IronStar

by Hallman, Grant

  On her forearm, the wristcomp's attention-alarm was vibrating silently and insistently. Its comm light was flashing a sullen yellow. What?! On the unit's small screen she read:

 
  < Signal format SS.G 90->800 MHz, assurance (99+)

  < Packet structure B.11 or B.16, assurance (99+)

  < Encryption mode KAD.331, assurance (99+)

 
  < Signal type Mil/handheld or Mil/powered-suit, voice.

  < Signal consistent with nearby source (0->3 km)

  < Signal bearing 039->052 by -009->012

 
 
  Kirrah stared in openmouthed horror for a few more seconds, then the sound of shouting brought her attention back to her physical surroundings. Two hundred meters downstream, Peetha's forces were riding hard toward her position. Upstream and coming at a dead run was Rash'koi's party. Behind her the remaining boatmen and mortar crew were scrambling for bows and extra bundles of arrows. And everyone was shouting at her. A tide of horsemen filled the river, some still mounted, some swimming alongside their horses, a few clearly floundering in the deeper water.

  Within half a minute she was surrounded by forty mounted archers and another thirty bowmen on foot. Peetha shouted orders and half her forces, her Wrth warriors, galloped back down the river and began spacing themselves out at seven or eight meter intervals. Kruss comm traffic? Her mind reeled at the implications.

  Rash'koi quickly organized his standing archers and shortly a volley of grenade arrows flew high into the air, to come down almost vertically on the swimming Wrth in a hundred-meter arc of flash and blinding spray. Riders fought for control as horses swung in panicky circles. This was not going to be a good day for the Wrth, Kirrah anticipated. Kruss? Here, on her planet? How? From the wristcomp's bearing estimate, the transmission was coming from one of the O’dai sailing ships. She sincerely hoped it was one of the burning ships. I want that Kruss! I want to know who it was talking to!

  Another volley of grenades fell in the water farther upstream, scattering and confusing more of the swimming raiders. Here and there a circle of ripples marked where a warrior or mount had gone under. The leading edge of the Wrth was about halfway across now, and Irshe's sharpshooters were starting to pick off raiders who dared to show themselves more than a handsbreadth above the water. Upstream two of the O'dai ships were fully aflame, and two more were burning in several places. The remaining damaged transport ship was pulled up to the far shore and smoking from several small fires. One of the siege ships was wallowing mid-river, its portside oars tangled with the broken throwing beam. The other, along with the two intact excise ships, were pulling hard upstream. Across the river's hundred-ten meter breadth, more and more Wrth were sinking out of sight. Wake up, Lieutenant Roehl, your student-warriors have identified a threat and you're woolgathering about something you can't do anything about!

  “Rash'koi!” she called. “Can you send some men up-river, spaced out like Peetha's done, and stop the Wrth from landing! They'll be sitting targets as they come out of the water!” The Lieutenant hurried to comply. Across the river, more Wrth were gathering, watching the drama playing out in the water. Wrth bolts continued to fly, a constant hazard to face and bare limbs.

  “Irshe! Can you hear me and shoot?”

  “Yes, Warmaster” the tall man acknowledged, nocking another arrow and watching for another hapless swimmer to show a target.

  “My, my object-which-speaks, it has just heard the voice of a similar object. But Irshe…” she paused as he drew and loosed, skewering another Wrth in the water, “the other object-which-speaks, it belongs to my enemies from the sky… I don't know what it means, but one of them is here, here with the O'dai, and it is using the device to speak to more of them, I… I don't know where.”

  “Warmaster, are we in danger from this immediately?” Another arrow nocked, gray eyes scanning the water. Irregularly but frequently, bodkin arrows flew from up and down the line of Talamae, often scoring on a swimming target.

  “I don't think so… but Irshe, remember I told you my not-sword was the least of my people's weapons? I fear my enemies have brought stronger weapons, against which all our forces are chaff… I may have killed all of Talam, just by being here, just by helping…” Irshe put up his bow and turned to her.

  “The Wrth were killing us before you arrived, Kirrah. There is only one death.” His calm eyes looked into hers. “We have accepted you as our Warmaster, all Talamae. Two lives balanced.”

