Firemask: Book Two of the Last Legion Series (8 page)

“Ho-ho,” Dill shouted into his mike. “First blood for Ben!”

• • •

“
Corfe, Corfe,
this is
Corfe-Two,
” the panicked patrol boat’s commander broadcast. “
Corfe-Three
destroyed by Musth … there’s too many of ‘em, all attacking!
Corfe-Four
under attack as well!”

A missile launched by one of Dill’s wingmen blew up half a kilometer away, and the man flinched, reflexively slamming his ship into stardrive.

• • •

Rao heard movement, stuck his pistol around, and slammed half a dozen rounds down the corridor without looking to see who it was.

“We’re dead if we stay here,” Rao decided. “Out of here, and run for that hangar! Stay spread out!”

Fearful faces peered at him, then obediently clattered down the gangway.

Rao’s eyes were on them, and Redruth seized the moment, knocking the
caud
sideways, then darting back into the corridor, into a compartment, and sliding the door shut.

“Bastard!” and Rao went after the others.

• • •

A Kuran gunner saw the running men and women, switched his target acquisition to manual, and swiveled the guns down toward them.

Yoshitaro’s Cooke popped up above a transport lifter, and his gunner sent 150 rounds into the position before the man could open fire.

Moments later the Council members ran into the hangar, through it, and out the other side.
Caud
Rao was last. He crouched, blew the rest of his pistol magazine into the open lock of the
Corfe,
doing no good but no harm either.

Then he was gone, after the others, as cannon shells ripped through the tarmac where he’d been.

• • •

“Close the lock,” Celidon ordered. “Why was this not done — ”

He broke off, realizing the stupidity of blame-finding until later.

Another com clicked.

“Bridge, this is Gunnery Compartment Thirteen. We have the Protector safely …” There was a clatter of static, then Redruth’s voice: “Celidon! Lift the ship out of here! They’ve trapped us!”

Celidon forced calm.

“Captain, prepare for lift. Take it straight out over the ocean, then into stardrive as soon as we clear atmosphere.”

“Yessir.”

“Have all patrol ships pull in to support us.”

“Yessir.”

Celidon noted pressure in his ears, realized the lock was … finally … shut.

“You … Section Leader … three men to Gunnery Thirteen, and escort the Protector to the bridge!”

“Sir!”

Celidon felt the flagship come clear of the ground, heard the subdued whine of the antigravs.

• • •

Ben Dill flashed through the outer atmosphere, his screens showing Camp Mahan far below. He held the zoom sensor in, saw the
Corfe
as it started to move.

He punched the missile firing button as he plunged down, through thirty-thousand meters at some impossible Mach number, felt the
aksai
wiggle as all his missiles ripple-fired, and realized he was about to make a crescent-sized hole in D-Cumbre, slid sensors back, cut power, and the Musth fighting ship bucked, shuddered, began trying to pull out of its dive, fighting compressibility, barely on the edge of control.

The missiles, intended for air-to-air or space use, lost the target in ground clutter and smashed into the tarmac, not one hundred meters from the
Corfe.

Two seconds later, Dill’s
aksai
whipped past, not thirty meters above the
Corfe.

• • •

On the bridge of the Musth flagship, a huge, new, heavily armed mother ship, Wlencing considered screens. Beside him was a slightly smaller Musth, with much the same markings as Wlencing.

“So they are fighting,” he told Aesc. “Each other, I assume. But where did those
aksai
come from? We know of no other Musth having interest in this region, this matter, do we?”

“No,” Aesc said. “A puzzlement. The humans must have found some of those ships under repair we did not have time to load.”

“Leader,” a weapons-firer reported. “One of the human ships, a ship-of-patrol, has launched at us. A countermissile has already been released. It has acquired and is about to destroy their weapon. Shall I return fire on the ship-of-patrol?”

Wlencing looked at the Musth beside him.

“Alikhan, I assume you would like to launch in your own fighting craft and deal properly with these enemies, no doubt, wanting to be a young hero?”

His eldest offspring lifted a paw.

“I am not foolish enough to believe I could reach him before a missile, Progenitor.”

