forty-nine
Watching the whole tribe come together for the evacuation order was something to behold.
Mira always knew that the humans here were capable of great humanitarian feats, but to see the docking bay loaded with space cruisers ready for take-off?
To see the arrival of Master Vallahar’s assistants, who asked to be sent to the elderly and feeble?
To manifest the arrival of whole families and other civilians to the fortress, carrying only what mattered most to them?
It made Mira think, Maybe we can do this, after all. If nothing else, getting the civilians out of the way for the battle ahead was prudent.
“We are at war,” she announced to the mercenaries at the final announcement in the mess hall, where everyone gathered to listen impatiently for their orders.
You do not only get orders. You get motivation.
Mira’s training in the seminary, her experience as a priestess, had prepared her for this moment.
“Nerilis Dunsman wants to sacrifice every breathing life on this planet to the Void. It is genocide, and it goes against every teaching of the Temple. I may be his daughter, but I denounce him. My desire is to stop him from taking as many of us as he can—but even if a few fall,
know that our actions today will ensure many more are saved!”
A few hooted. A few more clapped. Mira glanced at Olma, who stood beside her, and received a shrug.
“We are joined by those from Yahzen who believe in our cause. We have some of the best pilots on Cerilyn who have already volunteered to fly evacuees to a ship commissioned by House Marlow outside of our orbit.”
When Ramaron conveyed that the ship had made it from a nearby Federation outpost in the same system, Mira had heaved a sigh of relief—until then, she didn’t know where evacuees could be quickly taken in time for cruisers to return for refueling and another round of evacuations.
“As mercenaries, you have all sworn to protect your fellow brothers and sisters in arms. It is my formal order that none of you are to evacuate until we’ve secured every civilian who will leave. Then we will begin your evacuations as well. Anyone who deserts will be put to death. Do you understand?”
A few grunts made it clear—they did.
Mira looked across the sea of weathered, scarred, and hopelessly young faces that were attached to bodies clad in black.
Please tell me they understand. As good as Mira was at projecting confidence and classic julah bravado, she still wasn’t a mercenary.
She hadn’t grown up here. She wasn’t even the same species as them.
They trusted her because of who and what she was—assuming they trusted her at all.
“I say that we are at war,” she returned to after a long pause, “because our adversary will stop at nothing to destroy us. He has shown me his preferred future. It is one where we are returned to the Void against our wills. Yes, even me. Take heart that I will be here until the End of All Things,
if that’s what it takes. I am your chief, and I have every intention of going down with this marked ship. Now, do we fight?”
Yes, that was a word they knew. As soon as the first war cry sounded in the mess hall, others followed, raising their fists and their voices against a common enemy. Mira kept her perfect poker face so they wouldn’t see her relief.
“I was afraid I wouldn’t get through to them,” she confessed to Olma on their way back to the office. “I don’t want people to needlessly die. And they barely know me as their chief.”
Olma snorted. “You are a julah. You can tell them to do whatever you want.”
“It’s that simple?”
They stopped at the bottom of a long and winding staircase up one of the fortress’s towers.
“Every mercenary,” Olma began, “be they born on Cerilyn or brought here in chains, is taught to fear julah. We do not accept assassination contracts against anyone of julah descent. We do not go to Yahzen. We do not, generally speaking, get involved with julah affairs.
You are feared and respected simply because of how you are born. Shit, you threatened them with execution if they attempted to desert!”
“Isn’t that the penalty for deserting, anyway?”
“Sure. But you’re the one who brought it up. From your julah mouth. They know you’re serious. You could rip their heads off with a snap of your fingers. They’re not likely to run afoul of you if they can help it. For the Void’s sake,
they only listened to me because I spent years getting to know them and never joked around. They knew I was a dead serious bitch.”
Mira held back laughter. At least she could laugh about that.
“Olma!” someone called behind them. “Chief Mira!”
It was Giselle, gaining ground on them as she rushed down the hall, her long braids fluttering behind her until she came to a complete stop.
“What is it?” Mira asked.
Giselle’s chest was slightly puffed from the exertion. “We’ve got visitors from Bow Village. They say their chief sent them to aid us in any way they can.”
Mira glanced at Olma, who shrugged. “We’ll take all the help we can get,” Olma said.
