Donovan might not have agreed five minutes ago. Now he simply nodded before glancing over at Soon one last time, using all of his strength to keep himself together.

  “We have three pilots,” he said, a chill running through him in response to the words. “We can take three mechs.”

  Then he started walking, certain he was as big of a piece of shit as he felt like, but not knowing what else to do.

  29

  Donovan checked his sensors, keeping an eye out for the familiar and at the same time unwanted display of more than their three targets on the HUD, happy to find that it remained clear.

  His mind wandered as he steered the mech back toward Austin, leading Ehri and Orli as they returned to the rebel base with the added weaponry, bringing the count of functional armors to five. It didn’t sound like much, and after what had happened it didn’t feel like much, but Donovan would take what he could get.

  At least Soon hadn’t died for nothing.

  Had he?

  Donovan had dealt with the loss of soldiers before. He had dealt with the loss of loved ones as well. His mother. Diaz. Matteo. He was used to people dying around him. That was the world he was born into. The world he had grown up in. Even so, Soon’s death was lingering, weighing on him like the mech he was riding in.

  It was his fault the man was dead. His fault his wife would never have a chance to see him again. His fault they would never have the child they had wanted. He should have listened to Kroeger and killed the jackals before the jackals killed Soon. But how could he have done that in good conscience? How could he have just assumed the humans were bad when they were all supposed to be fighting on the same side?

  He didn’t know, but he still felt like he had made the wrong call. There was no going back in life, only forward, and so he was doing his best to shake it off and stay focused. It was just too new. Too raw. It was a struggle.

  “Austin Actual, this is Rebel One. Do you copy, over?” Donovan said. They were getting close enough to the base their shorter range signal should have made it through to the loop station.

  “This is Austin Actual,” Colonel Knight replied. “I hear you, Major. What’s your status?”

  Donovan opened his mouth, closed it, thought for a second, and then spoke. “We had a run in with a jackal pack,” he said. “Some group Kroeger said was called the Innocents. We have three mechs, but we took a pair of casualties.”

  He could hear the quiver in the Colonel’s voice when she answered. “Acknowledged, Major. I’ll expect a full debriefing when you return.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then Colonel Knight came back on. “Who did we lose?”

  “Corporal Wilkins, and Captain Kim,” Donovan choked out.

  “Oh. Donovan, I’m sorry,” Colonel Knight replied. “Damn it.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “What’s your ETA to Checkpoint Alpha?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Donovan replied. “I’ll.” He paused as his sensors picked something up to the north. “Actual, hold that thought. I’m getting something on my sensors.” He looked at the HUD. A single small symbol had appeared there. “Rebel Two, do you know what that is?”

  “Negative, Rebel One,” Ehri replied. “But it’s multiplying.”

  “Actual, have the scouts reported signs of a new Dread assault group assembling?”

  “No, Major, they haven’t. If you’re picking up something new, we need to know what it is.”

  “Affirmative. Rebel Four, take Sergeant Kroeger and Corporal Hicks back home. Rebel Two, you’re with me. Let’s go see what we’re dealing with.”

  “Roger,” Ehri replied.

  “Actual, I’m going to take Rebel Two and scout out the situation.”

  “Affirmative, Rebel One. You’re going to be back out of short wave communications range. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. Find out what your sensors are picking up and get back in range to report. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Donovan said, bringing his mech to a stop and turning it to the north. Orli continued toward Austin, while Ehri fell in beside him.

  They headed out at a fast walk, the mech shuddering slightly each time a heavy foot landed on the ground. The targets on the HUD were still multiplying, growing from a single mark to a dozen, from a dozen to a hundred, and from a hundred to still more. The sensors weren’t giving much indication of what was out there. While the Dread mechs would paint as friendlies, clones registered as unknowns. Even so, the size of the force suggested the Dread had landed another army somewhere else, and they were making their way south to the city.

  “Soon died fighting,” Ehri said. “It was an honorable death.”

  He felt a sudden tension fill him at the words. She always seemed to know what he was thinking. “I got him killed.”

  “You led him into battle. That’s what commanders do.”

  “I made the wrong decision.”

  “And yet he believed in you and supported that decision. Give him the same option again, and he would have done the same.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes. You’re a soldier, too, Major. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

  He sighed audibly. “Yes. I would. Without hesitation.”

  “Then why are you blaming yourself?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know. Maybe I feel like I should. Maybe because he survived all of that time in space, he survived our rescue; he made it all the way here.” He paused. “I’m so sick of the violence. The death. The war.”

  “That is natural. It is also not a reason for guilt.”

  Donovan considered it. “I know you’re right, logically. Emotionally? I’m struggling with that.”

  “Also natural. Just try to remember that he trusted you and he believed in you and the decision you made.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.” He checked the HUD again. “Looks like our targets are just beyond this incline. Let’s go in low and slow and try not to give ourselves away. We aren’t picking up any large assets, but you never know.”

  “Roger.”

  They slowed to a walk, crouching their mechs and lifting the feet only a foot off the ground before more tenderly bringing them down. It took a few extra minutes to near the crest of the incline this way, but it also prevented the shapes on the sensors to react to their approach.

