Maybe I’m wrong, Vetch thought. Das-Zee and Lyi-Niah clearly recognized Ree, which meant they weren’t entirely gone. Maybe they hadn’t been corrupted long enough. Perhaps Glaenwi were more immune. Enthree had said Meatbolt resisted the influence longer than she expected, and if she didn’t really understand how this worked, no one did.
The trio embraced, which involved a lot of stroking of arms and faces.
Stupidly, Vetch felt embarrassed at the intimate sight and looked away. There weren’t many other Corrupted in the vicinity. Only a Littorane and a Slern were close and curious. Nothing else.
Oh, hell. It was bad enough to come with Ree to kill the missing pair. It would have been tragic—Das-Zee and Lyi-Niah didn’t deserve to die this way—but this was even worse. It looked like Ree was trying to bring her missing partners back to her Hearth in Tumlhui Dek City.
The Slern stiffened, catching Vetch’s eye.
A dozen paces away, the ball of mucus-dripping slug flesh extended two pseudopods. Usually, these would be eyestalks or stretched rubber arms that terminated with a suitable spread of digits for the task at hand.
This pair of limbs ended in serrated teeth, saw blades supported by thick cords of rubber sinew.
The alien flicked the mucus off its saw hands, revealing hardened flesh.
“Nyluga!”
Vetch glanced back and saw that the arms of his smuggler queen ward had been pinned to her sides by Das-Zee and Lyi-Niah. Her suit was undone, exposing the pink flesh of her throat.
“Leave the wives to me,” said Sinofar. “Kill the Slern.”
The Slern in question wasn’t hanging around to be killed. It sped toward the Nyluga.
But not fast enough. Vetch strode forward and intercepted the oozing creature, aiming a quick blow at the crown of its body.
Lucerne bounced back as if it had struck a solid rubber ball.
Vetch caught the rebound and lifted the war hammer vertically above his head.
He couldn’t see visible damage to the Slern’s flesh, but it had halted, its globular body swaying.
Vetch swung Lucerne down with his full strength behind her this time. The hammer head pierced the rubbery hide and kept going through the Slern’s watery insides until it slammed into the dirt, sending jarring shockwaves up Vetch’s forearms.
There was no time to mourn whoever this Slern might once have been. The Littorane had grown fangs and was moving on six legs to attack Ree.
It was a hefty creature, six feet from head to tail base and several more to tail tip.
Vetch ran to intercept and simultaneously lifted his hammer.
But he wasn’t going to make it this time.
The Littorane reared up like a centaur and snapped its jaws at Ree’s chest. The Guild boss ducked underneath and to one side and caught the long Littorane neck in her hands. Vetch had seen the strength of the Glaenwi’s grip crush his binoculars. Now, she applied the same strength to her attacker’s throat.
But the Littorane had power and mass. And its tail was about to strike.
Vetch arced Lucerne down onto the tail.
But he missed.
Ree was in full wrestling mode and had rolled sideways, slamming the Littorane into the ground. The move had disrupted both the Littorane tail strike and Vetch’s hammer blow.
The Littorane was far from done. He whipped his tail back. Even without the sharpened metal attachments of the Littorane warrior caste, the tail strike could be deadly.
Vetch snapped a quick hammer blow, Lucerne’s head beginning its arc at shoulder height.
The hammer struck home in the base of the Littorane’s tail. It hadn’t been a strong blow, but Vetch heard bones break.
Momentum carried the tail-tip on, and it wrapped feebly around Vetch’s ankles. The Littorane was screaming in pain. The screams were wet and weak.
Returning his hammer to a ready position, Vetch looked for a more vital target to strike.
What he saw was Ree’s thumbs pop out the Littorane’s throat.
Vetch looked away in horror, trying not to retch.
He mastered his revulsion and delivered a mercy blow that shattered the head of the convulsing Littorane.
The smashed-open skull wasn’t a pretty picture either, but for some reason, Vetch found the sight of broken flesh easier to bear when he was the one doing the damage.