  “Against Wrth! Against O'dai! Not against beamers and pulsers and smartshots and… and orbital bombardment! Gods! I do not have even the words… there are weapons that would destroy our entire force here, from one of those ships in two heartbeats!” Kirrah's voice kept rising as she spoke, higher and harsher… “Irshe, there are weapons that would smash the entire city of Talameths’cha into a large hole in the ground with a single blow, and kill everyone for fifty doi’la around the city! What have I done to you!”

  “You have allied with us, you have placed your life with ours. You have stood with us against six thousand Wrth, and against the power of the O'dai navy. Kirrah… Kirrah! Listen to me…” his eyes captured her gaze. “You have made our enemies yours, live or die. Just so, your enemies are ours. Live or die. That is the smallest part of two lives balanced.” He paused, one hand on her shoulder. Kirrah took a deep, shuddering breath.

  “And now, Warmaster, if we are not immediately going to be cut down by sky-weapons, shall we return to our present problem?” All up and down the near bank, Wrth were dragging themselves into the shallows. Not nearly as many as had started from the far shore, Kirrah noticed. As they touched riverbottom, horse and rider clambered into the shallows. Here and there man and beast stumbled on the irregular bottom. As they rose above the surface, the attackers fell, one by one, pierced with Talamae arrows. Peetha's war-whoop was joined by her fellows, as her squad enthusiastically slaughtered their erstwhile countrymen. Well, that should end any doubts about the loyalty of my 'students', Kirrah thought.

  From upstream, shouts rose as two mounted Wrth reached dry land, only to be felled by Rash'koi's archers. This is going to be close… As she watched, the Wrth swam and splashed into range and were cut down as they reached the shallows, like a busy day at the butcher shop. Nowhere were more than two or three enemy reaching shore at the same time, and the deadly efficient line of archers picked them off like target practice as they labored, exhausted and floundering, across five or six meters of shallow muddy bottom. The water along the bank of the Geera was turning noticeably pink.

  Peetha turned from her position and approached Kirrah. “Warmaster,” she said. “See there, on the far bank, those watching warriors. That one on the dark gray horse, that is Wyrakka, their war-leader. Slay him and the rest may depart.”

  “Thank you, Peetha. Is there any way to get him to talk?”

  “Warmaster, they are allied with the O'dai. This has never happened in the Wrth nation's history, and it has happened in secret. When I was Wrth, none of the warriors knew of this alliance. I do not know what he plans, but I have never known him to change his mind because of opposition.” Yeah, I know the type… and there are still over four thousand of them, plus what's left of those poor bastards in the river.

  Kirrah drew her beamer and selected full power. She took careful aim at the man over a hundred meters away on the far bank, sitting in his saddle and watching impassively as his warriors struggled and died in the river. She paused. Planted her feet wide, gripped the beamer mindfully, took in a deep breath, let out a careful one-third, stilled herself into the sniper's mind, aimed… and let out her breath again.

  “Is Warmaster's target too far to strike?” asked Peetha.

  “I can't do it, it …it feels like murder. He's just …si
tting there.”

  “I do not understand, Warmaster. We are killing hundreds of these fools who try to swim to attack us. Yet he is chief of your enemies. All the deaths have flowed from his purpose, all the deaths that are happening now and will still happen. If you can slay him, why do you hesitate?” That's a damn good question, Kirrah admitted to herself. Irshe turned at their words and said:

  “Now I see the strength of your warmaking above the sky. You do not look on your enemy's face when you slay him. When I asked how you know when it is time to stop fighting, you had no answer. Now I have another question - how do you know when it is time to start?”

  “To …start?”

  “Kirrah’jasa, this is not a thing of anger. It is a thing of need, of lives saved. Let me have a dozen bowmen and grenade-arrows, we will kill him for you.”

