Armor (8 page)

Bless our best and adore for he doth bear our measure to the

Cosmos. ‘ “

“Hot damn,” shouted Forest. “That’s it. That’s exactly it.”

“Where did that come from, Felix?” asked Lohman, equally touched. “Is that a prayer?”

“Not precisely. It’s part of a coronation ceremony.”

“Coronation?” repeated Lohman. “You mean like royalty?

Like a King?”

Felix wished he had kept his mouth shut, replied evenly.

“A king in a way. The title is Guardian.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Forest.

“Yeah,” agreed Lohman. “But what’s that part about choosing? You don’t choose royalty. Don’t people just have to okay it, no matter what?”

“No,” said Felix. “They can refuse a potential Guardian before he assumes the title.” He was lost, then, for an instant. In the past. “In his youth,” he continued after a moment, fumbling somewhat.

The other two seemed to sense his unease.

“Sounds interesting,” said Forest.

“Fascinating,” echoed Lohman. “What planet did you say this was from?”

“I didn’t,” replied Felix curtly, deciding, suddenly, to end it.

There was a long pause while the other two exchanged glances. Finally, Lohman broke the silence.

“You’re a strange one, Felix. What are you doing here anyway?”

Felix lifted his helmet and met her gaze as best he could through their two face screens.

“Fighting ants,” he replied evenly.

“And what else,” Lohman wanted to know.

“Fearing ants,” he added.

“Hmm,” said Lohman after a slight hesitation. “Well, I must be off. Nice meeting you, Felix.”

And she was gone. Forest got up then too, mumbling something about some sort of duty.

Felix sat there alone and tried not to think but, of course, could not help it. He thought and he wondered and realized that he couldn’t really conceive of what Forest had meant when she had spoken of Kent. He was totally unable to effectively associate what he was doing with symbols or inspiration or. . . love. For it was a form of love that he had seen in her voice. Perhaps, he thought, it’s because I didn’t start this with any of those things in mind. Or more likely, it’s because none of those things have anything to do with me now. Maybe they never did.

He lay back prone on the sand and gazed up into the artificial twilight caused by the eclipse. In his mind he saw the names of Forest and Kent and Felix and tried to feel some sort of connection between the three of them, some common . . . something. A little while later he gave it up. And a little while after that, he decided that it didn’t matter at all.

“I’m sorry, Felix,” said Forest.

Felix said nothing. Instead he watched the retreating form of the Colonel, ambling up through the gorge past the jostling lines of warriors passing casualties head over head to the top.

It was an awkward exercise. Battle armor was bulky and difficult to get a good grip on, even for similarly suited warriors. Those wounded who were awake helped as best they could, which was little enough. For some positions, though more convenient for the carriers, were quite painful for the cargo. The unconscious were worse, since suits were programmed to spread eagle when a warrior lost consciousness in order to keep the spine erect and avoid complicating possible fractures. This posture with arms and legs outstretched wide, made for a cumbersome package. Passing these people along, already a tricky piece of work, was further complicated by their potential delicacy.

Like dolls, thought Felix, as he watched the hurried loading. Mannequins, or cookies. That was it: cookies. Giant gingerbread men.

The Colonel, he noticed, had stopped on the lower section of the landing. He was busily directing the loading, or attempting to. His blue and white striped arms, symbols of his rank, made exaggerated gestures to punctuate his instructions. No one seemed to be paying any attention to his orders, or even acknowledging his presence. Felix turned away, wearied by the sight.

“I’m sorry, Felix,” repeated Forest. “He shouldn’t have ordered you. He should have waited for you to volunteer.” He looked at her, looked away, said nothing still. Forest persisted. “It’s not that he’s got anything against you personally, Felix.”

“He said that,” Felix answered at last.

“It’s just that you’re a scout, with a scout’s ability to maneuver.”

“He said that,” Felix replied.

“Felix,” said Forest with some emotion, “try to look at it from his point of view. We’ve got all these casualties to worry about, and you’re damned good at this, you’ve got to admit and….’

“He said that, too. He said it all.”

“Oh,” replied Forest hesitantly. “Well, I can see how you must feel about it. He was wrong. He should have waited for you to step forward. He was wrong.”

