“That is so. This line is secure, meaning that no one can intercept our conversation. I am a schoolteacher in the village of Cordan. For three generations, I have been teaching outside the Dragon parameters. My students learn math, physics, chemistry, biology, and astronomy, and they read the Amred classics. Cordan has twenty-five hundred inhabitants, most educated by me. All of them can be a resource for you, either now, if we can work out a way, or later, when this stupidity is done. Over.”

  “Fascinating! I know of nothing your people can do right now, but please tell them that as soon as the conflict is over—and you know how it will go—I will contact you again on this channel. If I need to speak with you in the meantime, how can I do that? Over.”

  “Call on this channel. Your call will be recorded, and I will hear it the first time I activate my transceiver. In your message give a time for a live call. Over.”

  “Okay, that works. I need to get off this call right now. Over.”

  “Okay, I look forward to our next contact. Out.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amred Battlefield—Outside Amred City, Planet Arcan

  Sergeant Metajo Gwzon carried a sword as a badge of authority. He knew how to use it, but had never used it in battle—until now. Twelve minutes ago, he had bloodied it for the first time when a squad of Geroptics had charged his position. He lost three lizards in the exchange, but the Geroptics lost three dozen to his bullets and his one sword thrust.

  Runners brought up ammo, ducking arrows as they ran. Gwzon had found a way to outfit his ninety troops with flat metal plates welded to their battle helmets that protected from arrow showers. He had purchased them at a local hardware store in the Amred outskirts. Otherwise, all the troops wore flexible armor that protected their torsos, arms, and legs. They were not impervious to a saber chop, and far too many Amred soldiers had lost their heads when they failed to protect their necks with their rifle stocks.

  Before he and his squad went into battle, Gwzon had studied the Geroptic tactics. Since they had no guns, they were forced into hand-to-hand combat, and they were good at it. The obvious counter tactic was to keep them at bay, but this did not always work. The body armor that protected his troops had four vulnerabilities—face, both hands, and neck. The Geroptics invariably went for the neck. Before his troops went into battle, Gwzon drilled them in a counter tactic until they could do it without thought. When face to face with a Geroptic warrior swinging his saber, hold the bayonetted rifle vertically on the side where the saber was, to catch the cut. Then, swing it horizontal to thrust and fire simultaneously. In battle, where his troops actually used this counter tactic, they survived, and the Geroptic didn’t. It was brutally effective.

  Gwzon’s squad was good, and the Geroptic field grade officers figured this out fairly quickly. They threw more and more troops against Gwzon’s position.

  Gwzon had lost his machine gunners early in the conflict and had received no replacements. As the onslaught against his position increased, he set his squad up in three rows of thirty for a modified retreating countermarch volley fire—the front kneeled, the second squatted, and the third stood, all with automatic rifles at the ready. This was a maneuver they had practiced until they could do it sleeping.

  With Geroptics rushing at sixty meters, Gwzon held his sword high and then dropped it, yelling, “Fire!”

  The back row fired a burst of three automatic rounds and stepped back six paces while the middle row stood and fired a burst of three automatic rounds that followed the first volley so closely it seemed like continuous fire. The second row dropped back and squatted as the first row stood and fired in what again seemed like continuous fire, and dropped back six paces to kneel in front of the middle row. As they kneeled, the back row took up the fire again, maintaining the continuous fire.

  As the squad used up its ammo, runners kept them supplied from the rear. The maneuver worked well, and they killed hundreds of Geroptics, but they kept coming, and now they were only twenty-four meters away.

  Gwzon knew an officer was watching the slaughter and the advancing Geroptic warriors. His faith in that officer’s skill kept him focused on his own squad as they slowly retreated while pouring withering fire into the advancing Geroptic warriors, who were shouting, “Dragon!... Dragon!... Dragon!” as they advanced at a flat-out run. As the warrior front ranks succumbed to the withering fire, the next rank ran over their bodies, carrying the entire block forward several meters before themselves falling to the hail of bullets. The block was twelve warriors wide and moved ever forward over the bodies of the fallen, shrinking in size, but finally reaching hand-to-hand contact with Gwzon’s squad.

