Later that night, before saying his good-byes. Brigadier Sturgeon turned to Chairman Khong. "I have one question for you, Mr. Chairman. Who's going to take over Lori's government? Just curious."
"Ah, under our laws the firstborn of the same parents automatically inherits their estates when both predecease. But since Lori's only son is dead, it all devolves on his firstborn offspring. That would be young Hway. The actual reins of government will remain in the hands of a regent until she attains her majority at age twenty-five. Until then she'll be carefully coached in the art of statecraft and the business of managing the Staat of Morgenluft. Then she will sit with us on the Council. She is a beautiful and accomplished young woman, Brigadier."
"Yes, Mr. Chairman, so I've heard, so I've heard." Goddamn, he thought. Lance Corporal Dean has seduced an oligarch!
Chapter Twenty-One
It took two and a half hours for all the Marines to assemble in the hollow peak. They took off their helmets as they sat so they could be more easily seen. Bass and vanden Hoyt refused even to hint to the early arrivals why they'd been called away from preparations to find the guerrillas. So some of them had to sit and stew until Bladon, Goudanis, and Lonsdorf showed up. They hadn't had the farthest to travel, but three deep ravines had slowed them down considerably. They were drenched with sweat when they finally clambered over the lip of the hollow.
Corporal Bladon saw immediately that they were the last ones in. "What's up, boss?" he asked brightly despite his weariness.
Bass and vanden Hoyt looked at each other. They hadn't discussed who should give the news to the men. Bass made a gesture deferring to the officer. Vanden Hoyt nodded and looked briefly at each of the Marines of the third platoon before he spoke.
"I want you all to know," he began slowly, "that I think, Staff Sergeant Bass and I think, that you've done an outstanding job with the 257th Feldpolizei."
There were a few murmurs and the Marines glanced at each other. This didn't sound like a briefing for the operation they were about to launch. Most of them thought there was something ominous about what vanden Hoyt was saying. It was as though he was disagreeing with someone else's opinion of their performance. They steeled themselves for the bad news coming.
"Two months ago," vanden Hoyt continued, "you began working with a paramilitary unit that suffered from low morale, defective tactics, and," he glanced apologetically at the Wanderjahrian officers present, "poor leadership. During these two months you gave the 257th strong leadership, taught them winning tactics, and raised their morale. You have turned them into an effective fighting force. I salute you, Marines." He put his words to action—he came to attention and saluted the men of third platoon. He studied them for a moment, those thirty Confederation Marines. He and Charlie Bass were the only ones above the rank of three-stripe sergeant. Most of the men were PFCs and lance corporals, junior enlisted men. But they had served in positions far above they pay grades, and they had performed magnificently. He felt honored that his first command as a Marine officer was of a unit so good. It didn't cross his mind that during the same two months, he and his platoon sergeant had functioned as a battalion commander and executive officer, several positions above their own ranks.
"Our operation is concluded. Hostilities were declared ended at 0930 hours this morning."
Pandemonium broke out as the Marines jumped to their feet. Some shouted questions, others hooted in glee, more shook each other's hands and pounded each other's backs. Most of them were glad the operation was over before they went into the caves; they knew how deadly that would have been. A few were disappointed; they'd wanted to see how well their FPs would function in this harrowing type of operation.
Bass bellowed and silence thumped down on the hollow. "Some of you asked questions in that melee," Bass said. "Well, if you'll shut up and listen, I've got some answers." He glowered at them, but the glower was a facade, disguising how proud he was of his men's performance. "Third platoon, Company L, 34th FIST, is one of the best outfits I've served with in my twenty-plus years as a Marine. But," he shook his head, "it wasn't us who won this campaign." He paused for a moment to allow the men to express their disbelief. "You're not going to want to believe this," he held up a hand to get their attention again, "but it was a bunch of headquarters pukes who won it."
