by Rick Shelley
‘ ‘And Khyber, sir?” Miles asked.
‘ ‘I want Khyber to make the voyage in three transits as well, spaced not quite as closely together as the MRs. Twelve hours out before the first jump, twelve hours between transits, and entering Buckingham’s system no more than eighteen hours out from the surface. That’s likely to set off all sorts of defensive alerts back there, if the MRs don’t get through first. But I believe they will.”
“Most likely,” Miles conceded. “The evidence of the Buchanan MR is overwhelming, the more so because it must have been a nearly obsolete model.”
“Quite,” Truscott said with a short laugh. “It was several decades old. That adds considerably to my confidence that we can safely take these steps. I wouldn’t risk Khyber if I thought there was one chance in a million that it wasn’t safe.”
“When should I leave?” Miles asked.
“You could take a moment to start Khyber toward your first transit point now, Dever. I’ll transmit the dispatches to you shortly.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll be back online in thirty seconds.”
• • •
“Obviously you don’t think there’s the slightest risk to Khyber or Buckingham in this,” Prince William said after the conference ended. Khyber was already accelerating toward its first transit point. Admiral Truscott had given orders to Mort Hardesty to prepare for the launch of the message rockets as well. ‘
‘Is this just a matter of cutting down the time needed for strategic movements, or is there more to it? If I may ask.”
“I don’t think that ‘just’ is quite the word for it, sir,” Truscott said. “It’s a point I’ve suspected for a great many years but never had the opportunity to test. The early generations of Nilssen generators were so cranky and unpredictable that we’re still quivering with fear of some unspeakable catastrophe. We tread around our Nilssens as if they were some bloody piece of magic that we’re too damn ignorant to understand. We don’t want to risk ‘offending’ the genie, or some such rot. That MR the Buchanan people sent was a particular stroke of luck. I never could obtain Admiralty approval for an experiment of that nature, even with MRs, and I tried. And although I don’t have specific authorization for this experiment, I made it clear to Long John that I intended to make use of the possibilities that MR offered, and he concurred.” Truscott chuckled. It hadn’t been quite that simple, but his authority as fleet commander was broad enough to make up the difference—as long as the experiments worked.
“Think of the time delay for travel between systems,” Truscott continued. “It takes fourteen days to go from a planet in one solar system to a planet in another solar system. We make three Qspace transits, the first to take us to an uncluttered region of space with maximum separation from any stellar masses, the second to take us more or less laterally toward the region of our destination, and the final jump to take us to the specific system we want to reach. That’s a fortnight lost even if we’re only going from Buckingham to Lorenzo.” Lorenzo was only six light years from Buckingham, the nearest habitable world to the Commonwealth capital.
The prince started to speak, but Truscott waved him off. “I know, Lorenzo is a poor example. We do that jump in one transit now. But it was civilian traffic that provoked that, and there are only a handful of one jump routes, and still a five day lag before and three days after the transit. Eight days to make a trip that could be done in less than one.”
“Demonstrating that will change life considerably,” William ventured, “and not merely in military affairs.”
“At the moment, military affairs are uppermost in my mind,” Truscott said, “but you’re correct. It should tie the worlds of the Commonwealth together much more closely.”
‘ ‘Do we have any idea how long the Federation takes to make transits?” Ian asked.
“Not the military,” Truscott said. “The evidence we have for civilian traffic is sketchy, but some skippers are reputed to cut several days off of every journey. It’s something they tend to be reluctant to discuss.”
“You apparently don’t think that we have several weeks to enjoy freedom of action here,” William suggested.
“Frankly, I’d be surprised if we have two weeks,” Truscott replied. “That is at the heart of the dispatches I sent to the Admiralty and to His Majesty. Referring to the losses we’ve apparently suffered at Camerein, I stated my considered military opinion that we’re likely to face a massive response from Federation forces and asked for immediate reinforcement.”
“Using new guidelines for Qspace transits,” William said.
“Exactly.”
“If I might be so bold, Admiral,” the prince said.
“Would it be possible for me to add a dispatch of my own to the collection? For what good it might do, I would like to add my endorsement.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Truscott stood and gave the prince a formal court bow. “I would appreciate that.”
“You’ve really got yourself around him,” Ian told the prince when they finally left the admiral fifteen minutes later. William’s dispatches had been added to the MRs and to those that Khyber was carrying.
“When we were first told that you would be accompanying us…” Ian stopped and grinned. “I suppose I really shouldn’t talk about that. I’ll just say that his reaction was rather less than enthusiastic.”
“People always expect me to be somehow different, just because of who my parents were, who my brother is.” William sounded tired, or perhaps just discouraged by the topic. “Royal competence always seems to come as a complete shock.” He noticed Ian’s raised eyebrow and grinned. “Not a particularly diplomatic statement, was that?”
“Not particularly,” Ian agreed. “But then, I’m used to hearing statements like that. It’s one of the burdens of my position.” Both men laughed at that.
“That may be why we hit it off so well, Ian. In many ways, your position is very much like my own.”
