A Fighting Chance (42 page)

Vanderveen was no stranger to violence, or to warfare for that matter, but had never been part of a planetary invasion. And she was nearly overwhelmed by the assault on her senses as Booly, the Warrior Queen, and the rest of them clattered down a ramp and onto the reddish soil. Half a dozen senior officers were waiting to update Booly on the tactical situation as Santana and his soldiers formed a protective cordon around the VIPs. Vanderveen took the opportunity to look around.

A complicated tracery of white lines carved the blue sky into dozens of abstract shapes as the life-and-death struggle for air superiority continued, and the ground shook as artillery rounds fired from twenty miles away marched across the LZ. The first couple of explosions did little more than throw fountains of reddish soil high into the air. But the third scored a direct hit on a troop transport and blew it apart. Chunks of flying metal cut an entire squad down, struck an assault boat that was in the process of landing a hundred yards away, and destroyed that as well.

It all happened so quickly that Vanderveen was still trying to absorb it as a pall of smoke rose to obscure the scene, the artillery shells continued to march across the LZ, and a newly arrived quad lurched past. It was surrounded by a pack of rakish T-2s, all armed with shoulder-mounted missile launchers, ready to defend the larger cyborg from speedy attack vehicles. The stench of smoke, fuel, and ozone was thick in Vanderveen’s nostrils as servos whined, a Dag screamed past, and a series of explosions were heard.

Vanderveen’s thoughts were interrupted as Santana approached on a T-2 with another cyborg at his side. “It’s time to saddle up. This is Corporal Haskins. She’ll take good care of you.”

Vanderveen had ridden T-2s before though not recently. But old habits returned quickly as the diplomat circled around behind the cyborg and made use of the recesses built into the back of the trooper’s legs to climb upwards. A helmet was waiting for her. Once she put it on and the safety harness was fastened, it was time to say hello. “Thanks for the ride, Corporal. I’ve done this before, but it’s been a while. Don’t hesitate to boss me around.”

The voice on the intercom was female. “Roger that, ma’am . . . Just keep your head down. The major told me that I’ll be stationed on a one-woman asteroid if anything happens to you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Vanderveen promised and made a mental note to complain about the special treatment later. Although the truth was that she was equally guilty, because she had known Dietrich for as long as she’d known Santana and given the noncom similar instructions. With the exception of the Queen, who was larger than a T-2 and fully capable of keeping up with one, the rest of the party was strapped onto cyborgs and ready to depart. Chancellor Ubatha had been ordered to remain behind and assume control of the Ramanthian government if necessary. Booly gave the group a last-minute briefing via the company-level push. “The enemy is trying to pin us down long enough to bring their heavy armor to bear. They plan to win the battle in orbit, establish air superiority, and trap us in the LZ.

“So we’re going to break out, use our speed to flank their tanks, and kill them. Meanwhile, a flight of vid cams will follow her majesty into battle and live footage of her return will be fed to the Ramanthian population. Questions?”

“Yes, sir,” Santana replied. “What happens if her majesty gets killed?”

Booly was about to respond when the Queen interrupted. “In that case, her majesty will have a very bad day.”

The human-style joke produced nervous laughter. Booly spoke once it died down. “I think that covers it, Major . . . But since it’s
your
job to keep her alive, we don’t have anything to worry about, do we?”

There was an edge to Booly’s words. And Vanderveen understood why. Like it or not, the general had to obey Nankool’s orders. And the need to protect the Queen in the midst of a planetary invasion was a heavy burden. So Santana’s skepticism was like salt in an open wound. For some reason, she was reminded of the lunch with Maylo Chien-Chu and the Wula Sticks. What was it the seer had said? “Your fates are bound together?” That was certainly the case.

“No, sir,” Santana replied levelly. “Nothing at all.”

“Good,” Booly said. “Pass the word . . . The regiment will advance.”

Parth was going to die. That was clear to him as the open command car that he and the Queen were riding in led a powerful wedge of Gantha tanks forward. The only question was
how
. Would he be blown up? Burned to death? Or simply shot? There was no way to be sure of anything but the final outcome. Because the animals had not only been able to land in force but had established a foothold on Hive’s sacred soil and destroyed the quick-response force sent to stop them. All in a matter of hours rather than the days or weeks the generals had first predicted.