There were shouts and howls from the men, but Bass raised his voice and talked over them. "FIST HQ, in cooperation with the civilian police experts who came with us, conducted a comprehensive investigation. They also managed to make contact and open discussions with the highest levels of the PLA leadership. The guerrillas weren't responsible for all the troubles that were going on. At 0930 hours this morning, Brigadier Sturgeon and Chief Long arrested Ruling Council Chairman Arschmann and Oligarch Keutgens for various crimes, including treason and the attempted murder of Confederation citizens. The brigadier and the chief laid down new rules, which the remaining oligarchs agreed to. Peace talks between the Ruling Council and the PLA are scheduled to begin. We're through."
Bass stood arms akimbo, looking at his men. Aside from a few grimaces, the men didn't express any of the disgust or chagrin he was afraid they might about the "headquarters pukes" winning the campaign.
"You did an outstanding job, Marines. And you gave the proper authorities the opportunity they needed to do what they had to to win this thing.
"Now, I want you to go back to your units and pull them back from the assault positions. Bring them to the designated rally point north of these badlands. Oh, and you may as well turn command back to the regular shift sergeants and platoon and company officers. We no longer have commissions in the Wanderjahr Feldpolizei. They were canceled when peace was declared. Squad leaders, stay behind for a moment."
"Commander," the Che Loi Brigade's intelligence officer said. "All of our observation and listening posts have reported in. I know where nearly all of the Feldpolizei are, though where the Confederation Marines are isn't fully clear." He pressed a button on the console to bring up the situation map. The entrances to the underground were marked on the map. Not all of the entrances went into the part of the cave complex the guerrillas used. The intelligence officer pushed another button and a red X appeared on more than half of the entrances. "We believe they are about to block those entrances with explosives." He pushed another button. Red circles appeared outside other entrances. "Those are Feldpolizei sections. All indications are that they will enter the complex at those locations."
Hing studied the map briefly and nodded. About half of the marked cave mouths led into short tunnels or single chambers rather than into the complex itself. Fully half of the entrances to the complex proper weren't marked at all. "They are going to have a very difficult time," he said. "Especially when they meet the weapon they don't know we have." He looked at Lieutenant Pincote. "Release the wolves," he said. "And report back to me immediately."
Pincote bared her pointed teeth in a tight grin. "Yes, Commander." And she was gone.
Hing turned his attention to the communications officer. "Do we have contact with anybody yet?"
"No, Commander. The ionosphere is still too disrupted for signals to bounce, and we haven't been able to break the ciphers that would allow us to utilize the Confederation's string-of-pearls."
Hing grimaced. He would have liked to be able to communicate with the outside world, but it wasn't that important. Outside communications wouldn't make any difference in the coming fight. His nearly three hundred freedom fighters would be enough to defeat the three hundred Feldpolizei and their Confederation Marines. His three hundred fighters and the wolf pack.
First squad, minus Sergeant Hyakowa, headed southwest toward where they had left their FPs. Four kilometers from the hollowed peak the guerrillas called San Juan, they reached Van Impe's section and dropped him off in its thicket of unsightly conifers. The position overlooked a cave entrance into a long ridge. The cave mouth couldn't be seen from the position because of the trees, but patches of the ridge wall were vi
sible through breaks in the forest. The three fire team leaders split off there as well to continue on to their platoon HQ groups.
A few hundred meters farther Schultz said, "Let's look for more cave mouths," and angled closer to the ridge they were paralleling.
"Why?" MacIlargie objected. "Why do we need to look for more, we found all of them. Besides, the operation's off." Schultz continued looking at the ridge face. "Because this is a big area," Chan said patiently. "There's not many of us and we didn't have much time. We're bound to have missed some." He didn't want to look for more cave mouths any more than MacIlargie did, but if the guerrillas hadn't gotten the word about cessation of hostilities, some of them might come out looking for the Marines or the FPs. As long as the Marines were in the area, they had to know all the directions danger might come from. And all those coniferlike things along the face of the ridge could hide a lot of openings. Godenov and Doyle followed Schultz, but MacIlargie looked as if he might angle away until Chan jabbed a thumb toward his own collar. Then he stuck his arm out to point the way. Chan was simply reminding the junior man that he had rank and MacIlargie had to obey his orders. MacIlargie grumbled but he followed. Chan brought up the rear.
