by Chris Bunch
A tech reported:
“Sir, we have an incoming, low-level flight, from the east, approximate speed two fifty kph, did not answer challenge on standard guard frequency. Three gun stations are tracking it.”
“Knock it down!”
“Yessir,” a weapons officer said. “Three Weapons Position, fire!”
The bridge jarred as the nearby chaingun blasted.
• • •
Cannon fire slashed into the water less than twenty meters short of Loy Kouro’s speedster. He gaped, jerked at the controls, smashed into the waterspout.
The speedster skidded, went sideways.
Kouro fought for control, had it for an instant. Then the speedster snaprolled twice. Kouro slid the control back, and for an instant the speedster stabilized. He tried to climb for altitude, then the drive died, and the speedster stalled.
It nosed into a dive, Kouro fighting it. He brought the speedster level, then ran out of altitude. At just under 100kph, it hit the water, skipping like a spun stone.
• • •
The hangar door slid open, as the Corfe fired across the parade ground, at some distant target in the ocean.
“Gunner!” Garvin shouted. “That weapons station.”
“Acquired,” Ho said calmly, and touched the firing studs of her autocannon.
The 20mm cannon roared like a primeval beast, and collapsed-uranium rounds smashed into the exposed Kuran guns.
Two ammo drums exploded, and a ball of flame swept the compartment, killing the gunners before they had a chance to realize they were dead.
A panel slid shut, sealing the station, as the Corfe rocked from side to side.
“Evasive action!” Jaansma called, and the two Cookes skidded out of the hangar, zigged out of sight as another cannon blasted holes in the tarmac.
“No shiteedah,” Running Bear managed, hands blurring across controls as the Cooke banked, almost smashing into a shed.
• • •
Rao found three sprawled bodies in the corridor, and pushed Redruth harder. They ran into the airlock’s suiting chamber, found the Council, and Poynton with a pistol in each hand. A Councilman held the third weapon.
“How’re we going to get out of the ship without getting gunned down?” Poynton said.
“Give me one of those,” Rao said, and Poynton tossed him a pistol.
“Your honor guard took care of the sentries,” Poynton said. “They scattered, got to shelter before the ship could retaliate, and we’ve got some support fire from them.”
“They keep trying to close the lock,” another man said. “I’m holding down EMERGENCY OVERRIDE.”
“Next?” Poynton said.
“You can’t run,” Redruth said smugly. “My gunners’ll drop you before you make ten meters.”
“Then we’d better kill you now,” Poynton said.
Redruth paled as Rao leveled the pistol.
• • •
“I have you, I have you, oh Lordy lord now I have you,” Ben Dill crooned as the aksai swooped on a Kuran patrol boat. He thumbed the firing button three times, and missiles hissed away.
The patrol boat went to full power, tried to jump into stardrive, didn’t make it as one missile blew its nose off, then the second homed on the engine room, and the ship became a geometrically perfect ball of flaming gas.
“Ho-ho,” Dill shouted into his mike. “First blood for Ben!”
• • •
“Corfe, Corfe, this is Corfe-Two,” the panicked patrol boat’s commander broadcast. “Corfe-Three destroyed by Musth … there’s too many of ‘em, all attacking! Corfe-Four under attack as well!”
A missile launched by one of Dill’s wingmen blew up half a kilometer away, and the man flinched, reflexively slamming his ship into stardrive.
• • •
Rao heard movement, stuck his pistol around, and slammed half a dozen rounds down the corridor without looking to see who it was.
“We’re dead if we stay here,” Rao decided. “Out of here, and run for that hangar! Stay spread out!”
Fearful faces peered at him, then obediently clattered down the gangway.
Rao’s eyes were on them, and Redruth seized the moment, knocking the caud sideways, then darting back into the corridor, into a compartment, and sliding the door shut.
“Bastard!” and Rao went after the others.
• • •
A Kuran gunner saw the running men and women, switched his target acquisition to manual, and swiveled the guns down toward them.
Yoshitaro’s Cooke popped up above a transport lifter, and his gunner sent 150 rounds into the position before the man could open fire.
