by M. R. Forbes
"And that is why you allowed Ehri her experiment?" Tea'va said. He tensed as he realized he was doing more harm than good.
"We could have kept her under control. Even with the weapons she stole, without the help of the external forces she would never have held them. Even now, I expect that we will have her back here before long."
"Back here? Don't you intend to kill her?"
"No. I want her back."
"Why?"
"She is different. I am curious."
"Domo'dahm, that is a mistake."
"You should not be the one to judge mistakes. Ehri exhibits many of the same traits as the un'hai. I wish to understand how that has come to pass."
"None of this would be a concern if the ship hadn't returned," Gr'el said.
"Or if the pilot hadn't escaped," Orish'ek added. "Again."
Tea'va bowed his head. It was his fault the starcraft had made it back to the larger starship with the weapon. He had hit one of them, but it had been the wrong one. The human had escaped him a second time. Then, the forces he had sent to retrieve the downed pilot had been overcome by the freshly armed human rebels and the lor'el that Rorn'el was so infatuated with. Everything had been spiraling out of control for him since he had given chase through the mesh.
It was a mistake he didn't know if he could recover from. He had to try. First, he had to stop letting his defensiveness get the best of him.
"Domo'dahm," he said, bowing his head deeper in further submission. "I accept that my actions have threatened the security of the bek'hai, and given the humans that light of hope of which you spoke. I take responsibility for the deaths of the other pur'dahm, and for my failure to destroy the Heil'shur on two occasions." He looked up, barely able to make out the Domo'dahm's form in the darkness. "I implore you, Domo'dahm. Allow me to take command of the Ishur, and I will find the humans. I will destroy them before they can learn how to defeat the lek'shah. I will hunt them to the ends of the Universe, and I will not fail you again."
"Take command of the Ishur?" Orish'ek said. "You wish to be rewarded for your failure?"
"I wish to redeem myself," Tea'va said. "Domo'dahm, you have held the belief that the success of my creation is a herald of our next age. Please, allow me to prove that your trust is not misplaced. I have erred in the past. I will not do so again."
A silence fell over the court. The other pur'dahm's eyes suggested they were furious that Tea'va had asked. Tea'va didn't care. His advanced genetic makeup was the only thing he had to bargain with; he wasn't going to waste it. And, if he could find the human rebellion and destroy it, he would be able to return to Earth as second in line to the Domo'dahm.
"You intrigue me almost as much as she does," Rorn'el said at last. "I will acquiesce to your request on two conditions."
"Domo'dahm," Orish'ek said. "You can't-"
"Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, Orish'ek," Rorn'el snapped. "It took you ten years to reach this cell. I can expel you from it in seconds."
Orish'ek cast his eyes to the floor and lowered his head.
"What are your conditions, Domo'dahm?" Tea'va asked. He would do anything for the chance to recover from the failures Rorn'el believed he had made.
"First, Gr'el will accompany you as your si'dahm. He will report your experiences back to me. If I see a need to remove you from command, I will do so without hesitation."
Tea'va glanced at Gr'el. He hated the idea of having someone watching over him. He also knew he had no choice. The former Hunter was an easier choice to live with than Orish'ek, who was more likely to let personal grudges guide his thinking.
"And the other?" Tea'va asked.
"When you return, you will mate with the Mothers. As many and as often as needed to further our learning."
Tea'va felt the distaste rising in his throat. He fought against it, though it was almost enough to break his resolve. Was he willing to submit himself to something that disgusted him for the opportunity?
"Very well," he said, unsure if the bitterness was held from his voice. "I agree to your terms, Domo'dahm."
"Good," Rorn'el said. "The Ishur is yours. She is waiting in orbit while we calculate the stream patterns. The human's strategy was unorthodox and effective, but it will not prevent us from catching up to them."
"Yes, Domo'dahm."
"Do not fail us again, Tea'va. It would be a shame for all of us to have wasted these years on the wrong genetic considerations."