  Donovan eased his mech forward, taking a few more steps up the hill. As he did, he began to clear the obstruction, starting to gain visual on the area ahead.

  He saw the rear of the column first. A few lines of soldiers, marching forward at a light jog. He stared at them for a moment before taking another step forward, gathering more height and becoming able to look further down the line. He felt his heart jump as he adjusted his view, zooming in on the scene below.

  The uniforms were all wrong for Dread clones. These were olive green, drab and simple. Their wearers weren’t identical either. They were male and female, dark and light, old and young. They were all on foot, each and every one of them, marching double-time in a column that had to be nearly four thousand strong.

  At the front of the line was an older man with a chiseled face, marching along with the rest of the troops. The only reason he stood out at all was because he was carrying a metal pole. Affixed to the end of it was a shred of cloth, a field of stars amongst a series of red and white stripes printed on it.

  “Rebel Two, run back to comm range,” Donovan said, barely able to control his sudden elation. “Tell Colonel Knight that General Parker and his rebels have arrived.”

  30

  Donovan was waiting for General Parker as the front of the army started climbing the hill. He left the confines of the mech, opening the cockpit and climbing out to stand on the foot of the machine, his hand raised in greeting.

  The General lowered his flag as he neared, a big smile piercing his otherwise rough face as he stared up at the Dread armor. He said something to the woman next to him, and the army continued onward, flowing around Donovan and continuing on, the soldiers closest to him waving and saluting but otherwise remaining quiet. It was obvious they had a lot of experience avoiding notice.

  “General Parker,” Donovan said, jumping down from the foot and greeting the man with a salute. He had never actually seen the General before, but the hardware on the jacket he was wearing made it clear who he was.

  “And you are, soldier?” Parker asked, returning the salute.

  “Major Donovan Peters, sir. Mexico.”

  Somehow, the General’s smile grew even larger. “Major Peters,” he said. “The man who started the Dread downfall. It’s an absolute honor.”

  “I’m just doing my part, sir. You’ve been at this for much longer than me. The honor is mine.”

  “Humble, too. I like it. We can share in the honor then, Major.” He looked up at the mech behind Donovan. “That yours?”

  “It’s the rebellion’s, yes, sir.”

  He moved forward and put his hand on it. “I’ve been running from these things for most of my life,” he said softly, the smile vanishing. “I never thought I’d get to touch one. I never thought we’d capture one.”

  “We lost some good people getting our hands on them,” Donovan said.

  “I’m sure you did, Major. We’ve lost too many good people. Too damn many.”

  “I sent my second back to Austin to inform Colonel Knight of your arrival. I expect things to get a little interesting once all of yours start pouring in.”

  “Not enough space?”

  “More than enough space, sir. We’ve got the city locked up tight. The Dread have failed to break it twice already. What I mean is that we’ll have a big enough army to launch an offensive.”

  “That’s the idea, Major.”

  Donovan pointed up to the shoulder of the mech. “Can I give you a ride? It’s not the most comfortable perch, but it’ll make a statement.”

  The grin returned to the General’s face. “I like the way you think, Major,” he said, holding up the flag again.

  They climbed the mech. Donovan slipped back into the cockpit, while General Parker moved to the shoulder of the machine. When he got there, he raised the flag high. Then Donovan put the armor in motion, turning it around and bringing it back down the hill, careful not to hit any of the soldiers as he carried the General toward the front of the line.

  It was a surreal experience. He could see the rebels around him. He could see the way their faces changed as they passed, carrying the flag through the line and toward the front. He could sense their excitement and their enthusiasm, even as they did all they could to keep a low profile.

  They reached the front of the line, continuing on. Donovan could see Ehri’s mech in the distance now, facing him and waiting. He could see Austin behind her, its mangled skyline taking on a new beauty in the dim light of the night sky.

  He kept going, a new sense of hope filling him. He imagined it would infect all of them soon, as the General’s forces began to mingle with theirs, and the plans for an assault were arranged. For fifty years they had been trampled on or used, taken or murdered, left so broken that all vestiges of civilization had been lost.

  Not anymore.

  Donovan reached Ehri. She reversed course, turning back toward Austin, syncing her mech’s motion to his and helping him lead the troops home.

  “Austin Actual, this is Rebel One,” Donovan said. “We’re on our way in.”

  “Roger, Rebel One,” Colonel Knight said. “I’ve already given the orders to get a welcoming party going. Fresh uniforms and Dread for as many as we can equip.”

  “I’m sure the General will appreciate it, ma’am. ETA-”

  Donovan was interrupted by a sudden burst of static over the comm, followed by a whine that registered loudly enough it hurt his ears.

  “What the hell?” he said, wincing as the internal speakers squealed again. A new symbol appeared on his HUD, and then the noise normalized.

  “Earth Rebellion,” a voice said through the comm. “This is General Theodore St. Martin, New Earth Alliance. Heh. New Earth. Forget that. Earth Alliance.”