  “No! …I'm sorry,” Kirrah added as both officers stepped back from her explosive denial. “You are both correct. But we cannot spare the archers, there are still too many Wrth in the water. And I will not ask you to do something I will not do myself. Peetha, stand before me. I will use your shoulder to steady my aim. Face toward me, so the flash does not dazzle you. Stand very, very still.” Kirrah selected the beamer's comm-link mode, which the hand unit could use to punch a signal through atmosphere to a ship in orbit. An optical sight snapped into place, giving ten to one magnification. The young Wrth woman stood like a post before her, utterly motionless. Kirrah was a few centimeters taller, and stood slightly higher on the bank. She rested her right wrist on the other woman's right shoulder, and sighted through the beamer's optics. A pair of fine yellow lines met in the center, wavering over the distance. The magnification clearly showed the group of Wrth leaders sitting on their horses. This is going to be one long pistol shot.

  Kirrah took a moment to absorb the target view. She glanced right, to look into Peetha's brown eyes watching her intently. Some elemental understanding passed between them. Kirrah could feel the assurance and confidence from her young protégé. Peetha broke eye contact first, staring off fixedly into space over Kirrah's right shoulder. At that moment, another cry floated down from the two raptors still circling high in the heavens.

  Everything became very still in Kirrah’s perception. The warriors struggling in the water, the arrows flying in both directions, the shouts of men fighting fires on the burning ships, all receded. Only the image of a handful of mounted men on the far bank existed. Only one man on his horse. Only his face, looking directly at Kirrah. Her body settled slightly in place, each bone seeming to come to a complete stillness against its fellow. Her breath went in, a fraction came out, stopped. The crosshairs wavered slightly back and forth across the face of her enemy. Can I kill this man?

  Wrong question, Lieutenant. You have already answered that question. He has already answered it. The right question is, can you hit your target? Steady… no shot… don't shoot just so you can draw breath - stand down a moment, take a couple of deep breaths… he's pointing this way. In a moment more, he'll move and you'll lose the shot. Ok, this is an absurd distance to try for a headshot with a hand weapon, we don't need finesse, a body hit will do. Breath in, out a little and hold… synchronize with the slight wandering of the aimpoint, watch how it steadies for half a second or a second at a time, just a bit off-target, tune in to its rhythm… coming back now… CRAKK! Peetha flinched at the report no more than a fencepost would have.

  Across the river, a puff of gray smoke flew from the front of her target. The man sat motionless in her magnified sights. A cheer rose from the Wrth, then slowly the man tilted to his left and a few seconds later, tumbled bonelessly from his saddle. Riders dismounted and surrounded him. Peetha's eyes were closed, Kirrah noticed, and her face calm and composed under the brand on her forehead.

  “It is done. Thank you, my warrior-commander, for your shoulder. From this day, you and the people serving here with you are no longer my students, but my warriors.”

  It took another ten minutes for the line of longbowmen to massacre the last of the Wrth crossing the river. Only eight of them actually set foot on the south shore, and those only for seconds. Like a conveyer, Kirrah thought - a brave, defiant, stupid, macho, ill-led conveyer of dead soldiers coming to throw themselves at our arrows. So be it. We have plenty.

  When the last of the Wrth attackers were drowned or cut down by the deadly shafts, the Talamae were able to return their attention to the warships. The remaining damaged transport vessel was smoking a little, but the fires were coming under control. With some reluctance, Kirrah ordered the expenditure of more mortar rounds to finish the job. Two shots holed the unlucky ship's bottom, leaving eleven more rounds carried on the mortarmen's horses. Farther upriver, the two excise ships and one damaged siege ship were moving away. A few more flights of fire arrows completed the destruction of the other siege ship still wallowing mid-river.

  A bedraggled-looking collection of O'dai sailors was assembling on the north shore, well back from the river at a distance they obviously believed was safely out of bowshot. Kirrah noticed that the Wrth, who had excellent reason to know otherwise, did not enlighten their allies about their potentially lethal underestimation of her longbows’ range.

  The task force quickly bundled up their supplies and set off in pursuit of the three remaining O'dai vessels already half a kilometer up the river, paced by the somewhat reduced mass of Wrth riding along the north bank. A group of Wrth remained behind, clustered around their fallen leader. Kirrah rode with Peetha between Captains Crath’pae and Og’drai, planning how to ambush the surviving enemy ships and find the presumed Kruss aboard one of them. Moving inland, soon their horses pulled ahead of the O'dai rowing up the river. By the time they reached the other four boats they had sent on ahead, their plans were ready. Dismounting, Kirrah could not remember a time she’d ever felt so weary.

