Scout's Law

by Henry Vogel

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jade added, “Don’t worry. If he gets stubborn, I’ll call you.”

  “That’s nothing less than I’d expect from our medic.” I smiled briefly at the girl before hardening my gaze. “But what I said to Chris applies equally to you, Jade.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t let your desire to help Chris keep you from asking for help supporting Chris. You’re going to have to switch out with some of the men eventually. Do that as soon as you feel tired. Chris doesn’t want you wearing yourself out any more than you want him doing it.”

  Jade nodded. “Okay.”

  Chris grinned. “And if she gets stubborn, I’ll call you.”

  I rejoined Captain Wright at the front of the column. I told him about my instructions to Chris and Jade, then asked, “How are the men set for weapons?”

  Wright grimaced. “Rather poorly, sir. The young lady’s blaster rifle is out of…whatever the thing shoots. There were no swords on board that airship, of course. We’ve mostly got makeshift clubs.”

  “Did the trogs plunder the wreck of the Vanguard after they captured you?”

  “Not that I saw. After all, why take swords and crossbows when you’ve already got blaster rifles?”

  “Okay, we’ll go back to the wreck and arm ourselves as best we can,” I said, “Our enemies have better weapons, but they can only fire so many times before running out of power.”

  “I don’t suppose you can be more specific than that, sir?” Wright asked.

  “A Federation-manufactured blaster has approximately fifty shots per power pack.” Wright winced at the answer and I added, “But these blasters are hand-made from spare parts. The work is very clever, I’ll grant you, but I doubt their batteries are up to galactic standards. The rifles are probably less efficient with their energy usage, too.”

  “I wish your reassurances used fewer words like ‘doubt’ and ‘probably,’ sir.”

  “Me, too, Captain.” I was quiet for a few seconds as I considered the trail ahead of us. “Do you have a couple of particularly stealthy men in the crew? I’d like to send some scouts ahead of us.”

  Wright selected Jon, a reformed thief, and Horst, a hunter, sending them on their way after I told them where to find the cave that led into the base. All the while, we kept the men moving as quickly as possible. In passing, I noted Jade summoning an airman to take her place supporting Chris. Free to roam, Jade took the chance to check up on other wounded men. She instructed two to come to her at the next rest stop for a change of bandages, receiving a respectful “Yes, ma’am” in reply both times.

  During that next rest stop, one of our scouts returned bearing a wide grin and another blaster rifle. The two scouts found Frank and Van napping by the trail, tied and gagged the pair of idiots with their own clothing, and split up. Jon returned with one of the rifles while the hunter covered the cave exit.

  “The trail is clear right now, sir. With that rifle, Horst can probably hold that cave exit long enough for us to get past it,” the former thief reported. “I’d like permission to run ahead with one of the rifles and help him hold the trail.”

  At my nod, Jon turned and ran down back the way he’d come. Once Jade finished changing bandages, we got everyone up and moving double-time after Jon.

  For once, fortune smiled on us. We passed the cave without incident, picking up Jon and Horst along the way. The scouts had exchanged a little fire with trogs and men exiting the cave. I don’t know what ran through Thor’s mind, but he didn’t waste lives trying to break past our men. No doubt there was another exit somewhere within a mile of the cave. I expected we still had a fight coming, I just hoped it would happen on terrain of our choosing.

  Half an hour later, we reached the wreck of the Vanguard and the men immediately hunted up swords for everyone. By a stroke of luck, a dozen crossbows escaped the fires. Our good mood lasted all of ten minutes.

  “Men and trogs are coming!” one of our lookouts called.

  Finding myself strangely relieved that the waiting was over, I called, “How many of them did Thor send against us?”

  “At a guess, sir, I’d say all of them.”

  I bounded to the top of a piece of wrecked hull and looked at the mountain. At least five hundred men and trogs advanced on us.

  I looked from the wide line of approaching men and trogs to my own men gathered around the wreck of the Vanguard. A dozen crossbows and perhaps a hundred swords against four hundred swords and another hundred blaster rifles? It was quite literally bows and arrows against the lightning—only those wielding the lightning also had numbers on their side.

