The first thing that struck Sean upon their arrival back in the Havoc central cavern was the perfumed air.
He should have expected it. He had noticed the grove of trees when he passed through, hunting. Dillon stood behind a line of shrubbery that hid him from the palace ramparts. The trees formed a living barrier between the shrubs and the town fronting the central keep. A stream ran between the trees and the village. Sean had to assume it was driven by underground pumps. The sight was as ostentatious a display of wealth as the grove. Most of the trees were blooming varieties, and many branches were heavy with fruit. The fragrance was jarring. Sean noticed the dry, acrid smell of the lifeless caverns most intensely now.
Logan, Dillon, and the officers had split their troops into three groups. Half of the local transiters were spread in a semicircle with Logan and Dillon at its center. Their aim was to gather ammo in the form of rocks and hardware, and maintain high alert. Any newcomer who popped into view, grey suited or not, was to be annihilated.
Nicolette stepped over, saluted Brodwyn, and told Sean, “My teams are ready and all have the same order. Protect your brother at all costs.”
Vance’s group was stationed farther away, sheltered behind an outcrop from the cavern wall. The stone walls were ornately carved and rimmed by mock pillars. When Brodwyn asked what they were, Logan replied, “The Havoc crest forms the centerpiece of each side. The chamber probably serves as a family shrine.”
Vance’s team was already busy taking rocks and earth and small shrubs and flinging them at the palace. Most of their energy was directed at the parapets and town’s guard towers. Massive holes along the castle’s outer wall suggested former gun placements that had been obliterated.
Vance stepped over to the officers, his grin making a mockery of his salute. “We haven’t seen a head, much less a weapon, in far too long.”
Gerrod’s troops were arrayed in skirmish teams surrounding both groups of transiters. They kept up a constant barrage of small-arms fire at the palace ramparts and the town’s guard towers.
Brodwyn stared up at the vast yellow-stone edifice. “Tiko’s forebears were the most brutal of the Cygnean pirates. They smuggled, they pillaged, they used the Outer Rim as their base.”
Gerrod said, “They still teach the battle tactics used to defeat the Havoc pirate fleet at officer’s academy.”
Logan stared at the palace with bleak intent and did not speak.
“They’ve got a lot to answer for,” Brodwyn said. She laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder and said, “Sean tells me you have suffered a great loss.”
He seemed to maintain control only with great effort. “She was my first and closest friend.”
“There is nothing that can be said to fill the empty void caused by losing a friend in battle,” Brodwyn said. “But enduring this is part of being a true leader. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Logan did not respond.
“I find it necessary, tragic as it may sound, to observe this trait in my subordinates before appointing them to high command.” Her hand lifted once and settled back. “It is an honor to serve with you.”
Logan managed, “Thank you, General.”
Sean gave that a moment, then said to Dillon, “Time for phase two.”
Carver stepped up to Dillon and said, “May I offer my support?”
“Absolutely.” Dillon revealed a warrior’s grin. “Let’s go wake the guy up.”