The man put on his belt, finding some measure of pride making him stand straighter now that it was back on. “It is fine to speak the Trade Language. I can speak it some and for when I am no good to it, Yaneesa can translate for me. You told her you were here for Sorkabi's head. But yet, on your way to disable the roof missiles, you helped many people. You saved them from harm and in some cases their life. For this we owe you a great debt.”
“Sorry, sir. No debt can be paid to one doing the right thing. They were in trouble and I could help them. You owe me nothing.”
“You say this, and yet you went into battle carrying that flag on your back. This is the flag of Dagoshu, the flag of our fathers. Why did you do this?” The uncle asked.
“So that the people knew their ancestors called me here. That I want nothing here but what is right and what I'm owed.”
“Someone here does owe you a debt?” the newcomer asked Marco.
“Sorkabi. His head is payment to someone I hold dear. I've come to collect. But if in collecting what is owed, I return the city back to the people, then I would be doing the right thing, again. You owe me nothing.”
Yaneesa's uncle let his thoughts flow out loud. “This was the flag our fathers carried when they came here. How did we become so divided when we arrived so united? I have heard them call you Father Lion. But to me, for saving my family, I will name you Brother Lion. We will fight with you.”
“You don't need my permission or my assistance to fight for your home.”
The older man gestured to Latisha. “For days, this woman and her people fought to keep the center open so we could have food and medicine for the less fortunate. She reminds me of my daughter before we lost her. So full of life. Each time the enemy came, she held them off. Each time that flag was there until you took it and planted it further down the street. You gave us hope. So we join our hope to yours. We fight with you.”
Marco nodded. “I'm taking my forces into the city. We're ending Sorkabi today. If we do this, will your people be able to deal with the other warlord, Korobu?”
“He will not be a problem.”
“Good. We'll see you out there, Brother Lion.” Marco said, offering the smaller man his hand. They took each other by the wrist, laying their foreheads together.
“May the stars light your way, Marshal.”
“And guide you home, Prime Minister.”
“Wait, what?” barked the excited executive officer.
“My name is Adrian Nakabwe, and I thank all of you for my home. Good luck to you.” He gripped Latisha by the arm, resting his head against hers like he had done to Marco. “Thank you, Sister Lion.”
“What just happened?” Latisha asked.
Marco replaced his helmet, signaling to the Dreadmarr around him to cover down on his position. “You just brokered a treaty. Those that need rest may remain. Those that can wait for the grave, come with me.”
Latisha directed her squad to ready the PPC. The executive officer stepped in Marco's path, a move that shocked everyone, including the marshal.
“These men are our responsibility, Marshal.” Marlan said. “Sure, you can claim whatever executive privileges from the Athalon over us, but when you're done with them, we have to ensure we did everything we could for their wellbeing. It is my responsibility to...”
Marco took the man by his shoulder, spinning him to face the street they'd fought on. It was littered in smoke, bodies, and broken equipment. “Do you think the people who live here have had any rest since this started? Did you have to look into a mother's eyes as she held her baby, who she accidentally smothered trying to keep quiet so Sorkabi soldiers didn't find them? What about a man so distraught that he begged his wife to breathe after a blaster bolt robbed the air from her throat? No. You wouldn't have seen any of that from behind the wall, lieutenant. I crawled through here for hours watching the same things play out because if they left their homes they were dead. Not, they might die, just dead. So they remained in place with their broken hope.”
Marco pushed the officer forward. “I'm old and tired. My back is killing me. And frankly, your whining is getting on my nerves. You know who I haven't heard complain once? Them. Your soldiers. They lost friends and family on the field today and when told they had a chance to end this, they stepped up. You can order them back behind the wall for a bowl of soup and a blanket, but the cost to their soul would haunt them for life. Look at them. These soldiers were born for the wild. The walls back there are a cage. Time to let them off the leash, Lieutenant.”
“Why, so they can be like you?”
“No!” Marco barked. “Because after you've been out there, the food is gold, the drink is platinum, and the touch of a loved one is priceless. Perhaps, instead of trying to bring them back there with you, why don’t you come out here with us? I could use a lancer LT who cares about his men.”
The lieutenant appeared to not understand what was asked of him. The captain stepped forward, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Lieutenant Marlan, my granddad was a lancer for twenty years. Officers claw and scrape for a chance at Lancer Selection. This isn’t an opportunity to pass up. LT Scrappio can take your place.”
“But I've never gone through a selection.” Lieutenant Marlan said as though he were too young to taste liquor but offered a drink.
Marco tapped the Lieutenant's shoulder. “LT, do you know what makes a lancer different than the conventional forces? One more step. When everyone around them has given up, they push themselves to take one more step. Then another, and so on until they complete the objective, even if it means they have to do it alone. The Crucible's effects are easily seen when a marshal uses the Way. A lancer has to work it on faith, knowing that it's there for him to draw on for one more step, even when his body or worse, his soul, begs him not to. The real selection is out there if you have the stones to go through it.”
Marco reached out his hand toward the LT.
