“Freedom and might! Liberty Corps forever!” The War Force chanted. The thousand-plus fighters stood in their full armor, their vehicles and weaponry prepared, all before the sun had risen. The gear had some slight variations. Up close they weren’t totally identical – dozens upon dozens of factions. But from far away, the sea of screaming bodies in red or blue armor was one Liberty Corps, gathered under the mobile spotlights of Sloan’s camp.
Kol watched them from the walkway outside his cabin. He remembered the pride he’d felt when he’d guided Newtown Division through the process of starting their chapter and buying their armor from central command.
How many of his troops would have fought for Sloan? How many would have wiped away Littlefield, seen its defenders as outlaws, or butchered its people? Kol thought of the chase after the Aesir, at the beginning of the disastrous festival operation, and the obscene amount of ammunition they’d wasted in the pursuit. Would he make that same decision now? Would he allow Goes and the forces in the town park to use teargas on the protesting crowd? Had it really only been two months?
“Stand with me and end the outlaws!” Governor Sloan’s voice projected from a bullhorn. He stood on a makeshift stage, wearing his signature cavalry hat, facing his assembled force. “Stand with me and build a safe future for true patriots!”
“Freedom and might! Liberty Corps forever!” The War Force continued its half of the call and response.
Kol observed the assembly. He did not cheer. He did not speak. He appreciated the moments of inaction, before the coming battle.
He’d slept well the night before. Despite all the dangers, he found rest and real peace in his last hours at Sloan’s camp. His fears for the future had lessened when he’d gotten Max out of harm’s way. His brother’s safety and his encouraging words had eased Kol’s guilt. Without the weight of self-hatred, even navigating the battle ahead didn’t seem impossible.
Brielle walked along the walkway toward him, also dressed in her full armor, her spear sheathed at her back. She didn’t speak until they stood side-by-side. The crowd’s roar was too great to hear from any distance.
“You did come back,” she said. “Is Max somewhere safe?”
“He is.” Kol had no intention of giving any specifics regarding Max’s location. He feared a round of questioning, but Brielle nodded at the gathered War Force.
“Look at this,” she said. “It’s a real regiment.”
“In terms of numbers,” he said. “How are you? I missed you last night.”
“You did,” she smiled, but still faced Sloan. “I needed sleep. It’s not every day you’re called to fight a legend.”
“He lives up to his reputation,” Kol said. “Gregory. Don’t underestimate him. That’s a deadly mistake for anyone. This would’ve been better left to the Baron’s infantry.”
“You’re making the world you deserve!” Sloan bellowed. “There’s no place in our country for lawless border people. All of you are great heroes – the greatest heroes – because you’re ready to give up everything to build the country we deserve! You are strong. Today, you will kill for the law. Today, some of you will die for the law. All of you will be heroes. All of you will bring triumphant, glorious war! We will know you and love your names forever.”
“Freedom and might! Liberty Corps Forever!”
“You’ve been independent too long.” Brielle stopped even pretending to look toward the Governor. “Too much analysis, not enough fight. Don’t you want a rematch with Orson Gregory or the Cloud girl? If you manage another energy field, you could get past any explosion she throws at you.”
“I’m not looking for renown,” he said. “All I want is a safe world, a safer version of the same one we lost. I won’t find that in Littlefield.”
“The way to the Dreamside Road is there,” she reminded him.
Kol couldn’t afford to be turned aside. He needed to find Duncan. Then they needed to leave. Brielle would do as she was told, no matter what she was told. He felt certain of that.
“I want to keep the Dreamside Road out of the wrong hands,” he finally said. “After everything I’ve seen, I know that safety is the goal, not glory from the Czar.”
“You’re a strange man, Kol.” She turned back toward Sloan and his speech. “Very strange. I never know what I’m going to get from you. I liked that a lot, when we met, but now I don’t know.”
