The Friendly Ambassador: The Beginning of the End

  Part of him wanted to defend his actions, but the reality side of him was having none of it.

  They were going to torture her!

  Were they? Were they really? How do you know? You just ran, on the spur of the moment. At least she was safe in the truck. What are you going to do with her now?

  He had no mental reply. He could almost hear Kelandra’s voice. “You numb head!”

  Tipi slumped. “I’ve made a mess of it again,” he muttered to himself.

  There was a distant thump. Tipi raised his head, stretching his neck and looking around while still hanging on to Phoebe. Again there was nothing to see. All was dark and still, only the breeze ruffling the leaves in the trees nearby.

  Tipi relaxed again. He lay Phoebe down gently on the grass next to him. She murmured slightly but remained unconscious. He sat next to her with his knees drawn up and just watched her sleeping. She was totally different to him, and yet, she fascinated him completely. She had such a long and slender body, with even longer legs, making her totally the wrong shape, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. And he didn’t really know why. He had never felt this way with a girl. Certainly he had never ran off with one or held one so closely in his arms. He liked Kelandra that was true, and at least more understandable. But she was always abrupt and angry with him. He couldn’t imagine himself running off with her in his arms.

  He looked down at Phoebe again. If Kelandra had been hurt, if she had been in the same position, maybe he would have acted the same. Maybe it was just circumstance, or maybe it was just easy to take the Klysanthian because she was hurt, because he had found her and felt responsible for her. For a moment he imagined Kelandra in her place, laying peacefully in the grass, sleeping, her legs and arms stretched out.

  Yes, he liked that image, it brought on other thoughts, thoughts that led to other thoughts, thoughts that the real Kelandra would have smacked him for. It didn’t matter. It was all in his head, just a dream. Tipi continued to dream, following the story he had invented in his mind. It was a nice dream, a harmless dream.

  Nothing moved, everything was quiet and peaceful, and Tipi was so tired, wrapped up in his own dreams, that his eyes slowly drooped and then closed.

  Time passed.

  There was a flash. Tipi didn’t really see it, but his eyes opened in time to see a second one. More flashes followed. Tipi glanced at Phoebe and was almost surprised to see her there instead of Kelandra, so vivid were his dreams. He smiled at the memory of them. It was a wistful smile, one tinged with slight sadness. He looked again at Phoebe. She was still sleeping peacefully, so he crawled forward, staring out of the bushes that surrounded their hiding place. The flashes seemed to be coming from the direction of the road, but the undulating land blocked any sight of it. They grew more and more frequent, like distant, silent lightening. And then they stopped.

  Tipi watched for a while and then went back to Phoebe, settling down beside her again.

  Now he was even more confused. What had been happening at the road? Was it anything to do with Kelandra and the others? He had assumed that they would be well on their way to Hilbrok by now, that even if they had tried to look for them they must have given up and left. The flashes on the road filled him with doubt. He wanted to know what had happened, he wanted to know that Kelandra was still safe in the truck on her way to Hilbrok. Should he go back to have a look?

  One thought led to another, until Tipi could only contemplate on what a fool he was. He looked at Phoebe sleeping next to him. He had ran away with her to try and protect her, and now he was worried to death about Kelandra, a girl who never said anything to him that wasn’t some kind of veiled insult. Why could he never get anything right? He smacked the ground in his annoyance, and then someone stuck a rifle in his ear.

  “Move and your brains spill I will!” a high-pitched little girl’s voice hissed at him.

  Tipi froze, his eyes wide.

  Philippis kept her rifle pressed in his ear as she moved around him. She reached out to Phoebe, laying her hand on her throat, feeling for a pulse.

  “If dead she is quickly you will be too!”

  “She’s just sleeping!” Tipi burst out. “I didn’t mean to hurt her when I found her but she was struggling and everything and I ran with her to the truck and then on the truck I thought they might torture her and so I ran away with her again and now I don’t know what to do and I’m lost and—”

  “Quiet, be you! The Keruh on our heads do you wish to bring?”

  Tipi shut up, which was fortunate really, because his lungs were empty. He kept his eyes on Philippis, watching her touch Phoebe, feeling her wounds.

  Philippis knew Phoebe was alive as soon as she touched her. She was warm but not hot, and her pulse was even. Further investigation uncovered the bandages and a slightly heavier touch caused Phoebe to moan weakly.

  The slight moan caused Tipi to protest, despite the rifle in his ear. “Careful! You’ll hurt her!”

  Philippis looked at him intently. Then she sat on the ground next to Phoebe and lowered her rifle.

  “In love be you?” she asked him in her tiny and delicate voice.

  Tipi grew red. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You not be dangerous, you be stupid. But stupid for reason. Hold Phoebe too close and too long you have. Now in love with Phoebe you are. Deny it you may, but truth it is.”

  Tipi stared at her. She was only the second Klysanthian he had ever seen up close for real in his whole life, and yet both of them were amazingly similar. Their size and shape were the same, and even their tiny and exquisite features were the same. But the newcomer had silver hair that was quite short and feathery, her skin was also a lot lighter in complexion, and her eyes were a soft blue that sparkled in the starlight.

  It would be easy to fall in love with one of them.

  Was she right? Was he in love? Was that why he kept acting stupid, like she said? Was that why he felt so confused? Was it also why he felt so content whenever he was holding her close? But why then did he dream of Kelandra in her place? He still didn’t quite understand it all, but one thing he had picked up.

