The tension among the rebel fighters buried in the mountainside was like that of a lyndar string tuned far too tightly. Twisting the peg any more would cause it to snap, which meant Sillix needed to help Gavin keep his forces quiet until Gownder and Cindra came through… if they came through. She had a feeling that whoever had alerted Qweelin Mink about the enclave’s location and the rescue operation had also given warning about possible diversionary tactics.
It’s Kull, she thought to herself. It has to be.
“Not a muscle,” she said again over comms, an order that Gavin relayed across their comms network. The first Cadre of stratusaires was hiking up the mountain, Skite blasters pulled into their shoulders, and scanning the terrain. Their combat boots crunched in the snow as new flakes fell, swirling in the wind. Sillix watched the left flank close within thirty feet of a hideout and guessed the rebel occupants were pissing themselves.
She opened the unit channel and, in the softest voice she could manage, said, “Hold… your… fire.”
The rebels did.
And the stratusaires marched past the hideout, oblivious to its presence.
But reinforcements were on the way. Sillix counted at least twenty more armored assault vehicles inbound, some of them equipped with altitude amplifiers that would allow them to hover up the mountainside. The more strats that amassed, the harder it was going to be to defend the Legacy’s retreat once fighting broke out. Which meant Sillix’s best option was to prolong engaging the enemy for as long as possible.
Careful to keep her own movements measured and slow, she looked north again through her proximabinoculars. “What is taking them so long?” she whispered to herself in frustration. But the skiff was nowhere to be seen.
Something blocked her view.
Slowly, Sillix lowered the optics until she saw the crimson chest plate of an Imperium stratusaire not ten feet beyond her hideout. Fortunately, the person was looking elsewhere, visor facing to the left, weapon raised. She held her breath, willing the strat not to see her in the darkened hole.
The lyndar string was tightening…
The warrior, turning…
And then they moved on, ordering their peers further up the hill.
Sillix let out a sigh of relief and then pinged Hale. “Tell Gownder he needs to do it now.”
“He says he’s on it,” Hale replied. “Just needs a few more minutes.”
“We don’t have any more of those to spare,” she said, and then cursed again under her breath.
The strings were about to snap.
* * *
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Cindra Kin asked Gownder as their skiff sped toward the Stratus garrison. They’d aborted their original plan of heading as far north as possible before detonating their munition on remote and turned southwest instead, heading for Veenkah’s far side.
Gownder had the accelerator maxed. The drive core was screaming from the speed and the weight, while the garrison grew larger on the horizon by the second. Cindra estimated they were less than two minutes away from the solicrete barricades and fencing around the north gate.
“Gownder?” she asked again, trying to calm the quiver in her voice. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” Gownder replied above the noise. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s wiser to send it north.”
“Wiser? Or just less dangerous?”
“Both.”
Gownder laughed at the sky. “And here I thought you, of all people, would be up for driving the spear into the heart of the beast.”
“I am, but… they will shoot it before it gets close enough to be effective against their defenses.”
“You’re right. But we need to turn this from a diversion into an attack, or else the others won’t have the time they need. So we’re improvising.”
Cindra still didn’t understand Gownder’s reasoning. “The moment they see it’s unpiloted, they’ll assume it’s a drone and shoot it! The spear won’t even come close.” She pointed to the defense turrets for emphasis.
“Which is why we need to stay on board.” Gownder cast her a sad smile, wind causing his hood to flap behind him.
Just then, his logic struck her with the force of a blaster bolt. “It is the only way for us to get near enough.”
“Yes. And I’m sorry it has to end like this for us. But it’s the best way… the only way to buy time.”
“I understand.”
“So you’re with me?” he asked as the skiff neared to within a mile of the garrison. He pulled one arm off the controls and offered it to her.
A few tears eked from the corners of Cindra’s eyes, surely from the wind. She clasped his forearm and said, “To the bitter end.”
“You’re too good for this world, Cindra. Knowing you… has been such an honor. And I’m happy for every moment we had together.”
