by J. L. Lyon
“Today, Gentry, is the day I avenge Specter Captain 301-14-A.”
40
GRACE COUNTED EACH IMPACT of her boots against the ground, dull thumps that became more muted as they reached the flat concrete of the square. For a few brief seconds she felt like a little girl again, running though open fields with no thought but the arms of her father that awaited her somewhere within. He would jump out at her from the tall grass, and she would scream, but it would be from delight as he pulled her into a tight embrace. She could still feel the vibration of his laughter, a drum to her small form.
But then she saw the white light of her Spectral Gladius swaying in front of her, felt it as an extension of her arm, and sensed the heavy beating of her own heart as her body prepared for the trauma of battle. She heard the sound of more boots behind her, a subtle thunder in an otherwise peaceful world. The enemy spread out before them, a string of black phantoms come to slaughter them and leave their bodies to the crows.
Memories of innocence fell away. That little girl had grown into a warrior, not by choice but out of necessity. Out of fear. Now she was commander in her own right, leading her father’s men on their last stand. How far she had come from that girl terrified for her own destiny.
Her breathing was rhythmic, almost in time with her footfalls, and she began to count down the seconds in her mind, Ten...nine...
She was tied to a post, rope digging into her skin as she pulled it tout as if to flee. They took her roughly by the arm and burned a number into her skin. The pain seared her body, but it was the knowledge of what had just transpired that destroyed her: she had fallen victim to the fate she feared the most. Her life was no longer her own.
Eight...seven...
There he was, kneeling before her. He lifted her chin to look at him, and she resisted. But the light of hope had gone out of her body, and she had no strength left to deny this man to whom she now belonged. She met his eyes, and her soul burned in a completely different way than just seconds before. There was something about him...something familiar...something she trusted.
Six...five...
She was in love. She had tried to stop it, had tried to guard herself from feeling anything for this man who was her captor, but in their time together she had seen the man behind the World System’s soldier, the kind of man she had been searching for all her life. Today was the day she meant to tell him the truth about how she felt, but instead he told her she had to leave.
Four...three...
He kissed her on the doorstep. She had never experienced such passion, had never been so caught up in a single moment that the rest of the world simply fell away. If she had been more courageous she might have told him the truth then, begged him not to leave her. But her pride got in the way, and after that moment of celestial bliss ended, she let him disappear into the shadows of the street.
Two...
She reached out to him through prison bars, touched his arm and begged him to get away while he still could. He wanted vengeance, and she feared he wanted it more than he had ever wanted her. I will go, he had said, If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you do not love me. Such a simple thing, it seemed. But she could not do it, and her last pleas to him were lost in the crash of rusted steel.
One...
She fought her way to him across a battlefield of fire and smoke. He had just saved her from a brutal death, and she could not leave him to die here alone. She saw his position, watched as he and Derek Blaine engaged in their Spectral death match, and then looked on helplessly as Blaine’s blade plunged straight through her lover’s shoulder. Then two shots rang out, twin proclamations of Napoleon Alexander’s victory.
Zero.
The love of her life lay still, dead on the cold wet ground.
“Hook formation!” she shouted into the silence. “Now!”
Their traditional battle lines shifted, with five operatives out front in a V-shaped vanguard while the rest fell in behind, two by two. Grace herself fell back into the vanguard’s left wing, in the outermost position. The force charged on, like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, and Grace readied her Gladius. She could now feel the footsteps of their enemies as well as those of her own men, and lamented that Bruce's count had been about right: they were outnumbered three to one.
But there was no time to dwell on the impending doom before it fell upon them. The vanguard smashed into the charging line of the Spectorium, and the peace of the square shattered with a spill of blood.
- X -
Derek Blaine’s mouth hung open in disbelief as he studied Silent Thunder’s formation. They concentrated all their force on the center of the Spectorium offensive, and the lines crumbled. The Silent Thunder vanguard cut their way through their opponents with startling speed and agility, leaving the men behind to mop up the stragglers.
He heard Gentry curse beside him.
“Recognize it, do you?” Derek said wryly. Gentry merely nodded. It was the very same tactic the Persians had used to cut through the Great Army just south of Montreal, down to the exact number of men in the vanguard. Men, he thought, though he knew there was at least one woman down there, commanding the charge.
The Silent Thunder formation sliced straight through the center of the Spectorium, dividing it into two halves. The Persians had cut through the Great Army and moved on, but he doubted that would be Silent Thunder’s ploy. He did not want the opportunity to find out.
“Concentrate the rear lines to meet their vanguard,” Derek commanded. “Slow their momentum, trap them in the center, and then crush them.”
Gentry relayed his orders, and the back of the Spectorium shifted into a V-shaped pattern of its own, the point awaiting Silent Thunder’s arrow with a much thicker grouping of bodies. Derek watched closely, itching to be down there, to break the rebel advance with the swing of his own blade. In battles like these, one man could mean the difference between victory and defeat.
The two Vs met, and for a moment it seemed to have worked. The greater concentration of Specters stopped the Silent Thunder vanguard in their tracks. Their advance was halted...the rest was a foregone conclusion. He was almost disappointed.
