I had meant to snap my head up and then instantly down, but I was frozen with my head up when I saw who was charging my new position. I think the defenders had been more dazed by the flash bombs than I realized, and were now distracted by an armored behemoth that was emerging from the sand below the cave mouth. Instead of a squad of bad guys rushing my position, I was staring at the Super Reverend Bishop of Port Zahir, and my wife. One had lost half his limbs and normally limped with a cane (he was obviously a crafty, lying veck and in that moment I loved him for it) and the other had been shot, but the flak armor visible beneath the shredded ruins of her wetsuit was now obvious. Talking of obvious, the ribbons tied to her headlumps streamed out behind her, a perfect invitation to any of the defenders looking for a brightly colored target to shoot at.
It appeared the capricious gods were smiling upon more than just the one idiot this morning, but capricious they were nonetheless, because no sooner had I gloried in our good fortune when two Levelers turned and noticed the bishop and Silky.
My mind snapped back into working order, my jaw closed and I pulled into my shoulder the junior carbine I’d looted from the fallen Leveler. I pointed the barrel at the pair of defenders intent on gunning down Silky and the bishop. I took aim and…
And… and nothing. Again! I couldn’t pull the frakking trigger.
I cried a tear of frustration while I watched in agonizing slowness as Silky and the bish kept coming, oblivious to the two Levelers who had plenty of time to take careful aim and…
And then things got really confusing.
Someone behind me shot at the two Levelers and they fell. Dead.
Simultaneously, I sensed danger to my left. A Leveler was coming at me with a knife – I think she had been cowering amid the debris for safety but she was a combatant now. I could see the green poison oozing out of her blade tips. That’s the problem with limiting the use of guns, everyone seemed to have honed their knife skills.
I swung the stock of my carbine at her knife – causing the blade to clatter down to the cave floor, though I could barely hear because the metal thing birthing from the sands was shaking itself free with a whine of high-pitched motors. I continued my swing through 360 degrees – spotting other figures nearby on my way around – and on my second turn clubbed the Leveler on the side of her head. She crumpled in the way that said she wasn’t getting up any time soon.
Before I could turn to face whoever had shot the Levelers, strong arms pinned my arms behind me and caught me in a choke hold. Meaty hands cupped over my mouth and shuttered my eyes, though not before I glimpsed the pop-up defensive wall that had finally emerged, bristling with motorized turrets bearing large caliber cannons.
I thought I heard Silky protesting, but I was being dragged back through the sand and detritus and despite my best efforts to shake free without throttling myself, my ears were still pounding with the rush of having sprinted up the beach, and leaping over two lines of rocks. Just then the defensive platform opened up. I was deafened. These weren’t toy carbines, they were proper guns, and proper guns are loud.
I wasn’t sure if the broadsides from this micro-scale battleship could pound their way through the force shields, but they wouldn’t need to. It would only take a few salvos to gouge deep craters out of the sand, toppling the shields into them. After that, any flak armor the Sub-Aqua Club Catholics might have borrowed would offer as much protection as Caccamo’s beach shirt, and be considerably less likely to confuse targeting systems.
To be honest, I was a spent force, and I hadn’t a clue what was happening to us until I was dragged through a blast proof door set into the side of the cave. As soon as the door clanged shut, the noise level dropped significantly – as did I when the restraining hands let me go and I fell to my knees.
I found my balance and looked around. The world suddenly made a little more sense.
Not much, but this was a start.
— CHAPTER 25 —
Having Silky with me helped put my mind at ease. I didn’t recognize the four humans and a Littorane who had grabbed us, but her mind felt excitable, eager to carry the fight to the enemy, but not to the people who had snatched us. All in all, the omens were good that I wasn’t just about to suffer another beating.
“Sylk-Peddembal,” said a computer-translated voice behind me.
“Xamajeeli-Lek,” acknowledged Silky to the Pavnix who was standing behind me.
