by B. V. Larson
“I’m sorry, sir,” Churn responded. “But that’s not possible. Your cousins are in a blood-rage, and they won’t withdraw until the enemy has been torn apart.”
I did recall then, at some boring briefing or another, that giants had trouble breaking out of combat once they were in an up-close melee. They seemed to lose their minds and beat dead horses until there was nothing left other than flat road-kill.
Knowing Armel wouldn’t want me to abandon his idiot giants, I reversed my command.
“Take up firing positions! Target the acid-monsters—put them down one at a time!”
Uncertain, but still game for the fight, my troops obeyed. They formed a ragged line, knelt and released withering fire on the enemy up on the walls.
The Wur were already tossing acid-monsters into the middle of our giants. Some of these splatted down, crushed into a smoking mess by a bad landing. Others struck giants and slathered them in corrosives. Usually, the giants could rely on their personal shields to protect them, but not always. Puddles of mud and acid, when stepped into, proved highly dangerous.
The giants, feet burning, lost what little they had left of their minds. They fought with these new invaders, corpses, and even one another at times with equal ferocity.
Now and then, one of them thought to use his projector and beam the Wur above him, but that was the exception rather than the rule. I realized that Churn wasn’t so much a commander of disciplined troops as a herder of a stampede. For the most part, the giants did as they wished once they were engaged.
They began to fall after thirty seconds of fighting. First one, then three more—by the end of the first minute, the count of dead giants stood at six.
I felt sick. I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t want to do it—I contacted Armel.
He didn’t answer my channel request, and I cursed him and the devils who’d spawned him.
Then… I heard the loud peal of a horn. My troops blinked and craned their necks. Our plinking fire slowed…
“They’re coming from Gold Bunker!” someone shouted.
It was true. A column of giants, led by a man riding a pig, were advancing rapidly.
It was Armel’s reserves. The other thirty giants—and he was riding the drone at the head of the formation.
Tribune Maurice Armel was nothing if not a showman. I’ll never know what had possessed him to ride a buzzing, Clydesdale-sized drone into combat—but I was glad he’d decided to join the party.
“Good to see you on the front, sir!” I called out on tactical chat.
“I’m less pleased with your performance, McGill,” he said sternly. “You’ve failed to hold the gates, and worse, you’ve lost a third of the precious giants I released into your care!”
He sounded pissed, and although I didn’t think he had any right to be, I decided to let it go. At least he was here and willing to fight. Say what you will for the pompous bastard—he was no coward.
“Glad to have you, sir, all the same.” That’s all I said, then I went back to firing into the mess at the bottom of the walls.
Soon, Armel and his men rushed right through our lines. Kivi was trampled to death, and I thought that was rather rude. Maybe Armel figured he was getting even for losing his precious giants—but it wasn’t professional.
Still, I didn’t complain. Armel himself rode right into that mess with his giants swarming all around him.
The enemy had started making headway with more pod-walkers coming down off the walls and throwing more acid-monsters—but the thirty additional giants proved decisive.
Armel seemed to have much better control of his minions than Churn had exhibited. He didn’t simply let them go wild, howling and forgetting to use their beam projectors. Instead, his troops had a reasonable level of discipline, and they used it mercilessly.
They beamed the Wur to death and rescued their injured comrades. When it was all over, I joined Armel on the bubbling field of battle.
“Well-fought, Tribune,” I said, and I meant it.
He turned toward me. His kit was muddy, and his drone was staggering on three legs. For a moment, he stared at me—but then he relaxed. He must have seen that my praise was honest and real.
“Yes,” he said. “It was well-fought. The enemy pressed here at the gates with the greatest ferocity. I have to admit, when I saw your men fall back from the battlements, I thought they would keep running—but they did not. You turned back, you stood, and you supported my engaged giants.”
“Damn-straight,” I said. “Those giants can’t be revived on this planet. Can we even get more of them sent out from Blood World?”
He opened his visor and gave his head a shake. He seemed to instantly regret this, as fetid air assailed him. Even the storm wasn’t able to keep the stink down completely.
“No,” he said. “They’re too large for a simple set of gateway posts. We can get littermates, maybe a few Cephalopods and slavers, should we want them—but not more giants.”
I nodded, understanding how Armel felt. He didn’t want to lose an elite force he couldn’t replace.
“But you came out and risked the rest of your force anyway?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said. “The lack of choice in this matter was so obvious I’m surprised even you did not see it.”
There he was, falling back on insults again. Armel could fight, he was a good commander—but he was a hard man to like.
“I had to release the rest of my reserves,” he continued. “If you’d been wiped out here, I wouldn’t have bothered. I would have stayed in my bunker and hoped for the best. But, since you were in an even struggle, I released the reserves to break the back of their offensive.”
“Well… I’m glad you did.”
So saying, I offered him a dirty gauntlet. He looked at it as if it were a serpent, ready to strike. I kept the hand out there, ready to shake.
“Look, sir,” I said in a lowered voice. “We’ve got to pull together out here as best we can. We’ve got little bear dudes in unbreakable armor, and about a zillion trees trying to kill us. They all hate us—both of us.”