"Yes, Domo'dahm."
Tea'va glanced at each of the pur'dahm and then turned and walked away without another word. When the Mother met him at the end of the chamber to escort him out, it was all he could do to keep himself from throwing her against the wall. He would take the Ishur, find the humans, and destroy them. Then he would return not as a triumphant pur'dahm, but as a challenger to the bek'hai leader.
Nothing was going to get in his way again.
SEVEN
Donovan grunted, shifting the unconscious pilot on his shoulder so that he could take aim at the Dread clones behind them. He fired a few times, appreciating the lack of kick on the enemy plasma rifle. If he were carrying a standard issue Resistance weapon, his entire arm would be bruised and sore.
Even so, he was exhausted, and the pilot he was carrying seemed to gain weight with every heartbeat. He was so heavy by now that Donovan was surprised he was still able to stand, still able to fight.
When the other option was to die, it made things a little easier.
"Where are we?" he asked. They had been running for so long, fighting for so long, he had lost all sense of bearings. They were somewhere in the jungle near what had once been Mexico City. That was the best he could do.
They had chosen the direction based on geography. There was a river somewhere to the south of their position that would offer their one, slim opportunity to make a good break from the Dread forces that were pursuing them. Forces that by all rights should have killed them a hundred times already, but had always eased up at the moment he believed they were about the be obliterated.
Ehri had told him that she believed the Domo'dahm wanted her alive, and he had no reason to doubt her. Their continued survival wasn't accidental, and it wasn't because of anything special they had done. The fighters that continued to pass overhead didn't risk strafing them and hitting her, and the mechs had remained further back while the clone soldiers harassed them with their more precise fire. It was fire that had damn near killed both him and Diaz a couple of times already; plasma bolts that had split hairs to find their way between the foliage and Ehri.
"The river should only be another few hundred meters ahead," Ehri said.
"You have global positioning built-in?" Diaz asked. Despite her efforts to push reality aside, losing Matteo had made her understandably upset, and she was taking her anger and frustration out on everything around her. Donovan had been forced to order her to turn over her Dread weapon out of fear she would expend the power source that made it work.
"I have studied this area extensively," Ehri replied. "If we make it to the river, we can become much more difficult to track from above."
"And then what?" Diaz said.
"We lose or kill the clones, and then we find somewhere to hole up for the night," Donovan said. "Hopefully, this guy will wake up at some point and be able to walk on his own. At that point, we go back to base and see if that Hunter was lying about killing everyone."
"What if he wasn't?"
"We keep fighting, Diaz. That's all we can do."
They continued through the trees. Every step Donovan took hurt, his legs and shoulders burning. A part of him had been tempted to abandon the fallen pilot more than once, knowing he was slowing them down. He would never have done it, but he couldn't avoid the thought. He gritted his teeth and kept going, one step at a time, refusing to quit. They were almost at the river, and then they would have a chance.
Bolts continued to light the area around them, pulses of plasma striking the foliage on either side, each e
xplosion of sparks and smoldering wood a reminder of what would happen if any of the shots landed. Donovan and Ehri continued to fire back from time to time, their attacks measured, their goal to disrupt the clone soldiers more than to hit and kill them. They pushed on until Donovan could hear the soft churning of water over rocks, the signal that they were in the final stretch.
One last step, and then Donovan found himself on a steep slope, the river spreading out below the bank. He almost collapsed right then and there from his exhaustion, and would have fallen over if Diaz hadn't grabbed his shoulder to keep him upright.
"We made it," she said with a smile, even as the Dread fighters passed overhead once more. "We'll be invisible to their sensors by the time they circle back."
"But not to line of sight," Donovan said, pointing to the trees where the clone soldiers were still approaching. He took a few shots at them before stumbling down the incline a few steps.
"We can lose them in the current," Diaz said. "Come on."
