“Damn woman,” Jack said, and picked up another Iteeche rocket launcher for himself.
“The yellow rounds are smoke,” Kris said. “I don’t know what color. The white rounds are like anti-tank, or so he told me.”
Jack checked his present load, found it smoke, and looked around for something more deadly. Another Iteeche began struggling to detach his pouch. The Marine life saver detached it for him and handed it to Jack.
“Heavy damn thing,” he said.
Jack tried to attach the pouch to his belt, but it wasn’t made to fit. The Marine taking care of the wounded pulled web gear off of an Iteeche who was long past pain and handed it to Jack. An Iteeche belt quickly became a shoulder strap for a human.
Lieutenant Longknife just shook her head, muttered something about damn Longknifes and went down the line quickly, selecting a rocket launcher and swapping her satchel of smoke grenades for a sack of rocket magazines.
While Jack had been making his final preparation, Kris had decided on a test of concept. Laying prone, with the weapon pointed at an angle to protect her rear from as much back blast as possible, she squeezed off a round at the burning limo.
The explosion was noisy and what was left of the limo flew far and wide.
“So, Longknife, how do you want to do this?”
Kris tasted the way Jack’s words demoted her from admiral or even wife to just one of those damn Longknifes.
“Marine, you got any explosives for your pop gun?” Kris asked the grenadier.
“Yes, ah, Admiral, I got general purpose demolition charges as well as anti-tank for all the good it’s been doing me.”
“Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Keep the smoke up, but not too thick. Toss explosive grenades off to the right of where you think the tank is. I want its attention over there. Us crazy Longknifes and the general are going to head out from the left-hand side of this truck and crawl until we see the damn thing. Hopefully we’ll be coming up on the opposite side from where you’re dropping grenades. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am, but Admiral, shouldn’t I be the one going tank hunting and you stay behind here?” said the wounded Marine.
“Ah, from the mouths of privates,” Jack grumbled.
“What, and let you have all the fun?” Kris shot back, giving Jack a dirty look as she spoke. “It’s been years since I got to blow up any shit. I’m pulling rank, private.”
The private looked Kris up and down like she was crazy, but what could you expect from officers?
A new burst of machine gun fire drew the Marine’s attention back front. She lobbed a smoke grenade, then, before it could really do much good, yanked out her magazine, popped in a different one, and fired a second grenade. It landed in the middle distance with a nice boom. The grenadier measured her range and sent a second round out. It exploded just short of the smog bank.
Rapid bursts of machine gun fire answered the explosions, but none of them stitched the ground in Kris’s view.
“Let’s see how this works,” Kris said, and lead the way toward the other end of the truck.
“Can I at least go first?” Jack said.
“Of course, Love,” Kris said.
But it was Megan who quickly slung the Iteeche weapon over her shoulder before slipping down. She took a peek out from behind the bottom of the truck, then began low crawling out to the left.
Jack waited until she was a good twenty meters out, then settled down on his belly and began the same slow process. Left last in line, Kris decided, rather than slinging the Iteeche rocket launcher over her back, she’d cradle it in her elbows and inch forward, one elbow, then another.
It didn’t take her long to realize she’d spent way too much time behind a desk.
She was soon sweating and breathing hard.
Megan moved with the grace of a snake. Jack might not have the young woman’s grace, but he kept up a steady pace. Not about to call it quits, Kris took in deep breaths and kept putting one elbow forward, then the other.
Off to her right she could hear the occasional explosion of a Marine grenade. Other explosions came from all around interspersed with cannon and machine gun fire. Defiant single shots from M-6's showed that the Marines were still active and not about to give up.
Kris kept crawling. The air stank and irritated her nose and lungs, still she refused to cough. Rather she choked up ugly colored phlegm. Her eyes watered, making it hard for her to see much in the smog.
“Nelly, could you get me some spy eyes down here? They may not be able to see much through this smog, but I can’t either.”
