War To The Knife (26 page)

“Well, Sir, if this is to be our swan song, I’d like to smell burning sangar wood for the last time.”

“I can’t argue with you. It’s a lovely smell, and it seems to make coffee taste better too. How are you feeling?”

“I’m glad I’m flying to my last battle rather than having to walk. The Bactrians took all the starch out of my legs – I wouldn’t make it more than a couple of kilometers on foot.”

“Make sure you get back to the shuttle to make your escape, or borrow another vehicle from the enemy.” He looked around at the eight hulking shuttles now settled on the ground. “Just two more to come.”

“Yes. The four shuttles from Caristo – two newly captured plus our two old ones that they refueled and rearmed – got here first. We arrived from Benito a little while later, a few minutes ahead of you. There’s just the two from Ligarda still to come; and if that rumble in the distance is anything to go by, they aren’t far out.”

“Reaction thrusters are noisy things, aren’t they?”

Yardley shrugged. “Atmosphere’s too thick low down to use gravitic drives, so we don’t have much choice. I pity those poor bastards on parade in the arena this morning. Having eighty shuttles flying low and slow overhead – ninety including us – will be enough to deafen them.”

“We’ll just have to make sure they don’t suffer for long.” They grinned at each other.

They were drinking fire-percolated coffee and eating breakfast by the time the last two shuttles touched down. Bantered greetings flew between the shuttle crews as the new arrivals hastened to fill their cups. The tension in the air was something palpable, but different to what he’d felt before other operations, the General realized. It was still the same pre-combat nerves, but now overlaid with a sense of resignation, an awareness of mortality, a determination to make this one count. As he walked to where an NCO was taping a chart to the side of his shuttle, soldiers on all sides called greetings, offered gentle jibes, raised their mugs of coffee in informal salutes. His heart swelled, aching with pride in these men and women who had served so long and so faithfully.

The troops gathered around as he turned to face them. “The late garrison at Calinda was kind enough to leave this chart on the wall of their briefing room. It confirms all we learned from the Security Service Colonel that Captain Carson shot in the Matopo Hills, and provides some useful last-minute updates. For example, the altitude of the fly-past has been increased from two to three hundred meters, presumably because of the immense noise made by so many shuttles traveling so close together and so slowly. That couldn’t be better as far as we’re concerned. It makes the enemy’s shuttles better targets for the missiles we’re going to launch at them.

“We’ve been monitoring Bactrian frequencies ever since we took off. No-one’s raised the alarm and there’s no sign that the enemy knows anything’s wrong. Niven’s Regiment has clearly succeeded in penetrating the old Traffic Control building and inserting our transponder codes into the computer system. It won’t show us on any TrafCon displays – we’re effectively imitating holes in the air as far as they’re concerned. Even better, the special transponder codes Trafcon is issuing to Bactrian forces for the Satrap’s visit all begin with zero-eight or zero-nine. Pilots and Weapons Systems Operators, update your targeting systems accordingly. When the balloon goes up, if you identify any airborne vehicle using those transponder codes, kill it!” His audience grinned, making rude remarks about the fate of any enemy personnel aboard.

“I remind you that the Bactrians have placed all missiles and plasma cannon in the security zone under the control of TrafCon for this parade. Therefore, we’re going to hang back and let Lieutenant-Colonel Carson’s people do their thing. After they’ve thoroughly disrupted proceedings, we’ll overfly the arena and the grounds in our prearranged formation. It’s spaced so as to cover everything with a mix of fragmentation bombs, to kill as many as possible of the five thousand troops on parade, plus sensor fused munitions to destroy as many vehicles as possible, including any surviving shuttles, weapons systems and ground transport.” There were more approving noises from the assembled troops.

Allred waited for silence. “Once we’ve overflown the arena, we’ll split up. Assault Force Arena will follow me down, using our plasma cannon to clear our path, then we’ll dismount and go after the Satrap if he’s managed to escape the initial strike. We want to make absolutely sure he and his son are dead. Assault Force Banka’s shuttles will drop their troops at the prearranged rendezvous points, then assist them with their missiles and plasma cannon. Watch for Bactrian forces to begin leaving your targets for the arena, trying to rescue the Satrap. Delay them as long as you can.”

