A few minutes later, a ghoul appears out of nowhere. This one’s skin is no longer pale. “Deed’s done.”
I follow the ghoul to the training room. There is a court outside the other rooms where people practice war. In that court where the enemy had once gathered, there are only armored corpses and a tower of blood in the center, mutinous and swirling. Valdir has not turned off his cloak. His braves call to my Lions to come out.
My Lions seemed so mighty in the Nucleus. They are almost sheepish when they limp from the room and see the tower of blood and what Valdir’s braves have done. They rush to me protectively and stand between me and the remaining braves. The Obsidians suffered immense casualties. Only ten attend Valdir. Eleven out of sixty-three. Valdir must see my expression because he decloaks. His chest is flayed open in three places.
“A good death,” he confirms of his casualties.
“Minotaur?” I ask.
“Almost.” He shrugs. “He had armor. He killed ten. Votum four. Both are wounded. Both enraged. They will regroup. After this, they will follow. They will kill us the next time. We must flee now.”
“This way.” I take off at a jog. It is slippery going.
* * *
—
We reach sanitation but already hear the enemy coming. I help Holiday into the fetid tube through which daily flows all of Bastion One’s aggregated waste as Glaucus and Sophocles slide straight down into the darkness. She gives me a nod and I give her a push. She disappears, the last of my Lions. I load in and hang on by the rim. Valdir and his Obsidians wait with blank faces. Radios squawk in the distance.
“This leads to the fertilizer plant. It is two clicks above the Hollows,” I say. “We will have to go on foot from there. Through the hydroponic farms. If they follow via the shafts, they can still catch us before we get to the Hollows. It’ll be a race over open ground from—”
Valdir puts a hand on my head and shoves me down the tube.
28
LYSANDER
War Engine
SNIPER BULLETS HISS DOWN at me from the bulwark that bars our path to Sector Eight. Demetrius, Markus, Kyber, and Drusilla return fire and follow me as I duck away from the assault to take cover behind the freshly arrived tank Rhone’s using as his forward command post. An antman has finally managed to get in touch with Horatia.
My guards chug down water and wait for the antman, a Green bristling with antennas, to hook his umbilical into the port in my helmet. Rhone nods to me from inside the tank. I nod back. We’re doing well. From the opposite side of Sector One, Horatia’s face appears in my helmet, washed with static.
“Horatia. Report.” I can barely speak my mouth is so dry.
“We’re taking heavy casualties, but we’re almost through the bulwark to Sector Two.”
“Well done, Horatia.” I swat away the medicus attempting to examine the three holes Virginia’s Lionguard put in my thigh, cuirass, and shoulder. The suit has filled the wounds with clots of resFlesh inside while liquid armor has coagulated to plug the holes in the armor itself.
Markus kicks the pushy medicus in the ass. “The suit’s got him. Begone.”
A ragged cheer goes up as a column of starShell reinforcements bound for the bulwark clomp past at a jog. Ajax runs with them, accompanied by a dozen Gold new men. He lifts his razor to me as he passes. I salute back. He wanted one last crack at the bulwark’s stubborn defenders. On a day he can’t seem to fail, who was I to say no?
Blocks of Praetorians and my house legions queue down the tunnel waiting for the bulwark to fall. We’re ahead of schedule, but we need to keep up the pace.
“Apollonius will be driving like a dagger to the Hollows by now,” I tell Horatia. “He’s relying on us to suck up their reinforcements. Once you get through, keep pushing. Do not stop. Do not slow. Press to the bone. We’re taking heavy casualties too, but if we keep up the pressure, Apollonius will punch through the Hollows. He does that, the sectors will fall in a cascade.”
“Diomedes is still on pace?”
“On pace? He’s setting it. If we had ten like him, we’d already be dining in Agea.”
I exaggerate, but not by much. The rim knight is the consummate professional. He joined my attack as he promised he would, and targeted no glorious prize like the Julii complex or the dockyards themselves. Instead, he went after a water cistern and flooded a reactor to shut down all the power to an entire Bastion. Then he took on the credo of the day—speed, initiative, shock—and went back onto the surface of the moon and skipped ahead with his phalanx to cause more chaos behind the enemy’s lines in Sector Six. He is unsupported and will die if I do not reach him, but that was his idea, and not once has he bothered to check how far out I am. I said I would meet him in Sector Six at a set time, and he trusts that I will.
“We push on at this rate, I’ll unite with Diomedes in just over an hour.”
Horatia wishes me luck and signs off. I pop my helmet and Markus tosses me the tank’s water hose. I chug and see my Praetorians also bear wounds. The Lionguard were tough bastards. Still, we smashed through them to take down their shield reactor to Sector One. With Ajax, Kyber, Rhone, and his old guard, my double-strength century has more talent than I’ve ever seen in so small a unit. I do my part, but I’m no Achilles. That’s not my role.
There’s a roar from my Praetorians and house legions. I peer past the tank. Ajax has vaulted up the debris spill from the breach and hacked down the last Republic starShells blocking it. He jumps to the side and our starShells pour through the bulwark into Sector Seven. Chanting my war cry, the legions follow at a run. Ajax salutes the Praetorian below who gave him fire support.
“Shit,” Markus curses, enamored with Ajax’s performance.
“Right?” Demetrius says. “War engine.”
“He’s a prick, but…shit.”
“Just needed the proper vehicle around him’s what.”
The medicus is watching Ajax too, likely ready to pester him as well. Only Kyber isn’t watching Ajax. She leans against the tank, her jaguar eyes slits.
Markus turns on me. “Dominus, if he doesn’t kill you, can we keep him?”
“I think that can be arranged,” I say and watch Ajax fly back. He lands with a bang.
“Water?” Drusilla asks.
Ajax seizes the hose and drinks for a half minute. He spits when he’s done. “And they said this place would be a second Rat War.” He points at my guards. “You four.” They wait for an insult. “That fire support. You deserve statues.”
“Thirteen,” is all Drusilla, Demetrius, and Markus say, but it sounds more like obviously. A knight like Ajax only really comes unlocked when he can close. That takes a good fire team.
“Your mother taught us, dominus,” Markus adds. It is shockingly charitable, but not as much as when he says, “You’re the best closer we’ve seen.”
“Since her?” Ajax asks, annoyed.
“Period.” Ever.
Ajax goes blank, nods, and turns to me, deeply touched. He doesn’t know what to do with that compliment. The medicus comes to pester Ajax. Kyber raises her rifle and shoots the medicus in the head. We’re all stunned. Kyber approaches the medicus and opens his hand to reveal a trigger mechanism.