Chapter 36

It was three in the morning, and Haven was collecting his gear for another sortie outside the equipment shed, when the scout ship from Earth reached Plinry orbit and sent its prearranged radio signal... and from the outer parts of Capstone, Dayle Greene activated Project Christmas.

Haven paused, listening as three distant explosions came faintly to his ears: one each from the Hub's eastern, southern, and western gates, Greene's signal to him and the nine other hidden blackcollars that the climax of the operation had begun. The blasts weren't particularly powerful, Haven knew, certainly nothing that could actually bring the gates down. But Security under Hammerschmidt's command was eminently predictable, and within minutes the Hub's forces would be racing to the wall to prepare for invasion.

Which would leave the Chimney virtually undefended against the blackcollars arrayed against it.

Undefended, that is, except for a cadre of Ryqril guards and four multimegawatt lasers.

Haven gritted his teeth and eased out onto the roof. The whole thing was coming down a few days ahead of the anticipated schedule, but his force was really about as ready as it ever would be. The only question still hanging over them was whether or not the lasers had been adequately dealt with...

and unfortunately there was only way to find out.

Security's reaction began as the blackcollar sidled to the corner of the equipment shed and carefully laid out his equipment. In the near distance cars started up and roared off toward the wall, and as Haven unfolded his sniper's slingshot he saw a spotter craft southward shoot off to the west. The spotters were a potential problem, he knew, but one they would just have to live with. At least the rows of Corsairs sitting on the ground at the 'port would be out of the way soon, assuming that the scout pilot up there played his role properly.

And if he did, Haven knew, odds were good those Corsairs would blast him out of the sky. The blackcollar winced once, then put the thought firmly out of his mind. Some of the blackcollars waiting silently nearby would likely be dead within the hour, too, and dwelling on either possibility was counterproductive.

He had just set a large, silvery ball into his slingshot's pouch when the city lit up around him.

Dropping flat to the roof, he eased a goggled eye around the shed in time to see one of the wall-top lasers swivel upward and fire.

He grinned tightly. The drone pods the scout pilot was dumping out by the hundreds over the city were perfectly harmless, but the Ryqril had no way of knowing that. The laser swiveled fractionally, fired again; a second later the other three joined in the battle as the cloud of falling pods came within their respective ranges. Aiming, firing, reaiming—all of them operating at blinding electrical speed.

Or rather, two of them were, the ones at the back corners of the Chimney. But the two nearer ones, the ones that he, O'Hara, and Spadafora had spent over a week pelting with radioactive putty...

They were slow. Incredibly slow. The kind of slow that could only mean they were being aimed and fired manually. In other words, Hawking's damn crazy trick had actually worked.

Haven took a deep breath and set his slingshot brace against his arm. Slow against distant specks in the sky would still be fast enough to vaporize blackcollar commandos trying to scale the Chimney wall. One last shot... and if it wasn't perfect all the rest would have been for nothing.

He waited with forced patience, watching the laser's movements for just the right moment, and as the weapon twisted upward and paused momentarily he let the pellet fly. Through his binoculars he saw it hit squarely in the middle of the exposed gimbal mechanism—

And squeezed his eyes shut as it flared with blue-white light.

There wouldn't be any direct damage, of course—the hullmetal gimbal ring was designed to withstand attacks by other high-power lasers, and Haven's simple thermite bomb would hardly even strain its heat sink. But high-power lasers didn't splatter molten metal all over the place—molten metal that the laser's own heat sink would help solidify. And with the weapon on manual control, it was likely to sit in virtually that same position long enough for the metal to congeal.

It was doubtful that the laser's operator even realized anything was wrong with the gimbals until the first of the grappling-equipped ropes caught on the wall next to the weapon and he tried to lower its aim. Haven held his breath as the laser strained against the strands of metal bracing it into its upward position... but the delicately balanced mechanism had been designed for speed, not power, and it struggled in vain. A quick glance at the Chimney's next corner showed the other laser had similarly been rendered helpless.

And a quarter of the enclave's perimeter wall was suddenly defenseless.

Reaching for his tingler, Haven tapped out a quick message. But the ground troops had already figured out that their keyhole was clear and four more ropes snaked their way to the top of the wall.

Spadafora, O'Hara: Stay on backup, Haven signaled; and with one last quick assessment of the ground situation he headed back for the stairs at a dead run.

By the time he reached the dangling ropes and climbed up the Chimney wall, the other blackcollars had gone down the inside, and from the sounds and laser flashes coming from the enclave the battle was in full swing. "Situation?" Haven asked Charles Kwon, the latter stretched out under the disabled laser with a sniper's slingshot in hand.

"Most of the resistance is coming from that building over there," Kwon reported, nodding toward a squat blockhouse near the heavy gate. "Three Ryqril got through the gate, but since they haven't shown up down below I presume O'Hara and Spadafora have them pinned down. Three of ours are blocking any further sortie attempts; the other three went that way, toward the housing unit."

Haven nodded. "Any sign of Corsairs yet?"

"No, but from where I was it looked like the whole Plinry contingent was heading up to deal with the scout ship and pods before we made our move. If we hurry—"

He broke off, shifting aim and firing his slingshot toward a shadowy figure that had appeared around a building below. The Ryq jerked with the impact, his laser shot going wild. Before he could recover, a shuriken flickered across the courtyard from one of the half-hidden blackcollars. The alien flopped backward and lay still. "If we hurry," Kwon continued, reloading his slingshot, "we may get out of here before we have to worry about the Corsairs."

"We can hope." Haven tapped at his tingler. De Vries, Anderson: Situation?

De Vries; minimal Ryqril warrior presence—all forces effectively pinned down.

Anderson; have gained access to civilian quarters; objective not in sight.

"Maybe we should just go for a straight trade," Kwon suggested. "Their civilians for—"

De Vries; objective sighted in warrior blockhouse.

Haven grunted. "Cute. The roaches probably hustled 'em over there when the scout started shoveling out the pods. You called it, Kwon—got the hailer handy?"

In answer the other blackcollar pulled out a small box, set it to his lips. "Khray hresakh tlahiin, Ryqril-ahz," he called, his voice booming from the tiny amplifier. "Razenix ylay-kiy qhadi..."

Haven listened with half an ear, the rest of his attention on the situation below. There was no guarantee the Ryqril commander would go for this; the other could just as easily decide to try to hold out until the Corsairs could bring firepower to bear from the air. Twisting his head, Haven took a quick look at the gimbal mechanism of the laser towering over him. It was supposed to be incapable of firing into the enclave itself, but with sufficient leverage at the proper places it might be possible to swivel it past its restraints. "Remind them we have two of their defense lasers at our disposal up here," he instructed Kwon. "We can probably turn it against the enclave directly; we can certainly shoot holes in their returning Corsairs if they choose to be stubborn."