Martin’s bugle was slung over his back, and since issuing officer’s call back at Ash Creek he had not been ordered to use it again. He could look to the northwest and see the smoke from many campfires lazily drifting into the air and was glad he didn’t have to use the bugle.
Custer gestured for Martin to follow and the two of them, along with the scouts, left the column and rode up a nearby hill to the west As they crested the top, Martin pulled back hard on his reins and felt his heart start pounding.
The Indian village was down there, no doubting it now. As far as he could see to the north there were teepees and lodges on the other side of the river. Martin crossed himself and said I quick prayer to the Virgin Mother.
“We have got them this time!” Custer exclaimed, taking in the view.
Martin followed Custer’s gaze to the left. There was no sign of Reno yet, although there was quite a bit of dust in the southern part of the river bottom. There was an occasional echo of a shot being fired, but that could just as well be hunters.
Custer was standing in his stirrups, looking in all directions now. Martin took the opportunity to gaze around as well. It was difficult to tell how the land lay, as bluffs masked much of the river below them and to the north. There was one thing for certain, though: They could not get down into the Indian village from their present position. The Crow scouts did not seem very happy about the sight that lay before them.
More shots rang out and then for the first time they could see small figures in blue appear on the flat plain to the west of the river: Reno’s batta1ion was in the attack.
“Perfect!” Custer smacked a gloved fist into the palm of his other hand.
Martin frowned. There were so many brown-skinned figures moving in the village that it looked like a swarm of bees that had had a stick poked into it.
Custer took his hat off and waved, although Martin didn’t anyone down there in the valley could see them up here. Then the general pulled his horse’s reins and they headed back for the column.
Custer rode up to his brother, Tom, and barked orders, telling him to send a messenger to the pack train. “Have McDougall bring the pack train straight in this direction, across the high ground. If any straps break and packs get loose don’t bother to fix them. Cut them off. Speed is of the essence. Tell him there is a big Indian camp.”
Custer’s brother nodded and rode off to get one of his men to send the message. Custer waved his hand and the column moved off at a gallop to the north, hidden from the action below by the high bluffs lining the river.
Martin reached down to his saddle and made sure the strange satchel he’d been given by the half-breed scout was still tied off securely. He’d promised the man, in exchange for a ten dollar gold piece, to carry whatever was in there and not look inside for the day. A strange request, but Martin thought all the red-men were quite strange and this Bouyer fellow was half red.
Martin spurred his horse and followed after Custer as the general rode north.
SCOLLEN
Corporal Henry Scollen was in the second rank of riders in · M Troop, which led the way for Reno’s battalion. He was very unhappy. A Troop was behind his troop. And G Troop brought up the trail. Scollen’s distress came from his mount. His own horse had come up lame just prior to the departure from Fort Lincoln, and the new mount the quartermaster had pressed upon him had been an unending source of trouble. It was with great difficulty that he kept it in line as the column rode onto the broad open plain to the east of the Little Big Horn River.
Scollen had never been fired at, so it was with great surprise that he realized the snapping sound in the air was bullets flying by. There were Indians all about in the distance, darting in and out of the rolling terrain to his front. He could see the tops of lodges a long way ahead. He ran his bands nervously across the leather satchel he’d tied tight to his saddle. Whatever was inside was hard and a little bigger than a mess tin. It was also warm, which was strange. A ten dollar gold piece. That was what Bouyer had given him to carry this for the day. Why? Scollen had no idea, nor had he asked any questions, eagerly taking the gold.
“McIhargy!” Reno· cried out, and Scollen watched a trooper ride up to the major. Scollen was close enough to hear what Reno was saying. ‘’Go find General Custer. Tell him I have everything before me and the enemy is strong. Go, man, go!”
“Where is he, sir?” McIhargy asked.
Reno pointed east. “In those hills.”
McIhargy spurred his horse and galloped off to the east. Reno then began yelling orders, putting A and M Troops online with G Troop in support. The wide river valley extended mead for a couple miles, then there was a line of trees coming out from the river across their front. The village was on the other side of that.
The battalion broke into a gallop, and the tired horses did their best, gobbling up terrain with long strides. Scollen’s arms ached from keeping his horse in its proper place in the advance. He could see warriors now, much closer. They appeared to be naked, their bodies painted. Some brandished guns, which they fired at the advancing soldiers. Others had spears and bows. But they all were giving ground to the blue onslaught. Perhaps they would all run, Scollen thought. Perhaps the fight would be over quickly.
Reno was spending as much time looking over his shoulder to the southeast as he was making his advance to the north. Scollen could understand the major’s concern. Scollen had heard the orders Cooke had given the major. Where was Custer? If he was indeed in the hills on the other side of the Little Big Horn, he was too far away to be in immediate support as promised.
