Firemask: Book Two of the Last Legion Series (23 page)

“That was a very short time ago. Since then, all human units we monitor have maintained com silence.”

“I will assume,” Wlencing said, “the message was not one of mourning for the broken unit. We’ll maintain full alert, but take no action until we determine just what they are up to.”

But nothing happened, or rather appeared to happen for a while, and the night grew deeper.

• • •

Earlier that day, one of the two transports Hedley had “acquired” for his navy lifted away from Mullion Island. Escorted by the remaining
aksai
and one Zhukov, it flew nap-of-the-jungle east, away from Camp Mahan, then turned north in a convenient canyon that led south to the sea. It flew equally low over water, slowly, since it was a balky pig to pilot, until it was west-southwest of the mouth of Dharma Island’s great bay. Then it lowered into the ocean, submerging completely. Spacecraft, even though they’re not generally considered in that category, can make perfectly acceptable submarines, even if they generally have the floatation-at-rest capability of earth sharks and their heat signature is fairly marked.

The freighter moved steadily and slowly into the bay, following the dredged ship channel.

About five kilometers from Camp Mahan, it bottomed and lay doggo, waiting for the signal.

• • •

The three surviving regiments obeyed Rao’s orders from their bases outside Leggett, Aire, and Kerrier. A company-sized probe was made against the encircling Musth positions, not necessarily at the weakest points. The Musth, as was their common strategy, withdrew slightly, regrouped, and prepared for a smashing counterattack. As they did, the remaining Force ground-mounted rocketry and artillery opened fire.

It appeared major attacks were being mounted. Wlencing ordered his commanders to reinforce the attacked positions and drive the humans back.

The Musth obeyed, just as the regiments made their second attacks. These were at the best points for exfiltration.

First and Fourth Regiments broke through handily, Second was about half an hour behind. The companies at point swung left, right, holding open the gap in the lines.

Force women and men, taking only what they could carry and reluctantly abandoning all wounded not capable of travel, leaving medics to take care of them, moved through these gaps in small elements, generally no more than squad size.

First Regiment, proud of always being a little better than the others, managed to take some small lifters and Cookes loaded with Fury launchers and missiles.

Wlencing listened to the confused yammerings from his commanders, realized, to considerable astonishment, what was going on, and ordered the gaps closed at all costs. The Force must not be allowed to escape to fight on.

The three battles across Cumbre were total savagery, fought in darkness momentarily illuminated with flaring lasers, flares exploding and then dying out, men and Musth screaming, dying, fighting with grenades, blasters, claws, and clubs.

Then the Force aircraft swarmed again, rising from their hidden fields to slash into the Musth ships darting over the battlefields in confusion, unable to find clear targets.

Again, Wlencing threw his reserves in.

This would be, must be, the final battle.

• • •

One or two Musth observation craft saw the freighter surface off Camp Mahan, but their reports were blanked by a blast of static on all known Musth frequencies. One
aksai
tried to come in for an attack, and one of three lurking Zhukovs blew it out of the air.

The freighter hurtled across the shallowing water, over the first Musth landing position. Behind it were Griersons, guns yammering, missiles firing until the racks emptied.

The freighter slammed down in the rubble of the parade field, skidding sideways, almost rolling. Its ports opened, and Force troops swarmed out of their bunkers and weapons positions and ran toward the ship. None came unburdened — some carried a couple of SSWs, others missiles, still others helped the walking wounded and sick hobble aboard.

A Musth warrior saw opportunity, fired a missile, and it struck the freighter near the stern. Crewmen smothered the flames, and no vital control systems were struck. He tried a second launch, and a 35mm burst from a Zhukov obliterated him.

“Go, let’s go, let’s go,” Angara chanted, standing near one of the gangways, and men and women doubled up them, not quite in panic, but not quite in calm order. Other Force officers were at other locks, positions, cramming the troops aboard.

Then there was no one on the ground, and Angara shouted to button up and lift off.

The freighter pilot and crew obeyed, and the hulk came off the ground, yawing, then drove hard across the bay, lifting over the peninsula, then down again, vanishing into the darkness of Mullion Island.

