The Gaian army was ready for battle. Six million strong, clad in the
strongest silksteel armour, they waited patiently. Every legion carried
their own standard, and seeing the steel banners raised into the air made
Deirdre's blood sing.
Every banner was black, the symbol for mourning, yet on it had been sewn the Gaian rose, a symbol for the hope that peace could once again reign. Supporting the main bulk of the army, which was mainly infantry, were about three hundred thousand warriors laden with quick-to-assemble artillery pieces.
Her two greatest assets, however, were her aircraft; lying sleek and polished amidst the cleared ruins of the Senate buildings, and her tanks; silent, megalithic monsters standing guard like clumps of iron rock.
Her people had surprised her. Three million men, she had been told, badly equipped, with poor morale. She had received six million men, all well- equipped, and eager for the blood of Santiago and her minions.
It had been necessary to stay longer in New Glasgow than she had intended. Two months longer, to be precise. The other members of the Council had left long ago, readying their own forces for the day when every able-bodied soldier on the planet, not marching under the Spartan sign, would begin to systematically wipe all traces of Colonel Corazon Santiago off Planet.
All members of the Council that is, except Zakharov. The attacks against Sparta Command, Bunker 118 and Freehold Keep would be a joint effort, shared equally between the University and the Gaians.
It seemed to Deirdre that a needless amount of military force was being exerted to eliminate Santiago, but all her generals had assured her that the three bases they were planning to attack were the strongest of all bases within the domain of Sparta.
"My lady, your forces are prepared, shall I give the order?"
General Diehl waited for her answer, which she gave within a few moments:
"Yes, order my army into their shuttles. We fly to Bunker 118."
Diehl bowed, and relayed commands across the comm-links. Like a slow, lethargic machine, the Gaian army, looking more like a field of grass, began to enter their crisp white shuttles.
Soon, Deirdre thought, soon my people will have their vengeance.
"Lady, a fine shuttle, I must say."
Zakharov, leader of the University faction was already waiting in her shuttle. He sat with his back straight in the seats and despite traces of tension across his eyes he looked relaxed.
"It should be. I seem to spend more time flying between Gaia's Landing and here than I spend walking on the ground. And I do not intend to travel uncomfortably."
Zakharov nodded.
"Do you miss Gaia's Landing, my lady?"
Deirdre sighed, before giving a short nod of her head:
"Yes, I miss it every day. Have you been to my city, Provost?"
A small shake of the head.
"No, lady. I have never had the time. I have been told it is more beautiful that New Glasgow is."
"Was," she corrected him shortly. "New Glasgow is now a hopeless ruin." She smiled though. "Seeing Gaia's Landing is what keeps my hope alive. Without the preserves and groves of Gaia's Landing, the whole Gaian faction would serve no purpose. It has taken us years to build that city up from the small collection of huts, to the great, soaring cityscape it is now."
Zakharov smiled. "Yes, I understand. We do tend to grow attached to our first base. University Base in unrivalled amongst my own cities, and quite rightly so. It is only fitting that the site where my faction began should remain the finest memory to our greatness."
Deirdre laughed. "It is not the greatness of my faction that makes Gaia's Landing special Zakharov, nor did it make New Glasgow special. It is the beauty. The beauty of Earth plants and animals existing in the domed preserves is what makes my heart soar. The fact that those plants that cannot survive in the wilds of Planet can exist within my domes, that is the true magnificence of my city. Magnificence, not because it is new, or alien, but because it is familiar, a last testament to Earth, a promise that never shall the Gaians repeat the same mistake of Earth."
Zakharov breathed in. "When this is over, Deirdre, I would like to visit Gaia's Landing. Will you permit it?"
Deirdre chuckled. "Of course I shall."
The shuttle began to shake, and Deirdre sat beside Zakharov. The members of her council, consisting mainly of Senators and generals, entered the shuttle, and sat behind her and Zakharov. An air of pensive silence fell across the room, as the pilot manoeuvred the shuttle up from the airfields, into the pale blue sky.
Glancing at the window, Deirdre noticed the thousands of shuttles that flew around her own. Doves of war, she thought to herself. White birds of graceful beauty, bearing the terror of war within their holds.
A shiver ran down her spine, and Zakharov whispered:
"Take courage, Deirdre. This war is necessary, and does not breach the Peace of Gaia. Remember New Glasgow and its defilation, if you must have strength, but do not lose heart now. We are so close."
Deirdre turned to Zakharov, and breathed in. A nervous feeling had seized her. Was she doing the right thing? Was she destroying everything that her people held dear? Was she-
She silenced the thoughts in an instant. Such doubts could linger, and, like the implanted larvae of the mindworm, resurface, more terrible and infinitely more dangerous.