She continued down the slope ahead of him, putting her arms out to balance. He followed behind, each step threatening to knock him to the ground.
He was almost to the water when he realized Ehri wasn't with them.
He looked back. He hadn't seen her get hit. He hadn't heard her cry out. Where was she? Had she decided to rejoin the bek'hai after all? Or had she sacrificed herself to help them escape?
"Where's Ehri?" Diaz asked, her sudden concern surprising him.
"I don't know," he replied, still scanning the tree line.
The grade and distance had given them a short respite from the Dread soldier's harassment fire. He could hear the fighter's engines growing louder as they approached for another pass. He heard something else now, a crashing sound from the other side of the bank a hundred meters distant. It was the sound of tree branches breaking against something substantial.
Something like a mech.
"Hurry," Donovan shouted, giving up on trying to keep his balance. He scrambled down the slope, slipping onto his back, barely managing to maintain his hold on the pilot. Diaz moved ahead of him, reaching the water's edge and wading into it.
Was the water even deep enough for them to hide?
The trees on the other side began to part, the Dread mech making its way through the foliage. Donovan looked back over his shoulder. Ehri was still nowhere to be found. Where could she have gone?
She had abandoned them at the worst possible time. Without her, the mech would have free reign to open fire.
He got back to his feet, skipping the last few meters to the water's edge. Diaz was in up to her waist and had turned back to face him, holding out her arms to help him in. The mech was clearing the trees, its arms swiveling to target them.
"Get down," Donovan said, throwing himself into the current.
Then he was submerged, his ears hearing nothing but the rushing of the water as it began to carry him away. He lifted his head to take a breath, shifted his body to ensure the pilot's head was clear. The echo of the mech's weaponry discharging drowned out his hearing again, rounds splashing into the water behind them as the machine's driver worked to get completely clear. Donovan looked around frantically, searching for Diaz, finding her a dozen meters ahead of him, letting the current carry her away.
The Dread clone soldiers reached the edge of the bank, and suddenly Donovan found himself under fire from both sides. Plasma bolts joined with projectiles, striking the area around him and vanishing in gouts of steam and bursts of water. He knew he was hard to see and hard to pick up on sensors submerged the way he was. It didn't matter. The volume was more than enough that he would be struck sooner or later.
He tried to swim a little, to push himself further and faster, to escape the range of the attack. He felt a biting in his leg, a bolt sinking into the water and hitting him, striking the Dread cloth at a reduced strength, burning him but not destroying the flesh and bone. Another hit his shoulder, only inches from the pilot's face. He was too slow, their escape too late. They had taken Matteo, Ehri was missing, and he was going to die at any moment.
At least he would fight to the last breath.
He rolled over onto his back, positioning the pilot on top of him and bringing his Dread rifle from the water to rest it in front. He pulled the trigger, aiming wildly at the soldiers on the side of the river, fighting back until the last. He smiled when he saw one go down. He laughed when he saw another fall.
He froze when he realized he wasn't the one shooting them.
The mech was.
EIGHT
Donovan lowered his body, trying to find the bottom of the river with his feet. He kept his eyes on the scene ahead of him the entire time, watching in awe and confusion as the mech on the south side of the bank decimated the Dread clones on the north side, tearing them apart with heavy projectile rounds.
"Dios mío," he heard Diaz say behind him, as she caught sight of what was happening.
He started swimming toward the shore as the last of the soldiers vanished beneath the onslaught. A Dread fighter streaked overhead, sending streams of plasma into the mech. It burned into the machine's armor, making deep scores but not taking it down. The mech pivoted to track it, missiles suddenly launching from hidden compartments on its shoulders. They streaked behind the fighter like a swarm of angry insects, exploding prematurely as the fighter pilot released some kind of chaff to distract them. A second Dread fighter appeared overhead, also targeting the mech.
