Weapons of War (34 page)

Donovan and Kraeger met Soon and Ehri outside, along with the remaining rebels, six in all. They had lost over two-thirds of their forces.
 

They had killed a lot more of the enemy than that.

Ehri's mech was a mangled mess, one of the arms missing, the other twisted into an ugly shape. The legs were badly damaged, and there were score marks across every inch of the armor. Somehow, she had kept herself facing the onslaught and prevented the cockpit from being hit. She had jumped out of the machine sweaty but unharmed.

Smoke rose all around them, the field outside littered with dead clones, a downed transport, four destroyed mechs, and even a crashed Dread fighter. It was an unexpected and impressive victory. One that Donovan had never imagined he would live to see.

"We can't linger here long," Ehri said. "The Domo'dahm will be furious at the losses."

"Good," Kraeger said. "It's about time he's the one upset about losing. I'm willing to wait for round two."

"I'm not," Donovan said. "What we did here was a start. Our first victory. Now our job is to make sure it isn't our last."

"It won't be," Soon said. "There's another mech inside the hangar with your name on it, Major."

Donovan considered for a moment before shaking his head. "It'll make us too easy to track. We should go on foot."

"It will shorten the time to Austin considerably, Major," Ehri said. "And will not reduce the fury of the Domo'dahm's retaliation. Besides, the resistance may need the relief these weapons can provide."

"What about the rest of us?" Kraeger asked. "We're supposed to walk?"

"There's a slug looking thing in the hangar, too," Soon said. "Ehri says it's ground transportation."

"A Ped'ek. An armored carrier," Ehri said. "Once used to collect humans for processing. It has been dormant for some time, but it should still be functional."

"Processing?"

"In the early days of the invasion humans were collected for testing, to determine the proper genetics for splicing. This went on for twenty years or so until enough positive samples had been collected. The transports were used to ferry the prisoners to the testing facility."

"Why not put them on a regular transport?" Donovan asked.

"They didn't want to soil the ships by allowing contact with human flesh."

"What?" Soon said. "I don't get it. The Dread are mixing genes with us."

"By necessity, Captain. Not choice. Make no mistake, the Domo'dahm and many of the drumhr are disgusted by humankind. The clones are tolerated because they are clones and as such considered clean. Some of your ways are being adopted because they will prolong the race. It is all out of need, not desire."

"Okay, but then it won't be equipped to be driven by a human, will it?"

"A mech should be able to pull it quite easily."

"Monster two-oh?" Soon said. "It's a decent upgrade."

"That tractor saved our lives," Donovan said.

"May she rest in peace," Kraeger said, making the sign of the cross toward the remains of the vehicle. "Let's not dally, Major. We've got a war to win."

Kraeger headed off toward the hangar, leaving the others to watch him go.
 

"He killed Murphy," Donovan said.

"And countless others," Ehri replied.
 

"He's also a good fighter," Soon said. "I don't know what his background is, but I think he was trained by the military."

"He might have grown up as part of the resistance. That would explain his self-proclaimed soft spot. You're a pretty good fighter yourself, Captain."
 

"I have a lot to live for," Soon replied.

"We all do," Donovan replied. He stepped over to the remaining rebels. "Good work, all of you. I'm sorry I don't know you very well, but I hope to get the chance to. We're going to be heading to Austin, Texas. There's a resistance base there. Will you be coming?"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, sir," a woman with short hair and a scar on her cheek said.

"Me neither," one of the others said.

"Let's give them Hell, Major," a third replied.

"Absolutely."

The Hunter remained out of sight.
 

Watching.
 

Waiting.
 

He had seen the battle. He had followed from the tomb of his brothers, beneath the crashed ship where he continued to observe. The druk'shur had captured their equipment. Their weapons. Their armors. They had done what none of the pur'dahm ever believed possible.
 

They had challenged the might of the bek'hai, and they had survived.

It was a difficult outcome for him to accept. He knew without question that the bek'hai were the superior race and that the pur'dahm were the most superior of the species. And yet, his two surviving brothers had chosen to chase after the Heil'drek while he had chosen to remain. Was it truly cowardice, as his brother had claimed? Was it caution?

Or was it something else? Something more visceral, more powerful? He was Lex'el dur Rorn'el. A splice from the line of the Domo'dahm himself. He had more reason than most to want to prove his line. More reason than most to want to quell the spreading infection of humankind, to stop the return of their cancerous grip on the planet.
 

Had he stayed behind because he was afraid, or had he remained because the challenge was not great enough?

He knew the answer for himself, and his brothers had failed to survive to question it. That was just as well. They had always been inferior. Weaker. Slower. Less skilled. None of them could question that. Not when he was the champion of the Cruhr dur bek. Not when he had been undefeated for over two years.
 

He wasn't
a
Hunter.

He was
the
Hunter, and he had chosen to allow the humans their victory. He knew that it would be short-lived, and when he returned to the Domo'dahm with the Heil'drek's head, and with Ehri dur Tuhrik's head, he would be the one to claim his rightful position in the Domo'dahm's cell.
 