  “Phoebe? Is that her name?”

  “Yes. Phoebe. And Philippis am I. You are?”

  “Tipi.”

  “You and I be friends can we if stupid again you are not. Make this pledge can you?”

  “I won’t act stupid, I promise. But I didn’t mean to hurt her, you know. I was just too rough with her and—”

  He was off again but Philippis stopped him with a finger to her lips.

  “Shush! Not your fault Phoebe’s wounds are. Hurt in crash of ship first she was, unable to walk properly after. We lost her in escape. In truth help her you did. Be not sorry or sad.”

  Philippis had a funny backward way of speaking Edenite, but it was all clear to Tipi. Phoebe had been hurt before he had found her. It was a sudden weight off his mind, like a lifting of a cloud. He had hurt her, but not as badly as he had thought, and so her injuries weren’t down to him entirely. But that didn’t help the situation they were in now. That thought led to a question he should have asked first.

  “Where have you come from?”

  Philippis pointed back at the road. “Find ground vehicle, we did. Killed the Keruh who had captured it. But more came as I left to find Phoebe.”

  Tipi began to get to his feet, sudden fear in his mind. “They were captured? We have to help them!”

  Philippis grabbed him and pulled him back, but it was her words that stopped him more than her strength.

  “More of my sisters are there with them. Together they are and our help be not needed. After you I was sent for Phoebe to rescue. Now separated we must remain, our paths diverged.”

  Tipi looked at her, he was all confused. “We can’t go back to the others?”

  Philippis shook her head. “All over with now battle will be. Either escape they all have or dead they all be. Make no differe
nce our presence would. Together now you and I are with Phoebe. To the Gate of Heaven we must walk. Show you I will, but carry Phoebe you must.”

  Tipi looked at her in a puzzled way. “Gate of Heaven?”

  “Of the Klysanthian Second Fleet a ship it is. On the ground not far from us she sits to the north. Escape with us you may if reach her we are able.”

  Tipi suddenly thought about his mother and father, and about Breda. “But I can’t escape! I’ve got my mum and dad and my sister to find! They’re probably still in the city, I can’t leave without them!”

  Philippis tipped her head over on one side. She thought quickly. Carrying Phoebe to the Gate of Heaven in this gravity would be beyond her. She needed the help of this Edenite. He was obviously young but mature enough to be susceptible to the pheromones Phoebe was exuding so freely in her wounded state. He may also have had another female of his own race with whom he was involved, and that may have added to his confusion. She could force him at gunpoint if she had to, but she was sure Phoebe’s firepower would be enough. He just needed a helping hand.

  “Decide later you can to stay or go. First get to safety of ship then think of family. Help we can give you. Best solution this is. Yes?”

  Tipi took longer to think. What should he do? Apart from the quiet time in the truck, he hadn’t thought about his parents and sister much since it all happened. They could be dead. The thought made him feel cold, cold and sick. It was a horrible thought, but one he might have to face. Bibi was dead, that he was sure of, as were a lot of his friends and teachers from the College of Learning. Maybe Kelandra and all the others in the truck were dead too. He hoped not, especially Kelandra, but he had to fear the worse while hoping for the best. It was funny, he had hardly known Kelandra for long but he found himself thinking more about her than he did about Bibi. It all brought tears to his eyes that he hastily wiped away.

  “Alright, I’ll go with you. But when we get there I’ll decide what I want to do. Okay?”

  She nodded and smiled encouragingly. “Okay.”

  Horns blew and lights flashed. The bus swerved to avoid the next passing truck and everyone was shaken around inside. It was a process that was repeated again and again as truck after truck hurtled by and Ganatus fought to keep the bus on the road.

  Gusta hung on to one of the seats as she was rocked about. She stared anxiously at every truck that raced by. Sometimes she could see faces at the back of the trucks, brief images of frightened people staring out.

  People. Survivors.

  Was Breda among them? Was Tipi in one of those trucks, alone and scared?

  Gusta was on the brink of madness. What should she do? What could she do? Beside her, pressed to the windows as she was, were Didi and Kiki. Both shared the same worried expressions of utter helplessness.

  The bus lurched as another truck roared by, horns blaring. The Corporal sat at the front, his map spread out on one of the seats beside him. Everyone was being knocked around, and he held on with one hand as he traced a route on the map.

  “Ganatus! Can’t this heap of bolts go any faster?”

  Ganatus was leaning forward over the wheel. “I’m going as fast as I can, Corp! These buses weren’t made for speed!”

  “If we don’t get off this bloody road soon we’re going to get knocked off! Take a left at the next intersection!”

  The road junction came up just as another truck roared up behind them. Ganatus ignored the horns and flashing lights and swerved across the road. The driver of the truck hit the brakes with a squeal of tyres. It was almost enough. The truck clipped the back end of the bus as it turned into the side street. There was a violent crash that shattered several windows and knocked Klemunus and Altus from their seats and showered Pedomoner in broken glass. The bus was knocked on to two wheels, hovered and then came back down again. Gusta, Didi and Kiki were all hurled to the floor. Ganatus fought at the wheel and the bus skidded to a halt.

  The truck came off worse.

  With much greater mass and inertia, the truck veered across the road and through a garden wall. It hit the house full on, embedding itself in the wall and bringing half the roof down.

  The Corporal climbed to his knees and looked out at the crashed truck.

  “Damn you, Ganatus! Couldn’t you have missed that frigging truck?”

