by Chris Bunch
“This man has done well. Very well indeed. He shall be raised to the Leiter class, and given great rewards, to inspire his fellows.”
Njangu thought the fat man was going to kiss Redruth.
Celidon enlightened Yoshitaro on the flight back to Agur.
“The Protector has great ideas,” he said, and there was no sign of appreciation in his voice.
“I am aware of that.”
“Not in the instance shown today, you weren’t.”
Njangu showed interest.
“That factory, as the Protector told you, has been designated to begin production of a new class of ship. Are you familiar with any of the Confederation battle cruisers?”
Yoshitaro wasn’t, other than from action holos he’d snored through as a boy. But Ab Yohns, having spent much time on Centrum, undoubtedly would know something.
“A bit,” Yoshitaro said carefully.
“Perhaps you recall the Naarohn-class?”
“Not at the moment. I’m sorry, I was always more interested in finding out specific economic plans for the Protector when I was within the Confederation.”
“Mmmh. Well, you might look the Naarohns up when you get back to your office. Protector Redruth plans for his new ships to be at least fifty meters longer, and far more heavily armed, than any of those ships were.
“Other, even greater creations wait in the wings for his approval.”
Yoshitaro put a pleased expression on his face, then a questioning look.
“You seem to disapprove, Fleet Commander. I don’t understand.”
“Because,” Celidon said, speaking as if to a child, “the Confederation is … was … a great empire. It takes such an empire to support a great fleet. And a fleet is more than copies of obsolescent ships like the Corfe, and a scattering of dreadnoughts. Big ships need big support and big escort.
“I expect I’m wrong,” Celidon said, and Yoshitaro realized he was speaking to any possible monitors, “and Protector Redruth is more than capable of leading such a great fleet, and I shall do all I can to aid him.
“In fact, I’m sure there shall be no problems.”
But Celidon’s face suggested quite the opposite.
• • •
Njangu read the entry on the screen, lips pursed. The Naarohns had flush turrets here, there, everywhere, tubes launching antiship and bombardment missiles twice the size of the Goddards. Huge, almost two kilometers long. Antimissile batteries everywhere. No chainguns, but who needed them with such firepower?
Then he noted the entry at the bottom:
Class abandoned because of in-atmosphere lack of maneuverability, plus large crew requirements.
Still, he thought, one of those, loose in Cumbre’s system, could do an enormous amount of damage, just standing off D-Cumbre and lofting missiles in-atmosphere.
There was a tap at the door.
“Enter,” he said in the lofty manner of a Leiter, and Maev came in, wearing lounging pajamas.
“And how did your day with his never to be sufficiently praised majesty go?”
“Very interesting. And yours?”
“Nicely. I’m now officially transferred to your command, resident within this complex, drawing separate rations, and with an allowance for, get this, appropriate clothing to be determined by my new commander, which is you.
“Twenty-four of the most dedicated, most eager, most drooling of the Protector’s Own will arrive within a day or so. And I had time to make the acquaintance of your companions.”
Njangu hoped he wasn’t blushing, wondered why he would be.
“Leiter Yohns, I must say, you are a pervert. Sir.”
Njangu knew his face was flushed.
“The devices and ways you cavort, sir, is shameful,” Maev went on. “If I’d known that, before I agreed to accept your … offer, well, Shiva with a slingball knows what my response would’ve been.”
Njangu had just an instant to notice she was smiling when the com buzzed a series of bleating EMERGENCIES.
He touched a sensor, and a harried officer came on-screen.
“Leiter Yohns, sir. This is Protector Redruth’s headquarters. This com is directly from the Protector. He advises you to be ready to accompany him aboard ship within the hour.”
“Of course,” Njangu said, feeling slight alarm. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes. Might I ask the problem?”
“The Protector has advised us that Cumbrian raiders have landed on Kura Four and committed atrocities. They have been located, though, and are being tracked.