21
David Spencer and Doug Weintraub made their way back to the I&R platoon from the battalion command bunker. It was close to noon, less than nine hours after the ambush.
“First the good news,” David told his squad. “Roger is doing smashingly well. He’s out of the trauma tube and he’ll be back with us tomorrow or the day after.”
“What’s the bad news?” Alfie asked.
“Get your skates on,” Spencer said. “We’re off out in twenty minutes. Delta of the Fourth is coming up and we’re heading for the river with them, as soon as they get here.”
“What about the engineers?” Tory asked. “I thought Delta was minding them.”
“Delta’s leaving them a squad or two, I guess. Other than that, the engineers will have to watch their own tails for a bit,” David said.
“We just going to the river, or across it?” Alfie asked.
“Across,” David said. “And, no, there’s no bridge yet. We’ve got a load of Perry boats down from Thames.”
“I knew them engineers was useless,” Alfie said with disgust. ‘ ‘Just takin’ up space we coulda used for real Marines.”
“I think maybe the admiral agrees,” David said. “They’re still a mile short of here with their road.”
Alfie nodded toward Doug. “Looks like you blokes’ll get yourselves a brand spanking new road leading from nowhere to nowhere.”
Doug smiled. “Someday we may even need it. If the forest doesn’t take it back first.”
“By the time our precious engineers get through, the forest wouldn’t want it back.” Alfie was the only one to laugh at his joke.
“Maybe your admiral would let us borrow them for a few years,” Doug said lightly. “We could use some civil engineering.”
“Nothin’ very ‘civil’ about our engineers,” Alfie retorted.
“A few years, maybe they’d finish this road up to the river,” Jacky added.
“Okay, lads, off your butts,” Spencer said, coming back from a quick tour of the rest of t
he platoon.
They were all going on this mission. “Here comes Delta.” He gestured east at the two columns of Marines moving into the area.
“I suppose they want us to find a path?” Alfie said.
“Yes, but look at the bright, Alfielad, they’re going to carry the Perry boats,” Spencer said.
“That’s a surprise,” Alfie agreed.
Lieutenant Asa Ewing came over to Spencer and the group around him. David saluted.
“We’re ready to go, sir. This is Mr. Doug Weintraub, a member of the Buchanan Planetary Commission, one of the men who’ve been giving the Feddies a hard way to go.”
Ewing extended a hand. “Glad to meet you, sir. You took out those shuttles?”
Doug took the hand. “Our only real contribution so far, I’m afraid.”
“That’s not the way Colonel Laplace tells it,” Ewing said. “You have any ideas where we should hit the river?”
“Unless there are Federation troops hidden between here and there, it doesn’t much matter. There are paths aplenty through these woods. And the river, well, down this far, it’s all pretty much the same. If you want to hit the river between our towns, we need to head in that direction.” He pointed just a little south of due west.
Ewing nodded. “That’s the plan, sir. Gives us more flexibility. Past that, depends on what the Feddies do when the other battalions start to move in from the west.”
“In case no one’s mentioned it yet,” Doug said, hesitating, “most all of our houses have sturdy cellars beneath them.”
Ewing glanced at David. “Rooting the Feddies out could get dicey in that case,” he said.
“But if there aren’t Federation troops in those cellars, it’ll be our folks,” Doug said. “Time of trouble, that’s where we’d go for safety.”
“We’ll be careful,” Ewing assured him. “That’s the first order of the day, straight from Admiral Truscott himself.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Doug said.
“We’ll deal with the cellars when and if we have to, Doug,” David added. “There are ways to clear a cellar or bunker without doing permanent damage to people or anything else. If worse comes to worst, like if there are Feddies holed with some of your people, we can use stun buns— shock grenades—to get in. Makes a bloke feel like hell for a few minutes after he wakes up, but won’t hurt him past the immediate shock and discomfort.”
“I’m not sure if I’m relieved or not,” Doug said.
“I’ve been hit by one myself,” David said. “It’s not pleasant, but you get over it in a hurry.”
“Sergeant Spencer, you want to start your people toward the river?” Ewing said. “We’ll put patrols on the flanks and behind.”
“Aye, sir,” David said. He looked at the Marines of Delta Company and saw the two dozen Perry boats they were carrying. The plastic inflatables each made a real load for two men, but a Perry could carry fifteen fully equipped Marines.
David quickly deployed his men. Hugo Kassner and third squad were first out. Second and fourth squads were positioned behind and to either side of third. David kept first squad in the center of the wedge. If necessary, his men could provide instant reinforcement for any of the others. If not, they would spell third squad on the point the last half of the distance to the river.
In daylight, the forest posed no hazards of its own. There were no choke points forcing all of the Marines to follow one path, which cut down on the danger of land mines or booby traps. Explosives could be detected by helmet sensors, with a certain amount of attention to detail by the men wearing the helmets.
A more insidious danger might be posed by more primitive traps, those that didn’t rely on electronics or explosives. Neither sort of defense had been tripped or spotted by any of the patrols out the night before, and it was unlikely that any of the Federation troops could be out laying that sort of trap now, in daylight, so close to Commonwealth positions.