"Order the aircraft to fly all around us. I don't want our shuttles to be shot down by Spartan aircraft. We have too much to lose."
The Gaian generals hastened to answer her request.
Zakharov said. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, order the same for my shuttles, please. I can't abide war, and I do not wish to involve myself too deeply in this one."
Deirdre faced him. "Provost, if you do not involve yourself in this war, how will you know what is going on?"
Zakharov. "Oh, I shall watch, and conduct the larger schemes, but my generals are all capable, and need no prompting from me to do things right. If you look at it, your generals would be doing what you asked them to anyway."
Deirdre shrugged. "It doesn't harm to make sure."
"Colonel Santiago is on Channel 3, Deirdre. She wishes to speak with you."
Zakharov said. "Deirdre, you can handle this. I fear I may say something undiplomatically to the beasts face."
Deirdre smiled sweetly. "Why thank you, Provost. I shall do my best not to shout at her." She turned to the general in charge of the vid-screen. "Put her on."
An image of Santiago, clad in full silksteel armour appeared. Her upper lip was curled in disgust.
"Lady Deirdre, what a pleasant surprise. Have you managed to rebuild New Glasgow yet?"
Deirdre laughed. "Not yet, fool. I will wait until Sparta Command is rubble beneath my feet for that. You see, my faction is far too busy with this little war you have started to rebuild my city."
Santiago grunted. "I am no fool, Deirdre. You propose to attack the three most highly defended cities on Planet, with what? Pacifists?"
Deirdre paused, putting on an air of thick sarcasm. "Santiago, are these pacifist's the same ones that have annihilated two of your armies?"
A curse of pure rage. "I have no wish to bandy words with you, Deirdre. I came to warn you away. If you are fool enough to attack my territories, then your faction shall be completely and utterly destroyed."
Deirdre threw up her hands in mock hopelessness, and then spat towards the screen. "Shut up, Santiago. Your time is up; I shall enjoy watching you writhe in my punishment sphere. Before you die, you shall regret the day your crossed my faction. Deirdre out."
The vid-screen blanked out to a pure white, and Deirdre leant back. All her emotion had resurfaced. Pain and sadness from the death of Lindly, Marco and her generals; hatred for Santiago; fear and hopelessness.
"Lady, you scare me sometimes. That talk of the sphere, were you toying with her?"
Deirdre glared at him. "I do not joke about pain, Zakharov. She caused every member of my faction pain, and I shall repay it. It is simple vengeance."
He said nothing more after that.
Every banner was black, the symbol for mourning, yet on it had been sewn the Gaian rose, a symbol for the hope that peace could once again reign. Supporting the main bulk of the army, which was mainly infantry, were about three hundred thousand warriors laden with quick-to-assemble artillery pieces.
Her two greatest assets, however, were her aircraft; lying sleek and polished amidst the cleared ruins of the Senate buildings, and her tanks; silent, megalithic monsters standing guard like clumps of iron rock.
Her people had surprised her. Three million men, she had been told, badly equipped, with poor morale. She had received six million men, all well- equipped, and eager for the blood of Santiago and her minions.
It had been necessary to stay longer in New Glasgow than she had intended. Two months longer, to be precise. The other members of the Council had left long ago, readying their own forces for the day when every able-bodied soldier on the planet, not marching under the Spartan sign, would begin to systematically wipe all traces of Colonel Corazon Santiago off Planet.
All members of the Council that is, except Zakharov. The attacks against Sparta Command, Bunker 118 and Freehold Keep would be a joint effort, shared equally between the University and the Gaians.
It seemed to Deirdre that a needless amount of military force was being exerted to eliminate Santiago, but all her generals had assured her that the three bases they were planning to attack were the strongest of all bases within the domain of Sparta.
"My lady, your forces are prepared, shall I give the order?"
General Diehl waited for her answer, which she gave within a few moments:
"Yes, order my army into their shuttles. We fly to Bunker 118."
Diehl bowed, and relayed commands across the comm-links. Like a slow, lethargic machine, the Gaian army, looking more like a field of grass, began to enter their crisp white shuttles.
Soon, Deirdre thought, soon my people will have their vengeance.
"Lady, a fine shuttle, I must say."
Zakharov, leader of the University faction was already waiting in her shuttle. He sat with his back straight in the seats and despite traces of tension across his eyes he looked relaxed.
"It should be. I seem to spend more time flying between Gaia's Landing and here than I spend walking on the ground. And I do not intend to travel uncomfortably."
Zakharov nodded.
"Do you miss Gaia's Landing, my lady?"
Deirdre sighed, before giving a short nod of her head:
"Yes, I miss it every day. Have you been to my city, Provost?"
A small shake of the head.