“Good,” Wlencing approved. “Never forget a gun’s reach far exceeds a knife’s. Destroy the ship.”

The weapons-firer swept a hand over a bank of sensors.

Ten missiles spat toward
Corfe-Four.
It evaded two, then the third smashed into its midsection and the ship vanished.

“Good,” Aesc said. “Recall the other missiles and proceed with the landing.”

• • •

“Those are Musth ships,” Celidon said. “Some kind of mother craft. We were too late taking over the planet, and — ”

Redruth burst onto the bridge, panting, eyes half-glazed.

“Get us into space,” he snapped. “This was a trap!”

“Perhaps not a trap,” Celidon said calmly. “But we certainly didn’t credit these Cumbrians with enough brains. And no one could predict the convenient arrival of the Musth. We’re already lifting for space. Calm yourself, Protector.

“We’ll fight them … destroy them … another day.”

• • •

The
Corfe
cleared Chance Island, never noticing two tiny Cookes at full drive after it. Garvin Jaansma was in the first Cooke, Njangu Yoshitaro in the second, somewhat to the rear.

“Can you hit it?” Garvin demanded. He was half-standing, crouched behind the windscreen.

“Doubt it, sir,” Ho Kang said.

“We’re losing ground,” Running Bear reported. “They’ve got legs on us.”

The com crackled.

“What the hell are you doing? That bastard’s gonna turn around and swat you like a fly,” Yoshitaro snapped. Garvin paid no mind. “Give ‘em a burst.”

“Yessir.”

Ho Kang pushed her firing stud, and tracers sailed out, fell hundreds of meters short of the fleeing
Corfe.
The Cooke shuddered, slowed in reaction.

“Shit, shit, shit. Can you lob it over ‘em?”

“Not a chance, sir.”

Garvin came back to reality a little as the
Corfe
went vertical and flashed away, a dot, then a tiny flare from its drive. Seconds later, just out-atmosphere, it entered stardrive and was gone.

Jaansma sat down in his seat as the Cooke slowed.

“Crud.” He brightened. “At least we gave it the good old try.”

Running Bear eyed him oddly, said nothing. Ho looked as disappointed as Jaansma.

“ ‘Kay,” Garvin said, suddenly tired. “Take it back home, and don’t call me a crazed sort too loudly.”

“Nossir.”

The Cooke banked, turned, and Yoshitaro’s ACV caught up, closed alongside.

“Might I ask what the hell you were trying?” Njangu shouted.

“Kind of lost my temper.”

“Yeesh,” Yoshitaro said. “You are, without question, either going to die a Sky Marshal with a double Confederation Cross, or I’m going to strangle you for sheer — ”

“Uh, sir,” Running Bear interrupted. “We’ve got a Mayday beacon. Just ahead of us. In the water, I think.”

Garvin puzzled, then remembered that strange burst of fire from the
Corfe.

“Let’s see if there’s anything to pick up.”

Running Bear cut speed further and shed altitude until he was just above the ocean.

“There it is,” he said.

The speedster bobbed, two halves, one nearly submerged, in the small waves.

“Doesn’t look like we need bother stopping.”

“Negative,” Jaansma said. “I see a hand waving. Bring it on down.”

The Cooke hovered in, close to the wreckage. The speedster was a shambles, but spread across the instrument panel were the fully deployed impact bags. A man was sprawled across one, facedown, behind the controls.

Jasith Mellusin was looking at him, eyes bleared in shock.

“Garvin?”

“Yeh. Me.” Garvin jumped down into the sinking speedster, almost fell as waves rocked it.

Loy Kouro, his face bloody, staggered up from the control seat.

“I’m hurt,” he mumbled. “Help me. Get me to a hospital.”

He started forward, and Garvin neatly pushed him back.

“Wait your turn,” he said. “Ladies go first.”

He picked up Jasith, remembering other times, smelled her familiar perfume over burnt insulation and spilled fuel. He felt tears come, pushed them away, handed her up to his gunner.

“All right, you sorry bastard,” he said, turning back. “It’s your turn.”

And then the Musth smashed in-atmosphere.

