War To The Knife (25 page)

“Very well. Let’s go.”

He and his aides arranged themselves in the rear, the General alone in the back seat and Dehgahn and Yazata in facing pull-down seats, while the pilot and bodyguard got into the front compartment. They all strapped themselves into four-point harnesses. The pilot ran through the pre-flight checks and lifted to a low hover over the pad as she activated her microphone.

“Laredo Six Alpha to Trafcon, departing Command for arena, request transponder ID, over.”

“Trafcon to Laredo Six Alpha, authenticate Papa Alpha Golf, over.”

She tapped three keys on her console and peered at the code it threw up in response. “Six Alpha to Trafcon, authenticating Bravo X-ray November, over.”

“Trafcon to Six Alpha, confirmed. Transponder ID now being transmitted to your console. Acknowledge receipt. Over.”

After a brief pause the flight computer beeped, displaying a four-digit code. The pilot entered it into another panel.

“Six Alpha to Trafcon, entered zero-niner-three-one, squawking, over.”

“Trafcon to Six Alpha, ID is correct and your transponder has now been registered. You are cleared to proceed direct to the arena from your present position. Over.”

“Six Alpha to TrafCon, understood, thank you. Laredo Six Alpha out.”

Looking out of her window, Yazata could see the laser cannon nearest to the transport pad on top of the bunker. It had trained around to aim at them as soon as the aircar had lifted into a hover. Now it turned lazily back onto its normal bearing, aiming out over the ruins of what had once been Banka as the aircar pulled away from the bunker, climbing steeply. She relaxed inwardly. Battle systems were supposed to be fail-safe, but what human ingenuity had devised, human ingenuity could also screw up. The Bactrian armed forces had learned that the hard way during their years of hard fighting on Laredo. Technology was all very well as long as it worked. When it didn’t…

Her thoughts were interrupted as the General gestured towards the newly-built Royal Palace. They were passing it well to starboard. “I wonder if the Satrap and Crown Prince slept any better than we did?”

“Considering the huge meal they ate last night, Sir, I venture to doubt it.”

He grinned. “As long as they don’t burp on parade. That’s so terribly un-military!”

Yazata had to stifle a sudden giggle, even as she noticed that Dehgahn, the pilot and the bodyguard coughed and spluttered, the latter putting his hand hastily over his mouth. Clearly they were no strangers to their boss’s sometimes irreverent sense of humor.

Huvishka looked slowly and carefully around the city, as far as he could stretch his neck and twist his body. “Everything looks peaceful. No sign of enemy action during the night?”

“No, Sir,” she responded. “I checked with the operations room just before we left. Everything’s quiet.”

He glanced across at her. “You don’t sound very happy about that.”

“I’m not, Sir. I still think this is an event the rebels have no choice but to attack if they’re to retain any credibility. It’s too quiet for my peace of mind.”

“That’s a nasty suspicious attitude, but I entirely approve of it. Oh, well, we’ve at least done all we can to be ready for any attack.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The pilot changed the channel on the aircar’s radio. “Laredo Six Alpha to Arena, over.”

“Arena to Laredo Six Alpha, go ahead, over.”

“Six Alpha to Arena, approaching VIP parking area bearing from me zero-one-fiver degrees, range from me two point zero clicks, squawking transponder ID zero-niner-three-one, over.”

“Arena to Six Alpha, we have you on our plot. Come ahead. Over.”

“Six Alpha to Arena, thank you, out.”

Yazata couldn’t help but compare the crisp professionalism of the career soldiers surrounding General Huvishka with the slackness of those she’d encountered in many conscript units – even among the black-uniformed minions of the Security Service. She shook her head in dismay.
If I ever get to command a unit,
she thought to herself,
no matter what it may be, I’ve got a new standard for which to strive and against which to compare it.

The pilot brought the aircar slowly down towards the huge paved parking area outside the arena. It was mostly bare of vehicles this morning, but there were a hundred painted symbols evenly spaced across the plascrete where the shuttles would land after the flypast. The VIP entrance to the arena had been roped off, as had a special parking area beside it. A company of heavily armed troops provided security. Several of them doubled towards the spot where the aircar would land, forming a hasty honor guard.

