Aurora’s Tale

By Tarot Barnes

With edits and advice by J.H. and Brantley

Part Three

Chapter 9

The plains, two hundred kilometers behind Séuchão Estak

Three and a half hours before launch.

Aurora waited behind a cloud while a hundred and fifty kilometers away, between her and Séuchão Estak, Arion Landwarriors leisurely made their way towards the spaceport

She still wasn’t sure about that. She’d almost convinced herself that their slow speed was an attempt to try and avoid detection, but something still nagged at her. Too many things didn’t add up and uncertainties were lethal, which was a shame since they were always so prevalent.

But there was nothing she could do about it, short of flying down and asking the Arions themselves.

She rethought that and allowed herself to grin. Well… in a manner of speaking she was about to ask them what they were doing.

The Arions weren’t aware of her. Of that much she was sure. Though her body absorbed energy, enough was reflected to give an opaque silhouette on radar. Nonetheless, there was only so much space on a Landwarrior and the Arions had dedicated most of what there was to fighting the enemies they could defeat. What little equipment they had for detecting Protectors was limited to a hundred kilometers or so and naturally their attention would be focused on the port, not a patch of sky behind them.

In any case, she could literally see their state of awareness. If they even suspected she was around the power intensive active camouflage would go down and their shields would go up. The Arion military had long since learned that a Protector’s eyesight was too good to try and fool.

A little beyond them, bunkered hull down at the tops of hills and slight elevations, hidden in copses and behind hedges, Otávio’s force bided its time. They had their affected their own primitive camouflage by planting small trees and shrubs to their hulls.

Personally, Aurora thought the foliage made them blend with the background better than their Arion counterparts, but she was biased. The Arion vehicles were almost invisible while moving whereas the Porturegans’ ’Warriors were only stealthy when still.

Timing was everything. If she struck too soon, the Arions would split and outflank the Porturegans. If she struck too late, she’d deny Otávio his opportunity.

Deep within the recesses of her mind, calculations rattled, balancing probabilities and equating in a single decreasing, number.

Now!

Aurora dove into action. Flinging her arms out before her, she dropped a couple thousand meters and ignoring the g forces, accelerated hard.

The Arions didn’t react until she was only 60 kilometers away and she cursed herself for her speed; first one, then two, a dozen and finally all of the ‘warriors dropped their camouflage and flashed momentarily silver as their shields raised.

Even as they tried to defend themselves, their cannons were traversing and the trucks and APC’s were screaming to get out of her way. Not one of the main guns was even halfway round before she’d ripped through the first ‘warrior.

Aurora’s decision to attack from the rear was a double blind. Not only would it stop the Arions form firing on her – feeble as their shells were – but more importantly it meant that they would be looking in entirely the wrong direction when Otávio attacked.

For now she ignored the lesser fighting vehicles as non-combatants. The Arion infantry was fearsome but, in this arena at least, they were far less of a threat than their armour.

Swerving around while in the middle of the column, she extended her arms and virtual cut a warrior in half before rising briefly to get a view of the column. She swung and dropped low again, almost scraping the short dry grass on the plains then reversing herself hard, long legs scything through root and soil to stop herself directly beneath an Arion ‘warrior.

Almost without resistance her diamantine fingers penetrated its shield bubble and buried themselves in the hardened armour. Half buried in the ground she flew up, hefting the multi-ton tank into the air before hurling it back down again.

Her aim was perfect. The ‘warrior crashed down on top of another, instantly killing its crew. The second ‘warrior careened sideways, shields flashing into non-existence even as it slammed into a third with enough force to crush its side.

Aurora didn’t stay to watch the carnage, she was already moving on a forth ‘warrior. This time she didn’t stop to lift it, but simply went straight through its rear plate. Her extended hands missed the ammunition store by inches so there was no explosion, only the clang of hatches and screams of wounded crew bailed out of their crippled vehicle.

In the time it took for the first of their feet to hit the ground, Aurora had destroyed three more of their brethren in the same way and was lifting a fourth to hurl at a fifth.

By now the Arion formation was in complete disarray as the Arions’ Comandantes came to terms with what they were facing and their training took over.

Those ’Warriors closest to Aurora whirred around sharply, hoping to catch her in a crossfire while the rest broke away Even as the cannons roared those who stayed knew it was suicide, but spent their lives in the hope that the rest of their company would live.