He left Ree staring expressionless at the dead Littorane while he checked for her Corrupted wives.
The two Glaenwi were hissing and spitting out of jaws snapping like demonic dogs’. Sinofar had restrained them, tying their arms in front. Dropped on the dirt were two pistols.
“They tried to shoot you,” she explained.
“I understand,” said Ree. She stared dejectedly at the pistols. “I need a few minutes to say goodbye. Alone.”
Vetch looked around. There were Corrupted only a few hundred yards away but none with pointy fangs and murder in their eyes. Not yet, but who knew what they might do next?
Sinofar put her arm around his shoulder and steered him back through the gap in the wall.
The sight on the far side was grim. The Corrupted nearby had been gunned down. Half the tubs were holding station, but two were racing back from the dried river to the southwest.
The enemy vehicles Enthree had heard were advancing from the east. A dark mass tailed them, but there was too much dust being thrown up to see what it was.
From within the hexagon, two pistol shots rang out.
Inside Vetch, compassion fought against his need for vengeance. Compassion won out for the moment.
He remembered Meatbolt. He was grateful it hadn’t fallen to him to dispatch the youngster—or what he had become. Meatbolt’s friend, Enthree, had taken that role. Vetch wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even Nyluga-Ree.
“Time to mount up and get the hell out of here,” he said.
“Too late for that,” Lily replied, shouting down from the nearest tub. “There’s a larger convoy coming from the southwest. Our route back is blocked. We’ll make our stand here.”
* * * * *
Chapter 40: Osu Sybutu
“We’ll make our stand here.”
Osu opened his mouth to contradict the CO, if that was the right term for Hjon as commanding officer of this gaggle of rogue trader Marines.
Then he shut it again.
How was he supposed to speak to Lily now that she was Lieutenant Hjon? He could do with advice on this from Arunsen.
Taking advice from the Viking? Turns out there’s a first time for everything.
Hjon and Fitzwilliam had brought Osu into a huddle in one of the hover-tubs. Vetch would be joining them when he finished playing with the Guild boss.
In his Legion experience, when a lieutenant was conflabbing with a captain, you opened your mouth only to say “Yes, sir.” Maybe join in with a “Hold the line!”
If you had serious misgivings about what the officers were proposing, God, in His infinite wisdom, had created sergeants major.
The difference between Osu and Arunsen was that, by being in the Militia, the Viking had to be used to dealing with incompetent officers daily.
“Do you object, Sergeant?” Osu realized Fitzwilliam was glaring at him.
“No, sir. Ma’am, could you please clarify your meaning of ‘make a stand?’”
“We mustn’t allow ourselves to be pinned down here,” Hjon said. Osu tried not to stare at her bizarre skin markings while she spoke. “But we’re behind 40-foot-high walls. We need to take advantage of them. We’ll block the entrance gate with two of the tubs and force the enemy to come to us. Wear them down.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Fitzwilliam removed his shades and allowed Osu to see the twinkle in his eye. The man was playing them. Testing them. “It’s all right, Sergeant. Tell us your thoughts. That’s what I…ahh…pay you for. Will pay you for.”
Osu frowned. He didn’t like the idea of being a mercenary. But he expected an income, and payme
nt seemed a topic you could never quite nail down with the captain.
“This is how I see things,” said Osu. “We’re caught behind enemy lines. Phantom is our only route off this planet. Every second we delay increases the chances of our enemies discovering our ship and sending more forces our way. If we allow ourselves to be bottled up here, we won’t stand a chance.”
“I agree,” said Hjon. “But we’re outnumbered. To get back to Phantom without being cut to shreds, we need to hurt the enemy first.”
“But if we turn our position into a fortification, I think the enemy will regard it as a siege. They’ll slow things down, and we need to keep the situation mobile. If the enemy has any sense, they’ll pin us down here and send another force through the next gate along to hit us from our rear.”
