“Yes indeed, Captain,” Duna said, intent. “Why?”
“What would the Shellycoats form from in a car on these highways?” Fenaday said. “Nor do we see any sign of chained lightning or extreme heat. I fear our enemy has other ways of killing than what we have seen. Something that killed people over a wide area all at the same time.”
“Ah,” Telisan said, “you cheer me. I was afraid we had seen all there was to see. Now you tell me there are new amusements ahead.”
Fenaday snorted, “Let’s hope we don’t experience those amusements.”
“Hmmm,” Shasti said, “neutron radiation, a massive EMP, nerve gas?”
“The God knows,” Duna said.
Near midday, they finally reached the embassy. The building resembled a fanciful castle with a crenellated roof and heavy stone facade. Lesser buildings, barracks, tool sheds and the like surrounded it. The embassy sat on a greenish-blue lawn, secure behind an ornate wrought iron fence.
“Mmok,” Fenaday called, “send the HCRs to scout and have the crab robots open the gates.”
Mmok nodded, and the machines skittered over to the main gate, slicing through the locks and pushing them open. Nothing fired on the machines. The HCRs raced into the grounds spreading out to counter any threat. The spacers proceeded carefully onto the lawn, weapons at the ready.
“Look at that,” Rigg demanded, rare excitement showing on his lean face.
A circle of Marine and ASAT corpses, identifiable only by the remains of their uniforms and weapons, lay around a cluster of civilian corpses half way to the helipad. The spacers trotted over to the scene of the final stand.
“Whatever struck the Enshari down at the same instant did not seem to have been at work in the embassy,” Fenaday said observing the circle.
“We can’t leave them like this,” Rigg said, his jaw knotting. “I’ll get a burial detail together.”
“Later,” Fenaday said, looking up at the big man. “We need to make the embassy ready for the rest of our force.” Rigg and Rask looked at him both clearly upset.
“These were our people,” Rigg growled.
“The living take precedence over the dead,” Fenaday snapped. He regretted the words as they left his mouth. Shasti stood right next to him, Johan had to be on her mind. “We will attend to them when we can. Our own wounded come first. Right?” The ASATs nodded reluctantly, walking off to join the others on the first multi-fuel.
Fenaday looked up at Shasti and searched for something to say.
She spared him the trouble. “It’s all right,” she whispered.
They avoided the section of the embassy gutted by fire, starting toward the main doors. Troops covered the door, while the HCRs and crab robots went up to the entrance. As they reached it, Mmok spun around. “The air scout spotted an incoming target,” he hissed. “It’s under vegetation, coming this way. No identification.”
The HCRs and the crab robots dashed down the stairs as the humans scattered, seeking cover. Shasti dropped the bipod legs on her weapon, sighting in on the direction the HCRs were facing. “Everyone, look to your front,” she called. “Rigg, keep a fire team facing the embassy. Connery, Li, back up Cobalt.”
Vermilion stood next to Fenaday. “Distance to target?” he asked.
“Target is approaching edge of the tree-line,” advised the robot, its flat voice gratingly calm, its weapon leveled and motionless.
“How many? How big?”
“Single target, approximately 1.5 meters.”
“The size of one of my people,” Duna cried, “Fenaday!”
Fenaday opened his command mike. “Attention! No one is to fire except on my direct order. Hold your fire. Hold your fire.”
They covered the tree line tensely, every eye searching for a target.
It came out of the tree line hesitantly, on all fours, with ears up and its nose in the air.
“It's a fucking dog,” cursed Greywold, the Landing Force trooper Shasti had offered to execute as an example. He aimed at the animal.
Fenaday spun toward him. “Freeze,” he roared.
Shasti, moving as fast as thought, knocked Greywold flying.
“Hold your fire,” Fenaday ordered. “Everyone on safe, now.”
Shasti ignored the fallen Greywold and walked toward the animal. She stopped halfway, kneeling down to make her height less intimidating. She reached into her pack, pulling out a ration, popping the canister of food and holding it out to the dog. Her voice, always musical, coaxed.
