by Jean Kilczer
My compliments to the sous chef," Sophia told Sunny, the bent sunken-chested cook, with a smile in his blue eyes, “and to you too, Sunny,” she added.
“Why thank you kindly, lovely princess.” Sunny bowed. “With a compliment like that,” he croaked in his dry voice, “they'll be no charge. Just leave a big tip. Ah, for the sous chef, of course.”
We laughed. The team was enjoying this respite from the hardships of the past days on the frozen top of Kresthaven. All but Huff. Sunny had no lard, no eyeballs, and no candy bars. Huff consoled himself with a plate of fish and local scat bugs.
Afterward, Sophia took a shower and came into the tent assigned to us, dressed in a robe she'd borrowed from a merc's wife, and wiping wet hair.
I was lying on a bunk, enjoying the heated air, and the comfort of a mattress.
I breathed in her aroma as she sat on the edge of the bunk, and stroked her back. “You smell like a rose.”
She leaned over and kissed me. “You smell like a man.”
I pulled her down next to me and reached into her robe to cup her breast.
“Where's Huff?” she asked, “hiding under the bed?”
I chuckled. “You want him to join us?”
She snuggled against me. “Well, you're in the mood, and I can't make love anymore unless Huff is breaking down the door.”
“I didn't tell him where we are, but I could call him if you like.” I untied her robe.
“You sure he can't sniff us out?” She leaned against my chest. Drops of water from her hair dripped on my cheek. I don't know why that was sexy, but it brought up more than desire under my blanket.
“He'd have to know the scent of a rose.” I pulled the blanket out from between us.
“You're naked,” she said.
I slid the robe off her shoulders. “Now you are, too. I like to be ready in case a demon-eyed vixen just happens to wander into my tent.” I pulled her down on top of me and kissed her.
She spread her legs around my hips. “Every time we make love, I think it might be the last time.”
“No way! I know a good thing when it falls into my lair.”
She raised on elbows and studied my face. “I've learned to live for the moment, Babe. If anything happened to you…”
I wiped a drop of water or a tear from her cheek. “Would you go back to New Lithnia?”
“There's nothing for me on New Lithnia.” She laughed. “Except crusties.”
“Then where?”
“In the whole wide galaxy, with all the colonized worlds…I don't know.” She kissed me lightly. “Home isn't a place, Jules, it's where you are.”
“I won't be on the front lines, Soph. I can tel probe from fifteen miles behind the lines.” Battle lines are fluid, I thought, but didn't say.
She was aggressive in our lovemaking, as though by taking me inside herself, she could always have me.
Chapter Thirty Two
“I hate to lose one man!” Big Sarge paced, his ruddy skin florid as he punctuated his words with a fist slammed into his open palm. “Now I've lost four! Where the hell is Ara Saun and his militia?” He kicked an empty box marked Ground Sniffers and sent it sliding across the bunker.
The sun had just shown itself above the eastern crests of Mount Judth, in the Flame Peaks Range, when Sarge's lookouts saw the Cultists marching south, toward the mountains. Sarge had spread his men thin to guard the three passes. We were at Kalira Pass, in the southeast, close to the sea.
“And where the hell are the fucking Cleoceans and the fucking Druids?” Sarge slammed his desk with a fist.
“Sarge,” I said softly to try to soothe him, “I need a quiet place to tel probe for them.”
“You got it!” He stormed out of the bunker, then swung around. “But first probe for that mother, Aburra. I'd like to know the lord's thoughts on this historic day! Attila, John Crossbow,” I heard him call. “Kickstart! Fucking Thermopylae!”
The Cultists were coming through the three passes with about a thousand soldiers, while Sarge was holding them off with less than two hundred mercs. I had demanded that Sophia travel south with merc wives and girlfriends. For once, she had complied, after I told her I could not concentrate on tel probes while she was in danger. The rest of my team remained with Sarge's troops.
I sat on a box, exhaled a long breath to relax, if relax I could, and let down my mental shields, there in the dim light and muddy smell of fresh earth, and tried to block out the shouts and orders of mercs just outside the bunker. I also held down the fear that was stampeding through my chest at the prospect that Cultists might break through our ranks.
