Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 649
without water or food, we’ll all be dead in a week." He sat
back and folded his arms. "Kill us all now. I won’t command
my men to march themselves to death."
The Wind hissed. "You will not die. We will provide
sustenance along the way. And we will move parts of your
army in relay. We cannot move all, so some must march."
"Move my army? In relays?" Lavin shook his head--a
mistake. As the world spun, he said, "What madness are you
talking about?"
The Wind bunched its hand into a fist, shredding the
map. "Look! Do not disbelieve this one! That is how we will
relay your men. That is how you will be fed." It stood,
knocking its chair over, and pointed at the sky.
Six horizontal crescents, their tops lit by the square sun
far above, hung outside the pyramid of blue sky. He hadn’t
noticed the vagabond moons before, what with everything else
going on. He swore under his breath.
"Part of your army will rest as it is carried ahead. At the
drop point you will meet it, and supplies will also be provided.
Some of those who have marched will then embark for the next
leg. In this way you will march from here to the Titan’s Gates
without stopping."
In one day. One endless day. Lavin slumped back,
stunned.
"Our own army will meet you there."
"Your army?" With every word it spoke, the Wind
became more terrifying.
"The pathology has already begun to infect the mecha
and geosphere. If it conquers the desalination nexus it will
have an almost impregnable fortress."
The Wind stepped away from the table. "That is all.
You have your orders."