“No,” said Felix in a tired voice, “he was right. I wouldn’t have volunteered. ‘ ‘ He turned then, and faced her squarely, closely, so that their faces were dimly visible to one another. For several seconds, warrior faced warrior, pragmatist faced fatalist, silently, eloquently.

“Yes,” said Forest at last, averting her eyes as she spoke, “he was right.” She turned away and started up the hill behind the last of the casualty bearers. “Come on. I’ll explain the procedure.” Felix followed.

At the halfway mark of the gorge, a broad, smooth faced chunk of tightly packed sand formed a two tiered landing of sorts. Forest stepped from the gorge onto the first, lower, section and stopped. Six warriors, evidently the actual volunteers, stood in a row, waiting. Felix eyed them curiously.

“This is our station,” Forest began. “I figure they can only get to us in two ways. From the gorge directly, or by using that ledge there. “ She pointed to an outcropping of sand which ran the lower length of the landing. “We’ll try to hold them here first. If we can’t, then we move up there to where they’re loading. We only have one route to defend from there.”

One of the warriors stepped forward. “Why not just start up there?” he asked in a high-pitched tenor.

Forest shrugged. “The CO wants us to try to stop them here, before they even get close to the helpless.”

“Figures,” muttered another, deeper voice

“Okay,” said Forest calmly. “If it gets to be too much, we’ll move in a hurry. Just remember to keep the escape route open. Don’t let anything get behind you.”

“Don’t worry,” said a third voice.

“Maybe we won’t even have to worry about it,” offered the tenor hopefully. “It’s still pretty dark and it looks to me like they’re moving ‘em pretty fast.”

“Hey, yeah,” said someone else. “We might get lucky at that. Look at ‘em up there.”

“No,” said Felix coldly. “Not up. Look down.”

All turned to look in response to his statement. Below, the ants were steaming toward them from the edge of the maze.

“Okay,” said Forest hurriedly. “You three get with Felix over there on the right side. Cover the ledge. And you three stay with me. We’ll take the gorge. Get moving.”

Felix stepped over into position. He stood stone still, and waited. The others in his group were considerably more animated.

“Wish we had our blazers working. ...”

“Lucky it’s still dark. Look how slow they’re moving. ...”

“Fast enough for me. . . .”

“Damn, I haven’t fought ‘em hand-to-hand before. . . .”

“Just club ‘em with your fist. Give ‘em a taste of plassteel….”

“I don’t want to encourage anything. . . .”

There were several nervous giggles in response.

“Shut up,” said the Engine firmly. And all were silent as they waited and watched.

The ants streamed steadily up the gorge, with only one in the lead. Forest, deciding apparently to take a chance, leaped down a few meters and clouted the lead ant on the side of the skull with the toe of her boot. The ant was caught off balance. It literally climbed upward into the blow. The right side of its skull caved in instantly. It slumped, twitching, into the path of the ants behind it.

“Hot damn,” shouted one of the warriors beside Felix.

“See?” said Forest with a quick glance over her shoulder.

“There’s nothing to it. Get ready. Let’s hurt ‘em.”

The warriors beside her took heart in her words and shuffled eagerly forward to help. They pounced on the ants as they appeared. One grabbed hold of a claw while another pounded awkwardly at the skull. That ant fell, and then another fell to Forest’s forearm and then there was too much happening for Felix to continue to watch.

He met the first ant on the ledge with a wide swinging blow with the open palm of his glove against the left eye. The eyeball burst, streaming. Felix finished it off by simply shoving the creature backward off of the ledge with his foot. He grabbed an awkwardly groping claw from the second and dragged the creature forward into a thunderous forearm smash that shattered the thorax. Without waiting for the ant to fall, he turned to the next.

Beside him the other three plunged bravely forward. They slammed at the ants with their much more powerful warrior armor. They punched and kicked and gouged, missing often, sometimes way off balance. But in that limited area, the ants couldn’t reach them en masse and their crude efforts were effective. Noting this, Felix elected to let the heavier, bulkier warriors match the initial brunt of the attack. He skipped back and forth between the three, lending a well timed blow to each individual struggle. The warriors had a tendency to become entangled with the grasping claws and pincers. But before the embrace could become lethal, Felix was able to step in and make the kill.

