Or were they that heavily armed?
''Want to meet the guy you're up against?'' the elder asked.
''I know the one in orbit,'' Kris said.
''I mean the one on the ground.''
Over in the corner, behind Kris when she was facing the inquisition, was a small wall monitor. She'd noticed it earlier, but it showed only a blue screen with a small white logo … which turned out on close examination to be a grinning skull … so she'd ignored it. Now someone called up a picture from memory. It was hazy, and bounced around a bit. It showed a lander on approach, then cut to troops dismounting in businesslike fashion.
''Can you pause that?'' Kris asked.
The picture froze. Hazy at first, the monitor cleaned it up crystal clear after three flickers. Kris and Gunny stooped close to get a good look at what it showed.
''Mark V, mod 2 battle suits,'' Gunny said. ''No, mod 3s. They got the codpieces. Good stuff. Somebody had money,'' Gunny said, turning to the elder.
''Not enough. Look what comes off the next shuttle,'' the old man said with a sour grin.
The next lander was a standard shuttle, unarmored. The troops who tramped off it held M-6 rifles … or good knock-offs … but from the soles of their boots to the tops of their white berets, there was not one stitch of armor.
''Looks like somebody filled out his battalion at a bargain basement,'' Bobby Joe said. ''I wonder how good they are.''
They formed ranks and marched off the pier. Whoever was in charge didn't know to stay out of step when crossing bridges or other structures that might not withstand the pounding. Sad to say, the pier held together. But if the troops were supposed to instill fear in the observer, they missed their bet with Kris.
''Their heads are bobbing like a bunch of high school girls,'' Gunny growled, then thought better of it. ''If you'll pardon the expression, Your Highness.''
''I was thinking the same thing, Gunny,'' Kris said. ''Half of them can't dress, cover, or keep an interval. Kind of makes you wonder how straight they can shoot.''
''My thoughts exactly. Old-timer, you called it in one. Somebody unloaded a bunch of half-trained recruits. Cheap they may be, but they're up against a princess who cared enough to send the very best,'' came from Gunny, with a wolf's grin.
Bobby Joe came to stand beside the Marine. ''That's the way I took it. I figured when it came time for us to take back the daylight, we'd start with this bunch. Still, I have to admit, I'm only too glad to share the honors with you and yours.''
''You said I could meet the guy in charge?'' Kris said.
''That's coming in a second,'' the elder said, and a moment later, the picture got knocked around, ended up showing ground and sky and somebody's web gear. The Mark V was serious stuff.
When the picture leveled out, it was focused on one man's face. Olive skin and black eyes gave the camera a hard, measuring look. ''You live?'' the man demanded.
''Yes sir,'' came with a stammer and hiccup.
''Then broadcast this to whoever is watching. I am Colonel Hernando Cortez. I and my troops have come to restore order on Presley's Pride. All terrorists who turn in their weapons in the next twenty-four hours will be allowed to live. Anyone seen under arms twenty-four hours and one minute from now will be shot on sight. Further orders will be issued, and their nature will depend on the cooperation we receive. Did you send that?''
''Yes, sir.''
''Gimme that.'' The camera changed hands. And ended up dropped on the ground. The last picture it sent was of a boot about to crush it underfoot.
''Hernando Cortez,'' Kris said softly.
''A Hernando Cortez,'' Nelly put in helpfully, ''was one of the first conquistadors. He conquered the Aztecs of Mexico.''
''Looted their gold and enslaved their people,'' Bobby Joe added.
''Interesting choice of names for their ground commander,'' Gunny said.
''Could be just coincidence,'' Kris said. Then chuckled. ''Didn't Cortez burn the ships that brought him in? Wonder how this Cortez took to us sinking ours?'' Kris would have to ask him … once he was her prisoner.
''Thorpe's under the horizon,'' Sergeant Bruce announced as he entered the room. ''They've got an underground garage, and we've rigged five of their trucks with trailers. About time to saddle up and head south.''
''We can borrow your trucks?'' Kris asked the elder.
''I suspect Jamie gave your men that understanding,'' Grampa Bobby Joe said. Jamie was right behind Sergeant Bruce.
''My pa's got the trucks ready to go. And a dozen of our best with the squirrel rifles. I was planning on going.''
Andy looked torn. Wanting to go, tired of being gone. Bobby Joe reached for him. ''Son, you been gone too long. Not sure the neighbors would recognize you. Let Jamie and his pa, Billy, take this herd out. We need some good shooters at home.''
A grin swept Andy's face, and he gave the elder a huge hug.
''We'll be going,'' Kris said. ''You have any suggestions for a place that would give us cover eighty minutes down the road?''
''Try the Polska place. She's got a truck-repair barn that ought to be able to hide you.''
And Kris and her team, augmented by thirteen locals, started their trek south, to battle.
Kris was on the road when the Wasp came over the horizon. She immediately tight-beamed up a short report giving her present status and what she'd found out from the locals. She ended by asking if they'd heard anything from Jack.
Captain Drago appeared on Kris's eyeball a second later. ''Jack's been staying quiet, just as planned. And I'm not picking up a whole lot about him from up here, either.''
''Any idea what the other guy is up to?'' Kris asked.
''Finally, I can say something about that. Since last orbit these folks, Colonel Cortez, huh,'' Drago said, ''have gotten rather rambunctious.''
''Not hiding their movements, huh?''
''Abby figures they are, but things aren't going all their way anymore. Here's a picture of the road north from the first town upriver from Landingburg to town two. Notice all the traffic pulled off to the side of the road. Troopers standing around kicking the tires.''
Jamie glanced over from where he was driving … and doing a good job of keeping the truck out of holes and away from rocks. ''These guys aren't all that careful with our rolling stock.''
''You're going to have to explain that to me,'' Kris said.
His pa leaned his head through the open window between the truck's cab and it's flat bed where he was riding. ''Ma'am, we got a lot of old stuff. Some of our rolling stock has been rolling since Grampa got it off the lander. It's old. You might even say cranky. Now if you know how to treat it right, it's fine. But you figure you can just twist the key, pound on the gas, and it'll take you where you want to go, you're in for a whole world of stall, flood, and other nasty stuff.
''Every truck on the farm has its own way of looking at you. Why do you think Jamie's driving this heap? He has the touch for it. Me, I gave up on this one years ago.''
''Peggy's not a bad ride, Pa, not if you treat her right.''
''So you say,'' the older man said, and went back to talking with Sergeant Bruce on the flat bed.
Kris passed that intel along to Captain Drago.
''Somebody should have thought ahead about what they'd need,'' the captain said, shaking his head.
''Why bring what you can steal?'' Kris answered. ''I think this whole thing was worked out on a very tight budget.''
''A tight budget that didn't include a contingency for a Longknife showing up,'' Drago said dryly.
''Let's not put too much into that,'' Kris said. ''If they were planning on folding the hand they got dealt, they'd have run for the jump point while we were incoming. They've stayed this long. They aren't going anywhere without a fight.''