In Her Name: The Last War (142 page)

The big man - Mills, she realized, fighting through the fog in her brain - ran at the warrior, who dodged aside. He turned around to attack again, but before he took more than two steps he clutched at his chest as if he were having a heart attack, then crumpled to the ground.

Beside her, Allison charged the alien, brandishing a sword. But the Kreelan deflected the girl’s sword before knocking her backward. Allison tripped and fell over Steph, sprawling in the dirt beside her.

Grimacing in the pain from her leg and fighting the dizziness that threatened to again leave her unconscious, Steph reached down to her combat harness and pulled out her knife. Her mind had caught up with the reality around her. She didn’t expect to survive, but wasn’t about to allow the Kreelan to kill her without putting up a struggle.

“Allison!”

The girl was next to her in an instant. “Steph? Oh, God…”

Steph grabbed the girl’s hand and held on. “Listen to me. You need to run. Get away.”

“No! I’m not leaving you!”

They both looked up as Mills roared. 

Valentina was on her knees, the warrior standing over her, sword raised, as Mills ran at the Kreelan. Her blade whistled through the air, and the big Marine grunted as the sword slashed deep through his right shoulder, effortlessly slicing through muscle and bone.

But that didn’t stop him. A hundred and twenty kilograms of solid muscle slammed into the warrior. 

While the warrior was shoved back, right up next to Steph, she somehow managed to stay on her feet. 

Mills grappled with her, his good hand yanking the braids of her hair. He levered her head back and bit into her neck above her collar, his teeth sinking deep into her flesh even as she battered at his head with the handle of her sword.

Shoving Allison out of the way, Steph cried out in pain as she forced herself over on her side, plunging her knife into one of the alien’s sandaled feet and pinning it to the ground. 

With one final, titanic heave, Mills threw the warrior off-balance, and the two of them crashed to the ground.

* * *

Allison watched in terror as Mills, blood streaming down his chest from the terrible sword wound, clung desperately to the warrior. Behind them, she could see Valentina, still on her knees, watching the spectacle as her life drained away. 

Allison gripped the alien sword in her hand, determined not to run, but afraid at the end to die. 

That’s when Steph shoved her backward, away from the struggling titans, and rammed her knife into one of the Kreelan’s feet.

The alien gurgled a cry of pain, half her throat torn out by Mills, before he finally shoved her over, making her fall.

Right on top of Allison.

Without thinking, Allison propped up her sword, the handle on the ground. The blade pierced the alien’s back armor as the warrior fell right on top of it, and the glittering tip burst from her chest armor only a few centimeters from Mills’s neck.

Allison gasped as the Kreelan and Mills slammed down on top of her, driving the air from her lungs. But Allison didn’t have to suffer their full weight. Most of it was supported by the handle of the sword.

After a moment, the weight lifted as Mills rolled off to one side, dragging the Kreelan with him.

“Bloody hell, girl,” he gasped as he struggled to his knees. “Bloody hell.” Mills grabbed his right shoulder with his left hand, literally holding the flesh together. The sword had cut clean through his collar bone and part of his shoulder blade, and he could tell from the wet rasp of his breathing that his right lung had been punctured, as well. 

He looked up as a shadow fell over him, and Valentina, blood soaking the front of her uniform, slowly sank down beside him. Her face was deathly pale. “Ready for that margarita on the beach?”

Then she closed her eyes and slumped against his chest.

“Jesus,” Mills whispered, fighting away the darkness that threatened to take him. 

“You’ve got to get help, Allison.” Steph pointed toward the battlefield, where the sounds of the guns had reached a crescendo of growls, staccato pops, and booms, mixed with the fading roar of the warriors. “Hurry, honey.”

“Just ask…” Mills could barely get the words out as his right lung filled with blood. His heart was as broken as his body as he cradled Valentina, who lay lifeless against him. “Just ask…any Marine…for General Sparks.”

“General Sparks,” Allison repeated, and Steph nodded. 

But as Allison rose to her feet she felt a clawed hand grip her arm.

With a cry of fright, she looked down to see the warrior, staring up at her.

