Read Online War Master's Gate by Adrian Tchaikovsky - Free Book Online

‘Engineers, and come with some fresh artillery for you.’ He jerked a thumb at the larger man standing
behind him. Tynan saw a stocky Bee-kinden, older than Oski, younger than Tynan himself, dark-skinned and flat-faced but with none of the sullen slave mindset that he was used to seeing in Bees. He
wore a uniform of halved black and gold, but with an engineer’s insignia at the chest.
    ‘Captain-Auxillian Ernain,’ Oski named him. ‘He’s my second.’ He waited to see if Tynan would make something of that, because an Auxillian engineer holding that
rank was a fair-sized stone likely to cause ripples.
    ‘As long as he knows what he’s doing,’ Tynan remarked, because for him it was competence that was the paramount military virtue.
    ‘That he does, sir. I’ve orders for you, also.’ The little man handed over a sealed package. ‘How do you like our entrance, by the way?’ He seemed very pleased with
himself.
    ‘You must have been very sure of your escort, Major,’ Tynan noted, breaking the seal. ‘We were all set to pick over your corpses, since the Air Corps has failed me
before.’ He fixed the small major with a scowl before breaking the seal.
    The orders were unambiguous: more space was devoted to the stamps, codes and signatures of authenticity than to the Empress’s will.
    ‘We’re to march,’ Tynan announced, his eyes seeking out Oski’s. ‘What the pits am I supposed to do about their air power, Major? I can assure you, unless those
Farsphex have some new sky-clearing secret weapon, they’ll not win the skies over Collegium. Perhaps Capitas underestimates just how tenacious the Beetles are, land or air.’
    ‘I’m just artillery, sir,’ Oski said with an easy shrug, an engineer passing up on another man’s problem. ‘I’ve been knocking walls down since the Twelve-year
War and I’m looking forward to Collegium getting within greatshotter range.’
    ‘So was your predecessor,’ Tynan warned him. ‘And the fact of your being here should tell you how
that
went. How many . . .’ He stopped then, because a new voice
was addressing his guards outside.
    ‘Inside, now,’ he snapped, and his new pilot officer ducked into the tent, shouldering Ernain the Bee aside.
    Tynan registered the captain’s insignia and the pilot’s chitin helm and goggles dangling from the belt. In truth, he should have been ready for the rest of it, but still required a
moment to recover his balance before he acknowledged the salute.
    ‘Captain Bergild reporting for duty, sir,’ said the Air Corps officer, a Wasp-kinden woman aged no more than twenty. But, of course, the older pilots had mostly died over Collegium
in trying to break the Beetles’ air defences. The supply of new pilots ready for combat was limited, and the Empire could not stand on ceremony when throwing them into the fray. But of course
. . .
    Of course the new pilots, that insular elite, were those possessing the Art that Ant-kinden took for granted, but which Wasps developed so rarely. They could speak mind to mind, these pilots,
and that was the secret of their skill every bit as much as their improved machines and training. The mindlinking Art was hard to find, these days, after generations of it being rooted out. Anyone
who possessed it – no matter who they were and despite centuries of Wasp traditions – was required to fly. There had been women in the last batch, and one of them had given her life
trying to defend the Second when the Stormreaders came.
    The newcomer was staring at him almost defiantly, and he guessed that she had endured her share of hostility in getting where she was and that, to be made leader of pilots over Wasp men, she
must be very good at her job.
    ‘Sir,’ she repeated, waiting for his response, and he finally managed to remember his maxim –
competence above all
– and demanded of her, ‘Where’s
the rest of you? What can I do with this handful, now that I’ve been ordered forwards?’