“Bring Sawyer to me alive,” Derek said. And then, imagining the chaos taking place at the site of Silent Thunder’s broken vanguard, realized just how unlikely that would be. “If possible.”
- X -
Both of the men in front of Grace in the vanguard were struck down before her eyes, and others stepped up from behind to take their place. Blaine had been quick enough on his feet to halt their charge, and if they remained here too long they would be crushed between the two halves of the Spectorium.
Blood stained the ground red, and the cries of dying men—both friend and foe—echoed back at her from the darkening sky. A mad-faced Specter came at her, more beast than human, teeth gnashing with the fury of battle. Their blades crossed once, twice, and then he slipped in a pool of blood. She stabbed him through the heart.
“Photons!” she shouted as she withdrew Novus Vita from the dead Specter. “Now! Do it now!”
The vanguard had reformed, but at her order men passed through from behind, their blades morphing into barrels. They took aim at the line of Specters set before them, and opened fire.
-X-
An explosion ripped through the Spectorium’s rear lines, and then another, and another... Dirt and smoke obscured the field, but he knew even before he saw: his rear line had been obliterated by Solithium photon fire. Dread pulled at his stomach at the loss, yet still he could not suppress a smile. He had halted Silent Thunder for mere seconds, and though those seconds had costed the rebels dearly, Grace Sawyer had made sure it cost him even more.
Impressive.
The Silent Thunder formation broke through the clearing smoke and divided in two sections, both of which curved outward in opposite directions.
“What are they doing?”
“Coming around for another pass,” Derek said. “Only this time there wil
l be two arrows.”
Sure enough, the two lines reformed into two separate vanguards and charged the rear flanks of the Spectorium, whose members were still reeling from the photon attack. Well, I can play that game as well.
“Authorize the use of photon fire,” Derek said. “Tell them to aim at the enemy’s feet, not the enemy themselves. Then allow the formation to reach the center of our forces and converge. Cut the vanguards off from the rest of their men. Do not let them get all the way through again.”
-X-
The second charge proved even more successful than the first. Hook formation, her father had called it, a tactic Silent Thunder had not used since their campaign against the Persians. Her knowledge of it had been purely academic, straight from his war stories, until today. Now she saw first-hand what an effective strategy it made.
Fear shone on the faces of the Specters, their confidence melted by the swift and unexpected display of warcraft, but it would not last. Derek Blaine had reacted more quickly than she anticipated, and he would eventually find a way to bring his superior numbers to bear. But for now Silent Thunder had the momentum, and she needed to keep it that way as long as possible.
Novus Vita sliced through air and flesh, a cruel administer of death as Grace led the charge of the left vanguard. In those moments she knew nothing but battle, and she waged it with every ounce of strength and skill she possessed. For a while she no longer felt human...she was a powerful gale, Gladius whirling and parrying and thrusting, a creature of instinct and an unstoppable force.
She pushed forward into enemy ranks and inflicted heavy losses. She did not have the presence of mind to count the exact number, but she knew she had surpassed her three long ago. Briefly she even entertained that victory might be possible. Specter had the numbers, but she had the more seasoned warriors.
A flash of white and a burst of pain severed the thread of that hope. Her hand shot up to her face where the pain burned hottest, purely by reflex, and if not for the quick cover of the man next to her the attacker’s next blow would have killed her. He parried the attack and she struck out with one of her own, plunging Novus Vita through the man’s chest. She inspected her hand, now covered in blood, and wondered how bad he had cut her. Would it leave a scar?
She laughed at herself, to be worried about her appearance when she likely only had minutes left to live.
The ground beside her exploded, killing the man who had just saved her life and throwing her off her feet. Her shoulder hit the ground hard and it was a few seconds before she could breathe again. She tilted her head back up to see more explosions. Her vanguard had been torn to pieces. She had taken a risk authorizing photons. Blaine probably would never have used them unless she had done so first.
She rose to her feet, slowly, and attempted to rally her troops. But at just that moment more photons struck the sides of the line that her vanguard had led, killing an untold number of her men. Specters fell in the fire as well, but that was, apparently, an acceptable loss.
So this is it, she thought. Which blade will push me through the doors of death?.
But then she caught a rush of movement to her left, and the other Silent Thunder vanguard struck at the concentration of Specters that had halted her advance. The enemy was not ready for them, and fell in the charge. Guns were out now, firing into enemy forces to thin their numbers before falling upon them with whirling blades.
The loss of the concentrated force made a temporary hole in the battlefield, enough that the survivors might escape back into the streets of Corridor Prime. The objective is not to win, she reminded herself. It is to hold on as long as possible. So long as Blaine remained here, fighting them, he could not take the city capitol.
“Fall back!” she yelled over the continuing thunder of battle. “Take refuge among the buildings!”
Precious few bodies responded to her order, not because they refused or did not hear, but because they lay dead somewhere in that battlefield. She tried not to count them as they fled from the Spectorium’s shattered rear line, but the difference was impossible not to notice. Less than half, she thought. Half my champions are dead.