To the victor went the spoils.

The Hunter remained out of sight as the humans emerged, no longer exposed but within the armored safety of a pair of gur'shah and humorously trailing a ped'ek. He tightened his uneven lips to prevent himself from laughing at the absurdity, and then opened his mouth in surprise as the mechs stopped walking and the people in the ped'ek disembarked, turning to face the facility.
 

Then the larger human took something in his hand and held it up toward the base. He flicked his finger, and the ground began to shake. Flames and debris spewed from the open areas followed by billowing smoke, and the humans shouted and cheered.

Then they returned to the vehicle and resumed their motion away from the base.
 

The Hunter shifted his position beneath the ruined transport to watch them, tracking their direction and velocity.
 

When they had passed, he pulled himself from beneath the wreckage, climbing to his feet and adjusting the feed to his oxygen tanks. He would have to risk breathing the heavier outside air, or he wouldn't have a large enough supply to follow.

He bent down and retrieved his two lek'sai from the dirt, carefully rubbing them clean on the corpse of a nearby human before returning them to their sleeves on his back. His rifle had been damaged in the crash, but that was well and good.
 

He preferred to get close to his prey.

He looked to the north, where the humans were quickly vanishing over the horizon. He couldn't match their pace on foot, but that too was well and good.

He was the Hunter.
 

He could be patient.

Tea'va stared out of the viewport, his emotions crossing between surprised confusion and impressed respect. The human ship had definitely turned to face the fortress, and now he could see that they had launched their starfighters, the intent of their actions clear.

The Heil'shur and his allies intended to attack. It seemed ridiculous and impossible. What could they be thinking? Gr'el would surely chew them apart.

Tea'va paused to reconsider. Maybe not. Gr'el had been forced to kill a large number of the drumhr on the ship to cement his rise to command. He had also been required to destroy all of the original lor'hai, save for Zoelle and her scientists. While the cloning facility had turned out two replacement batches so far, it was still a number fewer than the ship originally carried.

If the humans had discovered how their technology worked, was it possible they would be able to mount an effective attack? Clearly, they were going to try.

A warning tone began to sound from his terminal as it would at every terminal across the ship, calling all available soldiers to battle. His lips parted in a crooked smile at the sudden turn of events. If the humans managed to cause enough of a diversion, there was a chance he could recover after all.

He kept watching the viewport while the first two squadrons of gi'shah launch away from the ship toward the interlopers. His gaze was intense as the two sides closed the distance between one another. He was sure the Heil'shur was out there. Which one was he?

Three of the ships turned back, giving chase to the gi'shah who were targeting the starship. Two continued forward, dodging the plasma defenses and drawing nearer to the fortress. He saw one of them nearly collide with a gi'shah and then make a smooth flip, let loose a stream of fire, flip and continue again. The Heil'shur! It was him. He was certain of it. Instead of feeling angry, he was nearly gleeful. Let Gr'el deal with that!

He tore himself away from the viewport. It wouldn't serve to linger here. He moved to the door and opened it.
 

Two soldiers remained outside his quarters. The others had gone running to their battle stations. They turned to face Tea'va, raising their weapons toward him to threaten him back inside.

"You are to be retired," one of them said. "Uphold your honor."

"Honor?" Tea'va said.
 

He pushed himself forward like a dart, using his hands to slap the soldier's rifles aside. He punched the first in the face, his palm up and out, shoving into the clone's nose. He heard the wet crack of cartilage and the soldier fell to the ground. He spun on his heel, his opposite leg sweeping up, slamming the second soldier's rifle again with enough force that it nearly turned the clone around. He stepped forward, grabbing the soldier's head and twisting until his neck broke.
 

"That is what I think of Gr'el's honor," he said, bending down to pick up one of the rifles.
 

He headed across the corridor. The fortress was still fairly quiet, the rush of its personnel already finished. They had gone to their stations to help in the fight and left him alone to move as he wished. Gr'el was a fool to leave him with only two guards. He was being treated like a failed drumhr, not a pur'dahm of the Second Cell. It was insulting, and he was sure his rival intended it to be that way.

It didn't matter now. The humans had given him the distraction he needed to get free. Now that he was out, he could make his way to the bridge, kill Gr'el, and regain control of the Ishur.
 

He stopped himself a few steps later. What if the humans had figured out how their technology worked? What if they had a plan? What if the infighting between himself and Gr'el had given them the opening they needed to win the battle?

It continued to seem impossible. The firepower of a bek'hai fortress against a ship without any offensive capabilities? How could the humans possibly win against that? Except Gr'el wouldn't be able to field half of the starfighters, or control half of the gun batteries.
 

Maybe it wasn't completely impossible after all.

He ran along the corridor until he reached another viewport. He looked out in time to see two of the human starfighters rush past, tracking down the side of the ship and out of view. He found the larger starship, taking heavy fire but still vectoring toward them.