Mike continued to watch the thickening spray of Indowy refugees on Sisalav Boulevard. Cutting the view to one quarter of his visor, he saw them in real-time entering the battalion's sector. He heard "Hold fire" calls on the company nets he was monitoring and smiled; the little Indowy could hardly have looked less like the enemy. The hairy little bipeds were on foot, covered in a layer of yellowish dust from the roads and fleeing unencumbered. They seemed not to have the human urge to maintain possessions.
"AID, where's their transportation?" asked Mike, puzzled. There were none of the cars, trucks or even manhandled carts that would be expected with a similar group of humans.
"They have no need for it, so virtually no Indowy have transports. Few of them leave the megascrapers in their entire lives; indeed, few leave a single area, a floor or a sector. A few never leave a series of rooms. All they need is in the building, their quarters, food workshops and baths."
"Where are they going? Do they know?"
"No, there is no support for refugees. If they are nonproductive they are of no consequence. Some will find menial positions, a few with special skills may find employment, but the vast majority will eventually die of exposure or starvation."
Mike shivered in his plastic womb; the more he learned about Galactic ethos, the less he liked.
"Show me a schematic of primary water and sewer pipes connecting to Qualtren and Qualtrev with diameter and access notations." It bothered him that the plan was so one dimensional. A few of the upper stories were being used but the vast subbasements and sewers were being ignored. In WWII the Russians and Germans both used sewers to good effect. At least the entire Posleen mass would not be able to fire at them if they were underground. He studied the schematic and frowned in puzzlement.
"Michelle, those supply systems—I don't care how minimalist the Indowy are, there are not enough and large enough water supply lines or sewage disposal lines. What gives?"
"Most water and sewage are recycled in the megascraper."
"Hmm." The water pipes were still big enough to move around in. "Michelle, instruct all AIDs to begin a plot for every individual and small unit to the nearest water pipe access. Prepare a retreat plan to Saltrev/Saltren via underground connections and update a defense plan. Continuously update Kobe and Jericho on the basis of engineering platoon advancements. Prepare to coordinate demolition plan with Alpha and Bravo companies. And we'll have to find a way to shut down the flow. "Expect victory, plan for defeat.
The flood of Indowy was starting to choke the boulevard, their gray-green bodies pressed together, packing the wide road from side to side. He could see more flooding out of Waltren from the point of view of the scout platoon leader, those tributaries adding to the flood. The street was as packed as Wall Street at lunch time, as packed as a papal mass with the lemminglike flood of Indowy. Their sturdy little bodies were being smashed against the unyielding metal faces of the buildings, crushing the young, old and weak alike underfoot. Lesser streams wound into and through Naltren and Naltrev, across the avenue and into Qualtrev/Qualtren, every individual contributing to both the pressure and the panic.
As the major force of Indowy refugees reached Qualtren/Qualtrev, the back pressure and the turn combined to drive thousands of the small humanoids into the northwest quadrant of Qualtren's lower floors. There they encountered 1st platoon of Charlie company and the effect was shattering.
Individually the Indowy had the manners and aggressiveness of a rabbit but in that vast panicked horde they acted like stampeding buffalo. When the wave front hit 1st platoon the Indowy entering the many ground floor openings at first went around the armored humans arrayed within. Then, as the pressure mounted, they started jostling the soldiers and climbing on and over them. As the weight mounted of first a handful, then a dozen then hundreds of panicked extraterrestrials, the suited troopers were toppled and began to thrash under the stampede. As they thrashed and kicked, trying to clear them away, the servo-assisted armor smashed and splattered the inoffensive little creatures painting their green ichor across the pastel walls. The ichor only added to the problem, making the floor slippery with body fluids.
The Charlie company commander and first sergeant rushed to the scene in a futile attempt to regain the platoon position but they, in turn, were swept under by the flood. Two of the battalion's terawatt lasers were in the mass, set to fire "right into the throats" of the Posleen, and they were lost as well. Thus, before the battle was joined, the crucial platoon and company commander of the battalion's defense along with thirty percent of its heavy firepower was neutralized. All without one Posleen in sight.
Mike switched onto the Charlie net as it became jammed with screaming and cursing. He attempted to contact the Charlie Company CO, Captain Vero, since the platoon's AIDs could be instructed to filter outgoing transmissions but the commander was stepping all over the net by shouting and cursing as loudly as his troopers. When Mike switched to the battalion command net, the RTO was overwhelmed with calls from Alpha, Weapons, Support and even Headquarters' company commanders requesting orders or guidance. Alpha's ground floor platoon, Third Herd was in danger of being overwhelmed as well. Mike heard Captain Wright request permission to move them to upper floors and be immediately denied by the RTO; it was obvious that he had not consulted Lieutenant Colonel Youngman.
Lieutenant Colonel Youngman and Major Norton were, meanwhile, conferring on the staff net. Major Norton's AID had been ordered to hold all incoming calls. This was a technique that worked with RTOs but only worked with the very literal AIDs after they had been "broken in." With an RTO, if he thought the call was really important, he'd pass it on. That was how you knew you had a good RTO. But an inexperienced AID was like a bad RTO. It took every order literally and had no sense of discretion. Until Major Norton countermanded the setting, if in the heat of battle he remembered, the company commanders could not contact their remaining link to the battalion commander when they were blocked by his RTO.
Captain Wright withdrew 3rd platoon without orders and placed them ready to resume their positions. Captain Vero finally calmed down and started to get those of his troops that he could withdrawn. About half of the Charlie platoon and most of Alpha had been withdrawn when the first Posleen Report came in. However, the lasers were left behind. The colonel and the S-3 were not even aware of the situation; they were totally cut off from communication outside their little world.
"Enemy in view" came the call on all command nets, the priority stepping on all other communications. Instantly every commander switched to feeds from the scouts.
Behind the flood of Indowy, like a hawk eating a snake, was an equally solid if more disciplined flood of leprous yellow centaurs. The front rank was trotting to keep up with the running Indowy, wielding their long palmate blades in either hand. They would hack down an Indowy and run to catch the next as the following rank lifted the body and passed it to the outside. Along the way the corpse would be gutted and dismembered until the rendered portions were stacked neatly against a wall. The force was a gigantic moving abattoir with the occasional snack nibbled along the way.
Behind this first block of about twelve thousand Posleen the remainder were broken into three streams. The center stream continued to follow the front group as backup, while the outside streams poured into the megascrapers.
The leaders, the God Kings, were clearly evident. They rode in their open saucer-shaped vehicles about two meters across with lasers or HVM launchers mounted on powered gimbals. According to orders the scout/snipers, one member of each three-man scout team, lifted their M-209 sniper rifles and, as a group, fired a low-velocity sniper round at a designated God King. Like a single string-cut marionette, ten God Kings fell. The whole mass checked for a split second and then responded.