By the time Herod set Anna down on the  mesa, the fighting was mostly over. Much like the Neighbors at the  citadel, the leaderless dragon riders were brave but disorganized. The 119th were disciplined and coordinated. They made short work of  the enemy.
                              A few hundred dragon riders managed to  escape into the distance. Most died, their bodies joining debris from both the BV Isaiah  as litter atop the mesa. The legionnaires were  bloody and tired from hours of hard fighting, but only a few had fallen.
                              When it was clear the battle was over,  the 119th spread out across the mesa to rebuild. There were massive  piles of salvage left over from the Isaiah, plus a camp to set up and wounded and dead to tend to. Most importantly, the battle-weary women desperately needed to rest.
                              Herod flew overhead until she located  Lucifera, huddled over another legionnaire. This woman hadn't  fought quite as well: a bolt of burning plasma had taken off her right  arm and leg, leaving behind only charred strands of twisted flesh and  melted metal. The girl's breathing was labored and her skin flushed.
                              "Bad day," Lucifera sighed, nodding sadly at the landing Herod. "Bad fucking day."
                              "Could be worse, ma'am," Herod replied. "We're still alive."
                              "Mmm." Lucifera touched her own lips.  "That girl on the ground is Centurion Tiglath. I've known her for  decades. She fought in The Cenotaph War, all the feuds against the  Neighbors. Decorated for heroism on Nemesis and Haeton. There are less  than a hundred survivors of the original 119th, and she's one of them.  Big fan of, uh... what was it?"
                              "Candles," said Zabda, who had  Tiglath's head in her lap, stroking the dying girl's hair. Her cheeks  were streaked with tears. "She made candles in her spare time."
                              "Fucking weirdo." Lucifera laughed  hollowly. "So fucking dumb. Fight like a hero for decade upon decade,  and then make one little mistake and, whoops, there goes half your body.  We dunno what to do with her."
                              Herod frowned. "I'm not sure I understand, ma'am."
                              "Ordinarily, a girl loses limbs, we  send her back to the fleet and they give her prosthetics." Lucifera  pointed to a legionnaire Herod didn't know who had two metal arms. "But  we can't get to the fleet, now can we?"
                              They couldn't. Herod joined the  silence that was only interrupted by Tiglath's heavy breathing. Lucifera  finally turned around. "Zabda, do what you can to make her comfortable.  We'll figure it out later."
                              "Yes ma'am."
                              The four colonels were together in the  midst of a hushed but intense argument. Sheba was in Amalek's face,  waving her finger in his face. "Arrogant, reckless little brat!" she  snarled. "The fuck were you thinking?"
                              "That I was the only one here with a plan," Amalek replied, his gaze steely and unwavering. "A successful plan, mind you."
                              "Your 'successful plan' left four  thousand lizards and their mounts alive. If we didn't have that demon of  a Mater, we'd be the ones strewn dead across this mesa, not Romeo."
                              Ruth tried to interject herself  between the two of them. "Let's all cool down," she said softly. "Amalek  did his best, and none of us had a better suggestion. It may well be  that there was no tactic that could have won the day."
                              Amalek stared at Ruth. "What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
                              "J-just that it was a desperate situation. And your plan, um, it was good- but Sheba's right, it didn't... completely work."
                              Amalek's face turned red. "And what did you do that was so useful in this battle, colonel?"
                              Ruth pursed her lips and looked away  nervously. Tamar intervened. "Careful, runt," she rumbled. "Don't take  your frustration with your own failure out on Ruthy."
                              "That's rich," Amalek snorted.  "Considering your job was to coordinate the attack, Colonel Tamar.  And yet your offensive was only half as effective as you swore it'd be-  and that's my fault?"
                              "It is your fault!" Sheba shot. "What did you do, exactly? Ruth's no ace in her armor, but neither are you- hell, you're the worst in the entire legion."
                              "This legion has two thousand meatheads, it needs at least one person  to do some thinking," Amalek growled. "That's fine- but what I find  odious are stupid people who've tricked themselves into thinking they're  smart like you, Sheba."
                              "Hey," said Lucifera exhaustedly. "Can you four chill the hell out?"
                              The four colonels looked at the boss  and bowed their heads in apology. "Sorry ma'am," said Tamar. "We're  just, uh, stressed. Got some bad news."
                              Lucifera cocked an eyebrow. "Go on."
                              ((AN: War is a lot like college. You don't get a lot of sleep, you don't drink enough water, and you're always wasting time arguing with your friends.))
                                      
                                          
                                  
                                              YOU ARE READING
BEACON- Part of the TORCH Saga
Science Fiction"IN EVERY CLIME, A SHINING SIGNAL" Herod is a woman with no past and no future. All she can do is fight, and that means she fits in perfectly in the elite 119th "Lightning" Legion as they land on an alien backwater where nothing seems to add up. Th...