  Speaking quietly, so only I could hear him, Captain Wright said, “We’re outmanned and outgunned. These are brave men, sir, who will fight for you to the last man. But unless something unexpected happens, I do not see a happy outcome for us.”

  “I won’t ask that of them, Captain, but I also won’t just give up without some attempt at a fight.”

  “I expected no less, sir.” Wright inclined his head toward the men. “Perhaps you’d care to say a few words to the men before all hell breaks loose?”

  Nodding, I let my gaze wander over the gathered men while gathering my thoughts.

  “Give me your attention, men!” Silence fell as I called out. “By now you’ve heard the opposing force outnumbers us five to one. If the enemy was armed as we are, I’d take those odds all day, any day. But the enemy is not armed as we are. They have as many blaster rifles as we have men. I don’t know how we can defend against those. If—”

  “Captain Rice, sir?” a young voice called from the crowd.

  “Do not interrupt your commanding officer, Ensign Marlow!” Wright snapped.

  “No, Captain, it’s okay,” I said. “I was about to ask for suggestions. Chris, do you have an idea?”

  “I think so, sir. Jade told me about the dust cloud you created with her family’s airship.” The girl stood to Chris’s left, her arm hooked through his. “If what her father told her is right, the dust sort of absorbed the blaster shots.”

  “That’s right, Ensign, and if we had a working engine I’d be all for trying it again.” I pointed to the scattered remains of the Vanguard’s engines. “Unfortunately, we don’t.”

  “I realize that, sir, but we do have buckets, a lot of men, and plenty of dust and sand. Couldn’t two or three bucket brigades throw up enough dust to do the job?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. The advancing horde was still half a mile away and appeared content with their steady march forward. Looking back at Chris, I said, “It’s an interesting idea, Chris, but there’s no way we could throw up enough dust to protect an entire line of battle.”

  “But we don’t need to protect the entire line, sir,” Chris said. “We just need to protect a dozen crossbowmen. If our best marksmen can shoot unhindered, maybe they can thin out the men with blaster rifles and make those men waste shots firing back.”

  I stared at Chris for a moment, noting the big grin worn by Jade. Turning to Captain Wright, I said, “Select your dozen best marksmen. Have the rest of your men form into four bucket brigades and start filling buckets with dust.”

  Wright immediately pointed out a dozen men, most of whom already had crossbows. Those men fell into technical discussions about range and wind and volley firing. I left them to it and made my way over to Chris and Jade.

  I handed our lone blaster rifle to the girl. “You’re familiar enough with these that I want you handling it. Don’t try shooting through the dust, obviously.”

  “Of course not.” Jade rolled her eyes but surprised me by adding, “Sir.”

  “That was a good idea, Chris,” I said to the Ensign. “Let’s pray it works.”

  “It was your idea, sir, not mine. Not originally.” Chris smiled at the girl next to him. “Besides, Jade is the one who deserves the real credit.”

  “Don’t listen to him, David, um sir,” Jade said. “I just said it was too bad we didn’t h
ave a way to do that here. Chris did the rest.”

  “So noted, Jade,” I replied. “Chris, you’re not in any condition to take part in the bucket brigade, so I want you to stay with Jade. If the situation gets too dangerous, get her out of here. Is that clear?”

  Chris nodded.

  “And if Chris says it’s time to go, you go with him, Jade.” I gave her a mock glare. “No sneaking off to look for lost sort-of boyfriends and no arguing. Right?”

  “Right,” Jade answered.

  “And if either of you comes up with any other ideas for defending ourselves, inform me immediately.”

  As I turned away, Chris asked Jade, “Wait, that Forbose guy was your boyfriend?”

  “Sort of. Maybe,” Jade responded. “But not anymore after what he did to you!”

  The rest of the teenagers’ conversation faded into the background as Captain Wright and I inspected the bucket brigades and the firing positions chosen by the crossbowmen. Satisfied with the preparations, we watched the approaching line and waited.