“Even the arguments?” she replied, more tears flinging from her eyes.
“Even those, yes. You were always the best of us.”
“I am not so sure of that.”
“But I am. And that’s why you need to go and carry on the work.”
Cindra cast him a confused look that was at odds with the warm smile he gave her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re good at trying to change my mind.”
“I know.”
“But this one’s not up to you.”
In a sudden burst of energy, Gownder shoved both hands into her chest. Cindra was no match for his bulk, and her feet couldn’t stay beneath her. The railing caught her below the butt, and the next thing she knew, Cindra was airborne and flying free of the skiff. She screamed but couldn’t hear the sound above the wind and skiff’s drive core.
Anticipating impact, Cindra covered her head and tried pulling her knees up. But the moment her body hit the ground, her limbs unfolded like a ragdoll’s as she tumbled through the snow. The jarring strike knocked the air from her lungs, and her prosthetic leg pinged against the ice pack below. The world spun around her, over and over, until she finally skidded to a stop, face burning from the snow, heart beating wildly in her chest.
“What are you doing?” she screamed after Gownder, but he was already a hundred feet away. “Come back here.”
Gownder waved once in reply and then turned back to his controls.
“Gownder,” she cried. “Come back!” She tried running, but the snow was too deep, and something felt like it was broken on her prosthetic. “GOWNDER!”
But he wasn’t listening anymore, she knew. He was speeding toward the front gate, arm waving at the sentries in greeting.
At last, the skiff slowed.
Cindra sank to her knees.
Stratusaires swarmed around the vehicle, weapons held casually across their chests. Words were exchanged. She thought maybe one of the strats tensed up, while another pointed at one of the cases on the skiff’s stern… one with the Stratus insignia on it. A third and fourth stratusaire jumped aboard to inspect the hardware.
That’s when Gownder caught Cindra’s eyes from afar.
And he waved.
* * *
Even in her cold overlook, beads of sweat ran down Sillix’s purple temples. More than a hundred stratusaires had disembarked from their vehicles and mounted the hill. Several Cadres came perilously close to rebel hides, and she found herself pleading with the Fates and Muses to humor the refugees. Of course, she knew better than to believe the gods would hear her, let alone have pity on suffering people. That was not the Imperium way. But the prayers helped distract her from firing her own blaster prematurely and starting a cascade of combat.
Just then, Sillix noticed a hover skiff closing on the garrison’s north gate; the craft’s white rooster tail gave it away. Curious who it belonged to, she raised her proximabinoculars—slowly, so the enemy wouldn’t see them glinting in the shadows—and zoomed in.
It was Gownder and Cindra’s craft, but the old general was the only one on board. As quietly as she dared, Sillix hailed the man. But there was only static. She tried again, noting how the man was waving just before his skiff dipped below the garrison’s buildings.
“Gownder?” she said, voice betraying the slightest tinge of annoyance mixed with apprehension. “How read?”
There was no reply. Either the man’s comms were down or…
Or he’s closed his channel, she realized. Which only meant one thing.
All at once, white light flooded her optics. Sillix pulled back, squinting, and nearly swore aloud. Then she focused on a massive explosion and the fireball rising from the garrison’s north side. Secondary and tertiary detonations followed as more munitions burst into unstable states, showering the area with flaming bits of debris, all painting the sky with arcing furrows of black smoke.
Distant sirens echoed across the ice flats. At the same time, every stratusaire on the mountainside stopped and then turned around. There was a long pause where none of the warriors moved. Sillix wondered if they’d be recalled…
If the plan would work…
If Gownder’s sacrifice would be in vain, because there was no way he survived that.
Then, as if imperiana itself showered the land with a miracle, every stratusaire double-timed down the hill, kicking up snow and ice as they went.
“They’re standing down,” Sillix said over comms, barely able to contain her relief. It wasn’t like her to be this emotional. But the cause was just, at least for the time being; the refugees wouldn’t be safe until the Legacy was back in hyperspace.
Hale was congratulating everyone over comms when something flashed to Sillix’s lower left.