“Send them to my office. We’ll meet them there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mira didn’t know who to expect when she sat down, Olma in one of the chairs in front of her, but when Giselle escorted two young women in Third Tribe garb, she immediately knew something was… strange.
For one thing, the shorter one didn’t talk. And the taller one with wild, bushy hair never shut up.
“Chief Demirius sends his regards,” the grizzled mercenary from Third Tribe said as she approached Mira’s desk.
“We’ve begun our evacuation procedures in Bow Village. He said we could be spared, since it sounds like you’ve got a fight on your hands here. Well, we’re two of the best assassins Third Tribe has to offer. Tell us where you need us.”
“I’m sorry,” Mira said, elbows on her desk. “But who are you?”
“I’m Eyne,” the talker said. “And this is my partner, Nem. She doesn’t say much, but she gets the job done.”
Eyne… Why did that name sound so familiar?
Mira gasped.
“What?” Eyne stepped back. “Even if you’ve seen a ghost, I ain’t dead yet.”
You’re Sulim’s ex. The one who died in the raid. Only in this reality, Eyne had been abducted alongside Sulim, possibly before they even had the chance to meet. If this is one of your tricks, Ma…
Instead, Mira took it as a sign. One she would grab with her whole fist.
Sulim had one job that afternoon—oversee the evacuation procedures, which were already underway in the docking bay.
She knew why Mira and Olma assigned her this mess.
I’m good at cleaning up messes. As the pandemonium settled in on the townsfolk, most of whom charged upon the fortress as soon as the order of exovacuation was sent,
Sulim was instructing other mercenaries on how to construct orderly lines as space cruisers were filled with fleeing passengers and their handheld possessions.
Women with babies and small children were allowed to the front of the line, much to the chagrin of older men and teenagers who suddenly didn’t like the idea that they might be slightly more on their own.
Yet, Sulim assured them, if they followed orders and did as told, they would have their turn to fly up and unload on the massive ship waiting for them an hour away.
Each cruiser was assigned a competent pilot that the tribe trusted not to desert once they were off the planet.
Mercenaries that she had fought alongside, drank with, and even told a few secrets to over the years each grabbed a cruiser and motioned for up to five people to get in.
I wish we could fit more. The larger ships were slower and required more fuel, however.
And more than one pilot. Sulim had done the math and didn’t love it.
Better to get these smaller ships up there and back as quickly as possible.
Preferably before another earthquake hit.
If only I could get in one. Sulim carried a holographic clipboard around, checking off known names of townspeople and staff who were first in line.
After she saw off the initial three ships to drive out of the hangar and blast into the atmosphere, she turned her attention to the next set. Then the next.
For two hours, she worked meticulously, raising her voice when necessary and suggesting that the mercenaries helping her with the lines arm themselves “just in case.”
Even she carried a laser on her hip, prominently displayed in front of the civilians already half-drunk and angry at the electric energy in the air.
They were mildly silenced when a quake hit, everyone, including Sulim, dropping to the floor and covering their heads until it passed.
Luckily, out there in the docking bay, there wasn’t much to fall on them.
“I could use a few more pilots!” she shouted into her communicator that was set to broadcast to everyone else on the network.
“We found three more serviceable cruisers being fueled up right now!”
She tried not to think about how much fuel was being used on this endeavor—if Mira were right about her father, it wouldn’t matter, anyway.
“Aren’t you one?” someone shouted back at her.
“I’m busy keeping everyone alive and orderly down here!”
“The chief said she was sending down a couple who came over from Third Tribe!”
Sulim had to think before responding. “You’re kidding. Third Tribe sent someone?”
Another person poked her in the shoulder. She whipped around, facing Eyne, who was accompanied by Nem.
“We were told you needed more pilots?”’
Sulim put away her communicator. “How about that,” she said.
“From planetside to starside,” Eyne quipped, referring to a common saying about how those abducted together ended up dying alongside one another. “Let’s get this done, babe. I know you want to get to Yahzen with your sweet squeeze.”
Although Sulim knew her old companion was joking, she said, “Mira and I aren’t abandoning this place. Not until everyone else has been evacuated.”
“To think… you guys could teleport out of here with those other julah.”
“We could, but we won’t.”
“Hey, I’m not telling you to not go down as a hero. That’s why we’re here. To make this go faster! Now…”