The Course of Empire

by Eric Flint

  "It takes an armor piercing shell to do that kind of damage," Kralik observed. "They must have some more handheld missiles, or some antitank guns."

  With an emphasis on "some," Tully thought, holding on as the vehicle swerved to avoid Jao foot troops in the middle of the road. He knew just how hard it was for the Resistance to get its hands on that kind of ordnance. Even old-style human weaponry was scarce, this many years after the conquest.

  But, wherever and however they'd gotten the weapons, Tully knew that Aguilera was right—and he also knew that the Resistance in the Pacific Northwest was going to be pulling out all the stops in this battle. In fact, they must have been planning and organizing this operation for some time. They wouldn't be committing their precious heavy weaponry otherwise.

  An orange-red explosion filled the night and sparks lit up the sky like fireworks. At a low-voiced command from Aille, the vehicle stopped. A moment later, to Tully's surprise, the Subcommandant and Yaut were piling out.

  The vehicle's doors flew open and Tully hurried to follow. Yaut had the locator control and he didn't dare let him get too far away. Better to be shot than have your brains fried.

  Despite the heavy rain, he could smell something burning, acrid and strong. Another damaged Jao vehicle was nearby. Not one of their tank equivalent, but the kind they used as personnel carriers. Several figures lay on the wet ground beside it, Jao by the shape and size. No one was tending them. Dead? he thought with rising hope. The rebels had actually drawn blood!

  A lot of Jao blood, in fact, more than Tully had ever seen. There were small pools of the orange stuff on the street, not just the few drops you normally saw.

  The Jao didn't usually bleed much. As with almost everything else, their bodies were tougher than human ones that way also. Tully even knew the reason, because Rob Wiley had explained it to him once.

  "They stop bleeding so much faster than us because instead of thrombocytes they have micro-threads. Think of it being like superfine glass-fiber in their veins, only it's an organic compound with silica and aluminum in it. That's why their blood is that weird orange color."

  Aille bent over one of the corpses, studying it for a moment. "Come," he said. "I have to observe more closely. This is not right."

  * * *

  Something in the distance erupted, staggering Yaut and causing him to fall to one knee.

  "What was that?" Yaut looked back at Aille. His ears sagged and his head buzzed from the force of the explosion.

  The Pluthrak was still standing, although he too had obviously been rattled. Aille shook himself until his whiskers flapped, and his eyes were luminous with emotion in the darkness. "It came from underground, I think," he said. "A storage tank of some sort, perhaps?"

  "A volatile fuel depot," Yaut said. "That would make sense."

  "Fraghta, are you all right?" A hand pulled him onto his feet.

  Yaut turned and saw the dark-haired human male, Aguilera. "I am undamaged," he said, letting his body fall into the sternness of perceived-error. He heartily disliked being touched without invitation.

  "I don't think that was a fuel depot blowing up, sir," said Kralik. "They probably filled some of the water mains with gasoline and now they're blowing them to create steam. Not that it's really needed, in this rain, but they must have been preparing for days. No way to predict the weather that far ahead."

  Aille stood. "You are saying that this is a well-planned ambush, not a hastily organized resistance."

  "Yes, sir," Kralik replied. "Meaning no disrespect—to the Jao—but your Governor's temper is notorious. I'm willing to bet this whole thing was designed to draw an attack on Salem, starting with the assault on the whaling ship. This is the logical place for someone who thinks like Oppuk to retaliate. Nearest big town and it's the capital, to boot."

  "But . . . the casualties they would produce, among humans."

  Aguilera gave Tully a glance that seemed hostile, then shrugged. "The Resistance thinks that way. Kill some Jao—collaborators, too—and be damned to the rest. You're back to fighting in a city, which is where humans have the best advantage."

  Tully opened his mouth, as if to protest, but Aguilera silenced him with a sharp hand gesture.

  "Hush!" His head was turned, as if he were listening intently. So was Kralik.

  Yaut heard the noise himself, now that the two human soldiers had brought it to his attention.

  "Oh, Christ," hissed Aguilera. "Where in the hell did they get tanks?"

