He climbed the staircase to the laser batteries, and found Jezrul there.
Jezrul looked grim, and worried as Rudy came up to him. “The men have not returned,” he said. “They should have been back last night. Something has happened, but nothing has been seen. People are falling sleeping at their posts here.”
“Everyone is exhausted, First Counselor, they’ve been without sleep for two days. I will stay with you to watch the scanners, but please let the others sleep the rest of the day. Queal would not dare to make a move in daylight, and we need our people fresh tonight.
“What people we have left, you mean. How many, forty? And that’s counting the gun crews.”
“We’ll destroy them at sea, First Counselor, but the crews must be rested and alert to accomplish that.”
“Then let them rest, but I want everyone back here by dusk. The attack will come tonight, I can feel it.” Jezrul’s voice quivered as if he perceived impending doom.
“They can be called back in an instant, and we are rested. You and I will be the eyes of Our Lord.”
Jezrul grumbled something inaudible, perhaps a curse, and Rudy gave the orders to the crews. They tumbled gleefully from their positions and hurried from the great dome housing the batteries, nodding thanks to Rudy as they passed by him.
Jezrul glowered at Rudy. “Queal has somehow tricked me, or his starship is still alive and has sent reinforcements to the mainland, yet none of those fools have seen anything,” he grumbled. “Some of our best troops were in those boats.”
“And the best remain here,” said Rudy. “These weapons will spread their ashes on the sea long before they can reach us.” Rudy frowned, for there was fear in Jezrul’s eyes, a dangerous fear that disturbed his own confidence in the power of the lasers to fend off an attack.
“They will come at us with support from the air, perhaps four of their aircraft with missiles and heavy projectile cannon. They can blow this rock to pieces.”
“At most there will only be one aircraft and we will shoot it down the way we did the other. One burst will be enough.”
“Kari said four,” growled Jezrul.
“She lies, First Counselor. We saw only two, and one is gone. She will say anything to protect her own people, to give them an advantage. She is our enemy.”
“I have other means of questioning her,” said Jezrul, and there was a horrible glint in his eyes.
For an awful instant Rudy thought Jezrul might go to question the woman. “Not now, First Counselor, not when we must be here. Wait until the crews have returned. Please, I cannot operate both scanners at the same time and we really can’t be certain when the attack will come. Please, Jezrul, not now.”
Rudy’s concern was genuine, and it showed in his voice and eyes. Jezrul looked at him carefully and shrugged his shoulders. “Very well, it can wait. I will take the optical scanner first. I want you to do a complete IR scan of the sky from horizon to horizon and look for that ship!”
They went about their tasks in silence, sitting only a meter apart, and ignored each other for hours. Rudy searched and searched, looking for the signature of a thruster burn, and saw nothing. Above the island summits barely visible at this distance the plume he was familiar with glowed green, an anvil-shape formed by the wind. He had long ago decided the phenomenon had a natural origin, some kind of volcanic vent near the mountaintops. Finally Rudy sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
“I see nothing to indicate a ship in orbit. If it’s up there, the engines are shut down or it is indeed dead. Nothing at sea, either.”
“Watch the sea, then, south and west,” said Jezrul curtly. “A group of men in a boat could show up in IR before I see them. If the attack is to be this evening, they will already be moving. And look for any signs of aircraft.”
Rudy returned to his careful observations of the monitor screen, but nothing was there, and when Jezrul spoke again a few minutes later Rudy was ready for it, his reply rehearsed.
“Has Toth been informed about our present status? Has he asked about the men we sent to the mainland?” Jezrul spoke without moving his head, his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.
“Our Lord has chosen not to make himself available to us for the moment. When I called him this morning he did not appear, so I assume he’s resting and does not wish to be disturbed. It has happened in the past.”
“It’s just as well, since we have no good news to bring him.”