He looked around. “Getting away afterwards will be very tricky. Those of us who can board shuttles will make our escape in them, but we don’t know how many will be available. Some will be able to commandeer vehicles and make a run for it. Others will have to hide from enemy reinforcements as they rush to the sites we attack, then try to get away once they’ve passed. We know many of us won’t make it. I can only say to you that the greatest privilege of my life has been to command men and women like you over the past three and a half years. You’ve done your planet and your people proud. If this is the last day of my life, I couldn’t ask for better company with whom to cross the river.”

A ramrod-straight, iron-haired Sergeant-Major called, “General, Sir, there’s one unexpected advantage to this possibly being our last mission.”

“Oh? What’s that, Sergeant-Major O’Connor?”

“I won’t have to eat any more of these bloody Bactrian ration packs!” There was a roar of laughter and a spatter of applause.

Shoulders shaking, Allred looked at his watch. “All right, people. Mount up, strap in and get ready. We lift at nine for the last leg.”

~ ~ ~

TAPURIA: OLD TRAFFIC CONTROL CENTER

Jake eased his way into the crowded branch tunnel leading to the main service tunnel. Two technicians and four of his troops were completing their tasks. He watched from behind them as two soldiers ran a ring-main between the multiple loops of detonating cord wrapped around the bundle of cables running from the computer center out towards the service tunnel. As soon as they’d finished they moved back towards Jake, running out a wire from the detonators behind them. He backed into the basement to make room for them. They eased past him, then waited for two more soldiers to join them. They’d passed multiple loops of det-cord around every conduit, pipe and cable run in the main service tunnel, whether or not they knew their purpose. When the loops blew they’d take two-meter bites out of everything. Anything dependent on those wires and cables for data or power would shut down at once.

The other two made their way along the branch tunnel to the basement, unreeling their own wire behind them. They bent over the wires from both sets of detonators, splicing the ends together before connecting them to the terminals of a firing handle. Straightening, they double-checked that the safety lock was engaged, then set the handle on a table. The senior among them turned to Jake. “The cord’s got enough slack to carry it out into the corridor behind, us, Sir,” he said. “Just close the door behind you, get clear of the dividing wall, disengage the lock and press the plunger. You’ll cut every circuit in the tunnel.”

“That’s exactly what I’ll do in a little while,” he promised. “Well done, all of you.”

As they worked, the two techs had been busy with their own tasks in the service tunnel. Now they too came down the branch tunnel and into the basement. Both wore electronic consoles strapped to their chest. They straightened as they entered the room, and came to attention as they saw Jake waiting.

“Everything’s ready, Sir,” one reported. “We’ve placed ten of the new assault nanobugs on either side of the explosion zone in five sets of two, each pair set five meters further down the service tunnel from the next. They’ll interdict this branch tunnel from either side. Anyone trying to get in here through the tunnels will find thirty poison darts waiting to meet him no matter which side he comes from. The bugs are on timers. They’ll activate five minutes after the bang.”

“And they’re far enough away from the explosions that they won’t be damaged by them?”

The tech adopted an expression of injured innocence. “Would I make an elementary mistake like that, Sir?”

Jake had to smile. “Sorry if I hurt your feelings. It’s my job to check and double-check these things.”

“I guess it is, Sir. Don’t worry. I haven’t screwed up that badly since the last time.”

“And when, precisely, was the last time?”

“Last week, I think, Sir,” he retorted with a cheeky grin.

“Oh,
great!
I feel
so
much more confident now!” Everyone in the basement chuckled softly.

The other tech said thoughtfully, “I suppose it’s too late to point out that once those bugs activate, not only will no-one be able to get in here through the tunnels, but we won’t be able to get out through them either?”

Jake heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid that’s unavoidable. The enemy also has identification modules, so if we programmed the bugs to let people through if they’re wearing one, we’d leave ourselves vulnerable to being taken from behind. The only way to guard against that is to disable the bugs’ identification program so they’ll shoot at anything moving, no matter who or what it may be.”