  When the O'dai approached their new position, thirty archers rose from cover and loosed a rain of fire arrows on the three warships. The O’dai sailors replied with a volley of crossbow quarrels, which wounded two more of Rash’koi’s men. As the O’dai began to reload, three of the four small Talamae boats pushed off from concealment on the bank, loaded with a dozen soldiers each including Peetha and all the Wrth converts. Pulling hard on their oars, they quickly covered the forty meters to the nearest target, the damaged siege ship, last in line. More arrows kept the defenders' heads down as the Talamae boatmen grappled to the larger ship. Soon men and the few Wrth women under Peetha's command were swarming up the side of the vessel on ropes.

  Kirrah anxiously watched the first of her soldiers pull themselves over the rail. Within seconds a fierce hand-to-hand struggle was raving across the deck, most of it slightly too high above the water to be seen from the low bank. The Talamae oarsmen clambered up to join the fray. Flames licked greedily where oil-filled arrowheads had burst, and from the look of things, the O'dai sailors were giving priority to the boarders and letting the fire have its way. Both the other excise ships began to row hard astern, with the evident intent of closing the thirty-meter gap and assisting their besieged sister, and Kirrah ordered her mortars into action.

  The first round landed square amidships of the lead O'dai ship, just as it lost way in the current and began to drift back towards its companions. The second shot took the other excise ship on the foredeck, spraying sailors with splinters and shrapnel. All the O'dai ships were dead in the water now, beginning to be carried back downstream by the current. The third shot struck the lead ship just aft of the first impact, throwing men and debris into the water. The fourth hit the second ship just inside its near gunwale, blowing a two-meter chunk of rail halfway to the near shore and leaving a ragged gap in the decking. Thirty enthusiastic archers kept up a hail of fire and grenades against the excise ships, while sparing, for the sake of their boarding party, the siege ship where savage fighting continued. A fifth round landed in the water close to the side of the lead ship, cracking the planking. Kirrah called a halt to the mortar barrage
with six rounds remaining.

  Soon the struggling O'dai managed to get ropes onto the contested siege ship, succeeding in turning the entire flotilla into a drifting tangle of burning ships and vicious hand-to-hand fighting. Kirrah quickly ordered another dozen men including Irshe into the remaining boat, climbed in herself and set out to join the conflict.

  As they reached the side of the nearest ship, the waterline cracks in its planking could be heard audibly sucking in river water. The clash and thumps of fighting carried down to them. They swarmed up strands of ruined rigging trailing in the water and vaulted over the rail to a scene of riot. On the adjacent siege ship, thirty Talamae invaders were formed in two back-to-back lines across the stern, one line battling with a desperate few sailors defending the tiller. The other line was in turn surrounded by a mob of twice as many O'dai seamen on the central deck, armed with swords and a few heavy crossbows. As Kirrah watched, another Talamae was felled by a bolt at short range.

  Everyone seemed to be occupied at the moment… at her quick orders, Irshe's men loosed a flight of arrows that took down all the enemy crossbowmen. His next volley followed quickly, spreading shock and dismay among the O'dai attackers as eight of their men were felled from behind. Peetha was visible whirling and slashing like a fiend, blood up both arms and across her fiercely grinning face. All her Wrth were simply outmatching the O'dai sailors in viciousness and sheer murderous energy, except where outright numbers blunted the odds. On the north shore, Wrth were gathering and firing indiscriminately into the melee with their lighter crossbows. The three bound ships were beginning to spin slowly in the current.

  Another five sailors came pounding up a ladder from belowdecks, and turned in surprise to see Kirrah and her men standing on their deck a few meters away. With a howl, they drew short swords and knives and charged the Talamae archers. Kirrah drew and fired three shots in quick succession, her weapon preset to seventy percent power. Each shot struck one of the men in a leg or foot, and the two remaining attackers stopped in stunned shock at the sight of the brilliant flashes and their companions writhing on the bloody deck.