It was a vain hope. Those who ran fled straight into Otávio. Arion warriors seemed to turn silver as their shields suddenly absorbed the massive might of the Porturegan broadside.

Already panicked, and now startled by this new threat, the Arions broke discipline and began firing wildly. Cannon shells split trees, smashed ground and even exploded in the sky as the mad gunners tried in vain to slaughter whatever was hurting them.

One of their ’Warriors suddenly blew up, its turret rocketing skywards as its shields were struck in rapid succession by two double broadsides and then a third that penetrated its side, slaughtered the crew and ignited the ammunition.

It was an attack the Porturegan machines were uniquely adapted for. They resembled low-slung beetles, with a smooth sloped hull that extended over their tracks. Whereas most other planets fielded a single massive cannon, the Porturegan warriors had two or more medium guns. The limited their penetrating power but they could fire twice as fast as any ‘warrior of similar size and, uniquely, allowed them to fire in two directions at once.

Another Arion ‘warrior brewed up like the first and another careened into the ground, its engines destroyed, before the invaders found the Porturegans. Otávio would have been proud of the record had his not been amongst the first Porturegan ‘warriors to explode in the ensuing firestorm.

The Porturegan force fields surprised the Arions as a volley that should have laid waste to half the attacking force merely caused it to jerk backwards Then a sharp eyed Comandante saw the unusual ‘poles’ sticking out of the front of each Porturegan vehicle and recognized the light sparking as a damaged force field shutting down.

After that the Arions knew what to do. They hadn’t expected the force fields, but they were well trained and staggered their fire so the first volley would cripple the Porturegan shields and the second would tear through what remained to obliterate the vehicle.

Then their attention was distracted yet again as Aurora, finished with the force that had attempted to delay her, ripped the rear most ’Warrior apart with her bare hands and used the shattered hull to cripple two more. Rapidly shifting their targets yet again, only one ’Warrior was able to train its cannon on her, and by then its crew was a thin veneer coating the inside of their vehicle.

Yet even as the Imperial force was consumed from the rear, the Porturegans were smashing it from the front. Realizing that he was caught in an impossible position, the senior Comandante ordered an advance, hoping to break into open country where he’d be free of at least one of their persecutors.

His prayer went unanswered, as most of the Porturegans had already fallen back to their secondary positions and used them to stage another ambush. Six more Arion ’Warriors fell before the Arions could form to volley fire and by then, having learned the limits of their new armor the hard way, the Porturegans were already scurrying out of sight.

Aurora had not given up pursuit and more Arions died as the terrified Comandantes gave contradictory orders, ran, fired randomly and barely avoided killing each other in their confusion.

By the time they reached the Porturegans’ third defensive line, more than two thirds of the Arions had been slaughtered and their offensive push and turned into a rout. It was more than the Virago could have prayed for; the Porturegans had given her just enough of an edge to let her kill the rest of the ’Warriors before they reached Séuchão Estak.

Aurora gave the Arions a short break while she used her new toy to consult with the surviving Porturegans.

“Good work, but I can finish up here. You go after the infantry…” She flew higher and used her tachyon vision to find the infantry in the middle of the thick forest they’d retreated into. “They are…about three kilometers north west and east of your position. You will find most of the northwestern pocket heading along a medium sized road through the forest… shortly to arrive at a river, which should make an excellent ambush point. Oh, and watch the personnel carriers; they have caches of anti-armor missiles.” They already knew that of course, but she thought it best to ensure it was at the top of their minds. “The eastern pocket is more dispersed, but if you align yourselves along the north of the river and you should rack up a good tally.” She looked at the battlefield and the smoking columns, each a gravestone. “…How many of you are left.”

“Eight,” The response was oddly cheerful. “In pretty good condition.”

“Eight?” Aurora didn’t let her revulsion show; Eight out of thirty two? Out loud she said, “That’s four for each pocket then.”

As the ’Warriors assembled themselves into two squadrons and headed towards their new targets, the rearmost on the eastward-headed column blew apart. Aurora was already moving but it was too late to do anything for the crew. It had just been their misfortune that a dip in the landscape revealed a sliver of hull, which was all an Arion gunner needed.

