West of Honor c-2

by Jerry Pournelle

  "Sir."

  "I want a message taken to Centurion Ardwain. I don't want any possibility of it being intercepted."

  "Sir."

  "He's to hold up on the envelopment. Send a couple of patrols forward to dig in where they can observe, but keep our forces out of Allansport. He can move around out there and make a lot of noise. I want them to think we've continued the envelopment, but in fact Ardwain is to take his troops northwest and dig in no closer than two klicks to the town. They're to do that as quietly and invisibly as possible."

  "Yes, sir." Ogilvie went out.

  "Insurance, Mister Slater," Falkenberg said. "Insurance. We didn't need your envelopment. Confused, Mister?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Just preserving options, Lieutenant. I don't like to commit my forces until I'm certain of my objectives."

  "But the objective is to trap the association forces and neutralize them," I said. "The envelopment would have done that. We wouldn't have to trust to the ranchers to keep them from escaping to the south."

  "I understood that, Lieutenant. Now if you'll excuse me, we've both got work to do."

  "Yes, sir." I left the caravan to find another place to work. There was plenty to do. I set up shop in one of the farmhouse rooms and went back to shuffling papers. About an hour later Deane Knowles came in.

  "I got the change of orders," he said. "What's up?"

  "Damfino. Have a seat? Coffee's over there."

  "I'll have some, thanks." He poured himself a cup and sat across from me. The room had a big wooden table, rough hewn from a single tree. That table would have been worth a fortune on Earth. Except for a few protected redwoods I doubted there was a tree that size in the United States.

  "Don't you think I ought to know what's going on?" Deane asked. His voice was friendly, but there was a touch of sarcasm in it.

  "Bug Falkenberg if you really want answers," I said. "He doesn't tell me anything either. All I know is he's sent A Company out into the boonies, and when I asked him to let me join my company he said I was needed here."

  "Tell me about it," Deane said.

  I described what had happened.

  Deane blew on the hot coffee, then took a sip. "You're telling me that Falkenberg thinks we've put our heads in a trap."

  "Yes. What do you think?"

  "Good point about the artillery. I thought things were going too well myself. Let's adopt his theory and see where it leads."

  "You do understand there's only one person who could have set this theoretical trap," I pointed out.

  "Yes."

  "What possible motive could he have?"

  Deane shrugged. "Even so, let's see where it leads. We assume for the purposes of discussion that Governor Hugo Swale has entered into a conspiracy with a criminal gang to inflict anything from a defeat to a disaster on the 501st-"

  "And you see how silly it sounds," I said. "Too silly to discuss."

  "Assume it," Deane insisted. "That means that the Protective Association is fully aware of our positions and our plans. What could they do with that information?"

  "That's why it's so stupid," I said. "So what if they know where we are? If they come out and fight they'll still get a licking. They can't possibly expect to grind up professional troops! They may be great against ranchers and women and children, but this is a battalion of Line marines."

  "A provisional battalion."

  "Same thing."

  "Is it? Be realistic, Hal. We've had one campaign, a short one. Otherwise we're still what came here, a random assortment of troops, half of them recruits, another quarter scraped out of guardhouses, commanded by three newlie lieutenants and the youngest captain in the Fleet. Our colonel's a superannuated military policeman, and we've not a quarter of the equipment a regular Line battalion carries."

  "We're a match for anything a criminal gang can put in the field-"

  "A well-armed criminal gang," Deane said. "Hold onto your regimental pride, Hal. I'm not downgrading the 501st. The point is that we may know we're a damned good outfit, but there's not much reason for anyone else to believe it."

  "They'll soon have reason to think different."

  "Maybe." Deane continued to study the maps. "Maybe."

  CHAPTER 13

  The night was quiet. l went on patrol about midnight, not to inspect the guard-we could depend on the NCOs for all that-but mostly to see what it was like out there. The troops were cheerful, looking forward to the next day's battles. Even the recruits grinned wolfishly. They were facing a disorganized mob, and we had artillery superiority. They'd pitched tents by maniples, and inside each tent they'd set up their tiny field stoves so there was hot coffee, and chicken stew-and they'd found wine in some of the farmhouses. Our bivouac had more the atmosphere of a camp-out than an army just before a battle.

