He paused, turning his chair to follow his instructions. Gabriel nodded to him as he did, and he nodded back before returning forward.

  “Did you take a good look? You might be thinking; this is it? We’re going to get our planet back with this? Hell, I know I am. Except this isn’t it. We’ve got good people on the ground on Earth, making their way to the Dread capital to put the pressure on their leader. It’s an army whose size we can’t even estimate because we can’t put a limit on how big it might be. It’s an army with the same strength and courage y’all are showing by being here, especially the civilians among you who didn’t need to come. Even so, you think that’s the only army we got?” He shook his head. “It isn’t. You see, we have ourselves a secret weapon. A weapon forged fifty years ago when those bastard Dread decided they wanted my Juliet. That she was a good match to make copies of and program as scientists and researchers. For those of you were left Earth with me, who knew Juliet, you can imagine what a mistake they made by letting her in. Even the most brutal bastard sons couldn’t ignore the peaceful, devout beauty of that woman.”

  He paused again, wiping at his face at the memory of her. His father had accepted the truth about Zoelle, and he wore a strong face in public, but Gabriel knew that he was still hurting over the revelation, and over knowing that his wife was truly lost to him.

  “We don’t know how strong our weapon is until we try to use it, but we’re going to find out. We’ve got a plan to turn the Dread infrastructure into chaos, and if it works? Hoo-boy, if it works, our victory is all but assured. Even if it doesn’t, I believe in the people I see in front of me. I believe in every man and woman on this ship. I believe in your strength, in your courage, in your energy and enthusiasm. I believe in your heart and your spirit and your love. I believe in humankind, in humanity, and in the truth that we’re going to give every last ounce of ourselves to see this thing through, to reclaim our planet, and to send them sons of bitches home. And I only have one question for all of you here: do you believe?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, along with a handful of others.

  “That was pathetic,” Theodore said. “Am I wrong about all of you? Tell me, do you believe?”

  “Yes,” a large contingent said, the sound of it echoing through the chamber.

  “Really? Then why are you here? Do you believe?”

  “Yes,” most of the people shouted.

  “Do you believe?” Theodore repeated one last time.

  “Yes!”

  The sound of it was so loud the room vibrated. Once more, the legri’shah answered the call, a massive roar sounding from deeper behind them, echoing out from the tunnels. It almost seemed to energize the crowd, and they cheered and hollered, leading to a greater response from the creatures. Gabriel’s heart pounded, his body and spirit energized by the crowd. He put his hand on the crucifix below his shirt, holding it tight. Whatever happened, he would remember this moment.

  “Gabe,” Theodore said, rolling over to him.

  “Dad. Good pep talk.”

  “Thank you, son.”

  “I’m not completely clear what you meant about our secret weapon, though. Do you know something I don’t?”

  “I do. But not for long. Kneel down next to me so we can talk for a minute.”

  Gabriel did, coming close so he could hear his father over the continuing sound of people cheering and talking, using the time they had as a group.

  Theodore put his hand on Gabriel’s arm. “I’ve discussed this with General Cave, and with It’kek. I would have brought you in on it, but I needed you rested.” He paused. “By the by, congratulations on your engagement. I’m sorry I didn’t get to hear about it from you. She’s a good woman, and she’ll take good care of you.”

  Gabriel glanced over to Miranda, who was talking to one of the soldiers beside her. “I know.”

  “We think that there are clones of your mother implanted on all of the Dread ships, at least one or two, but they don’t know it yet. You remember how Zoelle changed when she heard your voice, and she heard you talk about your mom and me? Well, we think that if we can get a broadcast across their network, we can turn them all on. Even better? We think that the Juliets can get more of the clones, and the keepers, to pitch in.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Juliet got real close with the keepers. She used to come and see them all the time. They bonded over their beliefs. Now, the keepers don’t want to fight, but they know it might be their only shot at breaking free of the prisons they’ve been stuffed into, and of not only saving the legri’shah but also increasing their population. There’s a lot of history there that we still don’t know, and won’t for some time, but it’s important to them and could make a huge difference for us.”

  “So why are you telling me this?” Gabriel asked.

  “According to Mr. Mokri, we can’t force the Dread to output our signal across their ships. While we’re pretty sure the Domo’dahm listened to our broadcast, it didn’t make it everywhere. We need to get a message out to all of the ships in the Dread fleet, emitted over their internal PA systems. Now, you would think we’d maybe have the ability to do that from here, but we don’t. Sure, we can open a channel from one bridge to another, but we can’t make them push the signal ship-wide. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  Gabriel nodded. “I understand. So how do we get the word out?”

  Theodore looked at him, hesitant. He bit his lip. It was as uncomfortable as Gabriel had ever seen him.

  “Dad?”

  “You know I love you, don’t you, son?”

  “Of course. I love you, too.”

  “It isn’t that I don’t believe in you because I do with all my heart. I just think it isn’t right a man should have to ask his son to do this sort of thing.”

  “What do you need me to do? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

  Theodore smiled. “I know you will. You’re a St. Martin.” He paused again. “Okay. Here’s what we need you to do.”

