Stranger, page 9
“The longer we’re here, the greater the risk is the Fed will bring up a larger force. In the meantime, we’re moving into the old town, Perrysburg, to get out of this weather.” She referred to the abandoned part of the community separate from the foundry. “We’ll attack in the morning.” She glanced around. “Comments?” The discussion quickly focused on the logistics of the move to Perrysburg and the tactics for the morning’s attack. After the meeting, they struck camp.
Overnight, a cold front arrived and cleared the air. Under a brilliant blue sky, a northern breeze rippled the long, green prairie grass. Even the larks seemed to welcome the change in weather, singing a cheerful symphony as they soared ever higher.
After breakfast, as the Clan forces assembled on the west side of the Fed settlement, out of range of bow and gun, Chris examined the main entrance. As she sat on the horse, she overheard several soldiers talking.
“Man, what a nice day. It’s just perfect for a battle—cool, dry, and lots of good light,” Sam Heimlich said to a grizzled warrior named Mitch Doaks as they approached the west side of the Fed settlement.
“There ain’t no such thing as a good day for battle.” Doaks spat on the ground and squinted at Heimlich. “When you die, the weather don’t mean shit. If the ground’s mud or dust, it’s all the same. When your number’s up, you won’t care if the sun is shining or not.” The corners of his mouth turned down and a frown knitted his brow.
“Doaks, knock off the chatter,” Chris said. There was more truth in Doaks’s remarks than she cared to hear. “And you, Heimlich, you should know better than to say things like that.” Chris discouraged talk of glory. She’d been in battles since the Clan had formed. Too many. Dying on a battlefield was never glorious.
She turned on her horse and beckoned the youngest and least experienced platoon leader. “Peterson. Take your platoon to the east entrance of the Fed settlement. Set up a screen to catch anyone leaving. Have your fastest rider ready to let me know if they try to leave. If they do, slow them down, and we’ll take care of them when they get into the open. All right, move it.”
After lining up the horse-mounted soldiers, Chris ordered platoon “A” to charge at the front entrance of the Perrysburg settlement.
The gate withstood their charge and the Fed guards’ guns ripped through the Clan Horse Soldiers, leaving a half dozen dead.
“I knew this wasn’t going to be easy,” Chris said to no one in particular. “I hate fortifications.” She watched the horsemen reform and wait for her next order. “All dismount except the patrols. Platoons “B” and “C” forward on foot. We need to find their strong points. We need to pound the crap out of them for a while.”
Damn, she thought. It’s going to turn into a siege. She knew her Horse Soldiers’ fighting skills held no advantage against fixed defenses.
Clan soldiers probed the settlement’s walls. Before long, they identified all of the strong points. Out of range and from behind makeshift barricades, Chris ordered the Clan catapults to lob black powder bombs at the towers and strong points on both sides of the west entrance of the Fed fort. She watched as the bombs split the main gate, loosening its hinges.
It’s time to try again. Chris sent the Horse Soldiers forward on foot. They advanced in leapfrog fashion until they were within bow shot range. Popping up, one at a time, the clan soldiers picked off defenders as the catapults continued to throw bombs. Gunfire from the Feds’ defenses slowly became less and less. The main gate sagged on its hinges.
“Sir, the gate’s almost down.” A guard interrupted Billy while he worked on the furnace. “What should we do, sir?”
Billy did not look up from his work. The furnace, the transformer, and the switch-gear were almost completely disconnected and ready to go. He transmitted a message. “Mata ChaLik, bring the Bird-that-Soars here, immediately.”
“I cannot come,” Mata ChaLik said. “I’m delivering supplies to the evacuation base. I will not arrive before the middle of the night.”
“I hope that is soon enough,” Billy said.
Chapter Eighteen
Billy shivered even though he wore thick, synthetic armor fabric. It was late afternoon and the cool, dry air blowing in from northern Canada had grown colder. The gate at the west entrance was almost destroyed, along with many of the guards’ defensive positions. He knew the deep ditch and embankment would stop a direct cavalry assault.
