Young men, soldiers, nineteen fourteen

Marching through countries they'd never seen

Virgins with rifles, a game of charades

All for a Children's Crusade

Pawns in the game are not victims of chance

Strewn on the fields of Belgium and France

Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade

All of those young lives betrayed

All for a Children's Crusade

Sting - “Children's Crusade”

“...are you saying you won’t support us, Admiral?” Leandra demanded, her tone growing more heated.

“No, Prime Minister, I’m saying that I can’t,” Admiral Matevosian replied, “for several reasons.”

She forced herself to take a calming breath, before responding. She and the other ministers were still taking refuge in the safe house, as rioting and crackdowns continued in the Capital. The forces under her command that she could rely on were still far too few to attempt a rescue, at least until things were a little more settled. There were plans in the works to deal with the unrest, but until they were ready she wasn’t prepared to go off half-cocked. At least Control had been as good as its word, rigging a secure com net that allowed her to speak to Earth, but it wasn’t enough. Besides, she had bigger problems.

“Then why don’t you explain them to me,” she fired back, cursing her rising temper yet again. Cabin fever was getting the better of her.

“Ever since this latest attack, things have taken an ugly turn,” he answered. “The relief force was supposed to be aiding us, and they did provide us supplies...at first. But even then, there was a rather vocal element denouncing the idea of having aliens in charge of guarding Earth. We kept them on a short leash, as long as the task force was ministering to our needs.” He sighed and shook his head. “But once they attacked the shipyards…”

“...the leash came off,” Leandra whispered.

“With a vengeance,” the Admiral said. “If you think what you’re seeing at the Capital is bad, it’s nothing compared to what we’re facing here. There isn’t a city on the planet that hasn’t seen full-scale rioting, and it’s not much better in any of the remaining colonies.” He shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. “It’s gotten so bad it has forced us to put all Triumvirate citizens into protective custody.”

“What?” she said in shock.

“It was the only way we could keep them alive, Prime Minister,” he said. “I have two whole divisions surrounding the camp, keeping our own people at bay. And...I’m hearing some disturbing rumors from the rank and file. A growing number of those same guards openly suggest that they’re pointing their weapons in the wrong direction.” He held up his hand before she could respond. “I have things under control for the moment, but I don’t know for how much longer I can say that.”

“Dear God,” she whispered. “Admiral...you must keep them safe. They aren’t responsible for what happened. This is the work of a single faction, and in time I know we can contain them. But if you gun down non-humans for the crimes of their brethren…”

“I know,” the Admiral said. “We’re doing the best we can, but I’m telling you now, the pot is ready to boil over.” He shrugged. “That’s why I can’t send you any support. Any humans we send to restore order aren’t likely to discriminate...they’ll just declare open season and start shooting everybody.” Matevosian sighed once more. “Besides, it’s a moot point anyway. We lost every ship under construction when the shipyards were destroyed. There’s nothing left to send.”

Leandra was about to respond when an idea struck her. She leaned back in her chair, an odd expression playing about her face.

“...actually Admiral, that’s not entirely true,” she said with a wry smile.

Graybird grimaced as he double-checked his equipment, before shaking his head. “I’m sorry Sir, but there’s been no response. Bravo Two-Two hasn’t acknowledged coms in over forty-eight hours.”

Nassat closed his eyes. “Perhaps they’ve had a malfunction,” he said.

The Hacker put on a brave face. “Yes, sir. That could be it,” he answered, but as he looked up at the Marshal, they both knew the truth. Bravo Two-Two...and the dozen soldiers still under his command...were gone.

The Saurotaur turned away, seeking privacy, though there was none to be found in their latest hiding spot. An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the Khonhim township had provided refuge for the last few days, but they couldn’t stay much longer. Even though they’d sought locations as near as possible to population centers for protection from the enemy fleet, it increased the likelihood of being spotted by residents on the ground. The longer they stayed, the worse the odds. Better to keep moving.

