"Nice," Brim commented.
"All in the setup, Lieutenant," Fragonard said modestly.
Nearby, a Leaguer in a black suit had begun to emerge from one of the tanks. He stopped to peer at the empty space, turned for one quick glance at the glowing disruptor on Brim's fieldpiece, then disappeared again into the hatch.
Brim lifted the squelch from the amplifiers. "Surrender, or we blast you all to atoms," he broadcast in Vertrucht. "As you can see, we've learned a thing or two about your cannon."
Silence.
"Four archestrals remain for your answer, fools," he said. "Then we destroy you." That gave them two full cycles to make up their minds.
An amplifier clicked on at the black-suited Leaguer's tank. "Another shot from those fieldpieces, and we kill our prisoners, Imperial fool," a metallic voice warned.
"So?" Brim inquired imperiously.
Surprised silence ensued. "Well...ah...you know," the metallic voice said lamely. "We kill all these Imperial prisoners we have captured. Including your Colonel Hagbut. Make no mistake, Imperial. We mean what we say!"
"Of course you do," Brim said laconically. "But that really doesn't have much effect on me—or my mission."
"What do you mean?"
"Listen, hab'thall," Brim chuckled into the amplifier, "my orders say to bring back the six personnel carriers you've got parked on the apron—they're expensive. We can get soldiers anywhere, and of course we've got to shoot old Hagbut anyway for getting himself captured." He looked at his timepiece.
"You've got two archestrals left."
More silence. Finally, the voice came again from the tank. "You say you can replace the soldiers anywhere?"
"Well, of course, fool—just like you," Brim answered. He knew he had them now. "You kill those prisoners and we bring the personnel carriers back empty—with you dead, of course. Otherwise..."
"O-Otherwise?"
"Well, you certainly must know that," Brim answered. "Otherwise, we blow up your tanks without you in them. Either way, we get what we came for, understand?"
"Yes...I ah, understand."
"I was pretty sure you would," Brim said. "All right. Time's up. What'll it be? We have a busy day ahead of us." Above his head, he watched the big disruptor index toward the next enemy tank. "Ready..."
he broadcast. "Aim...!" The other disruptors indexed slightly.
"We capitulate! Don't shoot!" the metallic voice screeched, this time in broken Imperial Avalonian.
"We capitulate!"
Suddenly, the A'zurnians and the Imperial prisoners in the pit erupted into wild cheering. Brim took a deep breath, hoped his voice wasn't shaking too noticeably, then spoke again into the amplifier. "Very well," he broadcast. "Then I want those tanks of yours emptied immediately. Everybody out. Weapons on the ground in front of you. I'm sending the A'zurnians to make sure none of you retain any surprises."
He watched the cheering ex-hostages pile off the fieldpieces and hobble toward the tanks—all of which were soon open, crews standing forlornly before them, weapons in the hands of their former A'zurnian captives. Brim silently wondered bow many of the Leaguers would be alive by the time the sun set. The lucky ones, he concluded, would not be among them.
"And I've given the personnel carriers to the A'zurnian underground as well, Colonel Hagbut," Brim explained. "They'll take them over immediately with the Leaguer tanks, then send crews with us on the run to Magalla'ana so they can drive these fieldpieces back when we ship out." Two ragged A'zurnians stood quietly at the rear of the control cabin.
Hagbut's eyes narrowed for a moment—Brim could almost swear he heard clockwork clattering nearby, then the man's face broke into a wide grin. He put a fatherly arm around Brim's shoulders and thumped him on the back. "You make me PROUD of you, boy," he roared. "I KNEW you had it in you when I put you in charge. I shall write a favorable memorandum on your behalf."
Brim felt his eyebrows raise—along with his hackles a half-stifled snort issued from Barbousse at the COMM cabinet.
"I shall tell my high command that the success of the mission is actually a tribute to the fine training I received at old Darkhurst Academy," Hagbut continued, striking a heroic pose.
He turned to address the A'zurnians. "This accomplishment, gentlemen, is merely the latest in the unbroken series of military victories which mark my career." He indicated Brim with his free hand—as if the Carescrian were his personal prodigy. "I provided this talented young man with the proper equipment for his task, instructed him as to mission parameters, then COMMANDED him until I could no longer physically command. Once properly instructed and equipped, he merely followed my lead to insure the success of the mission." He turned again to Brim. "Yes, young man," he said, "I shall write, a highly favorable memorandum concerning your part in this successful operation. YOU FOLLOW ORDERS WELL!"
"Four-metacycle departure warning from Prosperous, Lieutenant Brim," Barbousse interrupted in a choked voice.
Brim winked at the big rating, then turned to Hagbut. "Perhaps we should consider starting out for Magalla'ana, Colonel," he suggested. "Took us a bit more than three metacycles to drive here in the first place, and we left a real mess to negotiate at the end of that high suspension bridge."
They both stopped to watch the BATTLE COMMs hoisting a Fleet battle pennant to the top of the KA'PPA tower where it fluttered lazily just below the transmitter—more magic courtesy of Barbousse.
Hagbut nodded his head and glared out of the corner of his eye. Then he took a deep breath. "All right," he conceded. "Lieutenant Brim, you may broadcast orders for my men to mount the fieldpieces immediately."
They only just made it. When Brim's steam-breathing fieldpieces charged into the pickup zone with battle flags flying, they became the last vehicles to return at all. The whole area was littered with abandoned equipment, most of it showing clear evidence that other segments of the raid also met with serious opposition. Only one large shuttle remained idling in the center of the lift-off area, crewmen at both hatches beckoning frantically with their arms.
"I think they want us to hurry," Barbousse said as be braked the big machine to a halt.
"So do I," Brim agreed. "If that League fleet is still on schedule, Anak and his battlecruisers can't be too far away anymore." He switched on the amplifiers. "End of the line, gentlemen," he announced to Hagbut's soldiers. "Everyone into the shuttle over there—on the double!" Instantly; the men began clambering to the ground. Hagbut was out of the control cab before Brim had even stopped speaking and led the sprint across the field. "Don't stop for anything," the Carescrian added, chuckling—then he turned to the pair of gaunt A'zurnians who would take his fieldpiece back into the hills.
One wore the battered tricornered hat of a highly placed A'zurnian nobleman, the other was totally bald with a huge red welt from his prominent nose to his right ear. Both were filthy and disheveled. Their wings had been cruelly snapped from their backs, ripped away, leaving long, ragged blades that moved slowly—and uselessly—while they talked. Except for a few facial differences, they were alike as twins, he thought with a twinge of pity. But then, emaciated people all tended to look alike. He had discovered that long ago in Carescria sunken cheeks, joints swollen, dressed in tattered rags that hung in shreds from their bony frames. Yet in these hollow eyes burned sparks of hope and deep bitter anger. These wrathful men would soon make implacable enemies for the conquerors of A'zurn. No fear of death remained among them. Each long ago relinquished all hope for his life.