The Arion could only have had only an instant, but it was a good hit, directly between the fuel tanks and the ammunition store; the crew wouldn’t have felt a thing.

Unable to help, the other ’Warriors moved out and Aurora, her blood heated even more by the unnecessary deaths, moved in on the remaining Arions.

* * *

Two hours later, the last ’Warrior scrabbled into a blind gully and, realizing its mistake, tried to reverse course without sufficiently reducing speed. All it achieved was to turn itself halfway around before crunching into the soft gully wall.

By sheer chance this brought the barrel directly into line with the triangle of flesh on the approaching Virago’s chest. The Arion gunner saw his only opportunity and depressed the trigger.

His gun coughed and the shell exploded, hot fragments lodging in Aurora’s exposed cleavage; but she didn’t even change her stride.

The gunner tried again, this time aiming for her head but it was too late. In the space between eye blinks she had gone from a leisurely stroll to a pounce. The Imperial systems couldn’t hope to keep up with her and even as they strained to raise the cannon, she was descending at mach 2.

The Landwarrior’s shields had been long depleted by its reckless course across uneven ground, so there was nothing to offer resistance as Aurora came through the roof. Metal crumpled easily beneath her shoulder, tearing almost effortlessly as the ceramic shell shattered like salt crystals. Compared to the galvanized armour of a warship, the ’Warrior offered no more resistance than the air around it, yet as fast as her plunge was, Aurora was able to bring herself to a complete halt before she hit the ground.

Extracting herself from the remains, she flew high and attempted to recommence radio contact with the surviving Porturegans. To her delight, the little gizmo in her throat was everything Josué had promised

To her indescribable relief, a voice answered her call.

“We are here, Fair Child,” it said, “…some of us anyway.”

Aurora flew above the valley’s walls and, seeing the very tip of Séuchão Estak’s tallest building rise, knew there wasn’t much time. “How goes the hunt?” she asked almost reluctantly, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“We got a lot of them,” the voice answered reluctantly, “but… there were just too many.”

“How many of you are left?”

“Two.” The voice was deadly solemn.

“Two!” Aurora exploded. She had to force herself to stop and regain control; even the infantry version of the GAR was to be feared. Even with their new shields, it was amazing any of the brave crews had escaped the forest. “…Okay, unless you see something that is incredibly tempting, I am going to suggest that you retreat to Séuchão Estak and make your final preparations there. I will do what I can with the infantry.”

There was a pause as the Comandante debated the wisdom of her suggestion, then an affirmative. “Understood, Fair Child. I would like to say you are wrong, but with just two of us in close country…” he tailed off-- “we will do more good on the spaceport’s field.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Oh, and don’t waste your strength on those trucks; they are carrying non-combatants.”

“Non-combatants?” Aurora’s memory flashed up images of the armourless Betans and suddenly, things felt as if they were on the verge of falling into place. “How?”

“We could not get close enough to be certain but the equipment they were carrying looked technical. Computers, scanners, things like that. Not a gun amongst them as far as we could see.”

“And the personnel carriers?”

“Oh those carry soldiers alright. Many, many Betans in armor…” he hesitated and Aurora sensed a ‘but.’

“But,” she supplied.

“But their weapons were not right.”

Aurora groaned as things did indeed slip into place, “Let me guess; GAR 182’s and similar, all very heavy?”

“How did you know?”

“It fits the pattern.” Aurora swore in Velorian, the first time she’d used her language in months. “They were not coming here to attack Séuchão Estak, Comandante; they were coming to defend it!”

She heard the man scratch his head. “I do not understand.”

“All of this,” Aurora waved her hand,s although it was impossible that he could have seen her. “The attack and their unusual dependency on heavy arms? None of it made sense; their equipment favors a defensive fight, not something they would use it if they expected to have to take Séuchão Estak from us. They didn’t know we were here!”

“But why do they want the port?”

Aurora recalled her earlier conversation with Otávio, “Because they want to use the vacuum port for themselves once their fleet breaks through. It was just bad timing that they attacked when we were going to launch.” She swore again, louder and more vehemently than before. “Skietra, I am such a fool! This changes everything.”

“How?” Despite his experiences, the Comandante’s voice betrayed a touch of eagerness.

