The Privateer 2: AN HONEST LIVING

by Zellmann, William

  Zant nodded. "Understood. Don't worry, my ridgerunners are very good sneakers. So, we get across the road. Then what?"

  The man shrugged. "The patrol. They vary the schedule and the route to make the patrols more difficult to ambush. We have a runner watching for the patrol to leave the compound, and others to see which route they will take. We should have about an hour to get into position. But your hillrunners will be slow, with the loads they're carrying. We'll try to guess which route they'll use; if we're wrong we might have to come back and try again tomorrow night."

  Zant opened his mouth to protest, but the man bulled on. "They have four routes they use, and they're pretty close together. In some places, we might be able to move to one or the other of two. But as you said, these people are not stupid. We have lost four of our people already, all skilled hunters. They react quickly and viciously. I will not have my people risk themselves unnecessarily."

  Zant's mouth snapped shut. He decided it didn't really matter whether they attacked one night or the next. The man was right. This was the best they could do.

  He nodded. "Got it. Okay, the patrol comes around. If we can avoid being detected, as soon as they pass, we'll sneak across behind them. Your people begin following them, while we work our way past the farms to the militia area."

  "And if we are detected?"

  Zant shook his head grimly. "Then we kill them. Your people make a run for the forest, and we'll try to sneak past before the reinforcements arrive. With any luck, they'll think it's just another sniper ambush, and chase you."

  The man nodded. "But they will be alerted, and you will still have to pass the sentries."

  Zant nodded. "I know. If that happens, there's a good chance this will turn into a suicide mission. But it's really important that we destroy these things; if we don't, they'll slaughter the Four Kings' troops, and the star men will rule Jumbo."

  He left the sniper and returned to the fire, where his trappers and a handful of hunters awaited him. "Okay," he said, "Where were we?"

  A small, weasely hunter with a large gap in his teeth grinned widely. "We was gettin' to kill more star men," he replied. The butt of his rifle displayed four carefully carved notches, each symbolizing a star man he claimed to have killed in the box canyon shootout.

  Zant grinned. "Yeah. Okay." He paused with an annoyed expression, and then firmed his chin. He was about to do something risky, and was desperately hoping it would work. He dug into his pack, and came out with a marker.

  He took a deep breath. "All right," he said. "There's something we have to do first. You know me, I know you. But I know you as that 'ugly guy with the bad teeth' or something." The men dissolved into laughter and mutual accusations. Zant waited until they quieted down. "Now," he continued, "you know that I would never want to allow you to be hexed. But we're about to get into a big fight, and I have to have a way for both of us to know who I'm talking to.

  "So," he continued, "I'm going to put a mark on your forehead, and I'll call you by what is on that mark. That way I don't have to know your name, and you won't have to be afraid of magic."

  "Will it hurt?" a big man asked doubtfully.

  "What about you?" another asked.

  Zant grinned. "No, you big baby, it won't hurt, and you can rub it off as soon as we're done here." He shrugged. "As for me, my name is Zant, and you can feel free to use it."

  Several of the men looked shocked at Zant's mention of his name, and a couple made signs in the air to ward off evil spirits. Zant moved toward the weasely man. The man's eyes widened, and he swallowed noisily, but he stood defiantly as Zant scrawled a two-inch "A" on his forehead.

  "You are Ay," he said, stepping back from the man. He looked around. "All of you remember that he is Ay, and you will have something to call him without risking magical problems." When the small man realized that Zant was finished, he breathed a mighty sigh of relief. He straightened proudly and proclaimed, "I am Ay!"

  Zant moved to the next man, standing by nervously. He scrawled a letter on the man's forehead, and said, "You are Bee." He continued around the circle "You are Cee," "You are Dee." He skipped "I"; he didn't want to create even more confusion. By the time he'd finished, at 'Kay,' the men were strutting around showing off their forehead marks proudly and announcing their new nicknames. Zant didn't stop them; They all needed to be familiar with each others' nicknames. Finally the novelty wore off, and the men gathered around Zant once again.

