Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (65 page)

“Oh,
not much. Just this.”

Jeff
handed a book to him.

“A
book! A medical book! Oh, shit!” Jeff handed the second and third books to
Carl. “Three medical books? I can’t believe this!” Carl grabbed Jeff and danced
him around the room.

The
box of cartridges was appreciated, and two of the pens served to ice the cake.
Carl thumbed through the books for most of the evening while Jeff and Gaereth
talked. He tried to pay attention to the conversation but failed miserably,
much to their amusement.

Toward
the tail end of evening, Carl tenderly closed a book and held it up. “These are
a big dose of what we left behind on Earth. Although I’m not sure I want to
know, what’s going on there? How much damage did that quake do?”

“You’re
right,” Gaereth replied with a speculative look at Carl. “You may not want to
hear it.”

“That
bad?”

“Probably
worse, Jeff.” Gaereth frowned. “Thinking about it now, it seems to me that
earthquake in the Northwest set a ripple going that may keep bouncing back and
forth across the country until everything is gone.”

“It
doesn’t sound like you’re talking about seismology.”

Gaereth
glanced at Carl. “It’s all coming apart, fellows.”

“What’s
left of Seattle?”

“The
quake must have raised the bed of Lake Washington eight or ten feet, Jeff.”

“Holy
shit,” Carl said in a horrified whisper, “Lake Washington is huge and right in
the middle of the city.”

Gaereth
nodded grimly. “Exactly. When all that water hit the ship canal, it pretty much
gutted what was left of central Seattle. The wave front undermined the medical
center and collapsed half of it, destroyed the stadium, turned Fremont and
Ballard into mud flats, and took out the waterfront. You can imagine what it
did to the bridges across the lake, not to mention everything along the lake
shore and the rivers that discharge from it.”

He
thought he knew the answer, but Jeff took a deep breath and asked, “Downtown?”

“Maybe
half the buildings survived the quake. Most of those that did survive are no
more than shells. I left Seattle about six weeks after the quake—still no power
or water, sewage lines were smashed beyond repair, and typhoid was heading
north from Portland.” Gaereth tried to continue but couldn’t until he had taken
a drink of coffee.

“Rainier
corked off.”

Carl
and Jeff froze while their minds reviewed images of the mountain. Even though
it was far south of Seattle, Mt. Rainier still dominated the skyline. Carl
shifted in his seat, and sighed.

“It
erupted.”

“It
blew up. The top one-third of the mountain is gone.”

“But
Tacoma! I mean, wasn’t there some talk about mud flows?”

“Tacoma
is no more. Not as a city.”

“It
can’t just be gone!”

“Doesn’t
matter what you call it,” Gaereth replied with a disconsolate shrug. “One
hundred and fifty thousand dead and two-thirds of the city under a sea of mud.
Mt. Adams, St. Helens and Baker also erupted. You can take it from there.”

“I
don’t want to take it from there!” Carl jumped to his feet shaking his head
violently. “There must be several feet of ash covering Washington and Oregon!”

“At
least that, and as far away as Nebraska and Kansas. God help them, it reminded
me of one of those post-nuclear war movies. Tacoma was gone, and Seattle looked
like it had been nuked.”

“And
the looters moved in.”

“Yes.
They didn’t even wait for the aftershocks to stop. By the time I left, the
National Guard was everywhere and martial law had been imposed. Shoot to kill
dusk to dawn curfew, even summary executions.”

Carl
leaned on the table for support. “God, damn.”

“Yeah,
it’s that bad. The Pacific Northwest is in free-fall. Then I headed east. While
I’m no sociologist, that quake seemed to hit the entire country right between
the eyes. Things started coming apart almost overnight, but that isn’t the
worst of it. Those volcanoes put so much ash high in the atmosphere that it’s going
to alter the entire world climate. Earth may be in for an ice age, fellows. You
can imagine how many doomsday fanatics that brought out of the woodwork.”

“Armageddon.
The end of all things.”

“Among
others. Then there are the militias. I don’t think anyone realized how many
there were. Iowa is stable, law-abiding state, but even there militia groups
were carving it up into spheres of influence.

“Your
part of the state seems to be holding its own, Jeff. The farmers got organized
early on; hell, they had to! Black marketers were raiding crops, not to mention
ordinary thugs and hoarders.” Gaereth walked over to the coffee kettle. “I
understand some of the Alarai on Skene filled you in, Jeff?”

“They
were hard pressed to keep the link open, but did manage to give us a thumbnail
sketch about the Alarai and what they expect of us.”

“Jeff
passed it on to me,” Carl added, “and I will admit to being overwhelmed. It
seems to me that we have an even chance of turning back the Salchek, but Earth!
That’s a social and political nightmare. Now, after the earthquake, it’s really
coming apart and there might be an ice age. How in hell are the three of us
supposed to even approach that cluster fuck? It seems preposterous.”

“There
are other problems that don’t help the situation. The translocation machinery
is about shot. It’s worth your life to use it.”

“If
that’s the case, what’s the point of even talking about Earth?”

Gaereth
held his arms out wide in a gesture of helpless dedication. “We’ve got to try,
Jeff. As a people, we’ve been working to keep things together so long that I
expect it’s in our genes by now. Although most of our technicians have been
killed along the way, we still have a few who are good with bailing wire and
tape.”

“Okay,
let’s stop and back up a few steps.” Jeff took a long drink of spring water to
buy some time. He really needed to collect his thoughts. “It seems to me we’re
putting the cart before the horse. I don’t know about you guys, but right now
my plate is full enough dealing with the Salchek.”

“Here,
here. Carl, what are your ideas concerning Rugen? Maybe we ought to put our
heads together while we have the chance.”

