by Fanpro
The offer was simple; it would satisfy every need of those who chose to accept it. For Takuda there was nothing. And the Tetatae, of course, were not even mentioned.
Goodall told her story in a voice so low that those around her had to strain to hear. She spoke slowly, carefully, with long pauses between the sentences. And yet by the time she had finished, the story, in varying degrees of accuracy, had spread through the entire camp. The results were immediate.
The campfires began to blaze more brightly, despite who or what might be watching from the deeper darkness. People moved from fire to fire to gather in animated knots that coalesced and then fragmented. Voices were raised. People ran through the darkness. Occasional blows were exchanged. Through it all, Holly Goodall sat by the small fire where she had told her story, sat staring into the undulating luminescence of the coals.
Robert Fullerton approached Takuda, backed up by a throng of his own people. The DEST commander, sitting with Goodall and staring at the same moving light, heard him coming. He could tell by the sounds that trouble was brewing. Fullerton came to a halt at the fire, some of those behind him also pushing forward.
Takuda looked up at the leader of the refugees. "You have something to say to me, Robert Fullerton?"
"We've been thinking," said Fullerton, refusing to make eye contact with Takuda. He scraped the toe of his boot in the ground, making intricate swirls in the forest duff, examining the furrows with deep interest. "Some of my people have heard about Vost's offer. Some of them, actually, quite a few, think it is a fair one. Most joined you in hopes that you would come out on top. Now it looks like Vost will win."
"They've heard the whole story? They understand that this contract would not last forever? Have they thought about what happens to them then?"
"More or less," said Fullerton, still making designs in the loose turf. "I guess they really don't see much of a future here. I mean, you gave them the option of crossing the mountains to some legendary new settlement. There are still those who want to try that. But there are others who don't want to leave what they know, what they understand. They just want to go home."
"So do we all," said Takuda. He thought of the little koya beside a small lake on Yumesta, far from anything even remotely military. He had seen the cottage while on a forced convalescent leave, at a time when he'd been hating every moment of his enforced idleness. But he had been struck by the place at once. It needed repair, but it still seemed to represent an alternative future. He had kept the image in his heart, but now he would never see the spot again. He jerked himself back to reality. "Have you made a decision? Have you made a decision, Robert Fullerton?"
Fullerton stood in embarrassed silence for a moment. "Yes, I have," he said in a small voice. "I think I'd like to accept what this Vost has offered." He raised his eyes to look at Takuda for the first time.
Mark Jacobs had joined the circle around the fire. "We all have our reasons for doing things, don't we? Some of us put a lot of store in money, more or less. And the amount we get paid is a way to keep score. I was paid pretty well as an engineer on the Telendine, and I haven't gotten a C-bill since we landed. But I'll tell you what, I've never had as much fun in my life since Holly and Takuda put me into that Locust. I think I'd rather stay with them."
"I'm just a mercenary," said Goodall, speaking for the first time since finishing her story. "And I was the one who got the best offer, so I suppose it makes sense for me to go with Vost. I suppose I should."
Goodall dropped her head to stare into the fire again. "But I just can't do it," she said quietly. "It's not so much that Vost's nothing but a bucket of slime. It's not just that he's a self-centered, megalomaniacal, egocentric bastard. I guess I just don't like the options. There's something wrong with the whole idea.
"Being a mercenary is all right. There's nothing wrong with fighting for money. But I guess I've got something else inside me. There's got to be more than money, and there sure has to be more than Vost. Since we've been together, me and Takuda and the others, I've found that I'm fighting for something more, fighting for an idea about my own future. I kind of like it. All things being equal, or even not equal, I guess I'll make the foolish decision and go with Commander Takuda. If that's all right with you. Sir."
"Nothing would make me prouder, Pilot Holly Goodall." Takuda felt a swelling happiness. Things were going to work.
"Well, Robert Fullerton," continued Takuda. "You have given me an unpleasant task. You want to throw in your lot with Vost, and that's your decision. But you now know what the rest of us are going to do, and that puts me on the horns of a dilemma. What am I going to do with you?" The crowd behind Fullerton shifted nervously.
"If I let you go, someone will tell Vost about our plan. Our only real hope is to break contact and get away. We'll have to move soon and move fast. But if you and your people go now, you'll never be able to keep our plans a secret. You'll have us gored by one horn or the other. Do you understand what I'm saying?
"On the other hand, I could have my people try to disarm you. I'm sure we could do it; we have the weapons and the training, but that would be just as bad. We'd have to round you all up, even those who might be planning to stay with us. We wouldn't be able to trust any of you at that instant, and we'd never be able to trust any of you after that. And there'd be some casualties. Both on your side and ours. That's no way to build loyalty."
Fullerton looked up. "It's true, sir. We don't win if we fight and you don't really win if you disarm us. We'd get some of you, but you'd probably get more of us. That's not what we want. All we really want is just to be able to go our own way. Get away with our skins and our people. Some of these men have families that they need to protect. I don't want anyone hurt any more than you do."