Greywold glared at Shasti’s back. Fenaday tapped his heavy laser pistol against his thigh twice. “You’ve already had two strikes, mister. Care to go for the third?”
“No,” Greywold replied sullenly. The young tough climbed to his feet, watching Fenaday warily. He safed his rifle. Telisan walked over and snapped it out of his hand with a glare. Greywold glared back.
“Would you care to try taking it back?” Telisan asked, golden eyes blazing in his leathery face.
Greywold stepped back, dropping his eyes.
The dog, a large but gaunt German shepherd, walked closer to Shasti, but still hung back, afraid. She continued to talk softly, throwing a small piece of food—hastily snatched up by the animal. The big shepherd looked at Shasti, sniffing the others beyond her. He whimpered and walked back and forth, wanting people, but afraid after so long alone. The dog crept closer to Shasti, who held still more food in her hand. He nibbled hesitantly; enjoying the food and the soft sounds that Shasti made. It was the old bond, being offered again. Shasti kept her hand out and the dog sniffed it, then licked. His tail began to wag and he moved closer, whining anxiously and butting his head against Shasti. She scratched the dog’s ears, and he sat delighted. As far as he was concerned, happy times had returned to Enshar.
Fenaday walked up slowly and sat down a little away from the dog. The shepherd came over to him slowly. Fenaday held out a hand, speaking the way he would have to one of his father’s hounds. The tail came up, and the dog practically jumped into his lap, knocking him over. Fenaday petted the animal, feeling its too thin body as it tried to lick him.
Shasti laughed. The dog, perhaps realizing the significance of the event, abandoned him to return to his first love. Shasti started talking to him. Fenaday handed Shasti a ration can from his pack. She opened it and dished it out for the shepherd’s noisy enjoyment.
Shasti reached over and looked at the synthetic collar around his neck. This required more petting. The collar and its I.D. tag were nearly buried in his fur.
“His name is Risky, according to the collar, it’s got a military ID. I thought he might be a K-9. They’re genetically enhanced, bigger and smarter than a regular pet. He must have been assigned to embassy security.”
Fenaday looked at her curiously.
“When I trained on Olympia, I worked with K-9’s. They were the best friends I had.” She stood slowly. The dog looked wary, his tail down. She stepped away then patted her leg and whistled. Risky trotted up and walked alongside her toward the others. She made several people come up, one by one, so as not to alarm the dog. Some offered snacks Risky happily accepted. Shasti quickly stopped that. “He won't be used to such rich food anymore. Let’s not make him sick.”
The dog greeted everyone with enthusiasm, even a chagrined Greywold. Duna and Telisan stayed back. Dogs meant nothing to either, and the shepherd was nearly as big as Duna. Fenaday couldn’t blame him. He turned to Cobalt, the nearest robot. “Log this creature as a member of the landing force. Update all fire control protocols.”
“Linked,” the robot replied, “update complete. Please identify the new crew member.” The breeze kicked up and lifted the robot's hair. For a moment, it looked nearly alive.
“Identify the new crewmember as Risky, a K-9 unit,” Fenaday said.
“Acknowledged,” Cobalt replied. The robot turned to the shepherd, which eyed it without much interest, having classified it as a man-made thing and hence useless as a source of treats or pets. “Arf, Arf,” the r
obot said.
They all stared at Cobalt for a second. Fenaday snorted. “Very funny, Mmok. I have heard of living vicariously, but you take the cake.”
With Risky on the team, they reentered the embassy. A familiar maelstrom had struck its interior.
“Shellycoat attack,” Telisan said. Fenaday nodded.
“I don’t know if it makes a difference,” Fenaday said, “but I want all this debris moved out of here. It may be that if something was a Shellycoat once, it might make it easier to become one again. All the bones are to be buried and everything else, burned, buried, or put in the stream out back.”
Telisan nodded. “After we check the place out, I’ll have Mmok put the robots on it.”
“Let the ASATs take care of the remains,” Fenaday cautioned. “They might not want the bones handled by machines. I don’t need any trouble from that quarter.
“Have Rask hook up one of the multi-fuels to the helicopter wreck. Drag it off the pad. I want to bring the Banshee in back there. We’ll put Pooka down on the front lawn.”
