A Warrior's Sacrifice (24 page)

Corwin grunted. He was still so numb; his body felt cast in lead.

Chahal swaddled the now sleeping baby into an emergency blanket that she'd requisitioned along with the rest of her supplies and stood. "I'll take him back and give them care instructions." She turned to leave, then paused. "I'll make sure they understand that you saved him despite…" her eyes tracked up and down Corwin's blood-spattered gauntlets, "despite how it looked."

Corwin saw his body nod from the place where he floated, a slow, heavy nod of acquiescence rather than understanding. This was such a strange feeling, this floating thing. The body below moved to his thoughts, but with such sluggishness and time delay as to make it seem like he and it were communicating through lasers fired across vast distances of space.

"Corwin?"

He thought about moving his hands. Lo! His automaton doppelganger carried out his command. The blood that stained his sneak suit had darkened and even begun to fade; the living suit absorbed the blood, brimming with life and newness, for fuel. The suit's cells would break it down into its constituent elements and then recycle it — perhaps even into the pharmaceuticals that would keep Corwin alive, the great circle of life where the young worked and bled to feed the needs of the old.

"Corwin." A hand pushed at the automaton's body.

Time seemed to move slower in this ethereal realm. Corwin watched as Phae's arm pulled back then slogged forward in a parabolic arc.

Corwin's head snapped to the side as the powerful blow struck him square in the jaw. The suddenness of the impact, its ferocity, and the carnal nature of the pain that it engendered brought him back from that faraway place. He felt a prick at the base of his neck as his suit administered some healing nanites. He tasted blood.

"WHAT?" he said, leaping to his feet, fire in his eyes.

Phae thrust his helmet into his face. He had to catch it or risk it breaking his nose. The movement upset his balance and killed his angry lunge. "You have a message."

He slid his helmet on, and rage bubbled forth into a snarl as the Guard General, in all her reptilian smugness, bared her sharp teeth through the video message.

"Finish with the Human whelps. We leave at 1800 Earth time to assault the Choxen base. Give us victory or give us your lives."

Corwin ripped his helmet from his head with a growl. "We assault the Choxen base at 1800."

"What do we do until then?" Kai asked.

"Whatever you want." Corwin jogged towards the vacant city. He passed by Chahal who raised a hand to indicate she wanted to speak to him. He kept on running.

They found him in the bar where they'd eaten a few days before. The building was empty now, a few chairs resting askew from their tables. Behind the counter the scent of unwashed cups and plates mingled with beer that continued to ferment. Flies buzzed in their jendr feeding frenzy.

Corwin sat at a table near the front, a bowl of strawberries, a pitcher of cream, and sweet bread set out before him. He trimmed the leaves and stems from the red fruit with a knife.

The three other Maharatha paused at the door. With an unspoken word, Chahal and Kai split away from Phae and went into the back to find something to eat. Phae approached Corwin, slowly. She recognized the knife in his hand.

"You all right?" she asked, keeping the table between them.

"Fine." He continued to cut strawberries; their flesh stained the knife and his fingers. Juices dripped down into the bowl.

"I don't believe that."

"Sometimes," the knife flashed as it beheaded another strawberry, "you have to do things, awful things, and you have to be fine with it. I'm fine." He set the knife aside. Red dripped from the blade onto the table.

"Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like you did when we first met: withdrawn, hostile."

"A strange judgment coming from you." He stared at Phae, and she held his gaze until he snorted and looked away. Taking up one of the brown loaves, he crumbled it into his bowl and dumped the strawberries in afterward, then poured the cream on top. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm fine. It will all be fine. Everything's fine."

Phae moved to stand beside him. She pushed the knife out of his reach. "You aren't fine." She took his armored hands into her own. He didn't fight her.

"You had no other choice."

Anger flared up again behind his hooded eyes. "Didn't I?" The moment passed, and his head sank until chin touched chest. "Didn't I?" he asked again to no one in particular.

"No, you didn't." Phae placed her hands on his shoulders. "You saved his life."

"I tortured him! In front of his family!" It was a volcanic eruption, bright and hot and burning, but it faded just as it began. He sank back into himself. "I've scarred him forever."

"Those scars will heal."

Corwin brushed her hands away and stood, chair tipping over backwards. He flung the pitcher against a far wall, screaming, "THOSE AREN'T THE SCARS I'M TALKING ABOUT!"

Phae didn't flinch; she knew anger. "Neither was I."

Corwin breathed hard now, lost in a movie that played behind his eyes. Phae reached out and pulled him in close. Corwin sank into her embrace, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Corwin couldn't bring himself to … to what, he didn't know. Cry, maybe. That might have felt good right now, but he couldn't summon the strength. He was still too drained to
feel
, tired beyond any physical exhaustion he'd experienced before. He wanted to crawl into bed, pull up the covers and forget this world, his life, ever existed.

Corwin took a breath, inhaled Phae, breathed her back out again. Hugging tighter, he tried to make them one, a single flesh so that maybe her strength would be also his.

Their armor stood between them, a chitinous shell that kept them physically apart. Phae reached across that narrow gap to grasp her lover with tendrils of Sahktriya. She gave him some of her strength, took some of his pain, his burden — and bore it all with a sad smile.

Pulling back, Corwin looked at her. He was better now. He wanted to thank her but couldn't make the words. He kissed her on the forehead instead.

Phae looked at him a moment, nodded.

Corwin righted his chair and sat down. "Would you like some?" he asked, gesturing at the food.

"Sure," Phae said, sitting in the chair beside his.

They ate in silence, passing sad and knowing smiles back and forth, enjoying each other's company, relishing the brief moment of emotional calm.

