Archive for December, 2006
Chapter 5
December 18
“Lightning be damned! It’s just God showing us where to stick our swords!” Silas yelled at the top of his lungs, the men around him scrambling to find swords, guns, clothes, anything in the strobing darkness and half-sleep. A few fires were still burning in the stinging rain, more smoke and steam than light, now. In their stuttering glow, Silas could see men running, holding up their pants as they galloped to the metal footlockers that held spare swords. Belt buckles flashed yellow as they were threaded through loops. Silas smiled in the chaos. This would make things easier.
A break in the thunder brought a second rumble to his ears, this one man-made. He knew, from forward scouts, that Republic soldiers were approaching. That, of course, was why the camp was in so roiling with activity. Where was Jonas? Surely someone woke him.
“Sir?” A younger man stood in front of Silas, hair and uniform disheveled. Silas looked him up and down. At least he got his boots on, he thought. I don’t know if I would have remembered to do that myself at his age. Silas let the man stand there a few moments longer, let him get a bit more nervous about the approaching force.
“Yeah, what?” Silas’ voice was always gruff — a few kicks in the throat’ll do that to a man — but he tried to make it growl even more. Fear was good for the grunts; keep ‘em on their toes and they’ll work twice as hard to keep you happy. “If you’re just comin’ to tell me ’bout the Light lilies tiptoeing toward us, keep your breath in ya.” The soldier nodded and stepped back a pace, about to salute.
“So… what’re we going to do, then, sir?” His voice shook still, probably more now, with the uncertainty brought on by Silas’ seeming lack of concern. His eyes were wider now, at any rate. His hand hung in the air where it had stopped, halfway to his forehead, floating in front of his throat.
“Put your hand down, son,” Silas said, not trying to be any more gruff now than normal. He glanced around again at the chaos. He locked eyes with a soldier across one of the fussing fires, one of the spies that had brought the news. The man touched his ear, pressing one of the few electronic ears they had been able to bring with them further into his ear, to hear over the din of the camp. Silas saw his Adam’s apple bobble up and down and tried to read the man’s lips, but couldn’t. He ignored the young soldier next to him for a few more seconds until the spy shook his head, then he turned back to the recruit. “We’re not doing anything yet. We’ll wait ’til the bastards make their way here, let ‘em get right here in the middle o’ the nest. Then we’ll swarm ‘em and show ‘em how to get to Heaven the fast way.” The soldier swallowed and nodded. This’ll be his first kill tonight, Silas thought. “Stick around me,” he ordered. The boy nodded again, still unable to speak.
Silas stomped through mud puddles toward one of the few remaining bonfires. The rain, as broken up as it was by the trees overhead, had put out most of the smaller fires. Several soldiers stood next to the spitting, hissing, blazing pile of wood, trying to dry their hands before the fight. They were all veterans, troops that had been with him and Jonas since Kansas City, a couple even before that. The young soldier, his nametag read “Blum” but that was just as likely wrong as it was right since uniforms were recycled so often, stomped his feet next to Silas, sticking close, like he was told. It wasn’t cold tonight, but the rain and anticipation made it seem ten degrees cooler than it really was; maybe twenty for a rookie like him. Silas tapped the soldier with the earpiece on the shoulder. Cypher turned around and smiled a tight smile at him.
“What’s the word, Cy? How long do we have ’til they come for redemption?” Silas kept his voice low, but he was sure the surrounding soldiers were straining to listen anyway.
“Twenty minutes, the Light on our side. Ten, on theirs.” Cypher was one of the few in camp that firmly bought into the idea of salvation in the Light. Probably comes from all that fancy lighting in his head, Silas thought. Technology from the past, and future, wasn’t much liked in the Legion, but it was necessary to fight on an even keel. “They’re not coming from the City,” Cypher continued.
“Then what the Devils are they doing out here on a night like this?”
“You can ask ‘em soon, Silas. Seems we really are the Darkness tonight. They’ve already hit the fence.” Cypher’s voice dropped even more for this last bit. He disliked fighting, which was probably why he was so good with electronics and scouting. Find the enemy, then let someone else fight them. Silas thought of him as a coward for it.
“No use whispering it, jelly.” He raised his voice, “Alright, boys, girls, and anything else that’s listening. The slugs are almost here, so get your asses up out of the mud. God do be with us, these that do be against us, fuck ‘em!” A cheer came up, weaker than he’d have liked, but the rain set men’s spirits to the ground. Silas grabbed his mini gatling gun from just inside the door of his nearby tent and held it in the air. Fists flew into the air all around him, some holding Lightspawned guns, some swords, and some the mechanical pistols and carbines of the Legion.
The nervous young soldier waved his sword in the air and let out a whoop that shook just slightly. Silas looked at him and smiled. He would meet death tonight; God grant he was dealing it. This would be a fight like no other.