CHAPTER
5

There were nineteen Council members in the chamber with their assistants;
Caud
Rao with his exec and intelligence officer; System-Leader Aesc and War Leader Wlencing.

“Firssst,” Aesc said, in Terran, sibilants hissing as almost all Musth did when they spoke Basic, “I must assssure you of one thing. While our raccce is angered by the deathsss of our people, we have decccided to offer another chanccce.”

The Council members mostly looked skeptical.

“We would like to live in peaccce with Man,” Aesc insisted. “Perhapsss one of our problemsss before wasss we chossse to live apart from each other.

“Thisss matter hasss been consssidered, and we ssshall attempt to conjoin with you.”

“What, precisely, does that mean?” Jo Poynton asked.

“Firssst,” Wlencing said, “we ssshall not dwell on mattersss such as the deathsss of our people in the recccent uprisssing, nor even on the recccent deathsss of our caretakersss in the headquartersss on the high flatland, ignoring even the possssibility that our fellows were ssset upon and murdered in a mossst unwarrior-like manner.”

“We ssshall offer positions in our minesss on Sssilitric, in every capacity from sssupervisor to rock-worker,” Aesc said. “Payment ssshall be made in gold, which I assssume can be converted into your creditsss.

“Perhapsss, also, sssome of our mining expertsss might benefit from working with their human counterpartsss, working or at leassst obssserving your methodsss.

“Alssso, while our main headquartersss ssshall be where they were before on the high flatland and on Sssilitric, after we have purified them from the deathsss of our caretakersss, we ssshall open … consssulshipsss, I believe is your word, in mossst of the cccitiesss on this world.”

“To what purpose?” a Councilman asked.

“Asss I sssaid before, dissstance, unfamiliarnessss, can breed hatred,” Aesc said. “With our people in closssenessss to each other, we can grow to know the other, and perhapsss regrettable instancesss of the passst ssshall not recur. Perhapsss, even, in the future, we might be able to offer visssitsss to sssome of our worldsss to further bring our peoplesss together.”

“It appears,”
Caud
Rao said, “you’ve returned with far more of your people than before, and it also appears from our analyses that your ships are for war, not merchant or mining.”

“Sssuch isss the truth,” Wlencing said. “We are a cautiousss raccce. And perhapsss it is well that they are, for we were able to drive away the one you sssaid was trying to take over thesse worldsss.”

“True,” Rao admitted. “But what, specifically, is your military intent, remembering this system is still part of the Confederation?”

“Only a fool comesss to a place and immediately sssays what ssshould be done here, there, and everywhere,” Wlencing said. “We would like to take a few cyclesss to ssstudy the matter, jussst obssserving, and work with your warriorsss.

“I am cccertain sssome sssort of equitable matter might be achieved. Perhapsss we could ssshare the tasssk of defenssse, with our warriorsss taking responsssibility for aerial and ssspace defenssse, and you deal with mattersss here on the ground.

“Or perhapsss cccertain unitsss might be combined, asss an interesssting experiment.”

“With which race in command?”
Caud
Rao said.

Wlencing pushed a paw against the air, signifying lack of concern. “That decisssion might be reached at the correct time, not thisss one. I noticcce, by the way, you dissspersssed your forcesss from the manner they were when we were here before. It would be a good gesssture if they would be returned to their peacccetime dutiesss and barracksss.

“One thing we mussst insssissst on. You cleverly were able to put a ssscattering of
aksai
into combat with the intrudersss. We assssume you plan the return of thossse fighting ssshipsss at your bessst convenience.”

Rao hesitated, then nodded. “We shall.”

“That iss good,” Wlencing said, inclined his head to Aesc. “I am sssorry to have intruded on your ssspeech, but there were mattersss of my expertnessss to be anssswered.”

“I have little elssse to sssay,” Aesc said, “other than we ssshall remain in clossse contact with thisss Councccil, and asss other mattersss presssent themssselves, no doubt other meetingsss will be ssscheduled, with hope that they are asss congenial as thisss one.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and moved lithely away, Wlencing following him. The war leader paused beside
Caud
Rao.

“Isss it not good that my belief that we would be fighting when next we met hasss not come true?”

“War is never good,” Rao said.