  "Okay," he said. "Here's the plan again. We all sneak up and set an ambush for the patrol." He turned to the sniper leader. "We'll try to let them pass and sneak across behind them," he said. "But if they detect us, it'll be up to the local boys to take 'em out and head back here." He shrugged. "It would be a lot better if we don't have to kill them, at least at first."

  He turned back to his own men, several of whom were frowning. "What do we need these guys for?" Ay demanded. "We can take care of them ourselves!" Several of the others grumbled their agreement.

  Zant sighed and suppressed an urge to shake his head in disgust. "Like I told you before," he said patiently, "there's two reasons. First, it's their territory. They'll know the best place for an ambush, and the best way to make sure they get them all at once.

  "Second, each of us will be carrying about 25 kilos of explosives, as well as our own crossbows and bolts. One hit from a laser and we're all gone. Let them do their jobs; they're good at them, and we've got our own jobs to do."

  Ay was still frowning. "Yeah, but I still don't like it. We can't even start to do our jobs until they do theirs. If they screw up . . . "

  The leader of the snipers began to cloud up, and Zant hurried to reply. "Don't you worry about them," he said. "While you've been partying at Gathering up north, they've been killing star men down here." The sniper relaxed, and Zant breathed a silent sigh of relief. "You just worry about how fast you can jump up and run carrying thirty kilos of gear.

  "Remember, if the snipers have to attack the patrol, we have to get inside the colony and find places to hide before the star men can send help. That means you might have to take out one of those sentry posts on the way; and those sentry posts will be alerted by the attack on the patrol.

  "And that means we won't have a moment to waste. If one of those guard posts goes offline, alarms will be triggered within seconds. So, we're a lot better off if we can sneak past the patrol and those guard posts, instead of taking them out."

  Ay subsided, but he was still frowning.

  "Now," Zant continued, "Once we get inside the ring of guard posts, we break into our three-man teams and head for our targets. You've all seen the overhead pictures that show the layout of the colony, and where the star men are keeping the things we must destroy.

  "Once we reach our targets, we take out any crews or sentries, as quietly as possible. That's why you have crossbows and knives instead of rifles; they're quieter. Then, each man in turn plants his demo packs while the others cover him. Be sure you try to hide them. If the alarm is raised, they may not find them before they go off. Then we start working our way out. Split up and make your own way back, either to the forest or the river. You'll have twenty minutes before the demo packs go off, but in case of trouble, you all have triggers that will set them off immediately. Don't stay bunched up, and don't try to stay around to watch the pretty fireworks!

  "Remember, sneak up on them like they were wild dinos; we have to get to our targets without the star men seeing us. If they do see us, they will gather over a hundred skilled fighters with the light-that-kills, and they will man the weapons we're after. They will find the demo packs and remove them, and we will die in vain." He shrugged. "I would prefer that they be the ones that do the dying." He was rewarded by wolfish grins from all ten men.

  "The snipers will be tailing the patrol. As soon as they hear the explosions and stuff from the camp, they'll take out the patrol, and try to cover our escape. Since we won't be loaded anymore, we'll make a run for the forest, straight through th
e farms, or to the river, if you can swim. It'll all be over by dawn."

  The raid had been planned using high-res photos of the colony. New Home, the colony, was laid out in a rough rectangle, with one edge bordering the east bank of the Great River. It was the only development on that side of the river, due to the nomad threat.

  The nomads had avoided the area due to the deadliness of the "Cursed Lands." With that threat now removed, that situation was certain to change, and the nomads were sure to begin all-out attacks soon. Ochoa-Mariden hoped to control the entire settled strip by then, and to be able to overwhelm any savages. Cale's destruction of his flitter fleet had put a worrisome dent in those plans. Once he defeated the meddlers, he had vague plans to replace the flitters by off-world trade.

