by Rick Shelley
“On our way.”
Alfie gestured to his men to follow him. For the first thirty yards they moved on hands and knees, keeping cover between them and the Feddies. Then Alfie got up, choosing a good vantage point behind a tree. He made a come-along gesture, then started moving at a slow trot, crouched over, less concerned about being spotted. He went from tree to tree, pausing briefly at each. He could see the goal Tory had mentioned, where the woodlands stopped looking manicured and grew wild. There was a path into that wilder area almost directly in front of him.
One squad at a time, the rest of the platoon followed. As soon as Alfie and his fire team were in the relative security of the wild growth, they took up firing positions so they would be able to cover the others if that became necessary.
Tory brought his fire team across last.
“I never thought we’d pull that off,” Alfie whispered when Tory crouched next to him. “Not a glimmer of them seeing us.”
“We’ll give them their chances soon enough,” Tory replied. “We’ve only done the easy half of our job.”
“How do you figure to work it?”
“Hang on. I want the others in on this.” He switched channels to talk with all of the squad and fire team leaders.
“We’re going to slide along near the edge of this stuff and try to get within fifty or sixty yards of the Feddies before we open up,” Tory said. “Grenades first, then everything we’ve got.”
“We’re running short on grenades,” Will Cordamon said. “We used damn near all of them before.”
“So we’ll use the rest now, just to give us a few seconds of confusion and cut down the odds. We’ll hit hard, then fade into the woods before they can counter. It’s not just grenades we’re getting short of.”
“That was my next point,” Cordamon said.
“We’ll hit them, then slide off and get as far down the line as we can before we hit again, if we have to. If we can make the Feddies think that they didn’t box all of us in, it’ll be that much easier for the rest of our blokes to break free. They’re going to try to punch a hole through the Feddie lines as soon as we hit the first time.”
“How soon?” Alfie asked.
“I’m waiting for Captain McAuliffe to give the word. Not long, I think. Just get your men ready, all of you. Alfie, start your fire team moving. Remember, we want to get close before we start anything.”
Moving was better than sitting, and worlds better than lying around hoping for a chance to get up again. Despite the wild nature of the wood where the I&R platoon was now, there were paths. Alfie set a fast pace.
“The rest are in position, waiting for us,” Tory told Alfie after three minutes. “How close are you?”
“About ninety yards from the nearest,” Alfie replied. “That’s why we slowed down. We’re getting close enough that they might see us if we’re not careful.”
“How much longer do you need?”
“Two minutes ought to do it. That soon enough?”
There was a delay while Tory checked with Captain McAuliffe. “Two minutes from right now, Alfie,” Tory said. “Mark the time. We’re coming up now.”
There was no time for careful preparation. The last fire team had scarcely moved into position before the two minutes were gone. Grenades were launched. Rifles started to speak. Tory had his men firing single shots, except for those with the needle guns, which could not be fired that way. The needlers were moderate-range weapons, most effective under sixty yards.
No more than ten seconds elapsed between the start of I&R’s attack and Alpha Company’s surge forward. The other two companies followed close behind, widening the wedge that Alpha threw into the Federation lines as the
Feddies started to worry about the “new” force entering the fray from the north.
I&R broke contact and hurried to their next positions, fifty yards east and south, before stopping to take the Federation line under fire again. After that it was strictly fire and maneuver, stopping only long enough to let go a shot or two. Alpha had punched its hole.
“We’re not done yet,” Tory said when they had very nearly reached the line that the others were retreating along. “We’ve got to slow the Feddies down until the rest can establish a new defensive line.”
“We’d best get done fast,” Alfie said. “Another three minutes and all we’ll have left is spit and bayonets. And that three minutes is optimistic.”
“One more set-to,” Tory said. “Pick your spots carefully. The captain doesn’t want the Feddies to flank him too soon.”
Off to the left, they could see and hear Alpha as it moved past them, eighty yards off. H&S and Delta were farther back. Delta was fighting rearguard, and some of that fighting was intense, and close. The Federation soldiers pushed in after, trying to keep the Commonwealth Marines from escaping, or from having the leisure to establish strong defensive positions.
There was also at least a company of Feddies moving along the flank of the Commonwealth withdrawal, a narrow skirmish line moving between the waiting I&R platoon and the main Commonwealth force. Few of these Feddies seemed to be watching for the sort of ambush that Tory and his men had prepared.
“Steady,” Tory whispered. “We hit fast, then get the hell out of here before they catch on. Right? Wait for my command.”
He did not wait long. As soon as the nearest Federation soldiers were within seventy yards, he gave the order. Twenty-nine rifles opened up at once. That brought the flanking company of Feddies to a quick halt. Some fell, casualties. The rest dropped for cover. Before more than a few could start shooting back—mostly without seeing whatthey were shooting at—Tory had his men running again, racing for a rendezvous with the rest of their company. There was nothing else they could do until they got more ammunition.
“Dig in the best you can,” McAuliffe told his platoon leaders and sergeants. “We can’t go any farther without rest.”