Moments later the Council members ran into the hangar, through it, and out the other side. Caud Rao was last. He crouched, blew the rest of his pistol magazine into the open lock of the Corfe, doing no good but no harm either.
Then he was gone, after the others, as cannon shells ripped through the tarmac where he’d been.
• • •
“Close the lock,” Celidon ordered. “Why was this not done — ”
He broke off, realizing the stupidity of blame-finding until later.
Another com clicked.
“Bridge, this is Gunnery Compartment Thirteen. We have the Protector safely …” There was a clatter of static, then Redruth’s voice: “Celidon! Lift the ship out of here! They’ve trapped us!”
Celidon forced calm.
“Captain, prepare for lift. Take it straight out over the ocean, then into stardrive as soon as we clear atmosphere.”
“Yessir.”
“Have all patrol ships pull in to support us.”
“Yessir.”
Celidon noted pressure in his ears, realized the lock was … finally … shut.
“You … Section Leader … three men to Gunnery Thirteen, and escort the Protector to the bridge!”
“Sir!”
Celidon felt the flagship come clear of the ground, heard the subdued whine of the antigravs.
• • •
Ben Dill flashed through the outer atmosphere, his screens showing Camp Mahan far below. He held the zoom sensor in, saw the Corfe as it started to move.
He punched the missile firing button as he plunged down, through thirty-thousand meters at some impossible Mach number, felt the aksai wiggle as all his missiles ripple-fired, and realized he was about to make a crescent-sized hole in D-Cumbre, slid sensors back, cut power, and the Musth fighting ship bucked, shuddered, began trying to pull out of its dive, fighting compressibility, barely on the edge of control.
The missiles, intended for air-to-air or space use, lost the target in ground clutter and smashed into the tarmac, not one hundred meters from the Corfe.
Two seconds later, Dill’s aksai whipped past, not thirty meters above the Corfe.
• • •
On the bridge of the Musth flagship, a huge, new, heavily armed mother ship, Wlencing considered screens. Beside him was a slightly smaller Musth, with much the same markings as Wlencing.
“So they are fighting,” he told Aesc. “Each other, I assume. But where did those aksai come from? We know of no other Musth having interest in this region, this matter, do we?”
“No,” Aesc said. “A puzzlement. The humans must have found some of those ships under repair we did not have time to load.”
“Leader,” a weapons-firer reported. “One of the human ships, a ship-of-patrol, has launched at us. A countermissile has already been released. It has acquired and is about to destroy their weapon. Shall I return fire on the ship-of-patrol?”
Wlencing looked at the Musth beside him.
“Alikhan, I assume you would like to launch in your own fighting craft and deal properly with these enemies, no doubt, wanting to be a young hero?”
His eldest offspring lifted a paw.
“I am not foolish enough to believe I could reach him before a missile, Progenitor.”
“Good,” Wlencing approved. “Neve
r forget a gun’s reach far exceeds a knife’s. Destroy the ship.”
The weapons-firer swept a hand over a bank of sensors.
Ten missiles spat toward Corfe-Four. It evaded two, then the third smashed into its midsection and the ship vanished.
“Good,” Aesc said. “Recall the other missiles and proceed with the landing.”
• • •
“Those are Musth ships,” Celidon said. “Some kind of mother craft. We were too late taking over the planet, and — ”
Redruth burst onto the bridge, panting, eyes half-glazed.
“Get us into space,” he snapped. “This was a trap!”
“Perhaps not a trap,” Celidon said calmly. “But we certainly didn’t credit these Cumbrians with enough brains. And no one could predict the convenient arrival of the Musth. We’re already lifting for space. Calm yourself, Protector.
“We’ll fight them … destroy them … another day.”
• • •
The Corfe cleared Chance Island, never noticing two tiny Cookes at full drive after it. Garvin Jaansma was in the first Cooke, Njangu Yoshitaro in the second, somewhat to the rear.
“Can you hit it?” Garvin demanded. He was half-standing, crouched behind the windscreen.
