Voss had assumed that the machines couldn’t operate at night. He was wrong. That became apparent when a drone with a four-foot wingspan swooped in and fired a single shot. The pilot, who was stationed hundreds of miles to the southwest and was “looking” at the scene via a satellite relay, missed the man he was aiming for. But the bullet hit the townie’s horse, which reared and threw him off. Then, maddened by the pain, the animal galloped down the ravine.
As the first aircraft disappeared into the darkness, another attacked. The motor produced a high-pitched whine as the drone bore in from the south, only this time Hollings was ready for it. As the machine came into range, he and another townie fired their shotguns. The aircraft exploded as it ran into a cloud of lead pellets. Pieces of hot shrapnel flew in every direction. A chunk of metal hit one of the scouts in the temple and killed him instantly. A townie was wounded.
Meanwhile, all hell was breaking loose to the north as the townies launched an attack on the Ronin. That was good, but not good enough, as Voss learned when a horse and rider skidded down into the ravine. Voss could barely make him out in the gloom. “They’re on to us, sir. A whole lot of Ronin are coming this way.”
“How many?”
“It’s too dark to tell, sir. Fifteen? Twenty? Something like that.”
“Tether your horses,” Voss shouted. “Get up on the edge of the ravine. Prepare to fire, but wait for my command.”
Kovo ordered the wounded man to remain with the horses as the rest of them scrambled up the slope. The element of surprise had been lost, so the fuel truck was out of reach now. Voss knew that. All he could do was try to discourage pursuit and make a run for it.
There was a thunder of hooves as the Ronin came closer. They were determined to catch up with the raiding party before it could escape. So they rode hard, saw the edge of the ravine, and were starting to rein their horses in when Voss shouted, “Fire!”
Tongues of flame stabbed the night. Horses screamed as shotgun pellets struck them. The rattle of assault weapons was a sharp counterpoint to the overlapping booms that the shotguns made as the townies opened fire. Horses went down, Ronin were blown out of their saddles, and screams added to the din.
But the battle wasn’t one-sided. Slugs threw up divots of dirt all around, and the man next to Voss fell as he gave another order. “Grenades!”
Bombs flew through the air, exploded among the enemy, and cut the survivors down. “Back to the horses!” Voss shouted. “We’re pulling out.”
They rode hard. And even though Voss feared that one or more drones would swoop out of the darkness, none did. Maybe the machines were being employed elsewhere—or maybe there was a limited number of them. Whatever the reason, the raiders were able to make their way back to Geneva without suffering additional casualties.
A cluster of old buildings had been taken over and were being used as a makeshift headquarters. A bedroom in an old house had been prepared for Voss’s use. It was furnished with campaign-style furniture including a bed. After splashing some water onto his face and eating a sliced beef sandwich, Voss went out to make the rounds.
The cavalry company had paid a heavy price, and since Voss had been forced to abort the raid, the deaths were for nothing. Only sixteen of the hundred men had survived, and half of them were wounded. They were quartered in an old barn, and Voss made a point of speaking with each and every one of them before meeting with Kovo, then falling into bed.
The knocking sound came seconds later. Or that was the way it seemed, until a glance at his watch confirmed that more than two hours had passed. And the sun was up, judging from the light that was leaking in between the hastily hung curtains. Voss sat up. “Come in.”
Kovo entered the room, hat in hands. “Sorry to bother you, sir… but I have news.”
Voss put his feet on the floor. “What kind?”
“Both kinds, sir. The good news is that the missile launchers arrived. I sent them up to the gun positions.”
“Excellent,” Voss said as he pulled his pants on. “And the bad news?”
“The enemy tractors are pushing forward with the Ronin right behind them.”
Voss buttoned his shirt. “And the drones?”
“There have been a dozen sightings.”
“So Hashi knows about the cavalry units positioned east and west?”
Kovo nodded. “Yes, sir. The Ronin sent cavalry to protect their flanks.”
Voss buckled the gun rig around his waist. “How about the howitzers? Does Hashi know about those?”
“No, sir. Not so far as I know.”
“Well, that’s good news. Not that it matters. The element of surprise would be nice, but it isn’t critical. Have someone fetch Odin.”
“He’s ready, sir.”
“Thank you. And one more thing. Let’s take Miss Silverton with us.”
Half an hour later, Voss, Sara, and a small party of mercs were stationed on top of a knoll, where, thanks to a bright green flag, the townies, gun crews, Ronin, and drones could see them. The fact that they were on horseback made the group that much more visible.
The gesture was part bravado and part common sense. The idea was to encourage the townies, show the gunners what to avoid, and provide Voss with a good view. The drones could attack, but if they did, Voss was counting on mercs to keep the machines at bay. “So,” Voss said as the black tractors entered the maze of traps that cut across the valley. “How will the battle go?”
Sara was wearing a custom-made outfit that consisted of a frothy white blouse, a brown jacket, tan riding pants, and knee-high boots. The chains weren’t practical in that situation. And there was little chance of escape, since a merc had hold of the twenty-foot-long tether that was connected to Sara’s horse. She squinted into the harsh sunlight. “I told you. Thunder will roll, a steel rain will fall, and blood will flow like a river.”
“That’s obvious,” Voss responded. “Kovo could make that prediction.”
Sara turned to look at him. Her eyes were slightly out of focus. A gust of wind tugged at her hair. “You will win, and you will lose. That is all I can see.”
Voss was about to respond when a merc shouted, “Here they come,” and Voss brought the binoculars up to his eyes. From a distance, the Ronin seemed to rise and fall like waves in a sea of black. There were at least a thousand of them, many with swords waving in the air. Voss spoke without lowering the glasses. “Send the cavalry in.”
In spite of what had occurred the night before, the townies were brave. Voss had to give them that. Or were they afraid of him? Not that it mattered. Out they went, cutting into the ranks of Ronin waiting to face them, firing as they rode. The knoll was at least a mile from the melee, but Voss could hear the crackle of gunfire and see swords flashing in the sun.
The Ronin on the east side of the valley gave under the weight of the assault, a hole opened, and the townies poured in. Voss said, “No!” but it was too late. The hole closed, and the townies were surrounded and effectively cut to pieces.
The action on the west side of the gap was different. The townies rode in, slid off their horses, and began to fire from cover as teenage boys led their horses to the rear. The black-clad Ronin went down in successive waves as they rode into the hail of bullets, and Voss knew why. Hollings was in command—a man worth recruiting if he survived.
Meanwhile the rest of the Ronin, at least five hundred of them, were going straight up the middle. They looked like an army of black ants as columns of riders followed scouts through a maze of ditches and pits. Voss turned to Kovo. “Order the guns to fire.”
Kovo spoke into a microphone. A minute passed. Then a loud boom was heard, followed by another, and one more. Widely separated puffs of smoke appeared in the hills off to the west. As they passed over Voss’s head, the shells made shrieking sounds, followed by thunderous booms as they landed. Columns of dirt mixed with dimly seen bodies, and parts of bodies shot up into the air as two rounds fell in among the Ronin. The third fell short and exploded harmlessly. “Tell that gunner to correct his aim, or I will go up there and shoot him,” Voss said grimly.