  Kralik turned to Aille, his posture full of obvious cautious-anxiety.

  "We've got to get under cover, now. They'll have infantrymen with them, too."

  Aille and Yaut started to turn back to their vehicle, which was quite some distance away.

  "No, not there! There isn't time." Kralik pointed to a nearby building, a dwelling set back from the street with a small grove of trees before it. "That vehicle is a death trap, as close as the tank sounds. Over there, quick, where we'll be out of sight. And get the driver out! Tell him to take cover somewhere."

  Yaut looked to Aille. "Do as he says," the young Pluthrak commanded. "He may be right—and I want to observe this, anyway."

  Yaut spoke into his communicator. A moment later, the Jao driver emerged from the vehicle and disappeared behind another building. The roaring sound of the approaching tank was very loud, even above the din of the battle.

  But they were all hidden in the grove, now. Suddenly, in addition to the roar of the engine, there was the added sound of a great squeal, very painful to the ears.

  "That's the track, braking so they can make the turn," Aguilera whispered. He raised his head a little. "Yeah, they're coming around the corner. Looks like they've got . . . call it maybe a dozen foot soldiers in support. Raggedy bunch. If we're lucky, they won't spot us here."

  * * *

  Aille saw a tank running on primitive human-style metal tracks looming into view through the rain. The tank's engine was incredibly loud, but he was surprised at the relative lack of noise coming from the tracks themselves. They must have some sort of padding between the metal blocks. Not for the first time, he was struck by the sophistication of human technology. Like the submarines or the interior of the tanks he had seen, what appeared at first glance to be crude and simple could be extremely well designed.

  There were also, as Aguilera had said, some foot soldiers accompanying the tanks, following behind it with weapons ready. Why? he wondered. This was obviously part of human military doctrine, not a fluke, because Kralik had predicted it.

  Then, watching the way the human foot soldiers studied the area, weapons ready, Aille thought he understood. Humans were not arrogant in battles on difficult terrain, as the Jao had come to be after their long string of easy conquests. The tanks sheltered the infantrymen while they, in turn, protected the vehicle from surprise attack from the flanks and the rear. He could see where it would be an effective combination, fighting in the narrow and cramped quarters of a city.

  The tank had now advanced far enough into the street to come into line-of-sight of their abandoned Jao vehicle. It halted immediately, its gun mount swiveling as though seeking prey, then fired.

  It was a direct hit. The vehicle seemed to erupt from inside, hatches and other pieces flying everywhere, the noise incredible. Flame and smoke poured out. Aille had no doubt at all that if there had been anyone in that vehicle they would have been instantly killed.

  He flattened his ears in pain at the loudness, breathing hard. White lines shivered through his vision. Laser weapons were almost inaudible. Jao ears found extreme noise disorienting.

  The tank began backing away, to his surprise. His relief also, because if it had advanced much further it would have been difficult to stay hidden from the foot soldiers.

  Kralik seemed to understand his puzzlement. "I don't think they expected an encounter here, sir," Kralik murmured. "They were probably just changing their position to set up an ambush. These are insurgents, not regulars. They won't
want to face off with Jao troops on the open streets. They can't have many tanks, since they must have been hoarding them for years, hidden somewhere."

  The explanation made sense. To Aguilera also, apparently, because the experienced human veteran now stood erect. The sound of the tank's engine had faded away considerably.

  "We'd all have been toast, if we'd been in that vehicle," he said forcefully. "Not even that. Don't ask me where they got 'em, but the rebels are using DU sabot rounds. Silly to use 'em, though, when HE would have done just fine. Your Jao vehicles have armor designed to reflect lasers. They'll stand up to a coaxial machine gun, but otherwise they're even more vulnerable than our tanks—uh, their tanks—are."

  "What is a 'DU sabot round'?" Aille asked.

  "It's just a shaped piece of depleted uranium, with a casing," Kralik explained. "The casing—that's the 'sabot' part—peels off after the projectile leaves the barrel. What hits the target is the shaped penetrator: fifteen kilos of solid uranium, moving about two thousand meters a second. It'll punch through damn near anything—even reactive armor, which you don't have—and once it penetrates . . ."

