Starfist: Lazarus Rising (40 page)

Bass shrugged. "Move slowly to the beltway, so people will think you're just going back out to join the rest of the army, and then go like hell when you get to the highway. Shoot anyone who tries to stop you. When you get to your jump-off point,
here,
debouch into two columns, one straight to Wayvelsberg and the other to the barracks and the airfield. It'll be cross-country, but your Gabriels and your personnel carriers were made for cross-country maneuvers. Yeah, you'll be in plain sight, but they won't expect an attack from that direction. Remember, they think your army is demoralized and inefficient and understrength and underequipped and all that. And everyone thinks you're buffoons."

"Gunny Bass is right," Major Devi said. "Let's do it!"

"What are our choices anyway?" the battalion commander said. "We're all dead men if we stay here. At least this way we'll go down fighting. And when word gets out to the field army, maybe someone else will take up after us—"

"No! No! And no again!"
Bass roared, "No fucking maybes! None of that kind of thinking, Colonel! You will
not
die, you
will
succeed, you
will
kill them, and you
will
rescue your general! You start thinking you're going to be defeated and you sure as hell will be! Goddamnit, men, you're
soldiers
, not a bunch of Special Group
wimps
! You've got right and honor and whatever gods you want on your side, damnit, now go out there and get some!"

They all stood silently, staring at Bass, who had just become General Lambsblood's de facto replacement.

"All right, men," the battalion commander said, breaking the silence, "you heard the man. Let's move!" The officers sent up a cheer and everyone ran for the doors.

At the agreed-upon time and place, Gunnery Sergeant Bass, Major Devi, along with Zechariah Brattle and the people who accompanied them from New Salem, boarded a military vehicle and picked up Uma Devi.

"Gunny Bass," Devi shouted, "get into position. Stay on the radio. When I give you the word, go in!" He stepped over and hugged his sister. "Oh, Bass, by the way, how in the world did you come up with that plan so quickly, and using a map you'd never seen before?"

Bass shrugged and grinned. "Major, I'm just real good at this military shit."

CHAPTER 29

"Well, children," Bass said as he started the engine, "are you ready? Uma?"

"Yes, Charles," Uma Devi answered from the back of the vehicle, where she was sitting next to Colleen and Chet. She was a statuesque, athletic woman, very attractive, Bass thought as he guided the vehicle into the empty side street. He'd demonstrated to her how to load and fire the fléchette rifle that she gripped tightly by its forward hand guard. She'd been a quick study.

"Uma, why did you volunteer to come along on this mission?" Colleen asked.

"Because Jaimie is at Wayvelsberg Castle."

"Who's Jaimie?"

"My fiancé," Uma replied. "And my brother will be there too, we hope. We do things together in my family," she said with nervous smile.

Bass shook his head. "Uma, they threw the mold away when they made you." He clapped Raipur on the shoulder. He was riding shotgun. "Let's go over the plan one more time."

"Turn right at the next cross street," Uma directed.

Bass nodded. "Uma," he continued, "guides us to within half a klick of the castle, where we ditch this car in the woods. We approach on foot to the dirt road and go to ground there until we get word that the battalion force is in position. I set the first charge. When we're inside, Raipur, Zechariah, and I go up the stairs to the top and set the second charge. Chet, Colleen, and Uma—you cover our backs while we're going up. In that narrow stairwell any attacker from outside will never get in if you concentrate your fire."

"Straight ahead four blocks, then right at the next light," Uma said.

"Time?" Bass asked.

"1750."

"Now, if the attack doesn't materialize but I can still get into Wayvelsberg Castle, I'm going in by myself," Bass told them. "The rest of you are excused."

"Not me," Zechariah answered.

"Nor me," Raipur said.

The others, even Uma, also insisted on volunteering.

"Zechariah, yes; Raipur, okay; but Colleen, Chet, Uma, no. You don't have a personal stake in any of this like Zechariah and I do, and Raipur's a professional soldier. So why risk your lives? If there's no attack, you ditch your weapons and get out of here. I mean it. No arguments. I'm going to get Comfort back or die trying. In any event, with or without the armored column, I'm going to kill some of those bastards."