* * *

Ku’ar-Marekh felt the life flowing from her body. She knew the blade held by the human pup had severed one of the major arteries inside her, and she would bleed to death in but moments.

Beyond the pain, the thought gave her a sense of peace. 

Instead of the chill she expected as death came for her, she felt a growing warmth. It wasn’t simply a trick of her dying body, but was from the Bloodsong. She could sense it more fully as her blood soaked the loose earth beneath her. She began to feel the emotions of her sisters again.

And the Ancient Ones. She could sense them now, as well. All who had lived and died since the days of the First Empress were bound in spirit to She Who Reigned. Ku'ar-Marekh could feel them now, as clearly as those who now fought and died against the humans here on this world.

The humans. She had not expected them to best her, but she did not regret their victory. 

The small one, the child who had held the killing blade, was next to her. As the child made to stand up, Ku’ar-Marekh reached out and took her arm.

The young human made a small noise of fear and surprise, but did not attempt to flee. 

Ku’ar-Marekh released the child’s arm and instead held out her hand, palm up. Much to her surprise, the human slowly took it.

“In Her name, may thy Way be long and glorious, little one.”

Giving the human’s hand a gentle squeeze, Ku’ar-Marekh let go before closing her eyes and letting the warmth of death enfold her.

* * *

Allison had no idea what the alien had said, but in the moment that she spoke her final words, her eyes changed. Allison saw life in them, just before they closed for the final time. 

As the alien’s hand slipped away, Allison stood up and ran as fast as she could toward the sound of the guns.

* * *

Many light years away, the Empress stood upon the dais at the top of the pyramid of steps in the great throne room on the Empress Moon. She cast Her eyes upward, beyond the transparent crystal that formed the top of the gigantic pyramid that housed the palace, looking out at the stars. 

And at one, in particular. With a second sight that could see beyond time and space, She watched Ku’ar-Marekh’s last battle, and felt the priestess’s pain as the sword pierced her.

The Empress opened Her heart wide as Ku’ar-Marekh’s life bled away, releasing her spirit from the bonds of life, and the last priestess of the Nyur-A’il took her place among the Ancient Ones.

Across the vast stretches of the Empire, a vast wave was cast through the Bloodsong, an echo of the sorrow of the Empress.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

Allison had never run so far, so fast. Exhausted as she was, she knew that every second counted, and that the lives of her three friends depended on her. Even as she sucked air into her lungs, she bit her lip to drive away the fear that they would all be dead by the time she could get help.

She had never seen so much blood on a person who was still alive as she’d seen on both Mills and Valentina. And while Steph’s wound wasn’t as bad, she’d been bleeding a long time now. All three of them, Mills especially, looked like something right out of a vid about zombies that she had seen once with her older brother. 

God, please don’t let them die.
She forced herself to go just a little faster, wishing with every step that she had Race, her brave, dead horse to carry her. Wishing the Kreelans had never come to her world. Wishing them all to Hell.

As she ran, heading right down the road past her farm, she came upon more and more bodies. Most of them were Kreelans, but there were many humans, too. Marines, like Mills. 

And there were ships, both human and Kreelan. Many of the wrecks still burned, while others were nothing more than smoking piles of melted metal and plastic, surrounded by bits of debris. The stench of it, combined with the smell of blood and other bodily things she didn’t want to even think about, made her want to gag.

Around her, there were no cries for help or screams of agony from the wounded or the dying. None here, human or Kreelan, were left alive. The humans had all been killed, and the Kreelans, she had read, committed suicide. None had ever been taken alive. 

With a yelp, she dove to the ground as a stream of cannon shells whipped past her, stray rounds from the fight up ahead. 

She looked up after a moment, and found herself next to a Kreelan warrior whose dead, sightless eyes were open, as if staring at her.

“Get up, Allison!” She looked away from the nightmarish blue face, mustering the courage to go on. She couldn’t stop. Too much depended on her.

With a grimace, forcing herself to not be sick from the horror around her, she pushed herself up from the sticky pool of blood that the road had become and again started running. 

Mills, Valentina, and Steph. I have to save them. I won’t let them die.
She kept repeating that mantra, over and over, with every step through the nightmare landscape around her.