Arunsen hauled himself over the tub’s side wall of thin ceramalloy. The vehicle rocked, but he landed lightly on his feet in the middle of the vehicle. For such a heavy man, he was impressively agile.
“I heard it all,” said the Viking. “I’ve read it too. You two are making the classic textbook arguments. Militia philosophy versus Legion. We garrison strongpoints. The Legion assaults them.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” said the captain. “Got to break it to you, though. This isn’t a textbook. We have very real enemies about ten minutes away from killing us. We’re Chimera Company. That’s supposed to mean we can pool our strengths and work together. Prove it to me.”
“Sybutu has more experience with assault operations,” said Arunsen. “Can you explain your plan in sixty seconds?”
Osu was so surprised the Militia sergeant was backing him, he was too stunned to speak. But he recovered rapidly and still managed to get across what he intended and win the agreement of the others within the sixty second target.
Chimera Company.
He still didn’t like the name. But the concept was working in theory. Now it was time to test it in anger.
* * * * *
Chapter 41: Vetch Arunsen
“Scratch one bandit! That was the last of them,” said Lynx in Vetch’s ear. “I have control of the skies. I repeat, the skies are mine.”
Vetch laughed at the droid’s excitement. The four drones Lynx was flying had knocked out the enemy’s drones with a combination of electronic warfare and explosive darts.
It would be nice to truly control the skies. Air cover and orbital platforms that could vaporize anything on the surface would make Vetch’s day. But he was content with being able to see the enemy via his wrist slate while they couldn’t see what Chimera Company was doing on their side of the wall.
And since they were running with Sybutu’s plan, keeping out of sight was essential.
The two enemy convoys—ten trucks in total—had combined forces and were now parked in a semicircle a few hundred meters to the south. Most of the hunched soldiers who’d spilled out had smoothly deployed in a loose tactical formation. They looked trained.
Damn! It wasn’t one big mob, either. He was seeing separate elements with squad leaders issuing instructions. Were these the husks of soldiers who had retained a memory of their profession? Or were the Corrupted less of a mindless mob than he’d thought?
Behind the shambling soldiers was a pack of animals. Giant, hairless rats with unicorn horns. Not even the droids could identify the species. Their slavering snarls gave him the jitters.
He would have loved to be up on the wall, part of a battery of SFG suppression fire guns sending deadly lines of segmented shells downrange. The three jacks were as happy as pie because Fitz had somehow acquired genuine Legion PA-71 rifles that could mince the enemy at that range. The blaster rifles Vetch and most of the others were carrying would be deadly at close quarters but wouldn’t cut it at two hundred meters.
On the subject of cutting, Enthree and Sinofar had finished chopping the first set of steps onto the wall and were working on a narrow fire step.
The enemy tensed. It was a subtle change—nothing more than some furtive glances at neighbors and a narrowing of the spacing between individuals—but Vetch recognized it. He knew their attack was imminent.
Unfortunately, as it turned out, so did Vetch’s comrades.
“So, Sarge,” said Green Fish, “while we’re waiting for the show to start, you’ve got just enough time to share the dirt on your love of furry women.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Trooper?”
“Back at Nyluga-Ree’s Sanctuary, I spent a while locked in a cell with Maycey. She told me everything about the two of you and described how you couldn’t stop looking at the hot Ellondyte dancers.”
Normally, he would have told her to shut her insubordinate mouth as soon as she opened it and would have reminded the troopers in his squad to stay alert.
But that would make him sound too much like Sybutu.
There was something else, too. Nothing had been said, but Greenie wasn’t the young trooper he’d left in the hospital after Meatbolt had stabbed her on Rho-Torkis. Now, she hungered for the roguish glamor of the Guild. In her heart, her place was on Phantom’s flight deck, not in Marine Country. Raven Company’s little girl had grown up and moved on.
“I knew it!” Darant exclaimed. “You’ve been acting strange ever since we rescued you, Sarge. Now we know why. I mean, dammit! Some of those Ellondyte girls—” he whistled, “—I wouldn’t myself, but I can see why some might. Good for you, Sarge. It’s about time you got some.”