“The Protector is leaving to supervise their capture or killing at once, and requires your immediate presence and assistance.”
CHAPTER
11
Kura/Kura Four
The team acted smoothly, as they’d been trained. Half kept moving, the rest slid into brush, spread out, waited. About an hour later, three uniformed men came up the trail, moving cautiously.
Garvin waited until they were very close, then hammered a burst from his SSW into them. One had time to shriek, then fell with the others.
Jaansma wasted a few seconds searching the corpses, then the team moved on, joining up with the others in half an hour.
Garvin waited until they hit a stream, pointed downhill. He didn’t want to use radios unless they had to — whoever was after them might’ve stumbled on the frequency and was direction finding any coms.
The team slid down the rocky, muddy incline for three hundred meters.
Garvin snapped his fingers, pointed to Irthing and Heckmyer, motioned for them to keep moving … a finger held up, then thumb and first finger touching twice … one hundred meters.
They nodded.
The rest crept up the stream bank, flattened, waiting.
Less than an hour later, they heard movement above them. A rock tumbled past Lir’s head, and, through the brush, they saw two men coming down the stream.
Garvin pointed to Lir, and Montagna. Motioned twice — a thumb across the throat.
Kill them.
A finger to his lips.
Silently.
The two women put their blasters aside, drew their combat knives. Garvin motioned to Dill to be ready for any backup.
They waited until the men were just past them, then leapt out. The second man grunted as Montagna’s knife went into his kidneys, and Lir’s target dropped silently, her knife driving down into his neck.
They rolled the bodies out of the rivulet, to keep blood out of the stream. Garvin pointed to Mahim, then down stream. His fingers twiddled, like a man walking, toward him. Mahim, moving as silently as she knew how, brought Irthing and Heckmyer back.
Garvin pointed along the slope. It’d be hellish walking, but they’d be less likely to be discovered than if they went back uphill, or down to whatever might be below.
His fingers formed two letters … C and M. Climax Mass.
Continue the mission. The large dam was still their target.
At dark, they went back to the bivvy site Garvin had picked an hour earlier. They ate, then half stayed ready, the other half pretended sleep.
The night passed very, very slowly. Twice something moved in the brush near them. Grenades were readied, then the something moved on, making animal noises.
Before dawn, they saddled up. At first light, they started off. They’d gone only a dozen meters when Lir, on slack, signaled for a freeze. She tapped her shoulders, and Garvin moved up beside her.
“I got that feeling again,” she whispered.
Garvin made a face, waited.
“Now it’s gone,” she said, after a while. “Sorry, boss. Prob’ly just a chill.”
“You keep telling us when you chill,” he ordered.
Lir nodded reluctantly.
They crept on for the rest of that morning, stopped for noon rations. Garvin went to Froude, leaned close.
“Opinion, Doctor. Monique’s too good for me not to take her shivers seriously. What’s she reacting to?”
&nb
sp; “Science doesn’t allow for ooee-ooee,” Froude said. “And I don’t believe in things that only one person can see on a screen, like Alikhan claimed, especially when there’s no hard data in the input.”
“So I should ignore her?”
“You’re the boss,” Froude said. “But if I were running things, I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
“You’re a mountain of help.”
Garvin put his ration pak on the ground with the others, triggered the destruct charge. A tiny flame spurted, went out. Garvin wrinkled his nose, smelling shit. Someone had used his empty ration pak to defecate in, and destroyed it with the rest. The smell was gone in seconds.
Garvin changed point, slack, tail gunner, signaled to move on.
Perhaps a kilometer later, they heard the whine of aircraft overhead, orbiting them. Not long afterward came another gunshot from behind.
Garvin considered the options, held up a finger for the team to assemble.
“This is not goddamned working,” he announced.
No one needed to say anything. Their scared, angry, worn faces said everything.
“We’ll abort going after the other dam, go straight up and deep into the hills, breaking contact, then get extraction in to pick us up.
“Dill, gimme the handset.”