The fighting retreat had lasted an hour, although the pressure from the Federation forces had eased after the first twenty minutes. The site McAuliffe had chosen did offer some advantages. A narrow gully ran along the west side, the side that would face any immediate Federation assault. Behind that, there were trees and dense underbrush that offered some protection.
Men nearly ready to drop from exhaustion and the decline of protracted adrenaline highs turned to preparing defensive positions. Some needed to scrape out holes as best they could, around the two thirds of the perimeter that did not have the gully. Each of the companies worked to reorganize, to treat casualties … and to take count of the men who had been lost.
Some Federation fire continued, but there was no immediate assault. The Feddies were strung out and had also suffered losses. Both sides needed a respite before they could think about resuming the fight at full tilt.
David Spencer went from one platoon to the next in H&S Company. That meant scurrying along on his stomach half of the time, even though H&S had been put on the east side of the perimeter, farthest from the Feddies. H&S had nearly half of the circumference to watch, with the other two companies concentrated to the west, facing the Federation troops.
“We’re still trying to get through to CIC,” David told Tory when they came face-to-face. “The fleet’s been in and out of Q-space a couple of times, I guess. The old man’s trying to arrange air cover and a supply drop. We’re waiting on that now.”
More waiting! Tory thought. He closed his eyes for amoment. He wasn’t certain how much more waiting he could take.
Ian Shrikes knew that it was not a great plan. He wasn’t even certain that it was a good one. But it was all that CIC had been able to come up with, and Admiral Greene had given the orders. The fleet had already made one fighting pass through Coventry’s near space, taking six enemy frigates under fire briefly before cycling back into Q-space. That foray had brought more bad news though. Two Federation battlecruisers had appeared, an obvious second wave. That meant that the Second Commonwealth fleet was now outgunned.
“
We still have to get what we can to the Marines,” Greene had said. “No matter the risk.” The fleet had spent forty-five minutes at the far end of its circuit, making preparations. Everything had to be ready before the ships reentered Q-space. There would be no time afterward for anything but the final execution of the orders. The fleet would run back into Q-space immediately after the launch, unable to see if the plan worked.
“Coming up on time, sir,” the OD told Shrikes.
Ian nodded. “Signal the launch officers. We’ve got to get everybody out and on their way in one minute, give them time to get clear of the interference zone before we return to Q-space.”
The task force entered Q-space. Ninety seconds later it emerged, as low over Coventry as the ships could safely go, no more than 150 miles above sea level. A flight of Spacehawks was launched from Hull. A dozen shuttles were launched by Victoria. The shuttles were loaded with supplies, mostly ammunition. At least two shuttles were targeted toward each group of Marines in the hopes that at least one would reach each unit. The odds offered by CIC’s computers were less than one in three.
16
The question between the Bailey and Knowles families had changed from “How soon can we move?” to “Should we bother to move at all?” For a week after the Brix family had joined the group, the three families had lived an uneventful existence. Anna Knowles started to get her strength back. Each day the improvement was more noticeable. And the baby was doing well. No other people had come by the camp, refugees or invaders.
“We should be safe here now,” someone would say as the discussion returned inevitably to the topic of staying or moving. “We know what we have available here. As long as there’s game, why chance moving? It would be hard to find anywhere better, and more likely all we’d find is worse conditions.”
No specific decision was ever made, but was put off again and again. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”
Finally, “tomorrow” did bring strangers, but not what any of the group had expected. It was late in the morning of the eighth day after the Brixes had arrived. When everyone finally heard the new sounds, they realized that the noise had been there for some time, starting so gradually that they simply had not noticed.
“A floater,” Al said. He clambered to the top of the rock outcropping that they had built their shelters against, trying to see what was making the noise. His father went for his shotgun. Eric already had his rifle, having just finished cleaning it.
“It can’t be too far off,” Eric whispered, “or we wouldn’t hear it at all.”
“The Feddies didn’t let any of us keep a floater.” Reggie made certain that there was a shell in the chamber of his shotgun. He and Eric exchanged glances. Reggie shook his head. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? Thinking about fighting off an army.”
Eric shrugged. Ted Brix looked back and forth between the two, not certain what to think. The idea of even thinking about fighting soldiers knotted up his stomach. He did not offer an opinion though. Not my place. We’re here on their sufferance.
“We’d best get the guns out of sight until we know for sure what’s out there,” Eric said. “If it is Feddies, if they don’t see guns, they might leave us alone. If they do see them …”
“Out of sight but close enough to get to them in case it’s something else,” Reggie said.
“Hey, Dad!” Al called in a stage whisper. “There’s more than one floater, and people. Off that way.” He pointed toward the south. “Not coming quite at us.”
“Get down here,” Reggie said. He and Eric put their weapons inside the shelters, under blankets. The women and younger children were all inside. It had rained earlier that morning.
“With floaters?” Ted Brix asked.
“Maybe they had them stashed, or maybe they took a chance to go back for them after the Feddies left,” Al said. “But I saw two cars, and I think there may be more.”
“What do we do?” Reggie asked, looking at Ted and Eric.
“If they’re our people, I’d sure like to know if anyone knows anything we don’t,” Eric said.
