The weapon bucked. It spewed its flame. The ball of energy leapt away to its target, and fell short. He had under aimed. A meter or so.
The explosion was blinding, even at that distance. A scream of agony announced his success, however short of its target it had been, though he was no longer looking, he was rolling away from the peak of the roof as the wood shakes erupted where he had been.
The enemy weapons could not be discounted, Nago thought incredulously as they punched through both sides of the roof, entering the outer facing deck and punching gaping holes all around him as he scrambled for his life.
He went off the edge of the roof and landed rolling, was immediately on his feet, the bulk of the log home protecting him from the buzzing, whining death the enemy weapons spat at him.
His men were dying all around him, but those with the Outsider weapons were responding well.
Nago watched unemotionally as a Dunaj warrior was cut apart on a roof where he was firing his weapon. They were concentrating on the Outsider weapons. Dunaj everywhere were raining arrows into the forest, as well. As Nago watched, another ran up to take the fallen Outsider weapon, which had tumbled from the roof when the Dunaj had given his life, which the new man began firing around the edge of the log home which was beside the house behind which Nago himself hid.
The projectiles of the enemy weapons chewed up the edge of the home as the man pulled back, but could not punch through the heavy logs as they had the thinner roof.
The man saw Nago watching and smiled a wolfish grin. Nago returned the smile, the lust of battle upon him.
Nago leaned around the edge of his own covering dwelling and picked out the flash of an enemy weapon. The weapon bucked against his shoulder, the burst sped away, and struck exactly where he had wanted it to. The corner of the house was riddled with the projectiles of the enemy weapons as he pulled back, but none found his flesh.
Laughing with blood-lust now, he leaned around and fired again, then pulled quickly back, but not before a close strike showered his face with wood splinters.
They stung painfully. They took away some of his satisfaction, but not all.
This was living. This was what life was all about. The primordial struggle for survival and dominance. He had been well prepared for it. Surviving was what he did best.
He fought, laughing the while.
..............................................................
When the attack came, Rebecca moved.
She came up off the floor, out of her corner, like a wraith rising from the mists. Nago's wives were all in the main room, their attentions elsewhere, peeking out the crack of the door into the darkness beyond. She crept upon them.
At the last moment Atvar sensed her and spun around, a primitive creature if Rebecca had ever seen one. Her kick snapped Atvar's fibula like a dry twig. Even going down, Atvar was reaching for her, hands clawed and raking. Her eyes full of hate. Her scream was as much fury as it was pain. The real pain would soon descend, however.
Rebecca moved past Atvar and tore into the rest of the women, even as they turned, breaking bones with every contact, until only the oldest stood before her, hands held outward.
"Please don't." The woman said.
Rebecca stopped, looking at the woman who was old and worn before her time. Then Rebecca nodded. The woman would make no resistance.
Stepping quickly to the hearth, Rebecca turned around and tried to pick up one of the knives stuck into the chopping block there, but her fingers would not work at all. Her hands were completely numb and useless.
"I'll cut you free." The old woman said. "Just don't hurt anyone, anymore."
"You bitch!" Atvar cursed, able to summon anger despite the wash of pain she was now suffering.
"Shut your mouth!" The woman said. "There's been enough death for one day."
Purposefully, the old woman moved to Rebecca's side, pulled the knife free of the chopping block, and motioned for Rebecca to turn around.
"You needn't fear me."
There was truth in her eyes. The woman was tired. Tired with her age and probably tired of all she had seen. Rebecca did not fear her. She turned her back to the woman, and with one deft quick motion, the woman cut her free. The bindings fell to the floor as Rebecca shook them free of her wrists.
She couldn't move her fingers at all, her hands were in terrible shape, but the wrist splint had probably saved her from worse damage.
"How many days were you bound?" The woman asked concernedly, though her own sister wives were moaning and crying on the floor near the door, where they had fallen. None were mortally wounded; Rebecca did not murder senselessly.
