But Nukurren had refused to acknowledge the salute. Had returned the admiration with bleak isolation. Had spoken to none. Had not taken a place in the column, neither with human nor gukuy. Throughout the long march which followed, she had remained to one side, parallel but alone.
As the march progressed, the Pilgrims lagged further and further behind, unable to match the speed of the human warriors. Of all the gukuy marching to battle, only Nukurren had been able to keep pace. But, always, she marched to the side. What role, if any, she intended to play in the coming battle, no one knew.
She least of all, thought Indira now, watching Nukurren standing alone on the slope.
Indira tore her eyes away, and looked back at Joseph. Stretching on either side of him were the remnants of Andrew MacPherson’s platoon. Most of the warriors in Andrew’s former platoon had been reassigned to the other two. But a small number had been organized into a new formation, led by Jens Knudsen. They were to serve as Joseph’s reserve, for the critical moment of the battle.
Gazing down at Jens’ new formation, Indira began to feel the old, paralyzing anguish. She fought it desperately. It had been she herself, after all, who had commanded its creation.
The warriors in the new formation were more heavily armored than the other humans. They carried no javelins, only the largest assegai. Theirs was not the role of Ludmilla and Takashi’s platoons, the fluid ravaging of the opponent. Theirs was the role of shock troops. It was they who would be thrown into the schwerpunkt. Not for them the rapid maneuvers of the platoons; not for them, the tactical subtleties; for them—the shattering smash of the hoplite.
They had been selected, as individuals, for that purpose. The emphasis had been on sheer strength, rather than speed. Upper body strength, in particular. Only that kind of strength could sustain a warrior in the savage close-quarter combat for which that formation was designed.
They were all male. For the first time in the history of the human colony, the sexes had been segregated. Indira herself had commanded it. She had hated the truth, but would not shy from it. Only Ludmilla, among the human women, had the strength to serve in Jens’ new formation. And Ludmilla was needed as a platoon commander.
She gazed down at Jens Knudsen. Even covered with heavy armor, his golden hair and milk-white skin was easy to spot. Indira thought that of the younger generation of humans, Jens’ was perhaps the gentlest and kindest spirit, for all his brutish size and musculature. Indira herself had named the new formation the “shock squad.” Jens, with his usual self-deprecating humor, had called his squad the “meatheads.”
“Too slow to run, and too dumb to figure out anything else,” he had joked. But Indira could not mistake the pride in his stance, and that of his new squad, as they stood by Joseph’s side.
Alexander’s Companions.
They would suffer the highest casualties, and they knew it. But they were not afraid, because a new emotion was insinuating its way into their souls, like a serpent.
For the first time in the history of the human colony, an elite had been created. At Indira’s own command. She began to look away, then forced herself to look back.
Not now, no. Not with Jens, never. But—Jens will die, and his children, and their children, and their children—and then, someday … the Diadochi. And the Praetorian Guard, and the Janissaries, and the knights who savaged Jerusalem.
Nightmare visions flashed through her mind, ending with the Waffen SS. She felt her face grow stiff.
Julius gazed at her quizzically. Indira pointed to Jens.
“I was just thinking how the old Waffen SS would have drooled over him.” A rueful grimace; trying to cast off despair with humor. “He could have served as the model for their recruitment posters.”
Julius looked down.
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s much too ugly, with that great beak of a nose, and besides—” He looked back at Indira, his expression oddly cold. “Did I ever tell you my family’s history?”
“Not really.”
He shrugged. “Nothing spectacular. And most of it’s long forgotten. But there’s one episode, from two centuries ago, that was passed on from generation to generation. My family was in Denmark during the Second World War. They lived in Copenhagen, as a matter of fact, the same city where Jens was born.”