Six hours later they were ready — emotionally, physically — and stood outside the Guard General's tent. She had kept her place within the Accession's walls. The burned husks of tents hadn't been torn down or removed; they remained a constant reminder of the Schism that threatened. Of the dead and injured from the previous day's battle, there were none; they had been lifted back to the safety of orbit and been replaced with thousands more, ready for battle.

It seemed the Order of Accession had far more resources than the Maharatha had first believed.

With Phae's encouraging hand on his shoulder, Corwin pushed the tent flaps aside and entered. The abode was as ill appointed as he'd expected. The welcoming warmth of the Diviner's tent seemed garish in comparison with the barren walls and floor of the Guard General's. A table stood in the center of the room, upon which rested a holographic projector. A map and data fields floated in the air above.

In the corner farthest from the entryway, the Quisling child sat on the floor, hunched to accommodate the wrist and ankle shackles that held him. He looked up with dull, passive eyes as the Maharatha entered. Flashes of fear, anger, and hatred passed across his face.

Huddled around the projector table, alien heads bobbed, and a low murmur of alien sounds — chirps, clicks, gargles, hisses— emanated from the crowd. Corwin picked up snatches of conversation as his helmet translated what it heard, but those snippets were disjointed and confusing.

Mobile Sergeant Shota stood off to one side, arms crossed, eyebrows pinched together. The Maharatha joined him for no other reason than Human solidarity. "I've been ignored since I entered," Shota said in a low voice.

At a hiss and a whip of the tail, the Guard General dismissed the gathered soldiers. They filed out, casting hostile glances at the five Humans. The Guard General approached, hands clasped behind her back, a toothy grin stretched across her snout.

"The plans are set. You four Commandos," she used the word most easily translatable from her language, "will ascend to low Earth orbit. You will combat drop with the main invasion force."

Corwin grimaced behind his helmet's visor. A "combat drop" essentially turned the soldier into a projectile weapon that could be delivered behind enemy lines with equal precision. The casualty rate was high but often well worth the price in lives — but it didn't make Corwin feel any better. He had the sense that she wanted to put the Humans into harm's way.

"I hope," Corwin said, "that you will provide us with power armor. Our current suits are for stealth and infiltration, not direct assaults."

"Of course. IGA rules stipulate that probationary Sentients be provided adequate arms and equipment when working in conjunction with IGA member Sentients. We will provide you with power armor aboard ship."

Shota cleared his throat. "Pardon me, ma'am. How would you like to utilize me and my—"

The Car-karniss commander cut him off with a hiss and jagged slash of tail. "You will go back to your governing body in disgrace. You do not get the honor of dying for our cause."

"Wh-what? May I ask why?" Shota asked.

"You are of no use to anyone. Leave. You have dishonored your species. These four may redeem this government of yours. Speak no more. Leave." Her tail thrashed in the direction of the door.

Shota turned to the Maharatha with a pleading expression. In that moment, he faced jendr before his peers and the politicians of the Beirat. He needed to make amends and somehow contribute to the recapture of the orb.

Corwin could have asked the Guard General to include the Mobile Sergeant and his unit in the assault so that a small part of their lost dreng could be regained. Instead, he stared back at Shota, his helmet impassive, cold, like his face hidden within.

As the silence stretched to an uncomfortable length, Shota's face changed. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. He jerked his head in a nod. Bowing to the Guard General, Shota turned and paused beside Corwin. "I will remember this."

Corwin stared back.

The Guard General hissed at Shota's back as he left the tent. "A transport awaits you in a clearing north of this tent. Go." She turned her back on the Humans, her tail just missing their shins.

With little else to go by, they jogged north, passing through the rings of soldiers preparing for war. The Humans didn't speak to one another. Fear twisted their guts and occupied their minds, Corwin's most of all. He'd expected some sort of briefing, but instead the Guard General had thrust them out into space. He felt that he was leading a group of soldiers who were already dead; death just hadn't caught up to them yet.

Their transport was a stubby thing. Three fins surrounded the rear rocket and a bulbous belly almost as round as the vehicle was tall. He would have refused to enter on grounds that it simply
couldn't
fly, but he held his tongue as three alien commanders, resting outside until the Humans' arrival, climbed aboard. Corwin led the way on.

The ship was not built for Humans. The aliens that had preceded them, a Groaton, Ordeiky, and bird-like Kraw'ka'ow, were all smaller in stature. The low ceiling forced the plumage atop the Kraw'ka'ow's head to bend backward, and it squawked and flapped its wing-arms in annoyance. The Humans could only move about by bending their backs and walking with deep bends in their knees; Kai had to shuffle on his hands and knees.

Crash harnesses hung against three padded walls. The Maharatha found a clear space and, with Kai sitting flat on the floor, watched the aliens secure themselves.

The Humans soon found that there was no sure way to secure the harnesses about their bodies through normal means. They made it work by lashing the harnesses about their persons however they might. Kai used two.

Kai had barely gotten his second harness snapped into the wall when the ship rose without warning and with a suddenness that made their stomachs lurch. The ship's acceleration drove them downward, and the crash harnesses in their jury-rigged fashion did little to absorb the forces that threatened to mash the Humans into the floor. Their suits were able to compensate, and after ten minutes of interminable crush and nausea, a violent shaking followed by weightlessness signaled their exit from Earth's atmosphere.

They drifted for a time, the ship thrusting, spinning at unmarked intervals as it aligned itself with its destination. After over an hour with their nerves frazzled, the stubby ship accelerated. Corwin had the sense, in a way that his own physical senses couldn't describe, that Something Great loomed like a predator in the night, an oppressive weight preparing to swoop down to carry away its hapless prey.

Then their small ship shuddered and something arrested their free-fall with violence. Their bodies whipped like rag dolls.