That was why the Queen was determined to do battle with the invaders before night fell. Because if she didn’t, the invaders might have so much momentum it would be virtually impossible to stop them. So Parth was there, sitting directly behind the royal as the wind whipped past him and a salvo of long-range surface-to-surface missiles came sleeting in from the east. They were receiving guidance from Confederacy vessels high above, so most of the weapons hit their marks. Explosions flashed all around as Gantha tanks began to die, and the rest of the formation was forced to circumvent.

But the huge multitiered steel monsters were far from helpless. Their 120mm guns made a sound similar to rolling thunder as they sent “smart” artillery shells racing downrange. Parth knew, because General Amm had explained it, that the precision-guided munitions were equipped with fins, steering rockets,
and
an integrated GPS tracking system. All of which enabled them to strike targets well over the horizon. Plus, imperial forces had vehicle-mounted missile launchers that could track the incoming weapons and use the resulting data to fire at enemy launchers. So even though Parth couldn’t
see
the damage, he knew that the enemy was suffering casualties as well.

But that knowledge was scant comfort as the side-to-side line of bipedal monster-things appeared in the distance. Each of the horrors was carrying a rider and running an unpredictable zigzag pattern. Sparks appeared as they fired shoulder-launched missiles, which made sinuous snakelike turns as they locked in on Ramanthian vehicles and left trails of light gray smoke behind them. Parth closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable explosion of light, but nothing happened. So he opened his eyes just in time to see a scout car fly apart as an entirely new threat lumbered out of the smoke ahead.

Parth knew that the four-legged walkers were called quads. They carried missiles, guns, and troops. Human troops, Clone troops, and Hudathan troops. The latter were the most terrifying because of their reputation for ruthless savagery. The cyborgs fired, explosions rippled across the battlefield, and the command car was still unscathed.
We’ll be in among them soon,
Parth thought to himself as he fumbled with the rifle he had been issued. Could the weapon stop a Hudathan? Such were Parth’s thoughts as General Amm’s voice sounded inside his helmet. “You can watch live video of the imposter on channel three. The animals are broadcasting it far and wide. They
want
us to see her.”

Parth switched the heads-up display on the inside surface of his visor to video and selected channel three. There he saw raw footage of what looked like a Kathong. The creature was running with the tireless efficiency of what it was: a machine. And even though Parth knew he was looking at a cybernetic vehicle, and even though he knew the animals were using Ramanthian mythology for their own perverted purposes, the image still had power.

The Queen had been looking at channel three as well. And her voice was contemptuous. “It’s a costume and nothing more. We’ll bury her in it.”

Once again, Parth was impressed by the Queen’s clarity, courage, and purpose. A flight of missiles came flashing in, a Gantha vanished in a slow-motion ball of flame, and the command car rocked as a wall of displaced air rushed past it. Parth gripped his rifle and experienced a moment of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he would survive the day.

Everything was clear. Booly could see the clouds of smoke that were boiling up into the air, the columns of dust generated by thousands of vehicles that were coming straight at him, and what the ancient Zulus called “the horns of the bull” to his left and right, as the Legion’s
2
^nd
Regiment Etranger De Cavalerie
, and elements of the Hegemony’s 1
^st
Armored Division, sought to flank the Ramanthians. And the T-2’s power was
his
power as the machine carried him forward. He gloried in the way the air flowed around him, the way every sense had been fully awakened, and the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins.

Then the time for reflection was over as the two armies collided and penetrated each other. A wild free-for-all ensued. It was the kind of battle that the Legion’s cavalry hungered for. And in that moment the wild conglomeration of fugitives, criminals, and idealists who made up the Legion wanted to kill. And Booly, who had spent his entire adult life among them, was no different. Finally, after years spent behind a desk, he was a soldier once again.

As the quads and Ganthas continued to trade earthshaking blows, the T-2s and Haba attack sleds dashed in and out, using their larger cousins for cover. Meanwhile, in the midst of the surrounding madness, a battle within a battle was under way.