“Nothing that you can do for now, I'm afraid. Return to the port as we agreed and prepare yourselves for an assault. And make sure Colonel Leandro knows what is happening; above everything else, he has to know they were expecting to fight a defensive battle, not lead an assault. He will know what to do.”

“If you say so,” The Comandante sounder uncertain but would do as instructed. “Good luck, Fair Child. Unit out.”

There was a slight crackle as he cleared the line and her hearing was one hundred percent again. Aurora wondered how that could be; the technology behind her implants wasn’t Porturegan, it’d been adapted from the Arions who, it seemed, had no idea it could be put to this use. But to wear something that was truly undetectable was unnerving; her senses were some of the most acute in the galaxy, but when the implants were inactive, they were undetectable. It was odd to say the least, but she supposed humans survived with undetectable prosthetics -- General Inácio had implants throughout most of his body and had no complaints except an aversion to mirrors -- and so could she.

She sighed and went hunting.

Séuchão Estak.

Fifty five minutes before launch.

Aurora flew between the soaring grey towers of Séuchão Estak, watching the troops settle into their final positions. Far below her the Landwarriors had been sequestered inside a couple of submerged sheds with excellent fields of fire where the Arions would advance.

That assumed the Arions were still coming. They weren’t prepared for an assault, hadn’t been briefed on what to expect and had seen most of their armor ripped apart by a single woman. Running scared and off mission, there was no telling what the Arions would do.

At least that is what her protectorates though. Aurora knew exactly what the Arions would do: they would do what Arions always did -- they would attack. It was in their mentality; when hurt, to hit back harder.

Besides, after Protectors, Arions were the finest soldiers in the galaxy. Having to attack something they’d expected to defend mid-mission with vastly depleted resources and against an invincible foe was nothing out of the ordinary for them.

Also, the fact that she’d just spent the last two hours surrendering ground to the infantry was a pretty good indication that they fully intended to take Séuchão Estak, armor or no armor.

The question was whether they would be able to hold it for the next fifty minutes, which was why she’d darted back to the port to assess the troops. They hadn’t significantly changed their disposition since she’d last seen them and the addition of two ’Warriors had obviously increased morale. Aurora had worried about their condition, but if anything the cracked, burned and pitted armour only seemed to inspire the defenders.

Finally, when she had assured herself that the vacuum port was as well protected as it possibly could be, she allowed herself the luxury of visiting the launch site.

The Lance had fully emerged from its silo and its tall form seemed to be resting, like an athlete before a marathon, while it was carried on its pad along the launch rail. As tall as the ship was, it was still hidden by the valley’s slope. Yet the Arions would know it was there; in addition to vehicle launched UAV’s, the infantry had their own drones which would have announced the pristine vehicle’s existence to them.

Aurora took pleasure in imagining that a lot of Arions who, until now had only had to worry about the unexpected resistance, now had to wonder why the Porturegans were busying around the tall spire. Their fear warmed Aurora’s heart and allowed her to fly a little closer.

The Lance was enormous; even without its new engines it was easily as big as the old rockets that had propelled its predecessors into space. At the moment it resembled those old rockets as its delicate surfaces were wrapped in several layers of disposable heat and friction shielding. Underneath its shields however, The Lance gleamed. Although it was a basic tube necessary to facilitate its entry into space, its skin glistened as if oiled and was as graceful as something grown instead of built. The tiny flowing lines etched into its hull reinforced this image, as did the protrusions and intrusions placed seemingly at random along its hull, all with a purpose and all overshadowed by the solar sails which, while inactive, wrapped around The Lance like a chrysalis, but when spread, were as beautiful and delicate as a butterfly’s wings.

Out in space, its natural environment, The Lance was more a work of art than a working science vessel. Its beauty had been part of what made it stand out when she’d first laid eyes upon it all those years ago.

Well… that and, although she would never say it to Beni’s face, the fact that it looked a little primitive to her eyes.

Concern crossed Aurora’s face as she remembered that Beni was inside The Lance, strapped down so tight he could barely twitch a finger, and so very vulnerable.

The Porturegans had not entirely rejected fuel boosters yet; without antigrav the huge rockets were the only way to get things into space. Although design evolution had markedly increased safety, reliability and cost, The Lance was still strapped to what was effectively a huge pillar of fuel. All it required was a spark, something an Arion GAR would be happy to provide.