  Gwzon’s lizards knew their stuff. They switched from their retreating volley fire to hand-to-hand combat, using the rifle-blocking technique they had practiced so often. Several Amred soldiers fell as the Geroptic block pressed against the squad. For every squad soldier felled, however, a dozen or more Geroptic warriors gave their lives.

  Gwzon found himself faced with a warrior swinging a saber in each hand. Gwzon blocked one blade with his armored arm and the other with his rifle, and swung the rifle horizontal for the killing thrust, when suddenly, a silvery apparition was dragging him across the ground. His sword and rifle were gone, and he was encased in some kind of silvery suit.

  To Gwzon’s astonishment, the apparition unzipped his suit and stepped out in a major’s uniform. Gwzon came to attention, but the major said, “Stand easy, Sergeant,” and reached out and unzipped his suit. “You were just caught up in a stasis sphere. I put you in a suit and dragged you out. This is all new stuff, so listen closely, because you will explain it to your squad. Our friends up there,” he pointed to the sky, “can somehow encase anything in what they call a stasis sphere. Inside the sphere, time effectively stops—not entirely, they tell me, but almost. These suits,” he pointed to the crumpled suits on the ground, “called anti-stasis suits, allow a lizard to enter a stasis sphere without experiencing the effects of the sphere. You have to push the air aside to move around—you’ll see what I mean.”

  The major pointed toward one part of the sphere. “As you can see, your anti-stasis-suit-encased lizards are being pulled out of the sphere as we speak. I will issue each of you an anti-stasis suit. You will enter the sphere, locate all the Geroptic warriors, disarm them—be sure to check for hidden knives—and bring the weapons out of the sphere. Other lizards will handle the weapons from there. Then you will reenter the sphere and shackle the warriors together. When they are all shackled, we’ll collapse the sphere. Remember what you experienced when I dragged you out? One moment, they are fighting or doing whatever they were doing, the next, they are shackled together and lying on the ground. They are going to be confused as hell—probably even angry, fighting angry. Make no mistake, a shacked Geroptic warrior is still a formidable opponent. Watch yourselves. Make them stand, and bring them to one of the obvious holding areas.”

  The major opened his eyes, blinking. “You’ve got quite a reputation, Sergeant. I know you will get this working quickly. We’ve got potentially several thousand Geroptics we need to handle.” He gave another Arcan grin, eyes wide open and blinking. “Oh, the war is over.”

  Stasis Sphere—Amred Battlefield Outside Amred City, Planet Arcan

  To say Gwzon was astonished would be a monumental understatement. His scales turned a solid yellow, and he worked hard to control his astonishment as he watched his lizards being dragged from the sphere. He gave a loud whistle and pulled them together—all remaining ninety-seven. The three fallen troops had been removed in body bags by the field medics.

  “This is important, Lizards, really important,” Gwzon said, his scales rippling multiple colors, telling the world of his uncertainty. “You Lizards will wear those shiny suits. They will protect you from the effects of the inside of the spheres. They tell me time stops inside. That means ain’t nothin’ movin’. It’s completely black. You open your suit inside, you stop movin’ till someone rescues you. We will form a line right at the edge of the sphere, all ninety-eight of us—yes, that includes me at the center. We’ll be connected with a comm cable that is insulated like our suits. Without that insulation, comms won’t work. So be careful of it. Don’t tear it or anything, or we lose our comms. We’ll step through the sphere together. Once inside, the air will be thick and spongy and it will be black as coal. We’ll push our way through it. Keep the chatter on the comm line to a minimum.

  “We’ll walk forward together, arms linked, peeling lizards off the sphere side as we move forward. As this happens, you will be pushed outward by the line. Just keep contact with the sphere and move forward with the line, keeping it as straight as possible in the darkness. When one of you runs into a frozen warrior, inform me by comm. You will know who found the warrior. Two lizards on each side mark your spot with a marker and crawl toward the warrior. First thing, you disarm him completely. Now remember, it’s pitch black, you can see nothin’. Be sure to locate his hidden knife or knives. Place the weapons on the line between the markers. We’ll deal with them later. Then shackle the warrior’s hands and feet, and lay him on the ground.”

