Weapons of War (12 page)

"Neither of those pur'dahm are Hunters," Ehri said. "They are strategists. Politicians."

"This is a game to them?"

"In the sense that they are jockeying for position within a traditional ranking system, perhaps. There is nothing jovial about it."

They returned to Rodriguez's office. Donovan felt the same fear and anxiety bubbling up a second time as he entered the room. Until he saw her, there was a chance she had gotten away. He needed to know.
 

He circled the desk, reaching the open passage. He didn't hesitate, pushing it open wider so he could fit through and allow more light to filter in.
 

Nothing. There was nothing. Where were they?

He looked back at the others. They were waiting for him to make a decision. Should they follow the passage and keep seeking his mother and the children, or should they head back out through the silo? There were no guarantees either way, but the silo was definitely the shorter escape route.

Diaz had lost Matteo and kept going. She hadn't insisted that they find him, as much as he was sure she wanted to. She knew that wasn't the world they lived in. He knew it, too. He didn't have to like it.
 

He did have to accept it.
 

All of these people were looking for him to lead them and to keep their small part of the resistance going. They had gotten the weapon to General St. Martin. Now their job was to get the ground forces ready. They had to rendezvous with the rebels in Austin and reconnect with the larger forces, before the bek'hai turned those forces into scattered remains like they had done here.
 

Maybe Ehri understood why he wanted to find his mother. That didn't mean it was the right decision. Not now.
 

"It's time to go," he said, leaving the passage and heading back the way they had come.

"Lor'dahm Zoelle," Tea'va said, looking down at the clone from his position on the command dais.

"Dahm Tea'va," Zoelle said, lowering her head to her chest. "I am at your service."

"Ilk'ash spoke very highly of you before I had him retired."

Tea'va watched the clone carefully, studying her reaction to the news. She flinched slightly but otherwise remained in place.
 

"I would be honored to prove my worth to you, Dahm."

Tea'va almost smiled at the response. It nearly sounded sincere.
 

"Tell me, Lor'dahm. Were you practicing copulation with Ilk'ash?"

"Dahm?" she raised her head only slightly, maintaining respect. "I do not know what this means?"

"Were you ever unclothed with him?"

"No, Dahm. Why would I do such a thing?"

Tea'va stood. He was pleased with her response. She didn't know that had she answered differently, he would have killed her as well. "Why, indeed?" He made his way from the dais, reaching the level of the deck and standing in front of her. "Look at my face."

Zoelle raised her head, looking up at him. Tea'va had never been this close to an un'hai before. He stared at her features. Her soft, pale skin, her blue eyes. She had a smell of Earth. Flowers and spices. Did the humans think she was a pretty thing?
 

He didn't.

"Ilk'ash also told me that you were unable to calculate the human starship's slip trajectory in time to follow. You and your team. Is this correct?"

She didn't buckle under the statement. "Yes, Dahm."

"Why not?"

"We failed, Dahm. We were not prepared."

Tea'va smiled. She didn't react to his crooked grin either. "Your honesty is refreshing."

"The Lore of the Bek'hai demands honesty from a lor'hai, Dahm."

It was true that their laws put this burden on clones. It was also true that few enough of them followed it. Especially the un'hai. Even after fifty years of modification, they remained willful.

"Have you since calculated the trajectory?" Tea'va asked. It was intended to be the last question he had that would decide whether or not he replaced her, but he had already decided. He would keep this one. She was properly obedient, even if her team was not adequately intelligent.

"We have, Dahm. The slipstream has a powerful course through the planet. Once the gravitational effects are factored in, the wave will have carried them approximately six hundred light years from this location, if they rode it to its terminus. Based on the calculated wave velocity and the distortion of the accelerated stream, there is a ninety-eight percent likelihood that they did."

"They will have gone beyond the limits of the stream's ability to carry them. Are there other streams they can join to vector away, or can we follow?"

"We can follow, Dahm Tea'va. Most of the way."

"Most?" he shouted, losing control of his temper. He clenched his jaw. "Most?" he repeated more quietly. He noticed Gr'el was watching him with intense interest. Tea'va knew the pur'dahm would seize any sign of weakness he could find. He had to get his emotions under control.

"As you know, the slipstream wave strength is variable. We would be required to remain stationary for six Earth days to join a stream that is of equivalent power."

"We can't afford to wait six days," Tea'va said. "How close can we get?"

"Within one hundred light years, Dahm," Zoelle said, remaining calm.

Tea'va nearly shouted again. He held his tongue.

"That distance might as well be six hundred light years," he said.

"Perhaps we should consider a different approach?" Gr'el said.

Tea'va didn't want to listen to his Si'dahm. It would look bad to the Domo'dahm if he didn't entertain the pur'dahm's words.
 

"What do you suggest?"

"We seek out the human settlement," Gr'el said. "We know from our scans of the smaller craft we destroyed that they have a limited range. I am certain with the help of the complete science cell we can limit the possible locations. We can destroy the remaining colony, and then wait for the starship to return."

"And what if they don't return?" Tea'va asked. "What if they choose to go back to Earth?"

"Why would they do that? They may have escaped with our technology, but they would still need to be able to integrate it with their ship. One ship, against all of ours."