  He grimaced. "The uranium vaporizes, basically. It's like a fuel-air bomb going off in a contained space. The resulting heat incinerates anything organic or flammable—and, at that temperature, most substances are flammable. If we'd been inside, there'd be nothing left of us but molecules."

  "Interesting," Aille said again. "I can now see why the veterans found the weapons so terrifying."

  Although the tank was gone, the sound of the battle was intensifying. Aguilera moved out of the grove by the dwelling. A shot cracked suddenly, and he crumpled.

  Aille flung himself down, along with the rest.

  "Come on out!" a human voice cried from the darkness. "Or I'll fill the rest of you bastards full of holes too!"

  Chapter 24

  A stream of cursing came from the ground as Aguilera tried to rise. Aille recognized some of the vernacular, but not all.

  "Stay down, you jinau son of a bitch!" The voice sounded within the male vocal range to Aille, and, if he was not mistaken, quite elderly.

  His guess was confirmed. "You old idiot!" Aguilera rolled over, face contorted, clutching his windward shoulder. "They'll flatten this egg-sucking town and kill everyone in it, and for what? A goddam whale!"

  "That whale just brought things to a head!" A bandy-legged man moved into sight, a rifle in his hands. His head was almost absent of hair altogether, usually a sign of great age for humans, and he did not move easily. "Now drop the weapons, or I'll drill you for sure!"

  "If he were going to fire," Yaut observed to Aille in quiet Jao, "he would already have done so. He hesitates for some reason."

  "He's not a member of the Resistance," whispered Tully in English. "Just a cranky codger too stubborn to leave his home. And he just shot the only wad he's got left."

  He rose and knelt beside Aguilera, opening his shirt to inspect the wound. "Put the gun down, old-timer, there's no point to this. They'll wreck the whole city before they're done, and there's nothing you can do about it."

  Seizing Aguilera by the shoulders, Tully dragged the taller man into a pool of light cast from a lamp in the entrance to the small dwelling. Then sat back on his heels, laughing softly. "I'll say this, old man. You may have lost your hair, but you sure didn't lose your balls."

  Aille's whiskers drooped. Sometimes he thought he would never understand humans—for a certainty. He examined the old one's posture and decided that there was no immediate danger. He'd become familiar enough with humans to understand that the old one now exuded abashed-indecision rather than fierce-determination.

  He rose and approached. Aguilera's entrance wound, he could see, looked very small. It was certainly non-lethal, even for a fragile human. Just below the collarbone; bleeding, but not badly.

  "What's so funny?" hissed Aguilera.

  Tully was still making soft sounds of amusement. What the humans called "chuckling," now, not outright laughter.

  "That hole's damn near invisible. Rafe, old son, you've been laid out by a .22!" He glanced at the weapon gripped by the old human. "A single-shot, to boot. Looks just like the first gun my daddy bought me."

  Aguilera punched at him weakly with his good hand, but missed and sucked in his breath at the pain the movement cost him. Even Aguilera's grimace, though, seemed to have some amusement in it.

  "I can't believe it," Aille heard Aguilera mutter. "How humiliating."

  Their assailant stepped closer, staring at Aille. His rifle was still clutched in his hands but not aimed at anyone. If Aille understood Tully's vernacular properly, the weapon was no longer armed in any event.

  "Are you the Governor?"

  Tully stood so that he loomed over their captor.

  "Not hardly," he said. "Jesus, don't you ever watch the news?"

  "The news?" The man snorted. "What for? All them fuzzheads look ali—"

  Moving quickly and easily, Tully snatched the gun out of the old human's hands. The human's squawk of protest was driven from his lungs as Yaut brought him down. The fraghta's hands moved to break the man's neck.

  "Stop, Yaut!" commanded Aille.

  Yaut obeyed, but when he looked back his eyes glittered green in the night.

  "He is harmless now."

