Damn this place, thought Chalkley. It makes a joke of everything we do. ‘Too late. It is too late, Trahern.’ Damn. ‘The Armourer is beyond contact. The sky is down the way he went. We couldn’t send scouts even if we had the time.’ Two craft. ‘Sorry, Gati.’
Chalkley looked out over the low. The enemy was streaming over the ridge and out onto the flat ground. ‘It is bad here too. They have pushed us off the ridge. We can’t disengage. Mancine will have to make a stand at the far edge of the low or fight his way sideways to get to the saddle.’ Without suits the latter would be damn near impossible.
Now Chalkley knew why the Armourer had given him command of the centre. At the time, he was so relieved and pleased to be in the action that he hadn’t thought any further. Now he knew that the Armourer hadn’t done him any favours. That poor man had thought it through and placed him here to take charge of the remnants if it went bad.
‘This is pretty much going to be it, Trahern. I’ll get the survivors back to the fort.’ Back down the valley, along the cable. Then it hit him. The Greys must be flying right over the cable, at high speed to power through the fields. No room to turn, and when the valley lifts they will run out of space. I’m surprised they made it as far as the fort. They must mean to crash land their ships on the valley floor. If the fields don’t get them when they slow, and they make it, I’ll pick them up on the way in. The thought cheered him. The Greys would be good companions for the last battle.
‘We will keep the enemy busy until the end, one way or another,’ Chalkley said confidently.
‘What is your position, Captain?’
‘We’re on the slope below the last saddle.’ He meant to tell Trahern not to try to walk to them, that he would collect them on the way in, but the Grey came straight back on.
‘Better get your heads down.’
CHAPTER 76: AND FORTH
Mike slowed as he neared the end of the flat. His lungs ached from sucking in the dusty air. Tonno waved to him from broken ground to his left. Good ground. We can dig in there on the slope. He headed across. This is where we will have to make our stand. We can’t fight our way across to the saddle without suits, not all of us. They would have our flank.
‘Tonno. The wounded?’ We can get them away at least.
‘They are already gone,’ Tonno yelled back. ‘The Captain called for them. He has his squads covering from the saddle.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you go with them?’
The serviceman shook his carbine in answer.
Mike climbed onto a large boulder near the base of the slope and stood tall to survey the low. Damn. The enemy was already half way across. Too many. He turned back to his men. ‘Dig in! We hold here,’ he yelled above the wind. ‘After it hits, we move. As soon as we can, through the confusion. Make for the saddle and join the Captain.’ He was not sure he would go that way. He might just go forward.
Tonno was waving his arms again and calling across, but Mike couldn’t make the words out. He jumped down from the boulder as the first enemy shots came in. Tonno continued to signal urgently, a headset in one hand. The other arm pointed toward the saddle.
Mike turned in time to see it blow out, rock and dust flying forward, men tumbling down the slope. Oh no! The collisions. But there was only the one blast, and two silver shapes came out of the cloud, out of the sky or the slope, he wasn’t sure which. The air lit between the ships and the floor of the low, lasers and particle beam, in swaths hundreds of metres wide, tearing into the enemy and the ground below. The Greys. He knew it even as the word was picked up from Tonno and relayed by the marines.
The one slightly ahead and inside, closer to them, would be Trahern. The other would be Gati. The enemy below did not have a chance. The firepower of the ships was immense. They clear the low for us, but they can’t turn. Not enough room at that speed. Maybe they can. Mike tried to convince himself. They are the best. They got here, didn’t they? ‘Turn,’ he said. But they stayed straight, parallel the bounding ridge, pounding the expanse covered by the enemy.
‘Turn,’ he heard from men around him.
And they did, almost quicker than the eye could follow, crossing over, Gati now trying to take the bend of the ridges around the end of the low, back around toward them. The other craft flew in the opposite direction, at the ridge, in a turn so tight that Mike saw the full silhouette of the ship. Banked, wings up, the craft still had too much momentum for the turn. The shape receded, like a toy thrown sideways from a giant’s hand.