And given the range of the average GAR, the Arions would barely need to set foot on Séuchão Estak to provide that spark. The Lance’s sole defense was its size; before Séuchão Estak’s huge towers, the ship might be simply too big for the Arions to recognize as a target.

It was a small hope, but one that she clung to, because there was absolutely nothing else she could do to protect her lover.

Her sharp eyes spotted dark shapes rising on the valley’s rise and knew the grace period was over. The Arions had arrived and she had thirty eight minutes to stop them from crossing a thousand meters. Two thousand if she included the distance to the Lance’s rail.

Aurora smiled resolutely. There couldn’t be more than a battalion of them; it shouldn’t be hard.

She dove. Half a second later the first HGAR split the sky and the battle for Séuchão Estak had begun.

* * *

There was a whoosh and an RPG shot past Aurora, impacting somewhere in the Betans' lines. She couldn’t tell if it did any damage or not but the Arions seemed not to notice. The Imperial military was built around its infantry, and the infantry was built around the Charge.

It deserved the emphasis.

Arions didn’t like defending. They could defend, and like most things to do with war, they did it very well. But they were predatory by nature and predators prefer to attack. Thus had been born the Charge.

Most armies learned the fallacy of human wave attacks around the time they discovered automatic firearms, but the Arions had never run into that evolutionary conundrum because for thousands of years their enemies wielded weapons that were no threat to them. Even in the early days before advanced armor, thousands of Betans had fearlessly waded through bullets, shells and round shot. Their success only improved with their as armor got better, and lighter, and the Arion military began to resemble a dark version of something out of the ancient crusades on Earth.

Without revolution, evolution took place and the Arion military adapted itself to its unrivalled dominance in the physical realm. The key to its success was simplicity. The Charge was just that; hundreds or thousands of infantry lined up and then unleashed like a wave that could wash away resistance like the tide.

Modulated by a few rules, Arion physical perfection and intensive training, the Empire had found that the Charge was a solution to anything, even against enemies with weapons that could puncture Betan armour.

All of this passed through Aurora’s mind as she piled into the Betans. Dozens died around her, either splashed across her body or thrown into the air to fall on their friends. But the Charge had a solution even for Viragos and that was simple dispersion.

Aurora, even with her eyes, couldn’t “see” Arions before her. She saw a wave that her higher brain knew was composed of Arions, but she couldn’t see them as individuals. She could temporarily speed up her reflexes so she could see individuals, but that made her head hurt after a while and there were always more Arions. Better to dive blind and try again and again than try to pick out individuals in a swarm.

Besides, she really didn’t like seeing the people she was killing. Betans were frighteningly close to humans in their fragility.

The Charge wasn’t in play yet. Aurora could see it forming along the valley’s edge but it wasn’t ready. Small sorties as groups spilled down the hill were simple probes, preludes to the main attack that would gather information with the same coordination of a wolf pack circling for the kill.

Aurora had one chance. To its annoyance the Hall, even after three thousand years, had yet to discover a truly effective counter to the Charge. It had discovered that if a Charge could be caught before, or in the midst of forming then it would be broken

Though both sides were out of effective GAR range, her protectorates were already doing a fair job of splitting the enemy. But Arions were trained to assemble the Charge under fire. The golden death streaking up from aeneucrete spires was nothing they weren’t prepared for.

For that matter, neither was she; but that didn’t stop Aurora killing them in droves. Arions were only the second-finest warriors in the galaxy and unlike them she was fighting for something; her protectorate, and her love.

She dived again. Some Arions fired at her, some GAR’s splashed off her chest, none stopped her. Missiles exploded, dirt fountained. Death flashed back and forth between the sides and all the while the line was forming.

Then it was no longer forming and there was a terrible moment of stillness even as she eradicated file after file and as the massed legions of black clad troops tensed themselves. Then the moment was gone in a single wave of motion, the line broke and surged forward, flooding the green slope beneath a treacle black sea of flesh and armour.

It was too late. Aurora could only watch with cold horror; she hadn’t stopped the Charge, and now a bare hundred men were all that stood between Beni and the tide.