There was a strained silence between the two men, but both could hear the muted conversations taking place behind the back of the refugee leader. They could also hear the movement behind Takuda, the sibilant sound of laser rifles being readied for action. Fullerton waited for the talking to subside before he spoke again. "If you'd let us get our things together, kind of split the camp, letting people know what's happening, your people could just slip away in the darkness. I can keep mine here until it gets light. After that it'll be wide open."
Takuda looked at the man who would destroy the organization of his unit. Robert Fullerton had been as loyal as any subordinate could have been. He had stayed through the bad times, but now he had a decision to make. As with any good commander, he was thinking of the welfare of his own people. Takuda nodded. "All right, Robert Fullerton. We'll try that. Get your people together. Split the camp. Make sure everyone, everyone, understands what's happening. Then we'll move."
46
Takuda wanted to assign the Locust as part of the rear guard for the column, but Dakodo advised against it. With the Tetatae so emotionally attached to the 'Mech, it would have to lead. Otherwise, said the spokesman for the Tetatae, they would probably huddle around the vehicle and refuse to move. Some of them would understand the necessity of getting a move on, but emotion was likely to be stronger.
Thus the Locust, piloted by Jacobs and/or Goodall, would be up front. The DEST members and any refugees who volunteered would form the rear guard. The Tetatae and the other humans would mix into the column. The Tetatae could help with the wounded as needed.
The only real problem with the retreat would be the Tetatae themselves. This was birthing time for them, and the eggs were very fragile. They could be carried, but were susceptible to damage if not treated with great care. That would slow the march. In addition, the Tetatae wanted to reach the new location, wherever that was, before the birthing took place. They seemed to think it was very important for the young to come into the world at their new home rather than on the march. This would make the Tetatae insistent about moving, even though the humans might get tired. And, of course, it would be better to resolve these problems before the march began rather than later. They would have to explain the situa
tion to the refugees, a significant number of whom had opted to follow Takuda and his vision of a better world.
It was several hours before first light that the Locust rose from its crouching position and began to move. Goodall sat in the command seat, with Jacobs crammed into the rear of the cockpit. There was so little room that he had to half-stand, half-crouch behind the seat, trying not to kick any of the spaghetti-like bundles of cables from their moorings. His presence wasn't particularly needed in the cockpit. He had come along simply because he'd rather be with Goodall than anywhere else. Dakodo rode perched on the sloping carapace of the center torso, rom which he could direct the movement of the Locust toward the far country that was their goal.
At the rear of the extended, straggling column were the DEST members and the refugees. Takuda's unit had been small enough when the operation had begun, and now they had taken over 100 percent casualties. All but Parker Davud had been wounded at least once, and some like Holland, Bustoe, and Horg, had been hit twice. Six of the original members would never take another hit. All were stiff with fatigue. The human recruits from the enclaves were not in much better shape. The only thing that made them better able to cope with the strain of the march was that they hadn't been involved for as long a period.
Takuda had been very careful not to give details about the route or direction of the march to Fullerton or anyone else who chose to stay behind. The location of the refugees—which is what they all were now—would become known sooner or later. Takuda preferred that it not be too much sooner. If Vost came after them with the Javelin and Panther, the column might be able to hide. But if the mercenary used the LAM, its altitude and speed would make discovery a certainty. Takuda hoped that Vost would be trying to conserve both the LAM's and the Javelin's assets from running out too soon. That might make him prefer to hold the LAM in reserve. At least so Takuda hoped.
The Tetatae with the rear guard addressed the task with their usual exuberance. They were masters of the woods, and they cheerfully constructed dead falls and pits to catch the unwary enemy 'Mechs. They were encouraged to create more and more of the infernal devices when the Javelin, overconfident in its armored might, actually tumbled into one of them with a resounding crash.
From his own cockpit, Vost saw the Javelin go down; one moment it was there, the next it was gone. He knew immediately what had happened, and began to send a continuous string of venomous remarks and sarcasms over the commlink until he saw the 'Mech climb out of the hole. Vost had already had his own problems with a pit, and he was glad to see Pesht also looking like a fool.
The presence of pits made Vost call for ground support as well as the LAM. The fleeing column would be difficult to find in the triple-canopy rain forest, and he didn't want his valuable 'Mechs damaged by some over-enthusiastic infantry type. He had plenty of foot-sloggers available, especially since the influx of those who had recently defected from Takuda. With these people more than willing to show their loyalty to their new master, he sent them in on their prey. If they got killed, Vost reasoned, there would be fewer to pay. And more to split among the survivors.
The new recruits fell on Takuda's rear guard with a will that bordered on desperation. They knew that this was their chance to go for the bonus money. Do it now or lose out completely was what Vost had said. They attacked the screen with desperate courage, apparently ready to tear each other apart to become part of the mission.
Takuda and his people saw them coming as Vost's new recruits crashed through the trees in their untrained, blind urgency to find and destroy their enemies. It was easy, too easy for trained warriors like the DEST team. First, Holland, Horg, and Knyte fired quick warning shots with their lasers into the trees above their heads, but that was worse than a killing shot. The attacking foot soldiers took it as a sign that their enemy was not a good shot and so presented little danger. They became more bold, shouting to each other in their excitement. There is nothing more invigorating than to be shot at with no effect. That truism had been around for thousands of years, and it was just as valid in these deep woods of this uncharted world. Those who had been missed now felt themselves invulnerable, immortal. On they came.
