D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

I was ready.

My first stop was not Eelong. For this battle to work, we needed to lay the groundwork. Instead of going right to Eelong, Patrick and I went to Third Earth. I needed to see Mark.

“Something’s happening,” Mark told me.

He was on edge. Much more so than when I had seen him the last time. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he began stuttering again. The three of us were together in the Manhattan warehouse where his band of rebels made their base. We sat in front of one of the stolen Ravinian helicopters while many of his friends watched us from a distance, trying to hear our conversation. I didn’t want them to be part of this. We needed Mark’s sole attention.

“The dados are being moved out of the factory,” he continued.

“To where?” Patrick asked, surprised.

“They’re gathering outside the walls of the conclave. They’re activating them long enough to bring them out, then shutting them down again. Bobby, I think they’re making room so they can build more.”

That was a sobering thought, but I didn’t think it was correct. There were already thousands of those robots.

Mark continued, “If they march on Manhattan, they’ll wipe us out.”

“They’re not going to march on Manhattan,” I said with confidence. “That’s why we’re here.” I had Mark’s full attention.

“I need you to be my eyes, Mark,” I said. “We need to know exactly what’s happening with those dados. Patrick will stay with you. If something happens, he can blast out of here and let us know instantly. Can you do that?”

Mark shrugged. “Sure. I can have eyes in every one of those tunnels around the conclave. We’re organized, Bobby. If somebody so much as farts, we’ll know it.”

“You can keep that to yourself,” I said with a chuckle. “Anything else, let Patrick know immediately.”

“And I’ll let the Travelers know,” Patrick added.

“What’s going on?” Mark asked. “If they’re not going to march on Third Earth, what’s the point?”

I told him flat out. “The exiles are on Eelong. In Black Water. Saint Dane is going to create a flume and send the dado army to attack them there.”

Mark squinted, thinking, working to get his head around the idea.

“Okay. Not good,” he concluded.

“No, and we’ve come up with a plan to stop them.”

Mark sat silently, anxiously waiting for my next words. It was time to drop the bomb on him.

“We’re going to attack the Ravinian conclave.”

He stared at me with a blank look, as if he didn’t understand what I’d said. He didn’t move for a solid ten seconds.

“Mark? You there?”

He shook his head and said, “Yeah. Wow. For a second I thought you said you wanted to attack the Ravinian conclave.”

“I did.”

He blinked once. And again. “L–Listen, Bobby,” he stuttered, and instantly reacted to it. “Damn! I hate that.” “It’s okay. You should be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous. I’m stunned. And you’re crazy. We’ve got rebels hiding all over the area. We’ve built up a pretty decent armory of stolen weapons, too. But to defend ourselves. We don’t have the manpower to attack that fort. I admire your guts, Bobby, but it’s suicide.”

“I’m not asking you or your rebels to join in the attack,” I said.

Mark frowned. “Then who the heck is going to do it? You? The Travelers? It might be different if we could enlist those seventy thousand exiles, but short of that, no way.”

My answer was to smile at him. It took about five seconds until I saw the look of realization change his expression.

“Are you serious?” he asked with a mixture of hope and disbelief.

“Deadly.”

“They agreed to attack the conclave?”

Patrick and I shared looks.

“Not yet,” I admitted. “That’s my next stop.”

Mark winced. My boast of leading an overwhelming attack force suddenly appeared not only crazy, but hollow. I figured it was time to let him know exactly where we stood. With everything.

I had briefly explained it before, but this time I laid it all out in detail. For the next hour Patrick and I told him about Solara and the force of spirit that helped guide mankind. We explained how Saint Dane corrupted that spirit into giving him the power to create a new universe. I even explained our plan to create a flume that would bring the exiles to Third Earth. We told him everything. Mark didn’t question a word. I think that as incredible a story as it was, we were filling in the blanks that had been confounding him since he was fourteen years old. He had been just as involved with this war as I had. He understood. He accepted. Mark Dimond was up to speed.

When I finished, the first thing he said was, “So whatever chance we have, we owe to Nevva Winter.”

“Without her, the exiles would be dead and so would Halla.”

He shook his head in dismay. “That may be the most incredible thing you’ve told me. Nevva Winter. Geez.”

“Kinda makes you think there might still be hope for mankind, doesn’t it?”

Patrick added, “But we still have to convince the exiles. Without them, none of this works.”

We let Mark work the information over in his head. I knew him. He was calculating possibilities.

“How long?” he asked.

“No idea. But I’m thinking that if they’re moving dados, Saint Dane is getting ready to make that flume and move on Eelong.”

“Doing recon is cake,” he said. “If something happens, you’ll know it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” I said.

“It’s not all you’re going to get,” Mark added.

“Excuse me?” Patrick asked.

“You see how we live. Hiding, running, wondering when a helicopter might show up to blow us away. We live like rats waiting to be exterminated. Up until now we’ve only thought about survival. I can tell you, if given the chance to strike back, we’re going to take it.”

“We’re not asking you to put your friends or any of the rebels on the line,” I said. “Your weapons will be welcome, but I can’t ask you to risk your lives.”

Mark laughed. “Risk our lives? This is no life! Bobby, you’re looking at a bunch of people who’ve lost hope. Hearing what you’re saying is the first ray of light we’ve seen in a very long time. Do you think for one second that if there’s a chance to fight for ourselves, no matter how impossible it may seem, we wouldn’t go for it?”

I felt like I was being watched. Looking around, I saw that several of Mark’s grungy rebel friends had been hanging around, eavesdropping. At least twenty men and women stood to the rear of one of the helicopters, staring at us. They heard every word we were saying.

“Is it true?” I called to them. “Are you willing to attack the conclave?”

They exchanged tentative looks. At first I thought it was because they weren’t sure how to answer. I quickly realized it was more about deciding who would be the one to speak. Finally a girl stepped forward. It was Maddie, the crazy cabdriver. Her eyes blazed.

“Say when” was her simple answer.

Patrick smiled. “Looking better all the time.”

Mark was all business. “We can offer more than reconnaissance. We’ve been making plans to cause some trouble on our own. Maybe they can fit in with yours.”

I looked around at the eager faces of the rebels and answered, “At the risk of losing any faith you might have in us, there is no real attack plan. We’re figuring this out as we go along. So if you’ve got any ideas…”

Mark looked at his friends. I expected to see disappointment all around. Just the opposite happened. They seemed even more charged up than before.

Mark said, “Maybe I should tell you what we’ve been planning.”