‘Let us at them, Titus Valerius.’
‘Don’t sound too eager, Scorpus, will you? Now then, shut up and let me concentrate on that cursed tree.’
The testudo carried a rack of missiles, and there was a simple sight stencilled on the forward window. All Titus had to do, Gnaeus knew, was to line up the sight mark directly on the trunk of the tree, which was a conveniently vertical and highly visible target. They reached a comparatively smooth stretch of track, the jolting of the vehicle subsided, comparatively – and Titus at last closed the firing switch.
When the missiles flew the testudo rattled and bounced, and the men cheered. The missiles were powered only by Xin fire-of-life powder with an oxidising compound, Gnaeus knew, but they delivered a kick when they soared away anyhow. Gnaeus could see the missiles swoop in, burning low over the ground, with the Brikanti scattering from their path – and then that tent over the tree blew apart in filmy shreds, an instant before the missiles slammed into the base of the tree itself, not far above a mighty, sprawling root system. A fireball swathed the lower trunk, stretching perhaps fifty paces up into the air. Just for an instant it wasn’t clear if the damage done to the tree had been terminal, and Gnaeus, who had contributed to the calculations of the missile power necessary, felt a twinge of anxiety. He could see the Brikanti troops standing, turning, peering up at their tree in dismay.
But then the upper trunk leaned, visibly, and there was a crack, loud in the thin air.
‘Ha!’ Titus roared. ‘We did it, boys! We broke the back of their god. Now let’s break a few Brikanti heads!’ He wrenched at his drive levers, and the testudo turned and skidded to a halt in a spray of dust.
The big doors immediately slammed open, and the men released their buckles and were out of the hull in heartbeats, just as they’d been trained. They immediately closed with the Brikanti on the ground, who were still forming up, still raising their weapons.
By the time Gnaeus Junius had followed Titus out of the testudo, the battle was joined. He found himself surrounded by warriors in heavily armoured pressure suits colliding clumsily with each another, many wielding weapons that would have been impossibly heavy if not for the Martian gravity – and all of them trying to get at the Brikanti. Nobody was using ballistae, or other fire-of-life weapons, Gnaeus noticed. These were space-going soldiers, on both sides; the inhibition against using such weapons in fragile extraterrestrial environments must run deep. So it was swords and knives, hand to hand.
Gnaeus was relieved to see that they were nowhere near the falling trunk of the tree, which continued to topple, almost gracefully. But the air was full of the cracks and groans of shattering wood, bits of ripped bark and shredded trunk came flying out of a rising dust cloud, and there were even shreds of the destroyed pressure tent tumbling in the air. It was almost impossible to remember that this was just a diversion, meant to distract the Brikanti troops from their spacecraft and Earthshine’s bunker, the true targets of the operation.
It was chaos. It was glorious. His own blood surging, Gnaeus drew his gladio and charged into the fray.
CHAPTER 29
As Kerys and Freydis came fluttering down from the sky under their leather wings, one officer stayed at her post before the Celyn.
As soon as she hit the ground, as soon as her boots crunched on Martian dust, Kerys shucked off her wings, letting them subside in the thin air, and stalked towards the waiting officer. Stalked – you couldn’t really stalk in low gravity, and that was a perennial problem for officers working in these conditions and trying to look imposing. It was more that she glided across the ground with a commanding air.
But she kept her gaze locked firmly on the officer who was standing between her and the Celyn. The officer wore a standard Brikanti Navy-issue pressure suit, with shoulder flashes to show her rank. From what Kerys could see of her face, she looked young, younger even than Freydis. And she hefted a heavy projectile weapon, not lowering it as Kerys approached.
Kerys halted only paces from the officer. Still that weapon didn’t waver, though its muzzle was only a hand’s breadth from Kerys’s chest. And still the officer held her place, though the fear and uncertainty were obvious in her eyes. Kerys felt a stab of sympathy, and shame at what she had to do.
She made sure the officer had seen her own shoulder flashes, and recognised her rank of nauarchus. Then she switched her communications to a standard channel and snapped, ‘Your name?’
‘That is irrelevant, nauarchus. With respect. Our orders – my orders – were to secure this vessel against intruders. And—’
‘Your name,’ Kerys repeated silkily. ‘You see my uniform. What harm can it do to tell me your name?’
‘Gerloc,’ she said at last. ‘My name is Gerloc. I come from Atrebatu, which is—’
‘I don’t care where Atrebatu is. So, Gerloc. I can see you’re a druidh.’
‘Yes. My Navy rank and druidh level are—’
Kerys waved that away. ‘And you’re a Navy officer. This is a Navy vessel.’
‘Yes, nauarchus.’
‘You say your orders were to secure this vessel against intruders.’
‘Yes, nauarchus.’
‘Very well.’ Kerys glanced around, deliberately casual. Then she forced herself to scream in the girl’s face. ‘And do I look like an intruder to you?’
‘No! I mean, yes – nauarchus.’
‘Did you not hear the instructions my ship broadcast?’
‘Yes. But we had no orders concerning your arrival. The Roman ship that brought you here, we had no clearance, and then your descent on the wings without calling ahead—’
Kerys deliberately backed off. She said more calmly, ‘Have you never heard of a snap inspection? What use would that be if my arrival was heralded in advance, as if I was some pompous Caesar returning to the fleshpots of Rome?’
The girl didn’t budge. ‘But, nauarchus—’
Kerys held a hand to the side of her helmet, and the other palm up. ‘Hush. Can you not hear that? That’s your own trierarchus giving me clearance. You’re to stand aside. Aren’t you getting it? Maybe your equipment is faulty.’
Gerloc lifted her free hand to her own helmet, and with a troubled expression glanced away from Kerys.
That moment was all Kerys needed. She stepped inside the arc of the weapon, grabbed Gerloc’s helmet with two hands, and yanked it forward. The back of Gerloc’s head clattered against her helmet, and she was immediately rendered unconscious. Kerys carefully lowered her to the Martian ground, while behind her Freydis hurried forward to collect Gerloc’s weapon.
‘That was kind of you, nauarchus,’ Freydis said. ‘Relatively.’
Kerys knelt over the girl. ‘I hated having to do that. This one stood her ground while the rest of the idiots around her went running off in pursuit of glory. Stood her ground in spite of all the pressure I could bring to bear on her. She had her orders, and she obeyed them, and this is her reward, from me, her commanding officer. At least I was able to spare her a broken nose or a few lost teeth.’
Freydis looked up at the sky. ‘Nauarchus, maybe we’d better get moving. That thing in the sky isn’t slowing down any.’
‘Too true. Come on, Freydis. Keep your weapons ready. Try not to kill, but if you have to—’
‘I can see there’s a greater good, nauarchus.’
‘There is indeed. I want this bucket to be off the ground in an hour, or less.’ She looked down at the inert body of Gerloc, who looked as if she was peacefully sleeping. ‘Help me haul her aboard the Celyn.’