There was no one left at Camp Leggett.

No one except
Caud
Prakash Rao, seventy-eight volunteers, and the desperately wounded who had been unable to travel.

They grimly waited for the Musth.

• • •

“This is impossible,” Wlencing said, eyes scarlet in fury. “You cannot win a battle by losing it! What are these beings thinking! This is not the way to fight a war!

“Where are they going?”

“We don’t know,” Rahfer said. “None of them seems to have a definite destination. They’re moving in small groups, most of them into the cities their positions were close to.

“We’re trying to land troops, but none of our warriors are familiar with the ground. Even with night-vision the situation is confusing. When we do trap a group of them, sometimes they surrender, sometimes they fight to the end, more often they stop our warriors long enough to make good their escape.”

“What about their aircraft?”

“We are still tracking where they disappeared to,” Rahfer said. “They’re thoroughly dispersed, but we’re finding small landing areas here and there, and attacking them.”

“This is like trying to pick up mercury in your paws,” Wlencing said. “We cannot allow this opportunity to slip from us.”

“Sir,” Daaf said, “calm yourself. Consider — what damage can be done by these stragglers, these fragments? Wars cannot be fought by one or two warriors.”

“No,” Wlencing said. “But Musth can be killed in that way, just as those worm-’Raum killed the Force warriors before you came to us, and make a rule of law very difficult. Now, be silent, and do not further parade your uneducation.”

• • •

At first light, the Musth on Dharma Island moved against the shatter of Camp Mahan. They moved confidently, sure there’d be no more than a handful of humans in the ruins to winkle out.

Their formations closed up as they reached the parade field. Fire from a dozen hidden positions exploded toward them.

They dived for shelter, fought back. But the Force soldiers had rolled to other positions, fired again.

The Musth commanders called for air, and
aksai
rolled in to the attack. A
velv
targeted the biggest pile of rubble, once the main headquarters, and made a straight-in attack, missiles about to launch.

Striker Barken, who’d held a guard formation at gunpoint, slid from cover, pushing a crude Fury mount in front of him. He touched a delayed firing switch, rolled back. The Fury hummed to life, beeped as it acquired the
velv,
and shot toward the Musth warship.

It hit dead on, just below the main canopy, and exploded, wiping out the crew inside. The
velv
went out of control, spinning end for end, then smashing down into the middle of the Musth before it blew up.

In the confusion, Force gunners and snipers took advantage, and killed warriors where they could.

The Musth fell back, regrouped, came on.

They closed with the ruins, and again the fighting was hand-to-hand, and the Force soldiers slowly were forced back, meter by bloody meter, back into their tunnels.

The Musth went after them.

Suddenly, fifteen men and women,
Caud
Rao at their head, broke from a hidden bunker and charged into the main tunnel, shooting as they went.

Most of the Musth went down in the first volley, but the trapped warriors fought back tenaciously.

A wasp-grenade bounced near Rao, and he tried to duck as the device exploded, and horror-insects tore his skull apart.

The fighting raged on, but slowly the shots, explosions, came less and less often.

Then there was silence.

A Musth officer staggered out of a tunnel, ten Musth, all wounded, behind him. He’d gone in with fifty.

He looked around, dazed.

A dozen meters away was the Force’s flagpole, its flag, a lance with shock waves exploding from the tip, hanging defiantly, the slight offshore wind moving it gently.

“Cut that down,” he ordered.

Four of his warriors stumbled to obey.

A grenade came from nowhere, exploding in midair and sending the Musth howling to the ground. As Barken appeared from a crevice in the ruins, the officer whirled, lifted his weapon, but was too late as Barken shot him down.

A moment later, two other Musth blasted Barken as he swung his weapon toward them.

The six surviving aliens stared up at the flag, then turned away numbly, faltering back from the nightmare toward their positions.

“The Force dies … it does not surrender …”

CHAPTER
17

After the cataclysm, Cumbre lay quiet. Relatively so, at any rate.