A blaster bolt.
Fired from a hide in the mountain.
“No,” she blurted.
Hale’s voice came over comms at the same time that several stratusaires turned around. “What is it?” he asked.
Before she could reply, the strat who’d been fired on raised their weapon and shot back. Sillix couldn’t see where the blaster bolt went, but she guessed the crimson-clad warrior wouldn’t have engaged without a proper target. A second later, the rest of the strat’s Cadre raised their blasters and joined in. And a moment after that, all the descending stratusaires halted and then turned back up the mountain, weapons in high ready position.
“We’re compromised,” Sillix shouted, and then aimed at the nearest strat.
* * *
“Bashok,” Hale said. “We’re out of time!”
“Can no move faster,” he bellowed in reply. “No hurt people.”
“Think of something!”
“Where you go?”
“To help Sillix.”
Hale moved through the line as gently as he could, but knowing that the enclave’s defenders were taking Stratus fire caused him to push harder than he would have liked. He finally reached a junction and took a tunnel that led north toward the overlooks.
“Talk to me,” he said over the leader’s channel.
“Thirty Cadres,” Dell replied. “Wedge formation, tagging our defensive positions. Heaviest engagement to the west.”
“On it.”
At the next intersection, Hale turned left and sprinted down a tunnel while the sounds of blaster fire grew louder. The idea of a second Sorvanna incident filled Hale with anger. He couldn’t let First Stratus slaughter more refugees.
For a moment, the sound of incessant blaster fire stopped as he raced down the tunnel. Hale wondered what strategy shift caused it; surely both sides hadn’t chosen to reload en masse at the same time. The odds of that happening were infinitesimally small, and no unit commander would ever order such a thing. Oddly, not even Hale’s own footfalls met his ears, at least not in any way he was used to. The noise was warbly and low, as if passing through a pool of water.
Hale reached a ladder that led to a main overlook, and still the blaster fire sounds were muted. Again, he wondered what had caused the cease-fire. No one spoke. Neither were there shouts or calls over comms. The quiet unnerved him.
Overhead, bright light filled the loft. Something had caught fire, or perhaps the Stratus had deployed search beacons…
But in the daytime?
A few seconds later, Hale pulled himself into the stone chamber only to find three rebels frozen in place. Two of them had weapons pulled into their shoulders and were firing, while the third man’s mouth was agape, sparks flying from his shoulder. The light Hale had seen from below came from blaster bolts entering the hide as well as those exiting the rebels’ weapons. Only the energy beams were suspended in space and time, barely moving.
Hale couldn’t believe what he was seeing…
Until it dawned on him that he was experiencing time modulation.
His gift was at work.
Unsure how much time he had before his chronosia magoi stamina gave out, Hale decided to squeeze past the rebels—taking care to push them out of harm’s way—and then slide through the hide’s window and onto open ground. The steep snow-covered mountainside was littered with stratusaires, just as Dell had said. And everywhere Hale looked, he noticed more blaster bolts frozen in the air.
His first instinct was to raise his weapon and fire on the nearest enemies; they were easy targets, to be sure. But then he wondered if his own blaster rifle would be subject to the same metaphysical laws that governed everyone else’s. A memory from engaging the enemy in the Sorvanna reminded him that his blaster had functioned properly. Then again, those strats had still been moving, albeit slowly, giving him the time he needed to outmaneuver them. So Hale raised his G3, aimed at a stratusaire, and squeezed the trigger.
Something happened inside the weapon… an energy build, as expected.
Only much slower.
So slow, in fact, that when Hale moved the weapon to examine it, the rifle began to explode in his hands. He had plenty of time to jerk away, but whatever blaster bolt had formed in the barrel was now slicing through the firing chamber due to Hale moving the weapon through space.
Pi Tae hadn’t prepared him for this. But Hale still had Whistler, his Recinnian sword. Assuming the kidar blade could withstand being used at high speeds, Hale could take out plenty of stratusaires. That, and he could outrun anyone on the slope…
Assuming he could maintain control of his abilities.