The mech moved almost gracefully, sliding down the decline toward the water, shifting to fire at the newcomer. Plasma beams and projectiles crossed over one another, leaving the mech down an arm and the fighter without the rounded wing on its left side. It vanished behind the trees, the thunder of its crash and a cloud of smoke appearing seconds later.
"What the hell is going on?" Diaz said, reaching him.
"I don't know. Help me get the pilot closer to the shore."
Donovan and Diaz pulled the pilot further to the side of the river, where grasses overhung the water and gave them somewhere to hide while the battle continued to unfold. The mech had made its way into the water, moving toward the center and submerged to its knees. The first Dread fighter was circling back, coming in for another strafing run.
"It's wide open out there," Diaz said.
Donovan didn't respond. She was right. The mech pilot had left the cover of the trees and made the machine a massive target.
He watched in fascination as the two Dread weapons faced off. The fighter continued its trajectory, heading right at the mech while the mech responded in kind, raising its remaining arm and unleashing a barrage of missiles to go with projectiles and plasma bolts. Firepower met firepower, each machine generating small explosions as the attack caused extensive damage to both. The fighter passed fifty meters over the mech before spinning out of control, veering hard to the left and smashing into the trees. The mech groaned, pushed back by the assault, before flopping backward and slamming into the water.
Donovan turned his head away as the resulting wave crashed over them. Once it had passed, everything fell into silence.
He stared at the carnage upstream, barely able to breathe. His heart thudded in his chest, while his mind worked to make sense of what had just happened. Why had the mech pilot decided to defend them instead of killing them? It didn't make any sense.
A minute passed. Then another. Everything remained quiet. No other fighters flew over. No other mechs arrived on the scene. It was the closest thing to a miracle Donovan had ever seen.
"We're still alive, amigo," Diaz said, her face telling him she was as shocked and pleased as he was. "Someone up there is looking out for us."
"I guess so." He put his hand to the pilot's neck, feeling the steady pulse below his fingers. "For all of us."
"Not all," Diaz said.
Donovan flinched. He shouldn't have said that. "Diaz, you know-"
"Forget it. I know what you meant. It isn't your fault. We need to head downstream
. We may not be alone here for long."
"Ehri's gone."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"You are?"
"Why not? I know you like her. I'd be an asshole not to care if you lose someone important to you, even if I'm not as fond of them. Or if I'm jealous of them."
"Jealous?"
"You know how I feel, D. We don't need to rehash, especially now. We need to get the hell out of here, stay alive and do something with these weapons. We can't count on St. Martin to come back and save us, not when he's got a Dread starship on his ass."
"The Dread ship didn't leave," Donovan said. It was large enough that they had seen it hanging in a synchronous orbit above the Dread fortress before the trees had blocked their view.
"Not yet. It will, or it would have come back down."
"Yeah, you're right. Hopefully, General St. Martin and his son will make it back, but we need to be able to handle ourselves either way." Donovan shifted his grip on the pilot. "Let's head another kilometer or two down the river, and then we can set up a camp for the night. I can barely think straight."
"Yes, sir," Diaz said, climbing out of the water, and then reaching out.
Donovan shifted the pilot's weight, turning him over to Diaz so she could pull him out by his shoulders. He hoped they weren't doing lasting damage to the man with as rough as they had been forced to be with him.
He planted his arms on the side of the river and lifted, pulling himself up and out. He paused on his hands and knees, a sudden feeling of nausea nearly overwhelming him. He was exhausted beyond any limits.
He dry heaved then, coughing and sputtering. Diaz lowered the pilot gently to the ground, and then came to his side, rubbing his back as he continued to choke.
"It's okay, D," she said. "Relax. You'll be okay."
Donovan nodded. He would. He had to. He coughed again, and then turned his head to the side, back toward the fallen mech. The front of it looked different now. The enclosure near the shoulders was open, revealing part of the internals. It was composed of wires and some kind of organic compound coated in a layer of gel that pulsed with light.