No one knew what would come next.

The Musth ships continued swooping around the empty battlefields, chasing the remnants of the Force, and they even chanced sending heavily armed patrols into the cities. Sullen humans stared, and the Musth nervously kept their weapons ready.

Occasionally one of the Force stragglers would be discovered, and either shot down or taken prisoner.

A dozen times larger groups of soldiery were found, attacked by the Musth. About half the time they drove the aliens off before they vanished into the jungles.

There were many, many soldiers who’d escaped the tooth-combs of the aliens, but no one knew how many, who or where they were, or their plans.

Leggett civilians nervously looked at the still-smoldering rack of Camp Mahan, while other Cumbrians considered the ruins of battle in their own area. No one with a child, lover, parent, friend in the Force knew whether to mourn or keep worrying — there were no casualty lists available for the last week of the battle.

Sometimes there was sudden joy when a surreptitious midnight tap on a door became the prodigal one, who was feasted and then hidden.

Some had guns to hide, or a friend, others had nothing but shuddering memories and an unwillingness to follow Rao’s final orders.

So far, the Cumbrians had no quislings to worry about, who’d reveal the hidden warriors in their midst.

So far.

• • •

“Now that you’re victorious,” Loy Kouro probed, “what exactly are your plans for Cumbre?”

Kouro, elegant in evening dress, was one of two dozen or so Rentiers who’d responded to the Musth “request” for their company at a “Feasting to Celebrate the Coming of Peace.”

The gathering was in the penthouse dining room of the Bank of Cumbre, a sixty-story spire overlooking Leggett.

Wlencing, wearing harness made from the fur of some black-and-white-striped animal, with only a holstered pistol and grenade box, took a moment to respond:

“The firssst order,” he said, “will be to ssstabilize thisss human sssociety.”

“Of course,” Kouro said. “Without that, we might as well still be at war. I just hope that stability will come easily.”

“Now that isss a matter for you humansss to determine, isss it not?” Rahfer said, hissing in mild amusement.

“Well, I suppose so,” Kouro said. “Are there any specific plans you’d like to tell me about?”

“We ssshall allow the moment to dictate exactly what ssshall be done,” Wlencing said. “The firssst priority will be to bring the minesss on what you named Ccc-Cumbre, which will now be known asss Mabasssi, jussst asss thisss world will be Whar, back to their full work-ability.”

“Of course.”

“We ssshall be hiring workersss here on Whar, and … other sssources of labor will be found.”

“Such as?”

Wlencing gave Kouro a look, didn’t answer.

“Of courssse, we ssshall devote every effort to hunting down thessse banditsss who were onccce sssoldiersss, to prevent the upsssetsss they will bring to you humansss.

“We ssshall continue what we termed our councccilssshipsss, but the buildingsss will be enlarged. Other Musssth will be arriving from our home worldsss to garrissson, or rather, to ssstaff them.

“We ssshall need buildersss to work on thessse enlargementsss. And there ssshall be new conssstruction around our bassse in the Highlandsss, on Sssilitric, and on Mabasssi, to replaccce the headquartersss dessstroyed by the ‘Raum. We ssshall compensssate thossse workersss, of courssse.

“Asss time fulfillsss, we ssshall probably inssstitute other waysss that will improve order, sssuch as central identity cardsss. We are consssidering hiring cccertain of your humansss to asssissst usss, probably giving each of them an area, a block, to be resssponsible for, ssso no disssidency can develop.”

“Are you willing to be quoted on that?”

“Of courssse,” Wlencing hissed exasperatedly. “I sssaid it, did I not? I would not have sssaid it if it were not the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Kouro said. “That’s merely a formality, meaning is it all right if I mention what you told me in a story.”

“It isss all right.” Wlencing’s head snaked back, forth. “I do not sssee your mate. Where isss ssshe?”

“She, well, was feeling very sick, and sends her apology.”

“There were many of thossse,” Rahfer said. “We have noted their namesss, and will remember them.”

Kouro smiled nervously.

“Thank you for your time. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the way we’ll continue to cover the, umm, change of government.”