Good men, every one. And she would join them soon.
Haphazard explosions tore the earth around them as the enemy fired photons at their backs, but luckily none found their mark. A few operatives stopped to fire over their shoulders, but she urged them on. The Spectorium would take this opportunity to regroup, as they had taken heavy losses. More than twice the number of Silent Thunder dead if not more, Grace guessed. But they still had superior numbers, and Blaine would want retribution even more now. She had made a mockery of his battle formation with only a third of his number, and he would not stop until he had crushed them all.
She passed the first building and turned left into the first alley she came to. Here they would regroup and prepare for their final stand.
-X-
Derek stepped onto a battlefield still smoking with the remains of exploded photons, gunfire, and the burned flesh of Gladius victims. The ground was littered with bodies, clothed in both black and navy, countless discarded Spectral Gladii nearby. Most still hummed their soft diamond armor song, and that added another layer of melancholy to the aftermath.
But it was not over, not yet.
“We have eyes on the survivors?” Derek asked.
“Yes, sir,” Gentry nodded. “They have fallen back to an alley just east of here. The buildings will provide them ample cover during our approach.”
They know they cannot win. This was not about survival, but delay. They wanted to keep the Spectorium entrenched here as long as possible to give the army time to bring down the Solithium wall. If this had been a normal battle he would have called their bluff and turned to sack the city capitol, a much more strategic prize. But he couldn’t bring himself to even consider it. This was too personal.
“What is our fighting strength?”
“We have about eighty able-bodied,” Gentry replied. “What are your orders, sir?”
Derek had to hide his shock. 80? He had started the battle with a hundred and fifty men! “We need to finish this, and quickly. Radio the Halos under Van Dorn's command and reroute one here. I want air power in case they try to retreat deeper into the city. Make sure our men at air defense do not shoot it down.”
Gentry turned aside to speak into his comm, then shifted back, “Done, sir. ETA ten minutes.”
“Good,” he said. “Reform the men into squadrons under the remaining Specter Captains. Then prepare for a charge on the alley.”
“They will need a commander on the ground, sir. Specter General Marcus is nowhere to be found.”
Dead? That would be the end of a significant pain in my side. He felt guilty for thinking it, but it was true. “I believe I have spent enough time on the sidelines, Gentry. Time for the both of us to do our part.”
41
THE SKY IN FRONT of Davian's Halo exploded into an orange fireball, and he held onto the hull as the pilot banked right to avoid its destruction. The vessel rocked as it was hit by the shockwave, then leveled out as they continued on toward Corridor Prime.
“What's our ETA, pilot?” he yelled over another explosion. This one was behind them now since they flew over their own troops, but the peaceful flight would not last long. Van Dorn had managed to take control of the city's air defenses, and they would do their best to shoot them down as soon as they crossed back into the main sectors.
“Ten minutes!” the pilot yelled back.
“Our friends still with us?”
“Yes, sir! One got a little singed back there but made it out.”
Good, Davian thought. I'm going to need every man I can get.
Bruce had relayed news of Derek Blaine's maneuver just a few minutes ago, and it took all Davian's self-control to comply with Grace's orders. The whole of the Spectorium was on the ground in front of the city capitol, with only fifty Silent Thunder operatives there to counter. They would do heavy damage to
Blaine's forces, but the chances of them prevailing were slim. Davian would probably lose a lot of friends today, including Grace and Crenshaw. It might mean the end of Silent Thunder.
But it was just as much about the city now, he understood that. The civilians they had carried with them across the Wilderness had taken up residence in Prime, and their lives would be forfeit if Van Dorn and his army made it into the city. Their best chance was for Davian to destroy that wall and get the army back to the downtown district before the Spectorium could take the Stone Hall.
But that will leave the city open to attack from Van Dorn's army, he reminded himself. He gritted his teeth in frustration. There was no clean way out of this. True to form, Blaine had anticipated their ignorance of the city's defenses and vulnerabilities and potentially dealt them a fatal blow. Months of planning had gone into Alexandria. They had been in Corridor Prime for two days, and relied mainly on their new System allies for intelligence. Had Bruce betrayed them?
If I survive this I'll see him strung up, even if only for stupidity.
An explosion nearby rocked the Halo, and the pilot yelled, “Entering Prime's perimeter! Two minutes to the eastern pylon!”
Davian considered standing, but another explosion forced the pilot to maneuver out of the way, and he thought better of it. No need to crack his skull before a battle. “Listen up, men!” he shouted to the other operatives in the Halo. “We only need to destroy one pylon to take down the wall. Blaine will have only left a few men behind to defend it, but they will be ready for us. When we land, the first six men out of this Halo will grab a block of C4. If one of those men falls in the coming battle, the man behind him will take the explosive. We will need at least 4 to destroy the pylon.” The Halo shook violently at a near miss from the anti-aircraft guns. It sounded to Davian as though it was right on the other side of the hull. Too close.
Had they been in anything but a Halo, they would already have been blown out of the sky.