“Yes.
I have to head back in the morning. I really can’t handle thinking about
Seattle and Earth anymore.”

Weeks
disappeared in a blur of strategy meetings and training exercises with Rugen
detachments. A messenger service set up between the Alemanni camp and Rugen
could not keep up with demand. When the Salchek arrived it would be finished.
Their only remaining communication link with Rugen would be Carl. Jeff
considered the problem and consulted with Gaereth.

“In
my opinion, one of us has to be in Rugen. I think that someone has to be you.
Carl is so tied up with responsibilities that he doesn’t have a prayer of
stretching himself any farther.”

“You’re
right. I have to go. Not only is Carl overloaded with work, he’s into medicine
not warfare. You and I understand the Alemanni and agree on how to use them. In
Rugen, I’ll be able to squash plans that might lead to disaster.”

Gaereth
was on his way by the close of the day. The following morning he notified Jeff
that the first elements of the Salchek Army had arrived.

Worming
to the crest of the hill overlooking Rugen, Jeff removed his hat and raised his
head. Tongues of fire licked across crops that were too immature to be
harvested, generating a dense cloud of smoke that hung over the valley. The
sun, a dark orange ball hanging in the east, seemed heavy with malice.

Turning
to the city, he groaned at the sight of people still lined up to get inside.
“There must be a hundred or more, and a lot of them are kids. Wait until the
last bloody minute then bring everything you own plus livestock!”

Jeff
peered south over Rugen but could see no evidence of Salchek or anything else
through the haze. He located Gaereth on the wall near the south gate.

“We’ve
got a bunch of folks lined up at the north gate, Gaereth. The Salchek in sight
yet?”

“In
spades. Can’t see much, though. The smoke’s really thick. May be some bad news.
From the timber I see them dragging along, it looks like they plan to put
together siege engines.”

There
was little breeze to dissipate the smoke and Jeff was no wiser by nightfall. At
least everyone had made it into the city. Instead of returning to the Alemanni
camp, he decided to sleep in the forest. A fresh breeze had blown away most of
the smoke when he returned to the observation post at first light. Jeff drew in
a deep breath.

“Holy
shit there’s a lot of them!”

They
were spread out around Rugen in a vast semicircle from west to east and teemed
like a horde of insects. As he watched, tents that had been salvaged from
Rengeld’s attack were springing up in enclaves. No siege engines were visible,
but Jeff assumed they were being assembled to the south out of his view. Of
more immediate concern, a contingent of soldiers was jogging toward the north
aspect of the city. Jeff estimated a thousand troops or more were heading his
way.

“There
they are!”

Under
the audible lash of whips, ten two-wheeled chariots burst from the cloud of
dust obscuring the main Salchek camp to the south. The lead chariots were in a
dead heat and bounced from side to side as they rushed past the infantry.

“Two-man,
four-horse chariots with blades on the hubs. Doesn’t come much worse than that.
We wouldn’t have a chance out in the open and on foot. They might as well be
tanks.”

 
Evening was drawing on when he and Balko
backed away from the knoll. On the way back to the Alemanni encampment, Cynic
and Balko did not engage in their usual give-and-take mental gymnastics. They
could not recall such a somber state of mind in their brother.

The
charioteers had paraded back and forth a safe distance from the north wall for
some time, all the while blowing bugles and shouting what Jeff concluded had to
be insults. They maneuvered in elaborate chicanes and figures of eight,
sunlight winking from hub blades. It had been a consummate display of skill.
That night he held a war council with Halric and Gurthwin.

“We
must allow the Salchek a short period to become comfortable, to bend all their
attention on Rugen, then we will strike a hard blow. However, we will never
expose our warriors to their sakkas unless by design. The dark hours, stealth
and surprise are our allies. Let us consider what must be done.” Another
possibility came to mind. “Who among the warriors in this camp has sufficient
merit to lead a first attack? If such a one may be found, I will be freed to
accomplish another task of importance.”

Jeff
mentally reviewed the tribal leaders he had met and worked with during the last
few weeks. He could think of only one person who would fill the requirements.
Halric and Gurthwin had been going through a similar process. Halric seemed
especially grave when he broke the silence.

“There
are many mighty warriors among the three thousands of Alemanni in this camp.
Yet we know little of their leadership skills. That we will determine in
battle. Even as you say, the first attack offers great promise that later may
not be recaptured. I would have this honor. Do any here doubt my ability to
lead?”

Jeff
was equally grave in his answer. “Never have I met a warrior I would rather go
into battle with, or a warrior with such skill at leading men. I would have
none other.” Gurthwin simply nodded. Jeff turned back to their plan of attack.

“Halric,
I wish you to gather a force of eight hundred warriors to attack the Salchek
camped near the north gate. When all is in readiness your force must descend as
quietly as wolves, only to spring on the enemy with the coming of dawn. You
must hold then seem to retreat, drawing the enemy into the forest. There,
waiting in concealment, a full thousand warriors will fall on them. If the
force that pursues is too great in number to overcome, you must draw them ever
deeper into the woodlands where they may be finished at your leisure. But you
must not remain exposed long enough to allow Salchek sakkas or cavalry to come
into play.”

“As
you know, Jeffrey, as a people we are not given to retreat,” Halric said,
shaking his head doubtfully.

“And
yet this is what I expect of your leadership, what I understand you to be
capable of. If we fail of this first task, we fail of our promise as Alemanni
and will surely be defeated.”

Halric
held Jeff’s gaze. His expression revealed nothing. Gurthwin was sharply
attentive but had no intention of intervening. Halric must decide on his own.
Yet so much was at stake.

In
an abrupt transition, Halric’s features became animated with fierce
determination. He raised his fist and shook it.