  Gabriel listened while his father explained the mission they had in store for him. It was nothing he would have expected. It was as close to impossible as he could have ever imagined. More than likely, it was going to get him killed, and if he failed it could mean the rest of them might die as well.

  When the time came to accept the assignment, he was honored to do it.

  48

  They could see the dark black carapace of the Dread capital long before they got close to it. It rose through the haze of the morning, blurry and frightening, a black splotch against clear blue. It resembled a wart, or a bruise, or a disease.

  To Donovan, it was fitting. The Dread were an infection that needed to be cured. A wound that had to be cauterized. Perhaps not all of them, not the clones like Ehri, if there were any more of them, at least. But the Domo’dahm and the pur’dahm for sure. They were the ones with the power. They were the ones with the weapons.

  They were prepared to use them.

  The rebels had been on the move for forty out of the last forty-four hours, finally nearing the massive fortress and the hubs that had once connected it to the other ships. They were still visible in the daylight sky, smaller bruises spread across the aqua, waiting for General St. Martin and his forces, whatever they might look like, to arrive. When? Today, sometime. In hours, minutes, or seconds? There was no way to know.

  They were all tired. The energy of General Parker’s rallying cries had been draining a little more with each passing minute, each heavy step, each slow blink of tired eyes. Somehow, the man had kept at it without pause. He was there when they stopped to rest; he was there when they moved again. He was there all of the time, pushing them, urging them on, proving why he had survived as long as he had, and giving them hope that they would survive as well.

  As the CO of the D Battalion, it was Donovan’s role to take the lead as they neared the fortress, ready to intercept any heavy mechanized resources and try to get them caught up in an extended firefight, or otherwise attempt to distract them from the ten battalions that trailed behind them, with their eyes on reaching the fortress and getting inside. It was no small task. They had no idea what was waiting for them up ahead, but judging by how eerily quiet everything felt, he knew it couldn’t be anything good.

  “This is Delta Battalion,” Donovan said across the open channel. “We’re four klicks out of Mexico City. Sensors are clean. No sign of activity up ahead.”

  “Roger, Delta,” General Parker replied. “I don’t expect it to stay that way for very long. You’re practically on top of them.”

  “Affirmative, Actual. If the Dread had any history of ambushes, I’d think we’re walking right into one.”

  “Roger that. Take your team further south and sweep back. I want you to have a clear line to retreat away from the city itself. The cover will help us close in on the fortress under fire.”

  “Affirmative, Actual.” Donovan switched channels to the Battalion frequency. “You heard the General. We’ll keep moving south and come in from the rear. Remember, our mission is to harass the enemy as much as possible. Mech One, out.”

  Donovan rotated the mech’s torso toward Mexico City on his right. A waterfall of memories erupted from the sight of it, even though he had only been gone a few weeks. The missile silo, his mother, Matteo, and Diaz. General Rodriguez. The missions into the city to raise the transmission needle and connect with their brethren in space. His mind even wandered to his experience beneath the city, swimming through the sewers and winding up inside the fortress they were preparing to attack. Killing Tuhrik. Meeting Ehri. It all seemed so distant, and so close at the same time.

  Humankind had been waiting fifty years for this moment.

  Would they win the day?

  “Mech One, this is Bertha Actual, I’ve got visual at three o’clock.”

  The CO of the second of the two infantry companies was steady as he reported the position. Lieutenant Colonel Dickerson, if Donovan remembered correctly. There had been so little time; it had been difficult to learn everyone’s name.

  “Roger, Bertha Actual,” Donovan replied, checking his sensors. Whatever the man had seen, it was sitting beyond his range. He switched to the mech’s networked communication system, opening a channel to the rest of the armors. “Mech Two, this is Mech One. Make a right turn and head toward the visual, see if you can get them on the HUD.”

  “Roger, Mech One,” Ehri said, her mech turning immediately and heading toward the city.

  Donovan tracked it on his HUD, watching the spot move away from their group. He put his eyes on the edge of the city, to the broken buildings that spotted the outskirts, and then to the more densely packed destruction beyond. He still wasn’t seeing-

  His mind switched gears when he caught sight of the movement and a flash of sunlight vanishing against the dark armor of a Dread mech.

  “Mech Two, hold position,” he said, bringing Ehri to a stop. “Actual, we have positive ID on the enemy. At least one mechanized armor, but I’m willing to bet there are more.”

  “Copy that, Delta. See if you can pull them out.”

  “Affirmative.” Donovan switched systems again. “Able, Bertha, spread out and find cover. Bertha One Two, get Bravo Bravo online and in position.”

  “Roger, Delta Actual,” the units replied.

  Donovan steered his mech to the right, approaching Ehri. The Dread mech hadn’t moved or revealed itself. It was stationary, shrouded by the remains of the skyscraper it was resting next to.

  “They aren’t attacking,” Donovan said, opening a direct channel to Ehri’s mech.

  “No.”

  “Even though we’re getting into a better position?”