An almost clear strip from four to ten meters wide ran along the base of the ridge where running water and rocks falling from above had kept trees from taking root.
"Here's one," Schultz said when the others caught up with him. "Whose section is this in?" The cave mouth had been obscured by a small line of grospalm saplings and a rock overhang, but it was big enough for three men to enter abreast without ducking. Schultz pulled a paper map from a shirt pocket and made a mark on it. He gave MacIlargie an I-told-you-so look. MacIlargie looked blandly innocent.
Schultz moved out and the others trailed along.
Seventy-five meters farther, in a place where the clear strip was eight meters wide, Schultz found another cave mouth nobody had seen. This one was smaller, only one man could walk through it at a time, but no trees blocked it at all. He spat to the side in disgust. "I wonder how many more we didn't find."
Chan was horrified; it looked as if they hadn't found very many at all.
"What was that?" Doyle asked.
Chan didn't ask what, he simply listened and looked around. He saw the faces of a couple of the others hovering in midair above their chameleons; they were looking and listening. But the mass of coniferlike trees in front of him was so dense that he couldn't see more than a few meters into them.
The sound came again. A clipped growl or a short bark. Maybe a low-register chirp. Another basso profundo chirp answered it.
"What is that?" Doyle rasped.
Schultz hissed at him to be quiet.
A twig snapped, but not where the chirps were coming from.
"At least three," Chan said softly.
"Four," Schultz replied. Strain showed in his voice. He lifted his left hand to his helmet and lowered the chameleon screen. Of all the shields the Marines had in their helmets, the chameleon was the one they used the least. All of the others gave them information or aided their vision, but left their faces exposed to view. The chameleon screen hid the face the same as the body, but it also obscured vision. Schultz used his less often than most. None of the other Marines immediately thought of their chameleon screens.
There was a rustling of ground cover that sounded closer than the chirps. Chan peered intently into the trees in the direction of the sound. After a moment he thought he saw a shadow that didn't look like it belonged to a tree, but he wasn't sure.
Doyle started to edge back toward the cave mouth. Godenov noticed the movement and began backing up as well.
More rustling came from very close by and an egg-shaped head poked from between two conifers, about two-thirds of a meter long and hanging two meters above the ground. Its open mouth exposed rows of sharp teeth. Its eyes were on the front of its face, like those of a tree-dweller—or a predator.
The animal stood motionless for a moment, apparently looking for something to its front. Then it turned its head to the side and peered for another moment before turning to the other side to look again. It moved its head in sharp jerks. It stepped forward once, pushing its way between the trees. It was similar to the tigers but stood more erect, and its forelegs were much bigger. Each foreleg ended in a three-fingered hand tipped with sharply pointed, in curved talons. Its powerful hind legs had four-toed feet with even bigger talons. A tapering tail more than two meters long jutted straight behind it. It began to walk forward, bobbing as it moved.
"Oh, shit," MacIlargie said softly.
The wolf froze and turned its head toward the sound. It seemed to see MacIlargie's face suspended in midair two meters away, almost close enough for it to stretch out its neck and snatch from the air. Nictitating membranes slid over its eyes and back, as though it was trying to clear its vision. It stretched its head forward on a neck thicker than a man's thigh. MacIlargie blinked at the hot breath that swept over his face. This was a mysterious thing the wolf saw, a chunk of meat hanging in the air without moving like a flier. Its throat rippled and a deep chirp came out of its mouth.
Chan watched the animal and realized it probably didn't have a sense of smell. It relied totally on sight and sound. He remembered then the helmet-mounted chameleon screens and carefully raised a hand to lower his. "Drop your chameleon screens," he said as soon as his was on the way down.
The wolf flicked its head toward the new sound. It cocked its head at an angle, puzzled about not seeing anything where the sound had come from. Then movement made it flick its head back toward the piece of meat hanging in the air. Another piece of meat approached the first piece and made a downward movement. The first piece of meat vanished. Then the second piece of meat dropped, disappearing long before it reached the ground. The wolf stood erect, a full three meters high. It blinked its nictitating membranes again.
