was where it would all be decided. Here, with General Malves. These next few moments would dictate how this war ended. And who—if anyone—would emerge victorious.
They increased their pace in anticipation, and less than fifteen minutes after Dura’s message was broadcast, Barent’s forces approached his position. He spotted his fellow Warden walking up to greet them and Barent hopped off the APC.
“It’s good to see you, sir,” Dura said.
“You as well, Sergeant. What’s the situation?”
“This is as close as we’ve been able to get to Malves,” he replied, pointing down the road toward a wall of wrecked APCs and other debris the Collective had used to blockade the street. “We’ve been trying to tighten the noose, but it’s going to get pretty damn hairy from here on in. General Malves is dug in hard, sir. And he shows no signs of giving up.”
Sergeant Dura looked at the diverse collection of people trickling in from behind Barent’s APC, and he nodded in their direction. “I’ve heard reports of
this happening all over the city thanks to your broadcast. The people have had enough, Sergeant Barent. They know this needs to end.”
“But not General Malves,” Barent stated, confirming what he already knew to be true.
“No, sir. It’s my belief that he intends to go out fighting.”
“Let me try to speak to him directly, Sergeant. Malves and I developed something of a rapport while I was their guest at the Ministry building. Maybe I can get through to him.”
Barent’s suggestion caught Sergeant Dura completely by surprise, but he quickly recovered. “I see… Well, I’ve cycled through every command channel available to us, sir—numerous times, in fact. But the general refuses to answer on any of them.”
“I think he’ll talk to me,” Barent said. Then he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Deploy these troops and civilians as you see fit, Sergeant, while I try to contact the general.”
“Yes, sir. And use channel 28, it’s your best bet.”
“Understood.”
Tana and Corporal Ennis followed Dura over to his makeshift command post—little more than a tarp overhang stretched between two captured APCs—while Barent stepped away from the crowd, finding some privacy next to a partially collapsed building. He keyed open the command channel Dura recommended and took a deep breath. “General Malves. This is Sergeant Barent. Please respond.”
After a long period of silence, Barent opened his mouth to try again, but the comm went active before he got the chance. Malves’ voice was strong, and full of confidence—just as a general’s should be. He knew he was trapped in a hopeless predicament, but his spirit clearly remained unbroken.
“It’s no use, Sergeant Barent. We will not surrender. I already have troops coming in from other parts of the city to relieve my unit. This isn’t over.”
“Not nearly as many troops as you think, General Malves. And they won’t get here soon enough to save you—you know that. You have to be getting the same reports as we are from across Le’sant. The people are on our side, General, and they want this war to end. Now. Even some of your own soldiers have joined us, and more are coming over every minute. Face it, General: you’ve lost this war. It is over. If you force us to come in and get you it will be bloody. And more deaths won’t solve anything. You must surrender…now. Stop the fighting, and command your troops to help us put out the fires. If you don’t, Le’sant will be lost to the flames. Take a look around, General Malves. You know that I’m right. And we don’t have much time left to act.”
There was no reply, neither acquiescence nor defiance. Nothing at all, except for silence, and a faint hint of static. Barent checked the channel and confirmed it was still active. Then he softened his tone before speaking again.
“It’s not too late to end this, General Malves—to mitigate the damage and salvage the city. As I told you at the Ministry building, it’s never too late to do what’s right.”
“You’re wrong, Sergeant Barent. It is too late…for me. But maybe not for my men. Can you guarantee that they will be treated fairly if I agree to your demands?”
“I can, and I will. You will all be treated with respect, General. Order your soldiers to stand down and start fighting the fires. No one will interfere with them, I promise you that.”
“Then I will issue those orders, Sergeant. And Barent…”
“Yes, General?”
“I want your word, soldier to soldier, that you will personally make sure my family doesn’t suffer for what I’ve done. They are blameless in all of this, Sergeant Barent, and shouldn’t be held accountable for my failings.”
“I give you my personal assurance that no one will harm them, General. And that you will receive just treatment as well. It will be up to the people of Le’sant to decide your fate.”
“No, Sergeant. I have decided that for myself. I’ve already prepared a final testament for the Vade, and will give it to my second-in-command to deliver into your hands. I readied myself for this moment long ago, Sergeant Barent. Working alongside Minister Golen for so many years taught me how capricious and fragile life can be. I knew this day would eventually come, and I’m ready for it.”
“There is no reason for you to die, General Malves.”