  “He hit me, Corp!” Ganatus protested.

  Didi looked out at the truck as he helped Gusta back on to a seat. “There are people getting out,” he said.

  Gusta instantly looked up. She saw people climbing out of the back of the truck. Men and women. They were helping one another. There was a soldier among them. He ran to the road, waving his arms and stepping out. The trucks roared by, either ignoring him or sounding their horns to chase him out of the way. The last one sped passed so close that it caused him to jump back. He fell sprawling in the garden. Some of the people came to help him up. They were bandaged, their clothes torn and their faces gaunt. She could see them clearly in the lights of the passing trucks. The image brought tears to her eyes.

  “We can’t leave them.”

  The Corporal threw aside his map. “Great! Marvellous! Just what I need, more bloody civilians! Altus! See if you can get them on the bus! Take Eastomoner with you! Move it!”

  With sudden resolve, Kiki said, “I’ll go with you!”

  The three of them jumped out the door and ran across the road, dodging the constant stream of passing trucks. The soldier and the people instantly surrounded them.

  Gusta pressed herself to the window and watched them. There was a lot of shouting and arm waving, and then Kiki and Eastomoner climbed into the back of the truck with two of the people. They emerged with two stretchers. The others helped them carry the two stretchers out of the truck. As soon as the Corporal saw the stretchers he sighed.

  “Klemunus! Go and help them get those stretchers across the road!” As Klemunus jumped up, the Corporal quickly added, “And don’t get run over!”

  Didi suddenly got up, kissed Gusta and went after Klemunus. Gusta stared at him for a moment and then followed him.

  Outside the bus the road was filled with noise. Trucks roared by, horns blared, headlights flashed and people screamed as the first of them ran across the road. There were two of them, huddled together, a man and a woman, their terrified expressions picked out by the lights of the next truck that roared toward them. They only just made it, the woman screaming madly. On the far side of the road Altus held the others back until the next truck roared by, and on this side of the road Didi and Klemunus grabbed the first two to get across. The terrified survivors fell gratefully into their arms, and Didi tried to usher them toward the bus, but they didn’t want to let go of him or Klemunus. Gusta quickly ran forward. She spoke calmly to the frightened people, taking them gently by the hand and leading them back to the bus where the Corporal pulled them onboard.

  The people looked manic, terrified. They hugged Gusta as she led them to the bus, showering her in thanks. They were worn out, beaten, with no fight left in them. Gusta cried as they cried.

  One by one, in twos and threes, they all made the mad dash.

  Next came the stretchers. Klemunus ran across the road to help. And with Altus, Kiki, Eastomoner and the other soldier, they carried the first stretcher across the road in a sudden rush. Didi and Gusta waited by the first stretcher while they ran back to get the other one. Then some of the people Gusta had taken to the bus suddenly reappeared by her side, the courage back in their eyes. Gusta protested, but they carried the stretcher to the bus as the second stretcher made the journey across the road.

  They all got across, with only a discarded bag the victim of the passing trucks.

  The Corporal leaned out of the bus and shouted at Eastomoner and the others as they made their way toward him with the last stretcher.

  “Come on! Get that stretcher aboard! We’re leaving!”

  When Gusta climbed back on the bus she found it su
ddenly full. All the seats were filled with heavily breathing people who all lay slumped and collapsed. Only the soldier showed any fire. He grabbed Ganatus and tried to pull him from his driving seat.

  “You could have bloody killed us all!”

  The Corporal quickly pushed him aside.

  “I’m in charge here! Now shut up and sit down!”

  The soldier glanced at his stripe and then stood face to face with the Corporal. “In charge of what?” he snarled.

  The Corporal stuck his finger in the soldier’s face. “You! Disobey me once, and I’ll blow your frigging head off and dump you off this bus! And no one here will stop me! Now sit down and keep your gob shut until you’ve got something sensible to say!”

  The other soldiers gathered around and their angry stares caused the new boy to sit down. But he didn’t shut up.

  “You killed my driver.”

  It wasn’t said in anger, it was just stated, a simple fact. It caused the anger in the faces of the soldiers to quickly fade. One by one they went to sit down, and Klemunus put his hand on the newcomer’s shoulder before he also found a seat.

  Ganatus looked in his mirror. “Sorry, mate,” he said sadly.

  The soldier just lowered his head. He began to rub at his eyes.

  As usual, it was left to the Corporal to break the mood.

  “Ganatus! Get this bus moving!”

  “Yes, Corp!”

  With a whine the bus lurched forward. The Corporal went back to his map, directing Ganatus, and they quickly left the rush of passing trucks on the road behind them. The noise and the lights faded and they were soon deep in a quiet and deserted suburb. All around were dark houses, some of which had been looted, their doors left wide open. Nobody said anything about it; they were all too tired to speak, too tired or too sad.

  Gusta was sat next to Didi, squeezed into a seat with Altus. Didi hugged her and smiled at her encouragingly, but there was no joy in her. She looked around at all the new faces, at the bandages and torn clothes. The people were a mess, the first people she had seen up close who had lived through the worst of it. Most of them were covered in dirt and dried blood. And the two figures on the stretchers at the back of the bus looked to be almost comatose. One had a drip attached, the bottle being held by a young girl sat on the floor next to him.

  It was only now that she realised how lucky she had been. She must have looked perfect next to them. She thought she was suffering, worrying about Breda and Tipi, but they must have endured much worse. They probably knew and accepted the truth she denied. They probably knew that their loved ones were dead. Some of them may have actually seen them die, struck down while an arm lengths away.