At first the warriors would verbally acknowledge his aide, but as the height of battle slowly grew, the acknowledgments were limited to grunts and then finally silence.

The battle continued in this manner for several moments. Despite the lack of skill of the other three, Felix found that they were managing to hold their own. The ant bodies were stacking up onto the ledge, making further attacks more difficult. And when the bodies were used as stepping stones to reach them, Felix stepped down onto the ledge itself and heaved a large, twittering stack over the side. That effort brought a rousing cheer from all three of his fellows, a sound that the engine was no more aware of than it had been of the earlier sounds of gratitude.

It got tougher after that. The ants became more numerous, more insistent in their rush. The time to retreat would obviously have to come soon. Still, it would be awhile. And time was what counted. All seemed to be going well.

And then the Hammer fell again.

Felix had managed to notice the transit beacon’s flickering light a second before the concussion. He had thrown himself and one warrior to the ground and shouted for the others to do the same. But in the excitement of the struggle, the other two had merely looked in his direction, not really thinking about what he had said until it was too late.

The landing shook and rocked and skittered off to the side. A great cloud of sand splashed up the slope into the air around them. There were several horrible cries mixed in with the thunderous roar. Felix stood up as soon as the tier stopped shaking beneath him. Through the cloud of dust and sand he saw that Forest still had two warriors with her. He looked quickly around. His other two men were nowhere in sight. “Back up to the others,” shouted Forest. “Get up there.”

“But where are the other two? They were right here“ blurted the one man left from Felix’s group, the tenor.

For answer, Felix hauled him to his feet, and shoved him stumbling toward the upper section of the tier. At the steps, die tenor turned to protest. Felix ignored him, lifting him bodily onto the next step. Forest beside him, was’ similarly hurrying her charges.

“Move it,” she urged in an icy tone. Then, “Oh, shit,” as she turned back around to the edge.

The ants, only momentarily stunned by the blast, were now shuffling five abreast toward them across a recent break in the tier.

“Heads up, Felix,” she said as she met the first ant. Felix slammed a boot through the first ant, effectively stepping right through its severed midsection, and bashing the one beside it with a backhand blow to an eye. He spun around, freeing his foot, and jammed an armored elbow at a thorax. He took a step back, then leaned quickly forward and rammed his shoulder into another. He lifted the ant and flung it away from him into the paths of several others. He took another step back, then another.

The Hammer fell again.

The tier rocked mightily, ants and pieces of ants were catapulted through the air, some ramming him. He fell to the floor of the tier just as it broke loose from the face of the mesa itself. A crack appeared in its face. There was another quick jerk, the sound of more ripping sand, and Felix was flung into the crack.

Forest struck the wall beside him, tumbled sideways by the tilting sand. A half a dozen ants followed.

They grasped at him, scraping loudly against his face screen with their clattering pincers.

He shoved at them, grabbed at exoskeleton and twisted and heard the sound of it splintering. But there were so many and so little room and then he saw Forest was holding on to an ant that had fallen across his face and he took hold of it too and they both pulled and there was a snapping sound and the ant came apart. He struggled to his feet, felt the ground rumble beneath him. He held out a hand to Forest, saw that she was engulfed by claws and skulls. Again he grabbed one end and she grabbed the other and again there was that sound and again and again and then they were suddenly alone in the crack. Both on their feet now. Forest in front, as they tried to clamber out and once again, the Hammer fell. The tier they had vacated tilled wildly, shuddered and finally sheared loose completely, rolling and tumbling down the slope, crushing hundreds of bodies of the thousands of stunned ants that packed the gorge.

Together, they grasped the edge of the upper tier and heaved themselves up onto it. “Goddammit,” shouted Forest breathlessly. She grabbed one of the able-bodied loaders who sat frozen, holding the floor of the tier for dear life. “Move it, goddammit. Move these people.”

The warrior looked up at her, unmoving. Forest cracked her open palm against the side of the trembling helmet. “Don’t you hear me? Get moving. You too,” she added to the other loaders, each of whom had been likewise occupied with panic. “Who’s gonna move these casualties?” she shouted, sweeping an arm toward the more than a hundred who still occupied the tier.