To the Stars Trilogy Part 49

"Back inside," Dvora told him, signaling her squad to follow. "What is this place?"

"Quartermaster supply. I was servicing the forklifts, charging them up.

"Is there a way through this building?" Dvora asked.

"Yeah, sure. Stairs to the second floor; cut through the offices. Look, lady, can you tell me what's going on?"

"There has been trouble, fighting, rebel sympathisers. But we are stopping them."

The man looked around at the silent, armed squad, their uniforms bare of identification or marks of rank.

He started to ask a question, then instantly thought better of it. "Just follow me. I'll show you the way:'

They went up one flight of stairs and started along the hall.

"You said the second fibor?" Dvora was suspicious, her gun raised.

"That's right, this one. The second floor."

She waved him on. Little details. She had forgotten that Americans called the ground floor the first. And who had forgotten the little detail about the barriers in the road? She wondered how the others were doing, hut knew better than to break radio silence.

"That's the street door ahead," their captive said. "Where you want to go.

Dvora nodded and pointed to Grigor, who stepped forward and slapped the man on the back of the neck. He stifled the startled scream with one big hand, then eased the unconscious figure to the floor.

After unlocking the door, Dvora slowly opened it a crack and looked out, distant gunfire and explosions could be heard-then quickly closed it again. She set her radio on the command frequency.

"Black cat five to black cat one. Do you read me?"

The answer came instantly. "Black cat one reading."

"In position."

"Black cat two is in trouble. Pinned down. Yov're on your own. Effrct entrance now. Out."

The squad stood waiting for instructions, weapons ready; Dvora looked around at them. Good people.

But they knew next to nothing yet about comb~t. They were about to learn. The survivors would be experienced.

"The groups attacking the front of the target have beeji held up," she said. "They must be meeting strong resistance. So we're going to have to do the job. The building across the road should not be as well defended. We hope. The plan is to get in there, get to the rear where it backs onto the target. We go through that wall..."

She broke off as they heard 'a siren in the street outside, growing louder. She pointed to Grigor who ran forward and dropped flat, then opened the door slightly. "Car coming," be said. "It may be stopping at the doorway there-someone has come out and is waving to it."

"We go," Dvora said, making an instant decision. "Bazooka. Take it ot.i.t as soon as it stops. Then put one through the doorway. We'll follow right behind."

After that it was a matter of training. Vasil rolled aside and the bazooka gunner dropped down in his spot, eyes to the sight, his weapon trained. His loader was beside him, pus.h.i.+ng the rocket missile into the rear of the tube, slapping his shoulder to let him know it was ready. The rest of the squad moved to the sides, clear of the backlash of flame when it was fired. In the street the siren wailed down to silence as the car braked to stop.

A tongue of fire shot back from the bazooka and an explosion rocked the street outside. The loader was jam-ming in another rocket even as the gla.s.s from broken windows was cras.h.i.+ng to the ground.

"Smoke, target obscured the bazooka gunner mt.i.ttered, waiting-then the flame lanced out again. The explosion, inside the building this time, was m.u.f.fled. Dvora threw the door wide and led the squad in a rush.

A smoking wreck of a car, bodies burning in the crackling interior. Up the steps and through the ruined doorway, jumping over the huddle of still more bodies here. One of them alive, raising his gun, soaked in blood. Two shots cracked out and he fell with the others. They were jammed in the entrance, fighting to get in. A long hallway, running, shouting soldiers coming toward them.

"Down!" Vasil shouted, standing spread-legged while they dropped, spraying death like water from a hose from the muzzle of his machine gun. Sheets of flame blasted from the recoilless ports behind his arm, empty casings bounced clattering from the wall. The big 50-calibre slugs tore the running men apart, spun them about, hurled them down, killed them all.

There was little mopping up to do. The speed and shock of their attack had carried the defenders before it. But time was running out; they were falling behind. They moved faster now, following Dvora's direction as she consulted the detailed floor plan she had been given.

Thurgood-Smythe had stipplied it of course. Along with all of the other information needed to launch the attack. She had forgotten the man, and her doubts, in the cold frenzy of the fighting. Nbr could she afford to think about him now.

"This is the place," she said, when they entered the large room, one end filled with packing cases. "That wall, where the notices are posted. Six meters in from the lefthand edge."

And they had even remembered to bring the measur-ing rtiles. Three of them had been issued so at least one would get this far. Dvora got her breath back while they made the wall.

"Take cover," she said. "In the hall, behind those crates. When the charges g~~we go. We should be in a wide c~~rridor leading to the entrance that has to be unblo( ~ This is the big one."

