"This doesn't sound like a single military unit," Petrel said, voice hoarse with weariness. "The rising must have split dozens of regiments along clan or parish lines… One of the lesser princes will have taken control of the forces in thisarea." He adjusted one earbug, rubbing an eye swollen by a bad cut. "This attack on the garden gate in the south – the harness and traveling cloaks on the dead sound like those worn by religious pilgrims… Rural zealots must be entering the city, looking for asuchau – the unclean – to expunge from holy Jagan."
"I see. They will be discerning, I'm sure." Kosho felt faint and tried to lie still on her pillow. The feeling of fine silk under her neck was disconcertingly at odds with the patina of dust on her coverlet and the acrid smell of burned metal and propellant hanging in the air. The banging sound of hammers resounded from the hallway where the household servants were busily fortifying the windows and doorways. At the edge of hearing, a human baby was crying hoarsely. "Do we know where kujen Bhrigu stands in all of this? Is he part of the rising, or a fellow target?"
Petrel shook his head in dismay, silver hair mussed by the events of the past two days. "He is a nervous, untrustworthy creature – ever at odds with his generals and the priests. No one trusts him either. I would wager, however, that someone is attempting to overthrow him amid all this chaos." The diplomat smiled, rather grimly. "If not, then he is hiding in the basement of his palace, waiting for the dust to settle."
Kosho sighed, wishing she'd stayed on the ship. I wanted to feel the wind on my face – and see what kind of vacation I am having. Battle reports continued to bark in her ear. Tireless dogs, tireless… "We needn't look to him for relief then." Exhausted, she made a courtly gesture of resignation to fate. "The enemy has withdrawn from the southern gate. But we will not be able to stop up the breach in the east. Not if they have another tank to send against us."
Petrel stared at her hand, surprised and a little alarmed. "Without holding the outer wall…"
"The Residence is large," Kosho replied. "Move the civilians into the basements. Once sufficient rubble has been generated to block their armor, we will be able to hold them off while we have ammunition -"
The combat channel cleared abruptly, leaving only the disgusted voice of the gunner commanding the Whipsaw on the roof shouting: Incoming aircraft! Three of them on my scope, on an attack run! We're swinging the 'saw round…
"Bah!" Kosho's rude exclamation took the Resident by surprise. "Where is our aircover? Are they jets?"
Fragmentary reports from the 416th had indicated the natives had several jet aircraft in inventory. The Sho-sa would have laughed at the futility of deploying air-breathing, turbine-powered atmospheric aircraft against Imperial forces in the field, save for her complete lack of orbital fire support to knock them down. The counter-battery guns on an APAC would do the trick as well, but she didn't have an armored personnel carrier on hand either.
No, answered the gunner. These look like prop-driven fixed-wing models.
"Antiques?" Kosho made a face. "They're emptying the pantry…" She looked at the Resident questioningly. "Have we sold the kujen any antique propeller-driven aircraft?"
Petrel shook his head. "Not that I've heard of…"
Kosho tapped up the helmet feed from the gunners on the roof. Three heat-emission signatures appeared in the relayed feed, stark against a cold pre-dawn sky. They swung into a banking turn, heading straight for the Legation. She automatically reached for her comp, intending to call up a recog soft and then stifled a curse – Helsdon had borrowed her command comp to drive his communications relay.
Heicho Felix picked her way down a rubble-strewn ramp and hissed in alarm as a body appeared in the light of her hand-lamp. The chief machinist's mate was sprawled on the landing, one arm twisted beneath his body, scalp and face streaked with blood.
"Helsdon?" The Marine knelt down, shoving broken bricks out of her way. "Can you hear me?" Gently, she turned the body, lips tight to see the older man's head fall limply to one side. Felix tugged back his uniform jacket sleeve, exposing his medband.
The silver band was a mixture of amber and crimson, but he was breathing.
"Not dead yet," Felix breathed in relief. She wiped blood out of his eyes with the edge of her hand. "You and the Sho-sa will make a fine pair in medical bay together. But at least Isoroku won't stripe my hide bloody for getting you killed."
Grunting, the Marine heaved the engineer up onto her shoulders. Goddamn, she thought, straining to lift his body, bones like lead! He doesn't look this heavy…
A resounding boom! shook the tower, precipitating more rubble to cascade down the ramp and nearly knocked Felix from her feet. Swaying, she leaned against the wall, tapping her comm awake. "What the hell was that?"
Got two more tanks coming through the breach! Carlyle bawled on the channel.We're out of here! Whipsaw to anti-armor, Kosho's voice followed, cutting clear and cold through the Marine's panic. Ignore the aircraft for the moment. Kill that armor, in the breach if you can. Felix swore, shrugged the engineer into a slightly less uncomfortable carry, and waddled down the ramp as fast as she could. The opening onto to the retaining wall was only meters away and she turned sideways in the narrow doorway. Outside, the night was alive with the crash of heavy guns, the rattling sound of small arms and the clanking rumble of armor treads chewing more brick to dust. Intermittent tracer fire jagged into the sky. Burning vegetation lit the stones of the wall with a ruddy, orange glow. Craning her neck, she stared down into the gardens.
Sure enough, two more of the flat-turreted tanks ground noisily through the ornamental trees. A fresh attack out of the breach had developed while she'd been inside – this time the slicks were sending the armor first, with the infantry holding back and scuttling from cover to cover.
Sure are a lot of them, she thought with a sinking feeling. A couple hundred this time…
A sharp basso droning sound overhead made her turn. "What the -"
Her visor adjusted, scanning the pitch-black sky. The image changed tone and hue, and three cross-shaped aircraft roared over the Legation. Felix blanched, goggling at the antiques winging towards her, and took off at a run for the next tower on the wall.
The Whipsaw on the roof of the Residence shrieked. A hard white streak of light intersected the first of the prop-driven planes and the machine shattered in a violent burst of flame. Debris rained down, trailing smoke and flames. The other two planes broke away from their attack run, dumping their bomb loads.
Cease fire! Kosho barked on the channel. Kill the tanks first!
Four heavy black canisters plummeted out of the night sky and crashed through the canopy of leaves spreading over the garden. One bomb bounced up, skidded across a lawn of short-cropped grass and plowed through a clutch of scattering Jehanan soldiers. There was a bright spark in the darkness as a phosphorus igniter cooked off.