As the Arions moved into range, all four cannons on both Landwarriors erupted, exploding the brown sod, scything the long grass and flinging bodies high into the air. Along with their main armament the Commandante’s forces fired their heavy GAR’s, laying down withering suppressing fire that decimated the Arions even as the Porturegan’s own infantry split the advancing aliens with vertical lightning. From the huge silver rails, each one taller than a man, the captured HGAR set up a terrible din of destruction as its unwavering beams cut wet zigzags in the sod, having already passed, almost unobstructed, through countless Betan bodies.

The ’Warriors switched to alternate fire, discharging one cannon as the other reloaded and spitting indiscriminate death among the Imperial waves.

The slaughter was overwhelming, yet still the Arions came. Unafraid and utterly determined, firing as they ran, the invaders ignored everything but their goal. Not even Aurora, who massacred them without effort, could slow the pace at which their feet beat down the grass.

Then it was thirty minutes to launch and the Arions had reached the grey edge where nature gave way to smooth aeneucrete. There they were momentarily checked by the wire fence and for an instant it looked as if the Charge might be stalled. The Porturegans, driven almost mad by the unwavering rush of their enemy, screamed as they cut into the Arions bunching up on the port’s margin.

But the delay was transitory. Scant seconds passed before the Betans battered down the flimsy fence, using their great strength to destroy or rend the wire. Before them lay open ground and a withering enemy; almost half of the defenders had been killed or wounded and the grey aeneucrete had been splashed red with blood, bodies and offal. Barely 70 men remained and the Arions still came in their hundreds.

The speed with which they moved belied their accuracy and their pragmatism; for despite its name, the Charge was not a single long surge of movement. The Arions wove, ducked, stopped and ran in spurts. They fired over one another’s heads, used whatever sparse cover there was, even \their own dead, which speckled Séuchão Estak’s flat boundary, piling the bodies up into fleshy barriers from which they could pour fire into the diminishing defensive pocket.

But while the Charge continued to move, it had been visibly slowed by the flat expanse it was forced to cross. For all the Imperial expertise the defenders had a clear line of fire and the weak Porturegan GAR’s could cut through two or three bodies, even with their armor, before being exhausted.

Finally Leandro gave the order to abandon the front line and the Arion whoop of victory could be heard all the way to The Lance as the defenders fled before them.

The Landwarriors continued to fight even when it was clear that they were overwhelmed. The first was killed as the last of its infantry screen was shot down and Betans got close enough to toss grenades into its shelter. The second, realising that hope was lost, decided to meet death head on and rode out into the swarm. Betans fell beneath its armored tracks, were smashed against its armour and obliterated by its armament and for a moment it almost looked as if it might turn the tide all by itself.

Almost. With molten metal spilling in white hot drops in its wake and even the ceramic screens reaching ignition point, the ’Warrior was bleeding to death. It was hellishly hot within the vehicle and desperate to breathe, the crew tried to open their hatches. To their horror the molten metal had sagged and kept the flaps down, entombing them and then there was the terrific crack of an armoured track finally snapping under stress and heat.

The ’Warrior screamed and skidded in a wide circle, its now bare left side wheels scraping a long groove in the aeneucrete. Yet still the fighting vehicle continued its murderous course, crashing into the charge like a tipsy juggernaut amongst mice even as its crew screamed and died.

It could not last. Finally someone managed to toss a grenade beneath its streaming carapace and blew what remained of its traction apart. Even then ’Warrior would not rest as its gunner, realizing his doom and not wishing to die alone, continued firing indiscriminately into the masses. With both loaders dead from the heat he had only two rounds left to fire but by then a group of Arions had risked the heat of the ’Warrior’s hull to reach an access hatch and fling yet more grenades inside.

The ’Warrior finally died, gloriously as superheated plasma first crushed the miserable soft targets within, then blew them without as it burned through to the ammunition and turned the glowing wreck into a red column of fire and smoke.

Aurora watched the death from the distant second line, looking away only as the sides ruptured and sprayed molten death over the immediate landscape.

The Arions were already closing on the second line and it was obvious that very shortly yet another retreat would have to be called… but, she braved a glance at The Lance and its still miraculously unmarked hull. There were only minutes till launch. If they could only hold out just a little bit longer they would make it.

