A Warrior's Sacrifice (32 page)

But the video was what it was, and it was meant to inspire and entertain and make people forget about their fourteen-hour workdays. In that, Corwin mused, it accomplished its goal.

The scene faded as the Exiles retreated with their wagons loaded with food and new alien weapons.

The game that took its place was a real-time feed of the arena killing floor. Thirty scarred Choxen, shackles at their wrists, ankles, and necks binding them together, hobbled out into the center of the sand. Except for their restraints, they were naked, their sexual and excretion organs erect with the expectation of combat and death.

Across the arena stood ten armored Tercio equipped only with short knives.

This battle was not supposed to be a fair fight; it was about spilling blood and guts, about showing superiority over the enemy. Corwin knew how it would end and turned back to the table and his beer.

After the slaughter finished, the gathered crowd dispersed, and Hadil, Chahal, and Kai turned around to join Corwin.

"So," Kai said after a moment of silence, "what do you think they'll have us do next?"

That was a tired question, one that each of them had asked at one time or another just for
something
to talk about. "Whatever they want us to do," Corwin said.

They nodded, mumbling unformed words of agreement.

"Where do you think the mission will be?" Hadil asked a few sips of beer later.

Corwin didn't answer this time, choosing instead to drink his beer and let them speak the meaningless words that helped to ease the mind.

"I think they'll send us up north — that's where the most action has been. Maybe running recon again for an advancing army or hunter-killer missions," Hadil said.

"No, I bet they'll send us south, down into Soumerica. I have some family down there; they say the Republic is hitting some stiff resistance," Chahal said.

Their conversation continued, each of them making sounds but saying nothing, really. They weren't friends, but the noises they made temporarily hid that fact. Well, Corwin didn't want anything to do with useless chatter. He finished his beer then requisitioned another, withdrawing into the swirl of bubbles and the numbness of alcohol. He ignored Kai and Chahal's attempts to draw him back into the conversation until they stopped and let him be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Corwin awoke shivering some time in the night. He was cold again, deep down, a sweating iceberg. He hurried towards the showers, where he hoped the heat would chase away the arctic chill that lingered inside.

Undressing with the others out in the hall, he no longer felt self-conscious about being naked in public, no longer felt claustrophobic inside the low-ceilinged room filled with steam, wet bodies, and voices. He was finally indifferent to it all; after all these years he no longer cared about the propositions or the wandering hands and hips. He took it all in stride now, a perfectly normal Republic Citizen.

On his way out, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors. His eyes were shadowed, skin around them clouded, darker even than the normal cast of his skin. His cheekbones protruded a bit more, cheeks sunken; his neck, though muscular, looked gaunt. His skin was ashen despite the wetness from the showers, and no amount of effort could unknot the skin between his eyebrows and on his forehead.

There was a hollowness even in his gaze. A cave stared out from behind them, an open maw of blackness that reached outward to suck in any light that fell its way.

Corwin shook himself. This wasn't the time. He had to sleep — maybe — for he had a mission briefing in the morning.

Their CO sat behind the only table in the room. He was the same man they'd been working under for every mission so far, yet he looked far more haggard than before. The circles under his eyes reflected Corwin's own, and there was a little more frizz to his hair than normal. He stifled a yawn while typing at his computer, and the room's holoprojector sprang to life with a topographical map of Normerica.

"The Choxen counterattack in 302 A.S. took us all by surprise." The CO's voice sounded even more tired than he looked. Colors washed in over the map: green for Republic lands, red for Choxen.

"Over the last several years we've pushed them back — regained our lost ground and then some." The lines shifted, sliding to new positions, the boundaries of Normerica walking southward, those of Soumerica marching north, meeting in the islands. The Centramerica land bridge filled in with friendly green to connect the two other continents. To the north, the Republic lands expanded too, the allied space extending now from the Atlantic Ocean inward to and around the great lakes and the plains beyond.

"This has been possible, in no small way, to you four. Your work with the IGA in destroying that base opened up a substantial hole in the Choxen defenses, and we capitalized on it."

He typed at his computer again, and a red dot appeared on the map to the extreme north of Normerica, up where the greens of life and even the brown earth gave way to ice and snow.

"Here in the northern wastes of Normerica is the Choxen's last base of operations. It's big, it's old, and it's well defended. The Oniban wants it wiped off the Earth in six weeks." He was animated now, his arms and hands gesturing as he spoke.

"We will launch coordinated attacks all along the border, the largest force assaulting out of Republic space from the southwest. Three smaller assault forces entering from the south, northwest, and ocean will rendezvous with the main body for the final assault. She has requisitioned us two million soldiers, so we need to make this count."

He tapped at his computer again, and the holographic map split into seven zones of roughly 1,500 square kilometers apiece; the image zoomed in on a space of enemy-controlled lands between the western shore of Hudson Bay and the Republic lands to the west.

"Your operation is code-named 'Finding Aurora.' Your objectives are to infiltrate the enemy lands within your area of operation without being detected and to mark and map enemy encampments and emplacements. This is strictly a recon mission. You are not to engage the enemy. We must not give the Choxen any advance warning. Understand?"

Corwin and the others nodded.

"Good." He tapped at his computer, and their coms chimed with new messages. "You will complete the recon and exit into Republic lands exactly forty-eight hours before mission start to upload your findings. Questions?"

"How about supplies?" Corwin asked. "Are there dead drops, or will we need to carry everything on our backs?"

"Carry everything in with you."

Kai raised his hand. "What about dropping us in from the air?"