  Underneath it all was the edge that men have when they're going to fight, but it was well hidden. You're sure it's tht other guy who'll buy the farm. Never you. Deep down you know better, but you never talk about that.

  An hour before dawn every house along the southern edge of Allansport exploded in red fire. In almost the next instant a time-on-target salvo fell just outside the walls. The bombardment continued, sharp thunder in the night, with red flashes barely visible through the thick mist rising up off the river. I ran to the command caravan.

  Falkenberg was already there, of course. I doubt if he'd ever gone to bed. Sergeant Jaski had got communications with one of the forward patrois.

  "Corporal Levine, sir. I'm dug in about 500 meters outside the walls. Looks like the houses were mined, Captain. Then they dropped a hell of a load onto where we'd have been if we'd moved up last night."

  "What's your situation, Levine?" Falkenberg demanded.

  "Dug in deep, sir. They killed a couple of my squad even so. It's thick out here, sir. Big stuff. Not just mortars."

  That was obvious from the sound, even as far away as we were. No light artillery makes that kind of booming sound.

  "A moment, Captain," Levine said. There was a long silence. "Can't keep my head up long, Captain. They're still pounding the area. I see movement in the town. Looks like assault troops coming out the gate. The fire's lifting now. Yeah, those are assault troops. A lot of 'em."

  "Sergeant Major, put the battalion on alert for immediate advance," Falkenberg said. "Jaski, when's the next daylight pass of the spy satellite over this area?"

  "Seventy minutes after daylight, sir."

  "Thank you. Levine, you still there?"

  "Yes, Captain. There's more troops moving out of Allansport. Dammit, there's a couple of tanks. Medium jobs, Suslov class I'd say. I didn't know them bastards had tanks! Where'd they get them?"

  "Good question. Levine, keep your head down and stay out of sight. I want you to stay alive."

  "Won't fight over those orders, Captain."

  "They're breaking out toward the south," Falkenberg said. "Jaski, get me Lieutenant Bonneyman."

  "Sir."

  "While you're at it, see if you can raise Centurion Cernan at the pass."

  "Aye aye, sir." Jaski worked at the radio for a moment. "No answer from Mr. Bonneyman, sir. Here's Cernan."

  "Thank you." Falkenberg paused. "Mr. Slater, stay here for a moment. You'll need instructions. Centurion Cernan, report."

  "Not much to report, Captain. Some movement up above us."

  "Above you. Hostiles coming down the pass?"

  "Could be, Captain, but I don't know. I have patrols up that way, but they haven't reported yet."

  "Dig in, Cernan," Falkenberg said. "I'll try to send you some reinforcements. You've got to hold that pass no matter which direction it's attacked from."

  "Aye aye, sir."

  Falkenberg nodded. The map board was crawling with symbols and lights as reports came in to Jaski's people and they were programmed onto the display. "Wish I had some satellite pix," Falkenberg said. "There's only one logical move the association can be making at this point."

 
He was talking to himself. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he thought I understood him, but I didn't.

  "In any event we have the only sizable military force on the entire planet," Falkenberg said. "We can't risk its destruction."

  "But we've got to relieve Bonneyman and the ranchers," I protested. I didn't mention Kathryn. Falkenberg might think it was just a personal problem. Maybe it was. "Those tanks are headed south, right for their lines."

  "I know. Jaski, keep trying to get Bonneyman."

  "Sir!"

  Outside the trumpets were sounding "On Full Kits." Brady's sang louder than the rest.

  "And we must rescue the governor," Falkenberg mused. "Indeed we must." He came to a decision. "Jaski, get me Mr. Wan Loo."

  While Jaski used the radio, Falkenberg said, "I want you to talk to him, Mr. Slater. He has met you and he has never met me. His first impulse will be to rush to the aid of his friends in the south. He must not do that. His forces, what there are of them, will be far more useful as reinforcements for Centurion Cernan at the pass."

  "Mr. Wan Loo, sir," Jaski said.

  Falkenberg handed me the mike.

  "I don't have time to explain," I said. "You're to take everything you've got and move up to the pass. There are mixed marine and militia units holding it, and there's a chance Association forces are moving down the pass toward them. Centurion Cernan is in command up there, and he'll need help."

