Blackout

by Edward W. Robertson

  Sebastian peeked over the top. "THERE WAS SUSPICION OF OUR MOVEMENTS. WE ARE TO STAY BOXED UNTIL THE TIME OF TOMORROW"

  "You mean until we're going to the bridge?"

  "YES UNTIL THEN. HAVE NO WORRY. AS WE ARE ALREADY IN DDEN'S JAIL, IT MUST BE THAT WE ARE HARMLESS"

  Sebastian closed the lid of Ness' rubbery cell. Sitting in the darkness, the thrill of being so close to their goal faded fast. There was something wrong with human emotions. The good ones left you as fast as a sneeze while the bad ones hung around like bronchitis. Knowing better than to fight it, he slept.

  Hours later, a Dovon in plain gray bandoliers took him out to the bathroom. Familiar with such things, Ness made ready use of the volcano-shaped toilet and the ceiling-mounted shower. Back in his box, he was given water and an extremely bland paste.

  He was somewhere between sleep and consciousness when the lid pulled back again. Ness stood, ready for another bathroom trip, but Sebastian lowered his tentacles into the box and helped pull him out.

  "THE TIME IS NOW. ARE YOU READY?"

  "As much as I'll ever be," Ness signed.

  He helped Sprite climb out of his box. Toru came up beside him. Sebastian translated: "STAY AMONG US. AT THE BRIDGE, I SPEAK FIRST. THERE WILL BE MORE QUESTIONS THAN FISH IN A SCHOOL. IF YOU ANSWER FROM YOUR HEART AND GUT, THEN THE HEARTS AND GUTS OF THOSE WHO QUESTION WILL RESONATE WITH YOURS"

  "Will do," Ness muttered, not bothering to sign it.

  Inana and Llen moved to join them. Inana's motions were anxious, but Llen was almost cat-like, as if he was stalking something. Toru led the way to the room's main doors. Outside, four of the Vigil waited with spears in claws. Ness glanced at Sebastian. Toru flexed his tentacles to the guards. They returned the gesture and moved to escort him.

  "What happens if we screw this up?" Sprite whispered.

  "I figure we'll get flung out an airlock," Ness said. "But don't worry, we'll have two miles of atmosphere to regret our decision before we hit the water."

  The corridor was nothing but a standard-issue hallway. But as Ness walked down it, preceded by the spear-carrying Vigil, next to Sebastian and the former commander of the ship, everything took on a heightened air, like a hallucinogenic trip or a panic attack. They reached an elevator and the Vigil cleared it. After an ascent, they exited to another passage. Every Dovon they passed swerve to the side of the hall, glancing sidelong at the hooked metal weapons of their escort.

  Ahead, double doors sat in the wall. The member of the Vigil who'd questioned Ness moved ahead, opening both and stepped back.

  The bridge spread before them. It was gigantic, descending in terraces like a stadium-style movie theater, each level packed with workstations and crew. Limbs rippled as those nearest the doors took notice. Dozens of Dovon swiveled their long heads, eyes darting between Commander Toru and the two humans.

  The terraces led down to a central stage at the bottom of the arena. Above it, vast windows or screens stretched to the ceiling, providing a view of the dark bay and city beyond. Beneath this on the stage, some twenty aliens slowly took notice of the new arrivals. Including Dden, the silver wheel glinting from his chest.

  His eyes shifted from Toru to the Vigil to Ness, then back to Toru. He stepped up a terrace, gesturing fiercely. The Vigil made no move. Toru descended the steps until he stood two platforms above the congregation of officers. Some looked nervous or angry, but others had their tentacles lifted in curiosity.

  And more than a few looked happy.

  Llen and Inana moved to either side of Toru, intercepting and having quick conversations with the few Dovon trying to reach the former commander.

  As Sebastian gazed across the room, his limbs retracted an inch or two. "THERE ARE MANY FARSCHOOL HERE"

  "Is that normal?" Ness signed.

  "SINCE TAKING COMMAND, THE REBEL DDEN WORKS WITH THEM. PERHAPS HE HAS THEM HERE AS A SIGN OF HIS STRENGTH"

  Toru allowed the moment to stretch out and the flickers of tentacles to go still, then raised his limbs and began to speak.

