Resolution (62 page)

The routed military forces, desperate to regroup, had their own commanders, each with his or her own ideas on what should happen next. The shuttles had continued to rise from Nulapeiron’s surface, and no-one had been turned away.

The Anomaly had not yet directed its attention to the rag-tag army gathering in the sky. Now was the time for someone to take control. Someone who knew what must be done to save the world.

What if I’m kidding myself?

The answer was obvious: Nulapeiron would be no worse off than it was right now.

And if I’m right
—

Tom walked around the chamber, planning. He would stand on
this
spot to deliver the difficult information. He would stand
there
to make light-hearted interjections when he needed to lift the attendees’ mood.

Every off-the-cuff remark Tom planned now, knowing he would deliver it with an apparent spontaneity that even Lord Velond or Lord Linski would applaud. He rehearsed the full sequence of tactical displays in his mind, knowing how the chamber’s lighting and his stance would shape the attendees’ perceptions: the thoughts and feelings of those who commanded the last free forces in the world.

I
have to get it right.

Again.

From the beginning ...

Tom rehearsed the whole presentation through, over and over. Then he waved the display out of existence, sat on the tabletop, and waited.

And waited.

While the hours passed.

Finally, as morning brightened the chamber and hard sunlight splayed across the blue-and-white floor, Tom looked up at the ceiling and said: ‘It’s time.’

A welcome aroma drifted from a side-chamber.

‘Thank you, Axolon.’

Tom slid off the table, onto his feet.

‘Summon the commanders now.’

~ * ~

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NULAPEIRON AD 3426

Polite murmurs did little to hide the tension as the various commanders and delegates took their places around the long conference table. Others took seats among the rows which spread out to either side, leaving a space clear from which Tom could address them.

He smiled and nodded, just a little, as they filed in.

Trevalkin. I wish you were here now.

At that thought, a sardonic laugh echoed inside Tom’s mind, though he kept his expression blank. Trevalkin was too treacherous to trust; but his support in this could have swung things Tom’s way.

So I’m on my own.

That was the way it had always been when the crunch came.

Until I get these people behind me.

Tom wore his black tunic with the red insignia emblazoned on the front. Later, he planned to stroll around the terraformer sphere with Jissie beside him, if the day was a success; but for now there was business to transact. The terraformer’s upper levels were clear of children.

In the skies outside, flyers hovered, and that was a danger: that Anomaly-controlled forces might notice the activity and grow curious. It could not be avoided: this was something that Tom had to do in person, as Lords Velond and Linski had taught him so many years ago.

I
hope I live up to your teachings, my Lords.

At the table’s far end, Elva was seated with Adam Gervicort to her right, Kraiv on her left. Next to Kraiv sat a narrow-bodied man with long arms roped with muscle: Volksurd, cousin to Queen Lima and ruler of Clan Hetreece ... of those who survived. Both Kraiv and Volksurd bore copper helms thrown back across one shoulder, hanging from straps. Their morphospears stood against the wall.

Around the main table, in addition to the carls, sat the commanders that Tom considered most valuable to the cause. Some were natural allies; others were here to pursue agendas of their own. Already, cliques had been forming in private meetings in the halls and docking bays outside.

Beside Volksurd, Captain Goray took his seat. Goray’s Liege Lord, Count Dvalkin, had died before his privy council’s eyes when metallic
others
appeared from nothingness inside the Star Chambers and cut down the highest ranking nobles first.

Tom mentally reviewed names and biographies at lightning speed: Goray, who, slim and soft-looking, had led a team of battle-hardened Dragoons who cut and blasted their way to freedom; Vintranne Zhoframinova, tactician and combat instructor for the Rohlmay Spectaculars; Lady Xamila, wide-eyed and trembling, but commanding an impressive regiment of Palace Guards; Truholm Janix, bearded Lord and Academician, an unknown quantity; and a brother and sister of the House A’Vinsenberg, noble-born but gazing at Tom with worshipful eyes; finally their aide, angular-bodied and ebony-skinned, Lieutenant Xim eh’Gelifni.

Then there were key players whom Tom could not be sure of manipulating, such as Lady Flurella: white-haired and crimson-eyed, most malevolent. Her burning desire for revenge was directed at the alien
things
which had despoiled her realm. (Tom would not want to number among her enemies.)

Ankestion Raglok was purple-skinned, his black eyebrows formed of graphite crystals, his eyes green with horizontal slits. Two of his clone-brothers stood near the wall. Twenty-three separate clone-clans had escaped the realm known as Druvogue Fastness.

And then there was General Lord Ygran.

The general was white-moustachioed, a senior officer who had served as a colonel under Field-Marshal Lord Takegawa during the Rikoshine Revolt, promoted to General on the battlefield. Ygran was experienced in the enormously complex politics of melding disparate allies into a joint fighting force, despite differences in protocols and command structures and the diverging goals of their separate realms.

Corduven had admired him.

Tom knew enough military history to realize that wars had been lost because a commander-in-chief was unable to organize mixed forces under one aegis. Of the military leaders that Tom knew about, only Lord Takegawa, Corduven’s mentor in military logosophy, was better qualified than Ygran.

But according to Fire Watch reports which Tom had no reason to doubt, Field-Marshal Lord Takegawa had recently taken a battalion into action in the former Realm Boltrivar, destroying significant sections of the encroaching front line, until Absorbed components that had never been human materialized amid swirling black flames, and tore apart the senior officers one by one. Takegawa, just as the Anomaly reached into his brain and began Absorption, turned his graser pistol upon himself, blasting his own head out of existence.

Perhaps we‘re the best of what’s left.

Elva. Adam. Kraiv. Volksurd, the carls’ leader. Pale Captain Goray. Vintranne Zhoframinova, capable and professional. Lady Xamila, afraid but commanding strong forces. Truholm Janix, intellectual, character unknown. The A’Vinsenberg siblings and the tough-looking Lieutenant eh’Gelifni. Lady Flurella, the malevolent albino. Ankestion Raglok and his clone-brothers: Academy-trained members of an elite long-range penetration squadron. General Lord Ygran.

You‘re the key, Ygran.

There were nearly two hundred others crowding in now: tactical officers, aristocrats with little to offer by way of military force or competence, technical researchers, experienced partisans who had already fought in Anomaly-dominated demesnes. Lady Renata had a seat near the door.