“Go over and sound them out?”
“We can take a look anyway,” Eric said. “If we don’t like what we see, we can try to make sure that they don’t see us.”
“I’ll show you where they are,” Al said.
“No. You stay here.”
“Aw, Dad.”
“You stay here,” Reggie repeated. “The three of us willgo.” He looked at Brix and raised an eyebrow. With only the slightest hesitation, Ted nodded. Since he was being invited, he would go—whether or not he wanted to.
Reggie led the way, with Ted bringing up the rear. Before they had gone thirty yards, the sounds of the vehicles, and the sounds of people trudging along through the woods, were much clearer. It was obvious that there had to be a considerable number of people, whatever the procession was. They were making no effort to be inconspicuous, or quiet. Reggie slowed his pace. The more people, the greater the danger, and danger was something he was eager to avoid. He even stopped for a moment, suddenly uncertain whether he wanted to continue.
“We might as well,” Eric whispered, guessing the reason for the stop. “We’ll keep ourselves awake nights wondering what we might have missed if we don’t.”
Reggie’s smile was rueful. He shook his head but started walking again. It was only a minute more before he saw movement ahead, going from his right to left, through the trees. A large floater, a lorry, went past. A smaller floater, painted a light green, stopped, almost directly in front of Reggie, perhaps sixty yards away.
Somebody spot us? Reggie wondered. He stopped again and pointed. Eric came up next to him.
“No one’s doing any shouting,” Eric whispered. “Maybe they haven’t seen us.”
“If somebody does see us and gives any reaction, we all freeze at once.” Reggie glanced back to make certain that Brix also heard. “Just stand stock-still until we know what kind of reaction we’re going to get. No matter who these people are, we don’t want to spook them into doing anything rash.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Brix said. “I’d sooner not know what they might have to tell than make anyone do anything the least bit rash.”
Ted spoke with such deep earnestness that Reggie had difficulty suppressing a smile. “We’ll do our best to satisfy our curiosity without ending up like the cat,” he said.
Brix’s obvious nervousness made it easier for Reggie tobear his own. He started forward again. The others stayed close to him now, moving slowly, carefully, trying not to make any sudden noises. The damp ground helped, and the noise of the floaters was enough to cover any slight sounds they might have made.
The one floater remained motionless. When Reggie thought that he was within twenty yards of it, he stopped again. If he went any closer, they would certainly be spotted, and not being seen at a greater distance might make these people too nervous.
“Hey, over there!” Reggie called out, moving away from a tree trunk.
Noel Wittington sat on the step on the driver’s side of his floater, watching the procession move past him. Over the last several days, the number of people had more than doubled. A few additional people from South York had joined up during the first day of the trek overland. The later arrivals had all come from Hawthorne though. Their reports had been as bleak as those from South York. Nearly everything was being destroyed by the Feddies. Everyone was being driven out of their homes. The smoke of the fires could still be seen, so Noel assumed that not everything had been burned yet. But there were Federation soldiers in and around Hawthorne. That was depressing. It had crushed the one hope that Noel had been nurturing since leading his band away from South York.
What do we do now? was the constant question. With more than four hundred people together, movement had become essential. They couldn’t just find a place and stay put. The game animals moved away too quickly. One hunt was all that they could count on without wandering far afield. They had to mov
e on to eat. For the last two days, they had gradually worked a semicircle around Hawthorne, staying far enough out to avoid any soldiers. Noel had sent scouts out in front of the column. Twice, those scouts had brought back word of Feddies ahead in time to allow the convoy to change direction to stay away from them.
Halfway around Hawthorne. Where do we go from here?
There were several towns to the north, intermediate steps between Hawthorne and The Dales, but Noel had no hope now that any of those towns would be free of the invaders, and The Dales certainly would have been hit the first night, along with Coventry City and South York. Where else is there to go? He knew the answer, nowhere, but that didn’t offer any solutions. We can’t go back, and there’s nowhere else to go. And the farther we wander, the more people we’re likely to attract. We can’t handle many more.
There were already too many. It strained resources too quickly. Hunt and move. Take an hour or two and send people out to gather nuts, berries, and anything else that might be even vaguely nourishing that could be found. The daily gathering was beginning to be less successful. Finding an area that had not already been picked over by others was becoming difficult.
We ought to break up into smaller groups, maybe a group to go off with each floater. That seemed eminently logical, but Noel could not persuade himself to make the suggestion, and he was even more doubtful that the majority would separate willingly.
“Hey, over there!”
Noel jumped to his feet, startled by the shout. He looked around, trying to figure out where the call had come from. The people from his column who were close were all looking off to the left. Noel scanned that way, then saw the three men. One of them waved both hands over his head.
“Can we come over to talk?”
“Come on in,” Noel called back. “There just the three of you?”
“Just us.”
The line of refugees on the track came to a halt. Even up ahead people heard that something was going on and stopped. Without command, the entire line was soon halted. People up front started to move back, anxious to see what was going on. People from the rear of the column moved closer as well. By the time the three men emerged from the forest north of the track, more than a third of Noel’s “command”was close enough to see and hear whatever happened.