“Doubt it, sir,” Ho Kang said.
“We’re losing ground,” Running Bear reported. “They’ve got legs on us.”
The com crackled.
“What the hell are you doing? That bastard’s gonna turn around and swat you like a fly,” Yoshitaro snapped. Garvin paid no mind. “Give ‘em a burst.”
“Yessir.”
Ho Kang pushed her firing stud, and tracers sailed out, fell hundreds of meters short of the fleeing Corfe. The Cooke shuddered, slowed in reaction.
“Shit, shit, shit. Can you lob it over ‘em?”
“Not a chance, sir.”
Garvin came back to reality a little as the Corfe went vertical and flashed away, a dot, then a tiny flare from its drive. Seconds later, just out-atmosphere, it entered stardrive and was gone.
Jaansma sat down in his seat as the Cooke slowed.
“Crud.” He brightened. “At least we gave it the good old try.”
Running Bear eyed him oddly, said nothing. Ho looked as disappointed as Jaansma.
“ ‘Kay,” Garvin said, suddenly tired. “Take it back home, and don’t call me a crazed sort too loudly.”
“Nossir.”
The Cooke banked, turned, and Yoshitaro’s ACV caught up, closed alongside.
“Might I ask what the hell you were trying?” Njangu shouted.
“Kind of lost my temper.”
“Yeesh,” Yoshitaro said. “You are, without question, either going to die a Sky Marshal with a double Confederation Cross, or I’m going to strangle you for sheer — ”
“Uh, sir,” Running Bear interrupted. “We’ve got a Mayday beacon. Just ahead of us. In the water, I think.”
Garvin puzzled, then remembered that strange burst of fire from the Corfe.
“Let’s see if there’s anything to pick up.”
Running Bear cut speed further and shed altitude until he was just above the ocean.
“There it is,” he said.
The speedster bobbed, two halves, one nearly submerged, in the small waves.
“Doesn’t look like we need bother stopping.”
“Negative,” Jaansma said. “I see a hand waving. Bring it on down.”
The Cooke hovered in, close to the wreckage. The speedster was a shambles, but spread across the instrument panel were the fully deployed impact bags. A man was sprawled across one, facedown, behind the controls.
Jasith Mellusin was looking at him, eyes bleared in shock.
“Garvin?”
“Yeh. Me.” Garvin jumped down into the sinking speedster, almost fell as waves rocked it.
Loy Kouro, his face bloody, staggered up from the control seat.
“I’m hurt,” he mumbled. “Help me. Get me to a hospital.”
He started forward, and Garvin neatly pushed him back.
“Wait your turn,” he said. “Ladies go first.”
He picked up Jasith, remembering other times, smelled her familiar perfume over burnt insulation and spilled fuel. He felt tears come, pushed them away, handed her up to his gunner.
“All right, you sorry bastard,” he said, turning back. “It’s your turn.”
And then the Musth smashed in-atmosphere.
CHAPTER
5
There were nineteen Council members in the chamber with their assistants; Caud Rao with his exec and intelligence officer; System-Leader Aesc and War Leader Wlencing.
“Firssst,” Aesc said, in Terran, sibilants hissing as almost all Musth did when they spoke Basic, “I must assssure you of one thing. While our raccce is angered by the deathsss of our people, we have decccided to offer another chanccce.”
The Council members mostly looked skeptical.
“We would like to live in peaccce with Man,” Aesc insisted. “Perhapsss one of our problemsss before wasss we chossse to live apart from each other.
“Thisss matter hasss been consssidered, and we ssshall attempt to conjoin with you.”
“What, precisely, does that mean?” Jo Poynton asked.
“Firssst,” Wlencing said, “we ssshall not dwell on mattersss such as the deathsss of our people in the recccent uprisssing, nor even on the recccent deathsss of our caretakersss in the headquartersss on the high flatland, ignoring even the possssibility that our fellows were ssset upon and murdered in a mossst unwarrior-like manner.”