Ben passed the microphone across.
“You’re live, boss.”
Garvin checked his map, assumed where they should be, where he thought they could go that might be safe, touched the mike’s RECORD sensor.
“Sibyl Six,” he said, and the recorder automatically scrambled the transmission. “First target destroyed. In contact, no shooting yet. Aborting. Moving Nan Nan Wef toward point Climax Keld. ETA approx two days. Will try to break contact, then need immediate extract. Out.” The com compressed the transmission, shot it out toward the positioned satellite.
Garvin waited. Just as he was about to touch the button for a retransmit, Dill nodded painfully as a double-squelch squealed into his headphone.
“ ‘Kay, troops. They heard us. Let’s hike.”
They went back up the mountain, muscles tearing, lungs pulling for air. Just before the crest, there was a break in the cover. Garvin heard aircraft noise again, chanced looking up with binocs, saw two ships, looking like Zhukovs, cruise past. After a moment, two more came in sight.
The team moved around the fringes of the break, crested the hill. Once more, they heard the sound of a gunshot, from immediately below them.
Two other shots came from either side, as if other trackers were coming up the slope, flanking them.
Are they following us, or driving us? Garvin wondered. Not that it mattered much.
He had Nectan and Montagna ready a booby trap while he watched downslope. He saw movement near the break, focused his binocs on it.
Garvin saw men in uniform, with two people in native garb at their head.
Native trackers for guides. Guess the locals don’t mind Redruth’s government that much. Or they’re pissed at us breaking up their fishing hole. If my people set the bang right, they’re gonna get madder in a bit.
He slid the binocs back into their case, moved backward to the team, nodding, thumb down on one hand, then pointing downhill.
They’re there.
They waited until the aerial searchers had passed on, went over the crest and down once more, moving quickly. Lir found a trail, made a question mark.
Garvin nodded. Take it. We’ve got to put some distance on.
The trail wound down and down, through a deserted village. They were almost at the bottom of the slope when the booby trap went off, a dull thud above them. Thin screams filtered through the jungle.
I hope we got the guides.
• • •
Alikhan’s Velv sped toward Kura Four, two aksai escorting him. He’d planned to take a polar orbit, then, when the team on the ground signaled, swoop in after them.
The control room was silent, except for necessary commands. The com officer had patched the signal from Garvin’s com into the main speakers, and everyone listened to the silence, hoped for another ‘cast.
An alarm shrilled. Alikhan’s human XO looked at a screen.
“We have two large ships, two smaller ships, four escorts on-screen, in close orbit off Kura Four. They have detected us. I’ve slaved the pickup to the escorts.”
“Can we evade?”
“Negative, sir. They’ve got us in three … four detector beams.”
Alikhan suggested jumping to the far side of Kura Four, trying a different approach.
“You can try, sir,” the other officer said. “But I don’t think that’s enough of a distance for them not to pick us up again.”
Alikhan thought.
“I promised,” he said.
“Pardon, sir?”
“Nothing. We’ll — ”
“I have a launch … two launches from the smallest ships. Both have us targeted,” the weapons officer said.
Alikhan’s eyes reddened, his ears cocked.
“Take us out of here.”
“Yes, sir. All Confederation units … stand by to jump … NOW.”
The velv and aksai vanished into N-Space, seconds before the pair of shipkillers flashed through the space they’d occupied.
• • •
Garvin scanned the ridges ahead. He saw no sign of settlements, roads, or anything else except jungle.
He motioned the team forward, and they lurched, exhausted, across the crest and down a few meters. They crouched, hidden by the scrub brush.
Garvin heard turbine whine and swore at being this much in the open — if the oncoming ships had infrared monitors on, the team would stand out like they were carrying searchlights.
The roar got louder, louder than any aerial combat vehicle could produce. Half a dozen Larissan freighters — starships, probably troop transports — flew overhead, escorted by patrol craft. One landed atop a nearby ridge. Through his binocs, Garvin saw ramps drop, and the ship spilled troops out. Another one landed on a second crest, did the same.
