Chapter 42

Onderon, Japrael System

Japrael Sector

There was a sight, from a hill not far from a small monastery, overlooking a forested valley. It was the sight of the magnificent Kira Fortress, melded into the side of a three-spire mountain, aglow with the golden lights from thousands of tall arches sculpted into the stone that served as windows and the hundreds of balconies that sprang from them. It was the sight of rolling waves of dull steel, crashing against the walls like a seaweed-thick tide against an immovable rock.

I could feel my bones rattle as the hills erupted with the fury of a thousand cannons, self-propelled mass drivers hammering against thick energy shields. On the valley floor, tens of thousands of soldiers clashed underneath the smoke of roaring starships, turrets meting out volley after volley of turbolaser bolts as they circled around the Fortress.

And the mountain responded in kind. It reaped slaughter; with the roiling mass of bodies all in one place, the defenders needed to expend no effort to kill. Shells and bolts shot out in hails, cleaving through ranks of men like hammer and chisel on porcelain. The mountainside glittered as hidden casemates roared out a blistering, creeping barrage that painted the land with mud and blood and swept entire battalions back to their siege trenches.

Skreevs and rupings duelled each other in the air, clawing and biting for superiority until their torn carcasses rained down from above, many times their screaming riders falling alongside, or even worse, still chained to their saddles. Aurek-class interceptors swooped down from above, strafing the battlefield, usually too swift to be caught by enemy warbeasts. But every so often, a Kiran drexl would pounce from behind the walls, stinger-tipped tail striking out with the speed of a viper–and spear an unsuspecting starfighter straight through, before dashing its mangled remains against the ground and retreating back behind the shields.

It was only the rare occasion, as both sides were holding back their drexls for the opportune moment. Such massive beasts could turn the tide of battle on their own, and even warships like Amanoa’s Wrath recoiled whenever there was a sign of a drexl sallying out.

“It’s going to take another month to grind down those shields,” General Tandin grumbled, his polished armour gleaming, “If you could bring your damn warships here, Bonteri…”

I didn’t want to answer him, not while I was forced to watch his ‘solution’ to the time-consuming siege; to brute force the mountain redoubt and take out the shield generators through sheer manpower. The result? Onderonians dying in droves, noble banners toppling under artillery fire, warbeasts screaming in agony as they ripped each other apart, and inches of land gained. It was one thing to preside over a space battle, and watch exploding starships from hundreds of klicks away, the death count nothing more than a rising number of the stats repeater.

It was another to witness gore flying through the air, hear the sound of human torture, and smell death rising from corpse-filled trenches, and fetid pools of coagulated gore. Flies swarmed raw chunks of day-old meat. Sand, dust, and blood. Few could imagine the sight of their admixture.

I could now. And I could retch.

“There’s a Republic diplomatic fleet in orbit,” I swallowed, “My warships aren’t going anywhere. Believe me, if I could, my first choice would be to blast this accursed mountain from the sky.”

I fruitlessly called Verala again, hoping for an answer that wouldn’t come.

General Tandin side-eyed me, “You need to have more faith.”

“I dislike loose ends,” I told him, “If she’s caught up in this because of me…”

Vaguely gesturing towards the siege, I grimaced at the mere thought of it. Not just her, but everybody here. ‘It shouldn’t have come to this’ was at the forefront of my mind. This could have been avoided. Should have been avoided. Something, somewhere, went terribly wrong. And I needed to figure out what that catalyst was, so that I didn’t have to watch a disaster of this magnitude happen again.

“General!” an orderly galloped into the camp atop a striped dalgo, “A Dor-Drel host was spotted crossing the eastern ridges.”

Enemy reinforcements, aiming to lift the siege. We didn’t know how much of the highland clans had already allied with the Kirans, and we didn’t want to wait around to find out. For all we knew, a host of hundreds of thousands was already marching. Kira Fortress had to fall by then. If it didn’t the possibility of this internal dispute becoming an actual civil war would suddenly become very real. The only reason we could keep this lowkey was because only the Royal Army’s standing forces had been redirected here. If the noble banners had to be martialled… the cat would be well out of the bag.

Maybe not a cat. A pritarr, more like.

“We must take Kira Fortress by tonight,” Tandin crossed his arms, “Have all our troops retreat to the hills.”

“Retreat, sir?” the orderly pronounced the word like it was a curse.

“I didn’t know the Army accepted men short of hearing.”

“My apologies, General. Right away!”