“Oh, you’re wrong, Sergeant. There are many, many reasons for me to die. And I won’t hide behind Golen’s guilt. I accept full responsibility for my actions, and will attend to my own punishment for them. Goodbye, Sergeant Barent. Meeting you was truly an honor for me. I only wish that the circumstances had been much different. My unit, and the rest of the Collective army, will stand down within the next few minutes.”
The connection suddenly went dead and Barent worked to open the channel again. But no matter how many times he tried, it refused to connect. He reluctantly accepted General Malves’ fate, knowing there was nothing he could do about it anyway, and then Barent started making his way toward the command post. He heard his name ring out in conversation as he drew nearer to it, recognizing Sergeant Dura’s voice.
“Nice work rescuing Barent. I was afraid they’d already killed him.”
“Actually,” Tana replied. “He rescued himself. We found him pounding the hell out of a Collective roadblock near the border of the Central District.”
“We fought our way through that roadblock together,” Barent interrupted, stepping up underneath the tarp to join them. “And that’s exactly how we’re going to finish this war too.”
They listened attentively as Barent detailed his conversation with General Malves, and just as he finished, a Collective soldier stepped out from behind the barricade with his hands in the air.
“Hold your fire!” Dura yelled to his troops.
The soldier began walking toward them, and Barent pushed his way through the crowd to meet the man, immediately noting the deep look of sorrow on his face. From his expression, it looked like the soldier’s will had been completely sapped away. And at first, Barent believed it was the shame of defeat that had left him so badly shaken. But when the soldier finally spoke, Barent uncovered the real reason.
“General Malves is dead,” he said. “By his own hand. And his final order to me was to help you put an end to this conflict and save the city. I intend to do that, Sergeant Barent.”
The soldier reached down into his pocket, and several guns—those not already pointed at him—swung in his direction. But Barent held up his hand to signal that everything was okay. The soldier noticed the heightened tension, and slowly, carefully, pulled out a data disk.
“This is General Malves’ final testament for the Vade, Sergeant Barent. I was instructed to deliver it directly to you. And you alone.”
Barent took the small disk and looked it over for a moment, carefully considering the object that represented the sum value of Malves’ life. Decades of deeds and misdeeds, chronicled for all eternity. He dropped it into one of the pockets on his combat jacket and sealed it shut.
“Before he died,” the soldier continued, “General Malves ordered all of our forces in the city to lay down their arms and begin fighting the fires. But that would be much easier if your troops stood down as well.”
Barent nodded back at Sergeant Dura—following the conversation closely from behind him—and he issued the necessary orders over the comm.
“What’s your name, soldier?” Barent asked the man.
“Commander Cernes, sir.”
“Commander, please finalize the cessation of hostilities with Sergeant Dura, and then I want the two of you to coordinate our combined personnel and resources to get these damn fires out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Behind Commander Cernes, Barent noticed that the blockade was already being dismantled. The Collective soldiers were using their vehicles to push everything off to the side of the road, opening up the street. When it finally became passable, the people of Le’sant joined the Collective troops, along with the Olin and Exiles, to begin fighting the nearby fires.
As word of the ceasefire spread, emergen
cy vehicles started rolling out from where they’d been stationed across the city—ambulances and fire-suppression platforms rushing toward the many scenes of destruction. The sound of sirens replaced the staccato of gunfire as the citizens of Le’sant worked together to save everything they had.
Tana and Barent stood side-by-side in the command post as those abrupt changes in priorities unfolded, watching as Sergeant Dura and Commander Cernes directed their respective resources to the parts of the city with the greatest need. Dura stood up a little straighter as a report came in over his headset, and then he turned to look at Barent.
“One of the Olin just found S’to’s body in the Middle District, sir. They said it looked like he put up one hell of a fight before they took him down.”
“I think we’ll hear a thousand such stories by the time we count up all the dead,” Barent replied. He tried to keep the morose tone from seeping into his voice, but with so many people killed, it was impossible. “Still no word on Golen?” he asked Dura.
But Commander Cernes answered instead. “No, sir. And General Malves was quite specific with me that the minister be brought to justice. The general told me Golen’s crimes are detailed right along with his own in the final testament I gave you.”
Barent patted the pocket where he’d placed the disk, making sure it was still there. He knew there would probably be many trials in the future based on the information contained on it—tribunals and committees galore—along with all of the political strife that comes with forming a new government. And all of that turmoil would be in addition to the short-term food and housing problems they faced, and the long-term solutions they’d have to devise to meet the ongoing needs of the people. But as Barent watched the reports come in indicating that everyone was working together to save the city, regardless of faction, he believed that one way or another, it was all going to be okay. A lot of hard work lay ahead of them, no doubt. But it would be done right this time. He’d make sure of it.