  Gusta remembered the family in the burned out car. She remembered how tragic a scene it was, how sad it had made her feel. Now she realised that she was wrong, now she realised how she envied them. They had died all at once, all together.

  General Orbanta looked up as his door burst open. Air Marshal Joventa stood in the doorway. He held the door open with one hand while he clutched a sheaf of papers in his other hand. His face was a picture of excitement.

  “Something’s happening in Jutlam City! You better come and take a look!”

  The expression, and, more importantly, the upbeat tone of Joventa’s voice, spurred General Orbanta to his feet. In a moment he had followed the Air Marshal outside and was staring down at the relief map in the middle of the Operations Room. All around the map Officers and their aides jostled for places and pointed at the map while others nearby came and went with messages. At first glance all was as it always was, but where before there had been an air of gloom about the men and women who filled the room, now there was an excited urgency about them. The reason was clear: the map had changed.

  The black circle around Elengrad was bigger than ever, and the secondary circles around Kalahar and Nemen were now joined. The black area also extended along the main highway back to Jutlam City. None of this was new to General Orbanta. But at Jutlam City itself there was a new change. In the heart of the sea of black there was now a yellow circle.

  Orbanta leaned over the rail that surrounded the relief map. “It’s centred on the portal.”

  Joventa nodded. “It must be the Tun-Sho-Lok Alliance! They must have managed to open the portal and land a force there! It has to be! The reports we’re getting suggest that the fighting is fierce, but that the Keruh are being pushed back!”

  Orbanta looked quickly at the Air Marshal. “Do you realise what you’re saying, Addi?”

  Joventa looked even more excited. “Yes! It’s a relief force! And if they can gain a foothold, and we can support them, we could still turn this war around!”

  “Listen to yourself for just a moment, Addi!” Orbanta said in irritation. “This war has been going on for nearly a year. And in all that time the only consistent fact we have been able to learn about it is that the Keruh are virtually invincible on the ground. No one has ever been able to resist them. Even Klysanthia fell to them. That was why the Ruling Council finally gave in to their demands for a treaty. So what force can the Tun-Sho-Lok suddenly have now that can oppose and defeat the Keruh on the ground?”

  Nothing was going to break Joventa’s enthusiasm. “I can’t explain it, General! But it’s there for all to see!” He held up the papers in his hand. “And the reports we keep getting prove it! The Keruh around Welcome Square are falling back, their forces at Kalahar and Nemen are returning along the highway en-masse, and we have had sightings of ships taking off from both landing fields! They’re also heading for the capital, and that can mean only one thing! The Keruh at Jutlam City have called for air support! And when have you ever heard of Keruh forces on the ground needing air support?”

  Orbanta turned and stared at the yellow circle. It was ludicrous, impossible, but it was there for all to see. A yellow circle amid the black. To be there, the Keruh must have been forced back, there was no other explanation.

  “Where are our surviving ships?”

  Joventa waved at someone on the other side of the room. Instantly the yellow lights representing the positions of the ships on the map brightened noticeably. Joventa pointed at them. “We have seven in the air over Jutlam City and another two have just left Delmatra! Three more are otherwise engaged, as you know! The Keruh have launched seventeen ships, ten from Kalahar and seven from Nemen, and they’re all about eighty minutes away!”

  Seventeen black lights lit up at the landing fields and Orbanta nodded as he studied the positions of all the ships.

  “Have all our ships move to intercept the ten coming from Kalahar. And advise the C-in-C at Delmatra to put all available aircraft in the air over the highway to Nemen. I want every one of those captured vessels coming from Nemen brought down, even if our planes have to ram them. Make that clear. If the Tun-Sho-Lok do have a force that can oppose the Keruh, we have to give them every possible chance.”

  “What about Limeno? Should I tell him to delay the deployment of the nuclear weapons?”

  “No. Tell him to proceed to the first target as planned. By the time he reaches his second target at the highway we should know more.”

  Joventa sprang away from him almost as soon as Orbanta had finished speaking. In a second he was lost in the crowd, shouting instructions to men and women who rushed instantly to the Communications Room.

  Alone and motionless among the rush and bustle all around him, Orbanta leaned on the rail and stared at the yellow circle. His mind was filled with questions for which he had no answers. And the most important question was also the most simple.

  Who could they be, this irresistible force? Klysanthians? No, they had already lost their own world, if they had such a force they would have used it to save themselves. The same logic eliminated the Tun-Sho-Lok. Their physique and way of life totally opposed such an idea, and they always made it clear that they needed the help of others to fight this war. That left only the Atlantians. Reports said they f
ought well, and they had won several skirmishes with the Keruh in space it was true. But could they fight well enough to defeat the Keruh on the ground? But that only led to another question. Why had there been no small victories or even a hint of a success until now? If the Tun-Sho-Lok Alliance possessed such a force, there had to have been a sign of their use elsewhere. Unless...