Dvora checked the fuses herself; all secure. Then ran back to the hall, the wire hissing from the roller in her hand. Dropped through and hit the firing b.u.t.ton at the same time.

For one instant as the charge blew she thought of Thurgood-Smythe, and if he had told the truth about what awaited them on the other side of the wall.

After that there was no time for thought. Coughing in the cloud of dust and smoke, scrambling. through the ragged opening. Running. The surprise of the defenders as they were taken from their rear, heads turning, mouths opening even as they fell.

It was butchery. The heavy bunkers outside were open from the rear, had no defenses from that flank.

Grenades and gunfire cleaned them out.

"Come on now... black cat... the door is open..." she gasped into her radio. Troops appeared through the thick smoke. General Blonstein was first.

"Final goal. Missile control room," he said. "Follow me.

They stopped outside the entrance to the complex, still out of breath from rus.h.i.+ng up ~he three floors.

"Keep your weapons lowered when we go in there," Blonstein said. "We don't want any sabotage. I'll talk to them, explain, give them a story, while the rest of you filter through the control consoles.

Remember, we want to capture this place, not destroy...

His words were interrupted by the thud of a small explosion, apparently from a room across the hall from them; a dozen gun muzzles were trained on it as the k.n.o.b slowly turned. It opened even more slowly and a man appeared, leanitig back against the doorjamb for support; his clothing drenched in blood.

"Thurgood-Smythe!" Dvora said.

"There has been treachery in high places," Thurgood-Smythe whispered as he slowly slumped down to the floor.

Twenty-Three "They knew," Admiral Skougaard said, staring fixedly.at the identification of the enemy s.h.i.+ps. "They had to know. There is no other explanation for the presence of that force to be there at this time."

"Tb urgood-Smythe?" Jan said.

"You tell me." There was no warmth or humanity left in Skougaard's voice now. "You brought me the plan."

"I also said that I wasn't sureif it could be trusted or not."

'And so you did. We'll all pay with our lives for that mistake. At least we can see what is happening. I'm sorrier for the troops jammed into that transport."

"We can still fight, can't we? We're not giving in?"

Cold anger was replaced by a wintery smile on the Admiral's face. "We'll not give in. But I'm afraid we have no chance at all of winning. We are up against three times as many missiles as we can launch, probably more. They'll just overload our defenses then come through. About all we can do is separate from the transport, fight a holding action for as long as we can in the hopes that they will survive."

"Won't that work?"

"No. But we do it anyway. Orbital mechanics is too rigid a discipline for there to be any doubts. They will meet us, we will fight. We might injure them, probably not. They'll take us out. Then follow the ~ransport and pick it off at their ease.

"We can change course."

"So can they. We cannot get away, only prolong the end. If you have any personal messages put them through to the radio room for transmission for the second squad-ron to pa.s.s on...

"It seems so unfair! After coming this far, after the battles for the planets, everything!"

"Since when has fairness had anything to do with winning battles? Armies and navies used to travel with priests~on both sides~each a.s.suring the fighting men that G.o.d was on their particular side. One general said that G.o.d was on the side of the biggest battalions, which is nearer to the truth."

There was little to add to that. Three fighting s.h.i.+ps against one. The outcome of this encounter could not be in doubt. Under the Admiral's direction their orbits were altered slightly and the two s.p.a.cers began to drift apart; there was no change in the enemy's...o...b..t. Skougaard pointed to one of the screens.

"They are risking nothing-and leaving nothing to chance. If we hit the atmosphere at this speed we will burn up. They know we must brake, and just how much, and they will be there to meet us just when we are most vulnerable, when our speed is lowest, just outside the atmbsphere."

As the hours dragged by rage gave way to apathy; the numbness of the condemned man in his cell, waiting for the wardens. Jan thought about the road that he had followed, that had led him to this spot, at this particular time. Although he had no desire to die, he could not see how he could have done anything differently, could have followed any other path, taken any different decisions. His life was what it was, he had no regrets, other than that it was just being terminated a little earlier than he had planned.

'And now the last act begins," Skougaard said with grim Scandinavian fatalism as sudden explosions flared in s.p.a.ce ahead. "They send their first missiles even though it is extreme range, knowing they can't hit us-but knowing that we have no choice, that we must expend our anti-missile defenses. Attrition."

The steady attack by the enemy missiles continued relentlessly-then stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

"Our reserves are down to twenty percent," Skougaard said. "What kind of cat and mouse game are they playing at?"

"Radio contact is clear," the operator said. "On our frequency, but emanating from the Earth s.h.i.+ps. They want to talk to you, Admiral."

Skougaard hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "Put them through."

