Gronningen had already started to depress the firing stud when he saw the Pasule contingent start pointing. He paused for only a moment, all the time it took the keyed-up guards to hit the water, and then fired.
The plasma charge traveled at nearly the speed of light and smote the nearer Pasule guardhouse in a flash of actinic light and a bellowing explosion. The Marshadan guards were swept effortlessly from the bridge by the thermal bloom, vanishing like gnats in a candle flame, and the plasma bolt carved a ruler-straight line of blazing vegetation across the fields between the cannon and the bridge. The center of that line was bare black to the soil, which steamed and smoked in the blazing gray light.
The Marines broke into a trot, heading straight for the bridge with bead rifles and grenade launchers at port arms, and the rest of the Marshad forces poured out of the city gates behind them.
Gronningen flipped the safety back on and hit the collapse key, and the fire team waited while the cannon reabsorbed itself, then looked at their leader.
"Mutabi," Moseyev said, slinging his bead rifle and taking one of the handles. "Let's go."
The team hefted their weapons and followed the rest of their company. Walking through the fire.
"Glorious! Glorious!" Radj Hoomas clapped all four hands in glee. "The bridge is clear! Pity their guards got away, though."
"You didn't inform your own guards?" Roger's tone was wooden.
"Why should I? If they'd panicked early, it might have given away our attack." The king looked towards the distant city. "Look, they still haven't even begun to issue forth. We've caught them completely by surprise. Glorious!"
"Yes," Roger agreed, as Pahner stepped up beside him, obviously to get a better view of Pasule. "It's going well so far."
Eleanora O'Casey nodded at the group of guards around the king, who waved for them to move aside. It was well known that the chief of staff was an academic, not a fighter, and so tiny a person hardly posed a threat to Radj Hoomas.
"What do you intend to do with them when you capture their city?" she asked, stepping up on the far side of the king from the prince and captain and gesturing at the other city.
"Well, the market for dianda is fully satisfied at the moment," the Mardukan said, rubbing his horns. "So after stripping the Houses, I will probably permit them to raise barleyrice. Well, that and use them to support my combined army as it conquers the rest of the city-states."
"And, of course," O'Casey said, "we'll be free to pass on our way."
"Of course. I will have no further need for you. With the combined force of Marshad and Pasule, I'll control the plains."
"Ah," the academic said. "Excellent."
The king grunted as the gates of the distant city opened at last. It was difficult to see much at this distance, but it was obvious that the city's forces were pouring out into the plain to defend their fields.
"I'd hoped they would take longer to respond," he grumped.
"Well," O'Casey smiled, "they say no plan survives contact with the enemy." She tried not to smile too broadly as she recalled Pahner's explanation of the sole exception to that rule—the first few moments of a surprise attack
"Look." The king pointed to the struggling plasma cannon team. "Your lightning weapon is almost to the hill."
Moseyev's team had reached the parklike hill, and were toiling up the overgrown path, and Radj Hoomas pointed again, this time to a small group of his own forces which had separated from the main body.
"I hope no one minds, but I sent along some of my own troops." He grunted in laughter, looking down at the chief of staff. "Just in case your soldiers should meet up with stragglers or brigands. You can never be too careful, you know."
"Oh, I agree," the academic said with a slight frown. "War is a terrible business. One never knows what might go wrong."
"Okay," Gronningen said. "We've got nursemaids." The big Asgardian frowned. "This is going to fuck things up."
"I see 'em," Moseyev grunted. "Stay with the plan."
"There's nearly twenty of 'em," Macek's tone wasn't nervous, just professional.
"Yeah," Moseyev said, grunting again—this time under the combined weight of their overloaded packs and the plasma cannon. "And there's four of us, and we planned for this. When we get in place, put out the gear right away. Even with this heavy mother, we can make it to the top of the hill in plenty of time."
The king grunted in laughter as the Marshad forces came to a halt on the plain. The formation's wings were composed of standard mercenary companies, professionals who would stand and fight as long as they felt the battle was going for them, and not a second longer. They could be expected to lend weight to a successful attack, but only a fool would depend on them for more than that.
No, the critical point was in the center, where the strongest and deepest companies stood. The humans formed the front rank, "supported" by the majority of the Royal Guard immediately behind them, ready to cut them down if they attempted to flee or to exploit the expected breach the human weapons were about to rip through the Pasulians.
The Guards had stopped to dress their ranks before attacking... which gave the humans an opportunity to make one last communication.
"Fire it off, Julian," Lieutenant Jasco said.
"Yes, Sir." The NCO dug the star flare out of his cargo pocket and prepared it, then fired it into the air over the human forces—where both the Pasulian army and their Marshadan allies in the city could see it—with a thump.
"What was that?" the king demanded suspiciously as the green firework burst in midair.
"It's a human custom," O'Casey said indifferently. "It's a sign that the force is here for battle and that no parley will be accepted."
"Ah." The mollified monarch gave another grunting laugh. "You seem eager to enter battle."
"The sooner we finish, the sooner we can be on our way," O'Casey said with absolute sincerity.
"There's the signal," Denat whispered.
"You don't need to whisper," Sena said grumpily. "No one can hear us here."
They were back in their sewer tunnel, but Denat wasn't paying any attention to the smell this time. The two of them were too busy watching the humans who had just topped out on the small hill across the river.
"What's that they're setting up?" Sena asked. The activity could barely be seen at this range.
"A lightning weapon," Denat replied offhandedly. "One of their largest. It will cut through the enemy like a scythe."
"Ah," the spy said. "Good. It looks like they're ready."
"We're up, boss."
"Roger." Moseyev looked to where Macek and Mutabi were putting in the last of the crosslike stakes. The stakes ran in a semicircle ten meters back from where the plasma cannon was set up. "You set, Mutabi?"
"Yep." The grenadier dusted his hands. "Limit line's all set."
"Good, because here comes our company." The team leader raised a hand at the group of Mardukans struggling up the hill. "Hold it. Why are you here?"
The Mardukan in the lead swatted at his hand.
"We were sent to keep an eye on you, basik," he grunted. "Make sure you didn't scuttle off into the bush like the cowards you are."
"Did you see what this thing did to the bridge?" Moseyev snapped. "I could give a shit why you're here, frankly, but if you don't follow our instructions exactly, you're all going to be a pre-fried lunch for the crocs, got it?"
"We're going to do as we damned well please," the leader shot back angrily, but there was more than a hint of fear under his belligerence, and the troops behind him muttered nervously. "We'll stay out of the way, but only where we can watch you," he said in slightly more moderate tones. Clearly, he had no more interest in dying than the soldiers he commanded.