“I’m
sssure
we will,” Wlencing said. “I foresssee making no changesss in the manner of the human propaganda machine, at leassst for the presssent.”

• • •

On Mullion Island, the Force began regrouping, sending out cautious probes looking for stragglers.

Awards were made and wounds were licked. And there were promotions:

Grig Angara, as per the sealed orders given him by Rao, took command of the Force and was promoted
Caud
;

Jon Hedley became both his executive officer and remained head of II Section;

And, among others, Garvin Jaansma was made
cent
, Njangu Yoshitaro promoted
alt
and Erik Penwyth made
cent.

• • •

The new fad in Leggett, which quickly spread to the other cities on Cumbre, was postering. Any child’s computer could produce a three-dee, high-color item, and run off a few dozen. The real game was to post them close to where the Musth would see them, but not close enough to get caught.

The only problem was, no one spoke Musth, so the posters were all in Prime. But then, a sufficient number of Musth officers could read the human tongue, and the creators put some thought into their message:

Others made equally defamatory (if sometimes wildly inaccurate) claims about Musth biology and habits. But many had the desired effect: The Musth were sufficiently sensitive about their passions if left uncontrolled during the period of heat to explode in rage when they saw such a poster.

At first, they were just torn down. But that didn’t stop anything. The Musth, thinking a building’s occupants should be able to control what was pasted on its walls, started arresting anyone found inside a building so decorated.

The already-f prisons got more crowded.

The poster makers grew more clever, and the posters appeared on the rear of Musth aircraft, their “consulates,” and even, once or twice, hung on the harness of the last Musth in a patrol.

• • •

A strange aircraft was picked up by the radar watch at the Mullion Island base less than two weeks after the fall of Camp Mahan. The aircraft grounded about a kilometer beyond the base before it could be IDed.

I&R, still rebuilding itself from volunteers, went out as the reaction force.

They found a shabby agricultural lifter, anodized a dozen colors and held together with good intentions, in a clearing, with no one around it.

Lir put the patrol on line at the edge of the clearing, motioned the point woman to her.

“You, me, we’ll have a look.”

The point woman, after adjusting a sudden blockage in her throat approximately the size of a battleship, nodded, readied her blaster.

Lir slid out into the clearing, waited for movement, for fire. Nothing came. She crept forward, followed by the point woman. The patrol’s weapons were ready.

She made about five meters, when the shout came:

“Lir! First
Tweg
Lir!”

The voice was human, and somewhat familiar.

She went, very fast, to the lifter, used it for cover.

“Yen,” she shouted back.

“It’s me. Ben Dill.”

“You’re dead.”

“The hell!”

“ ‘Kay. You’re not dead,” Lir called. “One man … you … out. Slow and unarmed.”

Ben stepped into the clearing, very slowly, hands half-raised. He wore the ragged remains of his flight suit cut down into shorts and held up by a length of rope, homemade sandals and a billowing, multicolored top that might have been a fat woman’s skirt twenty years or so earlier.

Lir got up, weapon not pointed much of anywhere in particular.

“ ‘Kay,” she said. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to come home,” Dill said. “I got shot down a month or so ago — ”

“I know,” Lir said. “I was waiting to go to your wake.”

“It’ll have to be postponed,” Dill said. “Got ashore, walked up the coast, got picked up by some fisherwoman, and she took me to her village. I managed to put this piece of shit back into running order, then flew on upcoast until I saw one of our ships haulin’ for home.

“I took a heading, and followed it for a while, then sat down, and waited for another boat to fly past, followed it another way. Couldn’t keep up — that frigging lifter’s got no hum to its bones and no goddamned radio, either, so I couldn’t screech for help.

“Your security blows
giptels.
When I got where I remembered a couple of hills, I did a popup so you people’d get me on screen, but not long enough for some beaver to pull a launch. Then I put it down and waited for company.

“Can I kiss you?”

Lir managed a quick grin.

“Officers don’t fraternize.”

“Then you kiss me. I made it. Oh yeah. There’s one other thing. I got a friend.”

