The Backlash Mission

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."

Kwon nodded and cut loose with another long stream of jaw-cracking Ryqrili. Haven gnawed at his lip, painfully aware that time was on the aliens' side. If they didn't crack quickly, the blackcollars would have not only the Corsairs but also the full brunt of Capstone Security to deal with.

Abruptly, a faint alien voice drifted out of the blockhouse. "Tlesahae—khreena," it said... and Haven let out a long sigh.

"Now," Kwon cautioned, "let's see if they really mean it."

They apparently did. A moment later two figures emerged from the blockhouse and headed toward the gate. O'Hara, Haven signaled, objective moving our way. Confirm Ryqril still pinned.

Acknowledged. Warriors still pinned.

"I'm going out to take fall-back position," Haven told Kwon, sheathing his slingshot and reaching for one of the ropes. "Pull our people out carefully—I don't want any last-minute cuteness on the cockroaches' part."

"Got it. Watch for tricks out there, too."

But the Ryqril made no attempts to renege on their deal. It was almost, Haven thought, as if the invasion of their supposedly impenetrable enclave had so rattled them that thoughts of resistance never entered their minds. Whatever the reason, it reduced by one the number of obstacles they had yet to face. Keeping half his attention on the ground and the other half on the sky, he watched and waited.

Minutes later the exchange was complete. The two figures were outside the enclave, the failed Ryqril sortie back inside behind the closed gate. Haven hurried forward, knowing that as the blackcollars pulled out the danger of enemy retaliation increased dramatically. The blackcollar assault force was appearing over the wall now, and as the first of them slid to the ground Spadafora and O'Hara drove into sight with the cars they'd appropriated from a nearby parking area. They headed for the two figures too, arriving at the same time as Haven.

"Who's that, Taurus Haven?" the older woman said, voice tense and quavering slightly as she peered at Haven's goggled face. "It's about time—we were starting to think you'd forgotten all about us."

"Don't be silly, Mrs. Pittman," Haven chided her gently, ushering the two women toward the waiting cars. "It's just that some things take time."

—

The tally was impressive, and beyond Haven's most optimistic expectations: no one dead, only one incapacitated, and only a few other injuries that could be considered major. A definite and almost complete victory, he thought as they wheeled around and drove like banshees away from the Chimney.

The trick now was to get them all out of the Hub alive.

There hadn't been much real discussion on this phase of the operation, mainly because contingency planning didn't mean a hell of a lot when the assault team was going to have to get through both Hammerschmidt's forces and whatever the Ryqril had on hand to throw at them. It was going to be strictly a play-by-ear escape, and all of them knew it. Security's edge was in numbers; the blackcollars' was in superior training and a firm grip on the initiative.

It wasn't until they were halfway to the gate that it suddenly occurred to Haven that the expected Security forces had yet to show up.

"Where the hell are they?" he muttered to O'Hara, hunched over behind the wheel. "The Ryqril must have alerted them by now that we're here."

"Yeah, I've been wondering the same thing," O'Hara said. "Mrs. Pittman, Davette—did the Ryqril communicate with Security at all during the time you were in the blockhouse?"

"I'm afraid we don't understand Ryqrili," the older woman murmured, her eyes locked on the deserted street ahead.

"But they would've talked to Security in Anglic, Mother," the girl pointed out. Her attitude, Haven noticed, was almost serenely calm in the face of their danger—a toughness he'd often seen in her brother, as well. "None of them said anything in Anglic while we were in there, Commando Haven."

O'Hara cocked an eyebrow at Haven. "Maybe they really didn't alert Hammerschmidt. Could be they were so embarrassed at their fortress being breached that they wanted to handle things themselves."

"Or else they weren't sure they trusted Security not to take advantage of the opening themselves,"

Haven mused.

"Everyone in Security is loyalty-conditioned—"

"Yes, well, if blackcollars came charging into my fortress, I think I might suspect Security anyway,"

Haven said. "Or maybe they've just decided on a simple old-style ambush. Just keep your eyes open."

Haven didn't believe it himself, any more than O'Hara seemed to, and he was as surprised as any of them when the two cars arrived within sight of the south gate with still no signs of reaction. "At least," O'Hara commented as they glided to a halt by the curb a block from the metal mesh, "we've found where all the guards went. I was starting to wonder if they'd dropped off the planet."

"Um," Haven grunted. They'd found Security, all right: four carloads of them, anyway, grouped in defensive position around the gate as if still expecting an attack from outside the Hub. "At a guess I'd say Greene and his merry men have been keeping up the diversion pressure out here."

"Another good reason to have left us alone," O'Hara suggested. "Conventional wisdom would say the Ryqril could handle us themselves."

"Which begs the question of where the hell the Ryqril reaction is," Haven growled. Outside, the blackcollars from the second car were flitting shadowlike along the street toward the Security positions. If they really didn't know the blackcollars were behind them, they wouldn't have anyone watching their backs....

The results were inconclusive, but if there were sentries posted, they clearly weren't up to the job.

Minutes later, the entire Security force adequately neutralized, the cars sped through the gate and out into the relative safety of the city beyond. O'Hara turned at the first corner and pulled into a garage that opened before them, and as the car rolled inside, Haven caught a glimpse out the window of a dark craft riding high in the sky above them.

He smiled tightly. So the Ryqril had sent a Corsair or two after them. But if they'd held off attacking to avoid damaging their puppets in the Hub, they'd gambled away their last chance. Out here, among the common people and the labyrinth escape route he and Greene had set up, the aliens hadn't a hope in hell of catching them without burning down all of Capstone.

Which, it occurred to him, they might be willing to do. But that was out of his hands. His part of Project Christmas had been a success; the future repercussions were up to the universe at large.