The Is-kaldai then approached Irriessa’s unmoving form and drew out the long blade. Blatant fear passed across the Human’s face as he approached, but then was replaced by shock as Keertra skidded the surias across the table towards him. Out of sheer self-protection, the Human had to grab the blade, which, of course, was exactly what Keertra wanted him to do.
As Keertra then drew his own surias, however, he was surprised by the Human’s next reaction. After a brief moment of shock and bewilderment, the Human actually seemed to balance Irriessa’s blade in his small hand, weighing it as if he knew how to use it.
How outrageous, Keertra thought, and charged.
The sudden throw came unexpectedly.
* * *
There was no crater in the middle of the complex, but whatever devastated all of the buildings certainly detonated there. A large circle of black carbon and glass marked where the intense blast had erupted. The Telville Oceanographic Institute would be out of commission for several seasons while they rebuilt. It was one of the last parting shots the aliens . . . the Kezdai, Toman corrected . . . had made before they were finally crushed.
Several of the alien soldiers were captured in the last battle. Many killed themselves before the medics realized that they could consciously cut off the blood flow through their hoods by flexing the muscles within. A quick dose of muscle relaxant managed to keep a few of them alive, and provided the Delassians with some information, such as what the aliens called themselves.
While the top floor of the institute’s main building was virtually blown off, the remaining structure was basically intact. It was here that personal belongings were being gathered from the wreckage and surrounding countryside. Serina owned many reference books that she kept here, but these Colonel Ishida donated back to the institute. All that Toman took with him was a box containing the personal items that she had kept at work. A picture of him and her mother, along with a couple pictures of Kaethan and several stuffed animals filled most of the box, though scorch marks blackened a few of the animals.
It was an unyielding drive that pulled him downstairs, to where his daughter had died, though the colonel found the urge inexplicable. With the elevator down to the pool not working, the colonel instead used the stairway. Toman mentally shielded himself by taking on the attitude of an investigator analyzing a crime scene, though when he arrived at the tiled pool, all had been long cleaned and scrubbed. The only evidence of the fight that remained were the shattered tiles that lined the floor and walls that the hypersonic needles had blasted. Also there was a tiled section of wall near the pool that seemed to have suffered an impact of something large.
A soft exhale of air marked the entry into the pool of Kuro, coming in from the sea. Although the complex generator had been destroyed in the attack, portable generators were scattered throughout the buildings, including one that now powered the speakers that Kuro spoke out of.
“Hello, Colonel.” Kuro said as she spotted him at the pool edge.
Unsure whether the overhead pool microphones were working, Toman wandered to the poolside table and picked up the transmitter there.
“Hello, Kuro. How are you?”
Toman sat down, wishing that he had a cool drink like he had the time he visited before. He knew few details of the fight that took place down here. All that he was told was that a Kezdai scout had infiltrated the complex and killed his daughter before Kuro killed him.
“Very sad,” Kuro mourned. “I miss Serina.”
“I do too, Kuro.” The orca’s sentiment choked him up slightly.
“Is Kaethan here?”
“No, he was hurt very badly in the fighting. He’s still in a hospital, now.”
“Will he live?”
“Yes. I’ll be taking him back to Angelrath soon, though. They can care for him better there.”
“Tell him to see me when he gets back.”
“I will.”
The colonel smiled for the first time since he had heard that Serina had been killed. Kuro’s concern touched him deeply.
“Is Peter okay?” Toman remembered Serina’s co-worker, the one that Kuro would play rough with.
“Peter is okay, but he will be very busy for a long time. No time to play with me.”
“What will you do while they reconstruct the institute?”
“I’m not sure. Perhaps I will join the Coast Guard. Perhaps Delas would like me guarding their coasts.”
Colonel Ishida laughed, not so much at the idea as at her phrasing.
“You would help us fight if the Kezdai came back?” the colonel asked.
“Of course,” Kuro answered flatly. “Earthlings must stick together.”
Colonel Ishida remained smiling as he reconstructed some paradigms that he had formed regarding orcas. The thought of his species finally finding an ally was pleasing to Toman. But perhaps they always had one, but never bothered to ask.
“You are right, Kuro,” he said. “We should stick together.”
NEWS EXCERPT. 33 Early Summer, 104:3381. Brigadier General Toman Ishida of the Line, commander of the Bolos that defended Delas against the Kezdai invasion, today announced his retirement from the Dinochrome Brigade. After fifty-five years of service, twenty-seven of which in command of the 39th Terran Lancers, the recently promoted general declared that he planned to remain on Angelrath to spend more time with his son, who is recovering from serious injuries suffered in the fighting on Delas. The two Bolos of the 39th will remain on Delas until they are rotated out of the sector early next year. They are scheduled for an unspecified refit . . .
In other news, Rear Admiral Josef Santi, Naval Sector Commander at Angelrath, announced today that the Concordiat has denied his request for an offensive to be mounted against the Kezdai, stating lack of resources. In response, Admiral Santi has requested strong reinforcements be sent to the sector when the 39th is rotated out. Asked whether he expected further incursions, Santi only mentioned the obvious dangers in allowing an attacker to escape without punishment.
* * *
The Kezdai council chamber was a bright and spacious auditorium, built with large blocks of blue-veined white stone over five centuries before. Redesigns and armed rebellions had altered its appearance over the years. Only the foundation remained of the original stone blocks that once rose up in flying buttresses fifty meters high. The building design was far simpler now, but still impressive. Open gas-lit flames burned eternally from cauldrons mounted in the stone uprights, placed more for effect than for their lighting. Large wooden beams, highly prized on a desert world such as this, supported the tall ceiling and braced the uprights, giving the room an anachronistic aura.
Pendants and flags hung from poles and rafters, declaring which of the forty-seven ruling clans claimed what section of seats.
And all the seats were filled this night with warriors thirsty for blood, and thousands more crowded the view screens outside. Great plans were being laid while age-old enemies were forgotten. The Mor-verridai himself spoke before the gathered Is-kaldai, rising from his dwindling existence with a passion never before seen. He delivered to them a stirring proclamation of war as one would throw raw meat to a pack of ravenous Ethretsau.
Brooding alone in his place of prominence was Is-kaldai Khoriss, seated in his crimson robe, its left sleeve falling empty of the arm that should have been there. As one eye stared, unblinking, at the spectacle before him, only an iron plate was strapped over the place where his left eye should have been. His look was menacing, and the Mor-verridai avoided his eye even when declaring his brother Keertra hero and martyr.
To which Khoriss almost laughed.
Even now the new Is-kaldai was reconsidering his choice not to follow through with his brother’s plans. A deep bitterness had lodged in his soul, born from his wounds, and the deaths of so many, so needlessly wrought. A craving for vengeance, too, was there, burning as brightly for the Humans as for all those around him who sent him down to that planet unsupported. If Keertra could see him now, Khoriss mused, he’d be pleased.
But Keertra was gone, his body burned this morning and his ashes thrown to the wind. Khoriss had no final words to say, remaining as quiet as he was when the guards woke him onboard their flagship to tell him of his brother’s fate. The sight of Keertra, lying on the bloody deck with Irriessa’s surias through his left eye had been stunning enough without the addition of Irriessa’s lifeless corpse nearby, and the pistol-blasted body of the small human outside that supposedly killed them both and then tried to escape. Such was the official story that few could believe, but its alternatives were too divisive to portray to the Council. Tonight great plans would be laid, and nothing could be allowed to divert them from their path.