The closest tech saw David, spun around, stood, and saluted nervously as if not quite sure how to handle the unexpected visit. One by one the other three followed suit.
“As you were, gentlemen,” David said. “It’s been a long day, and as you may have heard, Major Rukin won a great victory in the hills. He’s downstairs celebrating, getting what he deserves.” David smiled, a truly genuine smile. “Take a break. Join him in the mess. There’s food, drink… and the spoils of war. New arrivals.” David motioned to his men. “We’ll take this shift.”
The techs mumbled their thanks and hopped up from their stations. A colonel’s orders were the best opening they would get to skip out on a shift.
When the men had left, David’s soldiers took their places at the consoles. David looked at the screens suspiciously. “You sure you all know how to work these things?”
“Yes, sir. I worked the day shift for a few months when I was first transferred.”
Kamau circled the room, handing each of the soldiers a cup of coffee. He joined David and the two of them stood for a moment, staring into the night. David thought it spoke well of him that he said nothing. After a few minutes, Kamau simply held up his watch: twenty-two hundred hours. David activated his radio. “All stations report.” One by one, the men checked in, their voices crackling in David’s earpiece. He waited for the last piece of the puzzle to click. The men had taken names from the Trojan War; they had all decided that David’s call sign would be Achilles.
“Achilles, Ajax. The Trojans are in the banquet hall. We’ve begun the feast.”
Begun the feast was code for locked them in and deployed the gas.
“Copy, Ajax,” David said. He walked out of the command tower and down to the first landing. Again he held the flashlight up and clicked it. By the time he returned to the command center, the explosions along the perimeter had begun. Fire and plumes of smoke rose above the outer wall. The three men at the command station worked the radios and computers.
The screens revealed the scene. Waves of horseback riders besieged the wall. The automatic guns at the towers mowed rows of the riders down, but still they came, charging relentlessly.
A tech turned to David. “Tower Two wants authorization to use the rail gun.”
Kamau glanced over at David.
The rail guns would decimate the Berber forces. Authorizing their use, however, would be very convincing to the troops, would prove the base was at risk.
David pointed to the sniper rifle at Kamau’s side. “Take them after the first shot.”
David walked to the command chair and activated the microphone. “Tower Two, this is Colonel Wells. The major has turned over command to me. Go weapons hot on rail gun delta and fire at will.” He deactivated the radio and waited. The rail gun sent a streak of fire into the night and a geyser of earth and blood exploded into the air, leaving a black cloud where horses and soldiers had been a second before. Everything seemed silent for a moment after that. David hoped the Berbers would keep coming. He needed them to.
On the landing below, David heard three shots ring out in rapid succession. The rail gun fell silent.
David clicked the microphone on the control panel again. “Battalions one, two, and three, move into zone one. I repeat, Battalions one, two, and three, this is Ceuta Command, outer wall is at risk, move into zone one and take up position.”
Almost immediately, David saw motion in the citadel and the ring beyond. Troops pounded the ground, the inner gate opened, and trucks rushed through it. The Berbers pressed the attack and the battle grew more intense.
“Command, Tower One. Tower Two is down, repeat Tower Two is down.”
“Copy, Tower One,” one of David’s men said. “We’re aware. Reinforcements are inbound.”
Almost a minute after David’s order, the area below the wall was filled with Immari soldiers, almost four thousand of them. This was the moment David had planned, their one opportunity to take the base. His hands shook slightly, and in that moment, he wondered if he could do it. What if he couldn’t? There was no turning back now.
The technicians looked back at him, each knowing what came next. Finally, one man quietly said, “Awaiting your order, sir.”
Mass murder. The death of four thousand men—soldiers. Enemy soldiers. Monsters, David told himself. But they couldn’t all be monsters. Just people on the other side of this fight, people who had been unlucky enough, whose circumstance had made them his enemy.
All David had to do was say the words. The tech would push the buttons, the mines below the wall would arm, the improvised explosives would detonate, and hell would break loose. Thousands of soldiers—people—would die.
“There will be no order,” David said.