“Thank you,” I told the Pavnix, turning to look vaguely in its direction because most species like you to look their way when you talk. “Thank you for saving these two useless twonks who ran after me.”
A red highlight grew between the eyes of the Pavnix’s wedge-shaped head that it had extended toward me on its telescopic neck. The colorations spread and flashed across its face. I chose to interpret that as a happy sign.
The ugly alien wasn’t the only one to be happy. “I am most pleased to see you not dead,” Silky told me and squeezed my shoulder affectionately. It was the nicest thing she’d ever told me, although she spoiled it a little when her eyes defocused and she added, “Alpha, Beta Batteries, ready a 0.25 kiloton armor piercing barrage.”
“I have heavy weapons on the cliffs covering the entrance,” she explained to anyone who wasn’t keeping up with events. She paused, widening her eyes as she regarded me. “NJ, do I have a choice?”
I knew what she meant. She was talking about deploying GX-cannon, probably X-ray munitions too. In contrast to the not-very-lethal munitions that had covered our advance up the beach, this was a serious escalation, but out on the beach our Catholic army would be getting slaughtered. Revenge Squad policy was absolutely clear with regard to heavy weapons. They were kept in reserve for the ultimate emergencies, but in practice they were intended more as a deterrent than to be used, because if they were ever used it could spell the end of Revenge Squad. The authorities turned a blind eye to Revenge Squad’s antics when it suited them, but if we started tossing X-ray munitions around that blind eye would blink and suddenly its sight would become acute. The Civilian Defense Force would then take out Revenge Squad worldwide with extreme prejudice.
“There is a choice,” I said grimly. “And it is yours to make. I’ll back you whatever.”
“My people are dying,” pleaded Silky, and I yearned to hold her, to give her strength. But I’d never cuddled up to any of my Jotun officers in the war, and combat cuddling was an innovation too far for an old war dog like me.
“My people are dying,” the bishop corrected her.
“Nonetheless, they are my responsibility,” said Silky. “Alpha, Beta Batteries, commence firing on my mark.”
“Stop!” shouted the Pavnix, not understanding that once Silky had made up her mind, no mortal force in the galaxy could change it.
“Three… Two…” She never got to ‘one’ on account of I put my finger to her lips.
“I trust Old Leaky Veck,” I told her. “I trust it enough for five seconds. Hear it out for that long.”
“Finally,” huffed the Pavnix. “Someone with a little sense of honor, and I find it within a human of all things. NJ McCall, what do you think my team have been up to since I left you in the tunnels?”
“I don’t care,” I snapped back. “People are dying. Tell us now why we shouldn’t open fire.”
“Because your people are not dying.”
Silky and I must’ve looked a right picture as we blinked at each other in confusion.
“Probably not dying,” added the Pavnix, just to put our minds at rest. “My people have been hacking the targeting systems of the defensive platform that has just deployed. The actual target range set into the weapons is triple what the targeting systems are reporting to the gunners, and elevation is 18° higher than they realize. The gaibolga gulls out in the bay are suffering but your people, Bishop, are safe.”
“Maybe,” said the bishop, “but your HUB people are not stupid. When the Smart Smoke clears, they will soon realize and compensate accordingly.�
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“I hope not too soon,” said the Pavnix.
Silky screamed in anger.
I’d never heard that before. It was a low alto pitch, but with the fierce intensity of an unbridled scream. “I need better than hope,” she shouted. “I need facts, and words are too slow.”
She reached her long fingers inside the folds of her tattered clothing and fished out the cable we used to connect our minds. But this intimacy wasn’t for me. Not this time. She plugged one end into the port on her neck, as normal. The Pavnix extended its horizontal neck, allowing Silky to plug the other end of the cable into a socket beneath its squared off chin.
Don’t act so jealous, snapped Bahati. It’s demeaning for the rest of us.
I’m not jealous, I replied. Just surprised. I thought that when Silky and I made the connection across species boundaries, we were doing something unique.