So, he thought, the attack must come through the gate. “Captain Kerr, fill carts with scrap iron and put them behind the gate to block the entrance.”
“If they attack through the west entrance, it’ll be Horse Soldiers supported by archers on foot,” Kerr said. “Maybe we should run some of that unused power cable across. It would break up their charge.”
Billy nodded. “Do it.” After Kerr left, Billy took out the hand projectile gun he’d brought down from the ship. It would be the first time he’d used it since training. It fired small, high velocity pellets propelled by hydrogen-oxygen explosions. The weapon had a small, high-capacity battery that rapidly dissociated water into hydrogen and oxygen, which cycled the gases into the propulsion chamber under high pressure. When fully loaded, the handgun had sixty-four spherical metal pellets with an effective range up to thirty feet.
It is time. I must join this fight, Billy thought.
He visited the Fed guards huddled behind the metal-filled carts and piled up debris behind the main entrance. He went from one defense position to another and gave the guards advice. Even though he moved quickly, an arrow hit him and bounced off.
The Fed guards who saw Billy take the arrow gave a weak cheer.
“Always keep at least half your guns loaded. Only shoot when another gun is reloaded.” Billy repeated the same advice at each defense post. “Have loaded guns ready at all times. If they charge, you will need all of them.”
The guards took his words as an order. Their rate of fire slowed as they increased their stock of loaded guns.
“The Feds aren’t firing as often,” Chris said. “I think they’re losing heart. It’s time to show them what we can do. Shig. Get Squads “A” and “B” mounted,” she said.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Shig, lead the charge.”
“Mount up.” Shig raised his voice to his squad.
The platoons of “B” squad joined his and they dressed their ranks. Shig reviewed their formations. It was by the book, in tight lines, the rows orderly. “Ready? Forward.” They trotted out in tight formation.
As his horse moved under him, Shig felt a tremendous surge of excitement. This is how victories are won. What tales I’ll have to tell. He felt invincible; he knew he was destined for greatness. My children—even my grandchildren will ask about this great victory.
“Charge,” Shig yelled and cracked his crop on the horse’s flank. The sound of the horses’ hooves pounding on the ground grew into thunderous pounding. He felt like part of an avalanche, unstoppable, about to roll over everything in its path.
“Clan, Clan,” the Horse Soldiers screamed and lashed their horses to even greater speed. It was now a race, a contest to be the first into the Feds’ settlement. Volley after volley of arrows flew over their heads. Our archers are keeping them from firing, Shig thought. They drew close to the gate. Nothing can stop us now.
Shig saw a cable stretched across the shattered gate opening between the ruined towers rise and become taut. Beyond was a barrier of carts. He slowed his horse and prepared to jump the cable. As the first rank jumped over the cable, they slowed. Several horses failed to clear the cable. The rest accelerated toward the line of carts. Oh, shit, Shig thought. It’s going to be a mess.
Shig heard a voice yell, “Fire.”
A horizontal sheet of flame and smoke erupted from the barrier.
That’s a lot of gunfire.… It was Shig’s last thought as a large caliber lead ball smashed through his chest, lifting him out of his saddle. He slumped forward and as the horse halted, he slid down the horse’s withers and died.
Men and horses collapsed into screaming heaps. The front rank of the charging Horse Soldiers stumbled to the ground.
The second rank of the Horse Soldiers halted before the shattered gate, behind the mass of bodies and screaming horses, unable to advance. The Warriors stood in their stirrups and fired their bows at the rate of one arrow every ten seconds. Desperation drove their efforts. At close range, the long arrows from their recurve bows proved deadly. The sleeting storm of arrows overwhelmed the muzzle-loading rifles of the Fed guards. The guards began to retreat from the hail of arrows.
Billy took out his handgun and stood up, took a deep breath, and pointed it. As fast as he could pull the trigger, pellets struck Clan Horse Soldiers with deadly accuracy. One after another, they fell. He continued to fire.