"Three days." Rebecca answered.
"You're going to be in excruciating pain when the blood begins to recirculate." The woman said. "You may lose some use of them."
"I've been bound longer." Rebecca said. "I'll be fine. You'd better tend to them. Their wounds are all serious."
"But not life-threatening." The woman said. "I have tended to many injuries. You did not strike to kill. I saw that, but tell me . . . "
"Yes." Rebecca asked.
"Are all the women from . . . Outside, like you?"
"No. No they're not. But they can be. Anyone can be anything they want." Rebecca said. The blood was beginning to circulate into her hands again. It was tingling. Not hurting yet, they had been bound so long, but they would be soon. Shortly the pain would be all she knew. She had to be gone from here when it happened. She would be but barely able to defend herself during that time. During that time of excruciating pain.
"I have to go." Rebecca said. "Put that knife in my pocket."
"No. That I will not do!" The woman said. "Take the life I have given you, and go. Don't ask for more!" The woman's eyes shone brightly in the hearth glow for a moment, then dulled. "I won't be responsible for the life you take of one of my own kinsmen!"
"I understand." Rebecca said. "I hope you'll be in no trouble!"
"I'm an old woman. What can be taken from me?"
"Thank you." Rebecca said, then she turned and strode to the door and out into the darkness beyond, where the night was filled with the thunder of battle, but none that was so near that she was in any danger. Nago's home was situated in nearly the middle of the village.
She moved quickly now, looking for a place of refuge. A place to weather the storm of agony that was about to descend upon her.
…....................................................................
"Does he really have the authority to order us to assist in conquering a prison planet?" Tremaine Blevins asked.
"That and more." Captain Reed told his First. "It's kind of unprecedented, but he definitely has that authority. In fact, he can requisition even more Corps forces if he wishes. He's Commander and Chief of the Sarvan System. We can't sneeze here without his permission."
"Is that so?" Blevins said. "So this could turn out to be quite interesting."
"Interesting but hardly dangerous." Reed said. "They've got nothing here that'll slow this boat."
"Why is this Senator now so interested in a silly prison planet, is what I don't understand?" Blevins asked.
"Oh I don't know." Reed said. "I get stranded on prison planet, it's gonna change my way of thinking too, I would imagine. One way or the other."
"Final approach." The Co-Pilot said.
Reed had been able to see that plainly enough for himself. The battle was brilliantly visible below. They looked like they were tearing the hell out of one another. Futile really, when with one press of a computerized control on his weapons board he could obliterate the entire scene. And yet it must be very real to those who were involved.
"How low should I bring her in?" The Co-Pilot asked.
"Put her on their rooftops!" Reed said with a chuckle. "That ought to get their attention!"
"Put the fear of God in 'em." Blevins said with a little chuckle.
"It'll put the fear of something in them." Reed agr
eed.
...........................................................................
Despite their superior firepower, the Dunaj were making little effect with their weapons. Whenever the energy weapons were fired, six or eight or ten attackers would cut the man apart, homing in accurately on the flash of the weapons' discharge. But when the weapon was dropped, another quickly picked it up.
Jarlaxle was firing his own Outsider weapons recklessly. He was using the bole of a large tree as cover, and firing from each hand around the tree, while the bulk of the tree covered him from returning fire. There were a dozen arrows protruding from the tree, but none had found his flesh.
He concentrated his own fire on the Dunaj energy weapons. The energy weapons the only thing that would rout him from behind his tree. He didn't want to destroy the weapons themselves, but better destroyed than in the hands of the enemy. And they had a terrible battle yet ahead.
No blaster fire had yet come his way. The defenders were under intense pressure.
Jarlaxle's weapons were beginning to warm as he used them. An arrow took the bark off the tree scant millimeters from his left arm. Jarlaxle saw the man duck back behind the edge of one of the Dunaj log homes, and turning slightly, fired both his weapons at once, a weapon to either side of the tree.