So she did the only thing she could. She landed before the twenty of so survivors, with her back to the enemy and her cape rippling in the breeze, she put her hands on her hips to address them

Many were injured, having been dragged painfully over the rough aeneucrete by comrades who did not wish to see them delivered to the mercies of the Arions. Yet despite their pain and red soaked bandages, they looked up at her. Even as muddy and filthily as she was, Aurora was their symbol of hope, an angel from heaven, their saint and Protector.

“You have fought hard,” she spoke aloud. “Fought so very hard. For longer and harder than could ever have been expected of you. You have achieved more than I could have ever hoped when I asked you to resist the Arion plague, yet I must ask you for one more thing, one more task before you can rest and that is to hold on for fifteen more minutos. That is all. Just fifteen minutos and all of your sacrifices, all of your death and pain will be vindicated because that ship--” she pointed to The Lance-- “will bring my sisters to me and we will finally drive this scourge from your world.”

She looked into their eyes. She saw their pain. Pain, bone-tired weariness and not a little fear. But she also saw hope, which until moments ago had been dying and now burned like a beacon. They would follow her, and they would give her fifteen minutes

“Thank you,” She bowed almost double, tears of joy and awe spilling from her eyes. “Fifteen minutos, that is all, and you can go. Thank you.”

Someone actually cheered and started to clap. Even the stoic Colonel, crippled as he was by the loss of his arm above the elbow, could be seen trying to give her ovation by slapping his remaining hand against his breastplate.

“You heard her!” someone shouted. “The Fair Child needs fifteen minutos, and we shall give them to her!”

The cry went up. “Fifteen minutos!” “Fifteen minutos!” “Fifteen minutos!”

* * *

The Arions suddenly found themselves in a new fight. Closing on what they thought was a broken and demoralized mass, they were astonished to find themselves being cut down by men who fought as if they’d just entered the battle.

The front of the Charge was obliterated, wiped out beneath the weight of Porturegans fire. The second and third ranks faltered, and then the impossible happened; an Arion Charge was driven back.

Barely two hundred Arions were still standing, and though they faced but twenty uninjured survivors and a score of walking wounded they were forced to turn, fleeing for the cover of the Aloc Acoc. Their indecipherable screams of surprise was suddenly drowned out by an even deeper crack and they realized that even the flimsy protection afforded by the skyscrapers was not enough against an infuriated Virago.

Some of the Arions had adopted the Porturegans’ tactic of firing from the lower windows and were crushed as the buildings they were using for cover shook and collapsed as the Virago soared high.

As the Aloc Acoc tower collapsed on the recoiling Arions, the sun broke from behind a cloud and Aurora, still flying high above the battle, seemed to flash into brilliance as the light reflected off her white uniform.

To the troops below she appeared a sun child, and even those who were not Believers felt a tug of greatness as the glowing speck arced slowly and then dove, driving through yet another building and sending it crashing down on the invaders.

Yet even that deafening roar was drowned out by what came next. It was as if God had reached down and struck the earth.

Nothing, nothing in any of the collective experiences of either side could even begin to prepare them for the roar and explosion of being so close to a starship breaking contact with the earth.

A vast, indescribable column of pure white gas roared and spilled over the distant launching pad, obscuring everything beneath a glowing cloud Such was the immensity of the eruption that Aurora froze in mid air, terrified that the worst had happened and some stray shot had penetrated the great fuel tank,

But then from out of the maelstrom The Lance emerged. Slowly at first, but then with greater and greater speed it rocketed into the heavens on a column of marble white gas.

As one, both armies stopped and stared as the rapidly climbing rocket mastered the mighty pull of gravity and then escaped it, leaving nothing but a coiling snake of smoke and steam.

It took a while for everyone’s hearing to return, but when it did, it came back to the sound of human cheers.

Aurora, who was no less elated than her protectorate, was eager to be among them once again. “My friends,” she gushed over her new toy, “you have done everything I have ever… could ever expect from you. But now you must go. You gave me my fifteen minutos and now there is no reason to give me your lives. You must retreat Go, now!”

It was hardly as moving as her previous speech, but was no less effective. Far below, she saw the tiny group of ragged survivors stand around their wounded Colonel and begin to move out.

Aurora, her heart out in space with her lover and wishing to join it with her body, was obliged to stay also and cover their retreat, but she did so willingly. It was after all the least she could do for people who had given her so much.

Chapter 10

Aurora headed back from her engagement with the fleet. Things had the sense of completion. The Lance