“I know.” He also looked back toward the War Force, their thousand plus screaming faces, a rumbling mass of life, all of them – or almost all of them – prepared to destroy Littlefield. This Liberty Corps force was built from dozens of remote divisions, all working to end the free governance of one town. He couldn’t appreciate the irony. No, there was nothing he could do but escape without innocent blood on his hands. “I surprise myself all the time.”
“Go now!” Sloan commanded. “Ride to Littlefield! Build the new country with me! Death to outlaws! Life to the new country! Freedom and Might! Liberty Corps forever!”
The War Force answered him. “FREEDOM AND MIGHT! LIBERTY CORPS FOREVER!”
* * *
“Timing is everything,” Eloise said. “Even with the new batteries we have, we’ll only win if our timing is right, so pay attention. Pay attention to your group leaders. We have veterans and men and women with military or crowd control training leading you.”
Enoa watched the ragtag group of defenders, gathered around Eloise. She saw many dressed in the Corwin coveralls. None of the other defenders matched. Few had any sort of body armor. Most wore nothing more protective than heavy coats. None of them spoke. They watched Eloise.
Enoa saw older people than she expected, and younger. The trusted residents of Littlefield were present, whether geriatric or juvenile, quiet and scared and armed. There were just over one hundred, total. They stood clustered between the assortment of cars and trucks that dotted the slight, rocky incline beside the highway.
Two cannons also waited on the hill. They looked like they belonged on the deck of a war ship. If they stood next to the road, the weapon’s barrels would have extended across both lanes.
An assortment of wireless machinery sat at the base of the cannons. Enoa didn’t know which devices were shields and which were mirage generators, but she’d seen Eloise and Orson attaching the Aesir’s spare solar cells to them.
“A Liberty Corps bounty hunter came after me and my friends,” Eloise continued. “They put a listening device on my house, so if you’re standing here, that means I trust you. That also means we’re not going to be talking about our battle plan with anyone who isn’t here, okay? If you have an approved communication method, and you have anything to say to your loved ones, do it now.”
No one moved. None of them spoke.
“In that case,” Eloise said. “You know your group leaders, so let’s get moving. We need to be in position early, in case they’ve got recon drones or scouts.” The group began to disperse, breaking down into teams of no more than ten.
Enoa walked away from the gathering, to the place where the water trucks were already hidden from the road, by walls of rock.
“I’d still prefer if you were closer to the mirage.” Orson stood outside the Aesir, parked just behind the water tankers. He wore his usual gear, but with the visor, bandana, and hood lowered. He stood on an angle, so the fire sword’s sheath was partially visible. Something else hung from the scabbard’s strap, what looked like a hunk of black rock with a red gemstone set into it. The object glowed with a red light, almost volcanic. “I’m not sure how long the field will extend this far.”
“I’ll also have one of the little shields, right?”
“You will.” He nodded. “Once Jaleel gets done putting the cell in it. But if the field fails, and they see you… Maybe it’s better if you move closer.”
“I think I’ll have an easier time focusing if I’m further away.” Enoa imagined herself standing in the midst of the defensive line, trying to Shape, with Littlefield’s protectors fighting and potentially dying right beside her. “You said that if this goes on long enough for the generators to run out of power, we’re screwed anyway.”
“We’re totally screwed if the shields go down before we take out their heavy-hitters.” Eloise approached them, slipping her hands into thin work-gloves. Once the gloves were on, she pointed to the glowing object at Orson’s back. “Is that what I think it is?”
“You probably have a pretty good idea,” he said, his expression unchanged.
“What is it?” Jaleel asked from the Aesir’s doorway. “I want to know what the glowy-thing is too. I asked him, and he wouldn’t tell me.” He stepped from the ship, struggling to maneuver the boxy shield-projector. He walked with heavy footfalls, working his way toward the water tankers. Orson ran to him and took the other end of the generator.
“Tell me what the glowy-thing is.” Jaleel spoke again, after he and Orson had placed the projector.