  "HE SAYS THAT HE IS NOT HERE FOR BLOOD OR VENGEANCE," Sebastian translated. Ness did his best to pass this along verbally to Sprite, murmuring the words. "THAT INSTEAD HE IS HERE TO END ALL SUCH TROUBLE. HE ASKS FOR ALL TO LISTEN TO HIS WORDS AND THEN JUDGE IF THEY ARE WISE OR UNWISE. AND ONCE THIS IS DONE, TO DO THE SAME FOR THOSE WORDS WHICH COME NEXT—THOSE FROM THE HUMANS"

  This drew a ripple of limbs from the officers and crew. Many eyes fixed on Ness. Toru went on, Sebastian gesturing calmly. "IT WAS SAID THAT WE MUST SEEK THE COLD ANSWER FOR THE DEATHS OF OUR GUTBROTHERS AND THOSE OF THE FARSCHOOL. YET THE FARSCHOOL'S CAUSE IS NOT OUR OWN. IN TAKING IT UP, WE SET DOWN THE WAY"

  Toru swept three tentacles toward Ness, Sprite, and Sebastian. "WITH ME ARE TWO HUMANS AND ONE DOVON OF THE FARSCHOOL. THE DOVON AND ONE HUMAN ARE GUTBROTHERS—AND THE HUMAN KNOWS THE WAY"

  If there was a ripple before, these two revelations provoked a tsunami. Aliens signed back and forth, waving their tentacles for attention. Dden tried to force his way toward Toru, but two Vigil got in his way, keeping the peace.

  "THE HUMANS WISH PEACE," Toru signed over the silent babble. "HOW CAN WE KILL THOSE WHO TAKE UP THE WAY? HOW CAN WE ALLOW A HUMAN TO FOLLOW THE WAY MORE TRULY THAN WE ARE WILLING TO?"

  This quieted most of the Dovon who'd been gesturing. Flexing his limbs, Commander Dden pointed at Toru, then at Ness.

  "YOU DO NOT TRUST ME?" Toru clicked his claws in amusement as Sebastian translated. "THIS IS FINE FOR YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TRUST ME. ASK YOUR QUESTIONS TO THOSE I BRING BEFORE YOU. ALL IS ABOUT TO CHANGE. ALL IS TO BE FINISHED"

  He stepped aside, lowered his head to Ness and Sebastian. Nearly every eyeball in the room turned their way. Ness' heart beat so fast that for a moment he was afraid he'd pass out. For once, though, it wasn't just anxiety. He felt excited, too.

  Everything in his life had been to prepare him for this moment. Time to step up and deliver.

  "My name is Ness," he signed. Sebastian's limbs moved, relaying his words to the audience. "For the last five years, I've lived among the Dovon. Fought beside them. They were from the Farschool, but they fought and died trying to undo what their people had done—and to find their way back to the Way. Now the Deepfinders have come. And I'm afraid that you've lost the Way, too. But it can be found again, too. Starting now."

  On the level below Ness, a human face moved behind the line of officers. Ness glanced at it, ready to reprimand Sprite, but Sprite was still right next to him. Yet the face was familiar. It was—

  "No!" Ness screamed. His voice bounced from one end of the bridge to the other, but none of the Dovon could hear him.

  Walt Lawson lifted his laser, took aim, and fired into the back of Dden's head.

  24

  As the jets disappeared within the balls of white and heat, a tear slipped from Raina's eye. Not for the loss of the boy. He had delivered himself, finding his revenge for the deaths of his family. It was just as he had wanted.

  Rather, the tear she shed was for those who still lived. For she could see, at last, the path to victory. And that it would require a savagery even deeper than what she had known living as an animal after the plague.

  Flaming debris rained on the runway. Smoke boiled from the ruins of the jets. A few Swimmers staggered to their feet, staring in shock at the remains of the blast. Others fired toward the retreating humans. As blue lines crossed the sky above her, Raina turned and ran back to the burned-out houses across from the airport.

  She was among the last to arrive. Once all heads were accounted for, her troops angled northeast, leaving a few scouts straggling behind to watch for pursuit.

  "This is grim." Mauser cast a meaningful glance toward the pillars of smoke rising from the runways. "Even by our standards."

  Raina sheathed her sword. "It worked. And it only cost a single life."

  "I made no criticism of its efficacy. But the young have always been too eager to sacrifice their lives to take those of other
s. I wonder if we ought to be taking advantage of that impulse."