With his G3 in the throes of combusting, Hale withdrew Whistler and lunged toward the closest enemy. Not for the first time, he lamented dispatching a man or woman he may have once commanded. These were former brothers and sisters in arms. But they posed a threat to the refugees fleeing the mountain and needed dealing with. So Hale buried his grief and cut through the nearest strat’s arm, permanently separating blaster from body. He sped to the next enemy, who was aiming at a cleft in some exposed stone where two rebels lay, and hacked the strat’s weapon away.
By the time Hale reached a third stratusaire, intending to deal another devastating blow, he felt as if his soul had hiccupped, only there was no noise from his throat—no burp or belch. Just a feeling that something had shifted within him.
And then the scene around him came to life, full speed.
Blaster bolts crashed into their targets, showering hard surfaces with sparks. The two strats whose arms he’d severed reeled at their sudden loss of limbs. Meanwhile, Hale’s G3 finished detonating with a loud bang! The noise drew several strat’s attention, including the next man Hale raised his sword against. All enemies in the vicinity turned toward the rebel who suddenly appeared on the slope, and for the briefest moment, blaster fire slowed.
Hale felt completely exposed, knowing his armor would be no match for a hundred stratusaires. So he aborted his sword swing and tried desperately to return to the safety of time modulation. Pi Tae’s teachings swirled in his head, jumbling into one. But then he remembered himself on the precipice…
Remembered the wind…
The sky…
The sight of Star Steps far below…
And remembered the power of the exspiravits that flowed through him like the currents of a river.
Hale saw the stratusaires turn their weapons on him. But in the space it took for them to squeeze their triggers, Hale stepped from one plane of time to the next and watched as the incoming rounds froze in midair.
After resuming his attack on the third enemy, Hale dashed across the slope to disable four more stratusaires. Once again, he felt something inside him hiccup, and the next thing he knew, he was back in normal time with blaster bolts and micro-fusion detonators exploding all around him. He glanced to where he’d come from moments ago and watched snow billow into the air, flung high both by his footsteps and by energy rounds missing their intended target.
There was a moment of stunned silence as the enemy combatants took stock of their fallen compatriots as well as the missing rebel in the white Veul armor. Their weapons faltered as helmets panned back and forth looking for the mysterious apparition. Hale couldn’t help smiling at this; he was beating a Cohort of the Imperium’s finest warriors with a sword and a magic trick.
At the same time, however, Hale felt fatigued. It was more intense than the kind he’d experienced during Pi Tae’s training sessions. Hale guessed that his actions, fueled out of desperation, were taking more of a toll on him than those expended in steady practice with his wizened teacher. He needed to find cover before he collapsed. But that meant the stratusaires would resume their assault on the enclave. So what had his manifestation actually accomplished? Buying the rebels sixty seconds?
Desperate to avoid being riddled with blaster bolts, Hale returned to his quickened temporal state and sought refuge higher up the slope behind a cluster of boulders. He’d barely made it to safety when his strength gave out, bringing the sounds of battle back to the present. Blaster bolts zipped past the boulder nearest his head. How had they tracked him so quickly? That’s when he noticed an arc of snow drifting through the air leading to his hideout. His boots had stirred it up.
“Nice work, saba,” Dell said over comms. “Doing your whole ghost thing again. Still messes with my head though.”
“Thanks,” Hale replied as he continued to gasp for air. He felt as though he’d need a solid minute before he could run again. Hale chanced a look around the boulder’s edge and narrowly avoided being clipped by another incoming blaster round. “Looks like I’ve worked myself into a bit of a bind here.”
“Nothing the rest of us mere mortals can’t handle. Stand by.”
A few seconds later, a renewed wave of defensive fire erupted from the hides scattered across the slope. The strats advancing on Hale’s position stopped and re-engaged the rebels.
Hale let out a sigh of relief before saying, “Thanks, Dell.”
“I got you. Now, whenever you’re all recuperated and whatnot, we could use a hand in the lower section to the west.”