“I’m bringing a dozen down. Give me a minute, I’ll have them home on the next burst of machine gun fire, then search us out.”
A long moment later, Nelly was back in Kris’s head. “Here’s what we’re making out.”
The tank appeared to be two hundred meters or so off to Kris’s right. The scouts showed that at least one of its tracks was shattered.
That’s not going anywhere, Jack commented on Nelly Net.
Nope, Kris agreed. But neither are we.
Any idea how good these rock throwers are?
No idea at all, Jack, but I don’t want to spoil all your Marine’s good work keeping them fixated in the opposite direction.
Yeah, I guess we need to get closer.
If Kris didn’t know better, she might hear exhaustion in Jack’s words.
They crawled for another half eternity. Kris began to make out a solid blur in the smoke off to her right.
You see it, Jack?
Nelly, is that our target?
Definitely.
Kris, Meg, let’s spread out and see what kind of mess we can make of it.
Two more explosions drew rapid cannon fire to Kris’s right rear. Single shots answered it, yipping like a terrier puppy with no good sense. The main gun roared, but what damage it did was lost in the smoke.
The three of them swung around, heads toward the tank. Kris stretched her arms out, then got them around the alien weapon. Nothing really fit; it was sized to hands and fingers so much larger than hers.
Ready when you are, Jack said.
Me too, echoed Megan.
Fire two rounds, then check out what we’ve accomplished, Kris ordered. Fire on three. One. Two. Three.
Kris pulled the trigger. There was a whoompf of back blast behind her. Far too slowly, the weapon reloaded. She pulled the trigger again.
This time, nothing happened.
I’ve got a jam, she reported on Nelly Net.
Ignore it. I’ll fire three.
You’ll get spotted.
They’ll be dead.
Jack and Megan got off a second round at the tank. Both hit, but the tank just shrugged them off as if nothing bothered it. The turret now rumbled as it turned to face its new attacker.
Kris found what looked like a small crow bar on the weapons beside the sight. She popped the magazine out, detached the pry bar and attacked the bulky round that was hung up in her weapons breach.
Beside her, Jack fired a third round.
Mine jammed this time, too, was Megan’s report on net.
Look for a pry bar by your sights, Kris told her.
Got it.
Two hundred meters ahead of them, the machine cannon began to fire. Shells hit the deck ahead of Kris, but the gunner was rapidly getting their range as Jack fired a fourth round.
It hit the tank’s mantle, right next to the machine cannon, but the damn thing just kept rattling away.
Then there was a roar behind Kris. Something whooshed over her head and the tank blew up. Its turret flew into the air to do lazy flips before falling to earth.
Behind Kris, a new tank rumbled into view.
I don’t know which side that puppy’s on, but sure I hope it’s ours, Jack observed as dryly as Nelly Net allowed.
Chapter 39
Kris jammed a new magazine into her now cleared rocket launcher, then stood, trying to hold the tube in a non-threatening ma
nner . . . but at the ready. Beside her, Jack and Meg were doing their best to do the same.
The tank ground to a halt. Its turret stayed aimed at the burning wreckage before it. Kris tried to believe that was a good sign. Then the hatch atop the turret creaked open and an Iteeche appeared.
“That you, Ron?” Kris called, not quite able to make out her friend without some of his robes showing.
“It’s me. My Chooser’s household guards took their time, but they are here.”
Ron got his head up higher and Kris could now make out his official court dress, if a bit wrinkled. “There’s a troop transport back there. Get in. We’ve got a deadline to meet, and I do mean dead line.”
Kris and her team trotted to the open back door of an eight-wheeled armored box and were quickly invited inside by a house guardsman in full body armor. Settling in place, Kris smiled at the Iteeches across from her while she thought furiously.
Nelly, what’s our situation?
Amazingly improved, Kris, came with a vision of a map of the blocks around Kris’s vehicle. Yep, there were tanks and infantry deployed on every street corner. Here and there, other tanks burned furiously, but nothing new blew up.