  "Since when were you such a moralist? When I met you, you were a whoremonger and a thief."

  He raised an eyebrow in mock affront. "I knew the brothel's employees. And not in a biblical sense. Anyway, I seem to recall that particular knowledge proved vital to your campaign against Karslaw."

  "Do you know what proved most vital? Having the will to do whatever it took to defeat him. I wish we hadn't had to do what we just did. But if I thought it would put an end to this, I would don the bombs myself right now. I wonder if, the next time, it should be me."

  "It shouldn't," he said quietly. "That's the worst part of this. It makes us treat people like tools. Expendable resources. The Panhandler showed us how cheap life can be. But everything that's come after has shown me how priceless it is, too."

  "I'd like to mock your sudden sappiness. Except I feel the exact same way."

  "Do you? I would have expected some sort of dog-eat-dog lecture. Illustrated, most likely, with a story from your personal experience involving actual dogs."

  "Such a story might well be true," she said. "But I'm too tired to tell it now."

  They advanced northeast through the streets, circling around the airport on their way back to their territory. Many of the warriors and knights had horses or bikes; at the first sound of enemy jets, they would scatter, minimizing their ability to be bombed. Yet their primary order was to keep moving at all times.

  Fifteen minutes since the withdrawal, they'd advanced more than a mile. Raina turned to the east, redirecting her scouts to the south.

  Lowell rode up to her. "Anything seem funny to you?"

  He was staring at the dark clouds. Raina watched them, too, but there was nothing to see. She narrowed her eyes. "There are no jets."

  "They should be making a sortie. Doing their best to punish us, or at least discourage us from pressing the attack. Instead? Nothing."

  "This raid can't have been enough to make them fear us. We bloodied their nose, nothing more. That should only have made them angrier."

  "Seems like."

  When he said nothing more, Raina frowned. "What are you suggesting?"

  He shifted the toothpick in his mouth to the other side. "Nothing."

  "Nonsense. You wouldn't have brought this up if you didn't have a suggestion for what to do about it."

  "It's my job to watch," he said. "It's your job to decide."

  "Stop." Her voice boomed across the damp air.

  She held up a fist. The loose column halted. Without the need for orders, a contingent of warriors jogged west, setting up a picket line against any incursions from the airport. She called for Bryson. He joined the impromptu council of Lowell, Mauser, and Mia.

  "We planned this attack around the idea the Swimmers would counter quickly," she said. "Yet they haven't made any counter at all."

  Mia scanned the clouds. "Our plans were based on a faulty assumption. If the Swimmers aren't sending jets, then how should we have attacked?"

  "We don't know that they don't intend to respond," Mauser said. "Maybe they were in the middle of maintenance. Or there was a malfunction with the hangar doors. Or they've sniffed out our strategy and are laying a trap to lure us back in."

  "If this was our second or third poke at the runways, I could believe it was a trap. But this is the first time we've done this. There's no pattern for them to react to."

  "Just so," Raina said. "It could be that some simple accident has delayed them. But whatever its cause, what if this delay lasts for hours?"

  Mauser tapped his toe on the sooty street. "Then that would provide us with an hours-wide window to attack the airport in force."

  "We can eliminate scores of their soldiers. Burn their buildings just as they burned ours. If they want to rebuild, they'll have to bring down more planes. We can hit those, too."

  "I thought the plan was to wear them down inch by inch," Bryson said. "Defang the snake and all that jazz. No big risks."

  Mauser bit his lip. "The jets are the biggest risk by far. No jets, no worries."

  "Don't tell me you want to go back there. You never want to fight."

  "That's because getting in fights is the best way to get punched. I don't know what I think about this. I'm merely playing devil's advocate."

  "The devil does well enough without your advice," Raina said. "Call in the rest of the warriors. We're going back."

  The group they'd taken to the airport was only a fraction of her total command. She had brought a reserve force as well, breaking them into three tribes and stationing them within two miles of the airport. By this time, they would also be on their way home, but she knew their withdrawal routes, and dispatched scouts to intercept them and bring them to bear.

  As the scouts ran on their way, Raina returned her personal command to the blackened houses beyond the runways. The time it required to muster the other three groups gave her the chance to assess the skies and the tarmac.

  "I want spotters on the rooftops there and there." She pointed to two taller buildings that looked to have weathered the fires well enough to still have roof access. "Give them lasers and tell them to watch the mothership. The instant they see a jet leave it, they are to fire their lasers straight up into the air."