  Gwzon whistled to get the attention of a couple lizards in the back who were not paying attention. “Listen up, Lizards, this may save your life.”

  He continued his brief. “Now we reform the line by crawling back to your position. During this process, be sure to give the comm line sufficient slack. Then move forward with the line like before until we run out of sphere. We will continue to stop as we find warriors and deal with them. Once we reach the middle, the last lizard at each end will be free of the sphere. Let me know by comm. While we are on the middle line of the sphere, we will do our best to straighten the line. Then we move forward as before, stopping for warriors. The end lizards will remain close to the sphere wall when they reach it. Adjust your position as needed and hold it until the rest of us reach the sphere. When we all reach the sphere, everyone move along the sphere to my position. Then we will form a single line and walk toward the center. I know how far it is. When we reform, our line should cover the width of the sphere.”

  Gwzon walked along the front rank. “That’s a lot of info, Lizards. Questions?”

  For fifteen minutes, Gwzon fielded questions from his troops. Some were thoughtful, some were less so, but he patiently answered all.

  “Okay, Lizards, form up on me along the edge of the sphere.”

  They did.

  “Count off, right and left.”

  The troops counted off to forty-four on the right and forty-three on the left.

  “Now, remember your number, Lizards. It will matter inside.”

  Stasis Sphere—Amred Battlefield Outside Amred City, Planet Arcan

  Sergeant Metajo Gwzon was a tough, accomplished noncom.

  He had earned his chops during the Ceffid conflict and was recognized as one of the best noncoms in the army. He had seen a lot, but nothing like this. His troops seemed to think he had done this before and knew how everything worked.

  If they only knew, he thought. This thing scares the shit out of me, but I’m the only one who knows that.

  He squared his shoulders and gave the order, “Lizards, enter the sphere.”

  Gwzon had been told what to expect, but this was really strange. It was like walking into a room filled with soft bubbles. They moved away when he pushed, but otherwise surrounded him completely—almost like a cocoon.

  “This shit is weird, Lizards,” he said over the comm. “Everyone okay?”

  “Crazy shit!”

  “Wild!”

  “Fucking unreal!”

  “Knock off the chatter, Lizards!” Gwzon said. “Okay, move forward on me, peeling off the sphere when the line reaches you.”

  A few seconds later, someone shouted, “Got one!”

  “Stop the line,” Gwzon said. “What’s your number?”

  “Six-right.”

  “Okay, Four- and Five-right, move to your right…Seven- and Eight-right, move to your left.”

  “This is Six-right. They’re here.”

  “Alright, you Lizards, disarm the warrior completely and shackle him.”

  “This is Seven-left. I just reached out in front of me and touched a warrior.”

  “Okay, Eight- and Nine-left, move to your right…Six- and Five-left, move to your left.”

  “This is Seven-left. They’re here.”

  “Okay, Lizards, disarm and shackle him.”

  And so it went for five hours. They found several troop carriers, but Gwzon told them to leave the carriers. Removing the warriors from the carriers was a real challenge, but they got it done. By the time Gwzon’s lizards had downed the shackled warriors and separated the weapons, their suit air supplies were nearly empty, and the troops were exhausted.

  The warriors’ reactions when the sphere collapsed were something to behold. From his own experience, Gwzon could sympathize with them. From their perspective, one moment they were in full charge with a combat mindset. The next, they were shackled to each other, hand and foot, lying on the ground. It was undignified. At worst, it was horrifying.

  The major spoke to them in Geroptic, a language Gwzon had acquired somewhere along the line.

  “Geroptic Lizards, to your feet!” The major’s voice was loud and firm, but even-tempered.

  The Geroptic soldiers responded, although several shouted arrogant insults. The major ignored them.

  “Walk to that truck and climb aboard. Help each other as necessary,” he ordered.

