"And just what do you think is outside?" Wilm demanded hotly.
Staffa wiped sweat from his face. "Maneuvering room. We have any combat armor here?"
"Armory three," someone said from behind him. "Wilm, Kaylla, go!" Bruen ordered, waving his hand, taking the plastaheal from Wilm. "Do as Staffa says. He may be our salvation."
The Lord Commander looked down, a thin lifeless smile on his lips. "Grace, Magister?"
"Perhaps, Lord Commander." Bruen winced. "I'm too old for revolution. Hyde and I should have known better." He looked up from under the patch. "Why didn't they just seal us in here like rats?"
"Any indication of Makarta from the surface?"
"None. All the openings are in the outcrops overlooking the valley."
Staffa plucked the old man from the floor, awed by how little he actually weighed. "Then they didn't know quite what they were shooting at. Three main escape tunnels, right? The first shot was seismic. Beforehand, they'd dropped geophones. After the seismic shot, they had the
precise locations of the three tunnels plotted. Knowing that, it took one shot apiece to cave them in. They won't hit the main caverns until they know what they're dealing with."
Bruen frowned. "And that might mean they want Makarta intact for some reason."
Staffa's expression went grim. "Most likely captives. If they can take someone like you alive, the probes and Mytol will uncover all of the Seddi secrets. They'll be able to crush your spy network. Round up people like Tyklat. Make sure they wipe out the Seddi once and for all. "
Following Bruen's directions, Staffa stepped out into an atrium where hanging ferns obscured sunlight. He blinked, squinting in the light after the intense darkness. The cliff overhung the place and a low railing bordered the flagstones before the sheer rock fell away to the valley below. People crowded the tunnel behind them, afraid to step out into the open.
Staffa peered around, hearing the whistle of LCs in the distance. He left Bruen in the care of a young woman and crawled up next to a man with field scopes. "What's out there?"
"Must be three hundred Regan troops advancing through the valley," the man said in an anxious voice. As he spoke, a herd of horses bolted, running in panic toward the head of the valley. At a grove of trees, they shied, pounding sideways and splitting, some racing for the valley head, the others flying back down the way they had come.
"More there," Staffa observed. "You can bet if this Sinklar Fist is as good as everyone believes, he's got the mountain above us under control, too."
"So what do we do?" A young woman asked from behind them.
Staffa scanned their faces. "Have any of you fought Fist before?"
A young man in Initiate's robes crawled up. "I have, sir. He's different. "
"How does he set up his Sections?" "He doesn't," Bruen called gruffly.
Staffa turned, looking back to where the old man sat up, a lump over one eye.
"Fist has revolutionized warfare the way you yourself once did, Lord Commander." There came a general inrush
of breath. Evidently not everyone knew he'd come to Makarta. Cautious whispers passed back and forth.
"Fist uses small independent Groups, each pursuing its own initiative to
achieve a goal. The Section shares a series of goals which in turn act in concert with the needs of the Division. Unlike the Regan system, Fist's commander's are in the field and are allowed to use their initiative. The result is a great deal of flexibility and the ability to adapt to changing battlefield situations. And Fist, unlike his commanders, will not hesitate to replace an incompetent with a capable officer. Advancement is by merit."
"Just like the Companions." Staffa shrugged. "But are they as well trained?"
"They whipped five veteran Divisions," a somber-eyed youth reminded.
Staffa ducked as a heavy-duty blaster ripped the mountainside just above them.
"Get everyone back!" he ordered. "They've picked up IR from body heat in here." People-wasted no time retreating into the darkness.
"Are the other exits under fire?" Staffa asked.
"There are two more," Bruen sighed. "Both are like this one, and they're probably full of people generating body heat, too. Someone find out. And order them to stay back so they don't draw fire."
A young woman ran into the darkness.
Staffa frowned as he organized his thoughts. "The Mag Comm controls Makarta? The shocks must have damaged it." He stood as another blaster bolt ripped at the entrance, pitching dust and rock across the screening vegetation. "I need comm to the other entrances. Magister, send a runner through. I need to have the best-armed veterans ready to hold the'entrances. "
Bruen waved to a boy who left at a run. "And then what, Lord Commander? We could send teams to work on the blocked tunnels. We can hold the entrances, but what about another orbital strike? Will the mountain take it?"
"Crib up portions of the tunnels which your geologists tell you are the most stable," Staffa ordered. "It's a chance. In the meantime, I need to coordinate our defensive capabilities. From the looks of things out there, any sally would be an invitation to disaster."
Bruen sighed heavily. "So much for your maneuverability."
Staffa chuckled dryly. "Yes, so much for that. We're bottled for the moment. If we try and—"
He threw himself flat as rock, fire, and dust erupted from the entrance, concussion blasting through the tunnel. In the aftermath, grit and pebbles cascaded, light blotted by swirl-;
ing dust,
"Looks like they got the range," a woman remarked, puling herself up to dab at a cut on her face.
Staffa coughed the dust from his lungs and nodded. "That's why we can't take them head on." He pulled himself to his feet, darting further into the darkness. Three men were passing out shoulder blasters and partial suits of armor.
Staffa inspected Bruen critically. "If you're up to it, I need to see a schematic of Makarta. If they've covered the, holes, perhaps we can make a new one where they don't expect it."
They took off down the passage, following a man with a light bar. Halfway to the meeting rooms, the lights flickered and began glowing. From somewhere, air began moving, bowing the dust toward the outside.;
"Looks like the Mag Comm is on the job again," Bruen said dryly. "In spite of our troubles, I enjoyed a momentary relief believing it was dead."
Staffa nodded, turning to the nearest wall comm. "Get'. me the entrances."
One by one they checked in. "This is Wilm. They've been hitting each of the escape routes with heavy fire. Softening us up, I'd guess."
Staffa nodded. "Watch out. They'll try and take you by force in a concerted rush." Or would they?
He turned. "Magister, I need a schematic of the tunnels. Your Fist is no one's fool. He's on a mining planet." -
"Of course, Targa's a mining planet. We have equipment here ourselves. I just sent most of it off to clear the tunnels." Bruen muttered. A dark blue bruise swelled ugly over one eye." He looked up. "What are you thinking?";
"Were I Fist, I wouldn't try the entrances. Too good a way to get people killed. No, I'd soak-off there. Tie up the defenders. While they fought to hold the entrances, I'd use
mining equipment to drive a new bore into an abandoned section of Makarta."
Buen gave him a quizzical inspection. "How did you think of that?"
"I'm making assumptions based on what your people were telling me about his tactics. If he's no smarter than any other Regan officer, Rysta's people would have cut him to chowder. Given that, how would you break Makarta without bleeding yourself dry in the process? I'll bet he's going to do exactly what I would." Staffa shook his head, eyes narrowed. "If I'm wrong, we'll be out of here in a couple of days. If I'm right. this could be very interesting, Bruen."
"Quick," Bruen snapped at one of the Initiates. "Get details with geophones into the areas closest to the surface." He turned to comm. "Kaskel? Drud? Fricks? Get our equipment back here!"