I looked to the two engaged in wideband conferencing while the rest of us stood around like unneeded functionaries. The Pavnix’s HUB loyalists tolerated the bishop and me, and I ignored them in turn. I directed my energies instead at the bishop formerly known as Hot Sauce.
— CHAPTER 26 —
I stared at the Bishop of Port Zahir.
Frankly, I didn’t know what to make of the former X-Boat pilot. The limp had been discarded and the old space rat had sprinted up the beach like an athlete. He seemed to be on first name terms with a lot of shady people with guns. Most of all, he had not only listened when I urged him to muster a scratch army of his worshippers, but he’d actually gone and frakking done it. I had never been short of ideas when I’d served with the 801st Muleheads, and people had paid attention to me then, but this was the first time anyone had done so since I arrived on this planet. I didn’t altogether like the notion. If people started taking me seriously, I might have to start being responsible. Still, he’d saved my life and I probably ought to appear grateful.
I cleared my throat and gave it my best shot. “Thank you for seeing sense and taking my advice to tool up and join the good fight.”
The bishop raised a luxuriant eyebrow. “Your wife is persuasive, and I had the sense that someone greater was speaking through both of you.”
I laughed at the ridiculous implication. “I’ll take whatever allies I can get. But what the hell were you thinking of following me up the beach and through the defenses? I’m hoping you brought plasma grenades with you. No? At least a flenser carbine?”
“NJ, I’m here because I’m concerned for your soul. I am armed only with the truth.”
“Mader Zagh, Bish! Cut the wixering chodder. You saw me charge and followed on instinct. You must have felt like you were back in the Second Battle of Khallini, on a torpedo run against our capital ships. Deny it!”
The bishop lowered his head. “It is true.” He ducked as a round ricocheted off the far side of the blast door.
I felt a familiar quickening in my gut. I had fought for the Imperial faction at Khallini, against the upstart Human Legion. But that was long ago, and I had grown to love the Legion’s Navy rats. They are a foulmouthed lot, but once you know how to speak the right kind of filth, they make a lot of sense.
“NJ,” growled the Bishop of Port Zahir.
“What?”
“Leave the metaphysical drent to me, you wixering pig-licking drellock and help your wife to take out the bad guys.”
“Right.”
I glanced at Silky, who was still plugged into Leaky Veck. “She’s a little busy with her new best friend,” I said.
In the awkward silence that followed, I had that itching sensation telling me I was being stupid about something important. The Sarge picked up on this and ordered me to debrief the bishop. I know I was having a very bad day, what with everyone trying to torture and kill me, but I was embarrassed that I hadn’t thought to ask the obvious question until then.
“So, er, what exactly is the plan?” I asked the bishop.
“My people make a demonstration. Flush the Levelers out for the reception awaiting them at the rear escape hatches. The police are waiting there, their numbers heavily reinforced by my monks.”
Police? Someone had been busy. And smart.
The bishop bit his space rat lip. “The problem is, we weren’t expecting such resistance and my people won’t shoot to kill.”
“And I did not expect you to win allies from within HUB itself,” said Silky. She unplugged and I bathed in the warmth of her admiration. Admittedly, she had started with low expectations of me but, damn it, she was right. I had done good.
“Will you fight with us?” I asked the Pavnix.
“The mental link through the cable is effective,” it replied. “I worked with Kurlei scouts many times during the war, as your wife worked with my kind. It makes it possible to trust.” It looked at me a funny way, tilting a head that had suddenly acquired a sky blue tinge. I wondered what secrets had it learned about me… and about Silky. “Yes,” said the alien, “we shall be allies.”
“Good,” I replied, “then stop all this jibber jabber and start acting like the soldier you once were. What are you all waiting for?” I shot a look at the bishop. “Please tell me we’re not waiting for divine intervention.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” said Silky. “We are waiting for Xamajeeli-Lek’s team of HUB loyalists to muster.”
“And then do we attack?”
“Yes, NJ. Then we fight.”