Latisha reached the checkpoint. During the running gunfight they'd just been through, she learned that the Dreadmarr soldiers they were moving with were part of Rook Oros, a type of tribal or clan organization she couldn't figure out. She could tell the lead soldier was in charge of the five-man team she was leading, but there was no rank insignia or even method of telling who was who. All of their armor looked the same.
What she was extremely grateful for was that the Dreadmarr took the lead through the buildings and back alleys they were navigating while the marshals took the main body straight through the middle. The occasional militiaman would stumble into their path to escape the lion, only to get chewed up by the hyper-kinetic blaster carbines the masked troop were carrying.
Aside from tactics that happened without thought, which was a nod to training well beyond the scope of Elysian Army schools, their armor was amazing. Some had taken hits from blaster bolts straight to the chest, seemingly knocking them out of the fight for good. The rest of the team would put several bolts into the threat, allowing the recovering warrior to get the killing stroke. They were also silent as they moved through the structures most likely talking over some encrypted communications system within their fully enclosed helmets. They spoke out loud when they had to convey anything to Latisha's squad.
The Dreadmarr leader stopped his men. He knelt down, tracing his finger along something in his way. He looked past both of his shoulders, making a twirling hand with his finger before stalking back to Latisha. “We can't continue this way. They mined this section of the building. Even if we found a way upstairs, we're detecting explosives there as well. We can disarm it, but that would take time.”
“Can we go back on the street?” Latisha asked, taking a sip of water from her pack.
“We can. The way they set the trap, it seems that we're being funneled.”
“Like we're being herded into a worse trap or an ambush.” She wiped the straw for her drinking system with a sani-wipe from her kit. She stretched out the straw for him to take a drink.
“I'm
fine, thank you. We'll see what we're up against,” he said, tapping his helmet.
One of the other Dreadmarr nodded. He pulled something resembling a cell-com from his belt, fixing it to his gauntlet. He tossed several black marbles that rolled through the room. Ejecting wire thin spider legs, the tiny drones moved from sight with astonishing speed. A video feed appeared in Latisha's HUD, showing the six drones moving throughout the block. Just past the explosives on the floor above were twelve men armed with old looking rifles and an ancient-looking RPG launcher. The ones in the opposite building were better armed, some of their rifles even had grenade launchers attached to the bottom of their blasters.
“A cross-fire ambush,” Latisha observed. “Get us into the street and then shoot us like fish in a barrel.”
The Dreadmarr team leader nodded.
“I have a plan, as long as you're cool with it, LT,” Latisha said.
Marlan set down the battery pack for the PPC. “Sergeant, you somehow convinced a retired marshal to un-retire and track you across the planet for an epic level beat down between three warlords. If you say you got a plan, I want to hear it.”
Jabari flicked the ashes from his pipe against his boot. The slender neck of the smoker broke, spilling the bowl and the remaining ash onto the floor. He scowled, wincing at the pain that shot through his jaw and across his neck. The burn was savage, but nothing compared to the gaping hole in his cheek. He cursed the tape on the bandage for not sticking to his sweaty face, promising to take one of the aid kits from the first Elysian he killed today.
Nathaniel pointed toward the video feeds of the area. “Jabari, one of the cameras we left downstairs has an Elysian squad moving through the building. They're at the trap, looking for another way around.”
“Good looking out, brother,” Jabari said, patting him on the shoulder.
Nathaniel held out a roll of medical tape. “Sir, I got this from one of our men”
“Nathaniel, you are a good man. Not like these vermin they keep giving me. How many times did I say to watch for threats to our launcher? One of our own missiles hit us! But I stray. Call over to the other position and tell them to get ready.”
“Already done, sir.”
“I knew I could count on you. Thank you for the tape.” He gingerly tossed the bloody bandage to the floor, pulling a fresh one from his pocket. The gash in his cheek still had dusty splinters in places, but he would have to handle it later. The way to avoid being staked out in the sun for his failures was to save face by bringing in as many Elysian heads as he could. The safest way of doing that now was to get in one of the secondary buildings off of the main route. The crazy armored warrior with the red brush on his helmet was tearing his way through the principle route to the City Center. He knew his men didn't have the chops to take on someone like that, but a squad creeping through the buildings would be no problem. He taped the fresh bandage over his cheek, waiting for the shooting to start.
Two of the armored soldiers came from windows below, each rolling across the floor to land against the opposite wall. They fired a rod from their respective gauntlets into the next floor on the building they'd come from. Two arms rotated out of the projectiles, making them appear vaguely “Y” shaped. There was a pop followed by a hum as hexagonal energy patterns flared between them. Jabari's men on his side couldn't get a shot on them, but the ones on the opposite could. The duo jumped into the room of the new building, robbing them of their opportunity.
Jabari hefted his rifle with a growl that spelled out he was done with their incompetence. “Everyone shoot into the room they just left!”
The gunfire was short lived, followed by weapons jamming or magazines needing to be swapped out. The ward commander cursed them all as he continued to fire his weapon, loaded with an energy drum with a seemingly endless supply of bolts. He rained shots down onto the room, pulling the trigger hard as if by doing so would increase the rifle's rate of fire.