  "He raised his weapon to you!" Yaut was seized by anger which bent his body into sharp angles. "He has no respect!"

  "He does not know me," Aille said.

  "He knows you are Jao. He should respect that, whatever else!"

  "Yes," Aille said, his posture sober-reflection, "and yet . . ."

  He studied Tully and Aguilera. Both of them returned his gaze with dark, unfathomable expressions. Then, he looked at Kralik. The general's face, too, had that same expression.

  There was something critical involved here, Aille realized. He did not understand what it was, but that it was critical he was quite certain. This was one of those rare moments in which association hung in the balance.

  "Release him, Yaut," he commanded. Gesturing at Aguilera: "He was the one injured, not me. Let him decide the proper punishment."

  Aguilera stared at him, then at Tully. A moment later, they exhaled deeply. Even with the difficulty of assessing their alien postures, Aille did not mistake the sentiment that infused both of them. What a Jao would call relieved-appreciation. Kralik's reaction was more contained, but clearly the same.

  It had been the right decision, then. For the first time, ever, he could feel the bonds of association. No tentative shoots, these, but strong lines.

  "Oh, hell," Aguilera said. "Just slap the old coot upside the head and—wait!"

  Yaut's hand had already begun to swing when the last word brought it to an abrupt halt. He peered quizzically at Aguilera.

  "Uh . . . it's just a figure of speech." Aguilera winced. "If you do it, you'll tear his head off." He looked up at Tully. "Do us the honors, would you?"

  "Sure," said Tully, smiling crookedly. He rose easily, took two strides over to the old human, and gave him a little swat with the fingers on the top of his bald head.

  To Aille's surprise, the old one's eyes filled instantly with water. "Tears," humans called it, normally a sign of great pain or anguish. Yet Tully's blow would hardly have sufficed to crush an insect.

  "I've lived in this house my whole life," the old one said, the words coming in short, gasping sobs, "since Marge and me got married. She died, just two years ago—but she died in our bedroom."

  "Yeah, I know, old-timer," replied Tully softly. "And by tomorrow, it'll be nothing but cinders. But it's just a house, when all's said and done. And Marge is safely out of it. You better come with us."

  He lifted the oldster to his feet, all but shoving Yaut aside to do it. Then, helped Aguilera to his feet also. The wounded man's face glistened in the dimness, bathed in a thin sheen of water, though the rain had not started again. "Even if it was only a lousy popgun, he needs medical attention."


  "Take him back, then." Aille said. "I will remain and observe further. Tell the medician I authorize treatment." He glanced at the oldster, understanding that Tully would not relinquish him now. "Both of them, if the other needs attention also."

  "I can't." Tully held up his wrist with the gleaming black locator band. "Not unless Yaut goes too."

  Yaut fished in his carrying pouch, then threw him the control box. "Go."

  Tully's face changed as he stared down at the smooth black rectangle. "But—"

  "Either you comprehend vithrik, or you do not," Yaut said. "I have trained you as well as I can. The rest is up to you."

  Tully's pale face looked from Aille to Yaut. "I'll be back as soon as I see to Aguilera and the old fellow," he said, almost as though he didn't believe it himself. "I will."

  "You are of my personal service," Aille said. "Whatever your beginnings, among Jao, to be so trusted is counted of great honor." Their eyes met in the darkness, the green of Tully's reflecting the light from above.

  A long burst of automatic weapon fire came from the next street over. Kralik turned, obviously trying to pinpoint the source.

  Aille took Aguilera's hand, trying to imitate the same grip he had often seen one human use with another, though it seemed awkward. The bare skin felt strangely hot against his own palm. Their body temperature was higher than a Jao's. He had not realized that until this moment. "We will continue to observe," he said. "Now I want to see how effectively my Jao equipment operates."

  "Watch when they fire," Aguilera said faintly. His blood gleamed black-red under the light from above. "See how they—" He swayed and Tully took more of his weight. "—how they deal with the lasers."

  His chin drooped to his chest and Tully swore. "Later!" he said, and then slipped off into the darkness, half-carrying Aguilera and the old human.