  Orbanta closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He lowered his head. The answer had come so easily it was a possibility he had to consider. But could the reports of the battles on Klysanthia and other worlds that had fallen to the Keruh have been that distorted? Could this force have been present even then, but maybe in smaller numbers? Could their presence have been withheld, by the Keruh to limit any unfavourable propaganda, and by the Tun-Sho-Lok to protect their secret weapon until it was ready to be unleashed in earnest? Orbanta could believe the former easily, it was the consistency and apparent ease of the Keruh victories that finally swayed the Ruling Council. Now he began to wonder just how easily those victories had been gained. But it didn’t make sense from the Tun-Sho-Lok point of view. Why hide their successes, however minor? Were they that vulnerable? It was said that Atlantis was even less technologically advanced than Eden, that most of their world lived in barbarism. Maybe they were vulnerable. So could it be the Atlantians, known victors in minor space battles with the Keruh, who were now being landed in force for the first time at Welcome Square? For some reason, Orbanta believed that it wasn’t. But he had no other alternative. In the end, did it really matter? They were here, whoever they were, and that was all they needed to know.

  A final thought tugged at his mind. Could Eden be saved at the last moment by an unknown force sent by the same aliens they had themselves denied help to when it was asked of them? It would be an ironic twist, one not lost on the very genial Tun-Sho-Lok Ambassador, if he still lived.

  Orbanta continued to stare at the yellow circle. He wished he could see what was going on down there. He wished he could see exactly who it was that the Keruh feared enough to cause them to call for air support. And if they feared them that much, what kind of saviour could they be?

  Amid the yellow circle, the battle for Jutlam City went on from street to street and from building to building, the ferocity and magnitude of the killing going on unabated. The Keruh maintained a slow and obstinate retreat, but it was still a retreat none-the-less. The Androktones who pursued them with relentless purpose were now supported by hundreds of the large silver dragon-like creatures. Many of them were now almost as big as the Warriors they faced. Some were even larger. And above, countless numbers of silver shapes darted back and forth, firing down at the beleaguered Warriors of the Keruh.

  Fire, smoke, blood and the smell of death filled the once beautiful boulevards and pavements. Each square became a frenzied killing ground as the lack of cover caused the tempo of the battle to increase. There would be a sudden rush across the open ground, bodies exploding and tumbling into fountains and flower beds, trees and statues blown to fragments. The death toll on both sides would double and treble, and then the battle would reach the far side and slow again as each force filtered down each street and moved on. All that was left behind were the mutilated bodies of the fallen, victor and vanquished, all together now, crushed under the feet of the pursuing Androktones.

  The Keruh never broke ranks and ran, they maintained a slow and controlled withdrawal, hacking, shooting, and dying. They stood side by side, keeping their larger left sides toward their foe, backing away slowly, those that fell instantly replaced by another as they sought to keep the line intact. The Androktones who advanced methodically and evenly on all fronts equally matched that composure. Those at the front fought toe to toe with the Warriors, slicing, advancing, and falling. Again, others eager for the battle replaced those that fell, and both sides killed and died in droves, never giving up. But it was the silver dragons that were turning the tide, them and their smaller flying sisters.

  Occasionally the Keruh would make a stand in one place, at a street corner where a building had collapsed, the rubble piled high, or by a burned out vehicle that blocked the street. Now the fighting would favour them as they fired back at their pursuers and hacked down the Androktones trying to move around the makeshift barricade. For a brief few moments there would be a more distant exchange of fire, but then the silver shapes would gather over them, firing down at them, and the dragon creatures would trot forward. They ignored the barrage of laser fire that met them, impervious and indestructible. First one and then another would leap at a Warrior, bringing him down in its jaws. As other Warriors struck at them with their axes, the dragons would gulp down their struggling victims, crunching and swallowing them almost whole. And while they did so, they continued to fire the two turrets that stretched out of either side of their heads, the nearest Warriors bursting apart in the impacts. And once the Warriors in their jaws had been swallowed, the creatures swelled in size proportionally. They instantly snapped at other Warriors, big enough now to bite them cleanly in half, the black blood spilling over their silver skin. The brief stand would soon be broken, and the fighting would move on.

  The pattern was repeated over and over, bloody battles in the buildings until fire and smoke engulfed them, sudden fire fights in the open squares, and violent, monstrous deaths at any brief stand.

  The silver dragons that ran at the vanguard of the pursuing Androktones devoured all in their path. And with each Warrior they swallowed, their bulk increased. To stand and fight brought only a glorious death that increased the size of their enemy. But many of the Keruh still chose this end if only to allow their brothers to escape. And now it was a need to escape.

  As on other worlds where the Androktones had faced the Keruh, the battle had begun with tremendous loss, but had slowly turned. The Keruh knew that if the Androktones were allowed to establish themselves, the outcome was fixed. It was what they feared most, and with good reason. The Androktones ability to split their minds and give life and mobility to the silver weapons they possessed was an overwhelming advantage. While the battle raged at distance, with blood and fire engulfing all, the true halves of the silver creatures remained safe back at the portal building, kneeling serenely and calmly inside. Unless they were killed, the silver creatures would never die. And so long as the creatures continued to eat, they would grow larger and larger.

  Soon they would become big enough to threaten the entire Host.

  The only logical solution was to avoid being eaten, to break ranks and flee. But the Keruh refused to do this. It was against their nature, but there was also another reason. The Warriors who fought in the streets of Jutlam City knew that their end was set. For them there would be no glorious victory, only bloody and noble sacrifice. But there was purpose in their loss. With every minute that passed, the Hosts of the Telen’Gal, Belol’Fan and Orly’Ank came closer on their long march from Kalahar and Nemen. And in the air, the captured ships of the Edenites converged on Jutlam City.