  “You know, if they had anyone with even rudimentary military instincts, they’d surround us before attacking,” Captain Wright noted.

  “Let us thank God for small favors, Captain.”

  He nodded and it was as if that was the signal our enemies had been waiting for. They broke into a trot and a few of the ones armed with blaster rifles took shots. None of those shots came close and the rest of Thor’s men held their fire as the line closed in on us.

  Then a roar rose from five hundred throats and Thor’s men charged.

  As more and more of Thor’s men and trogs joined the charge, the sound of feet pounding on the desert quickly grew from a series of staccato thumps into a constant roll of thunder. Voices rose in defiance, calling for revenge and destruction. Random blaster shots flashed through the air. Some of them blasted chunks from the remains of the Vanguard, others missed entirely, blazing into the dawn.

  “When you’re ready, Captain Wright,” I said, gauging the distance between the charging horde and our crossbowmen.

  “Bucket brigades,” the Captain barked, “begin!”

  Three men threw buckets full of sand and dust into the air before the hidden crossbowmen. On the backswing, they tossed the buckets to the ground and then caught the next bucket from the man behind them. All along the line, men, pushed buckets forward then reached back to take another bucket. Much of the sand and dirt settled quickly to the ground, but the air before us also filled with whirling particles of dust.

  “Crossbowman, take position!” At Captain Wright’s command, the dozen men bearing crossbows scrambled to the top of the Vanguard’s hull. Six took a knee while the other six stood right behind them. “Pick your targets and fire when ready!”

  The first crossbow snapped, then another and another after that. Two hundred yards away, a man stumbled and fell. A second and third man fell as well. Within seconds, the crossbows clicked and thrummed almost without pause as each man fired, reloaded, aimed, and fired again. With such a massive target before them, every shot hit someone—perhaps it was just an arm or leg hit, though many times the bolts buried themselves into chests or heads.

  Watching as closely as the gray light allowed, I marveled how many of those hit carried blaster rifles. I saw men trampled as they went down ahead of their charging fellows and took grim satisfaction when I saw blaster rifles mangled and broken underfoot.

  Meanwhile, a few of the riflemen took time to stop and aim more carefully. Most of those shots were also off-target. The few that were on-target dissipated and lost power in the swirling cloud of dust. A very few shots still managed to get through and hit two men. One took a nasty burn to the shoulder and the other a scorch on the forearm. Both men waved away the medic, insisting they were fine, and continued firing.

  After what seemed like hours of charging, the men and trogs drew too close to maintain our position atop the hull. Everyone retreated to the ground and then moved into our positions within the hull itself. The holes in the sides served as perfect choke points, so we concentrated our men defending those positions. Seconds after everyone was in place, the mass of men and trogs swarmed around the remains of the Vanguard and the real battle began in earnest.

  Captain Wright and I ran back and forth through the wrecked airship’s passageways, directing reinforcements to areas most hard-pressed, helping pull wounded men away from the front line, and throwing ourselves into weakening lines and plugging breaches until help could arrive. Yells and cries and the clash of weapons drowned all but the loudest shout, forcing us to rely on hand signals to convey orders. In the close quarters, the stench of sweat and blood and fear permeated everything.

  Jade surprised me by popping up all around the ship, taking a couple of shots with the blaster rifle to drive the attackers back for a few seconds, then dashing off to some other part of the ship to do the same. Then someone grabbed a second blaster rifle from a downed attacker and passed it into Chris’s hands. He followed Jade’s lead, with both teenagers concentrating on opposing riflemen. Within a few minutes, we had gathered a dozen more blaster rifles and put them in the hands of those too wounded for hand-to-hand fighting but fully capable of pulling a trigger.

  Our men poured shot after shot past our front lines and into the packed men and trogs pushing and shoving to break through. Those at the front recoiled, only to be pushed back into the fight by those behind them. Then some of the shots scored hits deeper into the mass of bodies and those at the back realized their danger. The men and trogs on the outside of the horde backed away and then turned and ran. As each layer of attackers realized that retreat lay open to them, they broke off pushing and took to their heels.