“Double-time out of here,” he said aloud, and the team went downhill, hoping to hide in the thickest jungle.
They came to a clearing where a village had been — they saw spiky remnants of lodge poles, where fields had once been cleared, now almost completely overgrown by jungle.
Garvin held up his hand, and the team sagged against anything, wanting to collapse, knowing better. The farther you went down, the harder it was to get up.
“ ‘Kay,” he said, in a normal voice, involuntarily flinching at the volume. “We’ll dump the droppers here. Maybe they’re tracking us by their power paks. I don’t know if that’s possible, but they are emitting power. Stack them neatly, side by side, like we’d just taken them off for a breather and were gonna come back this way. Monique, put timers on the explosives for … two hours.”
“Better idea, boss,” she suggested. “Howzabout antihandling devices and, just in case they’re that careful, timers for tomorrow about dawn?”
“You’re right, That’s better,” Garvin said. “We’ll lug patrol packs. The only thing to take is iron rats, as much ammo and grenades as you can carry, and water. Dump everything except your personal weapons. Keep your radios, but leave ‘em off, in case they’re tracking us that way.
“We’ll smoke on deeper into the hills, hope we can lie low long enough for them to give up, then we’ll try for an extract.
“Deb, give Monique a hand with the charges.
“Five minutes. We’re going to run these bastards into the ground, then stomp ‘em while they’re wheezing for air.
“Oh yeh. Keep your Search and Rescue beacons handy.”
Which fairly ruined his nice little bit of dishonest optimism. Not that it mattered. Nobody, including Garvin, had believed it anyway.
Five minutes later, they were ready to march. Garvin saw Ben Dill still had his Shrike and launcher on his shoulders, was about to say something, then saw Dill’s stubborn
face and saved himself the effort.
One ridgeline later, Froude pointed back.
“Garvin. Look. Here they come.”
Jaansma could see a long column of troops, but Froude hadn’t needed keen vision. Hovering over the column was one of the transports, following closely.
“Prob’ly got their li’l nappie-poo binkies aboard, so they don’t have to suffer,” Nectan said.
“It ain’t polite to ‘cast jealousy that loudly,” Montagna suggested.
Nectan grinned, turned back to the march.
If they’re that dumb to broadcast their presence, maybe they’ll be dumber, once they get down into the valley, Garvin thought. A more disquieting thought came: Maybe they’re not dumb at all Maybe there’s so goddamned many of them they just don’t give a rat’s earlobe who sees them coming.
An hour later, the ground rumbled, shook, and a blast wave washed over the trees above them.
“Look!” Heckmyer pointed. High overhead spun one of the transports, gouting flame from both ends like a play rocket.
“Must’ve been right overhead when all that Telex with the paks blew. Think that’ll discourage ‘em, boss?”
“Not a chance, Val,” Garvin said. “More likely piss them off a lot larger.”
Just before they found a bivouac site, Lir felt that shiver, once, then again. No one wanted to move, but they did, forcing another kilometer before they stopped. Just after they let their packs slide off, explosions thudded through the jungle. Garvin sent Dill up a tree with binocs. He slid back down.
“Looks like somebody’s lobbing artillery or maybe mortar rounds back where we used to be.”
Garvin, and some others, considered Monique Lir thoughtfully.
Near midnight, Montagna pulled Garvin’s leg. He was a bit surprised that he came awake instantly, weapon ready. Montagna pointed up, through the thick cover.
Lights moved slowly past, far overhead. A starship. A big starship. To one side flew another, then a third ship, smaller, then another big craft.
I guess, Garvin thought, we can kiss off any immediate extraction. Not even Alikhan could get around all those bastards. So what we’ll have to do is lose our tails, eat bushes for a couple of weeks, and then try again. Hoping our pickup hasn’t been chased all the way out of the system.