“I didn’t get some,” Vetch said with a growl. He ignored the others and studied the drone feed. The giant rat things were being herded into an attack column.
Darant hadn’t finished. “Tell you what, Sarge. When this is over and the captain’s paid us that fat bonus he keeps hinting at, we’ll go enjoy ourselves on a Zhoogene pleasure island. Male, female, or more…hell we can throw in some furry action for your benefit. It’s all the same to me with Zhoogenes in heat.”
“That’s hardly saying anything,” Vetch countered. “You’d screw Lynx if he gave you a wink and a can of lubricating oil. No, it wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it? Seriously, Sarge, anyone but you would go spend a few credits at the docks until you got it out of your system.”
“He won’t,” said Green Fish, laughing. “The Sarge is bound by a bizarre ideal of romance.”
“That’s enough,” Vetch told them. “An overdose of banter could prove fatal to our comrades formerly of the Legion persuasion. Their little minds might explode if exposed to such improper behavior. So, button it already.”
“No, we’re good,” said Sybutu.
Oh, I bet you are.
“So, Arunsen,” said the jack NCO. “Can I check that I have this right? While we were planning how to rescue our favorite Viking princess, you were busy admiring bearded Ellondyte chicks, with manes down their backs, and a killer wearing a catsuit that doesn’t unpeel.”
From the driver’s position of her tub, Zan Fey’s shoulders shook. Was she laughing?
“If you see her again, bang her and have done with it,” said Sinofar. “Move on. That’s what I do.”
“I can’t. She’s a murderer. A killer.”
“Then maybe it would be for the best if you did consummate your weird obsession with Maycey,” said Lily.
Vetch shut his mouth on his comeback. First, because he could tell Lily was dead serious, which was completely unexpected. But also, because she was now an officer.
“How do you mean?” Vetch whispered.
Sinofar guffawed. “Do you need me to—?”
“Because, my dear friend,” Lily interrupted, “you’re a killer too.” She cleared her throat. “Sergeant Arunsen’s right. Everyone button it and get ready. That includes you, Sinofar.”
Phantom’s security lead hesitated as she considered her place in the new ship’s roster. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Over at the Corrupted position, the two central trucks backed away, leaving space for the animals to charge through.
All he had to face, for the moment, was a pack of eight-legged creatures with thick folds of hide and horns that jutted over a meter beyond their eyes. They were the size of the juvenile Saruswine who’d served him well on Rho-Torkis.
Around fifty enemy soldiers advanced behind the animals, a little less than half the Corrupted troop count.
The beasts thundered toward the gate, their hooves kicking up more dust than the trucks had. An ululating wail split the air like a leaky civic defense siren. Without a doubt, there was a touch of evil to these creatures that had been absent from the Saruswine.
That was good. Since riding the Saruswine, Vetch hadn’t liked the idea of hurting dumb animals. But dumb, evil animals were fair game.
He checked his PPR3 one last time and then stood up in his stationary tub’s firing cage, resting his blaster’s barrel across the groove cut for that purpose.
Tapping his wrist to shut down the distraction of the drone feed, he trained his Mark1 eyeball through his blaster’s view scope until he got a sight picture on the hole in the wall.
Despite the scope’s damping and the vehicle’s suspension, his view trembled as the stampeding animals shook the ground. Shoulder to shoulder, the heavy beasts shot through the gap, the lead animals hunching their bodies in anticipation of jabbing with the lances stuck onto the tops of their heads.
But there was no one there to be gutted. Instead of barricading the entrance with the armored tubs, Sybutu’s plan had been to leave it wide open.
The solid press of animals carried forward under their immense momentum, pushing inside the hexagon. Gradually, they slowed until they reached the ploughed ground, which soaked up the last of their momentum. They halted, milling around, and staring at the four hover-tubs that were a safe half klick away from the gap, sheltering against the wall.
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