Kenallai raised his crest to forestall fresh argument. «We are exposed here,» he said, just as a wave of explosions tracked across the oolt to the south. The blasts were small, the charges weak. But it killed several oolt'os outright and others were rendered as a loss.
The exuberant young commander waved off the blasts. «The fire is coming from near that structure,» he said, gesturing to the distant obelisk behind him. «It is random. The thresh cannot hi—« His chest exploded in yellow as a .50-caliber bullet punched through his neural path and out through his chest.
The head of the young Kessentai flew upwards and yellow blood spurted from his mouth and nostrils. He slumped onto his tenar controls and his talons scrabbled at them as he appeared to be trying to say something. The crocodilian mouth appeared to shape the first syllables of the name of his lord, father and master, then he slid out of the cradle and to the torn ground, his fiery eyes going cold and glazed.
The sensors on a half dozen tenars screamed and weapons automatically swiveled towards the source of the fire. The weapons vomited a mixture of coherent light, relativistic missiles and concentrated plasma. A corner of the Monument was gouged out as the fire continued into the spot where someone had had the temerity to assassinate a God King. In a moment it was joined by the fire of dozens and then hundreds of Posleen normals, following the aiming points of their gods.
Of all that host, only one did not fire. Kenallai sat upon his unmoving tenar, staring down at the body of his eson'antai. As the fire slacked off the oolt'os came forward to start the rendering, but he held up his hand.
Finally, finally, he understood the thresh and it made him fear. Suddenly he was forced to wonder if there was not a better way than to make such a one into an evening's meal. Not even a special meal, but simply one bit mixed into the ration chain. Was there not something to such a one as this brilliant Kessentai? Something that lasted beyond the moment the thrice-Fistnal threshkreen put a bit of metal through him? Was there not something that lived on?
And he finally understood something else. Sometime, somewhere, someone in the Host had felt as he had. Had felt this for an eson'antai, for a beloved comrade, for a beloved enemy. And had fought for a change. For a bit of tradition that lifted out of the continuous cycle of conquest and orna'adar. For something higher.
He had never felt that calling. But he understood it now. Understood it at last.
He reached down to his feet and snapped loose a staff. There was only one per Kessentai, in keeping with tradition. Some cast them away as scoutmasters. Most had cast them at one time or another. Three had been cast on the long ride to this hellish spot. But never by him. He had never understood the need. Now he did. Finally. He finally understood his son, who had cast his at the blasted heath of the first conquest on this blasted planet. This thrice-damned, never to be mentioned, horrid, horrid little planet.
And he finally understood the thresh. And feared. For they felt this way for every single death. To the threshkreen, all the gathered thresh, all the wasted thresh, all the thresh on the hoof were Kessanalt. Each and every one. And everysingle threshkreen felt the anger he did now. It was terrifying to suddenly realize how thoroughly they had erred in landing on this white and blue ball.
«We are doomed,» he whispered, as he tossed the staff onto the body. He looked to the oolt'os. They were of his personal oolt and all fairly intelligent. They should be able to follow the instructions. «Carry him to the hill.» He pointed to be sure they were clear on which hill he meant. «Place him on the pile of threshkreen that are upon the top of the hill. Take the staff. Report back to this location when you are done.»
Ardan'aath drifted his tenar up behind him. «We have to get moving.» He pointed to the distant obelisk. «We've killed that one, but more will be back.»
Kenallai turned to the older Kessentai. The commander could not expect him to suddenly change as he had. He had not had the vision. «Do you realize how thoroughly we have failed?»
Ardan'aath did not even turn his head. But a twitch of crest betrayed his discomfort. «I never expected you to be one to throw the staff,» he said dubiously.
Kenallai flared his nostrils in agreement. «Well, I have. And I will tell you. We are caught in the grat's nest. There is no escape.»
Ardan'aath took a deep breath. «I will give you a moment to decide. After that you can take the field or return to the rear.»
Kenallai flared his crest in bleak humor. «You idiot. There is no rear. I will take the field with or without you. And be damned to your threats. But it is because we have no retreat! This is the end! We have thresh dug-in like abat in this damn building,» he continued, gesturing to the monument behind him. «We have the force to the south, which has destroyed the host there and we are faced with this force here while the host trickles across the river. We are fuscirto uut!»
Ardan'aath gestured in negation. «You are made soft by the teachings of that young fool.» He gestured towards the obelisk-topped mound. «They are few and already running.»
The sensors screamed again as another God King slumped off his tenar. This time the fire raked from one end of the mound to the other, tearing across the front of the obelisk. But even as the fire tore into the engineering work, another target dot appeared on the OAS Annex. And another on the Agriculture Building. Then a group of oolt'os splashed away from the explosion of the first 120mm mortar round.
The .50-caliber rifles were not only powerful, they had enormous range. The snipers were taking shots from nearly a mile. Most of them were falling among the normals, causing unnoticed casualties. But the occasional shots, better or more lucky than the others, were hitting the leaders. And drawing massive response. But as more of the weapons joined the fray, the response of the God Kings was becoming more diffused.
Kenallurial fluffed his crest. «We have come far together. But now it is time to sever our relationship.» He nodded at his old friend. «I go to the field. And I shall not return.»
He turned his tenar and sent it floating down towards his waiting oolt. The heavily armed company would scythe into the distant defenders. But he already knew it was for naught.
Suddenly a targeting dot appeared at the top of the obelisk and a moment later the tenar of Ardan'aath evaporated in actinic fire as a bullet penetrated the crystal pack.
The low-grade nuclear explosion washed the steps of the Monument clear of Posleen. Kenallai had already moved away from his former comrade when it happened and he controlled his tenar as the shock wave threatened to drown it in the shallow reflecting pool.
He was beyond cursing. He winced at the gouge riven across his back by a bit of shrapnel and looked to the distant obelisk.
«That is just about enough,» he whispered. «To the Alld'nt with this.» He gestured to the members of his oolt'ondar. «Off your tenar!» He suited action to words, climbing off his own saucer and removing the plasma cannon from its pintle mount. The heavy power pack was lovingly placed across his back as the other God Kings dismounted and began gathering the oolt'os of the late Ardan'aath. «If we are among the oolt'os the fuscirto uut thresh cannot pick us out!»
He turned to the east and the distant monument as another line of explosions tracked across the mass of oolt'os gathered before the pool. «Let us to battle!» he cried. «It is a good day to die!»