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“You should hope you don’t have to find out,” Orson said. “It’s something that was loaned to me a long time ago and I never gave back.”
“When was that?” Eloise walked around him and stood close to the glowing rock. She pointed at the object. “She made this for you, didn’t she? It fits on the sword’s sheath.”
“I got it before the Battle in Norlenheim,” he said.
“No!” Eloise stepped back. “She made this for you when you were breaking up? Orson, you have to call her! If we live, you have to call her.”
“She didn’t want me to get murdered by Thunderworks.” Orson groaned. “There’s nothing more to it, than that.”
“Oh!” Jaleel nudged Enoa. “This is a fire-lady-girlfriend thing! He has a fire thing!”
“Oooh, Orson’s girlfriend packed him a weapon for the battle.” Enoa didn’t want to think about the absurd Shaping feat she was about to attempt. Teasing Orson was much easier. “That’s so cute. You should write her a nice note and tell her how much you love the weapon she made for you.”
“This is nothing to joke about,” Orson said. “It’s a weapon of mass destruction. I used it to destroy an entire Thunderworks capital ship, a city-killer!”
“That’s so nice of her to make that,” Jaleel said.
“Seriously, Sirona is a very thoughtful gift-giver,” Eloise said. “It must’ve taken her forever to make it. It’s hand-made isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is hand-made,” Orson laughed too, despite himself, and despite the immense danger to come. “How’s Wesley doing with your dad and Carlos?”
“He’s behaving himself,” Eloise said. “He’s still with the group at the shield in the middle of town. Dino’s not happy to be stuck in the boring coordinator’s office with Alec, but we’re not sure how they’d react to each other.”
“It’s probably not time to test that,” Orson said.
“Your dad and Carlos are working at the shield together?” Jaleel asked. “That’s such a nice bonding opportunity for them.”
“Is he serious?” Eloise asked. “I can never tell with him.”
“I am!” Jaleel said. “I think that’s really nice. They’ll always have that. It’s…”
“Report from Halfpoint!” A man yelled from down the incline. “Liberty Corps War Force sighted. They’re coming in on the Mother Road, as expected. Their numbers and weaponry appear to match the warning. They’re on their way, E.T.A. forty minutes!”
“Everyone to positions!” Eloise’s voice changed, immediately, becoming louder and stronger. “Everyone to their places!” The crews scattered. A large group had attached one of the cannons to the back of a truck. They drove the weapon across the street. Others had set up small barricades of wood or concrete blocks, making small firing positions.
“You’re sure you have what you need?” Orson stepped close enough to Enoa for her to hear him over the din.
“I think so.” She drew her aunt’s bracelet from her pocket. She didn’t plan to wear it, but she liked keeping it close, despite Jaleel’s and Orson’s concerns about its ability to monitor her Shaping.
Jaleel caught both of them in a quick hug. “I don’t like splitting up the team,” he said. “You two are all alone if something happens.” Enoa slipped the bracelet back into her pocket.
“Just watch Eloise’s back.” Orson checked that his coat was closed. He drew up his visor, bandana, and hood. “The Aesir is the most exposed target for them.”
“Other than you,” Jaleel said. “Everyone will see you.”
“That’s the plan.” Orson tightened his sword’s sheath. “But I also have two of the most dangerous weapons in the world.” He started down the hill, away from them, toward the road. “Good luck!”
Enoa watched Jaleel press buttons on her shield projector. Then he shot her another nervous glance, before stretching out his arms a second time.
“I’m scared,” he said, when she hugged him again. “I don’t want to be the guy who gets the Aesir blown up. What if I get the Aesir blown up?”
“You’ll be awesome!” She could feel his hands shaking slightly, behind her back. “You already destroyed that railgun. This is a lot easier than that! Anything you don’t get, those big guns can take care of. You’ll be great.”