"One ship that has escaped us twice already. The Heil'shur, who has evaded our defenses over fifty times. Do not underestimate them, Gr'el. That is why they got away to begin with."

"One hundred light years, Tea'va. You cannot argue with pure mathematics."

"If I might, Si'dahm," Zoelle said.

"Go ahead," Tea'va said, not waiting for Gr'el to answer her.

"I have already plotted a course that will bring us close to our most accurate estimate of their position, a system we have charted as Pol'tik. We believe this is where their slipstream typically fades."

"How many streams?" Gr'el asked.

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen?" the pur'dahm replied in disbelief. "It isn't possible for you to accurately calculate the relative positions of fourteen streams."

"Of course, the timing is not perfect, Si'dahm, due to the variable nature of the waves, but I have chosen a course that remains highly stable. The risk is minimal."

"Would you be willing to put your life on it?" Gr'el asked.

Zoelle didn't look at him. She looked at Tea'va instead, keeping her eyes locked on his. There was no fear in them, only confidence.
 

"We were not prepared before, Dahm. We are prepared now."

"What is the time in slipspace?"

"Four hundred thirty-two to four-hundred eighty hours."

"Dahm Tea'va, you can't," Gr'el said. "Both the lor'hai and the drumhr will become sick."

"Do you want to advance in the cell, Gr'el?"

"Yes."

"With risk comes reward. We will either return to the Domo'dahm as victors, or we will not return at all."

Gr'el lowered his head, surprising Tea'va with the strength of his submission. The pur'dahm understood the game better than he had even thought. "Yes, Dahm."

"Enter the calculations, Lor'dahm Zoelle. We will depart as soon as they are verified."

"Yes, Dahm Tea'va."

"You are dismissed."

Zoelle lowered her head to him, spinning on her heel at the same time and heading for the exit. The lor'hai that composed the rest of the bridge crew watched her from the corner of their eyes. Tea'va could see their interest there. Their longing. It was revolting. He decided he would meet her in private next time, so he wouldn't have to look at it. Nor would he have to deal with Gr'el's opinions.

"Dahm Tea'va," Gr'el said. "A word?"

"Yes, Si'dahm?" Tea'va said.

"I too would like to move up in the cell, and destroying the humans will be the impetus that will allow this to occur. As you are well aware, I am currently behind Orish'ek to replace Rorn'el on his retirement. I'm certain you also understand what that makes you and me."

Tea'va did understand. It was a delicate game they played. If they succeeded, Orish'ek would be out of the picture, but as commander of the Ishur, it would be Tea'va who took his place, leaving Gr'el still in the second position. At the same time, Gr'el couldn't sabotage the mission, or he would lose his place altogether. It meant that his Si'dahm would be plotting against him, even as they were working together. The pur'dahm was being gracious in warning him of his intentions, though Tea'va didn't need the warning.
 

"As I said, Gr'el. With risk comes reward. One of us will gain Rorn'el's position when he retires. The other will be dead."

"My great-grandfather grew up here," Diaz said, her eyes scanning the scattered ruins of the city.

"San Luis Potosi," Ehri said. "Population four million at the time of the invasion."

"Your invasion," Diaz said.

"Not hers," Donovan replied. "The bek'hai. Ehri didn't exist before they arrived. It's ignorant to blame someone for something they didn't do."

Diaz glared at Donovan. Ehri raised her hand, playing peacemaker. "It is human nature, Major. Racial inequality persisted for centuries because of the sins of your forefathers. Besides, I'm willing to accept the derision."

"You shouldn't have to deal with derision," Donovan said, glaring back at Diaz. "Especially from your allies."

He didn't blame Diaz for her mood. They were all in poor spirits, after having spent the last twenty days on the road from Mexico. It was a grueling journey, slowed by their need to travel on foot, slowed even more by the frequent flyovers the Dread were making in an attempt to locate them. They had covered a little over four hundred kilometers in that time. It was a snail's pace as far as a Donovan was concerned, and it left him worried on a daily basis that the war would be over and lost before they ever arrived at the resistance base in Austin.

If there was still a resistance base to arrive at.

The pace was only one of their problems. The weather hadn't been favorable, the onset of summer leading into rising temperatures, high humidity, and an overabundance of mosquitos. They were fortunate malaria, and other insect-borne illnesses had been stamped out years ago. The loss of so many humans had given nature a chance to rebound, and the mosquito population was no different. While the Dread clothing made most of their bodies immune, their hands, necks, and faces were still exposed and had been fed upon freely. The summer weather had also brought the rain, daily thunderstorms and downpours that benefitted them by making them difficult for the Dread to track, but also left them constantly damp.
 

They had reached the outskirts of the city the night before, waiting until the sun had ridden high before moving into the ruins. It meant dealing with the heat, but that was better than dealing with the Dread, who they had found tended to avoid the direct sunlight when they could. Ehri had said the intensity would degrade their armor faster, reducing its effective lifespan from two thousand years to closer to eighteen hundred. Donovan had thought she was joking at first. She had reminded him to try not to think like a human. For a race the age of the bek'hai, such things were worth consideration.