He gave Donovan a half-smirk and headed off, returning to the ground unit where he had been assigned.

  “Asshole,” Donovan said softly to his back. He still wasn’t sure if he liked Kroeger or not, but he couldn’t deny the man was a survivor.

  “Excuse me, Major?” General Parker said, having overheard him.

  Donovan turned to face the General, saluting as he did. “Sir. Not you, sir. Sergeant Kroeger.”

  “An interesting character for sure,” General Parker replied. “I’ve seen a lot of people like him out in the human wasteland.”

  “Those are the people we’re fighting to save?”

  “Yes. We can’t discriminate, even if sometimes we wish we could.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Donovan kept his eyes on the General, waiting for him to announce his intentions. He had learned over the last two days that it was one of the General’s strongest, most subliminal traits. He had a confident, commanding presence about him, one that made soldiers want to be still and listen or wait to be addressed. He was a leader. A true leader, who had taken over the Austin operation on his arrival and within eighteen hours had everyone in it following his command without question. Donovan admired the quality.

  He also admired the man. Stories about General Parker had started circulating when his army from New York had arrived. Stories about his bravery and sacrifice, about his strategic genius and his fatherly demeanor. He had not only held things together as the situation had gotten worse in the northeast, but he had also overcome it, adding to their numbers even while they couldn’t put a scratch on the Dread.

  “I was going to talk to you about this later at the officer’s meeting, but I thought it might lift your spirits a little bit to hear it from me right now. I want you to lead not only the mech unit but also the entire diversionary force, including the Bertha Brigade, as they’ve taken to calling themselves.” He smiled. “I’m also going to shift two companies over to your command to help with the external defenses. Both J and K Companies will fall under your flag.”

  K Company was Kroeger’s unit. It seemed they wouldn’t be parting ways just yet.

  “Major is a low rank to have that much responsibility,” General Parker continued. “It won’t affect your pay grade, but I’m promoting you to Colonel. Congratulations.”

  Donovan looked at the General’s face, and then at his hand. Colonel?

  “Yes, sir,” he replied, taking the hand. “Thank you, sir.” He knew his mother would have been proud of him for this.

  “I also thought you might want to meet your new squad mate.”

  “You, sir?” Donovan said.

  General Parker laughed. “I’d be honored, Colonel, but no. I need to help run the overall attack.” He motioned back to Colonel Knight. “Colonel Knight has been taking lessons from Ehri in private. From what I hear, she might be a better pilot than you.”

  Colonel Knight approached at the mention of her name. “I thought we were going to cover this later, sir?” she said.

  “Now seemed as good of a time as any.”

  “Colonel,” Donovan said, saluting her.

  “Colonel,” Colonel Knight replied, returning the salute. “Looks like I’m taking orders from you now, sir.”

  “I guess you are,” Donovan said, feeling a little uncomfortable with the role reversal.

  “We’re all professionals here,” General Parker said. “And we all want the same thing. There’s no need to feel strange about it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Donovan said.

  “Good. I recommend that you try to enjoy your last few hours of calm. It might be the last few we have for a while.”

  44

  “Domo’dahm,” Orish’ek said as he entered Rorn’el’s private chamber beside the throne room.

  Rorn’el turned at the approach, shifting his back toward the pur’dahm to avoid being seen. It was improper for Orish’ek to look on him directly, and he would be forced to retire if he caught more than a glimpse. For as embarrassing as the human form was, the legri’hai shape was even more of a failure, and one that he hoped they could one day forget.

  “Have you forgotten your place, Orish’ek?” he snapped. “Or do you intend to defy me as well?”

  He hissed softly at the idea of it. Too many of his subjects were proving to be less than trustworthy.

  “My apologies, Domo’dahm,” Orish’ek said. “I thought you would want to know that Pit’ek has returned. I have already ordered him to appear before you.”

  Pit’ek was back from his hunt for the human settlement? Did that mean the technology that had been delivered to them from the Ishur had worked? That was news worth being intruded upon for.

  “Excellent. I will prepare myself for the audience. What of our efforts to root out the un’hai?”

  “Sor’ek has assembled a complete roster of all of the active un’hai as you commanded, Domo’dahm. The report is within your data store.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  “Yes, Domo’dahm.”

  “What are your thoughts?”

  Orish’ek was hesitant to respond. Rorn’el turned slightly, glancing back at him from the corner of his eye.

  “What is the problem?” he asked.

  “Domo’dahm,” Orish’ek said. “Tuhrik was directly responsible for the creation of the un’hai, at your request.”

  “Yes. And?”

  Orish’ek froze.

  “And?” Rorn’el repeated with a hiss.

  “Domo’dahm, the un’hai compose nearly ninety percent of our science and technology focused lor’hai. This includes our splicing research, the assemblers, astronomy, and many other vital roles. Further, it was the un’hai Kehri’s work with the human technology that allowed Pit’ek to integrate the systems into the lek’shah.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Two things, Domo’dahm. First, there are very few, if any, un’hai that Tuhrik did not have any opportunity to manipulate. Second, it is clear from the actions of at least one of the un’hai that they are not all disloyal.”