  According to my implant, thirty-six long minutes passed between our retreat inside the Vanguard and our attackers’ retreat.

  A ragged cheer rose from our men when the last of the enemy vanished from our sight.

  “Well done, Mr. Rice,” Thor’s amplified voice called from well away from the Vanguard. “Once again, you found a clever use for the dirt and dust of this backward planet and somehow managed to find a way to rout my much larger and much better-equipped army. But I am tired of dealing with you and your little band. You have one minute in which to throw down your arms and surrender to my army.”

  “And if I refuse?” I yelled, confident Thor could hear me.

  “Then I’ll set fire to that hulk you’re hiding in and burn you all alive.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Callan

  The Tercel, Mordan’s mighty tammar of the skies, huddled like a frightened rabbit in the lee of the rocky projection. The windstorm raged about us, sweeping rocks and sand and dust ahead of it. The storm’s detritus fell upon us, scouring the exposed deck and hull of the Tercel, and what wind found its way around the alcove rocked the mighty airship as easily as a mother rocks her newborn babe.

  I sat below deck, with most of the crew packed around me. Hand-picked crewman remained on deck, tied to their stations with safety lines and ready to cut the envelope free if the wind changed direction and brought its full strength to bear on us again. If I understood the concept of the storm machine properly, the wind could only change directions if the machine moved. Captain Jorson was unwilling to gamble my life and the lives of his crew on my meager understanding of galactic technology and I couldn’t fault the man for that.

  The youngest members of the crew—from ship’s boys of nine or ten years to the junior ensigns, who were all of twelve or thirteen—were gathered around me. Captain Jorson placed the lot of us in the most protected position below deck. Sweat ran freely down our faces as heat gathered in the enclosed space. Wide, young eyes darted all around the inside of the airship, drawn to every creak and crack of the hull. The ensigns strove to emulate the outward calm of their superior officers, but they were simply too young to pull it off.

  “I suppose all of you fine young men have heard all about David’s—Captain Rice’s—arrival on Aashla?” I ask
ed.

  The ship’s boys nodded shyly while a chorus of “Yes, Your Highness” rose from the ensigns. One added, “When I was little, I heard Megan the Bard—um, Mrs. Bane—sing The Scout and the Princess once.”

  The other boys cast envious looks at the Ensign, prompting me to say, “Megan will be back on Aashla in a few months. I’ll see if I can arrange a concert for the Tercel’s crew. But have you ever heard the story from someone who was actually there?”

  Nine boys shook their heads in unison, eyes widening in interest rather than fear.

  “Rob, the captain of my guard, and I stood by ourselves against at least two dozen trogs. I was certain the end was upon us. That’s when he arrived…”

  Small mouths hung open in wonder as I wove the tale I knew so well. It was my son’s favorite bedtime story, after all. Beyond the ensigns and ship’s boys, the older crew slowly fell silent, drawn into the story as well. I raised my voice as more and more men cupped hands around ears in an effort to hear me over the wind. I lost myself in the telling and it was only when Captain Jorson bellowed for all hands on deck that I realized the storm was over.

  As the crew scrambled to their feet, one of the ship’s boys looked up at me and solemnly said, “Don’t you worry none, Your Highness! We ain’t gonna let nothing happen to Captain Rice!”

  With equal solemnity, I nodded to the boy. “I have complete faith in the Tercel and her crew.”

  Those around me passed my words to those farther away, who passed them on until the whole crew knew. As I emerged from the hold onto the blessedly cool deck, Captain Jorson met me with a formal salute. All around us, the crew worked with steady speed to ready the airship for flight.

  “The crew is truly inspired, both by your story and your faith in them.”

  “They are Mordanian airmen, Captain Jorson,” I said as if that explained everything. To members of the Mordanian Navy, it did explain everything.

  “Exactly so, Your Highness!”