  "But what is happening?" Wan Loo asked.

  "The Association forces in Allansport have broken loose and are heading south," I said.

  "But our friends to the south-"

  Falkenberg took the mike. "This is Captain John Christian Falkenberg. We'll assist your friends, but we can do nothing if the forces coming down the pass are not contained. The best way you can help your friends is to see that no fresh Association troops get into this valley."

  There was a long pause. "You would not abandon us, Captain?"

  "No. We won't abandon you," Falkenberg said.

  "Then I have assurances from two honorable men. We will help your friends, Captain. And go with God."

  "Thank you. Out." He gave the mike back to Jaski. "Me, I'd rather have a couple of anti-tank guns. Or better still, tanks of our own. How's Old Beastly?"

  "Still running, sir." Old Beastly was the 50lst's only tank, a relic of the days when CD regulars had come to Arrarat. It was kept going by constant maintenance.

  "Where the hell are the Protection Association people getting fuel for tanks?" Falkenberg said. "Sergeant Major, I want Centurion Ardwain to take two platoons of A Company and Old Beastly. Their mission is to link up with Governor Swale. They're to attack through the north end of the town along the river bank, and they're to move cautiously."

  "Captain, that's my company," I said. "Shouldn't I go with them?"

  "No. I have a number of operations to perform, and I'll need help. Don't you trust Ardwain?"

  "Of course I trust him, sir-"

  "Then let him do his job. Sergeant Major, Ardwain's mission is to simulate at least a company. He's to keep the men spread out and moving around. The longer it takes for the enemy to tumble to how small his force is, the better. And he's not to take chances. If they gang up on him, he can run like hell."

  "Sir," Ogilvie said. He turned to a waiting runner.

  "Ardwain's got a radio, sir," I said.

  "Sure he has." Falkenberg's voice was conversational. "Know much about the theory of the scrambler codes we use, Mr. Slater?"

  "Well, no sir-"

  "You know this much. In theory any message can be recorded off the air and unscrambled with a good enough computer."

  "Yes, sir. But the only computer on Arrarat that could do that is ours, in Garrison."

  "And the governor's in the palace at Harmony," Falkenberg said. "And those two are the ones we know about."

  "Sir, you're saying that Governor-"

  "No," he interrupted. "I have said nothing at all. I merely choose to be certain that my orders are not intercepted. Jaski, where the hell is Bonneyman?"

  "Still trying to raise him, sir."

  "Any word from Miss Malcolm or the other ranchers in the southern area?"

  "No, sir."

  More information appeared on the map board. Levine was still reporting. There were only the two tanks, but a sizable infantry force had come out of Allansport and was headed south along the river bank. If Levine was right, there'd been more troops in Allansport than we'd ever suspected.

  "I have Lieutenant Bonneyman, sir."

  "Thank God." Falkenberg grabbed the mike. "Mister Bonneyman, nearly 1000 hostiles have broken free from Allansport and are moving south. They have with them at least two medium tanks and an appreciable artillery train. Are you well dug in?"

  "Yes, sir. We'll hold them."

  "The devil you will. Not with riflemen against that."

  "We have to hold, sir," Louis said. "Miss Malcolm and an escort moved about 20 kilometers south during the night in the hopes of raising more reinforcements. She was not successful, but she has reports of hostile activities south of us. At least two, possibly more groups of association forces are moving north. We must hold them or they'll break through and link up with the Allansport groups."

  "One moment," Falkenberg said. "Sergeant Major, I want helicopter observation of the area to the south of Lieutenant Bonneyman and his ranchers. Send Stragoff. He's to stay at high altitude, but it's vital that I find out what's coming north at us out of Dennisburg. All right, Mr. Bonneyman. At the moment you don't know what you're facing."

  "No, sir, but I'm in a pretty good position. Rifle pits, and we're strengthening the southern perimeter."

  "All right. You're probably safer there than anywhere else. If you get into trouble, your escape route is east, toward the river. I'm bringing the 501st around the town. We'll skirt it wide to stay away from their artillery. Then we'll cut in towards the river and stay right along the bank until we reach your position. If necessary our engineers can throw up a pontoon bridge and we'll go out across the river to escape."

