Backshot (23 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Cabbage Patch Agricultural Research Center, Union of Margelan, Atlas

It began to rain just as the four foot-weary travelers topped the slight ridge that overlooked the Cabbage Patch. What they saw made them pause. The main gate was unguarded, towers were down, parts of the perimeter fence were destroyed, and the flames of the fires they had seen from afar were everywhere. Men ran about silhouetted against the burning buildings and nobody seemed in charge. The drenching rain revived al-Rashid and he made to shake Lavager and Lanners off. “I’m all right, I can make it!” he muttered.

Roland, who’d been enjoying the walk immensely, sat on his haunches by Gina’s legs and barked down at the ruined compound.

“Man-oh-man, they did a job on the place,” Lavager whispered. It was evident even from where they stood that Labs One and Two had been heavily damaged. That was bad but not disastrous. From where he was standing, the Cabbage Patch illuminated by the fires now being doused by the rain, Lavager could not make out the unprepossessing building that housed the heart of what they were doing here. Well, they’d know soon enough. He struck a fist into his palm and said, “Friends, let’s get on down there, organize these people, and get after the bastards who did this!” Al-Rashid staggered after him. Gina, with Roland at her side, and Lanners followed.

“Good God,” Lavager muttered after they walked through the open gate, “Hieronymous Bosch couldn’t have painted anything as horrible as this!” Everywhere was chaos. Men and women staggered about with no evident understanding of where they were while others, in uniform, officers and noncoms, shouted orders nobody bothered to obey.

“We were attacked by ghosts!” a soldier shouted as he rushed by. His face was covered in blood from a head wound.

Lanners stopped the man. “Where is your commander?” he demanded.

“Dead! All dead!” the man screamed, pulling himself away and running into one of the burning buildings. Lanners made to go after him but Lavager shook his head. “Over there.” He pointed to a figure smoking a cigarette. “Who’s your officer?” Lavager asked, walking up to the man.

“Major Principale, but he’s dead,” the soldier answered. By the insignia on his collar the man held the rank of sergeant.

“Can you tell me what happened here?”

“We were attacked. I never saw them. It was dark, they were camouflaged, they moved too quickly, I don’t know who they were, but they kicked our asses good. Then they piled into a lorry and drove off to the southwest. I saw the lorry go.”

Lavager turned to his companions. “Dammit,” he slapped his forehead, “that wasn’t farmers we saw in that truck! And I’ll bet they didn’t head southwest for long. Damn! Well, who’s in charge here, then?”

The man looked disdainfully at the bedraggled figure in front of him and answered sharply, “Nobody is. And just who the hell are you?” He took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke in Lavager’s face.

“He’s President Lavager!” Lanners said in an ominous tone.

“Awww—” The sergeant smirked and shook his head, but he leaned forward and looked closely at Lavager in the dim light. Suddenly it seemed an electric shock went through him. He tossed his cigarette away and came to attention. “Sergeant Drew Corfram, sir! Sorry ’bout that! It’s been, um, a rather difficult day.”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Sergeant. Now, let’s get organized here. Get some men,” he turned to Lanners, “you help him with that, Lee. Franklin, Gina, I want you two to go inside the portico of that building over there and sit tight until I come back for you. Sergeant, you are now—you said your name is Corram?”

“Corfram, sir.”

“Sergeant Corfram, excuse me, you are now the ranking officer in this compound, until I can find someone to replace you. You’re operating under my personal orders. Lee here will back you up. Get as many unwounded men together as you can find. You had to have medics with the security battalion. Find them, and if they haven’t started one, have them get a triage going for the wounded. See what you can do to establish communications with army headquarters back in New Granum. Don’t worry about security. The people who did this are long gone. Set up your command post at that bunker over there. Now, have you seen any of the civilian staff? Dr. Jullundur in particular? You know who he is, don’t you?”

“Yessir. Short brown guy, little sprouts of hair on his head, thick glasses, talks with an accent. Nossir, haven’t seen him. The civilians all must have gone into hiding when the attack began.”