I closed my eyes and pictured the bee that is the symbol of my essence, at the roots of the protective flower in my mind, and allowed this defenseless image to ascend, past the thorns and protective spread of petals. In this state, I was vulnerable to the agonies of the dying, the frantic kwaiis as they fled lifeless bodies, terrified, into the void of the geth state between lifebinds. Here, I could be drawn in as they grasped for anything solid, and never find my way back to my own body. But I had agreed to open myself to this peril, for the sake of the mercs and the Rebel Slatties.
…A babble of voices, thoughts, fears, invaded my mind like a swirling wind. The agony of a dying Slattie, probably a Cultist, silently screaming out his life in a flight to geth, grasping for a hold in the void. Not understanding that he had died…
Spirit, I sent, I'm afraid they'll take me with them.
I am here, Jules. If your kwaii is dragged into geth, I will attempt to cut the bond that holds you.
Thank you!
I used his tel-link as a lifeline as I ventured into that disturbing maelstrom of battle, that obscenity of organized murder.
As I probed for familiar thought-patterns, I locked onto Granbor, father and leader of a sea-going Druid family. He was not a sensitive, and unaware of my intrusion into his mind. I went deep, in an attempt to access information on his position, past the brain's watchdog, past old memories, past fears and joys, and into the reptilian core.
What was that flash of light?
This had never happened before! Suddenly, I was seeing ocean waves through Granbor's eyes, feeling the water like silk around my body. He was surrounded by his family, his son by his side as he plunged through the surface and came up under a Cultist inflatable boat. I felt him rise, felt him push on one side of the boat, his tail slamming underwater for thrust, and saw the boat flip over. Cultists howled, knowing their beam weapons were useless underwater.
Granbor felt no pity as he ripped a Cultist's back open with his great curved tusks. I tasted blood as the Cultist rolled over and quivered. I had never before been so entrenched in another mind as to experience the world through his eyes.
Cleoceans appeared, plunging through white water like a great school of dolphins, and helped overturn boats while Granbor's family attacked Cultists who fell into the sea. The water turned red. I tasted blood. Screams were an agony through my tel-link. I heard myself moan.
Granbor rose to the surface, targeted another Cultist boat and dived under it.
Spirit! I sent.
Time for you to leave, Jules? You have just increased your tel powers. It is not always conducive to peace of mind to develop your abilities further. I felt him touch my link and snap it like a taut band.
I blinked my eyes open. I was on the dirt floor of the bunker. “Thank you, Spirit.” I pulled myself up and sat on the box again. Aburra…I had to try to link with him, but he was a sensitive and would know I was probing. Still, I searched for that telltale fury, that seething demand for absolute power, that vengeful craving to destroy anything and anyone who stood in his path.
And then I found him, like a beam of light suddenly pinning its target. He sat in the passenger seat of a military vehicle and led his Cultist army into the Kalira Pass. I sensed no fear in him, just the fundamental laws of his nature: Conquer. Rule. I touched his mind lightly, hoping that in his frenzy, he wouldn't notic
e my intrusion. Vaguely, I saw the mighty granite shoulders of Kalira Pass through his eyes.
A few breaths later, I got what I wanted. He had sent soldiers to fight at the central and northern passes, to make it appear that his army was spread among the three passes, in the hope that Sarge would also spread out his thin forces. In truth, most of his soldiers were fighting in the narrow, southeastern Kalira Pass.
I withdrew on my own this time, and searched for Ara Saun, somewhere to our south. Why hadn't he used his comlink to contact Sarge?
I scanned, and blundered into the Rebel army, south of us. I searched for Ara Saun's mental fingerprints, and found him talking to a Slattie in a village as his army rested and waited.
“Join us, brother,” I heard him cry, “we are off to victory!”
I clearly saw the Slattie he was talking to, and smelled his salty odor. Ara Saun grasped the villager's furry arm and I felt it beneath my hand.
But this was no time to recruit more soldiers, instead of marching to the mountain pass. “He that outlives this day,” I heard Ara Saun address a gathering crowd of villagers, “and comes safe home, will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rouse him at the name of Rebel Victory!”