Telisan nodded and went off to get Rask.
One of Mourner’s medtechs came up the stairs and over to Fenaday. “The embassy follows the standard pattern,” he said. “There’s a good-size clinic in the basement for situations local doctors might not be able to handle. None of the drugs are usable, of course. The equipment and computers were off-line. They must not have had any medical emergencies that day.”
“Good,” Fenaday said. “Inform Dr. Mourner and prepare it to receive all our casualties.”
He turned to Shasti. “First bit of good luck we’ve had in a while.”
She nodded. “We were due.”
Connery came up to them. The red-haired Irishman had a grin plastered across his face. “Whatever hit here got to them before the emergency power could go on. The units are still off and look to be in working order. The generator is a multi-fuel. Rask should be able to get it running. We’ll need a portable battery pack from one of the shuttle’s stores.
“The armory is intact. They must not have had time to use more than the weapons that were at hand. There is a fair supply of claymore mines, plastic explosives and additional barrier wire. That means we have power in the building and for the exterior defenses. We’ll also have more weapons than we have hands to shoot them. We’ll be ready for a fight, Captain.”
“The good news,” Shasti said grimly, “is that we have power. The bad news is whatever hit these people took them out fast. Seconds, minutes tops.”
Connery’s face fell.
Fenaday shot her a warning look. “Good work, Connery. By nightfall, we’ll be forted up so tight that the Conchirri fleet couldn’t dig us out. Go get the equipment and tell Rask we have another engine job for him. He’s in the back with one of the M-2’s trying to clear the helipad.”
“Yes sir,” said Connery. He headed for the rear doors of the embassy, casting dubious looks at the piles of bones on the floor and shining a pocket torch at any dark corners.
After he left, Fenaday leaned slightly toward Shasti. “Remember, everyone else here comes complete with fear and doubt. They need hope to keep their morale up.”
“Self-deception,” she judged, “but if it motivates them, so be it. I’ll be more careful.”
“Shasti,” he said gently, “everyone needs hope.”
She looked at him without comprehension.
They converted the embassy to a fortress in short order. Behind the main building, Rask and his M-2s cleared the landing pad. Telisan, their best pilot, drove a mule back to the airport to take Pooka in himself. Fury switched over to the Banshee, relieving Hanshi. She had the easy approach, a nice wide helipad.
The landing spot in the front of the embassy was far trickier. Fenaday and Shasti watched from the roof as Telisan brought the big red shuttle between trees, fence line and the outbuildings. Fenaday’s own hands unconsciously flexed as if he had the controls. The Denlenn zoomed up to the clearing, dropping the shuttle into the narrow landing site in a maneuver that made Fenaday cover his eyes. He opened them, expecting to see a smoking disaster. Instead, he saw Telisan smiling happily as he popped the cockpit door and jumped out onto the lawn.
“Do you think he actually waited long enough for the engines to switch off?” Fenaday wondered aloud.
“You said he was a hot pilot,” Shasti said.
“God damn all fighter jocks,” he griped. “We just made the last payment on that thing.”
Shasti gave a brief laugh.
Fenaday and Shasti hurried down the stairs and out onto the lawn. A few of the landing force only now peeked out of their foxholes to see if it was safe. Dr. Mourner came out the back of the shuttle with the first stretcher case. She shot a venomous look at the unaffected Denlenn. As she went by, she looked at Fenaday, “Next time, you fly it or I’m walking.”
Medics came out to help take the wounded to the basement clinic for better care than the shuttles could supply.
Armed with equipment from the shuttles and with the help of the robots, Fenaday sent work parties to get a suitable area prepped for the evening’s fighter landing. At least three more of the wounded would be sent up to the safety of the ship. The area beyond the helipad looked best suited for the task. In three hours, they cleared a rough field on which the fighters could safely land.
