When the Devil Dances

“There is a reason that fighting humans is so hard,” Orostan mused. “They apparently have been warring amongst themselves, and surviving at it, for their entire history. Their legion of dirty tricks comes from those millennia of experience. We Posleen, on the other hand, have either fought those with no experience of war, or fought the ornaldath. And the ornaldath has always lasted for such a short period of time, and been so chaotic, that little can be learned.”

“With humans, every day is ornaldath,” Cholosta’an muttered bitterly. “They… cheat.”

“Yes,” Orostan admitted in an amused tone. “But it is not ornaldath. They do not use the greatest weapons, much. Tulo’stenaloor’s… ‘intelligence’ people have learned that they have a great reluctance to use those that are not chemical, those that use fusion and antimatter for their propellants. So it is not, by any stretch of the imagination, ornaldath. Except when you corner them. And then, sometimes, they use those weapons. Rarely.”

“They are not cornered now?” Cholosta’an asked. “They are only a bit of one continent. The ones that are to the north have no materials to fight with and other than this remnant it is all tribes scattered in the mountains. Except for this remnant, they are broken. Isn’t that the point of gathering this host?”

“Don’t count the humans out until the last one is dead and you have hacked its body to bits and eaten it,” the oolt’ondai cautioned. “Many of them got off the planet before we landed and those ‘scattered tribes’ are still strong enough to be a challenge in many areas. We have taken the bulk of the planet for our lands, and the bulk of the human population for our feed, but their fleet rebuilds and rebuilds seemingly endlessly. And these humans, these ‘trapped abat’ are no joke. Every day they find new ways to confound us.”

As if on cue the sky began to scream.

* * *

“Splash out,” Mosovich said, listening to the firecracker rattle of ICM landing in the distance. The team had moved down the mountainside, using every bit of concealment, until it was within two hundred yards of Oakey Mountain Road. The biggest worry were the God Kings scattered among the normals. It was hard, in the heavy foliage, to spot the occasional passing saucer, but whenever one came in view the team went to ground and held their breath in anticipation. But, so far, so good.

Now, with the firing behind them, if the Posleen stayed true to their current form they should hurry towards the bridge in anticipation of the team’s movements.

And that did appear to be happening. The normals in view, almost immediately after the artillery began to land, began to stream to the north. With any luck in a few more minutes there would be enough of a reduction the team could consider trying the road.

They were on a ridgeline perpendicular to the road, bedded down in a thick stand of white pine saplings. At the point they would be crossing the road it went through a small saddle and there was a hilltop on the far side. There had been a house or small farm to the right of the saddle in bygone days, but now all there was, was another weed-covered field and the overgrown right-of-way. The open area was small, as well, no more than fifty meters including the torn up grassy track that had been Oakey Mountain Road.

On the far side of the hill that was their objective the ground fell off down a steep slope to the Soque River. Although that would normally be a tough crossing, the area was densely grown and there was small chance the horselike Posleen could keep up with the team in there. They would have to cross Highway 197, but unless the Posleen were patrolling everywhere, any movement over there should be slight. And, again, the ground should be overgrown enough to permit them to slip past any patrols.

From the crossing of the Soque they would swing west of Batesville. If they weren’t spotted on their crossing, corps would maintain harassing fire on the Posleen in regular spots near the Talullah. With luck, it would be some time before the Posleen commander discovered that they had slipped out of the trap. By that time they should be well outside the main search area.

If. With luck.

In a remarkably short time the masses of Posleen that had been in the area were gone. The road was empty and still in the pre-dawn night.

“Time to move out,” Mosovich whispered. Steep slope again. Time to slide.

* * *

“Well, at least it is falling on others,” Cholosta’an observed. The tenar’s sensors were set to replicate the activity on the far side of the mountain.

The town of Seed had often been described as not much more than a stop sign; it really it wasn’t even that. The “main” road was Oakey Mountain, a two lane winding bit of nothingness going from nowhere to nowhere in the hills. And there wasn’t even a stop sign on it, let alone a convenience store. The other road was Gap Road, a macadam track going over the mountains to Lake Seed.