The friggin' fool was quoting Shakespeare!
I concentrated on planting a thought in his mind. General Ara Saun, march your Rebel forces to the Kalira Pass. Now! To Big Sarge's camp. Now! He needs you. Sarge's mercs are overwhelmed at the southeastern Kalira Pass. March your Rebels there. Now!
I felt like adding you schmuck, but I didn't. I withdrew my probe and felt dizzy as i staggered outside. “Sarge,” I called. “Sarge!”
He turned from talking to Attila, strode up to me, and grabbed my arm. “What news?”
“Plenty!”
A booming crash shattered rocks from the pass. I yelled and threw myself down. “Take cover!”
Sarge stood over me. “Get up,” he extended a hand, “we're exploding boulders into the pass to slow them down. I'd like the motherfuckers to come through one at a time.”
Dust rose into the morning sky.
“Sarge,” I took his hand and got up. “forget the other two passes. Aburra's main force is coming through Kalira Pass.”
“So that's the crotefucker's plan? Attila!” Sarge called, “notify our troops at the central and northern passes to break off engagement with the enemy and hightail it here.”
Attila nodded and took out his comlink.
“Where's Ara Saun?” Sarge asked me. “Did you contact him?”
“He's on his way, but he stopped to recruit more soldiers.”
“That idiot! I should've known better than to trust him.” He stared at the pass. Dust was illuminated in the bright early sunlight.
“You've done a good job, Jules. You might have swayed the course of this battle. If you ever need work, join my soldiers of fortune.” He grinned. “We can always use a good tel.”
“Yeah, Thanks.” Fat chance, I thought. “I'm glad I could help.” I stared toward the pass as the sound of vehicles reverberated off granite walls, raising more dust. “Uh oh.” I turned to Sarge. “I'm afraid this is your Thermopylae.”
“Our Thermopylae, cupcake.” He patted my butt.
“The Cruelists are coming!” Huff charged out of the shadows of the pass, followed by the merc point man.
Chancey trotted up to me clutching two heavy-duty beam rifles and handed me one. “They're long range.”
“Thanks.” But I felt queasy at the thought of killing, and even queasier at the thought of being killed.
Joe was behind the lines, tracking enemy movements and firing missiles from remote air beetles. Bat was inside a medical tent preparing to care for the wounded.
“Luck,” Big Sarge told us, trotted to a waiting jeep, and took the passenger seat. The jeep roared off toward his troops.
“C'mon,” Chancey said as the first Cultists burst out of the narrow pass, some in vehicles that bounced off granite walls, some running on all fours, their weapons slung across their backs.
Sarge and his mercs surged toward the pass and took cover on a low cliff overlooking the emerging Cultists.
Chancey and I ran up the cliff to the edge, threw ourselves down and started firing.
“If them mothers break out of the pass,” Chancey said, “they'll be no stopping them.”
I fired at approaching Cultists more out of fear that they would overrun our position than a desire to kill them. I don't like to think about how many I killed and wounded that day, but unlike Chancey and the mercs, I didn't fire on those who were already down.
A Cultist vehicle skidded up the escarpment toward the cliff's edge, but it slid back down the gravel slope. It turned its mounted missile launcher in our direction.
“Incoming!” a merc shouted even before it fired.
Chancey and I ran along the cliff's edge and took cover behind a boulder as a missile blasted the ledge into stone shrapnel. I heard a merc scream.
“Christ and Buddha!” I coughed on acrid smoke and covered my head as shards of rock rained down. My ears rang from the blast.
The mercs were falling back, not in a frenzied retreat, but in a calculated maneuver.
“They're going to overrun us,” I said as Chancey and I followed the mercs to a stream that ran toward the ocean. My hands shook as I turned and fired on charging Cultists who yelled their chilling war cry in shrill howls.
“Fall back!” That sounded like Attila. The thought came to me that his karate moves would do him no good.
Chancey and I got up and splashed through the stream, our heads low as hot beams snapped overhead. A tree burst and toppled, barely missing a running merc. The trunk flamed and crackled.