“Yes, the past days have weighed heavily on him, but I’m confident his strength will return quickly and he’ll be there for us when we need him. I checked the life-support system this morning and all is well. A few more hours of quiet sleep should do the rest.”
Jezrul’s voice remained calm and his eyes never left the viewing screen. “Regardless of what happens to Our Lord, Rudy, your loyalty and care for Him will be remembered and rewarded.”
“Thank you, Jezrul.” Rudy stared at the screen in front of him, careful not to smile. The seed had been planted, a seed he hoped would soon bare fruit, but not too soon, for now Toth rested, gaining strength, and when the time was right, Rudy hoped he would be sent to fetch Jezrul for one final meeting with His Lord whom he had tried to murder.
He wanted to be there at the moment of Jezrul’s death.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sky was clear and filled with stars. A cluster only thousands of light years away illuminated the sea like a moon. The sailboats destined to be diversionary targets for Toth’s weapons moved out first, spread out into an arc and headed east under half-sail. The Gull would follow quickly from behind them at the first sign of fire. The main attack force—speedboat and three sailing craft—headed west around the island, then south and east. When the eastern tip of the island was due north of them the speedboat shut down its engine and was towed by the others. Krisha commanded the speedboat, and it was filled with twenty marines she’d handpicked for the first wave, all of them people who’d seen action at the village. Michael, Mootry, Osen and Nimri were together in Davos’s boat with a mixture of marines and villagers who’d been under fire on the island and considered themselves veterans. The boat running parallel to them was crammed with fresh marines from Belsus who were going into combat for the first time, but the two boats were intended to hit the island simultaneously as a second wave in the attack, coming in a hundred meters behind Krisha and her troops when the entrance to the stronghold was blown.
Michael felt the dread of approaching combat: sweaty palms, an aching hollow in his stomach, and the whirling visions of family, friends—Gini. He looked at Mootry and Osen, father and son standing silently next to him, eyes scanning the sea. What were they thinking? It was only a short time they’d had together, a time that might soon end with the violent death of one or both of them. Perhaps they thought of the woman they had both loved, and lost.
He worried about Krisha, her lover a captive for days, perhaps dead. She’d been unusually quiet during the loading that evening, her face painted black, a determined, dangerous-looking mask. Would she stick with her troops, or run off alone in search of Kari once they were inside? His instincts told him she would be professional and put the operation first in her mind. And if Kari were found injured or dead? Well, he wouldn’t bet a dime on any of the lives of those who defended the stronghold, and that included Toth, whoever or whatever he was.
In some ways Michael felt empathy for Nimri. Here he was, without any weapon except his staff, careening towards a violent confrontation with a man he still believed in, a man he thought deceived by Jezrul and his followers and guilty only of defending a society and a world created by him, a father who sought to protect his chosen people from the evil influence of outsiders. Would he seek out Toth and try to reason with him, or would he, in the midst of battle, suddenly become an enemy? Somehow, Michael trusted him to do the right thing, though perhaps it was because the man was Davos’s son, and Gini’s brother.
Gini’s face was as clear in his mind as if s
he was standing next to him, and his heart skipped a beat. She was waiting for him as she had waited for a husband to come back from the sea. ‘You’ll break her heart” Davos had said, but that was not his intention. He wanted to return whole and live out his life with her, thought of her standing on the beach, waiting, then a skiff rowing to shore, bearing his lifeless body, her cry of grief, the tears...
Michael was jolted back to reality; knuckles white from his strangle hold on the rifle. He suddenly wanted to talk to Davos, but the man was at the tiller and a tightly packed mass of people separated them.
Osen caught his eye. “You okay, Major?”
Michael wondered about what had prompted the question. His face? “Just thinking,” he said.
“Now’s the time,” said Floyd, not looking at them, “then you put it aside and get the job done. You remember that, Mike? Nothing in your head except the present, and staying alive. That’s how the kids with Krisha get to be old dogs like us.”
“I remember, Floyd,” said Michael, and patted the man on the shoulder.