Kerr arrived at a trot with a group of reserve guards, moved into position behind the carts, and lined up. On his signal, they fired a rolling volley from less than fifty feet at the Horse Soldiers confined in the narrow entrance and between the gate’s towers.
As the thunderous echo faded, a new chorus of men and horses began screaming anew. Courage was no longer enough.
Riderless horses reared, panicked, and thrashed about with steel-shod hooves, pulping the flesh of man and beast. Blood frothed pinkly. The mass of panicked man and beast dissolved into chaos.
The remaining Horse Soldiers retreated.
Billy noticed the attacking force had committed only a small group to the charge; at least two-thirds of the Clan Force remained. He estimated there were over forty clan soldiers down. Thirty-two Fed guards had been killed in the attack and many more wounded. We have less than one hundred effective Fed guards left, he thought. We’re outnumbered.
“Bilik Pudjata,” Mata ChaLik called over the comm-net. “It is taking longer than planned to unload the Bird-that-Soars. Everything has to be moved by hand—things are different here than on Qu’uda. We cannot arrive for at least another one-third of a planetary rotation.”
Bilik silently noted he had tried to convey that point earlier to those on the Egg-that-Flies. Sometimes, he thought. You have to experience Earth to understand it.
Bombs from the Clan catapults once again began to fall onto the settlement, starting fires, which spread rapidly, sparing none of the dwellings. The sheet-metal-covered iron foundry was the only building not hit, into which people started to crowd. Even though the pace of the bombardment eased, bombs fell through the afternoon.
As night descended, the rain of explosive projectiles stopped. The breeze out of the northwest freshened, becoming colder. Flames flickered in wrecked and burned-out buildings. Drifting smoke made the area around the foundry a dark and hazy hell of shouting voices and screams of pain.
Billy mobilized teams of civilians to put out fires, rebuild defenses, and to dig a ditch in front of the gates. He treated the wounded, but without medical supplies, he knew only the lightly injured would survive.
His tactics biocomputer warned him of the danger of a night attack. It advised him to use rocket flares to discourage them. He knew the Feds had no flares. He sought a substitute in his archives. One alternative was a balloon that carried a flare.
Billy found the needed components in the foundry’s laboratory.
“You, yes, you, come here,” he said to a startled guard. “Take this metal strip and straighten it out. No, stretch it, that’s right, more, more. I need it straight.”
“Like this?” The guard asked as he pulled the magnesium ribbon over the barrel of his gun to remove its curl.
“Yes.” Billy took fifty feet of straightened metal ribbon outside. He vented hydrogen from his handgun into a large plastic bag. When full, he sealed the balloon and added a small plastic bag with just enough ballast so that the balloon had a slight positive buoyancy. He tied the magnesium ribbon to the bottom of the balloon and slowly played it out. The balloon rose slowly, drifting sideways in the gentle breeze.
Billy lit the end of the magnesium ribbon. The balloon rose into the night sky with a brightness that equaled a full moon and drifted toward Perrysburg, clearly illuminating the land below. He watched to see if there were any attackers in the vicinity of their defenses—there were none.
As the flare slowly moved over Perrysburg, it gained altitude, casting its pale light over the land.
“Look, there’s a light shining at us,” Pete Watson said.
“Huh?” The Clan Warrior standing guard duty beside him looked up. “What the hell’s that?”
“It’s coming closer.” Watson’s voice rose higher, entering into the register that signaled panic. “Quick, warn the others. It’s gotta be an attack.” As he spoke, the light rose higher into the night sky, coming ever closer.
“It’s, it’s in the air.” Watson wanted to crawl under the nearest bush and cover his head. The light flickered intensely blue-white. Something is above it, Watson thought. Is it a daemon that steals men’s souls?
Clan soldiers stared at the strange light in the sky lighting up their entire encampment. All they knew was it had come from the direction of the Fed settlement. Some spoke of weapons their parents had told them about the Collapse. Others were sure it was an evil spirit.