The valley widened, and Reno could no longer keep a company in reserve. G Troop was also brought on-line. The scouts were off to the left. More and more Indians were ahead, several times the number of troops that were charging. The edge of the village was not far now.
A piece of lower ground straddled the ground in front of the advancing line of troops, and Reno brought the command to a halt with his hand raised in the air. “Form a line of skirmishers!” he screamed.
Scollen pulled back on his reins, but the horse bucked and the leather slipped out of his hands. The horse bolted forward, smelling the gunpowder and dust in the air.
“Scollen, get back here!” the M Company first sergeant bellowed.
Desperately Scollen grasped for the leather rein, but even when he got it in his hand, the horse was too far gone. Full speed it galloped across the open ground between Reno’s halted force and the Indian village.
Scollen dropped the rein and grabbed for his carbine, but in his tenor, he dropped the rifle as the horse jumped a gopher hole and the satchel slammed into his hands. A painted figure flashed by to his right, then one to his left. He felt something tear by his shoulder, a spear, just missing him.
“Oh, Jesus!” Scollen screamed as he was surrounded on all sides by hostiles. He reached for his pistol as a daring brave jumped up and tried to grab the reins. The horse rode over the brave, leaving him screaming in pain.
Scollen’s hand closed on the butt of his Colt as an arrow thudded into his horse’s chest. Another, then another. A large brave came running forward. A long spear in his hand. Scollen raised the pistol and fired. The brave was still coming. Scollen fired again, but he must have missed, as the brave kept charging.
The horse collapsed to its front knees as the brave slammed the spear into its chest. Scollen fell, rolled on the ground and got to his knees. His hands were empty. In a panic he felt the ground to his side for his pistol as his eyes were mesmerized by half a dozen braves coming toward him, weapons at the ready.
“Please!” Scollen yelled, putting both his hands up in entreaty.
Something slammed him in the back, feeling like the kick f a horse, and Scollen’s eyes widened in amazement as the tip of a spear came out of his chest, soaked in red blood. He looked up and was as startled to see a woman, a female warrior, standing in front of him, staring at him intently.
He was surprised he felt no pain. The surp
rise vanished as another Indian slammed a hatchet into his left side and skin, muscle, and bone gave way. Scollen screamed, his hands still held up in entreaty. He was still screaming as a brave began scalping him. It was only when another slammed a club down on his head that the screaming stopped and blessed darkness came.
The Sioux who killed Scollen were impressed with his bravery, charging their line all by himself. It was a feat worthy of a warrior. But that didn’t stop one of them from using his hatchet to slit open his stomach, cut off his bead and stick his head into the opening in his stomach.
Standing back from the mutilation was Buffalo Calf Road Woman, the hero of the battle of the Battle of the Rosebud, known among her people by her feat, the Battle Where the Girl Saves Her Brother.
She walked over to the dead man’s horse, noting the satchel tied off to the dead animal’s saddle. She took it off, ignoring the warriors who were tearing the man’s body apart. She immediately felt the warmth in her hands. She peeked inside and gasped. Powerful medicine.
Buffalo Calf Road Woman took the crystal skull, hidden inside the satchel, and moved forward into the battle.
GAIL
Gall was walking back from visiting relatives in the middle of the great encampment when he heard the first shots. He paused, hoping it was simply hunters returning. But as the shots continued, he realized that today there would be a battle.
From the sound, the fighting was in the valley to the south, which caused him some concern. As his people were camped the farthest in that direction. He wondered why there had not been an alarm of soldiers approaching, but he supposed it was due to everyone relaxing after dawn had passed and no blue coats had shown up. No one could believe that the soldiers would attack this camp in the light of day when the full force of the mighty Sioux nation and the other tribes here could be seen by any foe approaching.
So much for beliefs, Gall thought as he tried to make his way through the sudden bedlam in the camp. Women were screaming, trying to track down children. Dogs were barking and warriors were grabbing weapons and running to the sound of the gunfire.
As he got closer to his lodge, Gall’s concern grew. Bullets Hew by, mostly high, but it told him the enemy was not far away. One of his wives ran past, shepherding some young ones. She did not meet his eye or halt at his yelled questions, and Gall felt a heavy weight press down on his chest.
The bodies lay outside of his lodge. His eldest wife, his youngest daughter who just this morning had filled him with such joy, and one of his sons. Dead, struck down by the bullets of the blue coats. Gall dropped to his knees and picked up the body of his daughter. He peered into her lifeless eyes, closed the lids, then slowly put her back down.