I still held out my hand, and Armel still hesitated. Finally, however, he noticed several other officers were watching. Among them was Primus Fike, Sub-Centurion Churn and Centurion Leza, who’d apparently been reassigned to this legion along with Armel.
Always political, Armel slid from the saddle of his crippled drone and slammed his gauntlet into mine. His grip was solid, if less than impressive.
I grinned, and I shook that hand as if I’d met a long-lost cousin. Armel gave me a pained smile in return.
“This is for show, McGill,” he said in a low voice. “The troops need to keep up their morale.”
“Don’t I know it, sir.”
He nodded then, and we let go of each other’s hands.
The situation was clear. We didn’t like one another—not at all. But we had to depend on one another in order to survive this campaign.
-54-
In the aftermath of battle, Graves was revived. He demanded a briefing, and he reviewed every aspect of the conflict.
Some hours later, he got around to talking to me.
“McGill? What happened to those skinny blue natives you had following you around earlier? Were they all wiped out?”
“Um… that’s a funny thing, Primus. They disappeared on me, just before the big attack landed.”
“Hmm… I don’t like the sound of that. According to our deepest drone reports, the troops from Rigel have landed in force in the mountains to the east of the fort.”
That was the first I’d heard of any enemy landings. I turned to the east and examined the peaks that stood there. They were hazy in the drizzle, but I could see a row of dark mountains squatting beyond the trees.
“That sounds bad, sir,” I said. “They might find good artillery placements up there—provided they have artillery.”
“Agreed. McGill, you’ve dealt with Rigel infantry face-to-face, and you
’ve talked to a representative of Rigel in person. Why do you think they chose to invade our camp so blatantly? They could have landed more safely from the start and begun a campaign of eradication with a much more traditional approach.”
“Honestly, sir, I think they’re pretty full of themselves. And to give them credit, they almost took us out with their arrogant attack.”
“That’s true… They don’t think much of our fighting capabilities. Well, what we need now is human intel—eyes on the ground. You up for some in-country action?”
“Uh…”
“Really?” he complained at my lack of enthusiasm. “I would have thought you’d be bored by now patrolling inside these walls.”
“It’s been anything but dull, sir. But if you want intel, I suppose I could gather my unit and go for a walk.”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind. By all reports, we’re in for a lull. The Wur have taken a beating, and the boys from Rigel are setting up a new camp. I want you to use these hours wisely by finding your native friends and seeing if they can help you penetrate the Rigellian camp.”
“Oh… sounds great, sir. I’m not sure where the locals went, however—”
“Seriously, McGill? Do you think I was born yesterday? They’ve got a network of subway tunnels or whatever you want to call them directly under our feet. They obviously went slinking down there when things looked dangerous. Reestablish contact and report back. Graves out.”
Sighing, I saw the green com light die in my helmet. I really had been looking forward to a shower and a few hours of relative peace—but that never had been the fate of any star-faring legionnaire.
After making sure my unit was recovering and placing Leeson in command in my absence, I contacted the one man who might know more than I did about our lanky blue friends.
“Cooper?” I asked. “You awake?”
He yawned in my ear.
“Just what I thought. If I catch you sleeping somewhere in that stealth suit, I’m pulling your name as a ghost candidate.”
“That’s harsh, Centurion, so harsh. I’m ready for action.”
“Meet me at the gates.”
After filling a ruck with basic supplies, I found two footprints that didn’t fill with mud near the gatehouse. I elbowed Cooper, and he grunted.
“Oh no, sorry man!” I exclaimed, slapping him on the back until he coughed.
“It was the footprints, wasn’t it?” he complained. “That’s the worst thing about this form of stealth. It doesn’t do much for you when there’s an absence of volume. In fact, when the rain is really coming down in sheets, you can see me better by the empty, rain-free space than you could if I was just standing there without this damned poncho.”
“You want to give it up, then?” I asked, calling his bluff.
“Hell no.”
“That’s what I thought. Lead the way.”
“Um… to where, sir?”
“You going to pretend you haven’t been shadowing me? That you have no idea what Graves wants us to do? Really?”
He pulled his suit over his head and blinked in the rain. He didn’t have a helmet on, and rain ran down over his squinting eyes.
“You’ve been tracking me?” he asked.
I nodded. “Now and then, when the mood strikes.”
“Sir, Graves said you were supposed to go out into the brush and find those blue deserters. I don’t see why—”
Nonchalantly, I put a big hand on his shoulder. He shut up immediately, but he didn’t flinch away.
“Listen,” I said. “You’re coming with. Be happy—what good is a scout if he’s not off doing some kind of recon?”
Cooper grumbled, but he soon led the way into the muck outside the walls. The land was a mess consisting of endless mud, Wur sap, bubbling craters of acid and countless other nasty things.
Following him as he led the way to the edge of the forest, I felt a twinge of concern. I’d figured he was shadowing me, goofing off, and probably following attractive females around in that ghost-suit of his—but I hadn’t really figured he would have overheard my conversation with Graves. I made a mental note to investigate that detail later on—maybe one of our techs was feeding him info.