Nassat found a corner behind the human sniper Tango and sat down. She wouldn’t interrupt his thoughts as she kept watch, in fact, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her speak two sentences in a row since they landed. She was focused, even for a human.

Another team gone. He’d lost track of how many it was now, but even one would be a tragedy. They’d scattered to the four winds after breaking out of the perimeter, and they’d hurt those that had come after them, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, not when you counted those they had lost. Sergeant Lin and Musashi had both done their best to school him in the realities of guerilla warfare, but each lesson was a bitter pill. By definition, a guerilla fighter was lacking in weapons, in support, in all the things he took for granted serving in the Tetrarchy forces. The humans believed in the philosophy “Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it,” and had passed that concept on to their Triumvirate pupils.

Now they were learning a very different doctrine, one they called “Using all parts of the buffalo.” Nassat still didn’t know what a buffalo was. He hadn’t thought to ask. Not that it mattered.

He glanced up as someone took a seat beside him. Jiyazh. He sighed, and closed his eyes, not wanting to engage in conversation. Somehow the Khonhim warrior sensed this, and remained silent, for which he was grateful. Words seemed hollow just now. Perhaps they always had been.

His mind searched for solace, as images of his wife and children appeared in his imagination. Raichret. Was she even still alive? Would he ever see his children again? Would they grow up as orphans, while his bones rotted in a grave on a distant alien world? Or worse...would the Khonhim allow them to grow up at all? Nassat winced, shaking his head. Not even in the privacy of his own thoughts could he find peace.

“...huh.”

Nassat opened his eyes, searching for the source of the odd articulation. A quick glance at Jiyazh proved he was just as curious, as they both turned their attention to the alcove’s only other occupant.

“Have you spotted something?” Jiyazh asked.

“...I think one of your buddies is lost,” Tango said. “He’s just standing out in the open, holding some kind of a banner.” The sniper rifle was snugged into her shoulder. “Easy target.”

Jiyazh all but leapt to his feet. “What kind of banner?” he demanded.

“...just a plain black flag,” she replied. “Mean anything?”

Nassat rose as well. “Have they spotted us?” he asked the Khonhim.

“...perhaps,” he said, in an atypical voice. “It is a flag of parley.”

A sudden sinking feeling threatened to overwhelm him. “They are asking for our surrender.”

“No...I do not think so,” Jiyazh said. “If our pursuers had found us, they would not bother with such a convention. They would simply open fire.”

Nassat stared in confusion. “Then what?”

“I do not know,” Jiyazh said after a moment, “...but I believe someone should speak to him.” He turned to face Nassat. “By displaying the banner, he is guaranteeing safe conduct. Not even Chugaz Uydan himself would dare violate this custom.”

The Saurotaur considered that for a moment, and nodded. “If he has something to say, then we should hear his words,” Nassat agreed, “though I wonder how he found us.”

“Then let us ask him,” Jiyazh said with a crooked smile, as the two of them began heading for the building’s entrance.

“...not without me, you’re not,” Sergeant Lin said, as he appeared out of nowhere. Nassat and Jiyazh stared at him dumbfounded, as he hefted his weapon. “Tango sent me a feed of your conversation,” he explained. “We have...an understanding, you might say.”

Nassat raised a questioning eyebrow, as Jiyazh chuckled. “By all means, we welcome your company, Sergeant,” his eyes twinkling with good humor, as the three of them stepped out of the warehouse.

It was a short walk to the low hill where the lone warrior waited. He gazed at the three of them...Human, Saurotaur, and fellow Khonhim...before turning his attention to the latter. “Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz,” he said. “I have been searching for you.”

“I am no longer Dhyaksh,” he replied. “Why have you sought me out, under a banner of parley?”

A cold smile appeared on his face. “My name is Azhum Ganakh. I believe we should talk...that is if you wish to defeat Chugaz Uydan.”