Wlencing moved a paw across his chest, then turned and followed Aesc out of the chamber.

“What did that last gesture mean?” Angara asked.

Rao shrugged, Hedley shook his head.

“Maybe that he thinks you’re a flippin’ pacifist, which the Musth don’t have much use for?”

“I surely don’t like the idea,” Angara said, “that the Musth run around with all the air power, and we pound the ground. That isn’t exactly cutting the pie in half. Nor am I bouncing up and down about the idea that we have to pull everybody back to Mahan and go back to being a big fat target.

“But I can’t think of a damned thing we can do to change that.”

“And I’m not very fond of giving those hot little
aksai
back,” Hedley said. “But like you said, we seem to have a shortage of flipping options.”

“What’s your appreciation?” Rao asked his intelligence officer.

“Specifically, that the Musth have too many of those big mother … in two senses of the flipping word … ships, that every one of them I see looks and acts like a fighter, not a miner, that I’d guess the Force is outnumbered two or three to one, most likely more.

“Overall … the Musth are almost as flipping good at lying as I am,” Hedley said.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Rao said.

• • •

“
More
flowers?” Jasith asked.

“Indeed,” the nurse said, and examined them critically. “I quite think they’re the loveliest yet. No doubt encouraging you to get off your cute little heinie, pay your bill, go home, and leave us alone.”

“Merle, that isn’t very nursely.”

“And what made you the judge of nurseliness?” the young man asked.

Jasith grinned. “Like you said, I’m paying the bills.”

“If you want to be
that
way about it … your husband called, and he’ll be about an hour late. Council meeting with our furry friends from beyond.”

“Only an hour. Practically early for Loy,” Jasith said.

“Now, now,” Merle said. “By the way, a bit of under-the-stretcher information. Your doctor thinks the infection’s finally been knocked down, so you should get out of here in the next day or two.”

“If you want a kiss,” Jasith said fervently, “you have only to ask.”

“Not quite my style,” Merle said. “Besides, I don’t believe him. Whatever strange rot you picked up going swimming out there’s probably still with you. And I watch my health.”

“Why don’t you go find me some fruit juice,” Jasith said. “And slip about three fingers of alk in it?”

“And then drink it myself,” the nurse said, put the elaborate arrangement on one of the long tables in the suite, already looking like a botanical garden, and walked out.

Jasith looked at the arrangement, decided Merle was possibly right and it was the prettiest, and opened the card.

Best,

Garvin

Jasith Mellusin grimaced, crumpled the card, and tossed it into the trash.

She went to the window, looked down at Leggett, then across the bay to Chance Island, dim in the morning mist.

Two of the strange, frightening Musth fighting ships smashed over the city, then climbed sharply toward a mother ship hovering high overhead. Even through the insulated windows Jasith heard the
snap-crack
of the sonic booms.

She stayed at the window for a long time, then came back, picked Garvin’s card from the trash, carefully smoothed it, and put it in a safe place.

• • •

Alikhan, Wlencing’s cub, eyed the three
aksai
parked beside one of the taxiways at Camp Mahan’s landing field.

“All three of these can fly?” he asked the officer beside him, a human almost as big as the Musth.

“Yes. Two fly well, the other’s a limper … sorry, a cripple,”
Alt
Dill said.

“I see.” Again, Alikhan looked at the
aksai.
“These are the ones that were flown against the invaders?”

“That’s right,” Ben said, hoping the Musth weren’t able to see through a liar as transparent as he was.

“That is remarkable,” Alikhan said. “I would never have expected aircraft in such condition to be capable of fighting, maneuvering.”

“It was interesting,” Dill said, for once telling the truth.

“You were one of the pilots?”

“I was.”

“Who was the one who killed the patrol ships?”

“I hit one, my wingman … that’s one of the men who flies beside me and keeps me from being attacked from the rear … got another.

“I missed the
Corfe
… that’s Alena Redruth’s flagship.” Dill knew he was talking too much.

“So you have a kill,” Alikhan said. “I have not been that fortunate.”

“I hope,” Dill said, “you remain unfortunate, as long as you stay in this system.”