  The colonists built a bridge about half a mile north of the Giant Forest, and a wide, paved road meeting the main road between King's Town and Ham's Town. The road was wide enough for the colony's hovertrucks, and negotiations began to widen the rest of the road to King's Town. King Karel had been reluctant, but now that the General was in control, work was ongoing and the road nearly completed.

  The landing pad occupied the northwest corner of the colony layout, near, but not bordering the river, since the colonists planned to develop the riverbank as they grew. Warehouses occupied the western border of the landing pad, some containing colony supplies, and some empty, awaiting harvests. To the south, between the landing pad and the bridge was the storage area for the community equipment: simple plas buildings housing the colony's heavy construction and farming machinery.

  A large rectangular area east of the bridge was designated for future development as the "colony square" and central business district, though only the Great Hall and a few small commercial shops presently occupied it.

  The rest of the large rectangle making up the colony was broken into a checkerboard of farms of various sizes. When they arrived, the colony allocated farm sites by lot, the size determined by the size of a member's investment in the colony.

  Ochoa-Mariden and his men had traded farm sites until they had a large, roughly rectangular area nearly ¼ the size of the entire colony to the east of the landing pad. Unsurprisingly, the soldiers had all deeded their farms to the colony militia. No farming was carried on in the "Militia Farms" area of the colony, of course. A sizeable portion of the storage aboard Ochoa-Mariden's Din-class had been devoted to military rations, intended to support the 300 soldiers until the colony could get a crop harvested. Local trade supplemented the rations, of course.

  Ochoa-Mariden claimed that Militia Farms was a social experiment, occupied communally to help the veterans transition from a martial to a pastoral life. Actually, of course, it was simply a military base, complete with barracks, NCO and Officer's quarters, and drill fields. Ochoa-Mariden was trying to prolong the illusion as long as possible, and had not felt confident enough to erect walls or fences between Militia Farms and the rest of the colony, though the property line was patrolled.

  This meant that the entire northern half of the colony site was devoted to non-farming purposes. Ochoa-Mariden claimed that this was for the colony's protection, so that the militia and the landing pad faced any threat from the nomads, rather than undefended farmsteads.

  What he had done was to place the large company-level disruptor in the southwest corner of Militia Farms, not coincidentally within range of the colony's center. The large lasers were emplaced at the northwest corner of Militia Farms, where they could provide defense against aerial attack on the landing pad or Militia Farms.

  When he assumed authority, the General had a narrow patrol road built around the perimeter of the entire colony area, ostensibly to patrol for nomads. Since the snipers had arrived on the scene, however, the road was used mostly for daylight patrols and hovertrucks transporting reinforcements; the patrols varied their schedules and routes to avoid ambushes. Still, they would have to cross it, and it was alarmed.

  Zant was confident that his people would remember the details of the pictures. Illiterate people tend to be visually oriented, and besides, these had been frontiersmen studying the layout of their territory. He was willing to bet that each of them had already selected locations for booby traps and bombs.

  He sighed. Time to wrap it up. "I won't lie to you," he said grimly. "There's very little chance that all of us will make it out, and a pretty fair chance none of us will. The General's people are tough, experienced fighters. Do not expect them to do anything stupid!"

  He hurried through packing his own demo pack, so he would have time to inspect those of the trappers, and then spent the next hour advising them on balance and knots.

  Overall, though, Zant was pleased with his men. Once packed, they simply waited, perhaps wiping down their crossbow, or talking quietly. There was almost no obvious nervousness. Of course, these were men who could sit patiently in wait for hours for a single shot at a mountain dino or bear.

  Then, it was time to set off. Six snipers accompanied them; the usual patrol was six in number, and Zant wanted to make certain that no second shots would be required. If any of the soldiers managed to hit the ground fighting, there was very little chance Zant's crew would be able to slip past.

  They made surprisingly good time through the Giant Forest. Zant's men were as skilled at moving through the forest with a load as the snipers were. The night in a fireless camp amid the sounds of life and death around them was hardly comfortable, however.