“We ssshall offer positions in our minesss on Sssilitric, in every capacity from sssupervisor to rock-worker,” Aesc said. “Payment ssshall be made in gold, which I assssume can be converted into your creditsss.
“Perhapsss, also, sssome of our mining expertsss might benefit from working with their human counterpartsss, working or at leassst obssserving your methodsss.
“Alssso, while our main headquartersss ssshall be where they were before on the high flatland and on Sssilitric, after we have purified them from the deathsss of our caretakersss, we ssshall open … consssulshipsss, I believe is your word, in mossst of the cccitiesss on this world.”
“To what purpose?” a Councilman asked.
“Asss I sssaid before, dissstance, unfamiliarnessss, can breed hatred,” Aesc said. “With our people in closssenessss to each other, we can grow to know the other, and perhapsss regrettable instancesss of the passst ssshall not recur. Perhapsss, even, in the future, we might be able to offer visssitsss to sssome of our worldsss to further bring our peoplesss together.”
“It appears,” Caud Rao said, “you’ve returned with far more of your people than before, and it also appears from our analyses that your ships are for war, not merchant or mining.”
“Sssuch isss the truth,” Wlencing said. “We are a cautiousss raccce. And perhapsss it is well that they are, for we were able to drive away the one you sssaid was trying to take over thesse worldsss.”
“True,” Rao admitted. “But what, specifically, is your military intent, remembering this system is still part of the Confederation?”
“Only a fool comesss to a place and immediately sssays what ssshould be done here, there, and everywhere,” Wlencing said. “We would like to take a few cyclesss to ssstudy the matter, jussst obssserving, and work with your warriorsss.
“I am cccertain sssome sssort of equitable matter might be achieved. Perhapsss we could ssshare the tasssk of defenssse, with our warriorsss taking responsssibility for aerial and ssspace defenssse, and you deal with mattersss here on the ground.
“Or perhapsss cccertain unitsss might be combined, asss an interesssting experiment.”
“With which race in command?” Caud Rao said.
Wlencing pushed a paw against the air, signifying lack of concern. “That decisssion might be reached at the correct time, not thisss one. I noticcce, by the way, you dissspersssed your forcesss from the manner th
ey were when we were here before. It would be a good gesssture if they would be returned to their peacccetime dutiesss and barracksss.
“One thing we mussst insssissst on. You cleverly were able to put a ssscattering of aksai into combat with the intrudersss. We assssume you plan the return of thossse fighting ssshipsss at your bessst convenience.”
Rao hesitated, then nodded. “We shall.”
“That iss good,” Wlencing said, inclined his head to Aesc. “I am sssorry to have intruded on your ssspeech, but there were mattersss of my expertnessss to be anssswered.”
“I have little elssse to sssay,” Aesc said, “other than we ssshall remain in clossse contact with thisss Councccil, and asss other mattersss presssent themssselves, no doubt other meetingsss will be ssscheduled, with hope that they are asss congenial as thisss one.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and moved lithely away, Wlencing following him. The war leader paused beside Caud Rao.
“Isss it not good that my belief that we would be fighting when next we met hasss not come true?”
“War is never good,” Rao said.
Wlencing moved a paw across his chest, then turned and followed Aesc out of the chamber.
“What did that last gesture mean?” Angara asked.
Rao shrugged, Hedley shook his head.
“Maybe that he thinks you’re a flippin’ pacifist, which the Musth don’t have much use for?”
“I surely don’t like the idea,” Angara said, “that the Musth run around with all the air power, and we pound the ground. That isn’t exactly cutting the pie in half. Nor am I bouncing up and down about the idea that we have to pull everybody back to Mahan and go back to being a big fat target.
“But I can’t think of a damned thing we can do to change that.”
“And I’m not very fond of giving those hot little aksai back,” Hedley said. “But like you said, we seem to have a shortage of flipping options.”
“What’s your appreciation?” Rao asked his intelligence officer.
“Specifically, that the Musth have too many of those big mother … in two senses of the flipping word … ships, that every one of them I see looks and acts like a fighter, not a miner, that I’d guess the Force is outnumbered two or three to one, most likely more.