A communication screen flicked on with the image of a full-bearded man in full dress s.p.a.ce Force uniform.

"I thought it might be you, Ryzard," the Admiral said. "Why are yQu calling?"

"To offer you terms, Skougaard."

"Surrender? I don't think I like that. You'll only kill us all in the end anyway."

"Of course. Bt.i.t you'll get a few more weeks of life. A trial, a military execution."

"Sounds charmin~ but not yery attractive. And just what arrangements ave you made for my s.h.i.+ps to surrender?"

"s.h.i.+p. Singular. They want you and your Dannebrog as a memorial t6 the failed rebellion. The other s.h.i.+p with you, which I a.s.sume is a troop carrier, we are blowing up. That is another kind of memorial for the rebellion."

"You can go to h.e.l.l, Ryzard, you and the rest of your murderers."

"I thought you might say that. You always were stubborn ...

"One question, Ryzard, a last favor for an old cla.s.s-mate. You were informed of our plans, weren't you?"

Ryzard brushed his fingers slowly through his beard before answering. "It can do no harm now to tell you. We knew exactly what you were going to do. You never stood a chance. Our information came right from the top..."

Skougaard broke the connection with a slap of his hand. "Thurgood~Sniythe. The galaxy would have been a better place if he had been smothered as an infant..."

A buzzer sounded stridently for attention, a red light began pulsing on one of the screens at the same time. Skougaard swung about to look at it.

"Earth-launched missiles," he said. "They are going to a lot of trouble to make certain of their kill. Those big ones have multiple atomic warheads. Can't be stopped by anything that we can put in front of them now. Must be a dozen of them. Launched in counter orbit, they'll be here in seconds... but no! That can't be possible!"

"What?" Jan asked. "What do you mean?"

The Admiral was struck speechless, could only point at the screen. Jan looked, seeing the plotted course of the new attack, the three enemy s.h.i.+ps.

Distant explosions flared in s.p.a.ce as the missiles pressed home their attack. But not at the rebels, not at all.

It was the three attacking s.h.i.+ps had been destroyed.

The missiles had been aimed at them, not the two rebel s.h.i.+ps, had punched through their defenses, had vaporized them utterly in the instant h.e.l.l of atomic explosions.

It was unbelievable-but it had happened. In a single instant defeat had been turned to victory. In the stunned silence that followed the Admiral's voice bellowed out clearly.

"Make a signal," he said, an uncontrollable tremor in his voice. "Secure for retrofiring. And prepare for land-ing. Enemy forces destroyed. We're going in!"

Twenty-Four.

Down out of the clear blue sky the two great s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps fell. There was no ground control, no contact with s.p.a.ceconcent control, so they were not being guided into the landirsg pits. They were aimed instead for the wide stretches of concrete of the airfield. Well clear of the transport planes, they dropped down ~n thundering spires of flame in a crus.h.i.+ng five-G landing. Strapped to their bunks, fighting for breath where an 80 -kilo man suddenly weighed 400 kilos, the crews and the soldiers waited. As the landing legs touched the engines were cut-and they were on the ground. The reinforced concrete buckled and cracked under their weight, but the computers compensat-ed instantly for the difference and the s.h.i.+ps remained upright.

As the engines shut down aboard the Dannebrog the s.h.i.+elds snapped away from the outside cameras and the scene appeared on every screen inside the s.h.i.+p. The troop carrier, with smoke still billowing up around it, suddenly changed shape as all of its cargo doors and hatches were blown out at the same instant. Landing ramps reached out and crashed down into place, while folding ladders rattled down from the open ports. The attack was on. Light tanks hurtled down the ramps and out through the smoke while soldiers swarmed like ants down the ladders. There was no sign of opposition and the attackers spread out as quickly as they could, yacing toward the buildings at the edge of the field.

Admiral Skougaard was listening in on the combat circuit. He nodded with pleasure then leaned over and switched the radio off.

"They're down and safe," he said. "Contact made with the Israelis and they have joined forces to knock out all of the remaining resistance. We've done our job. Now it's up to them."

Jan watched the troops fan out through the buildings until they had vanished from sight, his thoughts going around and around and refusing to settle down. Was this it-really it? Was the war over~or would the Earth troops continue the fighting? They could not be stopped if they did; the defenders would be overrun, wiped out. But the base would be destroyed. Was the threat of this great enough to prevent the disaster...'

"Here," Skougaard said, pus.h.i.+ng a watergla.s.s tow~rd Jan. "We will drink to success now-and victory to follow soon after."

It was akvavit not water that filled the gla.s.s and the Admiral drained his with pleasure, smacking his lips.