Starfishers Triology - Shadowline Part 34

"That he is. And he can be just as nasty as he wants as long as he does his job. I feel a thousand percent better now."

"Sir," commtech said a few minutes later, "I have Colonel Walters again."

"Put him over here."

"Mouse?" Ca.s.sius said, "Sorry about snapping. It's the nerves, I guess. It's grim out here. As your father would put it, the Oriflamme is up."

Pollyanna frowned a question. Mouse whispered, "No quarter given or asked."

Ca.s.sius continued, "We're in a bad spot. n.o.body can back down. It's all or nothing, and the losers die the death-without-resurrection."

"I understand, Ca.s.sius. We're all under pressure."

"Your uncle has got what he wanted. His battle to the death." A nasty smile crossed Walters's mouth. "I don't think the fool counted on being part of it, though."

"No. One thing. He doesn't know about Father yet. I want to save that as a special surprise. Let him count on that last-minute protection till it's too late."

"But of course! That's why I wanted to keep it quiet."

"The Legion never fought this bitterly," Mouse said.

"Never before. We've got an emotional stake in this one, Mouse."

Had it not been for the topographical advantages, Michael's crew would have been obliterated long since. Dee's men were good fighters, but they were not soldiers, not in the sense that the Legionnaires were. They were unaccustomed to extensive teamwork and the complexities of large, enduring operations. Though largely of human origin, they were tainted with the Sangaree raid-and-run philosophy.

"Michael's people aren't doing bad."

"They're cornered. I've got to get back to it. I just wanted to say sorry for growling."

"It's all right."

Ca.s.sius's battalions shoved Dee deeper and deeper into the Whitlandsund. The lines facing Edgeward had been thin and unprepared for a heavy stroke.

The hours cranked along. Mouse sat that chair till his behind began to ache. Pollyanna remained beside him, partly because she was interested in events, partly because she sensed his need for a bridge to the Mouse that used to be.

Dee's resistance stiffened.

"He's figured it out," Mouse said. "He's shifting men now."

Ca.s.sius kept the pressure on. At the far end of the pa.s.s Legionnaires from the Shadowline began to make headway against defenses weakened by the removal of men shifted to halt Ca.s.sius.

Pollyanna touched his hand lightly. "You think we're going to do it?"

"Uhm? What?"

"Win."

"I don't know. Yet. I think the odds are shifting." He caught fragments of tactical chatter. Ca.s.sius was moving Ceislak's commando battalion into position.

Hours dragged on. Finally, Pollyanna whispered, "You've got to rest before you collapse."

"But..."

"Your being here or not won't change anything, Mouse. They can tell you if they need you."

"You're right. I won't be any good to anybody if I pa.s.s out from exhaustion. I'll stagger over to the apartment..."

Pollyanna went with him.

When he returned to the war room he carried a ravenshrike on his shoulder. The commtechs' eyes widened. A secret understanding seemed to pa.s.s among them. Mouse surveyed the boards as the warhounds began their fruitless search for enemies.

He sensed the change in the men. They had accepted the shift in power. It was not a matter of humoring the Old Man's kid anymore. He had become the Old Man.

The boards did not look good. Things had gone static.

"Sir," one of the commtechs said, "Colonel Walters would like to speak with you at your convenience."

"Okay. Get hold of him."

Ca.s.sius was on the scrambled trunk in minutes. "Coming up with a few problems, Mouse. We've pushed them from both sides till we've got them surrounded in a big crater. They've dug in on the outside of the ringwalls, where they can fire down into the pa.s.s. They've pulled back into a small enough circle so that they can run men from one place to another faster than I can make surprise attacks. I was going to cut them up one place at a time. Slice off a little group and take them prisoner. They've managed to keep me from doing it. Looks like it could turn into an old-fashioned siege."

"There're thirty thousand people in the Shadowline who don't have time for that, Ca.s.sius. They're running out of air."

"I've heard the reports."

The breathables situation was becoming dangerous. Food and water were good for weeks yet, with rationing, but there was no way to cut back on a fighting man's air. Recycling was never completely efficient, and lately the equipment had begun to deteriorate.

Mouse said, "I got the medical people started putting the wounded into cryo storage yesterday. We can resurrect them when we open the pa.s.s. They suggested we do the same to Meacham's people."

"They have the cryo storage facilities?"

"No. Not enough."

"I may start using some of Hawksblood's people. If I can get them over to this side."

"Why?"

"Sometimes you run out of ways to finesse. Then the only thing left is the hammer. Hit hard, with everything you got, and grit your teeth about the casualties."

"Your munitions picture don't look good for something like that."

"That doesn't bother me as much as the air situation. It looks like Michael will run dry first. His fire patterns show he's trying to conserve ammunition."

"That's a plus."

"I don't know. What I'm afraid of is having to offer terms so we can save the people across the way. I think that's what he's doing now. Trying to hold on till we're ready to trade his outfit for ours."

Mouse glanced at a depressing visual from Blake's shade station. The station was surrounded by a tide of emergency domes occupied by men waiting to be evacuated or sent into action. The encampment grew steadily as Hawksblood's men and Twilight's miners filtered in. Dee could lose his war and still win a Pyrrhic victory.

Mouse looked over at charts listing the various crawlers and their status. "Ca.s.sius, we're going to be in trouble no matter what. We don't have enough crawlers to get everybody out."