“Very good, then. I’ll be with you in a minute.” With that he walked rapidly off. Corfram looked at Lanners and shrugged. “You heard the man.” In only the few seconds he had been in Lavager’s presence the sergeant had gone from being a defeated and demoralized non-ranker to a sergeant again.

Lavager approached the nondescript building in the compound’s southwest corner cautiously. It appeared undamaged and that made his breathing a bit easier. He punched in the access code and the door swung open. Inside, the emergency lighting system cast a dim red glow over everything. The equipment resembled nothing more menacing than a large distillery. That’s what it was, but not for whiskey. Lavager breathed a sigh of relief. If the raiders had examined the contents of Labs One and Two they might have gathered some idea of what was really going on at the Patch, but it was this building, the “refinery,” that held the true secret of what Lavager’s scientists were doing at the Cabbage Patch. The sweet earthy smell of fertilizer permeated the building.

“Ambala?” Lavager shouted. His voice echoed metallically off the walls. He walked carefully down the rows of gleaming retorts, his pistol drawn. “Ambala! Come out, goddamnit, if you’re here!” He grinned wryly and thought to himself, What a stupid thing to say, if he’s not here why am I shouting?

At the near end of the buildings was a suite of offices and changing rooms. Lavager was headed toward them when one of the doors banged open and a short figure in a white lab coat appeared.

“Ambala?” Lavager raised the pistol.

“Is that you, Mr. President? I thought I recognized that distinctive voice of yours!” The red light reflected off the figure’s glasses as he smiled broadly in relief.

“Ambala, are you all right?” Lavager holstered the pistol and gripped the man’s outstretched hand.

“Fine, sir, we’re all fine. We took refuge in here at the first sign of alarm.” Ambala—Dr. Ambala Jullundur, the scientist in charge of the secret research project at the Cabbage Patch—wiped perspiration from his forehead. “There was terrible shooting and many explosions—” Several other scientists and technicians emerged from the office rooms and all began talking at once.

“Quiet! Quiet! Now listen. We’ve been attacked. The raiders nearly killed me in an ambush kilometers away, and they’ve caused a lot of damage and casualties here. But you are all right and everything is fine in here.” He turned to Dr. Jullundur. “So that means, Ambala, we’re still in business, right?”

“Yes, Mr. President, we are. The damage to the other buildings may cause some delay, but there has been no harm to us or to our equipment. Mr. President, who did this to us?”

“I have a pretty good idea, Doctor, and I’m going to do to them as they have done to us. Now, you people stay put in here. As soon as I’ve gotten things stabilized and organized outside, I’ll send someone for you.” Lavager took Dr. Jullundur’s hand again and shook it. “Stay calm, I’ll be seeing you soon.”

Sergeant Corfram had done a good job getting things organized. “They took one of our lorries, sir, a Brimmer cross-country LX6. Ident number CHO1939.” He gave Lavager a handheld communicator. “I have General Ollius at army HQ, sir.”

“Good work! You are now Lieutenant Corfram. General?”

“Yessir,” Ollius replied. “What is going on out there? I’ve heard—”

“Never mind what you’ve heard. Now, I want you to do some things and do them quickly. You know that strategic intelligence platoon that works for your G2? I think a Lieutenant Svetlanacek commands it?

Get them out here at once. Next, I want Gyrfalcons in the air to the southwest of the Cabbage Patch, I repeat, southwest of here. They are to look for a Brimmer cross-country LX6, license CHO1939. It’s carrying a lot of men, how many, I don’t know, but they are to take it out. Got that? Take it out. If there’s more than one lorry out there that fits the description, and the pilots are not sure if it’s the one, take it out too, take them all out. I don’t care if one of them is full of missionaries going to a prayer meeting, get every damned lorry the pilots can spot. Next, send me a motorized infantry battalion, General, men who can move and shoot. What’s left of the security battalion here is not up to pursuing anyone. Copy so far?”

“Yessir.”

“Wake up your war plans people. Have them waiting for me. Call my cabinet into session at once. They can wait for me too. You are now Army Chief of Staff with the rank of full general effective from this very minute. Cut the necessary orders. I’ll sign them when I get back.”

“But General Ollwel—?”