The aircar touched down, rocking gently on its undercarriage, and the pilot cut the fans. As their hum died away the General, Captain Dehgahn and Lieutenant Yazata released their harnesses and climbed out. The bodyguard did likewise, but the General shook his head as he looked at him.

“Sorry, Staff Sergeant. The Satrap’s Head of Security has ordered that no personnel with loaded weapons may be present inside the arena, except his own bodyguards. You’ll have to wait with the pilot for us.”

The man frowned with professional disapproval, but said only “Yes, Sir,” as he got back into the car.

General Huvishka returned the salute of the officer in command of the hastily-formed honor guard. “Good morning, Lieutenant. Is everything as it should be out here?”

“Yes, Sir. Nothing to report. If you’d care for breakfast, Sir, we’ve set up a field kitchen adjacent to the parade control center in the commentary box. There’s still ten minutes before the first parade units arrive.” As he spoke, the pilot drove the aircar away towards the secure parking area next to the entrance.

“Oh, really? Enterprising of someone to think of ferrying a field kitchen all the way up there. It surely didn’t fit into the elevator or up the stairs, though.”

“They flew it up slung beneath an assault shuttle by tractor beams, Sir.”

“Ah. Yes. Logical, really, when you think about it. They couldn’t have done it any other way.” He glanced at the others. “I find myself suddenly hungry. Care to join me?” Their smiles were sufficient answer. “Come along, then. We’ll have something sent down to my pilot and bodyguard.”

~ ~ ~

LAREDO ORBITALS

Tamsin glanced at her console. “We’re at orbital altitude – thirty thousand kilometers.”

“Thank you,” Dave acknowledged. “Isn’t that a bit high for geostationary orbit?”

“It is for a ballistic orbit, but we’re in a powered orbit. So are the spaceships out there, and the space station too, for that matter. If you’re using a gravitic drive to maintain your orbital trajectory, it can be at almost any altitude and any velocity.”

“Makes sense. Are we in line-of-sight with
Benbecula
yet?”

“Yes. We can set up a tight-beam anytime.”

“All right.” He twisted around in his seat. “Marvin, would you come up here and take the spare seat at the WSO’s console, please?”

“Will do.” Marvin unbuckled his harness, rose from his place among the troops in the cargo area, and walked forward, holding his spacesuit’s helmet under one arm. “I was expecting to have to float there, but I see you’ve still got your artificial gravity field operating.”

“Oh, yes,” Tamsin assured him, grinning. “There’s no point in free-fall unless you have to for some reason.”

He slid into the seat next to the WSO. “What now?”

“I’m about to lock a tight-beam onto
Benbecula
. I want you to tell her captain we’re coming.”

“Can do. I’d better tell him it’s me, then transfer him to Dave for further instructions.”

Tamsin raised a tight-beam turret from the roof of the shuttle and trained it on the distant icon that was
Benbecula
in their small plot display. She took extreme care over its alignment to ensure that no spillover from the transmission would be heard by the Bactrian warships nearby. At last she glanced at Dave. “We’re ready.”

“Go for it.”

She pressed a key on her console. A red light flashed, indicating that the tight-beam transmitter was sending a signal to
Benbecula
. Dave knew that broadband receivers on the ship would note its presence and identify it as a tight-beam transmission. The ship’s communications computer would automatically slew a tight-beam dish onto the bearing to receive further input and transmit replies.

In less than a minute the red flashing light changed to a steady green, indicating that the circuit had been established. “Go ahead, Marvin,” Tamsin advised.

“Thank you.” He keyed the handset he’d picked up from the console. As he did so Tamsin pressed a button to relay the conversation through the console speaker.

“This is Fur Trader calling
Benbecula
on tight-beam transmission, over.”

A moment’s pause, then, “This is
Benbecula,
Officer of the Watch speaking. Say again your name, please. Over.”

“Benbecula,
this is Fur Trader. Please advise Captain Grassby that I’m calling. He’s expecting to hear from me. Over.”

“Benbecula
to Fur Trader, stand by.”

They waited almost five minutes before they heard,
“Benbecula
to Fur Trader, Grassby here. Go ahead. Over.”

“Hi, Tom, this is Manuel. How are things with you? Over.”