But the Marines remained alert.
David’s throat was dry throughout the march, a familiar stress reaction that he discounted as far as he could. One man couldn’t look everywhere at once. He had to trust that his comrades would do their jobs properly.
Communication was over helmet complinks. There were more than enough channels available, scrambled to make interception of messages effectively impossible. The Commonwealth forces had no need to mask their presence the way the Federation troops were, so the Marines had more than their helmets to draw on. There were fewer Spacehawks in evidence than there had been the day before, but shuttles orbited over the area to provide surveillance and longrange sensors on the ships overhead contributed to the general intelligence.
“Haven’t you any idea at all where the Federation troops are hiding?” Doug asked David Spencer over a private link.
“Not the foggiest,” David replied. “Once they turn their helmets off, they’re damn near invisible. Same reason they couldn’t find your lot—no electronics to give you away, and that thick hide you were ducked out in is almost as good a shield against infrared detection as our field skins.”
“That’s what we hoped,” Doug admitted. “It was all by guess and by God though. We didn’t really know any of it.”
“Last night, we didn’t see you until you started shooting.”
“But you think the enemy must still be in or around Sam and Max?”
“Until we know different for certain, we have to assume that,” David said. “There are limits to how far they could have moved on foot without giving themselves away. At most, I’d guess they couldn’t be more than fifteen or twenty miles from your towns right now, probably a lot less.”
That conversation lapsed. David reported to Lieutenant Ewing and Captain McAuliffe when they reached the halfway point. First and third squads switched positions in the opening wedge, and David put Tory on point, with Alfie and Jacky close to support him.
“Set up a line fifty yards short of the river,” Ewing told David. “We’ll get the Perry boats inflated then. Set up cover for the crossing and move straight over to the west bank.”
“Yes, sir,” David replied over the command channel. “Doug informs me that there’s little cover down close to the river in any case. Fifty yards back should put us right about the edge of the trees.”
“Fine, use that for your guide then,” Ewing said. “My mapboard shows the width of the river fairly constant. Any word on the current?”
David checked with Doug before he replied. “Not too bad, sir, no more than two miles per hour. Wide and shallow.”
But the crossing would put the Marines out in the open, without cover, for five or six minutes, with nowhere to go in case of attack—except into the water with its muddy bottom. The only counter was to cross in three groups, and bring in a couple of Spacehawks to take on any enemy that showed itself. The Perry boats were equipped with compressed gas to provide propulsion, enough for a short crossing like this one. The Marines augmented the gas jets with oars. I&R platoon went first, with one platoon of Delta Company. As soon as they were ashore on the western bank, and in sound defensive positions, the next group crossed, and then the last. None of them came under fire. Early in the afternoon, even the hippobary offered no obstacle. They were, according to Doug, mostly inert lumps during the hottest hours of the day, resting up for their nocturnal roaming. The animals were easy to avoid, floating with only their backs and the tops of their heads visible, lifting their snouts to breathe once every two minutes or so.
“The Park is a bit more wild than the forest we came through,” Doug told David and Ewing. “Besides the native growth, there are a lot of plants that have migrated from our gardens and such. We tried to keep it all native, sort of a memorial for the time when we’ve taken over the entire area, but there’s been some slippage. But the paths are marked better. None of them are paved, but they’re packed so hard they might as well be.”
David opened up his mapboard and narrowed the scale until it showed only the area betwee
n the two communities, down to the edge of the river.
“Where would you suggest that Federation troops might be most likely to hole up?” David asked.
“There’s all kinds of secluded nooks,” Doug said, pointing out several small clearings on the chart. ‘ ‘A lot of them only have one decent way in or out, with thickets and vines in the trees around them.” He chuckled. “Generations of young couples have decided to get married in those outoftheway spots.
And many have gone a lot farther than a peck on the cheek there. A lot of privacy, a lot of warning if anyone’s coming in.”
“In other words, a pain in the butt to handle,” Ewing muttered.
“We never anticipated the need for military operations in the Park.”
“I know, Mr. Weintraub,” Ewing said. “It wasn’t meant to be a criticism. You can’t run normal lives under the fear that someday, somehow, someone might come along and do something like this. There’d be no room for romance in a galaxy like that.”
“Works two ways, sir,” David suggested. “It may narrow our access to them, but they’ll have as much trouble getting at us. Best way to handle the hairy spots would be to wait for dark. Feddies would have to turn on their helmets to spot us then, and we’ll know the second they do. We can use what’s left of daylight to make contacts in the towns.”
“Sounds good to me,” Doug said. “We get a chance to talk to some of our people, we may have a better notion where the enemy is hiding.”
“Which way do you suggest we go first?” Ewing asked.
“Max,” Doug said immediately. He pointed to the northern community on the mapboard. “It’s built up a little more. The homes are closer together. Makes it easier for folks to see what’s going on around them.
And there’s this gully, right on the edge, between the Park and the town. That’ll give us cover until we’re right in town.” He traced the route. “There’s only water in that gully during the rainy season, and not always then. Not much more than weeds in it now.”