“We will give them what they want. The eastern quarter.”
She wasn’t surprised by the clamor that went up at that. But she was pleased by the cry that silenced it, from Rayden once more.
“Let him speak!” the boy shouted, echoing Tark’s words to him. “This is Tark, have you forgotten?” When he had quieted them, he turned back to Tark. “Finish telling them what will happen when the Coalition has invaded the east,” he asked.
For an instant, appearing almost bemused, Tark just looked at the boy. Rina smiled; Rayden was indeed much like Tark had been. An unusually aware soul.
“Then they will be within range of the new position of that cannon in the low hills,” Tark said. The hum that went around the room was incredulous. She couldn’t blame them, moving a fusion cannon was no small task. But Dax and his fighter had gotten it done, before he’d flown off to the mountain.
“And,” Tark added, “the cannon on the south line.”
“A trap!” Rayden exclaimed.
“And a crossfire,” Tark said. The boy grinned, let out a whoop. The young people around him joined in, and it set the tone for the rest of the crowd. And so turned tides, Rina thought.
Tark raised his gaze to the rest of them. “It will cost us much of that sector,” he warned. “I know many of you live there.”
“We will rebuild,” someone shouted.
“And it must not appear deserted,” Tark said, and Rina knew this was going to be the hardest part. “There must be signs of life, or they will guess it is a ruse. They are evil, and cruel, but judge them stupid at your peril.”
The only sound that broke the grim silence then was the group of youngsters, whispering among themselves.
“Anyone who is willing, I will take,” Tark said. “You will not be asked to stand and fight, just be seen. I cannot say it won’t be dangerous, we will likely draw their fire.”
“You go yourself?” Rayden asked.
“Yes.”
Rina knew his reason, knew that if this failed, there would be little he could do to save what remained of the city. Holding Galatin when he had the Evening Star here to control the air was one thing. Holding it when he had a single fighter to keep back a full invading force, even if manned by Dax, was another.
“And you?” the boy asked, shifting his gaze to Rina.
“I go with Tark,” she declared. Anywhere, she added silently. He glanced at her, his expression as warm as if he’d heard the unspoken word.
“Then take us!” Rayden exclaimed.
A clamor arose anew at the idea of these children doing what so many adults in this room were afraid to do. Tark hushed them much as Rayden had for him.
“Let him speak.” He echoed the boy’s words. He might not be a speechmaker, Rina thought, but he had instincts about people. He just didn’t have much faith in them.
“Why?” he asked the boy simply.
“We are from that sector. We grew up on those streets, we know the buildings. We know every place to hide, and what can be seen from where.”
Tark drew back slightly, surprised, Rina guessed, at the boy’s cogent description of exactly what would be needed.
“You need them lured in, do you not?” Rayden asked. “We can do that.”
“Arellia,” Tark said after a moment, “may just have a future after all.”
Chapter 51
THE STREETS WERE eerily silent as they dodged from shadow to shadow. The quiet before the storm, Rina thought. That it would be a vicious, destructive storm she had no doubts.
They’d gone over the plan in detail before they’d started out, especially with the children. They did not want to be seen moving to the east, it needed to appear as if they had always been there, as if they lived there and were only now fleeing.
They left people—including some adults who had been shamed into it by the courage of their own children—at various places—homes, other buildings along the way—to join in the observable “evacuation” once it began. Once they were all in place and the signal given, they wouldn’t hide, but would let themselves be seen, fleeing ahead of the advancing incursion.
The timing would be critical. They had to go fast enough to make it believable, yet slow enough to assure as many of the Coalition enemy as possible were crowded into the sector.
And then they had to escape, get clear before the cannon fire began. Keeping these children safe through it all was going to be the biggest challenge.
“They’re as bold as you were at the first Battle of Galatin,” Tark said as Rayden darted in front of them into the shadow of the next building. “And not much younger.”
“And here I am still,” she said serenely. “And ever will be.”
His arm slipped around her for a brief clasp. That he would do so now, in the midst of a critical mission, said much of how far they had come.
And then they froze as, in the distance, they heard a howl of sound. Ships. Transport size. They were landing.
The second wave had come to Galatin.
“YOU ARE QUITE insane, you know,” Crim observed mildly as they carefully set the armed torpedo in the pilot’s seat.
“Thank you,” Shaina said with a grin.
In the distance, the fight for Galatin had begun anew, and she had had to put out of her mind her worry about Rina, and Tark, who had quickly become part of the same worry.
This part of the battle had tilted in their favor, thanks in large part to her father’s skill and Larcos’s brilliant new fighter. On the forward front, Kateri and Lyon and their small force were trying to keep the Coalition from advancing, while her own contingent continued to decimate them from the rear. But the fighters holding the pass were far outnumbered, so she was taking a small group there to assist. She did not know how long they could hold them here. She only knew they had to. They had to hold, until her father’s ship arrived. Once the Evening Star and her weapons were here, everything would change.