“Not so hot. We’ve been stuck here in orbit for three days, and they tell us it’ll be three days more before we can leave. They won’t even let you board us until then, so we’re stuck twiddling our thumbs. What are you up to? Over.”

“I’ll be coming aboard a lot sooner than that. In fact, you might want to bring all your systems to readiness for departure real soon now. I’m going to put someone on the circuit to explain more. Stand by.” He looked across at Dave. “Take it.”

“Got it, thanks.” Dave toggled his own microphone. “Captain Grassby, this is Captain David Carson of the Laredo Army. We’re on our way to rendezvous with you, but there’s going to be a lot of shouting and tumult before we reach you. We’ve got to take care of those Bactrian warships, to ensure you can make your getaway without any problems. Remain in your present position relative to the space station. Do not, I say again,
do not
depart from it until we’ve boarded you. That applies even if you’re ordered to do so. Don’t move without my clearance. Any deviation might get you a missile right up your butt, and we wouldn’t want that. Over.”

“B – but this is
preposterous!
Where are you? You’re not on our plot! Over.”

“No, we’re not, and we won’t be until this thing goes down. Don’t bring up your radar to look for us and don’t ask any more questions – I don’t want to risk the Bactrians picking up any leakage from this tight-beam circuit. Just come to readiness for departure, then wait. Nothing’s going to happen for a few hours. You’ll know when we arrive – you won’t be able to miss it. We’ll board you shortly after that, and take it from there. Acknowledge. Over.”

“I… Grassby to Carson, acknowledged. I hope you know what the hell you’re doing! Over.”

“Carson to Grassby, so do I. I’m going to take down this tight-beam circuit now. Carson out.”

He released the microphone switch. “Did that sound like your friend, Marvin – or should I say Manuel?”

Marvin/Manuel smiled. “Yes, that was him. I told you Marvin Ellis wasn’t my real name. I suppose you may as well know who I am now. I’m Manuel Espada.”

“And I’m just the same old lovable Dave I’ve always been.” Tamsin snorted disdainfully, grinning, but made no comment as he looked around at the others. “All right, let’s relax and get some food. Everyone take another stim-tab while you’re at it. It’s been a long night, and the main attraction’s still a few hours away.”

March 31st 2850 GSC, 08:00

DEL MAR PASS

The pilot turned her head and called over her shoulder, “The Pass is right ahead, Sir, and it looks like some of the others are here already.”

Brigadier-General Allred gently shook his wife. “I’ve got to get up, Gloria.” She stirred drowsily from where she leaned against him and lifted her head from his shoulder, blinking for a moment before she nodded and straightened in her seat.

He unfastened his four-point harness, stood and walked to behind the pilot’s console, bending to peer through the viewscreen. The bright morning light showed the towering peaks of the Sierra Madre mountain range looming up ahead, gashed by the sheer walls of the Del Mar Pass as it twisted and turned its way between them. A big white radome gleamed atop the highest summit in the range, and he indicated it with his hand. “Has that thing picked us up?”

“It must have, Sir, but no alarm’s been sounded that we can detect. Our transponder codes are being acknowledged without any fuss.”

Allred exhaled, feeling some of the tension leave his body. “Looks like Lieutenant-Colonel Carson and his people have done their job – the first part of it, anyway. Where are the others?”

“Look at the base of the pass, Sir. There are four shuttles down already, with two more circling to join them.”

The General peered ahead. “They’re just tiny specks to me – I’m not wearing a helmet, so I don’t have distance vision capability.”

“We’ll be there soon enough, Sir.”

Within ten minutes the shuttle seemed to jump slightly in mid-air as the pilot hovered low over a cleared area at the foot of the pass and released the underslung ordnance pod. She left it lying on the ground as she moved the vehicle slightly to one side and lowered its undercarriage. The gel-filled wheels bounced lightly as they settled onto the ground. A crowd of uniformed onlookers turned their backs to protect themselves from flying dust, twigs and gravel, then turned back and advanced towards the new arrivals, grinning. Allred walked down the rear ramp of his shuttle to greet them, followed by the fifteen troops aboard.

“Welcome to sunny Del Mar Pass, Sir,” Lieutenant-Colonel Yardley said cheerfully, saluting. “We’ve got the fire going to boil water for coffee.”

“But our shuttles can provide hot water internally,” the General pointed out as he returned the salute.