He took me to a secret spot where space warped. There, a “fall-in” zone could be used to gain entrance to the underground labyrinth of the Scupper. We both hesitated before jumping into it.
“You sure this is the spot?” I asked.
“Stalling, huh?” Cooper asked. “I don’t blame you. In fact, I’m more than willing to call the whole thing off and tell Graves we tried and failed. I’ll back you up one hundred percent, sir.”
“We’re not giving up before we even try. That’s not going to happen.”
Cooper sighed. “We’re going to get permed down there, you know. We almost did the last time.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “You first, scout.”
He continued to linger. “Can I ask you one thing first, Centurion?”
“Nope. Get into that frigging hole!”
My boot swept toward his tail-section, but he’d already dodged forward and slipped away into nothingness. It was the damnedest thing to watch. One second, he was falling into a patch of muck, and the next he was gone.
Following him, I slid down into the ground, and what passed for the gray daylight of Storm World was lost above.
I landed inside a tube as before. Lit with a glimmer, I applied my suit lights and soon realized I was alone. I saw two smaller muddy footprints on the deck—but no Cooper. Judging by the look of the prints, I figured he wasn’t still standing there—he would have been right under my balls if he had been.
So… where had he gone? There was only one obvious answer. He’d jumped up and flown away, using the unique properties of these transportation tubes immediately upon entering.
But why?
“Cooper?” I called out quietly. “You still around?”
There was nothing. The deathly silence of the grave met my ears, and pounded on them. Compared to the endless splattering sound of the rains above, the sudden silence roared in my head.
“Cooper?” I called again, a little louder this time.
There was no mistaking it. I was alone.
Cursing, I gave a little hop and began flying away downstream—in the direction the builders of this place had intended.
According to my tapper, I was going east. That was positive, at least. I was supposed to scout in an eastern direction at some point. Why not start now?
The tunnel was a fairly short one. A kilometer or two farther down, I began to drift then landed. I’d learned over time to do it gracefully, and I marched down the tube toward the endpoint where one of those doors stood open.
Seeing muddy footprints that weren’t my own, I felt a deep frown overtake my features.
“Cooper?” I demanded loudly.
“Shhh!” he hissed back.
Slowing, I looked carefully at the end of the tube. The door was there, hanging open. In general, doors down here always closed themselves. That meant someone I couldn’t see had to be holding it open.
I walked up quietly behind the stealthed Cooper and crouched behind him. Fortunately, there was enough muddy debris on the ground to let me track him. Vaguely, I wondered how they kept the tubes so clean when their planet was nothing but one giant pit of filth.
Peering into the void beyond Cooper, I saw it was a shaft, one that went both up and down. I wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, but he was my scout, and I’d found him, so I figured I’d let him explain himself in good time.
“Dammit,” he said, in a whisper. “I can’t hear him anymore.”
“Hear who?”
“One of those blue cowards was waiting for us down here. When I came down, I almost landed on him. I think he was posted here to see if we followed that ‘Second-Man’ dude. Well, when I showed up, he bounced into the air and flashed away. I followed, but I couldn’t quite catch up. He went through that do
or into the shaft beyond.”
“Yeah… so? Just run out there and see which way the wind blows.”
“Not so simple. Remember those shafts that go both up and down? This is one of those. I’m not sure where he went.”
Leaning forward, I pushed Cooper aside and poked my head into the shaft. Cooper was right—there was no telling which way the salamander had gone.
“We could split up,” I said.
“And double our chances of a perming?” he complained. “No thanks.”
I was frowning again. Somehow, that happened almost constantly when dealing with Cooper. He’d never quite grasped the twin concepts of authority and duty. He was a dishonorable cur at heart, always forgetting who he was talking to.
In a way, he was like me when I’d been younger—but much more snotty.
“All right, you pussy,” I said, and I pushed past him into the shaft. “I’ll take my shot.”
“Up, or down?” he whispered.
I considered. “Above us should be the mountains where those troops from Rigel are setting up camp. If I were on the run, why would I go there?”
“Maybe. If you were really allied with them, not the Earthers.”
“Huh…” I said, having not considered the idea.
Shrugging, I jumped out into open space, and I shoved off, sending myself into a fall. I’d made my choice, right or wrong. If we just sat around, there was no way we’d ever catch up. This way, at least it was fifty-fifty I’d guessed right.
I fell like a stone. The air came up and whistled into my face, and I couldn’t help but feel the growing creep of panic.
Was I falling faster, due to the additional tug of real gravity? It felt that way. Would this shaft’s safe-landing sensors be switched off by the blue bastard we were chasing, since he was a native and no doubt had more control over this system than we did? There was no way to know until I slammed down dead at the bottom.
There was nothing for it now other than to enjoy the fall. I tried to do so, but my body wouldn’t let me. I knew better than to relax and create a bloody splat on some distant landing pad below. I wanted to reach out and touch the sides of the shaft as they flashed by.