Staffa bent over a monitor and frowned as he studied the layout of Makarta. A faint concussion shivered through the mountain. "Very well, Sinklar Fist," he whispered absently, feeling his opponent's presence through the rock. "Was that an attack? Or a ruse to use seismic exploration on our rabbit warren?"
Kaylla appeared at the corridr. She pushed through the press wearing armor, eyes grim, a blaster in one hand.
"Make room!" she called, "I want Masters only in here. In the meantime, we've got cribbing details. Give the crews a hand with the mining machinery! Someone needs to establish a medical detail. Someone else needs to see to the preparation and rationing of food. Lets go, people!"
Staffa barey heard her, his eyes on the rock overhead. Another faint concussion sounded.
"What is it, Staffa?" Kaylla asked, moving up beside him.
"Like Sylene," he whispered. "We'll fight like they did on Sylene. Mining machine against mining machine, cutng and counter-cutting. But we also have to hold tose thee entrances — he'll try and flank anytime we show weakness."
She stepped close and lowered her voice. "But we still an't win."
"No," he replied gently. "We can't win. Not this time."
Bitterness rose in her. "Everything I've ever believed in is here."
"We aren't dead yet," Bruen chided. "Staffa will think of something."
He ground his teeth, thinking of the hopelessness of the situation. An inevitable defeat awaited him here. "Ily is with Fist. Our deaths will be painful if we surrender."
"I'll die here with a blaster!" Kaylla gritted.
"There can be no thought of surrender," Bruen seconded. "To do so would condemn every Seddi alive out there. So what do we do Lord Commander?"
Staffa relished the burning anticipation in his chest. "Make them bleed for it, Magister. Staffa kar Therma does not sell his life cheaply."
"Fist always has orbital at his beck and call," Kaylla reminded. "If we hurt them too badly, Fist may simply decide to bury us. How many of those gravitational pulses can we take?"
"Two, maybe three. After that, enough of Makarta will fall in that those who aren't crused will be trapped."
Chapter 30
Sinklar paced up and down before the seismic computer readout. Here and there, white-coated mining techs huddled over glowing monitors. Sink had brought them in from the major mining companies working on Targa, and with them, he'd commandeered their best equipment. He looked out the open door of the portable field office to where the bulk of Makarta Mountain shimmered in the light of the noonday sun. Around him banks of computer equipment processed information from the geophones his LCs had strewn over the mountain.
"How much longer?"
As if in response, the portable comm began emitting a soft beep. The techs muttered to each other and one looked up. "We'll project it in the holo tank, sir."
Sinklar turned. The holo 'projector flickered slightly in red and green hues before a 3-D image formed and stabilized. The familiar outlines of Makarta Mountain hid a series of tunnels, all of which interlaced in a maze. The mountain itself projected greenly. The tunnels and shafts were portrayed in ruby red.
"Good," Sinklar praised, leaning forward to see better. "So, here, here, and here are their only surface entrances. How about the collapsed portions of their escape tunnels?"
"We have a three kilometer block in the Kaspa line," a tech told him. "A section six point five k long has fallen in the Vespa line while almost nine k is blocked heading to the Decker complex."
Sinklar studied the holo and considered his options. "Then they won't be getting out anytime soon?"
"I doubt it, sir." One of the engineers from 6-J Mining
Cop. scratched his head. "That's all loose roof-fall — you'd have to crib and shore as you went or it would all fall in."
Sinklar enjoyed a flush of success as he turned back to the battle comm. "Mac, you there?"
"Here, Sink," Mac's voice returned.
"Any movement?"
"None. We haven't even drawn a shot. Pretty confident, aren't they?"
Sinklar rapped his knuckles on the door frame as he considered Makarta Mountain. "Maybe. Let's draw a response, see whether they're confident or demoralized. Have three Sections hammer the entrances and make an advance. Remind them to be careful, Mac. Pull the rest of our people up on that shoulder of the mountain. From here, it looks like that's the best bet for a quick and easy tunnel in. We'll establish a camp there."
"Affirmative. We're on the way Sink."
Sinklar turned to the mining tech. "That would be your recommendation, wouldn't it?"
The man came over to the holo. He indicated a spot close to the one Sinklar was considering. "We can drift right through here." He looked over his shoulder. "Pahl, show us the geology."
Varicolored images rippled into existence in the holo. "What you see here," the tech explained, "is the actual geologic structure of the mountain. Yellow represents faults, while the deeper greens are solid portions of the native rock. The blue lobes are intrusive basalts. From where you want to enter, we won't have any trouble. See? There are no unstable stretches which will need shoring and it's only about fifty meters into their upper gallery."
"That's a pretty good sized space," Sinklar stepped around the image and indicated a lower gallery. "How about here? This little tunnel off to the side? Less chance of our stumbling into anyone. Not only that, but my people can split up. This route leads down as well as up into the main gallery."
The tech bent his head around to peer at the image as his trained eye read the structure of the mountain. "Sure, we'll change the angle, bypass this fault here, wouldn't want any gouge — uh, loose stuff — shifting into the drift. No problem, it's only a hundred meters."
"How long will it take?"
"You know how big a tunnel you want?" The tech looked at him and spread his
arms wide. "The bigger the bore, the longer it takes. That's a lot of rock to melt, cut, and muck. Also, bigger means less stable if you're planning on shooting in there."
"And smaller means disadvantages tactically," Sinklar reminded. "You're the expert, what do you recommend?"
The man rubbed the back of his neck, face lined with a frown. "One and a half meters wide by two meters tall?" He lifted an eyebrow.
"Two meters by two meters," Sinklar countered, nervous at the restrictions. "How long?"
The engineer looked over his shoulder again.
Pahl had already fed the data into the poable computer. "Seven hours," he called back.
"Go!" Sinklar ordered.
He studied the mountain warren of the Seddi again as the techs bent over their machines. Outside the portable office, a whining sound commenced as one of the heavy mining machines began crawling its way to the mountain shelf.
He turned and waked out to stare at the blood-red rays of the setting sun. His scalp prickled, as though he could feel Gretta's loving blue eyes staring down at him.
"Then you think there's a chance?" Kaylla looked up from where she, Staffa, and Bruen poured over a planview of Makarta. The air in the small room practically crackled with tension and the irregular rock walls pressed down upon Staffa. The light overhead illuminated motes of dust that drifted up from the wooden table and the map that covered it. The wooden furniture surrounding the table showed evidence of years of use. A crowd of Initiates hovered around the peripheries, listening anxiously.
Staffa pulled at his beard, gray eyes on the schematic. "It depends. I think it's a way to keep them from using orbital to knock us out. Provided we can get them into the right circumstances." He began to outline his ideas.