“Thanks. I know you’ll be amazing. I’ve been on the other end of your Shaping.” He stepped back, took a long breath, and turned toward the Aesir. She watched him climb inside the ship and Eloise join him there. She watched all the motley forces of Littlefield find their positions.
Enoa breathed deeply. She meditated, searching for momentary peace. When the Liberty Corps arrived, her mind would only be half-present in the desert morning, surrounded by battle. The other half would sit in the imaginary glade, outside Nimauk, where she could do anything, even wield the cycles of the world into a shroud to blind an army.
* * *
Duncan followed a group of evacuees out of town. There was no call to leave Littlefield, no evacuation order or instructions, but the lockdown ended. Many townspeople fled.
Officially, there’d been a nearby encounter with a ‘hunter-class Kappa experiment’, but Duncan saw the roving trucks and teams with scanners. They were looking for something electrical, not biological. The Hayes boarding-house owners asked all guests to abide by the request to stay off the road.
He’d been awake most of the night, lying in the old twin bed. He watched the scanner teams complete their sweeps outside, looking for Liberty Corps spies and more listening devices.
He’d kept an eye on the Cobalt Isodar, until both signals moved. The Aesir and Enoa Cloud departed Littlefield, but whether to run or to fight, he didn’t know.
So when the scanner teams finished their sweeps and the procession of cars began filing out of Littlefield, Duncan followed them. He couldn’t take all of his belongings. He didn’t want anyone knowing he was leaving, permanently. He couldn’t afford the attention, but he crammed what clothing and belongings he could into his backpack, leaving behind only a few pair of pants and some shirts. Most of his things had never left the station wagon.
He tried to ignore the locals’ misery. He tried to ignore the sobbing of the tearful old man embracing his spouse and grandchildren, before they fled. He tried to ignore the young farmhand who was building a barricade in his yard, adorning his fence with makeshift spikes from pitchforks, as if such things could stop the War Force.
These people’s homes could be destroyed the way Enoa Cloud’s home had been. Duncan couldn’t afford to pay attention to that. What could he do? He didn’t work for Sloan.
He’d jumped into the old station wagon, as the last legs of the informal evacuation trailed away. Had the Corwins or some other Littlefield authority put out word that people should evacuate? What prevented any of the evacuees from tipping off the Liberty Corps that the town knew they were coming? Was anyone thinking that far, or were they just letting citizens run, ignoring all potential danger?
Duncan didn’t know, but he followed the procession of cars from the town. He joined them as they dispersed across dusty desert routes and dirt roads, scattering north or west. He chose the western group, traveling on an unpaved single-lane trail that rattled him in his seat, like a haywire massage chair. The trail ran parallel to the old Mother Road.
The other evacuees picked a rightward path at a fork in the road, leaving Duncan totally alone. He dimmed his headlights and forced the poor station wagon off-road.
The car bottomed out. He yelled and fell back in his seat. He inched the vehicle forward, still in darkness, crawling toward Route 66. If the Aesir crew and any locals were planning to meet the War Force, Duncan reasoned that’s where they would be.
He had no idea how long he nudged the old station wagon through the darkness, but the sky went from black to dark purple while he drove in fits and starts.
Duncan had propped the Isodar in the seat next to him as he drove, but he saw and heard nothing, no ping, no beeps, no sign of the Cobalt Nine. He’d begun to think they’d all run away.
Finally, he crossed Route 66. The Isodar beeped and showed him a small dot, far to his left. A Cobalt Nine signature, either one of them or both of them, was waiting on the south side of the old Mother Road.
He reached the other side of the roadway and drove into the dirt. He shut off his headlights entirely and crawled forward again. He could see no sign of the Aesir or the town’s defenders, but he would find them. While they had the Cobalt Nine, they could not hide.
They were planning to fight, but they wouldn’t expect Duncan. Enoa Cloud would not expect someone to pursue her aunt’s key.
* * *
Exactly one thousand, one hundred and seventy-nine people formed Governor Sloan’s War Force. Two tanks were present, driving in the front of the force, setting the speed, providing forward firepower. Governor Sloan rode in the lead tank.