"Straight ahead until the road bends to the right, maybe two kilometers," Uma said. "You can see the roof of Wayvelsberg now, over the tops of the trees, off to the right." The traffic was light, with no pedestrians and only a few of the ubiquitous horse-drawn vehicles driven by civilians going about their normal late afternoon business. "Pull over here," Uma said at last. Bass guided the car off the road and drove it deep into the bushes, beneath low-hanging tree limbs.

"Now we get out and walk," Uma said. "The dirt road to the rear of the castle is about a hundred meters down on our right."

They reached their final point and Bass parked. "We don't know how long it'll take the column to get into position, but let's move out smartly, people," Bass told them.

He passed out extra magazines for the weapons and slung the shaped charges over one shoulder. He had four of them, each weighing half a kilo. It never hurt to have a backup.

"What if someone sees us?" Uma asked, slinging her rifle.

"If they don't stop, fine. By the time they can give an alarm, we'll be inside.

Otherwise, kill them. I don't care who they are, shoot them. But let's hope nobody comes along until we're down that dirt road."

They trotted along in the slowly lengthening shadows, a little trail of dust rising in the still air behind them.

1801.

De Tomas gazed down upon Comfort's supine form. Her robe lay open down the front, exposing her to his gaze. Her eyes were closed. "We can't have this," he said aloud. He shook her by the shoulder. "Comfort! Awake, arise, my love!" She murmured something unintelligible but her eyes stayed closed. "Wake up, damn you to hell!" He shook her harder and swore. The dose had been too large! Now, instead of being just compliant, she lay there like a pillow!

"Do you need help, there, my leader?"

De Tomas whirled. "Gorman! What are you doing here? I didn't call for you. Get out!"

Gorman came nearer. "I have important news, my leader." He craned his neck, and seeing Comfort on the couch, his eyebrows arched and his lips twisted into a knowing smile. "Well, well, that little beautician wasn't good enough for you, eh?"

"Get out, you buffoon!

"You should hear what I have to say," Gorman persisted.

His smile infuriated de Tomas. "I'll tell you one more time, you stupid, useless dog,
get out of here
!" He moved toward Gorman, fists clenched.

Gorman raised his hands. "Calm, my leader, be calm! The Army of the Lord is on the move. There is a column of Gabriels on their way here. I thought you should know."

De Tomas hesitated. Then, "Damnit, Gorman, take care of them! You don't need me for that! Call out the Lifeguards! Now put your tail between your legs and leave us alone! That is an order, Gorman! Scat, scram, screw off.
Now!
You understand, you worthless cur?"

Gorman did not move, only stood there, leering.

De Tomas had never faced such defiance before, and he exploded. "Gorman, I made you and I can break you, and break you I will if you don't leave now!"

Gorman stood his ground, his smile gone now. "I'm a dog, am I? Well, Dominic, this dog just grew teeth." He drew his sidearm and fired from the hip. The bolt took off de Tomas's lower jaw and part of his tongue. He stood there, astonished, not comprehending that he'd just been shot. He tried to speak but the air only wheezed through his windpipe. Then he clapped his hands to his mangled, bleeding throat and staggered toward Gorman. The Deputy Leader sidestepped adroitly, and de Tomas crashed over an armchair onto the coffee table, which collapsed under his weight.

He lay there, gurgling and gasping for air.

"Oh, my," Gorman burbled, pleased with himself, "that was easy!" Then solicitously, bending over de Tomas's writhing body, he asked, "How are we doing there, Mr. Leader?" De Tomas only gurgled in reply. "Not so good," Gorman muttered. "Well..." He placed the muzzle of his handgun just behind de Tomas's ear and pressed the firing stud. A burst of fléchettes slammed into de Tomas's skull, and blood, brains, and bone splinters sprayed all over the room. Fragments splattered back onto Gorman, clinging to his clothes and face. "Disgusting," he muttered, holstering his sidearm. He wiped a brain fragment off his cheek and diffidently shook other gore off his uniform.

Someone banged on the door to the outer office and an anxious voice asked if there was a problem.

"Stay out of here!" Gorman roared. The banging stopped immediately.

Next he turned his attention to Comfort. It was now 1808.