“He’s
hors de combat
. Forget him. Finally, get a hopper out here ten minutes ago. Have all that stuff cooking by the time I get back to the city. Out.” He handed the communicator back to Corfram.

“Lieutenant, you heard what I told the General. I lost some good men here today and I need replacements. You’re one of them. Come with me.” They spent the next few minutes rallying the survivors, organizing damage-assessment teams, and teams to search for dead and wounded. “Give me a full report on the situation out here before the end of the day. When the infantry and recon units get here, work with them to organize a pursuit of the raiders. The infantry battalion commander will have tactical control of the operation, but you, Lieutenant, represent me personally and will report to me on everything. One final thing I have to do. You carry on.”

Lavager returned to the portico where he found Gina and Roland sitting. Al-Rashid had already been taken to the makeshift aid station. “His wounds are not life-threatening,” Gina informed Lavager. Lavager sat down next to her and petted Roland. The sun was just coming up. “What are you going to do now, Gina?”

Gina shrugged. “Go home, sir. Take care of my—” She bit her lip and hung her head, but did not cry. Lavager put his arm around the girl. “No. You’re coming to the city with me, Gina. I’ll have people take care of your family. I’ll arrange everything. Do you have any other relatives or close friends you’d like to have with you now?” Gina named several people and Lavager nodded. “I’ll see they’re notified and brought to New Granum. I’m going to have you put up in town for a few days, Gina. Ever hear of the DeLuxe Inn? It’s a five-star hotel—” He paused as a thought struck him. No, this young lady should not be left alone in a luxury hotel after what had just happened to her. “Do you know my daughter, Candace? She’s just about your age.”

“Yessir.” Gina’s face brightened. “I’ve seen her in the trid news, with you. She’s really feck!” “Feck” was a term the Margelan teens used among themselves to describe something wonderful and “in.”

Lavager had often heard Candace use it. Lavager had often thought if something were feck it’d naturally be the opposite of “feckless,” so the word made some sense to him, but as with most teenage slang, nobody was sure just where it had come from.

“Well, if you agree, I’ll take you back to my house and you and Roland here can stay with Candace for a while, until we get everything straightened out. Candace will like you—and Roland. What do you say?”

“Oh, yessir, I would like that! Thank you, thank you!” She put her arms around Lavager’s neck.

“Look, Gina, the sun’s coming up.” As he spoke, the rim of the sun poked above the trees just beyond the ruined perimeter fence, casting its rays through the haze of smoke upon the ruins of the Cabbage Patch. The sight was not the most inspiring Lavager had ever seen. He shrugged. “I’ve always liked the dawn, even here. It’s another day we’re above ground.” He searched inside his vest and fished out an Anniversario, which he lighted.

“That smells good,” Gina whispered, her head against Lavager’s shoulder.
How much she reminds me of Candace,
Lavager thought. He smoked in silence for a while. They didn’t need him just then; he could rest for a spell. How nice it would be to just rest, not worry about politics, war, government, anything. He thought of Ollwelen and his heart raced in anger. After all their years together Ollwelen turned traitor on him. Well, time enough to deal with that. “When this is over,” he said softly to himself, “and I’ve got everybody on my side and everything is straightened out, Candace and I will take a long, long vacation, maybe just not come back to New Granum at all.”

From far away came the sound of approaching aircraft. Good. General Ollius was on the ball. Gina had gone to sleep beside Lavager. He smiled. “Come on, Roland, old fella, let’s get your mistress back to town. And then I’m going to deal with some people like they’ve never been dealt with before.”

In the Air, East of the Cabbage Patch

“Hometown, this is Gamma Lead. Over.”

Gamma Lead’s radio crackled, then a voice said, “Gamma Lead, Hometown. Go.”

“Hometown, does Racer have a unit at—” Gamma Lead rattled off map coordinates.

“Wait one, Gamma,” Hometown said and went off the air, but not for long. “Gamma Lead, that’s a negative. What do you have?”

“Stand by to receive visual, Hometown.” Gamma Lead pressed a series of buttons that transmitted images of the scene he was orbiting at six thousand meters.