  Mauser nodded. "If their planes do show up, we're only going to have a minute or two to withdraw and scatter. We're going to need an exit strategy that can provide an out at any moment."

  "Or we stay so close to the enemy that they can't bomb us without killing their friends as well."

  He lifted a pair of binoculars and surveyed the field. Raina did the same. There was some activity around the wreckage of the jets. Sentries stood behind the walls ringing the airfield. A long stretch of open ground separated the walls from the orange structures rising closer to the terminals.

  "The first step will be to take the wall," Mauser said. "That will give our riflemen the chance to cover an advance. Even so, that's a lot of open ground between us and their holdings."

  "So we drop more smoke. If they try to fire blind on us, it will hamper the lasers. If it's thick enough, it might stop them altogether."

  "That might work well enough this time. But I won't bet my life on it working a second time."

  "We don't need to try it twice," Raina said. "Next time, we'll do something different."

  "Maybe they'll have to go find some human weapons," he mused. "Kinetics capable of punching through a bit of smoke. Surprised they don't have that already, really. Do they never fight each other?"

  Raina found his questions far less interesting than he did. Things were as they were. When the Swimmers fought foolishly, either they would change their ways, or they would lose.

  "The walls will be too high for our shooters to use," she said. "We're going to need chairs for them to stand on. Rubble. Anything."

  Mauser headed off to assign people to scavenge up materials. As warriors returned with chairs, tables, stools, and garbage cans, one group of reserves arrived. A second showed up minutes later. She sent snipers to the husks of the buildings to sight in on the Swimmers guarding the walls.

  "Once this starts, we need to take the walls fast as we can," Lowell said. "We've been gone just long enough that they might not see this coming. You got any of those orange mats of theirs?"

  "We brought a few more with us," Raina said.

  "Drape them over a table and you've got a siege engine. Run it right up to the walls. Plant an explosive, and we're in."

  "Pick a team and make it so."

  Activity unfolded around her, carried out with the stealth and cunning of a panther. As sick as she was of war, there was a cold beauty in the talents coaxed out of the men and women who survived it. Once this was over, she would need to ask Mia to write songs and stories of those who had fought for the Dunemarket and the world. Not for the sake of glorifying the heroes. But so that their deeds and wisdom wouldn't be forgotten, and would instead be passed along to later people—p
eople who, if they were fortunate, would never need to replicate those deeds.

  Her lieutenants coordinated like the limbs of a body. Within half an hour of their return to the airport, Mauser informed her that all was prepared. Those who would shoot were stationed in the houses, while those who would run had crawled into the ditch that ran along the road that ran above and parallel to the runways.

  Raina gazed up, tasting the air. There was something off about it, like a smell she couldn't quite place. Like damp, turned earth. Cut stone. The metal tang of a drawn sword. Was it a sign? A warning from her instincts portending graves, tombstones, and steel? She inhaled deeply through her nose, nostrils flaring. The scent wasn't foul. It was neutral. At times, almost pleasant.

  It shifted. Like the air after a rain. Morning dew. An offshore wind after a day of high heat. Smells of change. This night marked an end of one age and the beginning of another. But as for whose age was ending and whose was to begin, the night gave no hint.

  "Raina," Mauser said softly. "On your command."

  She took one last breath. When it told her nothing, she turned to her people hiding in the ruins. "Fire!"

  Her voice boomed, summoning a fusillade from the warriors embedded in the houses. Atop the Swimmers' walls, three corpses fell away, then a fourth. Lasers lanced across the darkness, smoking against the charred timbers. Within seconds, the riflemen forced the outnumbered sentries down behind their wall, where they dared no more than occasional blasts of laser fire.

  Raina whistled. Warriors jumped from the ditch, advancing from shrub to shrub. Raina wrapped a damp cloth around her mouth and settled a pair of safety goggles over her eyes. Others did the same. The siege team lifted the table over their heads and trotted across the field. Mauser held a detonator in hand. A spotter stood beside him, binoculars pressed to her eyes. Every time a Swimmer lifted its head from behind the wall, a barrage of fire forced it back down, captured lasers mingling with the pop of rifles.

  The siege team reached the base of the wall without drawing more than a handful of shots. They paused there, planting their explosives, then picked up the table and rushed away from the site.