Trahern is doing this to give Gati a chance, thought Mike. There is not enough room for two to attempt the turn. But he was wrong. Mag cannon lit, just before the craft hit. The face of the ridge was pulverised. Out of the dust he saw the silver of the ship, blasting along the ridge. Only metres off at first, the banks of cannon gradually forced the ship clear. Trahern flew canted, mag cannons blasting, all along the slope Mike had abandoned, across the defile and along Delaney’s section, leaving devastation in his wake.
Calls from his left pulled Mike around. Gati was coming down. He had taken the full extent of bend, though the ground carried him high and into a series of pinnacles. A big risk, but that would be Gati.
‘Nooo!’ someone groaned as the sky caught the craft and ripped the tail up into the dark turmoil. But before the cry ended, Gati somehow flicked out. No tail now, he was more like a bullet. He hit the wall of the ridge a glancing blow only to come across and clip one of the spires. Dust and sparks fountained up as he continued to karoom off all of the obstacles in his path. He is doing it on purpose, realised Mike. To slow down to land. This is some flying, without a tail! Bethane would be proud of him.
There was a great cheer, strong enough to rise above the wind, when the craft finally stopped.
Trahern will do better, something neater out on the level ground. These Greys are amazing. Tollen should have seen this. Mike turned to find the other ship. The cannon pass along the ridge had slowed it, and the turn at the end of the low, in front of the saddle, was accomplished with ease. He should come down now, thought Mike. He has to come hard or the fields will get him. Mike signalled the Good Squad to get ready. He would send them at a run to gather the Grey in. The enemy would soon flood over the ridge again. This phenomenon of skill bought some time, that’s all. Nevertheless, Mike felt encouraged. It will be good to have the Greys with us for the last fight. If they could make it here, maybe we can make it back to the fort. Tollen built well. We can hold there until the end.
The ship came over their heads, not in a gradual descent, but in a sharp turn, diving and accelerating, right to the deck, afterburners in their faces as it shot across the low. The imprint of the engines stayed on Mike’s vision long after the craft disappeared through the small triangle of the defile, into the enemy, up their valley road.
Laser light lit up the far sky beyond the ridge. The ground shook once heavily below their feet and the wind brought them the sound of a great detonation.
‘On your feet, marines!’ yelled Mike. ‘The way is clear. Back to the ridge. We will hold. All the good ones may die today, but we will hold!’
CHAPTER 77: AT THE OTHER END
Decisions, worried Steamsetter. Just when you think it is all sorted out and straight-forward, it gets complicated again. Well not complicated, just too many choices.
The enemy was spread out before them. Carriers and trucks were parked in rows across most of the level ground between the road and a rise to the north. Soldiers, from what looked to be a full mercenary company, were on the rise itself, and to the west, where the road swung around and the land wrinkled up to form the mouth of the valley, squatted the long bulky shape of a plasma smelter. That’s their roadmaker … or more likely a spare, thought Steamsetter. The active one would be way down the valley, close to the far end by now. Close to Mancine’s force.
Steamsetter couldn’t help admiring the enemy’s choice. Nothing would stop a plasma smelter. In operation it would crawl forward like an immense meta
l slug, its great mouth ingesting everything in its path. Vaporised by the plasma furnaces, the rock yielded up all its elements. Valuable ones were condensed and stockpiled, the rest were ejected in a glassy slag. The flat snail-trail made a good road.
Steamsetter shook his head to clear it. Seeing the great machine had brought back memories, from before Base. That life was over. Now he had to concentrate on this one, contribute something. The marines had asked for his advice.
He could understand their concerns. If they took the mouth of the valley now, the mercenaries would attack, and when the enemy came back up the valley, they would be caught between. If they attacked the mercenaries there was no guarantee they would be able to overcome them and then move to control the end of the valley. Tane thought the best way to go was to take over as many of the vehicles as they could and jam these in the mouth, to create a physical barrier that they could defend. Long enough, maybe.
