“Plans borne of desperation too often fall apart when met with reality.”

—Admiral Friminil Yaegervox

A smile crossed Zaina’s lips, and then faded. “Anyway, the ship’s going to be here in two days, so we need to find a way to buy time until then. I was thinking—I mean, if you don’t have any other ideas—I could take a piece of the warsuit to Ondor, make him think you and everyone else here are dead. Then, while he’s orchestrating whatever comes next for Archava, you all wait it out and slip offworld unnoticed.”

An amused chuckle came from Fell. “You got this all figured out as far as the escape, don’t you?”

“It’s risky, I know,” she said, “but I really think, if I tell Ondor the right story, it’ll work. That way, no more mercenaries come for Freewater, and everyone here gets a fresh start on Geirdel, or somewhere.”

Running a hand through his hair, he said, “Well, I don’t have any better ideas. Look, what do I have to do to make this happen?”

“I think a piece of the warsuit—something they can recognize—would be enough.”

He nodded and said, “You’re strong, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so, why?”

Without replying, Fell stood and pulled an elongated tool from his belt. He climbed atop the warsuit and spent a minute or two poking and prodding the suit’s canopy in precise places before it slid off and dropped into the sand with a dull thud, leaving the upper-cockpit exposed.

Zaina stared at it. “The head-covering? Are you sure?”

Fell jumped down and landed without making a noise. “When we leave Archava, this suit’s going to be staying here; there’s no need to keep it intact if this all works. Besides, they’ve all gotten a good look at this.”

“But if it doesn’t go well, this could be a bad idea.”

“Like you said,” Fell replied, sorrow suffusing his gaze, “things can’t stay like this. If there’s even a chance this could work, it’s my responsibility as warden to take that chance—and bear the brunt of the risk. Besides, the suit’ll still work, and she still has more than enough weaponry to deal with Almada and his ilk if things go wrong. I’ll have to be a little more careful is all. And if that doesn’t work, Leda knows how to use the suit better than me—but not by as much as she’s a better sniper.”

Zaina was speechless. Even after how she’d acted the day before, Fell still trusted her almost instantly—she expected to have to convince him it wasn’t a trap.

“If you’re gonna go back to Almada,” Fell said, “I’d do it quick, if possible. There’re probably more mercenaries on the way. The sooner you reach him, the better the chance he calls them off. If they come here and find out your story’s wrong, it could end up bad for you—I know Almada probably acted all buddy-friend, but he’s ruthless when it comes down to it. You gonna pin it all on me?”

“I—uh, I don’t know. I was thinking of saying the ships destroyed Freewater.”

Fell rubbed his chin. “I don’t know—it’d probably look better for Almada if you told him I killed everyone. At least, as far as paperwork is concerned, which hopefully, is all he cares about. Might help him sleep a little easier knowing he didn’t have to fudge anything from your testimony. The last thing we want to do is give him an itch he feels he needs to scratch.”

Seeing the wisdom of his thinking, Zaina nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Are you sure, though? I mean, your name would be on all this—it’d get dragged through the mud forever.”

Fell shrugged. “If it means Almada leaves us alone for two days, I’ll be happy to live with a tarnished name on Geirdel. Or, more likely, under an alias. Always liked the name Jan.”

Zaina chuckled. “Jan, huh?”

“Yeah—hey, before you head out, can I ask you something?”

Her eyebrow rose. “Hm?”

“You said you’re from Demelia, right?”

“Yeah,” she said.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I heard about what happened there. We’ve got a semi-operational comms relay inside the tower, so we hear some of what’s going on. I’m sorry to hear what you’ve been through.”

Zaina shrugged. “It’s not like you blew it up.”

“If you don’t mind me asking—how’d you deal with—you know—losing your home?” he asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I know your family’s probably safe and sound somewhere, but losing such a big piece of your life—your homeworld—how are you dealing with that? I feel like I can’t even imagine it.”

Her eyes fell to the sand. “To be honest,” she said, her voice lowering, “I don’t think I ever did deal with that. I have a lot of dreams about home, the way things were. But every day when I wake up I have to accept that that’s all behind me now. Maybe it only will be when I find a new place to call home—someplace I choose.”

A warm smile came over Fell’s face. “You’ll find it. You’re young yet.”

“Someday,” she said.

Fell nodded and extended a hand. Surprised at first, Zaina reached out and shook it.

“You’re going to be a hell of a lancer when you get your legs under you,” he said. “You’ve got the heart already. That’s half the battle.”