Faded standards were raised, a horn bellowed across the hills, and the disorganised mass of soldiers reeled like a retreating gale, peeling off the walls and siege engines and making back to the trenches. As if awaiting for precisely this moment, a clarion call resounded across the battlefield, rising in pitch until the hairs on the back of my neck rose with it. Fortress Kira’s stone gates swung open, and a torrent of armoured heavy cavalry thundered out to run down the flight. Killing lances lowered and levelled. The Kiran cavalry spread out into a thin line, and a furious wavefront of lightning blue destruction rippled out from their lines. The rearmost line of the standing army was scythed down like sheared wheat.

General Tandin sniffed in disdain, and raised his hand. A second horn bellowed, and with practised discipline the disorganised mess of soldiers condensed into near-perfect squares of pike and shot at the drop of a dime. The Kiran cavalry didn’t slow, bone-shaking trot quickening into a furious gallop that churned the earth into a red slush as they rumbled down the hillside.

In response, the unbroken squares of pike and laser lances inched forward, three rows deep from every second man, guided by veterans walking on the outside like sheep dogs. In a blink of an eye, the enemy cavalry was upon them, steed and men alike thirsting for blood.

Two-thousand lances cracked and roared, enveloping the valley in blue light. Birds scattered from every direction, and thin white smoke covered the line and hung like fog as the men stooped instantly to reload, revealing the second rows taking their place and firing. For thirty long seconds, the entire valley was consumed by a blinding hail of laserfire from both sides. From my vantage point, far enough away from the eye-watering light, I could see the damage. The first ranks of dalgo-mounted cavalry topped like bowling pins, bones splintering and steel twisting, trampled and crushed underhoof by those after them.

Half the Royal Army’s frontline seemed to slump or sag against their fellows, shields and long pikes or laser lances dropped to the dirt as men collapsed. And then heavy armour and momentum met the sharp end of the pike.

There was no sense of impact, no thunderous crash. The heavy horse melted into the squares and crumpled like wet paper. Three rows of sharpened iron pierced and repelled the first, throwing back gnashing and snapping dalgos with stab wounds to chests and knees.

Others advanced behind them more cautiously, batting at the pikes and riding between the gaps of the squares. Another volley of laserfire roared out, and then the squares clamped shut on the cavalry like the jaws of a warbeast. Momentum turned from ally to foe as the Kiran cavalry found themselves trapped with nowhere to go but the killing point of an Izizian pike. The lances fired again.

I closed my eyes as screams mixed with the terrible cacophony of hoofbeats, bent steel, and shattering spears. What remained of the Kirans had submerged in dying comrades and chaos, many surrounded on all sides by heavy infantry, while most pushed uselessly against a wall of death. Finally, the horn blew, and the sortie turned tail and ran.

⁂

This is all that woman’s fault!

Saw went white as another rumbling fist of thunder smashed into the fortress’ shields, warped blue sky rippling out with tongues of crimson fire. The entire mountain shuddered under the Royal Army’s relentless assault, fiery braziers flickering and eyes jerked anxiously as overhead rock groaned. Dust sifted down, crackling and popping in fire pits and powdering hair, following each destructive bellow. Again, and again, and again.

Even with the fires, a thick, heavy fug settled. And with the rising smoke blotting out the sky, it seemed downright nocturnal.

“Saw!” Hutch roared over the howling siege, “This is not what we planned!”

The battle seemed so far away. The chamber the Kirans had given them faced east, sheltered against the mountain and on the opposite side of the siege lines. But there were no siege lines in the sky, and the mountain fortress found itself in the eye of a maelstrom of warbeasts, swooping in and out of the shields as the Space Force viciously clawed and bit their way to the generators, all while the ominous thumping of the Royal Army’s massive laser siege ram pounded away at the main gates.

The only way it could get any worse was if those Separatist warships appeared over them–but they weren’t, for some reason. Saw opted to count his blessings, however little he had.

“There was no way any of us could have known the Royal Army already knew about the Kirans!” Saw hissed, “If we did, we would have never come here!”

“That isn’t what I’m talking about!” Hutch seized his collar and dragged him closer, “I’m talking about joining the Kirans! I didn’t say anything when you made us follow the damn Beast-Lord, but I know I’m not the only one who joined Steela because she wanted to bring Dendup back! He’s our rightful king!”

Saw could feel over a hundred piercing stares digging into his skin like billhooks. The Kirans allowed them to stay, but nothing more. And now they were all in this room, still dirty with sweat and grime, waiting for the Royal Army to chop off their heads–if the castle didn’t collapse on their heads first.