  Although the battle may have appeared to be no more than a bloody retreat, the Second of the Mysan’Taf orchestrated the withdrawal according to a controlled and predetermined plan. It was now impossible to halt the advance of the Androktones, but it was possible to slow it down. By use of the underground tunnels and entrances of the rapid transit system, the Second of the Mysan’Taf moved Warriors from street to street and from one battle scene to another. He constantly reinforced the Warriors on weaker fronts, keeping many in the tunnels for just this purpose. In this way he contained the Androktones on all fronts, falling back slowly, and preventing a break out that would see his Warriors overwhelmed. But he also had another plan, one that would only see fruition when the promised air support arrived. His only fear was that the Warriors in the tunnels would be discovered before then. It was a fear that was soon realised.

  There were many subway entrances to the underground rapid transit system in the city, and it wasn’t long before the Androktones reached one of them. The Warriors who
faced them fought vainly to delay them, but relentlessly and remorselessly the Androktones moved closer and closer, until finally they reached the entrance. Here the battle raged violently but briefly, the last of the retreating Keruh firing at the entrance as they withdrew, collapsing the roof over the stairs and bringing down part of the pavement.

  The battle moved on, the entrance ignored by the Androktones that rushed by in pursuit of the Warriors who were now farther down the street. But then one of the Androktones who ran by suddenly stopped and hesitated. She stood by the entrance, breathing deeply, her silver blades shimmering in the flickering flames of nearby fires. For a moment she stared down at the darkness and silence, then she quickly looked around, her head turning quickly one way and then the other, her long brown hair flying.

  Several of the large silver creatures were in sight, most of them having already gone passed the subway entrance. With a barked command, the Androktone by the entrance called to them, and when they turned, she waved them back. The first silver dragon bounded toward her. It paused by the collapsed entrance. It was bigger than her and it pounced on the rubble and fallen masonry, tearing at it with its claws. A blast from the two turrets on its head saw the last of the barrier blown away, and the creature squeezed itself through the gap that was formed and quickly disappeared. Three more creatures that had answered the call squeezed through the gap after it. As soon as they were gone, the Androktone moved on, searching for other Warriors, the subway entrance quickly forgotten.

  The wait on the road was a sad one, long and sad, with no respite. Depression set in heavily on those that still lived in the back of the truck. But time caused the crying to slowly subside until only the sounds of breathing filled the air. And all the while the surrounding Keruh Warriors waited, immobile like statues.

  Breda lay clamped in an embrace with Clyemne. They had stayed that way from the beginning, hardly moving. But now a light caught Breda’s tear-stained eye and she looked up.

  “It’s a comet.”

  Clyemne raised her head and also looked. There was a large ball of fire descending slowly in the distance.

  “That isn’t a comet,” she replied softly. “That’s a message from the gods.”

  Breda looked at her. “A message?”

  Clyemne looked up at the star filled sky. “The battle I told you of is over, won and lost. Either the Keruh wait to enter, or my sisters have triumphed.” There was a distant, tiny flash. She let go of Breda with one hand and pointed up at it. “Look for the flashes. They mark the vanquished.”

  Breda stared up at the sky. There was just blackness and stars. But then she saw a flash, a tiny pinprick that glowed and grew into a streak of silver. It was only then, when she knew what to look for, that she noticed the others. She looked again at the ball of fire, glowing fragments trailing from it.

  “You mean that’s a ship?”

  Clyemne nodded. “A ship destroyed in battle, the wreck a victim of your Defence Net. Now it falls to ground. It tells us many things.”

  The ball of fire descended lower and lower, until it finally reached the ground. There was a brief flash. After a pause there was a roll of distant thunder.

  Breda sighed. “Those poor people.”

  Anaxilea laughed. It was hollow and without humour. She turned toward one of the silently waiting Warriors.

  “Poor people, she says, but were they yours or mine?”

  “They could be Atlantian,” the Seventy-Ninth hissed in reply.

  “Could they?” Anaxilea countered, giving nothing away. “Or do we have another ally you know nothing of?”

  “You tease me with possibilities. There are no other allies. And only your ships were in orbit.”

  “As were yours.”

  “Only if the Atlantians have been defeated.”

  “There are no Atlantians except in your dreams.”

  “Then they are your ships that fall from the sky.”

  “Then your ships are vanquished, leaving the heavens to us.”

  “Our ships are not vanquished. It is you that is defeated. We control the skies above Eden.”

  “Then it is your ships that fall in fire.”

  “It is merely the wrecks of your own ships that fall.”

  “Then if we are defeated and you are victorious why is the Defence Net still closed?”

  This time the Seventy-Ninth had no reply.

  Anaxilea laughed again. This time it was a gentle, tinkling laugh. And although she smiled in triumph, her eyes held only anger.

  The Seventy-Ninth moved closer to the side of the truck. “You will give up the answers we seek when you face the Dominant.”

  The smile faded from her lips. “I’ll die first,” she said more sternly. “And that’s the only true answer you will get from me or my sisters.”

  “We shall see soon enough. The time of waiting is over.”

  The Seventy-Ninth stepped back. The other Warriors also backed away. There was another rumble, but this time it was much closer. The truck moved.

  Anaxilea and the other Klysanthians remained impassive, but Breda and the Edenite survivors all looked around in surprise.

  Clyemne hugged Breda tightly with one hand, using her other hand to turn Breda’s puzzled and frightened face toward her.

  “Look only at me. Do not be scared.”

  Breda stared into Clyemne’s eyes. She was already scared. Scared because of the look in Clyemne’s eyes.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Those that come for us are here. They are not pleasant. Hold me close and look at me only.”

