“Boot, don’t spatter?” Suarez quoted.
Connors smiled. It was so good to work for a man who knew what he was doing.
“You have lifted the interdiction of the humans’ radio traffic?” the Rinn Fain asked.
“Yes, lord,” the Indowy technician answered. “But we are continuing to monitor for an appropriate time to reimpose it.”
“Show me the deployment of the Posleen forces.”
Another holographic map popped up, which the Rinn Fain studied closely.
“Very interesting,” he said, noting the tens of thousands of Posleen moving off the main road and taking cover in the hidden valleys to the north of it. “This is a clever Kessentai leading these people. He does not know we are helping him, but he sees the results of that assistance and acts accordingly. How goes the attack on the humans’ warships?”
“That has been a great success, lord,” the Indowy answered. “Two of the three seem to be pulling out of range of their own guns’ ability to support. The last was never meant to stand alone.”
“It troubles me, Indowy,” the Darhel said, tapping a finger to its needle-sharp teeth contemplatively, “that the last ship is able to resist us. Its AID should not be able to do so.”
“I have some suspicions about that, lord,” the Indowy whispered. “I have checked. Simple insanity is not unknown among Artificial Intelligences. But these are invariably older AIDS. The AID in the human warship is virtually brand new.”
“And so?” the Rinn Fain prodded.
“I have run simulations, lord, at much faster than real time. I have discovered that such insanity is possible if a new AID is left alone and turned on for too long a time.”
“Do you think this happened?”
“I do not know, lord. But I have sent a query out over the Net as to whether that AID might somehow have been turned on before packing.”
Interlude
Guano and Zira lay on their bellies, fishing poles in hand. They moved the poles up and down, more or less rhythmically, to keep the baited hooks moving. They spoke only in whispers. Zira suspected that the vibrations of loud voices would reach the water and frighten off the fish.
“This is pretty boring, Zira,” Guano said softly.
“Is an ambush boring, young Kessentai? Think of it as an ambush.”
Guano really had no answer to that. He was too young ever to have participated in an ambush. He tried to imagine one, waiting with beating heart for an unsuspecting enemy to show up, never knowing if the enemy would be too great to take on — even with surprise — and never knowing if the enemy had spotted the ambush and was even now circling to…
“Wake up, Guano,” came the urgent whisper. “I think one of the little darlings is sniffing at your bait.”
“Wha’ WHAT?”
The tugging at the line that Zira had seen stopped abruptly.
“Shshsh. Quietly. There’s one of the fish that was at your bait.”
Guano quieted down and watched the line intently. Sure enough, the line was moving erratically, in a way that indicated something was nibbling at the hook. Suddenly, there was a strong tug.
“You’ve got him, Guano, now pull once, medium hard, to set the hook.”
Guano pulled on the fishing pole, feeling a plainly live weight on the other end. “Yeehaw!” he exulted, though the Posleen word was more along the line of “Tel’enaa!”
“Its mouth might be soft,” Zira counseled. “Let it run about until it tires.”
For fifteen minutes Guano did just that, giving the fish some room to run and then slowly and carefully bringing it back. By the end of that time, the piscine was running out of steam, its tugs on the line and pole growing weaker.
“Very good, young Kessentai,” Ziramoth commended. “Now pull it above water… gently.”
The pole bent nearly double as Guanamarioch pushed down on the end while slowly lifting from near the middle. With a splash, a foot and a half long greenish gray creature appeared above the water, its tail flapping to one side and then the other as it sought purchase in water that was now too far beneath it.
“Dinner,” said Zira, “is served.”
Chapter 17
And when we have wakened the lust of a foe,
To draw him by flight toward our bullies we go,
Till, ’ware of strange smoke stealing nearer, he flies
Or our bullies close in for to make him good prize.
Nineteen B- and C-Decs for each of the enemy water vessels should be more than enough, Binastarion thought as the fifty-seven low-flying craft glided soundlessly by a few hundred meters overhead. This close to the surface and this close together the spacecraft moved comparatively slowly, wary lest they make disastrous contact with the ground or with each other. In addition, each B- or C-Dec was accompanied by anywhere from seven to eighteen tenar.
As the Posleen craft passed, the People below the flotilla, Kessentai and normal alike, felt a strange and unpleasant tingling sensation both inside and out.
May you do more than tingle our enemies, my children.
“We’ve got trouble, Captain,” Daisy’s avatar reported. “Lidar shows enemy vessels approaching… fifty-two… fifty-four… no… fifty-seven of them. They’re deployed in three broad wedges. My guess, though it is more than a guess, is that two of them are heading for Texas and Salem. The third is behind those two, more spread out.”
McNair scratched his head, uncertainly. “Looking for us, do you think, Daisy?”
“Likely, Captain,” the hologram answered.
“Get me the admiral and Salem,” McNair ordered.
The center screen came on live again. “Graybeal here. I see them, Jeff. They’re below, well below, Texas’ ability to engage.”
McNair swallowed hard before continuing. This was the difficult decision: to risk your greatest love, your command, on behalf of a mission.
“Sir… I think you and Salem should fall away to the south. Des Moines will intercept.”
McNair risked a glance at Daisy. Her hologram was flickering less now.
“I’m devoting less power to defending Salem,” Daisy answered when McNair asked.
“You’re okay with this?” McNair asked.
Daisy’s holographic chest seemed to swell, if that were possible, with pride.
“Captain, I’m a warship. This is what I do.”
The admiral interjected, asking of Salem’s captain, “Sid, have you managed to get any defense up for yourself?”
“Three of the six secondary turrets are manned and manually operating, sir. That’s the best I can do with what I have. But, sir, you ought to know that we have no radar or lidar interface or guidance. We can engage manually but only straight line of sight and even then only at fairly short range.”
“How truly good,” the admiral said sardonically. “Very well, Sidney, head south to sea. Texas will follow. McNair? Intercept… and good hunting.”
Ah, the never-ending joys of the hunt, the Kessentai in command of the ship thought. His landing group’s target, assigned by the glorious Binastarion personally, was the known of the two lesser enemy surface warships. The location of the other was, at best, approximated on the Kessentai’s view-screen.