Tane’s plan seemed the best to Steamsetter. But they have asked, so I better think it through, the way the Armourer taught me. He drew them in the dirt, each of the scenarios. There was no rush. There was time. Nothing was moving, neither out nor in.
There is another possibility. The smelter. He rose and eased up to the edge of the ditch for another look. Good. The plasma chambers glowed. They were rarely shut down. Took too much power to get them up again. Whoever was commanding the enemy operation had planned well. All the supplies stacked on the parked carriers attested to that. The stars alone knew, how much equipment, and how many men, had already been delivered down the roadway. Steamsetter feared for Mancine’s group. What do you face, Mike? Maybe there would be no need for the enemy to come back out this end.
‘Anyone have thermal glasses or a sight? I need to know if the engines are running on the drives on the smelter.’ Time. It was a matter of time. The mercenaries could stop them if they had to warm up the drives. Steamsetter’s hope lay with the enemy commander’s efficiency.
‘They’re hot, ready to go,’ called one off the scouts.
Steamsetter turned to the waiting marines. ‘Tane. Your plan is best. With one change. Go for the smelter. One vehicle instead of many. Less risk. We drive it into the mouth of the valley. I know these machines. The controls are simple. Once in the valley, we open the ingestion ports and bog it in. It is big enough to damn near block the valley on its own. With the ports open and the furnaces on, it will be too hot to approach. The front is also shielded above. We will only have to protect the rear.’
‘Good,’ said Tane. ‘You and the scouts take the smelter. The rest of us will create a diversion and hold off those mercs.’ He turned to the other squad leaders. ‘One squad to blast the carriers and hit the mercs from the far end. Get them facing that way, away from the valley. There is open ground between the mercs and the smelter on this end. We have to get a squad all the way across onto the rise, to set up a cross fire with the last squad back in here where the road swings.’
They know what to do now. Better than I, thought Steamsetter.
‘Remember. The aim is too keep them off long enough to get the smelter into the valley.’ Tane lectured the men around him. ‘If we can take out all the mercs, well and good, but that is not the objective. Look out for surprises from the carriers. There could be a heavy weapon or more men in there.’ He glanced across. ‘What happens if the smelter gets hit?’
‘It’s pretty solid,’ replied Steamsetter. ‘They are built to work in hostile terrains. But a heavy weapon could disrupt the furnaces. If that happens there could be a hell of a detonation. There is a lot of energy contained in the plasma.’
Steamsetter saw that news sink in. It only subdued them for a moment before smiles broke out. If it goes bad it may be a race to see who blows the smelter first. There were times when these marines were frightening.
‘Let’s set our timing,’ said Tane.
‘Wait,’ said Steamsetter. ‘There may be no need to move at all. If nothing comes back out.’ No one wanted to think that through, he could tell. But the Armourer had trained him well. Plan for all outcomes. If the enemy has won out of the valley, then there is no requirement to block this end. The priority would switch to the Passage. To get there as quickly as possible and assist the Amazons. ‘We shouldn’t move until we have a reason to.’ Preserve your options for as long as possible. Another bit of advice.
‘Form your parties,’ ordered Tane. ‘Set up along the ditch. Scouts and Steamsetter this side. Mine and Jay’s here in the middle. Jacob’s up the end. Jacob, you’re the diversion.’ Tane smiled across to Steamsetter. ‘Then sit and wait.’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘I’m sure it won’t be long, either way.’
Tane was right. Reasons to move suddenly boiled out of the narrow valley. Four carriers came out backwards, tracks screaming and sliding. Not trying to stay on the road, they ran straight back parallel to the smelter and onto the foot of the rise. Good, thought Steamsetter. They are between the mercenaries and the smelter. More cover for us. Behind the carriers came a strange convoy. An armoured carrier with the stub of a mag cannon protruding led two tracked vehicles, oddly fitted with long box-like containers, followed by yet another armoured carrier. Discs on the side of the boxes glowed. Not discs, windows!