  Donovan felt his heart skip. General St. Martin? He was still alive. More importantly, he was close enough to send them a message. He reacted without thinking, leaning forward and hitting a switch to activate the external speakers so General Parker and the others could hear it.

  “This message is being broadcast with all the juice this here starship can muster, which I’ve been told is quite a lot. We’re taking a risk to send it because we’re hitting the entire spectrum, which means the Dread are going to be hearing this, too. You know what? I don’t give a damn, and you shouldn’t either. Let them hear. Let them know.

  “This message is being transmitted from a starship called the Ishur. You think that’s a funny name? That’s because it used to belong to the Dread. It was one of their fortresses. Now it’s ours.”

  General St. Martin paused, as though he had known how they would react to the statement. More than one soldier on the field was close enough to Donovan’s mech to hear the message, and they forgot themselves when they did, whooping and cheering at the news.

  “We’re on our way back to our home system to pick up the rest of our people. To pick up our soldiers. To arm them and get them ready. Then we’ll be on our way back here to you. Back to Earth to reclaim what’s ours. To challenge the Domo’dahm of the bek’hai for the right to this planet. If you can hear this, you need to get ready. You need to be prepared. Whoever you are, wherever you are, if you can get to Mexico, get there. Fifteen days from now, the Ishur will be back in Earth’s orbit, and the battle for our freedom will begin. Fifteen days from now, the Dread occupation will end.

  “You want to be part of it? Get to Mexico. Fight with everything you have. Fight with your bare hands if you have to. Show these alien coullions that we never gave up. We never lost hope. Show them that they’ll never be rid of us. Never be free of us. Never have this planet to themselves. This is our home. Our Earth. You hear that, Rorn’el? Our planet. I’m coming, you son of a whore. You’ve got fifteen days to enjoy my planet, and then I’m tossing you and yours out on your ass. If you’re with me, be in Mexico and be ready.

  “General St. Martin, out.”

  31

  Domo’dahm Rorn’el shook with anger, his entire body quivering as he clutched the sides of his throne, holding them so tightly that his fingers scraped along the lek’shah. He had sent two domo’shah to confront Gr’el or Tea’va and the Ishur.

  Gr’el or Tea’va.

  Not a human.

  Not Theodore St. Martin.

  “What of the domo’shah?” he said softly.

  “Domo’dahm?” Orish’ek said. “I did not hear.”

  “What of the domo’shah?” he shouted. “The two ships I sent to destroy the Ishur. What of them?”

  “They have not returned, Domo’dahm.”

  “I am aware of that, Orish’ek. Were they destroyed?”

  “I do not know, Domo'dahm. We have had no word from them. If the humans have taken the Ishur, we should assume that they were.”

  “How?” Rorn’el said. “How does this happen? Their ship had no weapons. No shields. How did they survive? How did they capture the Ishur? It defies all logic.”

  He hissed softly, trying to release his frustration. He knew how. There was only one reasonable explanation. Zoelle. The un’hai. It had to be. The clones had always been willful, but lately, they had started becoming more and more troublesome. First, there had been Ehri, who had tricked him into allowing her freedom to study the humans. Then there was Orli, a Dahm of a research team who had stolen one of the few clone pilotable gori’shah they had and taken it to the rebel base in Austin and ultimately helped them attack one of their bases and claim the resources there.

  He forced himself to release his hands as they began to hurt from the pressure. He hissed louder, trying to deal with his anger. Zoelle. It had to be. Both Ehri and Orli were connected to Tuhrik at one time, as was she. His splice brother had done something to them. He had altered them somehow.

  He reached up and clutched at Juliet’s rosary. She and Tuhrik had been close. Maybe too close. They had both begged him to change the course of the bek’hai, to integrate more completely with humankind. He had insisted it was the only way they would survive in the centuries to come. He knew Tuhrik never agreed with his desire to exterminate the humans, but he never believed it would come to this.

  “How could you?” he whispered.

  Tuhrik had betrayed him. Juliet had betrayed him. She had taken the freedom he offered and used it against him. She had claimed to want peace while preparing her people for war.

  “Domo’dahm, what are your orders?” Orish’ek said. “How should we respond to this declaration?”

  “Respond? How else will we respond? If the humans are coming here to fight, then we will prepare to meet them.”

  “Domo'dahm, they took the Ishur. For all we know, they destroyed the other two domo’shah. We can’t sit idle and wait for them to come. If they have developed a new weapon, we will be unprepared for it.”

  “You heard the human, General Theodore St. Martin,” Rorn’el said. “You heard how he threatened me. How he challenged me. I will not back down. I will not respond with fear. You heard that he is returning to his home system? Pit’ek will be there ahead of him. He will find his home in ruin. He will find his people dead. The first victory will be mine, as will the last.”

  “Yes, Domo’dahm,” Orish’ek said.

  “That does not mean we won’t prepare for war. Send messages out to our forces. Tell the Dahms of the precepts to bring their domo’shah into orbit to wait. Order the consolidation of our ground forces back to the capital. The rebels in Austin have been difficult to dig out, but now we will not have to. They will come to us, and they will die.”