Troops encircled the grounded shuttles and the embassy itself with barrier wire. A fire-team manned each small shuttle. Fenaday ordered mines laid in abundance down every likely avenue of attack. Crew-served weapons set up on the roof and sighted in. Mmok positioned the robots for maximum effect. Quickly the force divided into watches. Those without immediate assignments did the sensible thing—they sacked out in anticipation of a long night. Fenaday, Duna and the others nervously watched the sky. Bad weather could mean a return of the enemy’s forces, but the sky remained cloudless as it darkened toward evening.
Before nightfall, the Wildcats returned. The more wounded crew went up in the ambulance pods. Another of the less wounded rode up in Wildcat Two’s back seat.
Ninety-one of them remained on the planet, including six wounded, not counting the robots. They gathered close as Mur set in the west, taking with it the comfort of its fierce light.
Shasti reported to Fenaday as Mur’s light began to fade. “Two fire-teams are on the roof,” she said, “additional guards man every window.”
“We’ve never been attacked in the open, during daylight by the Shellycoats,” Fenaday said. “All the attacks occurred in the dimness of buildings or at night.”
“We don’t know,” Duna said, “if that’s because we keep relocating too quickly to trigger a massive attack during the day, or if the things dread bright sunshine.”
“That sounds too much like an old ghost story to me,” Fenaday said. “I prefer to believe we’ve covered too much ground in the shuttles for our enemy to track us. On the chance that light does bother them, I ordered Shasti to have every light in the embassy switched on. One can only guess in such a battle.”
“Did you find anything on the computers, Duna?” Shasti asked.
“Telisan and I have tried, without success, to find any part of the Barjan Computer Net that is still in operation, using the medical computers downstairs. All the other embassy computers are inoperable. After three fruitless hours, we gave up. Barjan’s net is gone.” He pulled out the disks he made from his home system. “We are going to devote our time to a detailed analysis of the video from Creda.”
“You think it’s particularly significant?” Fenaday asked.
“Yes,” Duna said. “Barjan Deep is the name for a special area many miles long in the oldest section of the city. It had been underdeveloped for cultural reasons as I told you. In the last few years, it acquired a certain style as an address. This led to the digging boom that I believe uncovered the cause of the disaster. We hope to pin down the exact location using the video.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Fenaday. “We have onl
y one tactical nuke.” He dreaded the prospect of crawling for days through the subterranean city, searching for the heart of the darkness that overwhelmed Enshar.
Tense hours followed, but there was no sign of any enemy. Fenaday reduced the alert so more of his force could rest, then summoned his senior officers. They gathered in the ambassador’s office to review their plan of battle. Shasti attended, with Risky by her side. The animal had not ventured far from her since they found him that afternoon. Shasti had asked Dr. Mourner to examine the dog, who pronounced Risky healthy, just underweight and suffering from some vitamin deficiencies. The native bugs and parasites on Enshar had shown little interest in Risky, who was bigger than most of the wildlife he encountered.
Risky boosted everyone’s morale. Everyone wanted to pet the dog, who reveled in the attention. They took his survival as a talisman that their luck had changed. Fenaday was glad for the effect, especially among the wounded.
Fenaday drained his coffee and looked at the others. “Well, we are in as good a situation as can be hoped for. We are in the capital city, dug in with all the supplies we need. The worst of the wounded are back on the ship. Tomorrow we start work on getting out of here and finishing off this... this... whatever the hell it is.”
“If we last through tonight,” Mmok said, sitting back in the chair with both hands behind his head.
Fenaday shrugged. He didn’t feel the need to candy-coat the situation for this group, but he wanted no pessimism either. “We have a good chance. There have been no storms. We have relocated twice in the last forty-eight hours.
“If Duna is right in his theory that there is no central intelligence guiding the attacks on us, at least as yet, we may have slipped off the boards as far as the enemy is concerned.”
“Yet, here we are in the middle of what may be its central location,” Shasti cautioned.
“Remember,” Telisan said, “the attacks have been disjointed, purposeless, stupidly done—if still terrifying. The thing may not have garrisoned this city; it does not act in what we perceive as a logical fashion. We do not know. ”
“We’re not out of danger,” Fenaday said, “but what point is there in planning for an overwhelming attack by an invincible force? If it happens, we die. If not, we are the first force to survive long enough to launch a counterstrike.
Was Once a Hero Page 20