The weapons erupted, jumping in his hands, the equal and opposite reaction kicking them into the heels of his palms. They streaked away. Twin balls of destructive power. They struck the edge of the home, one just above the other, and exploded blindingly.
When the flash faded, a large chunk of the home had gone with it. Simply gone. Light from the interior now spilled out through the gap. The gap almost large enough to drive a ground car through, if such things existed here.
A man began screaming in agony from out of sight behind the dwelling, who had been struck by the concussion. The blast compressed the atmosphere into a cone of force that could take a man right apart. This man had only caught a bit of that force, or he wouldn't still be alive to scream in agony about it.
Jarlaxle felt no sympathy. The man had almost put an arrow in him. Jarlaxle would not want to die of an arrow puncture. An arrow in the guts could produce a slow, agonizing death. A death that could take days in a worst-case scenario. He would take his own life before that!
Deciding to abandon his position and seek a new one, he dove and rolled away. There was no attack, but he was taking no chances. His right-hand blaster hissed as it touched the dew soaked ground. The moisture rich equatorial air condensed quickly when the sun fell, and the ground was wet.
The blaster was hot! Blasters could overheat! He had forgotten! Henamka had been using his . . .
Wham!!!! A thunderous explosion literally shook the ground. The concussive force ripped through the forest, knocking Jarlaxle sideways. The night brightened temporarily to day. Then the sound of a tree tumbling, ripping through the branches of the trees around it, as its trunk was vaporized from under it and fell with a thump to the forest floor.
Jarlaxle had forgotten the blasters weakness. Now it had cost him his friend's life. Jarlaxle felt overwhelmed. In one of the only times in his life that he had felt such weaknesses, he had to struggle to hold back the tears which threatened to overwhelm him.
He put away the hot blasters, though he knew they would cool quickly enough, knuckled his eyes in the darkness of his despair, a drop or two, then he picked up the weapon of a fallen comrade. There were more than a few lying about.
He checked for obstructions in the bore of the barrel. He put the stock to his shoulder. He found a target. The rifle bucked against his shoulder, exploding loudly, reassuringly. The bullet sped away and ripped meat from a man who had just leaned around a corner to loose an arrow.
The man was thrown out into the open, where he squirmed in agony and then began to drag himself back behind the cover of the edge of the partially demolished home.
Jarlaxle worked the bolt of the weapon. Up to release the bolt. Back to eject the spent shell. Forward to insert the new. Down to lock in place. One second elapsed time. The stock remained tight to his shoulder the entire time.
He took his time sighting. Another two whole seconds. Then he blew the struggling man’s head clean from his shoulders.
"God damn energy weapons, anyway!" Jarlaxle snarled, not caring who might hear. But no one did.
Chapter 53
Cavanagh blocked the entire night sky above. Lan thought that pretty much everyone involved must've become aware of her at roughly the same time. Destroyers were the smallest of the Capital Class Warships, but she dwarfed the village upon which she was settling, completely blocking out what had been a star-studded clear night sky.
The battle simply came to a halt as the ship descended. Many thought they were going to be ground between the two; the ship above and the planet below. Even knowing better, that was the impression Lan got, as it continued to descend. It certainly could grind them to mush if that was what they wanted.
It came to rest finally, on the very rooftops of the village, which were all built of a height, crushing many of the peaks.
"The roofs are holding it up!" Becla said breathlessly.
"It's just halted, dear." Lan said. "These structures could never hold it up."
"Wouldn't even slow it down." Kelly agreed.
"We gonna hide here or we gonna go get your sister?" Briar asked. Lan couldn't see his smile, it was too dark, but Lan was sure it was there.
"Got plenty of courage now!" Nat sneered.
"Rebecca!" Lan yelled at the top of his lungs, ignoring Nat. "Rebecca! Rebecca!"