"Slowly," Chan said quietly, "back toward the cave."
The wolf flicked its head toward the sound of his voice and lowered its body back to its search posture. It opened its mouth wide and let out a bass caw.
The caw was answered by a chorus of chirps and the thrashing of many bodies rushing through the coniferous brush. A half-dozen more wolves thrust their heads and shoulders out of the trees.
The first wolf's head bobbed and weaved, and its throat rippled and rolled rapidly as it emitted a series of chirps and caws. Then it lunged its head forward and snapped at the air where it had seen MacIlargie's face disappear.
But MacIlargie had moved by then.
Doyle and Godenov were already inside the cave when Chan reached the cave mouth. Chan dropped his infra shield into place under the chameleon screen so he could see the other Marines. One red blotch was within reach; it was MacIlargie. Chan grabbed his arm and shoved him through the cave mouth. Off balance from being manhandled, MacIlargie stumbled, his blaster clattered against the rock face of the ridge, and he grunted.
The wolves snapped their heads toward the sound. They all opened their mouths and cawed—they heard the sound of food.
"Inside," Schultz said to Chan. "I'll cover." The wolves scared him more than the tigers had. He had to defeat his fear of Wanderjahr's predators.
Hearing Schultz's voice, one wolf, perhaps hungrier than the others, darted toward it.
Schultz pressed the firing lever of his blaster and a bolt of plasma shot at the charging beast.
The wolf screamed several octaves higher than its chirps and caws as the plasma bolt blasted into its shoulder. It tried to skitter to a stop, but the momentum of its three hundred kilos was too great and it slammed into the ridge. Schultz barely managed to dive out of the way of the charge. The wolf staggered from the impact, then stood erect and shook itself. Smoke rose from its charred chest and its right foreleg was missing. The hide of its neck and the uncharred part of its chest bubbled with growing blisters, but it didn't bleed from its missing shoulder; the plasma had cauterized the wound. It cawed loudly, but th
e caw sounded uncertain. Then it took a wobbly step and lunged toward where Schultz had hit the ground when he dove out of its way. Schultz rolled.
Chan had stopped just inside the cave mouth to cover Schultz. He hadn't been able to fire when the wolf charged because Schultz was in his line of fire. He hadn't shot the animal when Schultz dove out of the way because he thought Schultz's hit would kill it. Then he was frozen with disbelief when the animal stood up and shook off its massive injuries. When the wolf made its second attack, Chan's first shot hit it in the belly and burned away the side of its abdominal wall. A loop of bowel dropped to the ground and tripped the wolf. It raised its head as it began to fall forward. Chan's second shot took it in the head, and momentarily the great beast was haloed in fire. It lifted its head to let out a cry of agony, but no sound came out of its seared lungs. Chan clearly heard bones in its skull pop from the heat of the flames that enveloped its head. The wolf crashed to the ground.
Schultz screamed. He'd rolled out of the way, but not far enough or fast enough. The wolf s chin smashed down onto his legs and one stiletto tooth pierced his thigh. He struggled to free himself, but the animal's head was too heavy for him to lift.
"Hang on, Hammer!" Chan shouted. "I'm coming." With two bounds he was alongside Schultz. He slung his blaster on his shoulder to free both hands to lift the massive head. "Ow!" He jerked his hands off the blistering hot skull. "Hold on, buddy." Chan unslung his blaster and slipped it under the wolf's chin. Grabbing the blaster on either side of the head, he yanked upward.
Schultz grunted in pain as the tooth pulled free and he scrambled out from underneath.
At first the other wolves had watched with passive interest while chirping at each other. But when the first wolf fell, they began dancing toward it. Then Chan's voice got their attention and they advanced faster, cawing at each other, their heads bobbing, flicking from side to side as they looked for the source of the interesting sounds. Two of them tore great gouts of flesh from the body of their fallen companion and swallowed them whole. Another snapped at the creature's feebly rising head, just missing Chan's hand.
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