“Poor bastards,” Tychus said, as he dumped the gauss cannon in favor of a KM assault rifle. The reason for his disgust quickly became apparent as a Kel-Morian goliath appeared at the top of the ramp. Now it was impossible for the Devils to fire without hitting the resocs, and the marines paid a heavy price as the goliath opened fire on them. The cannon shells literally blew them apart, spraying both sides of the ramp with gore.
“Fall back!” Tychus shouted. “Ward! Can you take him out?”
“No, Sarge, my tubes are empty,” the soldier replied as Zander dragged him back.
“Damn it,” Tychus said, as the monster lumbered downhill and the Devils were forced to retreat.
As the walker arrived on the platform and swiveled toward them, it looked as though nothing less than a wholesale slaughter was about to ensue, until one of the dead bodies stood up!
Raynor immediately recognized the red armor and the distinctive tanks as belonging to Harnack! The Devil was behind the goliath and no more than ten feet away when he said, “Surprise!” and triggered the igniter. There was a loud whump as the flames hit the big machine, found their way into its power supply, and followed a fuel line to its source. The machine’s pilot was just starting to react when the goliath came apart and the resulting boom echoed between the buildings of north Polk’s Pride.
Doc was already in motion, with Max Speer only steps behind her, as pieces of debris floated down out of the sky and the black smoke began to clear. That was when they saw Harnack. The front surface of his suit had been blackened and his chest plate was cracked, but he was still vertical. “Damn!” Harnack said, as he reached up to remove his helmet. “That was awesome!”
“You are one crazy bastard,” Tychus commented as he strode past. “Bail out of that suit… . It’s toast.”
Now that the goliath had been defeated, the trip up past the point where the resocs had been slaughtered was relatively easy. And once on top, where one of the comsat station’s sturdy legs provided cover, it was possible to spread out and go after the rear-echelon types who had been ordered to take part in a last-ditch defense effort. “Time for some sweet talkin’, boys,” Tychus announced. “We gotta seduce these ladies outta their hiding spots.”
A few chuckles, kissing noises, and here, kitty kittys crackled through the frequency as the Devils began to stalk their prey.
The KMs were crouched behind pieces of fanciful sculpture that harkened back to more peaceful times and were firing on anything that moved. Kydd thinned them out with a few shots while the rest of the Devils singled out their targets and took them down.
Just then a lieutenant arrived on the scene with some resocialized marines right behind him. He waved the troops forward. Two or three fell as grenades exploded among them, but most made it through and slaughtered the KM survivors with ruthless efficiency.
That cleared the way to the circular lobby directly below the comsat station’s mast. The lifts would take them down into the maze of tunnels below, so Tychus waved the Devils forward, but was forced to stop when the lieutenant stepped out to block the way. “Hold it right there, Sergeant,” the officer said evenly. “You will enter the elevators on my command.”
Tychus frowned. “No offense, sir, but we have the bastards on the run… . Shouldn’t we follow up?”
It was like talking to a rock. “We have our orders, and our orders are always correct,” the resoc answered.
“He’s one of Vanderspool’s color guards,” Raynor said quietly. “Which means the big cheese will arrive any second now.” As if to confirm the connection, a loud roar was heard as a dropship flared in to land on the plaza beyond. And as a ramp dropped, the officer emerged. His armor was spotless. Having waited until the surrounding area was secure, Vanderspool was there to take part in the final assault, even if that gave the KMs more time to prepare.
The reason for the delay was apparent as Speer ran forward to document the colonel’s arrival. “What an asshole,” Tychus said to no one in particular.
“The sergeant will employ correct comm procedure,” the lieutenant said primly, “and refrain from the use of profanity. Over.”
Raynor thought about Sanchez, the resocialized marines, and all the others whose bodies lay like a bloody carpet between the river and the repository. An important objective had been taken. But at what price?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“… so completely devastated by war, it’s difficult to say whether the natural resources that initially drew settlers to Turaxis II were a blessing or a curse.”
THE CITY OF POLK’S PRIDE, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
The afternoon following the attack on the Kel-Morian repository the Confederates were still in the process of securing the repository and the area around it. A battalion of resocialized marines had been brought in to relieve the surviving members of the 321st. Clusters of them were sitting around the riverfront, shooting the breeze and waiting for a chance to cross the pontoon bridge into south Polk’s Pride.
The span was too narrow to accommodate two-way traffic, so until such time as the second parallel bridge was completed, it was necessary to wait up to an hour before the MPs switched the flow from one direction to the other.
The members of the Heaven’s Devils didn’t care, though. It was early afternoon, the air was warm, and they were happy to sit around doing nothing as traffic rumbled over the bridge. The Devils had taken over what had once been a ground-floor office in a blown-out warehouse, and most of them had shed their suits. The single exception was Ward, who was waiting for Feek to run a diagnostic program on his armor. The rest of the Devils were lounging about as Speer strolled into the area.
There were warm greetings as everyone gathered around to say hello to the civilian a few of them regarded as an unofficial member of the squad. And that was when Speer urged the group to step outside the shattered building for a group vidsnap.
The Devils shuffled out and gathered in a loose formation, despite Speer’s protests to “Move closer,” “look alive,” and “please, work with me, here!” They were worn out, beat up, and, though in high spirits, a couple of them still had no patience for the reporter. As they turned out to face the camera, Harnack insisted on holding his flamethrower, Zander thought it would be funny to light a cigar off of it, and Kydd hid most of his face under a boonie hat and a pair of mirrorshades. Feek was there as well, perched on top of Ward’s gauss cannon, right behind Raynor and a bare-chested Tychus. Doc, who was high on crab, sat off to the side. “Got it!” Speer said brightly as he took the shot. “I’ll call it ‘the Devils take a break.’ Our viewers will love it. So, where are you headed next? Or is that classified?”
“Raynor’s probably headed for a work camp,” Tychus said, “since Sergeant Rockwell is going to press charges.”
“And the rest of you?”
“Who the hell knows?” Tychus continued. “There’s got to be some sort of shit detail they can give us.”
Speer made a face. “Well, hang in there… . Perhaps we’ll meet again.”
Feek said his good-byes and both men left. A Klaxon sounded ten minutes later, traffic began to flow south across the bridge, and the Devils were free to follow. For others, millions of them, the wars continued.
MILITARY STOCKADE-7, WEST OF POLK’S PRIDE, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
Raynor’s wrist and leg irons rattled noisily as he hobbled out of Barracks #2 and began to cross the barren yard. It was surrounded by one-story buildings that were all painted the same shade of puke green with wire mesh over their windows. About three dozen other prisoners were out getting some sun, and a few hollered greetings as Raynor shuffled past. He waved with two linked hands in response.