Rebecca heard her name. Faint but audible. Then again and again louder. She knew the voice, but she could hardly credit what she was hearing. It could not be!
"Lan!" She screamed. "Lan! Lan!"
"Rebecca! Rebecca!"
She was out of her nook, a small spot she had found amidst a pile of split firewood, and running towards the voice of her brother, not caring about the startled Dunaj she saw, that she rushed past, who were too awed to act anyway, to stop her.
Lan rushed ahead, yelling her name, heedless of the danger, but the fight was over, at least for now.
Becla was right on his heels. The remainder of the Team following belatedly, cursing Lan as he nearly slipped from their view, into the village, past the stunned warriors of both sides.
Becla had expected him to do something stupidly rash like this. Rash stupidity seemed to be what kept him alive. The voice that responded every time Lan yelled seemed joyously happy to be hearing her name.
Becla would've been as well.
Becla was as stunned that they had found her as Rebecca probably that her brother had shown up out of the clear blue sky to rescue her.
It was something that an action movie could be written about, Becla decided. A true life action-adventure. Maybe, once she had served her term, if she survived it, she would sit down and write one. Her service in the Corps would give her plenty of material to draw upon.
The village was quite large but they were soon reunited. They ran into each other’s arms and Lan spun her around. The Team surrounded them and took up a defensive posture, backs inward, weapons at the ready, but Cavanagh had snapped a Gravity Shield around them as soon as the group was assembled. There was now no force on Bali strong enough to break it.
"Big brother!" Rebecca said when Lan put her down. "What brings you calling?"
"Heard you needed a little help."
Rebecca scoffed. "Had things firmly in hand.
"Where's the Senator?" Rebecca added. She had a look on her face Lan could not quite decipher.
She cares for the Senator, Becla thought. She recognized the look immediately.
"The Senator's Safe." Captain Reed said, the voice coming from nowhere and everywhere. "At least that's what he said. I was ordered to help rescue you, Colonel Collins. Against my better judgment, I might add. You ready to come aboard?"
"We're ready." Lan said.
; The ground under their feet lifted away from the real ground, so that visually they seemed to float up into the air, but the gravity shield was very real and firm under their feet. It lifted them to the bottom of the ship, which opened to receive them, the heavy armor plating melting back and away and then resealing under their feet, leaving them then standing in a corridor which had widened and melted away to receive them.
"I didn't even get to kill anybody." Briar complained loudly.
"We can put you back." Rebecca said.
"I like a woman with a sharp tongue." Mike Dobrune said.
"I don't like you at all." Rebecca replied, and they all laughed, even Mike; he really did like a woman with a sharp tongue. It was the only kind of woman he could respect. The kind he couldn't get.
"We see eye to eye there." Becla said.
Rebecca now seemed to look at Becla for the first time. A penetrating look that Becla well understood. "Who are you to Lan?" Rebecca suddenly demanded.
"You mean is it purely sexual, or can I fight too?" Becla said, remembering the discomfiture the Major General had given her when he had asked Lan that very same question.
"That's very well put." Rebecca said with a smile. Rebecca liked her. The girl had strength of character.
"She can fight too." Lan said.
"We're descending over the Senator's location." Captain Reed said. "Four, three, two, one . . . gravity shield in place, Sir. . .
"And mission parameters are fulfilled," Reed said, "so . . . "
"So I'm no longer in command." Lan interrupted.
"Absolutely correct, Corporal." Reed said. He seemed a bit miffed about something, but Lan didn't give it a second thought.
Things were simply back to normal.
Chapter 54
"There are no precedents." Captain Reed said.
"My powers are all quite clear." Baldwin said, tapping a finger on a huge stack of carbon flimsies sitting in front of him on the huge wardroom table. A printout of the section of Federation Law detailing a Senator's discretionary powers, which he had received by tachyon communication just moments after he had queried them from Sarvan Central Records.
Duty, Honor or Death the Corps Sticks Page 27
