Mac stopped as a whisper ran through the ranks, elbows jabbing, heads turning.
A hot bellow of rage died on Mac's lips as he followed their stares, seeing the familiar skinny figure of Sinklar Fist walking toward them, head back as if to view the ominous heavens, mop of black hair tossing in the night breeze.
The gimlet-eyed cocky stare of his troops had changed to one of eager anticipation. Like children they gaped, wideeyed, cheeks flushing with color.
Mac took a breath and nodded, knowing the feeling. Sinklar walked closer, eyes still raised, his concentration evident under the white-hot glare of the spots. He seemed so small — almost gawky — but an aura of power seemed to radiate from that narrow-boned frame.
Mac's mouth went dry. Could this really be the fumbly kid he'd made the Kaspa drop with that night so long ago? What had happened to that doe-eyed undernourished youth? Here, before them, walked a hero.
Sinklar stopped and looked around as if he'd just noticed them. And the mystical awe vanished from the eyes of the troops as backs stiffened, stomachs tightened, and eyes stared straight forward. They were warriors now, every inch, every drop of blood in their veins — professionals.
Mac had seen it before: men and women changed by a simple glance from Sinklar. What strange power in those eyes — one yellow, one gray — to mold and inspire like that.
Sinklar nodded absently, a tired smiSe on his lips as he looked at them. His high voice carried in the night, most uncommanding — yet it held them pinned in place. "We dropped here to stop a rebellion by the Seddi." He turned sideways to the light and stamped his foot. "Well, my friends, we have them!"
A shift of breeze moved through the ranks.
"We all loved Gretta Artina. She fought with us, bled with us, stumbled under the load with us," Sinklars voice lanced them with pain and a feeling of injustice. "Except Gretta wasn't the only one, was she? No, each and every one of you have watched a friend, a lover, a companion die in fear and pain. We've been exploded with blasters, sliced with lasers, and torn with pulse fire. We've died in flames and darkness, gravity flux, and by the knife. Yet we still
stand, and the evil that brought us here awaits the final conflict."
He stepped up to a young man who quivered at his proximity, eyes shining
in the actinic glare. "So we go now. go to finish this before we return to Rega." Sinklar patted the flushed young man. "Down there," he cried, "you will be alone in the blackness. Alone in the Seddi tunnels with your tormentors!" His voice dropped. "You know what to do, my veterans."
Sinklar paced down the line, hands locked behind his back. "But I promise you this! Each and every one of you will be accounted for before we leave this godforsaken rock! Accounted for if I have to turn this planet upside down— because I want you alive. I… I need you all." His voice grew husky. "I'm so proud of you all." Sinklar turned then and walked away into the darkness.
For several seconds they watched him disappearing back toward his LC. The cheer came spontaneously, rattling the very rocks. MacRuder barely realized his own voice had oined the swell of sound.
Mac bit back a knot in his throat and wiped at the burning in his eyes. By the Holy Rotted Gods, here was a man to follow!
"All right, people!" he thundered, overcoming their bright enthusiasm. "Come on! We got a job to finish here!"
Mac motioned with his hand, seeing First Section trot toward the narrow gash the mining machine had cut into the mountain.
"IR!" Mac growled.
They flicked on the infrared units on their helmets as they moved to the hole. Along the right wall, the mucking pipe and the water line ran. IR showed the remaining hot spots in the rock.
Mac started forward, heart stuttering at the bottom of his throat. "You all know the drill, follow me."
He stepped into the tunnel, surprised at how smooth the machine had cut it. At a dogtrot, he moved forward with the heavy blaster tugging on its clip. Newly strung overhead lights illuminated the way. His armored feet clacked on unforgiving rock.
The lights of the machine shone brightly on angles of
yellow-painted metal and railing, black hydraulic hoses, and whirring cutter arms. The machine was anything but quiet.
So much for surprise.
A dirt-streaked tech with black hair swung down from a cramped seat where he watched the muck feeding into the evacuation pipe. "We think there's only another five or six meters," he hollered over the din of the machine.
Mac nodded. They waited a long fifteen minutes, standing there, a solid file of crowded warriors behind him. The bulk of the machine inched on, eating its way through solid rock.
From where he stood, Mac saw the miner's hand come up. The noise changed. Mac craned his head around the side to see a widening blackness. The machine moved faster.
His heartbeat thundered. Into the mike at his throat Mac shouted, "We're through Sink!" He swallowed. "We're not drawing any fire."
Sinklar replied calmly, "The other Sections have been hitting the Seddi exits, throwing almost everything at them. They're not making much headway. Go for it, Mac, that's all we can give you."
" 'Firmative," MacRuder muttered. Let's hope it's enough.
The mining machine had crawled out into the tunnel and now began chewing into the rock on the opposite wall. Mac allowed himself a curse and waved those behind him forward while he crawled up over the vibrating and bucking machine. He swung along the cramped crawlway and flipped over the side. He crouched, heavy blaster ready.
He searched the corridor with IR, more troops dropping behind him. "Let's go, people" he ordered, advancing step by step, seeing nothing but rock in the projected IR beams. They continued for another sixty or seventy meters, rounded comer — and met a rock wall.
"Sink?"
"Here, Mac. Your communications are still good. Report."
"We're, uh, I don't know. maybe sixty or seventy meters from the big gallery. Listen, this whole thing looks collapsed. Probably from the orbital, I don't know. Big blocks have fallen out of the roof."
Troops were packing in behind him, their breathing echoing from the narrow walls.
"Go back the other way, Mac. You've got a map. You need to drop down what
looks like three levels. That will put you on a level with the main Seddi floor. Can you see it on your map? Your tunnel should have an exit going off to the right and into that main gallery."
"Right!" Mac waved his people back, feeling curiously claustrophobic amid the pack of bodies. He looked up at the cracks running through the roof. // all that broke loose. No, don't even think it.
"Mac?" Sink's voice cracked in his ear. "Have the mining team look at that blocked section. If they think we have to shore to dig through, it's a lost cause. Otherwise, you'll have won the war before we can even get the materials on site."
"Affirmative," Mac grumbled. "Uh, the mining machine is through, the knot is breaking up. We're on the way down. We'll string comm cable as we go. They can't flank, can they?"
"Not for three levels, Mac."
Not for three levels. Okay, Sink. You've kept me alive this far. "Let's move it, people! They're eating it on the outside. Let's clean this up. I've got a dinner date in Vespa!"
Mac heard a couple of chuckles. More than anything, they were nervous at the close quarters. The mining machine had eaten into the opposite wall and shut down. MacRuder waved his people ahead while he ducked in behind the machine. "Take a look at the blocked area up there around the corner. See what you think."
The miner nodded and — taking lights and his assistants— left at a trot. Mac watched techs stringing comm cable and nodded. Person by person, armored figures tramped past, each with a map and compass in his kit. The miner returned posthaste.
"We'll have to shore that as we go. Either that or go around. Looks like a lot of faulting in there. Those blocks can slip or slide. If I had to judge, something cracked them, broke them loose."