"So don't be proud. Ask your neighbors for help. Have Blake call the City of Night and Darkside Landing and beg for help if he has to."

"We've tried once. They say they won't risk their equipment if there's fighting going on."

"Keep trying, boy. I'm looking it over here. I'm going to try one more big push, then see what Michael is willing to d.i.c.ker about."

"Don't deal. Not unless there's no choice."

"Of course not. I saw the trap that got your father into."

Mouse summoned one of the techs. "See if you can find Mr. Blake. Ask him to come down."

Blake joined him a half-hour later. Pollyanna accompanied him.

"Mr. Blake, could you try Darkside Landing and City of Night again? You can tell them the fighting will be over before they can get their equipment here."

The worn wreck of a man in the wheelchair showed a sudden interest in life. "Really? You've finally got them?"

"Not exactly. We're going to try one more push, then negotiate if it fails."

Blake protested. Boiling anger resurrected the man who had ruled the Corporation till the impact of the Shadowline War had driven him into hiding.

"My feelings exactly," Mouse agreed. "I don't want any of them getting away. But we may have no choice. It could be negotiate or let the men in the Shadowline die."

"d.a.m.n! All this slaughter for nothing."

"Almost. We could console ourselves with the thought that my uncle isn't getting what he wants, either. In a way, even if he negotiates his way out of the Whitelandsund, he'll have lost more than we have. He'll be on the run for the rest of his life. He used nuclears. He served the Sangaree. Navy won't forgive that. They'll confiscate his property..."

Pollyanna had been rubbing Mouse's shoulders. Now her fingers tightened in a surprisingly strong grip. "You negotiate if you want. You make a deal for the Legion. You make a deal for Blake and Edgeward. But don't count me in, Mouse. Don't make any deal for me. August Plainfield got away once. He won't again."

Mouse leaned back, looked up. Her face betrayed pure hatred.

"You been drinking snake venom again?"

She squeezed so hard his shoulders ached. "Yes. I drink a liter with every meal."

"Wait." Mouse indicated the boards.

Ca.s.sius was starting his attack.

"Sir, he's sending in everybody this time," one of the techs reported. "He's even stripped the crawlers of their crews."

Mouse stood up. "Mr. Blake, find me a crawler. Anything that will run. I'm going out there."

Fifty-Six: 3032 AD

Ca.s.sius found himself a laserifle and climbed the crater ringwall.

The fighting was close, grim, and positional. Rock by rock, bunker by foxhole, his men flushed Dee's and drove them back. Man by man, they broke the Sangaree defense. The Legionnaires invested all their skill and fury. Dee nearly fought them to a standstill.

What had Michael said to make his people so d.a.m.ned stubborn? Ca.s.sius wondered.

"Wormdoom, this is Welterweight. I've got my hands on a prime chunk of ringwall rim real estate. Give me some big guns."

"You've got them, Welterweight."

Finally, Ca.s.sius thought. A break. He ordered all the artillery possible into the position Ceislak had seized.

The nets resounded with chatter about furious counterattacks and dwindling ammunition stocks. Ca.s.sius decided to join Ceislak. The man's position had to be held. It provided a platform from which the interior of the crater could be brought under fire.

He studied the fighting from the rim. It took time to fall into patterns. He had nothing but weapons flashes by which to judge.

"I think that last one was their last counterattack," Ceislak told him. "We're ready to finish them." Gesturing, he indicated the far rimwall. Heavy weapons flashes had begun to appear there. Legionnaires were coming over from the Shadowline side. Ceislak's bombardment had broken the stubborn defense of the ringwall.

A dwindling number of enemy weapons flashes indicated failing powerpacks and munitions supplies on the other side.

"Looks like we might manage it," someone said.

Walters turned slowly, wondering who had broken radio silence. One of a pair of figures, just joining the crowd and barely visible in the backflash of Ceislak's weapons, raised a hand in greeting.

"It's me. Masato. I said it looks like we've finally got them."

"That's Michael Dee down there," Ca.s.sius growled. "He'll still have three tricks up his sleeve. What the h.e.l.l are you doing here? You're the last Storm."

"It isn't a private war," was all Mouse said by way of defending his presence.

Ca.s.sius turned back to the crater. The boy was his father's son. There would be no talking him out of staying.

A flash illuminated the face of Mouse's companion. "d.a.m.n it, Mouse! What the h.e.l.l's the matter with you, bringing a girl out here?"

Pollyanna reminded him of that niece he had lost during the Ulantonid War. He felt strangely avuncular and protective. He was startled by an insight into his own ambivalent feelings toward Pollyanna. Tamra had meant a great deal to him.

The flashes on the far rim showed the Brightside troops making good headway. Michael's people seemed to be running out of ammo fast. Good. "Looks like we won't have to offer terms."

Mouse stuck with his previous contention. "She has as much right to be here as anybody. Her father..."

"Was I arguing? I've heard all about it." He caught a ghost of something in the timbre of Mouse's voice. The little s.l.u.t had gotten her hooks into another Storm. "Let's stick to business. It's time to find out if Michael's ready to give up."

Michael contacted him first.

One of Ca.s.sius's officers called on Command One.. "Sir, I've got Dee on a public frequency asking to parlay with Colonel Storm. What should I do?"