‘That’s their command,’ yelled Steamsetter. ‘Hold, Tane.’
A flash of silver shot out of the valley. Low. It clipped the side of the smelter, shearing the superstructure, to spin sideways just over the carriers and into the ground of the rise, scattering the mercenaries. Its speed was such that it skipped back into the air, rising almost to the sky before rolling and slashing back towards the ground, disappearing into the distance. Someone is flying that, and Trahern, came to Steamsetter’s mind in the same millisecond. A long spray of dust at the far edge of his vision told of the craft’s landing.
‘Scouts. Get to the Grey and bring him in.’ If it was Trahern, he would be alive. Steamsetter had no doubt about that. And there must be a good reason for the Grey to have done something so suicidal. ‘Tane. Those two odd carriers contain their command. Take two squads and wipe them out. Get the cannons first. The last squad goes with me to the smelter.’
The Armourer’s plan was working. The enemy was on the run. Mad Mike must have held. Now for us to do our part.
CHAPTER 78: DEAD MAN’S PANTS
‘Damn them. Cut them. Kill them.’ Bley swore with every step. His anger had no eloquence. No names or elaboration. He hated everything.
His eyes were fixed on the man ahead of him. He hated him because his legs were good. A bullet had punched through the Black Hand’s shoulder, blowing out the back of the suit. That was why he was slow, why he had fallen behind. But you don’t need your shoulder to walk. We have to walk, to catch the others. You need legs and my leg is hurt. ‘My leg is hurt!’ he screamed. The figure in front of him plodded on. There was blood seeping through the bandages inside the ruined suit. Bley could see it. He wished for it to well up in a final flow. Die, you bastard with legs.
Later, as they struggled up a slope that made them use their hands, he saw blood spread onto the outside of the suit. Good, he thought; then his mind quailed. Blood will bring the creatures! He looked down to his own leg. Blood!
He had broken off the punched in fragment that had cut him by working it back and forth with his belt pliers, but in doing so had cracked the suit leg down the side of the calf. Patches wouldn’t hold. The crack worked as he walked. Now it was pinching the bandages he had stuffed in the hole and squeezing out blood at every step. He dropped to the ground and scoured the suit leg with sand. Get rid of the blood, the trace. He taped and bogged the outside with the last of his repair kit. He stood and it flexed. It won’t hold! I can’t fix it! ‘I need legs!’ he cried in frustration and fear. That fear swelled when he saw that he was alone. The other wounded man must have made it over the crest. I need to catch him and then the others. I can’t be left behind. He knew that they would not help him, that was not the Black Hand way, but there was saf
ety in numbers. The ghost was still out there. They were back in his territory. And the other Black Hands had things that Bley needed.
He finally caught up to them many hours later, found them, actually, hunkered down in the lowest spot in a deep cut in the floor of a valley. He might have missed them but for the glow of the sensors. Only four left now. Out of the more than fifty that had left the bloody pass. Of the mighty Black Hands. Pity was not a feeling that Bley knew but he came closer to it then than ever in his life. To see them reduced to this. Cowering in a hole. The sky was coming down, sure. But it was not going to kill him. He was a survivor. He stepped over the sensors into their circle. They pulled back as far as the lights would allow when they saw the lower half of his suit.
‘What?’ demanded Bley. ‘He died. No sense in leaving everything for the ghost.’
CHAPTER 78: LAST WORDS
By a miracle, the dip scalloped out of the ridge top by the light cannon was still there. Somehow it had survived Trahern’s destructive pass. Mike could see the grey of marine suits. The miracle held for a few more minutes. Long enough for him to scramble up and dive in beside them. The sounds of battle gave way to the roar of sky and stone but he was unaware. He had not fired a shot all the way across the low. His aim had been to get back here. To these two.
The wind was screaming now. Sand abraded his face as he dipped it down next to Penter’s.
The miracle used its last few seconds. Penter opened his eyes and smiled.
‘Hi, Mike.’
The Return of the Grey Page 43