That was when Takuda's men got down to some serious shooting. The DEST members were superbly trained marksmen who could drill an enemy through the eye— you choose the eye—at a hundred fifty meters. But the killing did little to reduce the enthusiasm of Vost's soldiers. Those who'd been shot at and missed had been quick to report that fact to their hidden friends. Those drilled through the eyes did not report the fact to anyone. And so the foot soldiers came bounding through the trees, all the while the DEST members continued to take them out.
The human refugees were not as successful. A few had subguns and pistols, but most were armed with the same archaic, muzzle-loading weapons as their attackers. When those groups came into contact there was much bloodletting.
The refugees and the DEST people had worked out their tactics for dealing with the vanguard of the Vost troops. When one of the rebels saw an enemy, especially if that enemy were in danger of closing, he would shout a warning. The nearest DEST member would react at once, arriving, with luck, in time to provide fire support for his side. Then the DEST member would drop back and await the next encounter.
It was not so effective when a Tetatae was involved. The little aliens, caught while digging a pit, could not call for support. Most of them had not mastered the language of the humans, and the humans could not tell one Tetatae cry from another. The result was that when a Tetatae encountered the vanguard, he or she usually died before help could arrive. The refugees with Takuda were not accustomed to helping Tetatae, in any case, so the only help the bird-like creatures could hope for was from Takuda's people. When a DEST member was close by and knew of an encounter, he was quick to react. But mostly the Tetatae suffered casualties.
While all these bitter little skirmishes were being played out under the canopy of the thick forest, Seagroves and his LAM were out looking for the head of the column. The LAM cruised through the tall canyons of clouds, its twin Allied AVRTech 125 jet propulsion units throttled back as low as they'd go without sending the LAM into an uncontrolled stall. The I/R sensor and motion-detector systems were set on high area-scan so that they swept back and forth over the broadest possible area. Seagroves had also turned the sensor warning klaxon up to its greatest sensitivity, so that he didn't have to pay attention to the plot. This was flying the way it was meant to be; almost silent, almost like being a piece of the clouds themselves. Knowing that he was alone in the vault of blue and white, he could go anywhere without fearing hostile activity. He slid between a pair of towering white columns and butted his way through an errant vaporous arm that reached out across the gulf like a gigantic ethereal arch. The cotton whipped past the canopy, and the LAM drifted out over a vast chasm that fell away to the green carpet below.
Then, suddenly, the klaxon went off with an insistent screech. Both I/R and motion sensors had discovered something six kilometers below. Seagroves sat forward against the restraining harness and adjusted the tuning dials to bring the digital scan to finer scale. The plot plan reduced to a smaller and smaller area until the twin sensors indicated the same target. Red corners descended on the single blip until they converged as a single reading. Target identification scrolled across the HUD. A Locust moving at a walk. Fully armed. Seagroves studied the eight-digit coordinate readout and called Vost with the information. He waited for a reply and then rolled the LAM over in a gentle dive.
The pilot's problem with the LAM had to do with target location. Deep in the trees, the I/R and motion detectors gave accurate information, but there was no chance of visual lock and identification. That would mean that he would be firing the laser battery on instruments only. That was an acceptable procedure, but in this case Seagroves knew there was intervening terrain. The trees, triple-thick with overhead cover, would have been easy for a multiple short-range missile system or PPC. The heavy weapons would po
und through the crud and bore in on the target. The lasers, however, would strike the leaves and make them flash into steam. With enough laser energy directed at the leaves long enough, the same thing would happen. But diving on a moving, even a slowly moving, target at nine hundred kilometers per hour did not allow enough time for the lasers to bore through. He could scare the target, but unless it stood still and fought, there was no way he could get to it.
The LAM came screaming over the trees, and Seagroves triggered the full battery as his screen went green. There was a flash of steam and a momentary glow as the laser energy bit into the foliage. Then the LAM was past the target and into a gentle climb. He checked the sensors; the target was still moving, putting new foliage between it and its attacker.
As Seagroves pulled up into a gentle hammerhead stall, the fuel-expenditure light flashed and began beeping. The light came on when the fuel load reached half value, and the tone would continue at thirty-second intervals until the tanks were dry. He still had plenty of fuel for this mission, but now there was something else to think about. He didn't need either the light or the noise. Seagroves reached forward against the harness and twisted the light from its bayonet socket, silencing the beeping at the same time. He would replace it after he landed. It went against his training as a pilot to allow the light to remain out, a lenown gig on the maintenance report. And Elizabeth Hoond, his senior tech, would be all over him like a blanket if he didn't report it. But, then again, even if he ran out of fuel, he could always glide in and walk the 'Mech home.
47
The retreat continued through that night and into the next day and then the next day and the next until the periods of daylight and darkness melded together in a blur of fatigue and fear. Some people dropped out and were captured. Some were killed by the thinning cloud of their comrades who had now joined Vost. Some just drifted away from the column and never returned. And still the retreat went on.
