The city administration had done its part, though. It had sufficiently restricted the flow of supplies to create an inspirational feeling of scarcity. It was this move that gave the black market the space to flourish.
In all ways, Litz seemed ready to face the invaders.
And then they arrived. As usual, the dive bombers of A.A. Catto’s crack Vulture Legion went in first. The rapidly organized owners of Litz’s private aircraft took to the skies to face them in machines that had been hastily converted to a military role. The Litz air corps met the attacks with swaggering, if poorly organized, bravado. To their surprise, the Vulture Legion was totally routed, and retired to lick its wounds. A.A. Catto’s air force had never encountered resistance and had no contingency plans to deal with it. The flying cowboys from Litz quickly made mincemeat of the sinister black dive bombers.
On the ground, things were far more grim. An army of flamboyant defenders had gone out to meet A.A. Catto’s ground troops. They had been deftly massacred. The city was swiftly encircled. The only thing that stopped the armies of Quahal moving in for the kill was the desperate fight put up by a less picturesque but more efficient force drawn primarily from the Litz Department of Correction. Even so, both sides were well aware that it was only a matter of time before the city finally fell.
One of the cops turned soldier was Section Commander Bannion. He was in charge of a three kilometre strip of the city’s perimeter. Bannion, like the rest of the Litz Defence Corps, was feeling himself being crushed under the knowledge of eventual certain defeat.
Bannion sat in the rest room of the defence HQ. It had originally been the drunk tank of the hastily converted L.D.C. downtown station. The tank and cells were being used as accommodation for the soldiers.
Bannion sat with his thick set body hunched. He stared vacantly at the dirty white tiles of the opposite wall. He was totally withdrawn into himself. He hadn’t bothered to shave for three days. His olive drab battle fatigues were creased and filthy. He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. His eyes looked dark and sunken in the harsh glare of the naked tubes. The only clean object was the 27 mm automatic carbine propped up beside him.
Most of the men in the Defence Corps had started letting themselves go. They’d stopped washing and shaving. Defeat and almost certain death were too close to make it worth bothering any more.
Bannion cursed quietly to himself. The sound of a man crying came from one of the cells. It was all breaking down so fast. Bannion had just come back from a patrol. He had gone out with twenty men and come back with twelve. He felt impotent and helpless. It was a feeling that he couldn’t adjust to. In the Department of Correction he had always taken pride in being on top of things. His major pleasure had been the certainty of his power.
A weary looking orderly came into the tank. He didn’t bother to salute.
‘The captain wants to see you.’
Bannion noted dully that the orderly had reverted to the old police ranks. They’d all been given smart new titles when the Defence Corps had been formed, but these seemed to be dropping away. Bannion slowly stood up.
‘Is he up in his office?’
The orderly nodded.
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay.’
Bannion picked up his carbine and followed the orderly out of the tank. He took his time climbing the stairs. When he reached the captain’s office he pushed open the door without knocking.
‘You wanted me?’
Captain Dante Schultz sat hunched over a battered steel desk. He looked as rough as Bannion. The only light came from a single desk lamp. It illuminated some papers, a map and a half empty bottle of whisky. Schultz rubbed his eyes and nodded at a rickety upright chair.
‘Siddown.’
Bannion glanced round the small dim office. He briefly thought of all the nights he had sat with Schultz, consuming whisky, coffee, delicatessen sandwiches and pills. It seemed like those days had gone for good. He dropped into the chair. It creaked under his weight. Schultz grinned crookedly at him.
‘You want to hear the latest from the city administration?’
Bannion shook his head.
‘Not particularly.’
Schultz shuffled his papers.
‘You’re going to, anyway.’
Bannion grunted. Schultz picked up a bundle of buff sheets.
‘I won’t read it all to you.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ll just give you the main points.’
Schultz paused. Bannion raised a tired eyebrow.
‘You looking for a response, already?’
Schultz sighed.
‘The city fathers are surprised at our lack of success in containing the invaders’ ground forces. They are setting up an investigation.’
Bannion spat.
‘They’re surprised, are they? They should send their fucking investigators on patrol with my outfit. They’ll find out how come we ain’t “containing the invaders’ ground forces”. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. They’ve got the numbers and the fire power.’
Schultz shrugged.
‘I know that.’
‘So tell the city fathers to go screw.’
‘They also want us to carry out a retaliatory strike against the home base of the enemy.’
Bannion stared at Schultz in disbelief.
‘Tell them to doubly go screw. It’s not possible.’
Schultz looked down at the papers on his desk.
‘We’re going to do it.’
‘You’re out of your mind.’
‘In fact, you’re going to do it.’
Bannion’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward across the desk. His voice was very soft.
‘Just what the fuck are you talking about, Schultz?’
‘Captain Schultz.’
‘Just tell me about it, will you?’
Schultz sighed.
‘According to our intelligence reports this invasion is being directed from an area known as Quahal.’
‘So what’s Quahal?’
‘Precisely, Quahal is a mountain and a river valley. In the valley there is a ziggurat.’
‘What the hell is a ziggurat?’
‘It’s a kind of pyramid.’
‘And that’s where this invasion is being controlled from, a kind of pyramid?’
Schultz nodded.
‘From a deep bunker built underneath it, to be totally accurate.’
‘And what am I supposed to do about all this?’
Schultz took a deep breath.
‘The plan is that you take a small force directly to Quahal. Fight your way into the bunker, destroy as much of the control equipment and kill as many of the command staff as possible.’
‘Simple as that?’
‘Right.’
‘That’s just dandy.’
‘I can go into details.’
Bannion looked at Shultz bleakly.
‘Before you do, let me ask you one question.’
‘What?’
‘Supposing we actually do all this, how do we get away afterwards?’
‘That’ll be up to you.’
Bannion smiled grimly.
‘So it’s a suicide mission?’
Schultz looked evenly at him.
‘I didn’t say that.’
Bannion’s face twisted into a sneer,
‘You’re a chintzy bastard.’
‘Bannion, I’m warning you …’
‘Work it!’
‘Bannion!’
‘Okay, okay. Just don’t jive me. I don’t need it.’
‘This mission could be our only hope.’
‘So tell me the details.’
‘Where do you want to start?’
‘How do we get there?’
‘There’s an airship from one of the rental companies being armed and specially equipped for a journey through the nothings.’
‘What do we do when we get there? Have you got plans of this bunker? The defence system? The entrances? That kind of thing?’
Schultz sadly shook his head.