  Rorn’el considered it. In his initial anger at Zoelle’s betrayal, he had been of a mind to destroy all of the Juliet clones and replace them with something more reliable. Now it was clear that not only was that not feasible; it also might not be necessary. Only some of the un’hai seemed to be infected with whatever damage Tuhrik had introduced to them.

  “Do we have any way to determine which of the un’hai might be traitorous?” he asked.

  “No, Domo’dahm. Sor’ek has tested the brain function of a random sample and has uncovered no discernible differences. An autopsy has also failed to reveal any obvious patterns to identify these copies.”

  “But it is possible his sample was too small?” Rorn’el said.

  “Yes, Domo’dahm. However, if there are only a limited number of tainted clones, it would be inefficient to continue destroying them in the hopes of discovering one.”

  “Of course. There is no reason to continue to focus on this. If there are more un’hai like Ehri hiding in our midst, they will reveal themselves sooner or later, and then they will die. As long as Sor’ek is certain this is not a widespread problem?”

  “He is certain, Domo’dahm. His estimate places one to three of these un’hai on each domo’shah, along with another thirty scattered among our outposts.”

  “Less than one hundred? Surely our pur’dahm can handle them if the need arises.”

  “Yes, Domo’dahm.”

  “Go now, Orish’ek. I must prepare myself for audience.”

  “Yes, Domo’dahm.”

  Rorn’el turned around again once the pur’dahm had left. He used the arms of his chair to lift himself to a stand, shifting slightly as he did. His legs cracked at the motion, and he hissed in pain.

  Old. He was getting old. He had taken Kesh’ek’s place nearly forty cycles ago, himself already fifty cycles in age. While his natural lifespan was hundreds of years longer, his days in the legri’shah ring had taken their toll, and given him reason to look forward to his retirement. Not now, though. Not while the humans were still trying to take the planet back from him. He would see every last one of them destroyed before that day came.

  He moved to the corner of the room, opening a small chamber there and removing a lek’shah mask from it. He lifted it out, lowered the hood of his gori’shah, and placed it over his scaled face. Then he raised the hood again, tilting himself downward to reduce his profile. He hobbled over to a second compartment, opened it, and looked down at the splintered cross he had recovered. It was no longer a symbol of peace of him, but one of anger and clarity. He had been too soft on the humans because of her. It was her fault he was in this position now.

  He closed the compartment and then headed out into the hallway between his throne and his quarters. He looked at both ends of the corridor, finding it empty, before crossing the short distance to the other side and entering the antechamber. Once inside he climbed into the darkened cage that was his throne and removed the mask. Then he activated his console, using it to move the throne into position.

  Orish’ek was already sitting in his proper place beside the throne as it moved into place. The pur’dahm did not look at him on his arrival. Neither did the others who were already present.

  “Bring him in,” he said a moment later, shifting his body to get more comfortable in his seat. The hatch at the end of the room slid open, and pur’dahm Pit’ek entered.

  The commander of the Ishrem bowed at the rear of the room, and then made the long, lonely walk to the front. He bowed again when he reached Rorn’el, sweeping his head so low that the patches of black hair on the sides of his head hit the floor.

  “Domo’dahm,” Pit’ek said nervously.

  Rorn’el stared at the pur’dahm. He could tell that something was wrong.

  “Did you locate the human settlement?” Rorn’el asked, feeling a growing sense of unease and anger in his gut.

  “Yes, Domo’dahm. We found the settlement. It was broken into five separate locations. We destroyed two of them.”

  “Two? Why not five?”

  “With your honor, Domo’dahm.” Pit’ek began to look more uncomfortable. “There were complications.”

  “Complications?” he replied, forcing himself to stay calm for now.

  “The Ishur arrived just as we were commencing the attack on the humans. They attacked us.”

  “And the shields?”

  “The shields were effective, Domo’dahm.”

  “What about the Ishur? Did they also have these shields?”

  “Yes, Domo’dahm, only their defenses were not the same. The modulation of their hull seemed very unstable. I would claim that our technology is superior.”

  “Then the Ishur was destroyed? This General St. Martin was destroyed?”

  Pit’ek kept his head low. “No, Domo’dahm.”

  “But you are not destroyed.”

  “No, Domo’dahm.”

  “Explain yourself, Pit’ek.”

  “With your honor, Domo’dahm. The Ishrek was destroyed, and the Ishur was deflecting all of our attacks.”

  “You just said their defenses were inferior,” Orish’ek said.

  “Yes, Si’Dahm,” Pit’ek said. “Perhaps they weren’t as inferior as we believed. They moved around the ship as though they were being controlled from the bridge. It was an interesting solution to the problems the scientists discovered.”

  “If the shields are effective, how was the Ishrek destroyed?”

  “They converted the plasma cannon to a solid plasma stream, Domo’dahm. I believe this was possible because they are using only a small portion of the resources available on the domo’shah. They are not supporting thousands, and they are not utilizing the factories. The stream held for many ticks, many more than we could possibly achieve. It is possible that they have upgraded the systems similar to the shields. I do not know, Domo’dahm. I am unsure. The stream appeared to overwhelm the lek’shah modulation and invert, creating a small wormhole which traveled through the Ishrem and disabled it.”