They huddled shoulder to shoulder in the early morning cold, looked north and saw nothing but water. The big island was now a faint silhouette to the west and north as Davos forged ahead, navigating only by the stars, estimating his speed by sight, the speedboat following with Krisha a statue at its bow. Michael’s anxiety grew, and his stomach knotted as they awaited the first hint of light at the horizon that would signal them to turn north.
An eternity later it appeared, and they turned north after shortening sail, and slowed to a crawl with the weight of the speedboat pulling back on them. Long oars appeared, six of them, and set between thole pins by the villagers who would soon man them. By Michael’s watch they had sailed north for less than an hour when Davos shouted and the villagers leapt to haul down sail. Davos detached the stern line to the speedboat and Krisha hauled it in as they drifted slowly, and then slowed to a stop. Only now did the engine of the speedboat cough, then catch with a low growl. The boat eased up alongside them and Krisha gave them a thumb’s up as they went past, moving out in front of the sailboats and idling west. Villagers jumped to the oars and rowed in unison as Krisha and her armored, visored marines pulled slowly away from them.
Toth’s island would be directly ahead of them now. Michael squinted ahead in semi-darkness, looked for a shape, a reflection that might be a rock, a flash of light that could be a laser beam searching for them. This far out, without sail, the motor of the speedboat shielded by the hull, they should be invisible to Toth’s scanners. He was encouraged by the layer of mist ahead, lying low to the water, an inversion layer to scatter Toth’s signals, at least until they were within sight. Krisha’s boat was fifty meters out, now, still pulling away as the villagers grunted and pulled on the oars.
A half-hour later the island appeared as a dark nipple rising from the mist dead ahead of them. It looked far away, but was not far away, for Derald had said it was little more than a monstrous boulder above sea level. The stars above were now fading and an orange glow had appeared at the eastern horizon. They rowed steadily, Krisha keeping her distance from a hundred meters out, and then suddenly the engine of her boat roared. The bow rose as she streaked away from them. Michael’s heart jumped as he squinted, and saw colors flashing around the island, streams of color flickering in the mist.
Davos shouted, “Up sail!” and oars creaked as the men bent their backs. Laser fire. The island was firing at boats lying in mist on the southern side. The boat jumped as sails filled, and the men were pulling hard, faces glistening. Krisha’s boat was far ahead, visible only by its wake and the island was larger now, a thumb of rock turning from black to ocher in the first, weak light of pre-dawn. To the south of it rose a curl of smoke from what had to be a burning boat. Light sparkled in mist again and there was more smoke, and a flash of fire. Michael thought of men in the water, their boats in ruins, struggling to stay afloat and waiting for a Charni to come, and then there was a terrible flash from the island summit, and for an instant he thought the lasers had found them in the east. He ducked instinctively and saw a second flash and then it seemed as if the south side of the island summit just disappeared, an eruption of rock and dust forming a plume drifting down to the sea. Seconds later the sound reached him, the hollow booms of explosions followed by the high-speed rattle of what had to be the Gatling gun of Gull One. Smoke poured from the south side of the island as the villagers broke into cheers.
“Gull coming in!” yelled Osen, and Michael thought he meant the floating weapons platform they’d wired together until he saw rapid movement north of them at sea level, a flat shape streaking east and turning, wings vertical, coming back at terrible speed right on the water and throwing up two long lines of geysers as it came. Gull Two came past them in a blur, releasing two missiles running parallel in white lines towards the base of the island and this time a flash of fire was instantly followed by the roar of an explosion that deafened them. The Gull veered north, turned to make another pass and now Michael could see the island was only hundreds of meters away, a black opening at its base and from the opening streamed laser fire, tiny figures scrambling around it, the crackle of assault rifles reaching him. Another explosion flashed at the base. A satchel charge. The Gull had just completed its turn for another pass and was coming in higher this time, releasing a missile before reaching them. The missile ran straight and level to strike the summit of the island, blowing it away with a white flash.