"No, lady. I have never had the time. I have been told it is more beautiful that New Glasgow is."
"Was," she corrected him shortly. "New Glasgow is now a hopeless ruin." She smiled though. "Seeing Gaia's Landing is what keeps my hope alive. Without the preserves and groves of Gaia's Landing, the whole Gaian faction would serve no purpose. It has taken us years to build that city up from the small collection of huts, to the great, soaring cityscape it is now."
Zakharov smiled. "Yes, I understand. We do tend to grow attached to our first base. University Base in unrivalled amongst my own cities, and quite rightly so. It is only fitting that the site where my faction began should remain the finest memory to our greatness."
Deirdre laughed. "It is not the greatness of my faction that makes Gaia's Landing special Zakharov, nor did it make New Glasgow special. It is the beauty. The beauty of Earth plants and animals existing in the domed preserves is what makes my heart soar. The fact that those plants that cannot survive in the wilds of Planet can exist within my domes, that is the true magnificence of my city. Magnificence, not because it is new, or alien, but because it is familiar, a last testament to Earth, a promise that never shall the Gaians repeat the same mistake of Earth."
Zakharov breathed in. "When this is over, Deirdre, I would like to visit Gaia's Landing. Will you permit it?"
Deirdre chuckled. "Of course I shall."
The shuttle began to shake, and Deirdre sat beside Zakharov. The members of her council, consisting mainly of Senators and generals, entered the shuttle, and sat behind her and Zakharov. An air of pensive silence fell across the room, as the pilot manoeuvred the shuttle up from the airfields, into the pale blue sky.
Glancing at the window, Deirdre noticed the thousands of shuttles that flew around her own. Doves of war, she thought to herself. White birds of graceful beauty, bearing the terror of war within their holds.
A shiver ran down her spine, and Zakharov whispered:
"Take courage, Deirdre. This war is necessary, and does not breach the Peace of Gaia. Remember New Glasgow and its defilation, if you must have strength, but do not lose heart now. We are so close."
Deirdre turned to Zakharov, and breathed in. A nervous feeling had seized her. Was she doing the right thing? Was she destroying everything that her people held dear? Was she-
She silenced the thoughts in an instant. Such doubts could linger, and, like the implanted larvae of the mindworm, resurface, more terrible and infinitely more dangerous.
"Order the aircraft to fly all around us. I don't want our shuttles to be shot down by Spartan aircraft. We have too much to lose."
The Gaian generals hastened to answer her request.
Zakharov said. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, order the same for my shuttles, please. I can't abide war, and I do not wish to involve myself too deeply in this one."
Deirdre faced him. "Provost, if you do not involve yourself in this war, how will you know what is going on?"
Zakharov. "Oh, I shall watch, and conduct the larger schemes, but my generals are all capable, and need no prompting from me to do things right. If you look at it, your generals would be doing what you asked them to anyway."
Deirdre shrugged. "It doesn't harm to make sure."
"Colonel Santiago is on Channel 3, Deirdre. She wishes to speak with you."
Zakharov said. "Deirdre, you can handle this. I fear I may say something undiplomatically to the beasts face."
Deirdre smiled sweetly. "Why thank you, Provost. I shall do my best not to shout at her." She turned to the general in charge of the vid-screen. "Put her on."
An image of Santiago, clad in full silksteel armour appeared. Her upper lip was curled in disgust.
"Lady Deirdre, what a pleasant surprise. Have you managed to rebuild New Glasgow yet?"
Deirdre laughed. "Not yet, fool. I will wait until Sparta Command is rubble beneath my feet for that. You see, my faction is far too busy with this little war you have started to rebuild my city."
Santiago grunted. "I am no fool, Deirdre. You propose to attack the three most highly defended cities on Planet, with what? Pacifists?"
Deirdre paused, putting on an air of thick sarcasm. "Santiago, are these pacifist's the same ones that have annihilated two of your armies?"
A curse of pure rage. "I have no wish to bandy words with you, Deirdre. I came to warn you away. If you are fool enough to attack my territories, then your faction shall be completely and utterly destroyed."
Deirdre threw up her hands in mock hopelessness, and then spat towards the screen. "Shut up, Santiago. Your time is up; I shall enjoy watching you writhe in my punishment sphere. Before you die, you shall regret the day your crossed my faction. Deirdre out."
The vid-screen blanked out to a pure white, and Deirdre leant back. All her emotion had resurfaced. Pain and sadness from the death of Lindly, Marco and her generals; hatred for Santiago; fear and hopelessness.
"Lady, you scare me sometimes. That talk of the sphere, were you toying with her?"
Deirdre glared at him. "I do not joke about pain, Zakharov. She caused every member of my faction pain, and I shall repay it. It is simple vengeance."
He said nothing more after that.