Hale stole another look around the boulders and spotted a heavy exchange of fire. “That you?”
Dell grunted over comms, shouted an order for rebels under his charge to reposition to another hide, and then answered, “Yeah. It’s me. Why? You wanna”—blaster fire interrupted him—“go on a date? If so, I’m kind of in the mood for gorsecca.”
“Stand by,” Hale replied, trying to steady his breathing and regulate his heartbeat while fending off the fresh wave of fatigue. As soon as he felt like he had everything under control again, Hale crossed the threshold of time and bounded down the mountain. He wasn’t sure how long he would have before the next hiccup came, but he couldn’t leave his friend hanging.
The strat doling out the most damage on the rebel hides used a Torrent blaster on full-auto with extended energy magazines. Hale swiped Whistler twice, once to disable the gun and another to sever the man’s left arm. He also took the opportunity to relieve the crimson armored warrior of three micro-fusion detonators. Hale didn’t bother setting a countdown on them; instead, he set them for instantaneous detonation and then tucked them into the arms of three different strats spread across the slope.
Guessing this was the last of his time-modulating efforts, Hale dove into the nearest overlook and was halfway through the window when he hiccuped. Behind him, the three grenades erupted in unison, showering the dark cave with light and debris. Hale crashed into the far wall and fell on his shoulder. The two rebels in the hide blinked, awestruck.
“Don’t look at me,” Hale said, gasping. “Keep firing!”
They nodded and went back to work.
“Thanks, saba,” Dell said over comms.
“Pleasure. But I’m tapped out.”
“Understood. Why don’t you—”
A new voice interrupted Dell. “Hale, this is Rim! You copy?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve got a Rodecko-class battleship and a heavy cruiser dropping out of orbit. Annnnnd now I’m seeing a fighter wing leave the fleet carrier. Hundred credits says they’re heading your way.”
“Crit,” Hale snarled. “It’s the Fortuitous. Veepo, have you intercepted any chatter?”
“Negative, Just Hale. But my sensors corroborate Mr. Fellows’ findings. Probabilities and early projections suggest you have a maximum of ten minutes before the battleship is within weapons range.”
“Weapons range…” Hale had a thought and looked back outside. “It’ll be reluctant to fire if their stratusaires are in the target area. We’ve gotta keep ’em up here.”
“Any bright ideas?” Orelia asked over the channel.
Hale had plenty, but all of them required time and munitions that they didn’t have. “No. You guys?”
“Afraid not,” she replied.
“Same, saba. Sorry,” added Dell.
“I’ve got nothing,” Sillix said. “Rim?”
“Are you kidding? They’ll blow my ship to… Hey, stop that! Hands off the controls.”
“Rim?” Hale asked, suddenly curious.
“Sorry. I’ve got a stowaway here.”
“Stowaway?”
“How goes it, fellow Fa’vlorious freedom fighters?” came the voice of an inebriated elderly man.
“Gramps?” Hale said. “What are you doing?”
“Didn’t you hear? I’m a stone away. Hided myself under the Maven’s loin flap. And, no, I have plenty of bad ideas neither. But thanks for asking.”
“Alas, I am also out of ideas,” Veepo said. “I offer this solely because there have been instances in the past where I was not asked for my ideas and therefore did not share them. However, given the fact that you are all going to die, I felt obliged to offer the—”
“Thank you, Veepomatic,” Dell said quickly. “Sheesh.”
It dawned on Hale then that he was going to have to make the call… the kind that would haunt him for the rest of his life. “Bashok? How much more time do you need?”
“Fifteen.”
“Well… you have five.”
“No five. Fifteen,” he bellowed.
“I understand, pal. But we’re out of time. Prioritize the children. We jump in five minutes.”
“What about the rest?” Orelia asked, her voice strained.
Hale didn’t want to reply… didn’t like what he would have to say. But it needed saying since everyone else was absolutely thinking the same question. “We send them deep under the mountain and pray for Theradim to have mercy.”
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