“Have him come out.”

“Do me a favor. Put the blaster on safe and point it somewheres away, ‘kay?” Dill said.

Monique did as requested.

“Alikhan. Come out. Slowly.”

Monique’s finger was on the safety as the Musth came into the open. He, like Ben, held his arms spread wide, visibly empty. She tensed, then relaxed.

“Son of a bitch,” Lir swore. “You got a prisoner.”

“Uh … it’s … he’s … a little bit more than that.”

• • •

Both Alikhan, Dill, and their junk heap were swept with every known pickup before it was agreed they weren’t bugged and probably hadn’t been followed. Still, the base remained at full alert.

The two pilots were taken to Angara and Hedley, and Dill explained what had happened.

“You speak Basic perfectly, Alikhan,” Hedley mused. “Convenient.”

“You think me to be a double agent.” It was not a question.

“That should be a possibility,” Hedley said.

“Don’t you think, sir,” Dill said, “it’s a little preposterous for the commander of the Musth to put his own kid out there? And doesn’t that mean I’d have to be a part of the plot, helping him get shot down?”

“You’re right,” Hedley admitted. “My brain’s fogging.”

“Let me try to understand,” Angara said. “You want this war to be ended.”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“It is not showing honor to any of us.”

“None of your brothers seem to feel that way,” Angara said. “They seem to think what’s happened is some kind of fulfillment of destiny.”

“I suppose some do,” Alikhan said. “Why should they not? Have they ever been offered an alternative, another perspective? I am a rare exception, having chosen, for a time, to study the ways of the Reckoners, of Senza. But most of us accept the beliefs we are given by our elders. Almost all in this system come from warrior clans, so we think only like fighters.”

“Would you be willing to help change their minds,” Hedley asked. “Maybe by doing propaganda coms?”

“I do not think that would be effective,” Alikhan said. “Other than possibly causing my father to die of shame. I would not know what to say, in any event.”

“If you won’t do propaganda,” Angara said, “of course you wouldn’t be willing to fight on our side.”

“Or, for instance, guide a group of our warriors to a target within a compound of yours,” Hedley added.

“No to both ideas,” Alikhan said.

“He’s a warrior, sir, not a friggin’ turncoat,” Dill growled.

Angara gave him a look, was about to say something, decided not to.

“Very well,” the
caud
said. “I do not have any idea on how you could be of use, at least not without conditioning, and I surely don’t have any idea of how to condit a Musth, even if I thought it was ethical.”

Hedley looked at Alikhan consideringly, as if he might be willing to try programming an alien, but didn’t say anything.

“Would you … will you … attempt to escape?” Angara asked.

“Not until Ben Dill releases me from the parole I gave.”

“Very well,” Angara said. “We’ll treat you as an honored guest, although there will be restrictions.
Alt
Dill, I’m going to put you in charge of Alikhan. Stay with him. Some of our people are a little trigger-happy these days.

“I’m sorry I can’t put you back in a ship, Ben,” he finished. “But this is more important, I think.”

Dill came to attention, saluted, and the two pilots went out. Angara shook his head.

“This goddamned war gets screwier every minute. We’ve got a pacifist monster, the only goddamned one who’s ever been taken prisoner, and no goddamned idea on how to use him.”

“Welcome to the asylum, sir,” Hedley said.

• • •

The Highlands around the Musth base was a swarm of human-operated construction equipment. The marshland was being leveled and filled, and landing pads built at regular intervals.

Wlencing watched with some satisfaction. Daaf stood beside him.

“Are you certain we shall get the aircraft replacements to fill these slots?” he asked. “Not to mention their pilots?”

“Of course,” Wlencing said. “Why would our fellows not respond, not want to be involved in this great adventure?”

Daaf thought of the over sixty percent casualties the Musth had endured, but decided not to argue with his war leader. Besides, any objections he had would be wrong — he knew himself to be uneducated.

• • •

Jasith Mellusin stared, shocked, at the screen. On it was Hon Felps, the executive in charge of mining personnel.