He grabbed Hutch’s arm and dragged him out onto the balcony, away from the eyes. The shields seemed close enough to touch, beyond the safety of the stone, as it warped and billowed like storm-tossed waters. Streaking shells pounded the world around them–the thin filament the only object between them and a fiery death. Saw counted to five, then forced it out of his mind.

“I needed to keep us alive!” Saw insisted, “Kira Fortress was the only immediate place of safety–”

“We had the Nest!” Hutch shook his shoulder, and it took every fibre in Saw’s body to not instinctively throw him off, “We could have just continued making our way to the highlands, and disappear into the hills before the Royal Army could catch us!”

“You don’t understand!” Saw shouted in frustration, “The Royal Army was already on our tail! They already knew our every move!”

That made Hutch interrupt himself, pale eyes blinking in surprise– “You… are you serious?”

“There was a spy in our ranks, reporting everything back to Iziz,” he explained as calmly as he could in the middle of a raging battlefield.

“How?” Hutch whispered, “How did you know?”

Steela and Dono invited them in, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t. Hutch was right; the vast majority of them joined Steela because they wanted Dendup back. Saw, on the other hand, didn’t care. He didn’t care who sat on the Onderonian throne as long as they were Onderonian, not some Separatist puppet. Or Republic puppet, for that matter. He knew they only trusted him, followed him, because he was Steela’s brother.

Saw gritted his teeth. They were all nothing, weren’t they? Dendup, Rash, Kira. This little rebellion of theirs. Nothing at all, in the face of something as vast and incomprehensible as the galaxy. Under Ramsis Dendup, they thought they could continue to ignore it forever, and live peacefully in their own untouched corner of the universe. But the galaxy was here now–it came to them, and it wasn’t going to leave. Not even the Kirans were a worthy enough foe to require warships.

They were insignificant.

But that didn’t mean they had to stop fighting. That’s what fighting was for.

And Saw knew that the fighters followed not him, but his sister. He can’t let their faith in her die because she allowed a spy into their ranks. There were people with them in that safehouse, but they didn’t know the truth either. Only he did.

“I found her out, at the ruins when the Beast-Lord interrupted me,” Saw straightened his back, “She escaped. And now the Royal Army is here.”

“Who was it!?”

I can’t say the name. Saw kept his lips sealed, and that only incensed Hutch even more.

“Is that why you accepted the Beast-Lord’s offer so quickly!?” he demanded, “Without asking any of us? Because you already knew we had been sniffed out!?”

Saw breathed in, and made his decision; “No. I don’t care who lives in that damned Palace. I only care that the Separatists and their puppets are not. Dendup, Kira, they’re all the same to me. But unlike Dendup, Kira had more guns. I saw my chance, I took it.”

For a brief moment, he saw confusion on Hutch’s face, and then a rictus of rage. And then there was a blaster barrel to his gut and a finger on the trigger.

“Then you aren’t fighting for the same reason as us,” Hutch snarled.

Saw allowed himself to be socked across the face, allowed himself to be thrown back into the hall, and allowed the rebels–Steela’s rebels–crowd around him in confusion, suspicion. Some rushed out to help him up, but Hutch dissuaded them with a furious wave of his blaster.

“Does Steela know!?”

Saw spat, “How could she? If she isn’t already dead, then she must be thinking we’re already in the safety of the Nest.”

“Steela trusted you! We trusted you!” Hutch roared, “You betrayed us all, led us here. And now we’re all dead men!”

–A thunderclap, and for a split second Saw believed it was his own heartbeat. A gust of hot air flooded in from the balcony, accompanied by a cry–shrill, bloodcurdling, and utterly otherworldly. Saw could count the number of times he heard that noise on one hand, but he couldn’t mistake it for anything else.

Skreev. Dxunian raptor.

“Now, I wouldn’t say dead men,” a mirthful, and deplorably familiar voice pointed out.

⁂

“Brooding does not suit you, Bonteri,” General Tandin said gruffly, “Out with it.”

A carpet of bodies spanned the entire valley, so thick that I could barely make out the earth underneath, red with blood and churned into a slick crimson mud. I breathed in–bodies from both sides laid face down in the dirt, and those facing up stared blankly into the rose-coloured sky with empty eyes. Wandering dalgos grazed on the corpses–some still with saddles, others with limp bodies still tied up in the reins–munching on flesh as loitering soldiers stabbed the dead. The Royal Army had withdrawn, but everybody knew there was going to be another assault in a few hours.

