Vosberh saluted skeptically and turned away.
"What is that supposed to be. Sergeant?" Mathias asked, staring up at the wood-plas-concrete assemblage in front of him.
"Yon contraption's ae fiendish thingie, Captain," Alex said. "A' tha' Ah'm supposit t' tell ye is it's som'at nae longer needs t' exist. Ye're trained noo, Captain. Takit y'r squad an' destroy yon device."
Mathias scowled but obediently shouldered the demopack filled with plas bricks weighted to simulate demo charges and cord that simulated fusing and primacord.
He motioned his squad forward and, as Alex stepped back, they swarmed up the structure, hesitating at certain key points to lay "demo charges" and connect the fusing and primacord.
Alex checked his stopwatch and grudgingly admitted to himself that even fanatics can be good. The mockup was actually one of the tube-latches that the raid was intended to destroy on Urich.
Mathias and his men dropped off the structure and doubled up to Alex. Mathias and one other man were trailing simulated det fuse. Not even breathing hard, Mathias snapped to a halt and saluted.
"Well, Sergeant?"
"Ah reckit y'r times fair," Alex said. "Noo. Twicet more an' ye'll hae i' doon pat. Then, t'night, w' comit back an' run th' drill again. Wi'oot light."
The landing field was scattered with more of these practice structures, and, on each of them, a mixed group of mercenaries and Mathias' Companions rehearsed what they would have to be able to do drunk, wounded, gassed, or blind when the strike force hit Urich.
Otho's howls of rage were moderately awesome, Sten realized, listening to the Bhor rage on about what had been done to his trading lighters.
"Armor! Projectile cannon! Shields! Chem protection! By my mother's beard, have you any idea how long it will take us to reconvert our lighters to useful configuration?"
"Don't worry about it, Otho," Sten said. "Probably we'll all die on Urich and then there won't be any problems."
"Och," Otho agreed, brightening and slugging Sten on the back. "By my grandsire's womb, I never thought about that. Shall we share some stregg on the thought. Colonel?"
"Mathias?"
"Six hundred trained men, present, ready."
"Vosberh?"
"We're ready."
"Fflllips?"
"All teams trained, aware of targets, ready for commitment."
"Egan?"
"Intelligence, ECM, sensors all on standby."
"Sergeant Kilgour?"
"No puh-roblems," Alex purred.
"Order group number one," Sten said. "All troops are restricted to base camp area, effective immediately. You may inform your troops that Parrel's units are patrolling our perimeter with instructions to shoot on sight any soldiers attempting to take French leave.
"We board ship in two days. I expect all men to be fully converted to all-protein diet, water-packed, and all equipment to be double-checked and shock-packed. We will board ship when Mathias and I return from Sanctus.
"That is all, gentlemen."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
STEN STOOD AT full attention before the tiny altar in the Prophet's study. Next to him was Mathias. Theodomir was chanting a steady stream of prayers and waving the incense wand to all points of the compass.
Finally he approached Sten himself and stopped in front of him. "Who brings the candidate?" he intoned.
"I do," Mathias answered.
"Have the proper purification rites been performed?"
"They have."
"And has this man proven himself worthy of Talamein and all we hold holy?"
"This I swear," Mathias said.
"Kneel," the Prophet commanded.
Sten did.
Theodomir touched the wand lightly to each of Sten's shoulders, then stepped back. "Rise, O Faithful One. Rise as a Soldier of Talamein."
Sten barely had time to climb to his feet before Theodomir had palmed the switch that slid the little altar out of sight. The Prophet slopped a chalice full of wine and guzzled it down. Sten thought he caught a quickly masked flash of distaste from Mathias.
"Drink, Colonel, drink," the Prophet said. "An honor like this does not come every day."
Sten nodded his thanks and poured himself a cup of wine and sipped at it.
Theodomir beamed and rubbed two hands together. "Tell me, Colonel. What runs through a soldier's nand on the eve of battle?"
Sten smiled. "As little as possible."
The Prophet nodded in what he thought was understanding. "Yes, I imagine all thoughts would be of an earthly nature. Thoughts of the flesh. Personally, as your spiritual leader, I could not agree more.
"And Colonel, a little advice. Man to man. I know that there are any number of young women, or... ahem... men... on Sanctus who would be willing to share your last hours."
Again Sten thought he caught a faint look of displeasure from
Mathias. "Thank you for your advice, Excellency." Then, after a moment: "Now, if you will excuse me, sir, I have many things to do."
The Prophet laughed and waved his dismissal. "Go to it, Colonel. Go to it."
Sten bowed, saluted, wheeled, and exited. Theodomir's smile vanished as the doors hissed closed, and he looked thoughtful. "You know," he mused to his son, "that could be a very dangerous man."
"I assure you," Mathias protested, "he is fully committed to our cause."
"Still," the Prophet said. "During the heat of battle, if you should have the opportunity..."
Mathias was appalled. "What are you saying, Father?"
The Prophet's eyes bored into him, reminding the young man of his place. Mathias stood nervously, but with a determined expression on his face. Finally the Prophet chortled and refilled his wine cup. "Just a thought. I'll take your word on Colonel Sten's dedication."
Then he waved his son away, and Mathias left. The Prophet began chuckling, drank down his wine and poured more.
"You have a great deal to learn, my son. A great deal indeed."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
URICH WAS AS well designed and laid out as any Imperial Guards Division depot. It was the only development on an otherwise deserted world. From two hundred kilometers overhead, it looked like an enormous U. At the open end of the U was shallow ocean, useful for engine testing, a fixed approach pattern, and also, of course, a "soft" place for crash landings.
At the curve of the U lay the shipyard itself and, at its center, the enormous bulk of the engine-hull mating plant. Alongside that plant were the machine shops, shielded and bunkered chem-fuel dumps, steel mills, and so forth.
Along one side of the U were docked the major elements of the Jann fleet—a few former Imperial cruisers, some rebuilt light destroyers, and a host of small in-atmosphere and patrol ships. Plus, of course, the necessary support craft—tankers, shopships, ECM ships, and so forth.
On the other side of the U were endless kilometers of bar racks for the Jann troops when they were off-ship. As the raiding force approached Urich, there were approximately nine thousand Jann on Urich, an equivalent number of yard workers and yard security, and General Suitan Khorea, the commanding general.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
OTHO WATCHED THE screen time-tick seconds until dropaway with half his attention. The other half was listening to the droned story from behind him, coming from the humanoid that Otho sometimes found himself wishing to be a Bhor:
"Ahe," Alex went on. "S' th' Brit gin'ral hae order't ae squad up tha' hill f 'r Red Rory's head. An' aye, a pickit squad wan' roarin' upit tha' hill.