And heard a startled cry from the corpse-strewn field. Hoping that anything which surprised the clones would give him a moment of safe observation, he popped his head back around the corner of the revetment.
One of the clones was down, the other two staring wildly about — just as, faint as the echo of a distant dog’s bark, they all heard a rifle report. And having carried that model of rifle, Caine knew exactly what it was, and exactly what it meant.
The distant CoBro eight-millimeter liquimix battle rifle — the new standard of Earth’s Commonwealth forces — fired again: another of the clones went down, two puffs of dark mist jetting from his chest. The dying echo of the blended reports confirmed the direction and the range of the fire: it had come from well beyond the far side of the river. And it meant friendlies were on their way. The last clone dropped to a knee, scanned quickly for cover—
Caine sprinted out around the corner of the revetment, grabbed the blood-slick Pindad on the move, rolled into a prone position, his heart hammering so hard he knew he would never be accurate enough to hit his enemy—
Who, hearing the noise, had spun around, his own Pindad coming up — the same moment that three rapid maroon vapor jets erupted from his torso. He fell over and did not move.
Caine resolved to take three seconds to rest and think and listen.
And the first sound he heard made him cancel the last two seconds: more Pindads firing, back near Fallback Point One. Damn it. The attack here, which he’d guessed might be a feint or merely an opportunity attack, had obviously been the signal for another, possibly larger force to hit his main line.
So, how best to help? What will hit our enemies the hardest? Caine’s eyes strayed out over the bloody silted riverbed — probably a handful of firearms, but it would take time to find them, time to get the ammo, and all the while, he’d be getting shorter and shorter of breath.
Which reminded him: time to pop another pill. He did.
The alternative? See if Thnessfiirm could move now. If she could, and was able to operate the AMP, that would bring a far more powerful weapon to bear far more rapidly.
Caine snagged the Pindad’s bandoliers from the dead clone’s torso, jogged around the corner of the revetment—
— and almost ran headlong into Thnessfiirm. The Slaasriithi’s very pale neck and tendrils looked like they were now covered with sagging, old skin. “Thnessfiirm, are you—?”
“I am able to function. I believe.” Her sensor cluster wobbled uncertainly in the direction of the distant gunfire. “They are attacking where you expected.”
“I think so. Can you travel?”
“I must. I shall lead the way.” And Thnessfiirm was moving into the bush, gaining speed as she went.
Riordan started after her, stopped. He turned to face across the river, put up the arm holding the Pindad and waved it wide, three times. Thanks.
He turned and plunged into the foliage after Thnessfiirm.
* * *
Eight hundred and seventy meters beyond the river to the east, and cinched between the bole of a bumbershoot and the canopy of a cone-tree, First Lieutenant Christopher “Tygg” Robin lowered the eight-millimeter Colt Browning’s scope from his right eye. He smiled sadly. “You’re welcome, Caine. Just sorry I didn’t hit the drop zone.”
Tygg nestled into the upper branches of the cone-tree. Having no way to get across the river, his best option was to remain in his present perch, which provided a commanding view of the opposite bank of the river for over a kilometer in either direction. Now that he knew what the bad guys looked like, he could pick off any that might come back near the river. He nodded reassuringly to himself; even from here, I can help, I can turn the—
But then Tygg heard distant stutters of assault rifles, the crump of a grenade, and once again he damned his distance, damned his reluctance to use the boosters Rulaine had scavenged from the emergency reentry kits. Uncertain of how hard the rockets would kick, Tygg worried he might overshoot the drop zone. And ironically, because of that caution, he had come in a kilometer short of it.
Tygg stared at the far bank and felt quite keenly that, despite his best efforts and best guesses, he’d let his friends down. “Good luck, mates,” he whispered at the distant trees where God-only-knew-what was transpiring.
Chapter Forty-Seven. SOUTHERN EXTENTS OF THE THIRD SILVER TOWER BD +02 4076 TWO (“DISPARITY”)
Dripping sweat again, and tossing away his last, drained water bottle, Riordan staggered into Fallback Two, expecting to find it empty — but Veriden, Macmillan, and Xue were already there. Not good. “Report,” Caine gasped.
Macmillan, whose beefy strength apparently came at the expense of endurance, gasped back at him. “We were in our positions, caught them in the flank. Bunch of hits. But nine-millimeter wasn’t enough to drop them, usually.”
Veriden took over as Macmillan sucked in a deep breath; the filters in his mask whined as that volume of air rushed through them. “We killed or incapacitated one. Wounded two, maybe three.” Veriden hardly seemed winded. Riordan had known that she was lithe and tough, but hadn’t realized just how lithe and how tough she was until now.
“Where’s Esiankiki?”
Xue shook his head. “I do not know what became of Ms. Salunke. She was firing until the attackers used their grenade launcher. I think it is the model built into the Jufeng.”
“I heard it. And yes, it is.”
“So our own people are attacking us?”
Riordan shook his head at Macmillan. “I doubt it’s anything that straightforward. But we’ve gotta move.”
Veriden frowned, looked around. “Yeah, but where?”
“Fallback Three.”
Xue looked at him carefully. “Captain, that is our last fallback point.”
Caine motioned for them to follow him. “Yes, but since you’re already here at Fallback Two, and they can’t be far behind, that’s our last option. Just get to your fighting positions.” He saw glances go back and forth between the three of them. “What is it?”
“Ammo.” Veriden shook her rifle; the bolt was back and the breech was open. “I’m dry.”
Caine considered, then held out his Pindad and its magazines. “Here.” As Dora took it, Macmillan looked up as if he’d been given a mild rebuke. “Keith, she’s a good shot and she’s not winded. Only one of us can say that, right now. So mobility gets the firepower. Now keep moving.” Macmillan shrugged then nodded at the logic. Veriden checked the weapon with professional surety and ease.
“Where’s Thnessfiirm? And Qwara?” Xue asked as they exited the thick brush and began crossing the silted streambed at the narrowest point.
Hunching to keep his head below the level of the spike-grass and tuber-saplings that dotted the soft irregular ground, Riordan gestured to the stands of trees and ten-meter fronds lining what had once been the stream’s far bank. “Thnessfiirm is just behind Fallback Three with the AMP. Qwara…Qwara didn’t make it.” He thought to order Xue and Keith to equalize their remaining ammo, but saw that they were already in the process of doing so.
Back among the tangle of copses and thickets they had just exited, sharp whistles and trilling calls arose from the treetops. A brace of Pindads sent up a furious counterchorus, then silence.
Macmillan hunched a little lower, jogged a little faster as they neared the tall growth on the far side of the silted streambed. “Seems like the convectorae positioned around Fallback Two spotted some enemy scouts.”