You think we were played? Jack asked.
One could wonder how the cavalry managed to arrive just in the nick of time, Kris agreed. We know we’ve been dropped down in the big middle of a civil war without a program to tell the players much less to figure out what our best move is. Later, I’ll throttle Ron. For now, let’s just enjoy being alive.
Jack scowled, but said nothing. He did fold his arms and stare at the overhead.
The inside of a track was no place for a serious conversation, not even if one wasn’t surrounded by strangers and who knew how many recording devices.
Nelly, how bad are our losses? Do we have anyone handling our casualties?
Gunny has a call into Captain Moore. He’s got permission from the Iteeche guards at the pier to bring an emergency services team down here pronto. Still, it will take a good hour before they get here. There are some Iteeche first responders on the scene. Our medics are getting some help from them, but they don’t have blood or any of the supplies we need more of.
“Damn,” was all Kris could say or do about any of this. Yes, her team had deployed with med techs, but they hadn’t expected a street fight.
“Next time we’re invited down here, Jack, I want a full battalion, reinforced with a heavy weapons company and a battalion aid station,” Kris had to shout to be heard.
“Duly logged and annotated,” he answered through tight lips.
The map in Kris’s head showed their convoy speeding down the boulevard with tanks and other tracks joining in ahead or falling behind as they passed cross streets. On the next two boulevards over, more tanks ground along, protecting their flank.
Kris could only fume. Why didn’t we have this level of protection before? Who was using us for bait and what were they out to catch?
Using my neck!
The column rolled up to a bridge across a wet moat. A grey stone curtain wall built of massive stones rose up on the far bank of the moat. A ponderous gate with many towers led into a wonderland of ponds and gardens. A huge stone building rose at least two klicks away.
Kris’s armored personal carrier squealed to a halt and the rear doors opened on hinges that hadn’t been oiled in recent memory. The sun streamed in, leaving Kris blinking against the light.
“There, that wasn’t all that much trouble, now was it,” a beaming Ron said, standing out in the sun, his court raiment now iridescent in the natural sunlight.
“Your cavalry could have timed their arrival a bit better,” Kris allowed herself to grouse.
“But where would be all the fun in it if they weren’t arriving just when all hope seemed lost.”
“Someday, when we have more time, you must tell me just what sort of smart ass game you and your chooser were playing with my fair neck.”
Two house guards in green and grey almost dropped their rifles as Nelly translated this exchange, but they kept their eyes front. All eight of them.
From a truck, Kris’s porters were unloading her and Jack’s sedan chairs. They quickly got themselves back in harness and trotted over to where Kris and Jack awaited them.
“Lieutenant Longknife, you stay here. Have everyone report to you as if you were my chief of staff. I want to know what’s been done about our wounded the moment I get back here.
“Yes, Admiral,” Megan said, saluting.
Kris straightened the jacket of her dress blues and tried to work out some of the wrinkles as she dusted it off a bit. It still looked like she’d crawled her way across a dusty road.
“You won’t be going into His Worshipful’s presence looking like that,” was not a question from Ron.
“Is there time to get my uniform dry cleaned?”
“No, and we are in grave danger of being late as it is. My chooser has already gone ahead to assure that he does not offend The Worshipful One.”
Giving a strong hint that Ron and Kris, or maybe just Kris, was expendable if off schedule.
“Nelly, can you get nanos to dust me off?”
“Yes, Kris. We’ll take out the creases, too. And you don’t have to just stand here while I’m doing it.”
Kris waved for her sedan chair. Even as she was boarding it, she could hear the soft hum of nanos and see as her dress blues and fruit salad lost their wrinkles and dull brown overtone.
Chapter 40
The Imperial Precincts were breathtaking.
