* * *
Kenallai cursed the evil harvest that inhabited this thrice-damned world.
«Threshkreen, indeed, my edas'antai,» murmured Kenallurial as the nearby guns hammered the remaining scouts of Sammadar as they swept down the main street of the small town.
He had convinced his edas'antai that the proper way to deal with this enemy was to observe his methods, then develop ways to combat them. Sammadar had been virtually wiped out assaulting the enemy lines to the south. But when the enemy's own guns destroyed their positions, Kenallurial's oolt'os were in position to exploit the break in the lines.
He had maintained a forward position, capturing rich booty on the way. But on approaching the town, which captured maps showed bisected by a large river, he had slowed, probing forward carefully, and instructing his junior Kessentai, with hard blows when necessary, to remain under cover. Now his oolts held a strategic ridgeline—one without noticeable booty, but a commanding view—and he and his edas'antai observed the destruction of the rival oolt'ondar from a house on the ridge.
Houses were a dangerous prospect on this thrice-damned planet, but the Posleen had slowly begun to recognize the signs. A single oolt'os would be sent to, carefully, open what looked to be the primary door of a building. If there was a beeping sound and a black box with a flashing light, the oolt'os would run like the demons of the sky were after it. Sometimes it made it, sometimes it did not. But at least they were not losing oolt'os by the double hand anymore.
This house had no flashing lights, nor demolition charges. It rested comfortably on the riverward shoulder of the ridge overlooking the town. The sign on the front, in the beastly language of this planet, said something about «Rock Shelf,» which certainly described the terrain.
The far bank of the river was steep as the side of a building, with a narrow road winding around to the right. The left was obscured. He could see a four-lane highway bridge downriver, and there was a small footbridge just below the house they occupied.
«We should send forces to seize that crossing!» snarled Ardan'aath, pointing to the four-lane bridge. «Why do we skulk in buildings?»
«Hmmm,» murmured Kenallai. The oolt'ondar was feeling unrecognized emotions. Among others, doubt.
«If you wish to try,» said Kenallurial, calmly, «go right ahead.»
Ardan'aath had not gotten to where he was by being stupid. The thrice-eaten-by-demons puppy had something up his sleeve. «Why don't you?»
«I prefer to live long enough to enjoy the fruits of my conquests,» answered the younger Kessentai, with an almost contemptuous snout wrinkle.
Ardan'aath started to say what he thought of such a cowardly approach, but was stopped by the raised hand of Kenallai.
«The argument is done,» he said, gesturing out the window.
They watched as Sammadar charged his main force towards the bridge, and as the front two oolt were swept away by the explosions.
«Sky demon shit,» snarled Ardan'aath, rounding on the junior Kessentai, «you knew!»
«I suspected.»
«Why?» asked Kenallai.
«It is what I would have done.»
«And what would you do next?»
Kenallurial looked towards the river below. «I would pound this valley to pieces as our comrades rush to try a crossing.» He pulled out the captured map. Ardan'aath turned away from the piece of alien garbage, but Kenallai bent over in interest.
«Look, we are here,» he said, pointing to the town. «This river stretches all the way to here,» he continued, pointing to the town of Manassas. «That is the first place that we can turn towards the treasures to the north.»
«What about this?» asked Kenallai, pointing to a symbol. «Is this not a closer bridge?» Near the possible defense point, but to the side, a bridge crossed.
«What bridge, my edas'antai?» asked the junior, respectfully, keeping his eyes on the map.
«Oh.» Once he thought about it, it was obvious that the threshkreen would destroy the bridge before it could be taken by the host.
«But before the Po'oslenar can turn this corner, can take that booty to the north,» continued the eson'antai, «there is this stretch here.» Near the end of the Occoquan reservoir, a thin line of blue stretched to the south and widened to become Lake Jackson. «The threshkreen can organize here and meet us in terrific battle. Woe betide the force that first assaults them there!»
«It would be an honorable battle,» snarled Ardan'aath, «none of this skulking and running about. We could sweep them aside as we did their fellows to the south, as we destroyed their town! As we shall sweep all these thresh into our pens!»
«We would be like Sammadar!» snarled the junior, rounding on the older Kessentai in challenge mode. «Without an oolt'os to our name, reduced to a castellaine! Perhaps that is what you seek?»
«Enough!» snapped the oolt'ondai, stepping between the two officers as they began to close. «Each has his merits! I listen to both, and each decides for himself the actions of his oolt'os. For himself! That is the Way and the Path. Ardan'aath, I listen to this one, for he is often right before the battle. But as battle is joined, do I not take your advice?»
«Aye, my lord,» said the older advisor, calmer with the reminder.
«Then, listen to this one. Take not anger from this conference, but wisdom.»
«I listen. As to wisdom, when this puppy has seen the burning of the orna'adar, when he has conquered worlds, then will I learn his wisdom.» He turned away and stomped again to the window. As he did, a tremendous crash on the southern ridge smashed the remaining glass inward, scattering it about the room and into the God King's crest. With an angry gesture, he shook his crocodilian head to clear it. «Demons of the sky eat your souls, you gutless thresh!»
«My edas'antai, we do not have much more time,» whispered the junior softly.
«The firing of this valley? You are sure of that?»
«Yes, here is the final quotient. If the thresh defend here,» he pointed once again to the map, wondering for a moment about the mind of a species that would make such a thing, the Po'oslenar had no equivalent, «then they will be strong. But if we swing here,» he pointed south of Lake Jackson, «to the south, we can come in behind them. They cannot be strong everywhere.»
«That will take us hours out of our way, we will not be there before deep night!»
«That is my suggestion. If you prefer to try that footbridge . . .» He gestured pointedly out the window.
The oolt'ondai winced, without looking again. He was experienced enough to recognize a trap when he saw one. «I think not. Ardan'aath!»
«Oolt'ondai?»
«Are you with us?»
«For a long march with no prospect of battle for hours? When battle rages all around us? What use am I?»
«Ardan'aath! Yes, or no? We must move!»
«I have traveled far with you, Kenallai. I continue, despite your dependence on this puppy.»
«Then we move!» With those words he led the way out of the room, already at a trot, a terrible fear clutching at his soul.
* * *
They passed the outskirts of the town of Occoquan, the normals of the brigade in a ground-eating lope, just as the first salvo of sixteen-inch rounds landed in the square.
* * *
«Big Mo pour it on!» The condition of Ryan's ears, despite hastily jammed in earplugs, had gone beyond ringing to probable permanent deafness. «I can't hear any response! I think I'm deaf! But you've wiped out hundreds so far.»
The plan had worked beyond his wildest dreams, because somehow the word had gotten around that there was an intact bridge at this location. Through the afternoon, the Posleen poured into the valley, charging for their chance at taking the far bank, and the shorter route to the prizes to the north. But as fast as they charged, the guns of the Missouri pounded the narrow defilade where the town had once stood.