One of the armored ghouls came from the doorway below, brandishing a wicked-looking carbine. It was then that Jabari realized what the previous soldiers had done to the wall. The two rods had created an energy barrier deflecting shots from above. The newcomer calmly raised his weapon, shooting twice into the opposite elevated position. One bolt passed cleanly through the wall, as well as through the head of the man who had ducked there to change out his magazine. His head burst like a melon, spraying Jabari with its contents. The second blew a hole in the ceiling, dumping rock onto the screaming ward commander's head.
He rose to look out the window long enough to see an energy cannon on legs walk through what remained of the wall. Diving into Nathaniel, the pair evaded the detonation that took down that side of the building. From the safety of the stairwell, Jabari forgot about the pain in his cheek as he marveled at the destruction. Nothing from that part of the structure was in one piece and everything was on fire, even the stone, if such a thing were possible.
“We need to get out of here,” Jabari said, trying to be loud enough to be heard over the screaming coming from his men on the other side of the street, while not drawing attention from the enemy.
As if on cue, a warrior ghoul walked through the firestorm that was the room they'd just left. The blaze seemed to ignore his clothes and armor, giving him the look of some hell knight come to claim their souls. Jabari tried to bring his rifle to bear. The knight was faster, blowing a gaping hole through the weapon and his arm. Nathaniel tried to protect him, but was treated to a butt stock to the face. The blow sent the junior fighter rolling to the base of the stairs.
Jubari screamed in pain as the armored monster grabbed his ear on the injured side. Incoherent growling accompanied pain compliance with the captured lobe twisting the already brutalized skin. The warrior slapped him into the wall to make him more manageable on their way to gather up Nathaniel. The ghoul deposited them on their knees in the street in front of, what appeared to be, an enemy commander.
“What other traps are we going to run into along this route?” she asked, a translator node on her armor asking the question in multiple Sadosian languages.
“I am a ward commander for General Sorkabi! If you don't release us at once, he will make you suffer before he drives your bones into the sand!”
The warrior who captured them took hold of Jabari's face by grabbing his jaw through his injured cheek. The pain was so intense, he yelled as though he were on fire. His attempts to fight him off made the pain that much worse. The soldier dropped him, punching him in the neck hard enough to knock the light from his eyes.
Nathaniel woke to the sound of Jabari screaming. They’d struck him with the butt end of a rifle. His head felt like he'd hit every stair on the way down and his legs could barely support his dizzy head in a frantic bid to get up. Everything around him was struggling to stay still, which made standing straight incredibly difficult. It also made fighting nearly impossible.
“I won't let you execute him,” Nathaniel said in a halting Trade-2 with his knife extended.
The female commander spoke again, “Any traps we need to worry about up ahead?”
“No. There was just us.”
“Good.”
They turned, disappearing back the way they came, leaving the two militiamen broken and alone.
Twelve
“I'd forgotten how much I missed this!” Ajax said over the com. He was with his brother on the Promise of Dawn. Athena, the woman who'd locked shields with Marco against the mercenary-led push toward the depot was with them. Secured in the cargo bay were twenty Dreadmarr, dressed similarly to their commander except no one else sported a crest on top of their helmets.Two Mastodon Shield Walkers were locked in carry configuration and strapped to the deck.
“I'm sure there will be no shortage of fighting in the days ahead, brother Ajax.” she said, solemnly.
Marco raised his wrist, waiting for Hera's helmet to appear.
“Father Lion. The owls have stalked their way to Objective Roost. Your lancers are w
ith them, waiting on your order. The rest of Rook Oros has purged the surrounding buildings of militia with the help of Nokabwe's Citizen's Guard. They are holding position until we clear Objective Hornet.”
Marco tapped several keys in the holo display. “What of Rook Tychon?”
“I've received word they are in position.”
“The entire Rook?”
Hera sounded surprised by the question, “Yes, however I am not sure if this is a wise move.”
Marco cut the visual display, sending it to a small icon in his HUD. “Your concern is noted. Thank you, Hera.”
Retinal tracking in his helmet allowed him to switch channels at the same time he reviewed troop movements. The depot was secure, having the added firepower of the confiscated Raging Bull mech would help them if things got dicey. Rook Oros was positioned to take the fight to the enemy while part of Rook Noguera was kneeling behind him. They had one more barrier to remove in order to take the City Center. The expansive wall that protected the Center from the rest of the community was over a meter thick of duradium and resicarbon. An energy shield covered the entire length, including the reinforced gate. Dropping it was the only way to get an angle on the aerial drones protecting the government building.
Ares floated into Marco's HUD. “If those makeshift lancers of yours screw this up, this is going to be a real short trip.”
“Have faith.”
“Easy for you to say. If anything goes wrong, you can jump. I have to go down with the ship.”
Marco tapped the hull underneath him. “Something wrong with the new robotic frame we installed to replace the one you left at the preserve?”
“No. I'm sure it's fine,” Ares said with a bit more Reese than he probably wanted.
“Can we launch the ship now or is there something else on your mind, Ares?”
“Both you and Ajax get to lay down rage and glory. I get to stay with the ship. I just don't want my epic moment being the time I get smoked.”
The Sentinel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 3) Page 14