  "Do we need to run, Captain?" Louis sounded dismayed.

  "As I have explained to Mr. Slater, our prime objective is to retain the 50lst as a fighting unit. Be prepared to withdraw eastward on command, Mr. Bonneyman. Until then, you're to hold that position no matter what happens, and it's likely to be rough."

  "Can do, Captain."

  "Excellent. Now what about Miss Malcolm?"

  "I don't know where she is, sir. I can send a patrol-"

  "No. You have no forces to spare. If you can get a message to her, have her rejoin you if that's possible. Otherwise she's on her own. You understand your orders, Mister?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Excellent. Out."

  "So Kathryn's expendable," I said.

  "Anyone is expendable, Mister. Sergeant Major, have Stragoff listen on Miss Malcolm's frequency. If he can locate her he can try to evacuate her from the southern area, but he is not to compromise the reconnaissance mission in doing it."

  "Sir."

  "You are one hardnosed son of a bitch," I said.

  His voice was calm as he said, "Mister, I get paid to take responsibilities, and at the moment I'm earning my keep. I'll overlook that remark. Once."

  And if I say anything else I'll be in arrest while my troops are fighting. Got you. "What are my orders, Sir?"

  "For the moment you're to lead the forward elements of the 501st. I want the battalion to move in column around the town, staying outside artillery range. When you've reached a point directly southwest of Allansport halt the lead elements and gather up the battalion as I send it to you. I'll stay here until this has been accomplished. I still must report to the governor and I want the daylight satellite pictures."

  I looked at my watch. Incredibly it was still a quarter hour before dawn. A lot had happened in the last 45 minutes. When I left the caravan, Falkenberg was playing games on the map board. More bloodless battles, with glowing lights and wriggl
ing lines crawling across the map at lightning speed, simulations of hours of bloody combat and death and agony.

  And what the hell was he accomplishing, I wondered. The computer couldn't give better results than the input data, and his intelligence about the hostiles is plain lousy. How many Association troops were coming down the pass toward Centurion Cernan? No data. How many more were in those converging columns moving toward Louis and Kathryn and their ranchers? Make a guess. What would their objectives be? Another guess. Guess and guess again, and Kathryn was out there, and instead of rescuing her we were keeping the battalion intact. I wanted to mutiny, to go to Kathryn with all the men I could get to follow me, but I wasn't going to do that. I blinked back tears. We had a mission, and Falkenberg was probably right..He was going to the aid of the ranchers, and that's what Kathryn would want. She'd pledged her honor to those people, and it was up to us to make that good. Maybe Stragoff will find her. Maybe.

  I went to my room and let Hartz hang equipment onto my uniform. It was time to move out, and I was glad of something, anything, to do.

  CHAPTER 14

  The valley was filled with a thick white mist. The fog boiled out of the river and flowed across the valley floor. In the two hours since dawn the 501st had covered nine kilometers. The battalion was strung out in a long column of men and mules and wagons on muddy tracks that had once been roads and now had turned into sloppy gunk. The men strained at ropes to pull the guns and ammunition wagons along, and when we found oxen or mules in the fields we hitched them up as well. The rainstorm that soaked us two days earlier at Beersheeba had passed across the Allan Valley, and the fields were squishy marshlands.

  Out in the distance we could hear the sound of guns. Ardwain's column, the Allansport garrison trying to get through Louis's position-or someone else a world away. In the fog we couldn't know. The sound had no direction, and out here there was no battle, only mud.

  There were no enemies here in the valley. There weren't any friends, either. There were only refugees, pathetic families with possessions piled on their mules and oxen, or carried in their arms. They didn't know where they were going, and I had no place to send them. Sometimes we passed farms, and could see women and children staring at us from the partly open doors or from behind shuttered windows. Their eyes betrayed no expression. The sound of the guns over the horizon and the curses of the men as they fought to move our equipment through the mud; more curses as men whipped oxen we'd found and hitched to the wagons; Shrill cries from farmers protesting the loss of their stock: everything dripping wet in white, swirling fog, all blended together into a long nightmare of outraged feelings and senselessness. I felt completely alone, alien to all this. Where were the people we'd come to set free?