Chancey slipped and fell on slippery rocks in the water. I grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet as a beam flashed by so close it burned a hole in my sleeve. I yelled as I felt the heat but it didn't touch flesh.
We headed toward a grove of Shingle trees and slid behind a thick-boled rotted trunk. The Cultists too had taken cover, on the banks of the stream. More were swarming through the pass.
“I'm telling you, Chance, they're going to overrun us!” I started to get up.
“Wait for orders.” Chancey pulled me back down. “An' stop being so negative, man!”
“We don't need orders. They run faster than us. That's all.”
“Fall back!” That was Big Sarge's voice.
“There's your orders. C'mon!” I got up and ran, with Chancey right behind me.
A missile exploded in the grove.
“Oh shit!” I threw myself down and covered my head as chunks of wood and branches rained down around us. Something hit my right thigh. I yelled, but it was only a root with wet soil clinging.
“Are you hit?” Chancey jumped to his feet.
“No.” I got up. Chancey had a spiky red leaf stuck in his thick hair. I laughed.
“Are you nuts?” he said. “C'mon.”
We ran out of the grove, keeping trees between us and the firing Cultists.
“Get over here!”
I looked around. Big Sarge was waving at us from behind a boulder. We ran there and rolled down beside him.
“Listen to me,” Sarge said calmly. “We're going to play leap frog.”
“What?” Chancey asked.
“I know what he means,” I said. “Do we cover you first or you cover us?”
Sarge fired over the boulder. “I'll cover you first. Head for the medical tent. We've got jeeps waiting there.”
We ran as mercs held off the advancing Cultists. Bat and a medic were helping two wounded men into a jeep. Chancey and I fired at the Cultists to give Sarge a chance to catch up. He ran low to a jeep. “Let's go!”
Chancey dived into the jeep with Bat and the wounded men. I jumped on the floorboard.
“Hang on!” the driver floored it as a missile exploded behind the tent and tore it open. Pieces of hypalon floated down behind us.
“Joe,” I said to Cha
ncey as we raced down a gravel path. “What about Joe?”
“By now he's heading south too,” Chancey called.
“Oh no,” I said as Cultist jeeps tried to head us off and turn us east, into the sea.
The two wounded mercs cried out as we tore across a pebbled beach.
“Sorry, tags,” I said. “We're not going to outrun them,” I told Chancey, “and they're much better swimmers than we are.”
The Cultist jeeps gained on us.
“Motherfucker,” Chancey said. “It's been fun knowing you, Superstar.” He fired at the approaching Cultist vehicles. “I ain't going to be taken alive for their fucking altar.”
“Me neither, Chance. See you in the next lifebind. You too, Bat.”
Bat looked up and nodded as he held a wounded merc upright. His expression was bleak. His face was pale.
I knew how he felt. My stomach was in knots. My hands shook on the door as I held on. Don't throw up! I told my stomach.
A hot beam hit the front right tire. The driver tried to maintain control, but the jeep swerved, dug an erratic path through sand, and slid below the wet, high-water mark.
“Jump!” I yelled as the jeep hit a twisted trunk of driftwood and lifted to its left wheels. I grabbed one of the wounded mercs and tried to drag him out of the careening vehicle. He was ripped from my grasp as the jeep flipped over. I had to leap off.
“Jesus,” I said as I heard screams from the overturned jeep. “Chancey!”
“I'm OK. Look!” he called as we ran to the jeep to try to help the wounded.
Hundreds of Slatties were approaching from the south. “More Cultists?” I helped Bat pull a wounded merc from under the jeep. The other man was silent. Bat checked him, looked up and shook his head.
“No, man!” Chancey pointed at the approaching Slatties. “Look at their armbands.”
I drew a breath. Red.
“Rebels!” Bat took off his cap and threw it on the ground. “Ara Saun's Rebel forces!” He was shaking. “Talk about the nick.”
The Cultists turned and fled pursuing Rebels, badly outnumbered now.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. My knees suddenly felt weak. “Oh my God.”
The general stood in the passenger seat of the leading jeep that flew two Kresthaven flags on its fenders. I saw him wave and call something to his troops, and wondered what lines from Shakespeare he was reciting now? Into the fray, once again, came to mind.
