When the Devil Dances

Mueller walked out of his quarters and looked down the valley as the first concussion of the space-based weaponry echoed up the mountains. He couldn’t see the SheVa gun from his angle, but he did see the signature of its firing and the track of the “silver bullet” heading down range. Nonetheless it was fairly obvious a major attack was underway and he stroked his chin for a moment thinking about what their mission should be. The recon groups were pretty useless in a heavy assault. But these Posleen were acting out of character already by using the landers to assault the Wall.

He stood there for a moment as other NCOs started to filter out of the barracks until he saw the flight of Posleen flying tanks.

“AID,” he said, holding his wrist up where the device could observe them. “Do you see those?”

Most of the group had moved out of sight to the right, presumably attacking the artillery park. But one group could be seen sweeping up and down in singles, apparently assaulting something on the east side of the valley.

“I do, Sergeant Mueller. Be advised, the target of those weapons is SheVa Fourteen. Given their weaponry and the number of passes, it is likely that they are going to penetrate its containment system.”

“Map the corps forward areas,” he said, glancing at the hologram. “Map probable destruction zone of SheVa catastrophic kill.”

The results were not good; if… when SheVa Fourteen went, it would gut the corps.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Get me Sergeant Major Mosovich… and you’d better make sure General Horner is aware of this.”

* * *

Horner looked at his own hologram and shook his head. He had, indeed, been apprised of the situation in the Gap by a call from Eastern Headquarters, and he had to admit that it looked rather bad. He recalled one of his favorite maxims for a moment like this, coined by one of the few really effective British generals of World War II, to the effect that things are never quite as good or bad as first reports indicate. In that case what had just happened in the Gap was simply a disaster rather than the end of the war.

He also noted that even with an AID, the map was not the reality. And it never hurt to ask an on-scene observer.

“AID, where is Sergeant Major Mosovich in that mess?”

“Sergeant Major Mosovich is about four miles west of the Corps Bachelors Noncommissioned Officers Quarters.”

“Get him for me, please.”

* * *

Mosovich adjusted the strap of his pack as the team reached the top of the ridge. From there it was easy to see the stream of vehicles that indicated a corps in full “bug-out boogie” mode. Not that he could blame them; the detonation of the SheVa was bad enough, but he could see the rear group of landers swarming over the main valley of the Gap; without a functional SheVa gun there was no way to resist those.

“Sergeant Major,” his AID chimed. “General Horner calling.”

“Put him through.” Mosovich sighed. “Afternoon, sir.”

“I notice you don’t say ‘Good afternoon,’ Sergeant.” The AID threw up a hologram of the officer in the distant headquarters and he had his habitual tight, grim smile locked down. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Full tilt bug-out boogie, sir,” Mosovich said. “We’re heading up into the hills to try to swing down and take a look at them as they pour past or, if it goes the way I’m figuring, try to E E out to the west. The AID says they’re pouring through one hundred thousand an hour and that matches my rough guess of the ones I can see. And we saw flying tanks; the AIDs have visuals on them now. I don’t see the corps rallying either, sir. And there’s a Sub-Urb just to the north; I’m afraid that’s going to be on its own, sir. I’ll tell you the truth, sir, I don’t like it at all.”

“Neither do I, Sergeant Major,” Horner replied. “Normally this corps would be backstopped at some point, but this area…” He shrugged. “There’s also the fact that, apparently in support of this move, the Posleen all up and down the eastern seaboard are pushing at all the passes, gaps and roads, everywhere. There’s even a small incursion that has made it into the Shenandoah between Roanoke and Front Royal. I expect other small incursions as things go by. For that matter, I wouldn’t be surprised if we lost more than one Sub-Urb in this campaign; we’ve never been under a full court press before.”

“That’s… not good,” Mosovich said. “Among other things, we’ve got a lot of industry in the Shenandoah, don’t we?”

“No, it’s not good,” Horner agreed. “The area that they are in actually has three SheVas; unfortunately all of them are under construction and none of them are armed; we’re looking at losing them half built, which is four months production down the tubes. Move as you see fit, Sergeant Major. If we need you at a particular point, I’ll call.”

“Can I ask what you intend, sir?” the sergeant major asked diffidently. “In this area, I mean.”