  The truck moved again. This time it was a much stronger movement. Breda hugged Clyemne even tighter, their heads together, and Rualda and Kelandra screamed and also hugged one another. Jeddra hung on to the side of the truck and Lupili looked around in total surprise. He almost got to his feet, but then he caught sight of Anaxilea, her face still impassive as she sat next to Cassiopea, and he sat back down again.

  With a grinding crunch and flying earth, the concrete of the road cracked and broke apart. The truck lurched and dipped to one side. Then the first of the Diggers burst through, it was right beside the truck, and Lupili stared into its soil-covered face as it rose out of the ground next to him. It was enormous, hideous, an armoured monster that was all huge jaws and great claws. Another burst out of the ground on the far side of the truck in a shower of broken concrete, and the truck righted itself, and with a sudden jerk it dropped even lower. A third Digger appeared, then another, and another. The truck dropped lower and lower each time, each sudden drop a stomach heaving jerk. All the women were screaming now, and Breda kept her eyes tightly closed.

  The lurching, jerking drops continued, each one bringing fresh screams. Soon the truck had dropped below the original level of the road and the waiting Warriors were standing above them. They were in the air while the truck was down in the dark. Lupili looked up. He could see the stars and the Warriors standing around the rim of the vast hole. They seemed to be looking down at them. And then, with a final lurch and shudder, the truck dropped into a large cavern that was open on one side. The cavern was joined to a large tunnel that stretched away in both directions. And along the tunnel hurried creatures born from the nightmares of children.

  Receivers, their bodies hugely distorted, their carapaces split into distant islands on the taut membrane that was stretched about their swollen bodies to bursting point, lumbered and swayed along the tunnel in a constant stream. They were like great heaving and bubbling bags of flesh on legs, and all around them hundreds of Gatherers pulled and pushed them along, scurrying about their enormous charges, heaving at the great folds of dragging flesh, some even clambering over them.

  The screams of the women turned to moans of terror and horror. Jeddra was sick and Kelandra fainted. She just slumped to the floor of the truck as if dead. And Rualda cried and bawled like a baby. And like a baby she wet herself, her fear and despair was so gre
at. Even Lupili had no strength to look without reaction. He, too, was sick.

  Only the Klysanthians could stand the sight of the heaving mass of quivering flesh that was each Receiver as it lumbered and swayed passed the truck. And they could only stand it because the sight was not new to them. Each one of them had seen this column of death before, in the city of Realamabad, and in their own homelands. It was a sight that once seen was never forgotten.

  Wrapped in Clyemne’s arms, her head down and her eyes clamped tightly closed, Breda saw nothing. But she could smell them. It was the same smell that she remembered when the truck had crashed, a smell that was accompanied by that demanding voice. A voice that she could now hear again, a voice in Edenite that terrified her more than the smell and any possible vision, a deep, resonant, almost whistling voice. Only this time there were several voices, all begging and urging the same response.

  “BRING THEM TO ME!” the voices hissed in demanding bellows. They were like a chorus of voices, all singing the same urgent tune. “BRING THEM TO ME! BRING THEM TO MEE! I NEED THEM! I HUNGER FOR THEM! BRING THEM TO MEEE!”

  Breda began to cry, her body convulsing with each great sob. Clyemne held her tighter.

  “Ignore them, Breda! Don’t listen!”

  “I can’t!” Breda wailed. “They’re inside my head!”

  “The Receivers have powerful minds! Their need to consume and return their food to the Hive is their only purpose in life! It has made them telepathic, and it is their way of controlling the Gatherers around them! Ignore them! Concentrate! Think of something else! Think of something more pleasant!”

  “I can’t! I can’t!”

  “Then think of Kiki dead!” Clyemne said harshly. “Think of all your family dead! See their bodies in your mind, burned, broken! See them lying in the ruins of your city, forgotten, abandoned!”

  The image overcame Breda. She cried even more, and suddenly her greatest fears became a reality. They were all dead, it was probably true, and her grief overcame the voice in her mind, drowning it out in her own personal sorrow.

  But if in her head the voices had stopped, in others it hadn’t.

  One by one, the Receivers that lumbered by stopped and hesitated by the truck. Then one turned its tiny head and jaws toward them. It was only a short distance away from Rualda, and she suddenly stopped crying as she stared up at it with wide eyes.

  “COME TO ME! COME TO ME!” a voice now insisted. It was more powerful than the others, more urgent and demanding, and slowly it took over from all of them. “COME TO ME! CLIMB TO YOUR FEET, LITTLE ONE! COME TO ME!”

  Rualda got to her knees, her body shaking. She continued to stare at the Receiver that lingered by the side of the truck, the many Gatherers around it trying to push it on. It wouldn’t move.

  “YES, STEP FORWARD SMALL ONE! GIVE YOURSELF TO ME! HELP ME FEED THE HIVE! COME TO ME! COME TO MEEE!”

  Rualda got to her feet; she stumbled forward, closer to the Receiver. It leaned against the truck, crushing and splintering the side, its mouth gaping open expectantly. Then several Warriors landed on the truck, jumping down from above. One of them stepped between Rualda and the Receiver. There was a furious exchange of clicks and hisses, and then the Receiver turned away and heaved its bulk along the tunnel.

  Rualda fell to the floor of the truck; she just collapsed like a corpse. The Warrior that had saved her ignored her. He stepped over her and went to stand before Anaxilea. He looked down at her.