Having claimed a slight rise as her own, the Warrior Queen was putting on a fearsome display of what her Kathong body was capable of. Not only could it take repeated hits from a variety of weaponry, it had considerable offensive capability as well. That could be seen as she fired green energy bolts from the trident clenched in her scorpion-like tail. The blasts were powerful enough to destroy anything less than a Gantha tank. But it took thirty seconds to recharge her accumulators, so it was necessary that she defend herself with the machine guns built into her tool arms between salvos.

The Warrior Queen would have been overrun, though, along with the rest of her party, had it not been for Santana and his platoon of legionnaires. They formed a cordon around the rise and were kept very busy. And as the radio message came in, Santana was starting to worry. There had been casualties. Lots of them. And the bugs kept coming. “Orbital Control to RAM Six,” a voice said in his ear. “An enemy ship is closing on your position from the west. The Dags are trying to shoot it down but no luck so far. We think they plan to crash it on top of you. Over.”

Santana looked west, but the incoming ship hadn’t broken the horizon yet. “This is RAM Six. Roger, that. But how would they pick us out of the crowd? Over.”

“We believe they are homing in on the signals being broadcast from the vid cams,” came the answer. “We recommend that you destroy them immediately. Over.”

Santana looked at the Warrior Queen, saw that three of what had been six vid cams were still buzzing around her, and swore. “Atkins . . . Destroy those vid cams. And do it
now
.”

“No!” came Booly’s voice, as he and his T-2 materialized out of the drifting smoke. A group of aides and bodyguards could be seen immediately behind the officer. “Kill two of the cameras and delegate the third to me,” Booly said.

“But sir,” Santana objected, “that would . . .”

“That’s an order,” Booly growled. “Do it.”

Santana glanced toward the west. The Ramanthian freighter was visible and getting larger with each passing second. Tiny, insectlike Daggers were attacking the behemoth, and smoke trailed behind it, but it continued to bore in. “You heard the general, Atkins. Kill two of the cameras.”

The T-2 fired two shots in quick succession and the cameras exploded. Then, having delegated the last machine to Booly, Santana turned to tell him as much. But the general and his aides were already on the run, with the globe-shaped vid cam in hot pursuit.

The essence of Booly’s plan was clear. If he could lead the camera away from the Warrior Queen, the Ramanthian ship would follow. But could he execute the move in time? The freighter had come much closer. Santana could see the flare of the vessel’s repellers, the dust they churned up, and flash after flash as missiles hit the already devastated hull.

Should he take the Queen and make a run for it? Or would that make the royal even more vulnerable? Santana was still thinking about the pros and cons as the wedge-shaped ship began to turn its nose away from the rise and toward Booly. Then, with increasing speed, the freighter entered a shallow dive and followed the signal in.

Booly looked up, saw the huge mass coming straight for him, and ordered his party to scatter. Then his thoughts turned to Maylo.
Good-bye, dearest, good-bye . . . I’ll be waiting.

Then the ship was upon him, crushing all that he was under its unimaginable weight, as the freighter’s blunt nose began to plow its way across the Plain of Pain. Waves of dirt curled away from the bow as the hull slid for the better part of two miles before the ship finally came to rest. And, in addition to killing the Confederacy’s highest-ranking general, the spaceship obliterated two quads and more than a dozen T-2s. That opened a path that ran deep into the Confederacy’s ranks. A road to victory.

“Now!” the Queen shouted, as the freighter struck. “Follow it in.” The original plan had been compromised. She knew that. But the way was open, and that meant it was possible to salvage victory from the jaws of defeat. So with a company of Imperial Guards for support, and careless of the bullets that buzzed all around her, the Queen stood as the command car pursued a zigzagging course between smoking wrecks, groups of combatants, and occasional rock formations.

And then the command car was there, within sight of the bodies that lay in bloody drifts, and the defiant creature that stood on top of the rise. It produced a bloodcurdling chittering sound, sent a ball of coherent energy flying at the royal vehicle, and scored a hit. The impact sent the Queen and several members of her party tumbling out onto the ground.