He could hear more firing now. The sound of horses in agony. Men yelling, in their tongue. Some of them white men. Warriors ran or galloped past, heading to the south. Gall stood and pulled open the entrance to his lodge. His hatchet, steel blade gleaming, lay just inside. He picked it up, feeling the heft of the handle. He also picked up the satchel with the skull and it looped over his shoulder. Then he turned and moved to the south.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
MOSCOW: THE PRESENT
The cloud of radiation reached the southeast suburbs of Moscow and crept inward, the most successful invader of Moscow since the Golden Horde of the Khan many centuries previously. Between Moscow and Chernobyl, the land was more scorched and dead than even the Mongol invaders had accomplished.
To the east, panic was beginning to ripple through Europe. People stared at wind reports with intensity, noting every little change and hoping against the realistic words of the scientists that something would happen to forestall the curtain of death that was coming toward them.
THE SPACE BETWEEN
Dane hovered just above the top of the Shadow Sphere, slowly turning and looking in all directions over the Inner Sea. Earhart was by his side.
“Nothing,” Dane reported.
Instead of replying, Earhart opened her suit and stepped down onto the surface of the sphere. She carefully walked down to where the black water met the craft and knelt.
“Be careful,” Dane warned.
“Something’s coming,” Earhart said.
“What?”
“We’ll see it when it gets here.”
EARTH IV
Out of a crew of one hundred and eighteen, ninety-six had volunteered. From that number, Anderson had picked two of his reactor specialists, given the nature of the task. The two men had suited up in the bulky radiation suits and now were ready, standing in the holding area in front of the large hatch that was in the first shield wall between the front of the sub · and the rear. One of them carried the wired skull, the other a large hatch wrench. The hatch was unbolted and they stepped through; the hatch shut behind them. They moved down a short passageway and opened a second hatch, moved through, and shut it behind them. They were now in the emergency operations room for the reactor. They’d both been here before on maintenance checks. Inside a suit, a man could safely work in the room for thirty minutes.
They moved to one side where there was another hatch plastered with red warning signs. The man with the wrench opened it, and the one carrying the skull stepped through. He waited as the other man slipped inside, closing one hatch be· hind them and then opening the next one, again covered with warning signs.
The sailor with the wrench paused before the final turn and looked back at his partner. Peering through the clear plastic visors of the headgear they stared at each other for a few moments, knowing what the next action would bring. Neither d a word. The sailor turned back to the door and twisted the wrench. The hatch opened. Although there was no apparent difference, both men cringed, as if hunching down inside their suits would make a difference. They knew they were being bathed in radiation from the reactor core, but it was an instinctual reaction. They moved to the core and the one with the skull put it in position as Frost had directed.
Both jumped back as they were bathed in a bright blue light The skull was the source of it, the intensity so strong, they couldn’t look at it for more than a second before turning their eyes away.
The captain s voice came over the intercom. “Are you men all right? We’ve just picked up a fifty percent power drop in reactor strength.”
They stared at the skull, which was now pulsing with blue power, realizing that somehow it had tapped the reactor core of that much energy in an instant. They also knew that if it was holding that much power, it had to be giving out radiation far beyond the ability of their suits to block. One of them checked the small card clipped to the outside of his suit. It was bright red, meaning they’d just received a fatal dose in an instant.
“We’ve got a problem, captain,” one of them called out.
“What is it?” Anderson’s voice echoed through the core.
“This thing is hot now. Very, very hot. If we remove it from the core and bring it forward of the shields, it will contaminate the rest of the ship. At fatal levels.”
*****
In the control room Anderson turned to Frost. And waited.
Frost was seated in a battered metal chair, his white hair unkempt. “The skull has the power to open the gate large enough for the submarine to pass through.”
“To where?”
“To where we must go.”
“And then?”
“I can’t see that far.”
“That’s pretty slim.”
“It’s all been pretty slim, but if you had not listened to me, you all would be dead by now along with everyone else.”
“Not much of a life here.”
Frost waited, letting the emotion run out of Anderson. Finally the captain sighed. “All right.” He keyed the intercom and gave the orders. Every man on the ship heard them and knew what they meant.
*****
When the intercom went silent, the sailor who’d carried the skull. In went over to the wall and grabbed a set of metal tongs. He went back to the core and pic
ked up the skull, holding it between the metal jaws. “Clear the way,” he called out; the message was picked up by the live speaker and transmitted through the ship. Forward of the reactor, a pathway was cleared of all personnel, not that the steel bulkheads were any safety against the deadly rays being emitted by the skull.
The two men quickly retraced their steps, exiting the reactor and sealing all hatches behind them. After the months of being crowded, they found it strange to move through the ship with no one else in sight. They reached the base of the sail and found the hatch to the ice cap open. They moved outside without hesitation, a snowstorm beating against their radiation suits. They didn’t look over their shoulders as the hatch was slammed shut.
Assault on Atlantis Page 24