Her Royal Highness, Grand Admiral Kris Longknife and her Marine general escort, and consort, were carried in their palanquins across a gray stone bridge to where guards in deathly white stood. An officer spoke briefly with Ron, looked askance at the two humans, and then ordered a half dozen Iteeche warriors in white wielding long pole weapons with wickedly long blades to step aside.
In the shadow of the gate several dozen well-armed and armored guards in black held their very modern weapons at the ready. Kris glanced behind her. Lieutenant Longknife, the sole member of her honor guard to make it this far, stood at attention, facing the gate.
Kris strongly suspected that that would be exactly the way she found the lieutenant when she got back.
Assuming I get back.
Through the gate, Ron urged his porters to speed, and they broke into a trot. Kris didn’t have to tell hers to pick up the pace.
I wonder how many of us will have to take poison if I’m late?
From the rapid pace of her carriers, she suspected there would be plenty of poison to go around if it came to that.
But Kris knew that her worry now could not do a damn thing to change their fate. So, she allowed herself to put on her tourist hat and gawk at the court on display around her.
The path they trod was cobblestoned with rounded stones of every color. It wound through ponds and gentle knolls covered in flowers of every hew and color. Here were soft pastels. There, were brilliant primary colors. It was enough to take Kris’s breath away.
Nelly, can you thin out the screens and give me a better view without showing me off?
Done, Kris, and the filaments covering the windows of her traveling chair grew thinner, giving Kris a gold tinted view of the world around her.
For a long five minutes, Kris was carried through this carefully sculpted wonderland. All too soon, they passed from the gardens to a square that stretched empty, paved in small stones of agate and jasper. Kris blinked twice before she spotted the pattern. All the stones, taken together, pictured waves on a gently tossed ocean. Here and there were even crystals of many different colors sparkled in the sun like foam on the sea.
Lovely.
If we weren’t in such a hurry to get to our own funerals, we could really enjoy this, Jack drawled over Nelly Net.
It’s a nice distraction, don’t you think?
More important is what you think, dear.
I think it’s sad that the p
eople who live here probably never notice all the work that went into this.
Likely. So, what are you thinking?
That doubtlessly there will be a surprise at the end of this rainbow and I don’t want to overthink it.
Jack somehow managed to answer that with a grunt on net.
They were getting close to the building that appeared to be in the center of the Palace grounds. It was approached by a tall bank of long, low steps. Kris was jostled about as the ride got a bit rough. It didn’t keep her from taking in the Palace they approached. A tall, windowless wall made of huge blocks of a dazzling white marble rose straight up to an overhanging roof of buttressed red wood. At the corners rose solid blocks of black stone that quickly turned into gossamer spirals of silver and gold. Kris could hardly gaze upon them.
There’s plenty of manned cannons and artillery in those towers, Nelly informed Kris. My nanos are being shouldered aside by some pretty big bruisers. Not nearly our level of tech, but good enough that I’m going to have to start a war if I want those nanos in the Palace.
Thanks for the warning, gal, but no wars. Remember, Nelly does not start wars.
I remember, Kris, her computer drawled in her head.
Huge doors, a good five meters across and maybe twenty-five tall, were hauled open by bare Iteeche in beautifully colored tattoos. Maybe a dozen pulled each door. As they opened, another dozen came into view, straining their backs against them.
I wonder what they do in their spare time? Jack asked.
Kris rolled her eyes at the idea. Clearly, the Iteeche went in for a lot of back-breaking labor, just look at her porters. Again, here was a data point for her about this court she was to be accredited to in a few minutes.
Inside, the Palace appeared to be one huge cavern. Just how big it might be was impossible to tell. Thousands of banners streamed from the ceiling. Each was two to three meters wide and easily fifty meters long. Still, each waved lazily to a gentle zephyr.
Are those waving in the breeze or are they creating the breeze? Kris asked Nelly.
I can’t tell you for sure, Kris, but I think the fiber in the banners is flexing itself. We have something like it. I think it’s making the gentle wind you’re feeling.
Kris Longknife - Emissary Page 25
