D. MacHale - The Soldiers of Halla

He went ahead and detailed a series of guerrilla attacks they had planned to carry out on the conclave. They didn’t expect them to be any more than a nuisance to the Ravinians, but coupled with the addition of an able-bodied army, these small-scale attacks suddenly felt like they could be the foundation of a very large-scale invasion.

We shared our own ideas on how we might be able to pull off the impossible. After batting around all the ideas, we came up with a plan.

“It could work,” Mark said. “It relies on a lot, but it could work.”

“It has to work,” I added.

“I’ll call in every last able-bodied person within a fifty-mile radius and start the wheels in motion,” Mark explained. “We have weapons stored all over Manhattan. Will the exiles be armed?”

“They have portable weapons that neutralize dados” was my answer.

Mark’s eyes lit up. He looked at his friends. They were just as impressed.

“Those would be handy,” he said, understating the obvious. “Not worried about mixing territories?”

“Not anymore,” I answered. “The Convergence has made Halla one under Saint Dane’s thumb.”

Patrick asked Mark, “Where should we gather? Seventy thousand people need a lot of room.”

Mark thought for a moment, then said, “Most of our weapons are stored downtown. I think the best rallying spot is Washington Square Park.”

“Done,” I said. “That’s where we’ll create this end of the flume.”

“Assuming you can,” Mark said, letting a bit of skepticism show. “And that you can convince the exiles to join up.”

“We can,” Patrick said with supreme confidence. “And we will.”

Patrick Mac had come a long way from being the tentative teacher who lived the perfect life on Third Earth. Maybe more so than any of us, his world had been turned upside down. While all of us witnessed the social upheavals caused by Ravinia on our homes, Patrick’s territory had gone through the most dramatic change. There were times when I worried that he could keep it together. But he always met each challenge head-on. Being able to work through his fears proved that, in many ways, Patrick was the bravest of us all.

Patrick and I left Mark and his people to begin making preparations. We stepped outside for one moment alone.

“Looks like you were right,” I said to him.

“About what?” Patrick asked.

“It’s come down to Third Earth. The last territory. It really is your turn.”

Patrick got a faraway look in his eye. I believe that for those few moments, his head went back to what Third Earth was before. His true home. The way it was meant to be. He came back to reality with a look in his eye that was as determined as I’d ever seen from him.

“Then I guess I’d better make the most of it,” he said, almost cocky.

The Traveler from Third Earth was ready to go.

I had one more moment with Mark. My friend and I had been through so much, together and apart, even before I had become a Traveler. He was my oldest friend. He was my brother.

“So… she’s okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’s good. Better than good. You can ask her yourself pretty soon.”

“You think she’ll come here with the exiles?” he asked, daring to hope.

I laughed. “Are you serious? We’re talking about Courtney, right?”

Mark laughed too. “Yeah, dumb question. She’ll probably lead the way.”

The two of us looked at each other. Neither knew what to say. Instead, we hugged.

“You know something,” he said softly. “The memory of our life back at home is the only thing that’s kept me going.”

“I know. I think that goes for everybody.” “I miss it.” “Me too.”

“Are we going to win this one?” he whispered, so none of the others could hear.

“We have to” was the only answer I could give.

He pulled away from me. His eyes were watery. “We better. I want to go home.”

“I do too,” I said.

It was the first time I had been less than honest with Mark. Of course I wanted to go home. To Second Earth. To Stony Brook. To my old life. But win or lose, that wasn’t possible. I wasn’t from Second Earth. Not really. I was only a visitor. My life back there had been fabricated. It tore me up to accept that. There was no way I’d say that to Mark. At least, not then. Our friendship meant too much to me.

Patrick joined us. It was time to get going.

“Be alert,” I said to them. “And be ready.”

“Good luck,” Patrick said.

I gave one last look to Patrick, then to Mark, then stepped off the territory to begin the most important mission I’d ever undertaken as a Traveler. I had to convince a multitude of civilians that they had one more battle to fight.

Whether they wanted it or not, they were the final hope for Halla.

Gunny met me on the outskirts of the village of Black Water.

He had been waiting for me. That was the plan. In the time Gunny had spent with the gars on Eelong, they had come to trust him. Spader too. But I didn’t think it would be smart to bring Spader along on this diplomatic mission. This wasn’t the time for enthusiasm and “Hobey! Let’s go get ‘em!” We needed a steady, guiding hand if we were to convince the exiles to come on board. Gunny was that guy. He sat on a rock, overlooking the village, waiting.

“How’d it go, shorty?” Gunny said as casually as if he were asking about the weather.

“Mark and his people are with us. Patrick will let us know if things start happening on Third Earth.”

Gunny shook his head. He looked tired. “Such a thing,” he said wistfully, as he gazed down at the village of Black Water. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “This all just keeps getting more complicated.”

Gunny was the oldest Traveler. He’d seen so much more in his life than the rest of us. His real life, that is. As tough as it was to accept the fact that we all originally came from Solara, it must have been the hardest on Gunny. He had lived pretty close to a full life on Earth before learning he was a Traveler. He had a different perspective than most of the rest of us.

“You okay, Gunny?” I asked. “I mean, we’ve been hit with a lot of things lately.”

“You know, shorty, I’m near sixty-five years old. At least, I think I am. I’ve kind of lost track of the years. I seen a lot of things, even before I learned about the Travelers. It’s not easy for an old duffer like me to accept new things, and I’m not so sure I would have believed this business about us being spirits from some other dimension, ‘cept for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Gunny held his hands up. Both of them. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed before, but Gunny had two hands again. I blinked. How could that have happened? His left hand had been chewed off by a tang on Eelong years before. Now it was back, as good as new. He flexed it and made a fist to show me how real it was.

“How?” was all I could get out.

“Don’t really know” was his answer. “When Spader and I got swept out of here, wouldn’t you know it, but my old hand came right along with me. Like nothin’ ever happened. I guess I should be happy about it, and I am. But what it tells me, more than anything, is that we really aren’t natural to Earth. We’re made-up beings, and that’s why those spirit folks were able to make me up a new hand. Heck of a thing.”

“But a good thing, right?”

“Sure, ‘cept it makes me a might sad. I liked the life I was living.”

“I hear you.”

“Makes me realize something else, too. I was poor most of my life. Had to teach myself to read and write. Never wore a single piece of clothing that didn’t first belong to somebody else, till I joined the army. But I made something of myself. I was the bell captain of the Manhattan Tower Hotel and proud of it. I might not have been setting the world on fire, but I was good at what I did. People appreciated it, and I was happy.”