A hundred meters out they saw flashes as Krisha’s troops filled the rock’s interior with concussion and fragmentation grenades, saw them scrambling inside, heard rifles crackling on full-automatic, and then a single scream. Michael looked up and was amazed; a cloud of black, white, yellow, and red, a living cloud belched from the summit of the rock and flew crazily around it, coming low overhead. Birds of all descriptions, and butterflies, fluttering past them, the birds screeching in terror and then, obeying some instinct, circling the island and soaring out over the sea towards the mainland. Davos charged straight for the entrance where the speedboat laid half in and half out of the water, its bow resting on a platform partially raised. Oars were pulled in, sails crashing, and then villagers and marines alike were pressed behind Michael as he teetered on the bow. The adrenalin rush in his body was like fire as the bow crashed into the speedboat, and in one instant his instincts for survival, unused for over fifteen years, were suddenly there again.
Speed, speed, speed.
Michael leapt into the speedboat, bounced off a seat and onto the platform, and then swung up onto the rock where a marine lay with a single burn in his chest, eyes glazed over. Rifle fire roared from the dark cavern in front of him, and he darted left to the edge of the entrance where a marine crouched, frantically motioning for him to get down and stay left. One more burst of fire as he huddled against the marine and then a shout from inside; “Clear!”
An answering shout, deeper inside. “Clear! Going in!”
Krisha’s voice.
A door clanged, and there was another burst of fire, the sound of boots pounding rock, and fading.
“Now!” said the marine and Michael followed him into the cavern, glancing over a shoulder to see Mootry right behind him, grinning crazily. The cavern was a docking bay, two bodies in the water, one a marine. Shattered bodies lay on the walkways and platforms around the bay, men dressed in black with visored helmets. Toth’s troops. Beyond the bay was an open metal door. A marine stood there, beckoning. They trotted up to him.
“Captain says stay on this level! She’s looking for a way up to the laser batteries! She says stay out of stairwells and elevators, but clean out and occupy this level!”
Michael peeked around the doorway and saw a hall curving to his right; empty except for two visored bodies sprawled there. He moved slowly down the hall, a sweaty back pressed against a wall, past three rooms, doors open, one splattered with debris and what was left of a man after a grenade explosion. Gunfire sounded from ahead,
but distant. He came around the curve of the wall and saw a marine crouched ahead, waving him on. He trotted, saw a stairwell leading up and down, and heard scattered gunfire coming from above. “They went up here,” said the marine. “You’re to take the rest of this level, and watch yourselves! We saw people run that way, and you’re on point from here on!”
Michael nodded, scooted along the wall and Mootry jumped to the wall opposite him. Osen stepped up between them, right in the center, rifle leveled at his waist as he shuffle-stepped ahead of them, swinging the muzzle back and forth. He came to a closed door, pounded on it, stepped back. No answer. He stepped back again and fired a burst, destroying lock and door. The room was empty, someone’s living quarters.
“In front!” screamed Mootry, his rifle swinging around.
Two visored men jumped to the center of the hall meters in front of them, firing as they appeared. Three assault rifles roared in unison, splattering the men against the walls, Osen grunted, and behind them someone screamed. Michael looked back, saw a villager writhing on the floor and holding his leg. Osen’s cheek had been seared by a near miss. He gritted his teeth, pulled out a grenade, tapped its base on the wall and flipped it back-handed down the corridor to ricochet off a wall and roll out of sight. Men screamed a split-second before the explosion belched rock and smoke and the remains of a laser rifle skittered up to Michael’s feet. He charged, saw three men down, two obviously dead with blood-splattered visors, the third a robed counselor, sitting with his back against a wall, legs bloodied. As they approached, the man held up a buzzing staff and waved it at them ineffectively until a villager walked up grinning, jerked it from his hand and clubbed him over the head with it.
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