And for the first time she had seen her father in real action, and she was more than a little awestruck. Hearing of his reputation her entire life was nothing compared to actually seeing him fight—fiercely, effectively, and yes, recklessly. He’d flown like that ship was part of him, darting, wheeling, racing forward and dropping back, appearing and then vanishing, until she guessed the Coalition fighters thought they were up against an entire fleet.
He’d kept those fighters off them, enabling them to continue to carve at the ground force from behind. They were divided now, fighting on two fronts, forward and rear; the damaged Coalition fighters had retreated toward the mother ship, and her father had momentarily departed on a mission for Tark over Galatin.
They themselves had had losses, but for every rebel fighter that went down, the Coalition lost twenty or more. So many that the Coalition had had to bring their flagship and her weapons out of the shelter of the moon and expose it.
Which had brought her to where they were now. And caused Crim’s admiring words.
Shaina worked quickly, Crim helping. They used various pieces of the transport’s own equipment to hold it in place, then Shaina turned to the control panel. It was nearly as familiar to her as a Triotian craft because her father had insisted she learn as much as possible about Coalition weaponry. She also suspected her father had trumped up any excuse to get off the ground. Yet another subtle bit of training, she thought. He had made sure she had the tools, just hadn’t told her why she would need them.
Quickly she leaned in and programmed the small transport’s self-piloting system, then adjusted the identifier beacon. She rechecked the nitron torpedo they had liberated from the transport’s own weapon, then keyed the communicator Kateri had given her.
“Rina? We’re set. Coordinates and maneuvers are locked in.”
“Stand by.”
“How does
she do this?” Crim asked.
“She’s an exact navigator,” Shaina explained. “She can commit any system to memory, call it up, and read all the distances, angles, trajectories, and orbits as if the holo was right in front of her. She’ll know exactly when we have to launch to reach the mother ship before it has a chance to disgorge the rest of those troops.”
Crim shook his head, whether in amazement or disbelief she didn’t know. And it didn’t matter.
“Get out now,” she told him. “When the moment comes, there will only be three seconds to get clear.”
The old man didn’t dissent, but hurried to the open hatch and clambered down.
Moments spun out. Shaina was barely breathing. She knew Rina and Tark likely had their hands full, but when they’d come across this intact transport, she’d seen instantly that this was their best shot at spiking the whole operation. It only had to work.
For an instant she closed her eyes and thought of Lyon. She reached out farther, across the distance between them. She’d never tried this from so far before. But at last, she found him.
Slowing them, Shay.
She was still not used to it, this silent communication, and it was fainter at this distance, but it was there. Quickly, she sent him the image of what they were doing. And she heard him, sensed him—whatever this was—laugh.
They don’t like our style of fighting. They’d rather we lined up to be mowed down.
She sent a rather terse, suggestive opinion on that. And he laughed again.
“Now, Shaina!”
Rina’s command crackled from the communicator’s small speaker, cutting through her connection with Lyon. She didn’t waste time answering, but turned on the identifier, then slapped the main control and dashed for the closing hatch. She counted down in her head. One, out of the cockpit. Two, to the hatch. Three, headfirst dive to clear the steps that were already retracting.
She tucked in, hit the ground, somersaulted back to her feet. All those acrobatic classes with Denpar actually paid off, she thought with a grin as she turned to watch the transport lift off.
The rest of her small band all stood watching as the ship rose, headed for the mother ship. If they were puzzled by the early return of the craft, she hoped the identifier she’d changed, indicating the ship was damaged and needed repair, would distract them enough to take it on board.
They waited. The huge, hovering ship had seemed ominously close until now. Now, she wished it were even closer.
She could hear explosions, and the sound of fierce fighting in the distance. She would have looked toward the city, to see if there was more or less smoke rising than before, but she didn’t want to take her eyes off the big ship. She had utter, total faith in Rina, but she was in the midst of that battle and could have been distracted. She had Tark to worry about now. Shaina couldn’t help smiling at that. Tough, mischievous, wonderful Rina had finally found her match. If she was only a fraction as happy as she herself was now. . . .
Pay attention, she ordered herself. The only fraction you should be thinking about is the fraction off that would make this all be for nothing, our best chance wasted. She stared upward. Waited, barely breathing again. Pictured it in her mind. The transport approaching the mother ship, slowly, entering the launch bay. Clearing the entrance, entering the belly of the ship. Holding steady, her lethal cargo sitting harmlessly in the pilot’s seat. Until the program reached the last order she’d given it.
Roll.
The explosion was massive.
Chapter 52
ANY OTHER MAN would show some sign of fear at the thought of what was coming, Rina thought. Tark showed only satisfaction that his calculations had been correct. They had noticed the gap in the defenses where Tark had removed the cannon, and were heading that way.
