When the Devil Dances

“I shall try, Oolt’ondai,” the Kessentai answered. “But I have flown very little.”

“Do the best you can.”

The oolt’ondai left the command deck and laboriously headed for the outer levels. He was not one of those who cursed the Alldn’t designed spiral gravity ramps that were the primary method of movement between areas; someday the Posleen would be able to modify and not just copy Alldn’t equipment. Until then, they had to make do with the way it was.

One of the items that would change, if he had his way, would be the fact that things were scattered through the ship apparently at random. Thus, the personnel quads were found almost anywhere throughout the vessel. In the case of the section holding the last “reaction” oolt, it was in the upper “west” quadrant, a silly place since they then had to go to the lower “north” to unload.

He greeted the Kessentai of the oolt and gave him his instructions. As soon as they landed he was to unload, pass around the oolt’poslenar and attack the gun to destroy its ability to fire, in other words, aim at the barrel.

Having done all that he could to prepare, he ordered the Kessentai to begin the laborious movement to the exit and started back to the command deck. As he did, alarms went off throughout the ship.

* * *

“Sir!” Pruitt said. “I’ve got anti-grav emanations.”

“Sir,” Kitteket interjected. “I just got word from one of the scouts; a C-Dec lifted off and is headed this way!”

“Where?” both Mitchell and Pruitt asked.

“He doesn’t know right now sir,” the specialist answered. “He says it’s staying low and he lost it in the hills. He’s up on Rocky Face and he said he just saw it for a second by Joe Mountain.”

“I don’t have a direction, sir,” Pruitt said. “I’m up on penetrators. And I’m more or less on vector,” he added, glancing at his map.

“Elevate the gun a bit,” Mitchell said. “Captain Chan, are you listening?”

“I’m here,” the MetalStorm commander replied.

“This may turn into a knife-fight,” Mitchell said. “How well are you chained down?”

“Not well enough to fire,” Captain Chan answered. “Even if we had power. Which we don’t. As for secondary effects… we’ll have to see.”

“Do you want to exit your turrets?” Mitchell asked.

“No,” the captain replied after a moment. “Better the devil you know.”

“Sir, emanations are strong,” Pruitt said. “I get the feeling they’re close.”

* * *

“The fire came from near here somewhere, Oolt’ondai,” the pilot said. He gently tapped the controls so the ship wouldn’t slam into the side of the mountain. “Should we unload the oolt?”

Besonora looked at the view from the outside; the side of the mountain was steep and covered in trees. To let them down would require backing up. However, the map showed an open area ahead; they could put them down there just as well.

“No, follow the road around this ridge and drop them here,” he said, showing the Kessentai the map. “In the bend of this creek which is marked ‘Scott.’ ”

CHAPTER 39 Near Balsam Gap, NC, United States, Sol III 1952 EDT Sunday September 27, 2009 ad

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In recking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word —
Thy Mercy on thy People, Lord!

— Rudyard Kipling

“Recessional” (1897)

Despite the danger, Captain Chan had ordered all her tank commanders to stick their heads out of their hatches; when it came down to it mark-one eyeball was probably going to be faster than anything else. And each of them had been given an assigned sector to watch.

As luck would have it, the first person to spot the slow-moving C-Dec was Captain Chan. And when she saw where it was she cursed fluently.

“TARGET, C-DEC, TWO THIRTY, LEVEL, THREE HUNDRED METERS. All TCs! Close hatches!”

* * *

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Pruitt cursed, frantically slewing the gun down and around.

“Fire when you bear,” Major Mitchell said calmly.

“We’re under three hundred meters, sir,” Kitteket said.

“Understood,” the major replied. “That’s the breaks.”

“I understand, sir,” the specialist replied. “But you know that these rounds have a minimum arming distance, right?”

* * *

“Put it down! Put it down!” Besonora shouted.

“I am!” the pilot said. “But there’s no place flat.”

“Fuscirto uut to flat!” the oolt’ondai cursed. “Just get the oolt on the ground!”

“All guns, fire as you bear!”

* * *

Eleven “facets” of the twelve sided C-Decs had weaponry on them. Unlike the Lampreys, which only had one face with an anti-ship weapon, the command dodecahedrons sported a mix of heavy and “light” weapons.

In this case, the facet that was pointed right at Bun-Bun mounted quad plasma guns.

* * *