Another assault. More blood. That stench was going to linger for months to come, I thought.

I shook my head, “Just wondering what I could have done to avoid this outcome.”

“What you could have done?” Tandin raised a thick white eyebrow, “The answer is nothing at all. You did not have the information available to you. You could have never known.”

“I should’ve had all the information available to me,” I gritted my teeth, “I should’ve known something was up the moment you let me have my way so easily.”

“And then what?” Tandin countered, “Would the droids have remained in the city, increasing tensions with the Republic, while embittering Iziz even more?”

“If that would have led to a more preferable outcome, yes.”

“You do not know if it would,” Akenathen Tandin chuckled deeply, mockingly, “The rebels could have been emboldened. The droids, the Republic. What if they ended up remaining in the city, and continued striking droid patrols during the summit? There would have been less bloodshed, indeed, but would that have been preferable to this?”

I rubbed my face, wiping away the oppressive humidity, “No. It would have not.”

“How far do you want to go back?” the General continued, “Blame the Royal Court, perhaps? It was their eagerness to introduce Onderon to the galactic stage that piloted the invitation to the Republic and Confederacy. I did not want this outcome either, Bonteri. Consider that the King would have my head should we fail here.”

“Then what?” I spun around, furious despite myself, “Should I just accept that there were no good outcomes, that despite any choice I could have made, there would have never been a peaceful solution?”

General Akenathen Tandin met my gaze with a silent rage that made me feel like a child, “Do you think I did not ask myself that question every night following the Officer’s Coup? I know what it feels like to be helpless, Bonteri, and allow me to impart on you the wisdom you taught me the day my men turned their spears on me; men are unpredictable.”

“I know that!”

“Yet you do not consider it when making your decisions,” the General rebuked, “And neither did I, then. People are not puppets on a Malgan theatre play, Bonteri, and nobody is omnipresent! You convince yourself you know this, yet you expect everyone to play the roles you made for them. There will always inevitably be facts unknown to you, or third parties waiting for an opportunity to intervene. The larger and stricter you craft your plan, your strategy–the harder it will crumble when something inevitably slips.”

“You slipped!” I accused.

“I took that opportunity to consolidate royal influence,” he agreed, “And yet I did not expect the Kirans to overreact. I expected them to do anything other than spark another war so hastily. But men are unpredictable, and I prepared for the worst. How do you think the standing army was able to respond so quickly?”

“Don’t treat me like the green-faced child I was a decade ago,” I scoffed, and for a moment I could only marvel that I could speak to the Lord General like this without repercussions, “I know how the world works. The world is unreliable, and fickle. Always prepare for the worst. That’s what I do, General.”

In both lives, there had always been people above me, standing over me, demanding things of me. But now I was that person, with all the shiny effects that came with it and a fist that commanded hundreds of warships and thousands of soldiers. There was one fact; I made it. I stood near the top of the ladder, and I could count the rungs above me with a single hand. And yet, I never felt less in control. Like this rank was just another face I could wear that didn’t actually change anything.

“Of everybody who acted against me in the Officer’s Coup,” General Tandin sucked in through his nose, “You were the one I overlooked. And with the curse of foresight, I see now you were the most dangerous. I knew the ringleaders–Jamiro, Tiree, and the rest–but you and Mishar were the disease who spread through our ranks. You wear a different face for every person you talk to, convincing them to do your bidding. And somewhere along the way, you tricked yourself into thinking that was how the world worked.”

What the fuck are you talking about?

“Forget it,” I snorted, looking away, “You’ve gone senile.”

“Listen to me, Bonteri,” Tandin snarled, and I forced myself to listen, because Tandin was built like a bear with tree trunks for limbs and a grip that could probably crush my skull like a melon, “The only thing I know about you is that in the end, you will always prioritise yourself over everybody else. You think only yourself is real, and the world around you is inhabited by characters who you must cajole and influence to get what you want. It has worked for you so far, but it won’t work forever, and this situation proves it. What do you think Verala Mishar is doing right now?”

“Finding a way to return and report back to me–”

The General set his jaw, and I immediately knew that was the wrong answer.

“What were her original orders?” he asked with a cool calm.

“To compromise the rebel forces,” I answered, “But communications were cut, to which I could only assume meant she had been compromised.”

“But you think she is alive.”

“…Yes,” I confirmed, admittedly hesitantly, “She still has her raptor with her.”

Tandin narrowed his eyes, “Then have you considered that she may still be trying to carry out her original orders?”

“Why would she?”

