As the quads and Ganthas continued to trade earthshaking blows, the T-2s and Haba attack sleds dashed in and out, using their larger cousins for cover. Meanwhile, in the midst of the surrounding madness, a battle within a battle was under way.
Having claimed a slight rise as her own, the Warrior Queen was putting on a fearsome display of what her Kathong body was capable of. Not only could it take repeated hits from a variety of weaponry, it had considerable offensive capability as well. That could be seen as she fired green energy bolts from the trident clenched in her scorpion-like tail. The blasts were powerful enough to destroy anything less than a Gantha tank. But it took thirty seconds to recharge her accumulators, so it was necessary that she defend herself with the machine guns built into her tool arms between salvos.
The Warrior Queen would have been overrun, though, along with the rest of her party, had it not been for Santana and his platoon of legionnaires. They formed a cordon around the rise and were kept very busy. And as the radio message came in, Santana was starting to worry. There had been casualties. Lots of them. And the bugs kept coming. “Orbital Control to RAM Six,” a voice said in his ear. “An enemy ship is closing on your position from the west. The Dags are trying to shoot it down but no luck so far. We think they plan to crash it on top of you. Over.”
Santana looked west, but the incoming ship hadn’t broken the horizon yet. “This is RAM Six. Roger, that. But how would they pick us out of the crowd? Over.”
“We believe they are homing in on the signals being broadcast from the vid cams,” came the answer. “We recommend that you destroy them immediately. Over.”
Santana looked at the Warrior Queen, saw that three of what had been six vid cams were still buzzing around her, and swore. “Atkins.. Destroy those vid cams. And do it now.”
“No!” came Booly’s voice, as he and his T-2 materialized out of the drifting smoke. A group of aides and bodyguards could be seen immediately behind the officer. “Kill two of the cameras and delegate the third to me,” Booly said.
“But sir,” Santana objected, “that would…”
“That’s an order,” Booly growled. “Do it.”
Santana glanced toward the west. The Ramanthian freighter was visible and getting larger with each passing second. Tiny, insectlike Daggers were attacking the behemoth, and smoke trailed behind it, but it continued to bore in. “You heard the general, Atkins. Kill two of the cameras.”
The T-2 fired two shots in quick succession and the cameras exploded. Then, having delegated the last machine to Booly, Santana turned to tell him as much. But the general and his aides were already on the run, with the globe-shaped vid cam in hot pursuit.
The essence of Booly’s plan was clear. If he could lead the camera away from the Warrior Queen, the Ramanthian ship would follow. But could he execute the move in time? The freighter had come much closer. Santana could see the flare of the vessel’s repellers, the dust they churned up, and flash after flash as missiles hit the already devastated hull.
Should he take the Queen and make a run for it? Or would that make the royal even more vulnerable? Santana was still thinking about the pros and cons as the wedge-shaped ship began to turn its nose away from the rise and toward Booly. Then, with increasing speed, the freighter entered a shallow dive and followed the signal in.
Booly looked up, saw the huge mass coming straight for him, and ordered his party to scatter. Then his thoughts turned to Maylo. Good-bye, dearest, good-bye… I’ll be waiting.
Then the ship was upon him, crushing all that he was under its unimaginable weight, as the freighter’s blunt nose began to plow its way across the Plain of Pain. Waves of dirt curled away from the bow as the hull slid for the better part of two miles before the ship finally came to rest. And, in addition to killing the Confederacy’s highest-ranking general, the spaceship obliterated two quads and more than a dozen T-2s. That opened a path that ran deep into the Confederacy’s ranks. A road to victory.
“Now!” the Queen shouted, as the freighter struck. “Follow it in.” The original plan had been compromised. She knew that. But the way was open, and that meant it was possible to salvage victory from the jaws of defeat. So with a company of Imperial Guards for support, and careless of the bullets that buzzed all around her, the Queen stood as the command car pursued a zigzagging course between smoking wrecks, groups of combatants, and occasional rock formations.
And then the command car was there, within sight of the bodies that lay in bloody drifts, and the defiant creature that stood on top of the rise. It produced a bloodcurdling chittering sound, sent a ball of coherent energy flying at the royal vehicle, and scored a hit. The impact sent the Queen and several members of her party tumbling out onto the ground.
Then the Queen was up and moving forward as the Kathong creature came out to meet her. And neither one of the royals were alone. A dozen animals were present to support the Warrior Queen and an equal number of Imperial Guards were gathered around the other royal as she and her standard-bearers advanced.
Vanderveen and her T-2 were right behind the Warrior Queen and moving forward when a Ramanthian rocket struck the center of Haskins’s chest and exploded. Owing to her position on the cyborg’s back, Vanderveen was sheltered from the blast. But as the cyborg fell over backwards, there was a very real possibility that she would be crushed under the T-2’s considerable weight.
So Vanderveen hit the quick-release button located at the center of her harness and threw herself sideways. The ground came up fast and knocked the wind out of her as the two groups of combatants came together. Projectiles kicked up geysers of dirt all around her as Vanderveen struggled to rise.
Then Dietrich was there, standing over her, firing a grenade launcher. More than half a dozen Ramanthian soldiers had circled around the center of the battle, hoping to attack the Warrior Queen from behind. Four of the charging Ramanthians were killed as Dietrich’s grenades exploded around them. But the noncom’s luck ran out as the two survivors emerged from the smoke. They were so close that he couldn’t employ the launcher. So Dietrich was in the process of reaching for his pistol when a bug, who was carrying a lance, thrust the needle-sharp weapon at him. The legionnaire produced a grunt as the spearpoint penetrated his armor, passed through his abdomen, and emerged on the other side with the bloodied pennant still attached. Then, having taken hold of the shaft with both hands, Dietrich fell.
Vanderveen was back on her feet by then, firing her carbine. Bugs came at her, and she fired. A hail of bullets took them down. One of them tried to rise, and she put another bullet through his visor.
As Vanderveen knelt next to Dietrich and pulled his helmet free, she saw that his eyes were open. They blinked rapidly as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “So you’re alive,” he croaked. “That’s good. Real good. The major told me to make sure.”
“You were supposed to watch over him,” Vanderveen said gently. “But thank you.”
Dietrich forced a smile. “Sorry, ma’am… But I report to the major. Or I did. And I was honored to do so. You tell him…”
“Yes?”
There was no answer. Dietrich was gone.
Vanderveen stood, began to turn, and felt something strike her head. There was an explosion of pain, followed by a long fall into endless darkness.
18
For there among the fallen lie the best and the brightest, their blood forever comingled with our sacred sand and the sky a bove.