Chapter 43. Final Battle

MacArthur leaned against a tree trunk, seeking relief from the chill wind. It had been an arduous hike back down to the valley floor. Clouds scudded overhead, and desultory rain drops, heavy and frigid, plopped on the ground as gray-shrouded dusk descended on the valley. Most of the humans lay on the ground, wrapped in their ponchos, trying to sleep. Their number had been augmented by Tatum, Mendoza, and Schmidt, offsetting the absence of the injured Gordon, who had been left behind at High Camp. Fenstermacher had wanted to join the fighters, but Buccari ordered him to stay behind with Wilson and Tookmanian, to take care of the women and children. Buccari had also ordered Et Silmarn to remain behind. The konish scientist was their last best hope of establishing friendly relations; he could explain to konish authorities why earthlings were attacking and killing kones.

"Why can't we just hole up?" Petit whined. "They'll never find us."

MacArthur wanted to shout, but Shannon, still in pain, beat him to it. "Shut up, Petit!"

"Easy, Sarge!" Buccari sighed. She walked over to Petit. "Petit, if you want to go back, go. I won't ask you to join us if you're afraid."

The powerfully built man looked at the ground and shuffled his feet.

"We're committed," she continued, eyes flashing in the dim light. "We're almost out of ammo. Now's the time to capture weapons—to take charge of the situation. Now's the time to do what Tatum and Sergeant Shannon wanted to do all along. Et Silmarn says these are the only soldiers on the planet. It will take them months to get reinforcements. You've seen these guys in action. We can take them down, and if we capture the landers, we get our hands on more weapons, and on a radio. Do you understand? We can defend ourselves, and we can call in the fleet. We may never get another chance."

Petit nodded. "Yeah, Lieutenant. I'm sorry, sir," he mumbled.

Buccari slapped his shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile, her scarred face disturbingly powerful in the murky light.

MacArthur moved away from the somber cluster. He trudged up the heavily wooded rise shielding their campsite from the aliens. Tatum stood watch at the crest. MacArthur crawled on the wet ground until he lay by Tatum' s side. The two Marines peered through the damp dusk, looking down on the four evenly dispersed landers.

"How's it going, Sandy?" MacArthur asked.

"Just frigging wonderful, Mac," Tatum sniffed. Drops of rainwater fell from his cap brim. "Beats baby-sitting. I was beginning to think Lieutenant Buccari didn't trust me." He rolled onto an elbow and spat.

"She trusts you, Sandy. She wanted you here. She told me so herself."

Tatum looked at MacArthur. "No kidding? She said that?" "As sure as I am laying here in the mud," MacArthur replied. "She's something else, ain't she?"

MacArthur nodded.

Soft whistles floated into his awareness. MacArthur responded with two chirps, and Tonto hopped from the wet darkness. Tonto was not alone; six other hunters, including Captain and X.O., followed him up the valley slope. MacArthur' s spirits rose; they had reinforcements, too!

"Colonel, we have received orders from Planetary Defense Command to recover the landers and return to Kon. We are specifically directed to break contact with the aliens." The subordinate, on all four legs, stood at rigid attention Longo sat in his acceleration chair in the relative warmth of the landing module. Emperor-General Gorruk's removal from power was disturbing, but one objective continued to dominate his reasoning: the secret of the alien's interstellar power drives. If he could but gain that knowledge, his grasp on power would be secure. But how?

"We do not take orders from Planetary Defense," Longo snapped. "Status on security?"

"Colonel, overlapping security perimeters have been set up. Sensors have detected only indigenous animal life. Reconnaissance drones will launch as soon as the ceiling lifts, as you ordered."

"Very well," Longo replied. "No more games."

The winds slackened. A shiftless moon peeked through sodden clouds and then disappeared, leaving the night even darker, and from the blackness fell a miserable drizzle. Humans and hunters, cold and wet, huddled together.

"They got night vision cameras and IR detectors everywhere," MacArthur reported. "We saw ten bugs outside the modules, but they're too far inside the sensor perimeter. We might be able to pick them off in daylight, but it's a tough shot at night."

"We really scared them," Tatum added.

"Is there anyway we can take out the damn sensors?" Buccari asked.

"I've got some ideas—" MacArthur started to say.

Tonto, standing watch on the ridge, whistled softly. "Listen," Tatum whispered urgently.

In the distance, an angry high-pitched engine erupted into life.

"We've found them, Colonel," the subordinate reported. "They are near—within mortar range. Mortar crews are prepared."

Longo had not expected success so quickly. He turned up the temperature on his Genellan suit and moved quickly through the airlock hatch into the frigid darkness. The drones were controlled from the reconnaissance module housed in the last of the four landers in line. Walking across the soggy ash, Longo noted shadowy figures standing guard at the foot of each lander. Two separate groups of technicians, standing clear of the landers, huddled about their equipment, a silver-green luminescence from their electronics outlining their forms. Other soldiers remained inside the modules, out of the elements but on alert should any movement be detected within the perimeter. After hiking the full length of the secure area, Longo and his retinue boarded thereconnaissance module and moved into its cramped lab. Technicians came to attention.

"Carry on!" Longo ordered. "Where are they?"

Longo looked at the video with morbid satisfaction. The aliens showed as a cluster of fuzzy hot spots nestled within dark, cold, vertically-viewed vegetation. Occasionally, an extended arm or leg could be clearly perceived, as the hunted creatures milled about beneath the drone's camera.

"Do the mortar teams have telemetry?" Longo asked.

"Yes, most excellent Colonel!" the senior technician gushed. "Gravity, what are you waiting for?" Longo shouted. The images were dispersing.

"Y-y-your. your order to fire, most excel—"the subordinate said.

"Fire!" Longo screamed. "Fire! You idiot!"

The subordinate blurted commands into his radio, and a pair of hollow thumps sounded immediately. Mortar rounds sped into the night.

The angry engine hovered high over their heads, invisible in the night sky. Buccari squinted into the falling mists but to no avail.

"Move out, now!" Shannon ordered. He scrambled up the rise to see what was happening. Buccari followed, while MacArthur ran at the cliff dwellers, herding them, giving them panicky signals to move away from the area. They needed little inducement.

"Spread out and take cover uphill!" Shannon barked.

"What's the deal, Sarge?" Buccari said. "Can't we shoot it down?"

"Hell, can you see it?" Shannon asked, craning his neck to peer into the night. "Sounds like two of them. You better get moving, sir. Now!"

Burping gouts of flame erupted from the vicinity of the alien landers.

"Aw, shit!" Shannon exclaimed. "Everybody down! Incoming!" he bellowed into the night. The sergeant threw Buccari violently to the soggy ground, crushing her body with his own. Buccari's wind was knocked from her lungs, and her face was pushed into the muddy humus. She gasped for air. Suddenly the night was filled with shrill, screaming whistles. Explosions thundered into the ground, and Buccari felt Shannon's body jolt. The sergeant groaned softly and then was quiet.