— CHAPTER 27 —
I detest waiting.
The crump of heavy gunfire from the pop-up battleship shook choking clouds of dust into the stuffy air of the chamber, which was devoid of anything except we handful of useless non-combatants, and the suffocating knowledge that we were doing nothing.
A door opened. Not the blast door I’d been dragged through, but one leading into the interior of the base.
I realize then how fatigued I was, because I hadn’t even noticed the door. Or armed myself.
Leaky Veck’s HUB people had no such problem and got ready to blast away at whoever appeared.
The door swung fully open to reveal a young human woman in an orange-and-brown-patterned flak vest, hair the size of a stellar nebula, and loaded up with a SA-75(h) GX Mobile Mini Cannon, essentially a halfway house between the SA-71 and the tripod mounted GX-Cannon. Needless to say, given the mini gun weighed 180 pounds, she was of Marine heritage.
“Thank God,” she said, which made me wonder how busy the bishop had been hereabouts. “It’s all in place, Lieutenant Xamajeeli-Lek.”
I almost wilted with relief. I decided I liked this woman, and it would have been a shame to see her blasted to bloody rags.
“We are as ready as we’re going to be,” she added ducking through the door and bringing five more HUB people in her wake.
Apparently, at this point I should be noting the way her leggings emphasized the refined muscles of her sturdy legs, and how the mini-gun’s backpack of hi-tech death gave her an aura of extreme danger that I rather liked. But I can’t because I hadn’t noticed any such details. When the bishop kicked me in the butt and reminded me I was married, I hotly protested my innocence.
Simultaneously, Silky and Leaky Veck turned to regard me.
“Her name is Ithlenief,” said the Pavnix.
“Who?” I protested.
“If you both survive this day,” said Silky, “I would recommend you attempt human mating with her. However, I will warn you that Xamajeeli-Lek says you are at least a century too old for her tastes.”
I glared at my wife. “Will you two freaks stop going all alien on me and focus?”
The Pavnix pulled a device from a belt slung around its neck. Meanwhile, Ithlenief alternated between aiming the business end of her mini-gun at me and at Silky, unsure who to riddle with supersonic darts first. She had to be the sniper Shahdi had described as arousing even Chikune’s notice.
“Excuse the one with the lumpy head,” I told the young fighter. “She’s not normally allowed out amongst humans withou
t a chaperon in case she says something stupid.”
“I was thinking of you,” Silky shot back hotly. “I felt the sexual response building in your subconscious.”
She’s right, said Bahati. It was getting pretty steamy in here.
Before I could curse my misfortune at having my subconscious on display to everyone but myself, the gods proved they were still smiling on me. The Pavnix thumbed the device in its hand and an explosion rang out in the main cave that threw us all to the dirt.
— CHAPTER 28 —
We emerged through the blast door and into a silence so thick it was as if the force of the explosion had blown all sound from the cave. The defensive platform, which should be pulverizing anything living on the beach, instead listed like an ironclad battleship holed beneath the surface. Flames licked around the bases of the rotating turrets mounted with large caliber guns pointing uselessly at the sky.
The Pavnix, who had put on an impressive turn of speed, now halted. Its face turned banana yellow. “We’ve only had that bastard operational for two months,” it said. “We still owe millions on the debt.”
Even through the toneless computer translation, I could feel the alien’s pain.
“My friends, we are here to flush out the defenders,” the bishop reminded us. “Many of them are good people, merely poorly led. If you murder them, the stain of their deaths shall be upon your souls.”
I think the bishop was getting ahead of himself – typical fighter pilot – because defenders still manned the two rock walls and our Revenge Squad prisoners were pressed up against the far cave wall, guarded by a half-dozen Levelers.
Some of the Levelers along the defensive walls noticed us, and we took cover amongst the scattered rocks and debris. The defenders looked dazed and nervous. No one was firing at the moment, and with our appearance to their rear, some of the Levelers began to look longingly at the three exits that led deeper into the base.
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