“Let’s hope they come in soon,” she said with a wry grin. “If you don’t see me for two days and no one else shows up, you’ll know it worked.”

“Well,” he replied, “if this is the last time we’ll ever see each other, I’d say it was nice to meet you, Zaina.”

She nodded and turned toward the warsuit’s helmet lying in the sand. It was four feet in diameter and at least half a foot of solid, heavy metal. Zaina gripped its side by one of the connective ports and dragged it through the sand with surprising ease. With that, she set out for her camp.

Xyrthe was taking a nap in her tent; instead of disturbing her, Zaina scribbled her intentions on a note and slipped it through the opening of Xyrthe’s shelter. Zaina then set about packing up her supplies while trying to make as little noise as possible.

I’ll reconnect with Xyrthe back on Kaadu. I can always vis-screen her once I’m clear of Ondor. I’ll probably have to tell him she died, too. Geez, this is going to be a fucked up story.

Finally ready to set out, Zaina hiked her knapsack over her shoulder and started back toward Ondor’s base of operations. As she waded through the sea of sand, the story she’d tell Ondor played in her mind; she had to have all the details right to make it convincing. People’s lives were at stake.

“Okay,” she said, “so I’ll say Xyrthe and I stayed the night in the canyon near Freewater to scope them out. When the ships came, Fell started executing civilians and then took them down, so Xyrthe and I moved on Fell. She gave her life to get Fell out of the suit—no, Fell killed her on the approach so I had time to…”

Her trek continued as the sun rose and dwelled in the sky. Sweat now caked her skin, coagulating in any loose areas in her TAC-suit. It was decided—she hated the desert.

I hope I never have to go to a desert again. This sucks.

At around midday, something broke into view over the horizon—desert riders, two of them, accompanied by a convoy of hovering armored transports. A flash of hope sparked in Zaina’s chest—this had to be Ondor’s mercenaries! She’d caught them on their way to Freewater—right in the nick of time.

Waving her arms madly to get their attention, Zaina ran to meet them halfway. The desert riders seemed to notice first, slightly altering their course. As they came closer, their occupants came into view—Captain Gilvus, alive and well, was stationed on one rider with Fredan; Veimla and Ardual were on the other, the latter accompanied by one of the dreichs of his namesake. It was a mechanical beast akin to the Vash Dragons ridden by the Dragonriders of Midliore, but less draconic; the creature had a wider wingspan than the length of its body, with its wings stretching over fifty feet; the tail, long, barbed, and split into three writhing ends, was poised to strike at a moment’s notice. The dreich head was long, with a sharp pair of jaws and rows of short, jagged metal teeth. Its eyes were bright red, and cruel things reflecting ancient malice. Twin engines were encased in either wing, casting a sharp crimson light on the desert below. Both riders also had at least five biriflers in black armor, their weapons trained on Zaina.

She gulped. This was a bigger war party than Ondor indicated he had available. Still, it was too late to back down now—and too much was riding on this.

The riders swooped in first, stopping on either side of her; the transports strafed to the outside, hovering above the sand and blowing it in every direction while their engine noise lowered to a lively hum. Zaina pulled her TAC-shawl over her mouth and nose and put her vis-scanner over her eyes.

Geez, these guys are rude.

Ardual leaned over the side of the rider. “So, the little lancer that could comes home, eh? What the fuck happened?”

With a heaving grunt, Zaina tossed the massive helmet toward the desert rider. It landed with a dampened thud, kicking up sand. In as serious a voice as she could muster, she said, “Reister Fell is dead. Where’s Ondor?”

Ardual guffawed. “He’s dead, is he? I’d like to see his corpse. Mind taking us?”

Zaina pointed to the helmet in the sand. “That’s proof enough. Take me to Ondor—I need to get back to the Order.”

Ardual squinted. “Where’s your partner?”

Shooting him a hateful glare, Zaina replied, “Buried with the rest of the town. Fell killed them all. We attacked after he took down your fighters, and—”

“Is that so?” Ardual asked between fits of deep, heaving chuckles. “Those fighters’ final visual feeds tell a different story of your involvement.”

“Hey, boss,” Veimla said, “she’s lying. Bio-scans show the same amount of life-forms as yesterday. Confirms the last visual feed from Gronda, too. I knew we couldn’t trust these heretics the Order sent us. This dumb bitch thinks we were born yesterday.”

A toothy grin spread over Ardual’s face as every birifler on the desert riders readied their weapons, all aiming at Zaina from different directions. Her heart dropped, eyes widening in fright—she had failed Freewater.

No—they know.