They crouched in the bushes along the dirt road. Bass could clearly see the loading dock and the door, just as Uma had described it. It was hard to believe no one had spotted them. If Lambsblood had talked, they were walking into an ambush for sure. But there was no movement anywhere and it was very quiet. Bass flicked the Talk button on his radio. "Shipper, Shipper, this is Customer. We are at the Store. I say again, we are at the Store, over." Nothing but static. "Mohammed's pointed teeth," Bass muttered, shaking the radio. "Try yours," he told Raipur.

Raipur got only static on his set too. "The castle's blocking transmissions. These sets are too weak. We wait, Charles, that's all we can do," Raipur said.

"How long should it take them to get here from the depot?" Colleen asked.

Bass shrugged. "I don't know. Let's see. They were on their way at 1745 and it's now 1809. I guess it's twenty klicks from the depot to the jumping-off spot the way they went. They ought to be about in position by now, don't you think? How fast can one of those damned Gabriels travel over improved roads anyway?"

"Fifty kph, tops," Raipur answered.

"How are the streets around here at this hour?"

"Heavily clogged out that way," Uma answered.

Bass was concerned, for reasons he could not have articulated. But he knew his instincts had never betrayed him before. "I'm not waiting, I'm going in now," he said, then stood and trotted down the road toward the loading dock.

It was 1810.

Gorman bent over Comfort. He pulled her robe aside and admired her body. No wonder de Tomas wanted this little beauty, he thought. Well, every dog has his day, and this day was his. A battle was coming. He'd just stay here and let the Special Group bloody itself. Whoever won, he'd come out on top. He placed his lips over Comfort's and reached between her legs.

From far away he heard a dull thud, as if someone had slammed a door. Gorman paused and cocked an ear toward the secret stairway, where the noise seemed to have come from. And now alarms were sounding in the castle. He'd turned his head toward the door when Comfort drove the fruit knife up under his jaw. The keen blade sliced through his tongue and into the roof of his mouth, and Gorman pitched forward. As he did, she shoved the blade in deeper, using both hands. He grunted and managed to stagger to his feet, meanwhile trying to shriek his agony to the world, but the blade had stapled his tongue firmly into his soft palate. Blood flowed out of his mouth in a torrent, huge red drops splattering everywhere. He grabbed the knife handle and yanked the blade out. It clattered harmlessly to the floor. Holding both hands to his mouth, Gorman lurched into the same armchair over which de Tomas had just fallen and plunked down on top of his erstwhile leader.

Comfort rose to a sitting position, staring at Gorman while clutching her robe about her to hide her nakedness. She felt horrified and triumphant at the same time.

Gorman crawled away from de Tomas and got to his knees. One knee slid out from under him on the blood-slick rug and he pitched forward onto his face—the pain from his wound was so terrible he didn't realize two of his front teeth were knocked out when he hit the floor.

It was now 1815.

The first charge worked perfectly but left the door hanging by a massive hinge.

The door itself weighed no less than 120 kilos. Bass physically ripped it away and tossed it over the railing as if it were plywood. He saw stairs covered with debris, which rose into the darkness. Far off, the strident shriek of alarms sounded. He took the steps two at a time for the first five flights. He heard someone following him but did not look back. By the seventh flight his breath was coming in gasps. He hadn't known how out of shape he'd become.

"Give me the bomb!" Uma shouted as she came up beside him. Wordlessly, he handed her one of the charges. He'd shown everyone how to set them. She raced off up the last three flights of stairs as if riding a thermal.

Moments later Bass saw a bright flash, and heard a dull thud! Breathing hard, hand-blaster out and ready, he brushed past a grinning Uma and stepped inside.

The first thing he saw was a room in shambles. The second thing was a man crouching on the floor fumbling with a holster, drawing an ugly-looking fléchette gun. Before he could bring it to bear, Bass fricasseed him.

The traffic that day was heavy on the beltway, but the column forged on at top speed, causing a number of accidents as commuters dodged the heavy fighting vehicles. Eventually the commuters ahead of them caught on and drove helter-skelter for the sides of the road.

"Steady, steady!" the battalion commander cautioned over his command net.

"Keep your intervals, keep your intervals!"

"We're almost there!" Major Devi shouted above the roar of the command car's engine. He knew they were making good time. Bass should be in position by now.