  “The Domo’dahm has decided to allow us to attack first. It is not required of a challenge, but he is acting confident.”

  “Should he be?”

  “The domo’shah in orbit carried close to fifty mechanized armors and nearly fifteen thousand clone soldiers. I imagine they have left most of the armors behind, and a large contingent of the infantry. There is little reason to think that he is concerned about our assault. Clearly, his focus is on General St. Martin.”

  Donovan had known they were going to be outnumbered. It wasn’t even the first time Ehri had outlined what they were up against. How the hell were they supposed to win, again?

  He forced the sudden wave of panic down. He wondered how many of the other rebels out there were feeling the same way? It didn’t help to think about what they were up against, or how impossible it seemed. If they didn’t fight today, they were going to die tomorrow anyway. At least they were giving themselves a chance.

  “Delta Actual, this is Bertha One Two. Bravo Bravo is online and in position.”

  “Roger, Bertha One Two,” Donovan replied. “Prepare to fire on my mark.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “They will attack as soon as we fire, Colonel,” Ehri said.

  Donovan stared at the outline of the city in front of him. He turned the mech slightly, looking north to the remainder of the rebel army. They were still a few klicks behind, hanging back while Delta Battalion did its job.

  “Actual, this is Delta,” Donovan said. “We are in position to commence the attack. Bravo Bravo is prepared to fire. Waiting on your mark, sir.”

  “Roger, Delta,” General Parker replied. “Hold tight.”

  There was a long pause. Donovan imagined the General was passing orders to the other battalions, getting them into position to make their runs. They didn’t expect everyone to get through. They didn’t need to all get in. The inside of the domo’shah would be lightly defended, or at least they hoped it would.

  “Delta, this is Actual. All battalions are in position. Bertha One Two, fire on my mark.”

  Donovan’s heart began to thump at the words. He quickly checked his renovated mech’s weapons systems, confirming a full payload of projectile ammunition and a ready state on the plasma cannons.

  “Delta Actual, this is Bertha One Two. If you could, please take two steps to the left.”

  Donovan swallowed, surprised by the statement. This was no time to lose it. “Roger, Bertha One Two,” he replied, moving his mech to the side.

  “Bertha One Two,” General Parker’s voice said. “Fire.”

  49

  The beam from Big Bertha passed right beside Donovan, so close that the mech began bleating warnings into his ears. He took another involuntary step to the side, squinting his eyes in reaction to the brightness of the bolt as it streaked past.

  Less than two seconds later, it speared its target, the dark shape of the mech Donovan had spotted vanishing against the point of light, vaporized by the power of the augmented weapon. The bolt continued through, into the city, blasting into a building and bringing the remains of it down into a heavier pile before fading away.

  “So it begins,” Donovan said to himself before connecting with the squad channel. “All units, move in.” He shifted to the human radio mounted in front of him. “Able, Bravo, hold steady, we’ll try to bring them to you. Prepare Bravo Bravo for another volley.”

  “Roger,” the company COs replied.

  The six mechs moved in toward the city limits, in the direction the plasma bolt had traveled. It would take another minute or two for the charge to rebuild in the cannon and allow it to fire with such devastating force again. They were on their own in the meantime.

  Donovan had only made it a dozen steps before the plasma bolts began to pour from the city. They were well-aimed blasts that slammed into the mechs, catching them square and sending more warnings into his ears. One bolt wouldn’t be nearly enough to drop the armor, but it was a bad omen of things to come. He slipped his armor to the side, tracking the source of the attack to locate the attackers. They were still hidden from his sensors, and he knew they shouldn’t be.

  It seemed the Domo’dahm hadn’t just been sitting back and waiting.

  “Actual, this is Delta. I’m not sure how, but it looks like the enemy is invisible to our sensors. Repeat, we’re blind beyond line of sight.”

  The pause before General Parker’s response was long enough Donovan knew he was trying to work out a new approach on the fly. Without sensor readings, they had no idea what their main force was stepping into.

  “Roger, Delta.” Another pause. “It’s too late to turn back now. Get us a path if you can.”

  “Roger,” Donovan said, shifting his mech as a plasma bolt streaked past. He checked the location in the HUD and fired back, quieting the enemy attack for a moment. He shifted to the mech comm. “Okay people, we’re going in. Head for the front lines, we’ll try to engage and start pulling them south. Bertha One Two, hold position. Bertha One Three, Bertha One Four, stay with Bertha One Two and provide fire support. Mech Six, hang back with Bertha One Two, we can’t afford to let them hit Bravo Bravo.”

  He looked up as the units affirmed his instructions. Luckily, the air was still clear of gi’shah. A few good strafing runs would whittle their numbers down in a hurry, but it seemed the Domo’dahm was holding those resources in wait for the space force.

  Donovan brought his mech ahead at full charge, running across the open space toward the cover of the outlying buildings. Of course, Ehri was tracking ahead of him, while Colonel Knight was hanging close to his side. Orli was in Mech Six, and she backed away toward Big Bertha while the others advanced.