The man shrugged. “Oh, well. It’s not like I had anyplace else to go.” Another quiet rustle of amusement ran around the room.

“Don’t worry,” Jake assured him. “Those of us who try to escape through other tunnels won’t be close enough to the bugs to activate them.”

“Can we tell whether the shuttles are on time, Sir?” another asked.

“I’m afraid not. We could have the traffic control computer display their transponder codes instead of ignoring them; but anything we display on the backup console here will also show up in TrafCon, where the Bactrians can see it. We have to take it on trust that our comrades captured the eight shuttles they were after, and refueled and rearmed our two existing birds at Caristo. All being well…” – he consulted his watch – “they’ll be leaving Del Mar pass shortly.”

“And your son in orbit, Sir?”

“They’ll be setting up to dock with the space station in about an hour from now. With any luck the station won’t see them coming until they’re aboard. They’re scheduled to hit Orbital Control at precisely the same moment that our attack begins at the arena and we blow the connection to TrafCon. After that they’ll have to deal with the ships nearby.”

“There’s no way we can know whether they’re doing OK up there, is there?”

“No. The same objection applies. Any information we call up down here will also be visible to the enemy. We have to run this operation according to a strict time schedule, and trust that everyone’s adhered to it. If anyone’s late or out of position, it’s going to be their problem.”

March 31st 2850 GSC, 09:40

SPACE STATION

Dave felt as if his heart would hammer its way right up his throat and out of his mouth. He watched dry-mouthed as Tamsin cut the gravitic drive so as not to cause interference with the space station’s much larger drive. She switched to reaction thrusters and eased the shuttle closer to the gaping maw of the station’s docking bay. Her eyes scanned her console, trying to spot any indication that the Bactrians had detected her.

“It seems to be working,” she said in a half-whisper. “Stealth technology doesn’t make us invisible to radar – only harder to spot – and we’ve been close enough for the past half-hour that they can’t possibly have missed us with the honking great radar on this station. That means the program Jake put in planetside must have kept our transponder beacon from showing on OrbCon’s displays. Even though their radar must have picked us up, they still don’t know we’re here.”

“Let’s keep it that way as long as we can, OK?”

“You can say that again!” she assured him as she conned the all-black craft out of the glare of sunlight, unimpeded by atmosphere, into the shadows of the docking bay. Twenty airlock stations confronted them, most empty. Three were filled by cutters and two by cargo shuttles, standard space station commuter craft. Fifteen bays were empty.

Tamsin half-turned towards Mac, who was sitting at the WSO station. “Which airlock, Mac?”

“That one.” He pointed. “It’s farthest away from the Docking Bay vestibule reception desk. If anyone’s on duty there, they’re least likely to notice us arriving at that gate.”

“We’ll take them out first thing if they’re there,” Dave promised. “Have you deactivated the alarm that announces something’s engaging the docking mechanism?”

“It’s already done. We should arrive silently, unless Tamsin has a rush of blood to the head and rams the damn thing.” Soft, tense laughter came from the soldiers seated on either side of the cargo area behind them.

“I’m leaving it up to the automatic docking program,” she assured him. “I haven’t docked in space in over three years. After that long out of practice, if I tried to do it by eye I’m sure I’d hit something.”

“Let’s not,” he suggested with a grin.

“If we do, blame the flight computer on this bird or the docking software, not me!”

As the shuttle edged closer to the airlock, the tractor and pressor beams of the space station’s docking system engaged it and turned it one hundred and eighty degrees, facing outward into space, then pulled it backwards to meet the docking arms that slid out to receive it. They mated to receptacles in the sides of the shuttle, then tugged it gently towards a trunk that extended from the station towards it. The edges of the trunk slotted over flanges on the outer frame of the shuttle’s rear ramp, then inflated to seal it tightly. A red light above the ramp came on, changed to orange as the air pressure in the trunk equalized with that on the station, then flickered to green.

“We’re in,” Tamsin whispered.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Idiot!
It’s because I’m tense!” More soft laughter came from the others.