  The bewildered Geroptic warriors shuffled toward the truck and did as told. Even the belligerent ones seemed to grasp their impossible position. They were prisoners, and their war was over.

  After the sphere near Gwzon collapsed and the shackled warriors were removed, ten empty troop carriers stood in the field. The major sent ten of his lizards to drive them to a holding compound next to a temporary pen holding the warriors, who were still shackled, but not to each other.

  Gwzon launched a drone and flew it over the battle area. Three spheres still shone in the afternoon sunlight, and he spied five troop carrier groupings that he assumed marked the location of earlier spheres. Soldiers drove trucks full of shackled Geroptic warriors toward the holding compound, and others drove the now empty troop carriers to their holding area.

  Although he didn’t have direct information, Gwzon assumed that the same kind of activity filled each of the other portal sites in Amred and Ceffid. The major was right—the war was truly over!

  Amred President Binecot Katengi’s Office—Amred City, Amred, Planet Arcan

  Thorpe stepped through a portal into President Binecot Katengi’s office in the government complex in Amred City. Ceffid President Spajo Boszut sat in one comfortable chair near Katengi’s desk. Thorpe took the other. Katengi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His scales rippled somewhat but remained green.

  “Thank you both for coming. This is an informal meeting. I am making no recordings and taking no notes.” Katengi gave them a big Arcan smile, wide open eyes.

  “That’s fine by me, Binecot,” Boszut said. “You have been a friend and mentor ever since I assumed the presidency of Ceffid. If you want to be off the record, I have no problem.”

  “As for me,” Thorpe said, “I’m not sure how history will treat my presence on Arcan, but any time you want to be off the record, it’s fine by me.”

  With that established, Katengi wasted no time coming to his topic. “The Holy War is over. Between us, Spajo and I have tens of thousands of prisoners. We can handle them fine. Within a few months, all of them will be repatriated. Our joint problem, however, is General Nirurian Klarot. We are holding him under house arrest, but we simply do not know what to do with him.”

  Both Katengi and Boszut turned to look at Thorpe. Katengi smiled inwardly as Thorpe struggled to answer. He had come to know the offworlder quite well. Answering questions like this was not his forte. Unfortunately, he and Boszut were at loggerheads on this issue. Boszut wanted to imprison the general. Katengi wanted to execute him. Hopefully, Thorpe could find a way.

  Thorpe looked back at both Arcans. “You two have boxed me in,” he said. “We have a Holy Book in our culture that tells of a king confronted with a similar problem. Two women each claimed a baby. The king, Soloman, offered a solution. He would cut the babe in half and give half to each woman. One woman agreed. The second reacted with horror and said to give the baby to the other woman. Of course, the king gave the baby to the rightful mother, the woman who did not want the babe killed.” He grinned widely.

  “General Klarot is not a baby, and the situation is not really similar. Still, I really don’t have the wisdom to solve this for you. But, I know someone who does. I have mentioned him earlier—John Butler, Chairman of the Oort Federation. Are you willing to have him arbitrate the matter?”

  Katengi and Boszut looked at each other, their scales rippling yellow in astonishment. I should have thought of that, Katengi thought. “Yes!” he said. “Let’s go for it.”

  “That works for me,” Boszut said. “I want to get this shit behind us.” He looked at Katengi, eyes wide open. “If John Butler can pull this off, we’ll have an entire planet at peace.”

  Neither Katengi nor Boszut had paid much attention to Thorpe during their exchange. When Katengi looked at him, he was astonished and pleasantly surprised, because John Butler had just entered his office quietly, unannounced. Butler walked to Katengi, both his hands extended in friendship. Then he offered his hands to Boszut, who had come to his feet when he realized Butler was in the room.

  Katengi pulled up another comfortable chair and gestured for Butler to take it. Katengi sat on the couch.

  Butler smiled. “Let’s have a conversation,” he said. “But first, with all due respect to you, President Katengi, we are sitting in your office in the Amred center of government. Intended or not, this is a bias with which I am uncomfortable. Would you all be willing to join me on Andromeda, where we will have impartial neutrality?”

 

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