expanse of deadly molecular wire. Blast fire roared over their head$.
"Alternate blast and concussion to plow that wire under."
The massed fire boiled the ground in front of them, and the dust swirled up into a purple storm. There were a dozen major explosions in fast succession, driving the dust even higher. Hark hugged the quaking ground. What had been the wirefield looked like the end of the world. The pale dust even blotted out the light of the blazing thunderhead above the domes.
"That's the mines."
"Stay down, there may be still be jumpers."
A jumper was a saucer-sized disk that, when triggered, jumped to a height of a meter and a half and then sprayed rotating fire through a full 360 degrees. Sure enough, there were flashes of swirling fire inside the dust. When they stopped, Rance ordered the troopers up again.
"Into the dust, it's perfect cover. Watch your step, though, there may still be coils of wire lying around. Take it slow and easy."
They moved cautiously into the dust cloud. They were walking almost blind. One of the recruits turned on his helmet light.
"Turn that damned thing off," Rance ordered. "You want to be a perfect target?" The light went off. The men pressed forward. The dust was starting to settle. They were all covered with a fine purple film. They were about to get through the wirefield unscathed when somebody began screaming.
"My foot! My goddamn foot! It's gone. The wire got me!"
Again Rance was directly there.
"Calm down! Get a seal dressing on the bleeding and lie down, try and dig yourself in. The e-vac will pick you up. In the meantime, your suit will take care of the pain." The screaming sank to a drugged whimper as the suit blanketed its wearer with secreted analgesics.
"Move on," Rance told the others. "He'll be okay. Watch your own feet." The dust had drifted and settled and was no longer any use as cover. There was firing all around, but none of it was directed at them and the majority of it came from Alliance weapons, not those of the Yal. There was a bout of ragged cheering as the first human troops reached the base of the dome. A port in the dome
opened, and a squad of chibas rushed out, firing the weapons that they had instead of hands. They were quickly burned down.
"Okay, hold it. We can stop right here. The sappers can move up to the dome. The rest of us will hold this position."
They were standing on the edge of a trench filled with dead chibas. They had been dead only for a matter of minutes, and already they were starting to decay. The yellow-gray flesh was liquefying away from the metal skeletons that had supported it, turning back into the oily protein goop whence it had come. Nobody was in any particular hurry to get into the trench, and fortunately that didn't seem necessary. The only firing still going on was the mopping up of scattered chiba positions. Hark couldn't believe that it had actually happened, that it was over. He felt sick and dizzy—he believed that he would never be able to face food again. His hands shook except when he clutched his MEW, and yet, if anyone had yelled "Run," he would have run with desperation.
"Take the weight off but stay alert," Rance ordered.
Renchett had his knife out. "You want us to go and mop up the stragglers?"
"You've had your share of butchery for the day."
Renchett shrugged and sheathed the knife. The sappers were stringing explosives. Rance looked at the huge bulk of the dome and refused to imagine what might be happening inside the monster. He'd been inside Yal installations a number of times, and they always made him feel bad. They were just too alien. The outside was quite enough. What culture would fashion this gigantic curve of what looked like semi-polished purple stone? They must know what was about to be done to them. How did Yal panic?
Rance shook his head and looked away. Hark was staring back in the direction from which they had come. The poor bastard probably didn't believe what
had happened to
"Alternate blast and concussion to plow that wire under."
The massed fire boiled the ground in front of them, and the dust swirled up into a purple storm. There were a dozen major explosions in fast succession, driving the dust even higher. Hark hugged the quaking ground. What had been the wirefield looked like the end of the world. The pale dust even blotted out the light of the blazing thunderhead above the domes.
"That's the mines."
"Stay down, there may be still be jumpers."
A jumper was a saucer-sized disk that, when triggered, jumped to a height of a meter and a half and then sprayed rotating fire through a full 360 degrees. Sure enough, there were flashes of swirling fire inside the dust. When they stopped, Rance ordered the troopers up again.
"Into the dust, it's perfect cover. Watch your step, though, there may still be coils of wire lying around. Take it slow and easy."
They moved cautiously into the dust cloud. They were walking almost blind. One of the recruits turned on his helmet light.
"Turn that damned thing off," Rance ordered. "You want to be a perfect target?" The light went off. The men pressed forward. The dust was starting to settle. They were all covered with a fine purple film. They were about to get through the wirefield unscathed when somebody began screaming.
"My foot! My goddamn foot! It's gone. The wire got me!"
Again Rance was directly there.
"Calm down! Get a seal dressing on the bleeding and lie down, try and dig yourself in. The e-vac will pick you up. In the meantime, your suit will take care of the pain." The screaming sank to a drugged whimper as the suit blanketed its wearer with secreted analgesics.
"Move on," Rance told the others. "He'll be okay. Watch your own feet." The dust had drifted and settled and was no longer any use as cover. There was firing all around, but none of it was directed at them and the majority of it came from Alliance weapons, not those of the Yal. There was a bout of ragged cheering as the first human troops reached the base of the dome. A port in the dome
opened, and a squad of chibas rushed out, firing the weapons that they had instead of hands. They were quickly burned down.
"Okay, hold it. We can stop right here. The sappers can move up to the dome. The rest of us will hold this position."
They were standing on the edge of a trench filled with dead chibas. They had been dead only for a matter of minutes, and already they were starting to decay. The yellow-gray flesh was liquefying away from the metal skeletons that had supported it, turning back into the oily protein goop whence it had come. Nobody was in any particular hurry to get into the trench, and fortunately that didn't seem necessary. The only firing still going on was the mopping up of scattered chiba positions. Hark couldn't believe that it had actually happened, that it was over. He felt sick and dizzy—he believed that he would never be able to face food again. His hands shook except when he clutched his MEW, and yet, if anyone had yelled "Run," he would have run with desperation.
"Take the weight off but stay alert," Rance ordered.
Renchett had his knife out. "You want us to go and mop up the stragglers?"
"You've had your share of butchery for the day."
Renchett shrugged and sheathed the knife. The sappers were stringing explosives. Rance looked at the huge bulk of the dome and refused to imagine what might be happening inside the monster. He'd been inside Yal installations a number of times, and they always made him feel bad. They were just too alien. The outside was quite enough. What culture would fashion this gigantic curve of what looked like semi-polished purple stone? They must know what was about to be done to them. How did Yal panic?
Rance shook his head and looked away. Hark was staring back in the direction from which they had come. The poor bastard probably didn't believe what
had happened to
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