  “You would have done nothing to save the Edenite!” the Seventy-Ninth accused her. “You would have allowed her to be consumed!”

  “It would have been your promise that would have been broken,” Anaxilea finally replied with derision. “And not for the first time.”

  “I gave my word that none would be killed! I will keep that promise despite your inaction! You will gain no advantage over me, Matriarch of the House of Charity!”

  He used her title pointedly, and it was not lost on Anaxilea, who turned away. She remained impassive, sitting next to the worried Cassiopea, staring at the wall of the tunnel. Cassiopea tried to coax some response from her, but Anaxilea ignored her gentle touch.

  The Seventy-Ninth also turned away. He went to the side of the truck and began to shout orders to the Gatherers.

  Clyemne watched him jump down from the truck, the other Warriors following him. Then she turned back to Breda, resting her head on hers. The voices must have faded because Breda had stopped crying and her breathing was even. Clyemne held her tighter, kissing her gently on the head.

  The other Edenites had also become quiet. They all lay collapsed on the floor of the truck. The women were all now unconscious and only Lupili was awake, staring wildly at the grotesque forms in the tunnel.

  The Diggers that had brought the truck down from the surface moved aside, and the Gatherers surged around it, many of them moving underneath it. Soon the truck began to rock and move as it was carried backward into the main tunnel, taking its place in the long column of Receivers on their way back to the portal at Elengrad.

  With the truck out of the way, the Diggers moved forward again and began to seal the hole in the side of the tunnel, bringing down the rock and soil in a controlled cave-in. They quickly formed a new wall to the tunnel, piling up the rocks and filling the gaps with the soil. To improve the consistency of the soil, the Diggers vomited on it and mashed and kneaded it until they could sculpture a perfect patch in the tunnel wall. By the time they moved on, the cavern where the truck had been brought down from the surface was just a mere memory, all trace of it erased.

  The ES Alentin flew high in the stratosphere, two other Edenite ships on either side of her. On the bridge, Captain Limeno and his First Lieutenant both leaned on the radar screen as they stared intently at a tiny illuminated dot.

  “Are you sure it’s not an aircraft, Keltus?” Limeno asked.

  “Yes, Captain. It’s flying very low, but the signal is unmistakable. It’s definitely a ship, and it’s not one of ours.”

  “Have you checked with the Kouvila and Temunus?”

  Keltus nodded. “They’ve both confirmed the signal.”

  “What’s her course?”

  Keltus smiled wryly. “Generally south, but her route is a little erratic.” He moved away and grabbed a transparency from a nearby chart table and laid it over the screen. The transparency had the ship’s course plotted on it. It was a series of zigzag lines that Limeno recognised immediately.

  “She’s on a search pattern. It must be a Klysanthian ship, one of those that got in before the Net was closed. She’ll be looking for survivors from the other ships that came with her.”

  “If it is a Klysanthian ship, she must have been sitting down there for quite some time.”

  Limeno nodded thoughtfully. “She must have been laying low, making repairs and playing dead until nightfall.”

  “Interesting that she’s moving now, when an Alliance force has landed in Jutto.”

  “One ship won’t be enough to support them if the Keruh get passed our ships. And if she was part of their plans, why is she hanging about down there? No, I’ll wager she survived the bombardment of the landing fields by chance, and now she’s obviously preoccupied with her search.”

  “What do we do?”

  Limeno straightened up. “Nothing.”

  Keltus looked up at him. “But if she stays there she’ll be caught in the blast.”

  “That’s her problem. Anyway, she’ll be in good company. There are still a lot of civilians down there, survivors from Jutlam City and people from the towns on the outskirts, not to mention those from Elengrad itself. If we haven’t got time to think of them, I’m not going to lose any sleep over a few Klysanthians.”

  Limeno turned to leave, but Keltus called him back.

  “Captain? One other thing.”

  Limeno turned back to him. “Now what?” he said with a hint of irritation.

  Keltus was still
leaning on the radar screen. He grabbed another transparency and put it over the screen. There was another trail marked on it. It was a most peculiar vertical one.

  Limeno came back to the screen and looked down at the trail marked on it. He raised his eyebrows. “Is that a natural phenomenon?”

  “No. They’re too frequent and far too large.”

  Limeno switched his gaze to Keltus. “They?” he asked questioningly.

  “We’ve counted eight of them in the last quarter.” He pointed at the dot on the radar screen that was at the end of the trail. “That one must be the largest so far, the strength of the signal is way too high to be natural.”

  “Can you put it on the viewing screen?”

  Keltus nodded and flicked some switches. On the viewing screen in front of them an image of the rarefied upper atmosphere of Eden appeared. Here the clouds were thin and stratified, and above the sky was a deeper blue where stars twinkled. And right in the centre of the screen a blazing comet descended slowly, fragments breaking away from it and swirling in its trail.

  Limeno took a deep breath and sighed. “That, Keltus, is another ship. Or at least what’s left of one. They must be trying to get through the Defence Net.”

  Keltus finally got up from the radar screen, allowing the original operator to get back in his seat. He slapped the man on his shoulder before turning to his captain.

  “Do we take evasive action?”

  “No. Maintain course and speed, but keep an eye on those falling wrecks, we don’t want to hit one. And contact the other ships and advise them to do the same. What’s our ETA at Elengrad?”

  “Eleven minutes.”

  “Good. Let’s hope they aren’t expecting us.”