When the Devil Dances

“We’re out of elite oolt,” Cholosta’an pointed out. “And trained pilots. We have no remaining tenaral. Besonora’s oolt’ondar has been wiped out and the humans will soon retake Balsam Gap. The damned engineers have destroyed the other roads out of this valley. And Torason says that he is held from advancing up the Tennessee Valley. We must retreat while we have any oolt left at all.”

“No, we must drive forward,” Orostan snarled. “We will take that pass. And the lands beyond. We have the forces still. Take your oolt forward, gather all the scattered oolt’os that you find. Drive forward for the pass! I will gather all that are left in this area and follow.”

“Your wish, Oolt’ondai,” the Kessentai said. “I go.”

He waved for his oolt’os to attend him and moved forward. As soon as he had crossed the rickety bridge and into shattered Dillsboro he turned right, paralleling the Tuckasegee.

“Let Orostan die in his quest to ‘save the race,’ ” the Kessentai whispered. If there was one thing this world had taught him it was that to survive was enough. Let the brave die “for the good of the race.” Cholosta’an would just survive.

* * *

Tulo’stenaloor shook his head at the report from Dillsboro. He considered, briefly, telling Orostan to withhold his attack. It would take him hours to gather his forces again, what forces he had left. Finally he decided against it. First of all, the old idiot would probably ignore him and attack anyway. Second, slowing the advance of the forces headed for the Gap was a worthwhile goal. When the metal threshkreen finally arrived, he was going to lose the pass to the humans, temporarily. But just give him some time and he could get it back. They would be low on ammunition and power and he could push them out with time.

“All I ask is time.”

* * *

Mike walked out the hole where the back wall of his office used to be and didn’t look back; he was pretty sure he’d never see it again.

The battalion was drawn up in “chalks” before their shuttles. All twenty-two shuttles had landed on the parade field and had been loaded with weapons and equipment, including the critical power packs and antimatter Lances. All that was left to do was load the troops and maybe give a little speech.

The problem with that was that even the “newbies” knew they were going on a suicide mission. It was an important suicide mission, one that couldn’t be more vital. But if any of them survived it would be fairly remarkable.

There was also the fact that even the newbies had been on darned near continuous combat operations for between two and five years. These were troops that had walked into the fire, eyes open, over and over and over again. And most of them had heard his speeches before.

But it was a little tradition.

Mike removed his helmet, but set the AID to amplify his voice and faced the assembled battalion.

“On October 25, 1415, near Calais, France, a small band of Englishmen under the English king Henry the Fifth faced the entire French army. This battle was called ‘Agincourt’ and it occurred upon St. Crispin’s Day.

“Although outnumbered by five to one odds, they inflicted terrific casualties upon the better armed and armored French, thereby winning the day.

“An offhand remark of King Henry was later modified by William Shakespeare into the famous ‘St. Crispin’s Day Speech.’