“We are doomed,” he whispered, as he tossed the staff onto the body. He looked to the oolt’os. They were of his personal oolt and all fairly intelligent. They should be able to follow the instructions. “Carry him to the hill.” He pointed to be sure they were clear on which hill he meant. “Place him on the pile of threshkreen that are upon the top of the hill. Take the staff. Report back to this location when you are done.”
Ardan’aath drifted his tenar up behind him. “We have to get moving.” He pointed to the distant obelisk. “We’ve killed that one, but more will be back.”
Kenallai turned to the older Kessentai. The commander could not expect him to suddenly change as he had. He had not had the vision. “Do you realize how thoroughly we have failed?”
Ardan’aath did not even turn his head. But a twitch of crest betrayed his discomfort. “I never expected you to be one to throw the staff,” he said dubiously.
Kenallai flared his nostrils in agreement. “Well, I have. And I will tell you. We are caught in the grat’s nest. There is no escape.”
Ardan’aath took a deep breath. “I will give you a moment to decide. After that you can take the field or return to the rear.”
Kenallai flared his crest in bleak humor. “You idiot. There is no rear. I will take the field with or without you. And be damned to your threats. But it is because we have no retreat! This is the end! We have thresh dug-in like abat in this damn building,” he continued, gesturing to the monument behind him. “We have the force to the south, which has destroyed the host there and we are faced with this force here while the host trickles across the river. We are fuscirto uut!”
Ardan’aath gestured in negation. “You are made soft by the teachings of that young fool.” He gestured towards the obelisk-topped mound. “They are few and already running.”
The sensors screamed again as another God King slumped off his tenar. This time the fire raked from one end of the mound to the other, tearing across the front of the obelisk. But even as the fire tore into the engineering work, another target dot appeared on the OAS Annex. And another on the Agriculture Building. Then a group of oolt’os splashed away from the explosion of the first 120mm mortar round.
The .50-caliber rifles were not only powerful, they had enormous range. The snipers were taking shots from nearly a mile. Most of them were falling among the normals, causing unnoticed casualties. But the occasional shots, better or more lucky than the others, were hitting the leaders. And drawing massive response. But as more of the weapons joined the fray, the response of the God Kings was becoming more diffused.
Kenallurial fluffed his crest. “We have come far together. But now it is time to sever our relationship.” He nodded at his old friend. “I go to the field. And I shall not return.”
He turned his tenar and sent it floating down towards his waiting oolt. The heavily armed company would scythe into the distant defenders. But he already knew it was for naught.
Suddenly a targeting dot appeared at the top of the obelisk and a moment later the tenar of Ardan’aath evaporated in actinic fire as a bullet penetrated the crystal pack.
The low-grade nuclear explosion washed the steps of the Monument clear of Posleen. Kenallai had already moved away from his former comrade when it happened and he controlled his tenar as the shock wave threatened to drown it in the shallow reflecting pool.
He was beyond cursing. He winced at the gouge riven across his back by a bit of shrapnel and looked to the distant obelisk.
“That is just about enough,” he whispered. “To the Alld’nt with this.” He gestured to the members of his oolt’ondar. “Off your tenar!” He suited action to words, climbing off his own saucer and removing the plasma cannon from its pintle mount. The heavy power pack was lovingly placed across his back as the other God Kings dismounted and began gathering the oolt’os of the late Ardan’aath. “If we are among the oolt’os the fuscirto uut thresh cannot pick us out!”
He turned to the east and the distant monument as another line of explosions tracked across the mass of oolt’os gathered before the pool. “Let us to battle!” he cried. “It is a good day to die!”
The cough tore wrackingly through her chest and more blood spotted the white dust. The falling limestone cap stones had pretty well flailed her ribcage and put the final whammy on her left arm, but it had been a good shot. She had stayed in place long enough to see the God King saucer blow. Her eyes were still mostly blind from it. But it had cost her.
She knew all the long goddamn run up the stairs that it was stupid. But the thought of the shot, when she’d managed to avoid getting killed after the first one, was just too good to pass up. A shot from the top of the Washington Monument. It was a sniper’s wet dream. And it had been a good shot. She knew it the moment the stock slammed into her shoulder. Perfect, right through the fuckin’ X-ring. Despite the heaving breath. Despite the pounding heart.
The heart still refused to stop pounding. Only, now it was pounding blood out on the marble floor. But it was worth it. It had been a perfect moment. And her life had had damn few perfect moments. It had been a good shot…
CHAPTER 71
Washington, DC, United States of America, Sol III
1116 EDT October 11th, 2004 ad
They might not win, but they were taking their best shot. Keren had tossed aside his board and was down to breaking rounds. The guns were traversing their fire, walking the explosions across the front of the oncoming Posleen force. Two more gun tracks had joined them and the four mortars stitched a seam across the enemy.
Three Gun seemed to have settled down now that more ammo and support had shown up. He wished that the backup driver of the ammo truck would pitch in or at least put down her rifle. But he had become familiar with the look in her eye and wasn’t going to be the first to suggest it. And it wasn’t as if they needed the help.
The troops helping wore every damn kind of unit patch. There were cavalry, infantry and a mass of combat-support types. They didn’t really know what they were doing, but the hands made the job much faster and the mortar rounds were finally piling up quicker than the guns could pour them out. About half of them had come with a cavalry bird colonel. The guy looked like he was seventeen, which just meant he was another rejuv. As he strode around directing the support force he displayed the most incredible command of invective Keren had ever heard.
And these were just the dregs, the ones without decent weapons, or any at all for that matter. Most of the volunteers had joined the cavalry troop on Monument Mound. Some of them, they were just tired of running. Some of them figured if they didn’t stop the horses here it was all over; might as well die here as anywhere. But plenty of them seemed to just be pissed about where it was. Sure, take Virginia, who cares. Take Arlington Cemetery. We’ll take it back. But the Monument? Fuck that. There were a bunch of obvious rejuvs; most of them arrived together and seemed to know each other. He didn’t know who they were or where they had come from; they weren’t from any regular unit. But they were coming out of the woodwork now, leading any damn soldier that showed an ounce of willingness.