  Before dark on the second day, they reached the edge of the forest, peering from the underbrush edging the trees at the endless rolling expanse before them. Large areas of nearly-waist-high grass were punctuated by wooded patches of trees dwarfed by the monsters of the forest.

  Their escorts led them over a series of small hills before calling them to a halt atop one whose crest was a tangle of trees and underbrush. The perimeter road was a straight scar across the land. "We'll wait here." The sniper leader said. "Our runner will know where to find us."

  He led Zant to the edge of the wooded patch. "We're between two of their routes here," he said. "Actually, I expect them to use the one north of us; they haven't used it for over a week."

  Once again, the frontiersman's infinite patience revealed itself as the trappers settled down in the fading light to wait for word of the route the patrol would take.

  Chapter 16

  "They have learned to avoid patrolling during daylight," their guide told Zant. "They use their big wagons, which our bullets will not penetrate. It was quite a problem for us until we learned that the things on their eyes let them see in the dark." He paused. "It cost two lives to learn that, but now we all have them."

  Zant frowned. "I'm really sorry. I'm surprised Cale didn't mention night-vision glasses to you, but I guess he couldn't think of everything." His own people all had them, of course.

  The man nodded. "Sire Cale had much to tell us. It is not surprising that something like that escaped him. We would have lost many more if he had not warned us of the heat pictures, and the capacitance alarms." The man stumbled over the unfamiliar word, but he continued, "And knowing that the body armor would not protect us against most of the star weapons saved many lives."

  Zant nodded. "So, how many have your men killed?"

  The man shrugged. "It is not possible to verify every kill, and many are only wounded. But from my village we are certain of two dozen. Three other villages hunt star men, and they tell of similar numbers.

  "Whew!" Zant said admiringly. "The General only had 300 men to start with. Between the flitter attacks and the box canyon, we took out at least 50. If you took out another 75, he's down to about 175." He shook his head. "We've cut his force almost in half, and haven't fought a major battle! Amazing."

  After a moment, he sobered. "The General's got to be getting pretty desperate. He's going to have to launch an all-out attack on the Four Kings very soon."

  He called Cale and told him what he'd learned. Cale whistled. "Wow! We don't have much time. If
your raid doesn't work, he won't waste any time; he'll come after us. I'll brief everybody. Good luck. Very good luck!"

  The sniper leader was looking puzzled. "Why must he attack very soon? Can he not sit behind his guard stations and dare you to attack him?"

  Zant shook his head. "He can't do that because of you," he said. "Every day he sits here, he's losing people he cannot afford to lose. The farmers will not fight for him, and will overthrow him if they can. King Karel would rebel in an instant. He has to attack while he has enough trained soldiers to launch an attack while still maintaining control here."

  They talked for a while longer about tactics the snipers could use if the General stripped the colony for an attack force. Finally, the runner appeared, muttering quietly to the sniper leader.

  The man smiled. "I was right. They are using the route to the north. We have about an hour to cross the road and set an ambush."

  One by one, the sixteen men crept across the road, led by the snipers. Zant was the last to cross, hoping fervently that none of them had triggered a capacitance alarm.

  A sniper awaited him on the other side of the road to guide him to the sniper leader.

  Surprisingly, the ambush site was not in the underbrush of a wooded patch, but in open, nearly waist-high grass. "They try to detour around the trees," the man explained. "At first we almost always hit them from the trees; now they're very cautious about trees, but as long as we stay down and quiet, they can't spot us in the tall grass."

  Zant looked around. The snipers had made certain his men were scattered; there was no telltale unevenness in the sea of grass.

  It was forty minutes later that Zant's night vision glasses detected a flicker of movement. The troops were good, he decided. The six figures moved in silence, spread and staggered, night vision glasses scanning unceasingly in all directions. He held his breath as one of the shadows glided by, barely rippling the tall grass. Very good, Zant amended.