  Rorn’el felt his hands clenching into fists as he listened to the story. They had the perfect opportunity to destroy the human settlement, to destroy the Ishur, and to leave the rebels on the ground exposed when their expected reinforcements never arrived. Instead, not only had Pit’ek failed in his mission, but he had failed to die with honor.

  If entire wars hinged on single battles, this one would continue because of that failure.

  “I do not understand,” he said. “I told you that if you returned with the humans still alive your life would be forfeit, Pit’ek. And yet you returned.”

  “Domo’dahm,” Pit’ek said, bowing low once more. “We could not match the Ishur in offensive capability, and I believed that this information was more valuable than my sacrifice.”

  Rorn’el smiled, shifting his head so that light would catch enough of it that Pit’ek would see his sharp teeth. The pur’dahm drew back slightly at the sight.

  “You have done well to return this information to me.”

  “Thank you, Domo’dahm.”

  “Now that it is delivered, I expect you to fulfill the orders you were given.”

  “Orders, Domo’dahm?”

  “Yes. I ordered you not to return to me without having destroyed the human settlement, or to be prepared for your retirement.”

  The pur’dahm lifted his head slightly, ready to argue, before lowering it again. “Yes, Domo’dahm.”

  “Be glad I do not disgrace you by killing you myself.”

  “Yes, Domo’dahm.”

  “You are dismissed.”

  “Yes, Domo’dahm.”

  Rorn’el sat in silence while Pit’ek fled the room. He had no doubt the drumhr would fulfill his obligation to retire.

  “So, the humans continue to outmaneuver us,” Orish’ek said.

  “It appears that way. A plasma stream? It may have been effective against only two ships, but it will not be enough to save them.” He paused. “Order all of the domo’shah not attached to the capital to take up position in orbit and bolster the defensive net. Once there, they are to deploy their full complement of ek’shah and to have the gi’shah on standby for deployment.”

  “Domo’dahm?” Orish’ek said. “All of the domo’shah?”

  “You believe this is the wrong decision?” Rorn’el asked.

  “If the ground forces break through, it will make it all the easier for them to reach us.”

  “The rebel forces are not the problem here. They have a secure position underground, but once they emerge they will be decimated by the gi’shah before they can even get close. No. The Ishur is the real danger. They possess the firepower of a domo’shah, and the ingenuity to survive. It is a shame I will have to destroy General St. Martin. He would have made a fine splice.” Rorn’el looked at Orish’ek. “Why are you still here? Send out my orders.”

  Orish’ek hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say something else, and then bowed and left the room.

  Domo’dahm Rorn’el leaned back in his throne and closed his eyes.

  He would see the humans destroyed before his time came to retire.

  It was his legacy.

  It was his destiny.

  45

  “Preparing to join the slipstream in five, four, three, two, one, now,” Gabriel said, counting down as the Ishur accelerated toward the subspace wave, her large quantum phased fins stretched out around her.

  They shimmered and began to vanish to the alternate thread of time and space, pulling the main body of the fortress along with them. A few seconds later, the stars collapsed, leaving them in a place of infinite black.

  “Slipstream joined,” he said, turning to look back at his father.

  “And we’re on our way,” Theodore said with a smile. “ETA to arrival, Mr. Mokri?”

  “Five days, nine hours, sir,” Reza replied.

  “Three hours ahead of schedule. I hope the rebels don’t mind that we’re early.”

  “I hope they weren’t planning on cutting things that close,” General Cave said. He was sitting in the station right in front of the command dais, two seats from Miranda.

  As expected, the two days at the colony had passed in a blur, finding everyone involved with the war effort under increasing pressure to get everything organized and prepared. While General Cave and Theodore, along with Colonels Choi and Graham had gotten to work organizing a definitive strategy, Gabriel had been tasked with both training Major Ames on how to fly the Dread starship, and in keeping abreast of the status of the many other projects underway. It had meant a lot of shuttling back and forth between the Ishur and Alpha Station, a lot of walking through the corridors of both, and absolutely no sleep.

  He was tired, but he would never show it. He had wanted nothing more than to be the one to bring the Ishur into slipspace, and now that it was done he felt the sudden weight of his exhaustion.

  He didn’t realize he was yawning until his father called him on it.

  “Major St. Martin,” Theodore said, using his rank. “Are we boring you?”

  “Sorry, sir,” Gabriel said, feeling his face flush. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “Long? It went by like a dream to me. Give me a quick sitrep on our preparations and then head on to your quarters. I can’t afford to have my top pilot going into the shit with eyes half-open.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gabriel said, trying to remember all of the reports he had received in the hours before the Ishur had departed. “The Ishur’s current population is eight-thousand forty-four souls, including two thousand six hundred and forty civilians, one hundred and three clone soldiers, twelve keepers, three mature legri’shah, and an unknown number of cleaners. We also have five thousand two hundred and seven trained soldiers from the colony on board, who have been armed with three thousand seventy-two Dread rifles. It is expected that the assemblers will complete almost one hundred percent of the inventory needed for the infantry before we arrive.”