The light reached a point directly overhead, flickered, and exploded. Something drifted, flapping toward the ground, like a bird of death in a darkness that now seemed even more oppressive.
Search as they might, they found no creature or carcass of anything resembling the bird that had flown through the night.
Chris put the Horse Soldiers on alert, fearing a counterattack.
The darkness yielded only distant, desperate cries of the wounded in the Fed’s settlement.
Chapter Nineteen
“All right, y’lazy sods, get up,” Elroy Stanek’s piercing voice split the pre-dawn darkness and awakened Chris Kuchinski.
She yawned and rose. A pink rim on the eastern horizon promised a day of fine weather.
“Rise and shine. Let’s go get ’em.” In spite of Stanek’s call to war, breakfast came first. The Horse Soldiers never attacked into the sun at first light, nor did they ride on empty bellies.
Later, she met the platoon leaders to review the scouts’ report. She was uneasy about the coming day and wanted to check on their preparations. Going into battle always made her feel jittery, and the episode with the strange light the previous night didn’t help. No one knew what had caused it. The Fed had too many things that reminded her of the pre-Collapse technology Taylor talked about.
Chris learned from scouts the west gate had been reinforced and even now, work continued. While riding close to the Fed lines, they’d drawn fire. There was fresh dirt by the entrance and a new ditch blocking it. She’d learned from the quartermaster there were only sixty black powder bombs remaining—just enough for one more attack.
This assault has to work, Chris thought. Otherwise we’ll have to wait until we get more black powder bombs, which meant getting another shipment from Rivermouth. She knew if she came back with casualties and no victory, Ramsey would use this as an excuse to post her on the frontier far from any action and a sure end to her career.
“How about using some of the farmers’ hay wagons as protection for our archers when they advance on foot?” Platoon leader Doaks asked. “Them Feds don’t have catapults to throw bombs at us. They only got rifles.”
“Good idea. Add planks to the wagons, and maybe a layer of sod,” Sinkton said. “That’d give the archers more protection.”
“Do it,” Chris said. “Doaks, Sinkton, it’s your job.” She paused. “This time, we’ll use the wagons for cover, we’ll attack the gate and the secondary barrier. The Horse Soldiers will leapfrog the archers once they make an opening in the Fed lines.” She knew she had to be positive even though she did not feel like it. “This’ll work.”
“Something coming,” A Fed guard called, pointing west. He was on the top of the foundry building, acting as a lookout.
Captain Kerr climbed up. Six four-wheeled hay wagons piled high with boards slowly moved closer through the tall grass. Barely visible behind each was a cluster of brown-shirted men.
“Damn.” Kerr hurried down from the vantage point and sought out Billy. “They’re using wagons to cover their advance. They’ll be harder to stop this time. There’re more of them this time. They’ve committed all of their forces to this attack.”
Billy stepped away from Kerr and spoke through his communications system to Mata ChaLik. “The Bird-that-Soars must come, and soon. Our defenses cannot hold out much longer. If the savages break through, I cannot stop them.” He’d worked all night. He knew many of the guards were on the ragged edge of exhaustion. “Do you understand? Come at once.”
“I hear you, Bilik Pudjata. It may be possible to get the Bird-that-Soars there soon. Is it wise to let them see it? Perhaps I should bring it after dark,” Mata ChaLik said. “What will the Keepers think?”
“If you don’t come immediately,” Billy’s frustration boiled over. “Your concerns about what the others think will be meaningless. Do you not understand? The savages are about to overrun us. If they do, there won’t be any new propulsion tube,” he spoke loudly in his native tongue.
Kerr inched closer to Billy, staring at him. “Omigod,” he said to his aide. “He’s having a fit.”
Billy ignored him.
“Yes,” Mata ChaLik said. “I’m just beyond your horizon. I’m setting a course for you now.”
“Approach the foundry directly,” Billy said. “Just do it.”
“But, but …” It was obvious that Mata ChaLik had not expected Billy to speak in this fashion.