She slowed momentarily as the gunfire, which had become deafening the closer she’d come to the battle, began to taper off, then stopped. 

The silence that descended gave her a chill until she heard something she hadn’t heard in what seemed like years: people cheering. She could see Marines on their big tanks and on the ground, holding up their arms and giving voice to their victory.

“We’ve won!” 

The thought gave her a new burst of energy, and she ran toward the tank that was nearest her.

* * *

Sergeant Emilio Sanchez sat in a small patch of grass in the shadow of his tank. He was on the side facing away from the gruesome mass of dead aliens, leaning against one of the big road wheels. He could make out the smell of the charred paint and scorched metal from what was left of the tank’s skirt, a sheet of relatively thin armor that was meant to protect the vehicle’s vulnerable lower hull. 

A Kreelan had thrown a lightning grenade that had stuck to it, and Sanchez had been sure they were done for. 

They would have been, had not a lunatic commanding an infantry fighting vehicle driven alongside them, shearing off most of the skirt, the grenade along with it, just as the thing detonated. Both vehicles were scorched, but had survived.

Sanchez had every intention of making sure the crazy bastard got a medal and a case of beer as soon as he could figure out who it had been.

Taking another drag on his cigarette, he stared blankly at the original landing zone, toward the town, idly watching the columns of smoke rise from all the destroyed ships and vehicles there. Behind him, his crew and most of the others around them were hooting and hollering, celebrating their victory.

Sanchez just wanted to find a bar somewhere and get drunk, but he knew there probably weren’t any bars left open on the entire planet, and Confederation warships were “dry,” not allowing alcohol on-board.

“Navy prudes,” he muttered, disgusted.

Taking a last drag on the cigarette, he flicked it away. Following it with his eyes, he noticed something moving in the distance, coming closer.

No, not something, you idiot
, he chided himself.
Someone
.

“Pikula!” Standing up, he called out to his gunner, who was sitting on the turret. “Pikula!” he shouted, louder.

The woman turned around. “What is it, TC?” Her smile faltered as she caught the movement. “Holy shit! It’s a civilian!”

“It’s not just a civvie, it’s a kid!” Sanchez was already running toward the grimy, blood-spattered girl, who was gasping for breath as she staggered more than ran toward him. “Get the medikit and some water!”

As he reached the girl, she collapsed in his arms, her chest heaving.

“Take it easy, kid. I’ve got you.” He sat her down on the ground and knelt in front of her. “You’re okay now. Nobody’s gonna hurt you here.”

She shook her head. “Need…to talk…to General Sparks.”

He leaned back, shocked that she knew of Sparks. “Well, sure. We’ll get you up to see the general when we’ve got you taken care of. You’ve been roughed up a…”

“No, now!” She leaned forward and grabbed his combat webbing with both hands and shook him, a look of desperation in her eyes. “I have to talk to him…right now!”

Sanchez rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment as Pikula dropped to her knees beside him, offering the girl a canteen. 

Taking her hands off Sanchez, the girl grabbed it and took a single, greedy swig, before handing it back.

“Now,” she begged him. “Please, there’s no time! My friends are dying, or already dead. They need help.”

“Right.” Sanchez clicked the control for his unit’s general channel. “Captain Kamov, this is Sanchez. I’ve got a civilian here who needs to talk to General Sparks.” Looking into the girl’s pleading gaze, he added, “It’s an emergency, sir.”

“Roger that.” Kamov’s response was instant. Sanchez had had his disagreements with the man, but one thing the captain wasn’t was indecisive. “Stand by.”

Barely a few heartbeats had passed when a voice came over Sanchez’s headset. “This is Sparks. Go.”

Sanchez took off his helmet and gently set it on the girl’s head. “Just talk, honey. The general will hear you.”

* * *

Hands on hips, Sparks stood at the ragged edge of the killing field where tens of thousands of dead Kreelans lay, his cavalry hat shading his eyes from the sun. While on the whole it had been a massacre, the aliens had managed to kill another three thousand of his Marines. He shuddered to think what they could have done if they had chosen to fight with more modern weapons. In some battles, they did, and others they didn’t.