The cannon-mount mechs stood on trucks, directly behind the tanks. They didn’t have the same long-range capability, but they were strong enough to defend anything that could take on the tanks.
The railgun and its defensive vehicles took up the far rear. It had a greater reach than most of the other weaponry put together, and any attack on the main War Force would not affect their primary weapon.
In between, over seven hundred odd Rifle Corps troops, just under four hundred Blades Corps troops, and an assortment of officers filled the ranks. They were packed into jeeps, Humvees, the backs of trucks, and assorted modified transports. The Shapers drove toward the front of the pack. The three hovercraft, including Sir Adrian’s Shadow Strike and Major Gabrielle Rinlee’s Partizan, flew above the formation, issuing scouting and route information to the War Force.
They chanted as they drove. Some sang. Sloan seemed less committed to quiet than Kol had expected. Maybe he thought they were too close for the people of Littlefield to escape. They could only fight or surrender. Was that true?
Kol Maros drove alone in his rover, at the far westward edge of the formation. He’d waited at the camp, lingering until the majority of the War Force had departed before joining the line. He was hundreds of meters behind the front of the Force. The sun had risen by the time he drove through Halfpoint.
Kol had his datapad keyed to Duncan’s transponder. No signal – not yet.
“Right turn in two miles.” One of the airship comm officers spoke through the command channel. “This is Eye-in-the-sky Three. Fork in the road in two miles.”
Kol glanced at his datapad. Still no signal from Duncan.
If Orson Gregory and the Corwins hadn’t received the warning, was Kol really going to enter Littlefield with the rest of the War Force?
Duncan said the town had locked down. They had to know. They wouldn’t do nothing. Either they’d fled, or the people of Littlefield would soon launch their counterattack. Kol knew which one was more likely. He resisted the urge to pull off the road.
Kol didn’t know what to do. What could he do in an ambush? His earlier clarity was gone, leaving him with the nagging dread he’d felt for months.
“There’s a figure in the road ahead,” the comm officer said. “He will be an obstacle.”
“He gets crushed if he’s too dumb to get out of the way.” Another voice spoke through the channel.
“Possible visual match,” Eye-in-the-sky said. “It may be Orson Gregory. This individual’s gear resembles Gregory’s from the research videos. He has a sword of fire.”
“We have to crush him!” The second voice yelled. “Can you imagine his face? Outlaw road-kill!” Kol heard multiple cars ahead of him rev their engines. He heard the singing and yelling intensify into an unintelligible roar.
“You will hold your fire!” Sloan shouted through the comm. “Anyone who makes a move at Gregory is spending the next six months in my brig. That kill belongs to Sir Adrian. No one will interfere. Alert all commands. No one can interfere!” Some voices offered grumbled responses.
“He’s mine,” Nine-flails said. “I’ll kill him here, right in the road. That’s the right place for him to die.”
“Halt!” Sloan shouted, in response. “Come to a full stop. Give Gregory fifty feet. Let them all have a demonstration of our Sir Nine-flails.”
Kol could see nothing, but he began to slow down. He pulled onto the shoulder of the road, coming to a full stop before the vehicles ahead of him did. With hundreds of cars in the road, it was impossible to see Gregory or the front of the force.
He raised his datapad – still no sign of Duncan.
But he did see an invitation to a remote feed, aerial video from the Partizan. Kol couldn’t tell whether the video was sent to the entire force, or if Brielle was having it transmitted specifically to him.
Kol enlarged the feed and saw Orson Gregory. The wayfarer wore his usual costume. The eyes of his mask glowed a familiar cold blue. His sword was already drawn, casting odd, flickering shadows along the early morning roadway.
Gregory spoke, his voice picked up by multiple microphones in the War Force communication network, giving his words a strange, echoing distortion. “You can’t go any farther,” he said. “The road is closed.”