“Because she’s Onderonian, and Onderonians don’t leave matters half-finished.”

“Speak for yourself.”

The General blew out a heated breath, “In the purple king’s name, Bonteri, when was the last time someone did anything for you without direct orders?”

The last time– I could name a few instances of my droids doing so, but I had a feeling ‘programmed habit’ wasn’t the sort of answer Tandin was looking for. I thought back on the past year, climbing ranks, giving orders, doing my damnedest to survive the war… and realised there was not a single instance I ever trusted someone enough to do something without strict orders. Except, wasn’t that my job? To give orders?

“Your obsessive need for control is going to fail you one day,” Tandin told me, “You treat people like droids, when they aren’t. You project your worldview on the rest of us; that we only do things that are self-beneficial, without considering that not everybody thinks like that. I agree, Bonteri, that if you were Mishar’s place, you would have returned in order to risk your skin any more than you must. But I doubt Mishar thinks that way.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I was quiet for a long while, the sight of mud and dirt and shifting blocks of soldiers blurring before my eyes until the squares looked like a particularly bloody chessboard. Then, I made my decision, and lifted my comlink to my lips. If Verala was still out there, so was her skreev.

The General lightly brushed his moustache, “If Mishar is alive, and isn’t here, where is she?”

She would have tailed the rebels. To Kira Fortress.

“Get a Clazca wing ready for flight, Vander,” I ordered, “We’re going on a raid.”

As I turned to leave, Akenathen Tandin called out one last time; “You don’t need to be in control of everyone and everything, boy. This may sound absurd coming from me, but you need to trust those who serve under you. That’s what they’re there for. You’re not the only one trying the best you can.”

Why is fighting an interstellar war easier than this? I decided on a suitable answer; because Onderonians are far less rational than the galactic standard. I supposed that was the reason why I found the galaxy far more pleasant than this hellhole. People like Sev’rance Tann, Calli Trilm, Simon Greyshade–they always wanted what was best for themselves. It was rational, it was simple. When I asked for something, they would follow through so long as they had something to gain from it as well. But Onderon? Everybody here is a fucking madman.

“Attack when I give the signal,” I ignored him, “Find her or not, we’ll take the Fortress tonight.”

⁂

Saw cursed, and saw an Alvera didn’t look a hair different from the day she slipped from his fingers, alone on the balcony. The only sign a raptor was ever present were the scuffed claw marks dug into the masonry, and the ringing in his ears.

“Who in the name of the Four Moons are you?” Hutch demanded, whirling his blaster around.

Kriff! If she speaks, this is all going to be for nothing! Saw eyed Hutch’s unguarded rear, and resisted the instinct to jump the man from behind. He still had his own blaster, tucked in behind his back, and wondered if he had enough time to draw it before somebody else shot him first. From the looks around him–he was already a dead man walking.

In any case, he wasn’t getting out of Kira Fortress alive. That was fine with him. But the rebellion must. At any cost.

I need to stop her from speaking. How?

“You’re the defector from the safehouse,” someone recognised.

Stang. Stang stang stang!

Hutch lowered his blaster by an inch, “You’re one of us…?”

Alvera tilted her head, meeting Saw’s desperate eyes. She grinned.

“I’m sure there’s someone here who could vouch for me,” she continued, holding his gaze, “Remember old me, guys? The ex-guardsman? Well, I decided that the moment you people joined the Kirans there was no way you’re escaping the headsman. Too high profile, you get me?”

At the mention of the headsman, Hutch whirled around again, as if he had forgotten Saw’s presence. The blaster, however, was still aimed squarely at Alvera. Hutch isn’t professional, he reminded himself, just some thug from the lower city. Hutch and his gang weren’t there when Alvera joined them; he was still suspicious of her.

“Well, you’re right about that,” Saw slowly straightened his knees, carefully eyeing the trigger arm that was following his every move, “Can’t say it was the smartest decision to return.”

“Oh, not really,” Alvera agreed casually, “But I got in touch with some of my old pals. There’s no way for the Kirans, but you dumbasses? When the Royal Army breaks down the doors, you drop your blasters and none of you will die.”

“…Really?” a meek, but cautiously hopeful voice piped up.

Saw couldn’t tell where it came from, but right then he could’ve both killed and kissed her. What in the Demon Moon is she playing at? What’s her end goal? Alvera grinned at him again, as if saying ‘if I wanted you all dead, I could’ve had the Royal Army drop on you in those ruins like a sack of bricks.’ He wanted to call out her bluff, except he didn’t know if she was bluffing in the first place.