“Tark!” Rayden’s whisper was nearly as loud as if he’d spoken normally, but since it wasn’t critical at the moment, they let it pass.
“What, Lieutenant?” He used the informal rank now as if it were official. Rayden smiled so widely at the title coming from his idol that Rina thought she might burst with emotion.
“The tree,” he said, pointing to the groundsweeper farther to the east that was tall enough to be visible above the buildings. “If I climbed it, I could see for miles. I could tell you their progress. At least until Dax gets here.”
Tark had called for Dax, asking him to flip on that invisibility shield and head out behind the advancing troops, cutting off any possible retreat.
“It looks a bit . . . spindly,” Rina said, eyeing the frail upper branches doubtfully.
“It would be if a grown-up tried,” Rayden said. “But I climb it all the time. It’s a good place to hide because nobody looks up. And the branches hide me anyway.”
“You,” Tark said then, “are a brilliant tactician in the making.”
“Then I can do it?” the boy asked, eagerness making his voice rise again.
“Wait until we reach it. If they aren’t here yet, then yes. If you understand your orders are to get down and away the moment they reach the perimeter.”
“Yes, sir!”
They proceeded, working their way from hiding place to hiding place, leaving others along the way, until they were in the shadow of the building closest to Rayden’s tree. The boy looked at Tark, who nodded. With a grin, he darted off.
“His parents would be proud,” she said softly. Ardek had told them they had died at Coalition hands some years ago.
“Any parent would be proud of a son like that,” he said.
Yours were not, she thought. And there is no excuse they could give that would make up for that.
But she said nothing of that to him.
“His grandfather is all he has left,” she said instead.
“Yes.”
“When he passes, Rayden will be alone.” Tark turned his head then. “Or,” she said softly, “we could see that he is not.”
She heard his sharp intake of breath. He looked at her, and she saw such wonder in his gaze she knew he was daring to for once look ahead. But then Rayden’s signal came, a low whistle sounding so like a whisperbird it was uncanny.
They moved forward, leaving one of the older women who had volunteered in the house that had hidden them. Then another, and another as they worked their way toward the edge of the city.
Tark had, of course, saved the most dangerous position, closest to the perimeter, for himself. He tried to leave Rina farther back, where it was marginally safer, but she refused.
“You’re not doing this alone,” she said.
“But—”
“You got your one. I let you go alone on that cellar run.”
There was a pause before he said in dry tones, “You neglected to mention you were going to decide things for me.”
“I’m not deciding for you. I’d be a fool to try. I’m deciding for me. And I’m not going to hang back and wait to learn if you’ve survived or not, ever again.”
“Rina—”
A new sound came, a warning, warbling yowl. From above and behind them.
“Unless there’s a tree-climbing bark-hound around, they’re in Rayden’s sight,” Rina said.
The directions he’d given had been clear: everyone was to hold in place until the people “fleeing” from the east passed, then join in. The people who began in the safest places would end in the riskiest, within range of the Coalition weapons.
Except for Tark, of course, who would keep himself between them all and those deadly guns and ruthless killers. Rina knew that, because she knew him. And when it came down to it, she wouldn’t have him be any other way.
The marching horde of armored Coalition troops cleared the trees and pushed toward the perimeter of the eastern quarter. The sun glinted off the silver metal of polished helmets.
<
br /> Rina pulled the flare pistol from her belt, but waited, her eyes fastened not on the enemy, but on the man she loved. He watched, and she could almost see him processing, calculating the point at which they would be committed to the action, and the sight of fleeing citizens would lure them onward.
“Now,” he said.
She fired the pistol, not into the air where it would be seen by all, but horizontally toward the last building where they had left a volunteer, an old man who had said he had nothing left to lose. She had removed half of the propellant, so the green signal would stay low and drop sooner.
Seconds later the man hurried into the street and hastened away, a bundle of some sort wrapped in a cloth slung over his back, as if he were carrying his most precious possessions as he fled his home.
“Nice touch,” Tark said.
“They only needed someone to lead them,” she said.
They moved then, working their way back toward Rayden’s tree. They were armed with several weapons, Tark weighed down with as much ammunition for his long gun as he could carry, although she knew he knew that if he had to resort to that, the ruse had failed and the battle for Galatin would soon be over.
The process built. A second man joined the first, in the middle of the street. And then a woman from a house across the way. The timing was perfect, as they were clearly visible yet out of the range of Coalition hand weapons as the troops reached the perimeter, crossed it.
Tark and Rina kept moving, but stayed behind the exodus as it moved inward toward the center of the city. The street was filling now, and the troops were picking up speed. Perhaps seeing a nice batch of slaves to pick up, Rina thought. But they had not fired, yet.
“Who is manning the cannons?” she belatedly asked.
“Crim’s brother is on the southern position. Ardek is on the one we moved.”
The old man had clearly earned Tark’s trust on that cellar mission, she thought. She was grateful for that.
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