"Negative. It is essential that we have a path through their sensors mapped so we can exploit those weaknesses during the invasion."

The CO paused, looking everyone in the eye. "This is
big
. A success here along with minimal loss of life will see all of Normerica free by the end of next year. You can reach me on my com with any further questions." He left the room, leaving the four Maharatha and silence behind.

"Orders, sir?" Kai asked, turning.

"We plan." Corwin stood, taking control of the computer and the image it displayed. With a few key presses, he placed a grid over the map. "Each square of the grid represents two square kilometers. What's the best route?"

Over the next few hours, Corwin was precise, objective, and scientific in his mindset and methodology, shaving away the extraneous, the emotion and fear that plagued any dangerous operation. When they finished, their route was ready, and they had contingencies prepared. Yet despite all their planning, they knew that even the best-laid plans would unravel the moment they set foot on the ground.

They would depart the following day, inserting themselves at the northwestern edge of their designated area of operation, and proceed from there, traveling and mapping from west to east, then east to west and back again. If everything went well, it would take them three weeks, with a three-week buffer just in case things went awry.

"Anything else we might be forgetting?" Corwin asked.

No response.

"Fine. The transport leaves at 0900. Be ready by 0830. Spend your free hours as you wish. Just make sure you're ready."

Logging out of the computer, he walked from the room. They could do what they wanted, but Corwin wouldn't; he'd go over their plan again, likely even a third time, until he was sure that everything had been accounted for.

Hurried footsteps behind. They were heavy.

"Corwin, sir," said Kai.

"Yes?" Corwin didn't stop walking.

"We're going to go eat and have a couple drinks — only a couple," he added after a sideways glance from Corwin. "Would you like to come?"

"No."

"Sir, it might be nice to blow off some steam…"

"I'm not interested, Kai. I have things to do."

"Sir," Kai said, "the mission is planned. Everything is ready."

Corwin stopped, turned. "Well,
I
want to go over it again." He tapped two fingers on the Variant's enormous chest. "Got it?"

"Aye, sir. We'll see you later."

Silence welcomed Corwin into his room. No one to ask him questions, no one to try to draw him out. He could just
be
there, alone with his thoughts. Opening his computer, Corwin sat in the single chair at the small desk. He typed, pulled up maps, measured, thought, rehearsed, moved, counter-moved.

He checked their plans a second time, and when he saw no mistakes that would get someone killed, he let it be. With a few keystrokes, he requisitioned their required equipment and turned off his computer.

Corwin undressed and put his clothes away, taking the time to fold them, turned off the lights, and lay on his bed. He closed his eyes. Took a breath.

Sleep did not come as bidden; he only felt nagging uncertainty with fear at the edges.

What had he forgotten? Something vital, perhaps, something that would get his people killed. Again.

Would he need to send Chahal to die for the sake of the mission?

Would his own inabilities get his people killed?

He could not answer these questions; could not stop their whirl and twists in his mind, razor-sharp at the edges. When sleep came, fitful, it was filled with dreams of death, of killing and being killed — himself. His family. His people.

An explosion. Phae's charred husk. Corwin could feel the heat from her smoldering body, smell the charred flesh.

It was a nightmare of the worst kind, in which the dreamer couldn't distinguish reality from imaginings. Corwin shivered, his teeth chattering.

It was into this unseen miasma of dream world that his Voidmates stepped.

Hadil entered first, oblivious to Corwin's struggle as she swept through the room to the chair and table at the far side. Her passage sent little eddies of scent spiraling up to where Corwin lay.

He sat bolt upright. "Phae?" His words were soft, his throat and voice hoarse.

The name, unspoken in their presence for these last months, sounded like a gunshot. All conversation and movement ground to a halt. They watched as Corwin looked around the room, his face no longer a mask of pain and detachment but of child-like expectation.

Chahal recovered first. "Give us the room," she said. After the two had hurried out, Chahal approached Corwin and placed her hand on his knee. "Phae isn't here," she said.

"No. I smelled her. She
was
here … I … I..." Corwin's dull eyes moved about the room, searching but not seeing.

Chahal grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him once, then a second time, harder, each time speaking his name. He didn't respond. She'd seen this before in her crèche training, traumatic experiences overwhelming a person's normally functioning mind. They become trapped in a mental loop, like a computer, for days or years, until something brought them out.

Looping one arm under Corwin's shoulder and grabbing him around the neck with her other hand, she hauled him off the bunk, his body registering the shift in balance in time to get his legs up under him. Still holding him up, Chahal hit him, twice, once in the gut, then with a full powered open-hand palm straight to the face.

Blood gushed from his nose and dripped down to mingle with the same from his split lip. That small animal part of his brain kicked in, recognizing pain and danger, and shorted out the loop around which his Human mind rode.

His eyes focused as he awakened from his nightmare. Surprise gave way to anger, and out of instinct Corwin struck back. Chahal was ready for it, deflecting the blow, and directed Corwin's reeling body up against the bed frame.

"Get it together!" she hissed into his face as he struggled.

"Chahal?" Corwin asked as his mind regained its tremulous balance. He shook himself free from the shoulder lock, and Chahal let him go but kept her hands connected to him as he turned to face her.

"You hit me?"

"You lost it, Corwin. You were reliving… our time with the IGA."

"I … yeah. I remember." He brought his hand to his lip, dabbing and tonguing at the blood. It was then that he became aware of Chahal's hands pressed up against his chest. He tried to remove her hands, but she brushed his attempt away.