Alikhan’s mouth came open, and he hissed from the back of his throat, sounding like an enraged cat, and Dill stepped back, hand touching his pistol, then realized the sound must denote amusement.

“You are most clever,” the Musth said.

“Thanks. Sorry for misunderstanding … I haven’t been around you people very much.”

“Nor have I.”

“How did you learn to speak our Common Speech so well?” Dill asked. “The few Musth I’ve been around sometimes are hard to understand.”

“You mean we sound like an air leak?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

“The one who taught me to speak Basic, a most harsh taskmaster, did.”

Dill grinned. “What do
we
sound like, talking Musth?”

“No one knows,” Alikhan said. “None of you have ever succeeded in learning the language.”

Dill, laughing, didn’t see Alikhan’s hand touch his projector, waiting for the reaction. Alikhan took his hand away, allowing his own amusement to show.

“I’d ask you back to the officers’ club for a drink,” Dill said. “But I don’t think you drink alcohol.”

“We do not,” Alikhan said. “I learned about your habits, shudder to think of some. Nor would you like what we consume for relaxation.”

“Which is?”

“Meat that has been allowed to decay for a time, with various spices.”

“Mmmh,” Dill said. “We do that, but cook it first.”

“Thus ruining all the savor.”

“It’s a pity,” Dill said, changing the subject, “your leaders wouldn’t let us keep these ships. It would be interesting to fight mock-war against each other, with the same equipment.”

“It would,” Alikhan agreed. “But perhaps it would be inappropriate for such a rehearsal.”

Dill looked at him carefully.

“Are you sure that was the word you meant to use?”

“Certainly,” Alikhan said. “For what else can happen but war? Whether you or I wish it is immaterial.”

Dill considered him thoughtfully.

“I’ve noticed that people who decide there’s gonna be a fight generally produce one. The problem is, it doesn’t come out the way they’ve figured, all the time.”

Caud
Rao decided to wait to bring the regiments back to Chance Island until the Musth brought it up again.

But they didn’t for more than two weeks, and Rao couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Were the Musth forgetful, or didn’t they take RaoForce that seriously?

• • •

Garvin whistled cheerily into the BOQ suite he shared with Njangu, took a moment to realize Yoshitaro was staring, as if hypnotized, at the com screen. There was an image frozen on it.

“Whassup?”

“Look,” Njangu managed.

Garvin looked at the screen.

“Who they?”

“You uneddicated oaf, that’s the Planetary Council.”

“I would’ve guessed a bunch of fat thieves.”

“That too.”

“So what?”

Njangu manipulated controls, came in on one person. Garvin looked closely at it.

“Hey! That’s … what the hell was her name? The ‘Raum who was The Movement’s intel chief when we were playing covert? The one you cut a skate on at the end and told her to get lost?”

“Jo Poynton,” Njangu said. “That’s her. I thought it was a cover name, like most of them used. But if it was, she’s using the same one now.”

“And she’s on the Council?” Garvin was incredulous.

“Why not? The war’s over,” Yoshitaro said cynically, “and all wounds are healed up ickle and pretty.”

“But she was their main spymaster, part of the main rebel command, what’d they call it, the Planning Group!”

“Guess that proves cream rises to the top.”

“But how come nobody tattled her to the journohs? That idiot Kouro’d be happy to call her all kinds of sons of bitches if he knew.”

“Maybe,” Njangu said, “the only entry that’s still around is in our archives. I’d guess that when PlanGov got blown up, all of Policy and Analysis files got naturally shredded, along with the shitheads that tortured the info out of people.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

Njangu shrugged. “I guess nothing.”

Garvin looked carefully at his executive officer.

“Weren’t you and her, uh …”

“Uh is the way to put it.”

“You gonna ring her up?”

“And say what?”

“Hell if I know,” Garvin said. “I got my own problems.”

Njangu eyed Jaansma.

“I didn’t get it before, but you
are
a little too goddamned happy. For why?”

“Well,” Garvin said, sounding a little guilty, “I just sent some flowers out.”

“Ali with his beard on fire,” Njangu swore. “Don’t you ever give up? She’s a married woman, remember?”

“I know,” Garvin said, and Njangu realized the conversation had just come to an end.