Part 21 (1/2)
21:04:16 GMT TUESDAY 21 JUNE 2050.
Attila rode his Swift at the head of his army. Group after group, each led by a greaturion who commanded a great of mounted warriors, stretched out down the long paved road toward the west.
Beside Attila rode the Taker.
”A nice road the strangers have made for us,” the Taker said. ”The quicker to hasten their deaths.”
”It looks freshly paved,” said Attila. ”I don't understand that, or the warm spots either.”
”Warm spots?” asked the Taker.
”Shove those black eye-b.a.l.l.s under your floppy eye-flaps and use the pink eyes Bright gave you,” Attila snapped.
The Taker lowered all her normal eyes and looked with her pink ones at the road. She could see ragged spots of ultra-red along the road, as if something warm were underneath.
”What are they?” the Taker asked.
”I don't know. And I don't like things I don't understand.”
They reached the outskirts of the stranger's compound. The lead warriors halted. It would take nearly a turn for the rest of the long column to gather.
Attila had been looking forward to this battle. It was the first time in many generations that he had felt the tingle of danger rippling over his hide.
”Bring up those Flow Slows!” he commanded. ”And the first dozen greaturions report to me.” The twelve group leaders rode up on their Swifts and gathered around him.
”I will ride the first Flow Slow over the barriers at the main entrance,” said Attila. ”The first four groups are to follow me in.” He turned to the greaturion of the Fourth Group. 'Torn-Tread!”
”Yef, O Terrible One.” Torn-Tread's tread was lisping because of the ma.s.sive scar from the bite of a Swift.
”You will ride the second Flow Slow over the barriers to the right, and Groups Five through Eight will follow you. Eleven-Eyes will take his Flow Slow to the left.
”Bring up my Flow Slow!” he ordered, sliding down off his Swift. The Swift stayed with its mate, which was being ridden by the Taker.
”It is almost turnfeast,” reminded the Taker.
”We will not stop for turnfeast,” said Attila. ”My warriors will eat the meat of the strangers for their turnfeast.”
Attila scampered up the trailing edge of the Flow Slow and took over control of the great animal. The greaturions whirled their mounts around and raced back to gather their groups. The warriors saw Attila on the Flow Slow, heard the shouts of their greaturions, and immediately dashed forward, their war-cries mingled with the roars of their Swifts.
”They're attacking!” yelled Crust-Crawler. ”He's not even going to talk to us first!”
”It has been a long time since the Terrible One has had an excuse to fight,” said Dented-s.h.i.+eld. ”He was afraid you would surrender.”
”We'll give him a fight,” Crust-Crawler promised. ”Fire the antimatter mines!”
Engineer Power-Pack closed a switch and in a rippling roar, the road to the west exploded under the treads of the Speckled Horde. Swifts and their warrior mounts were torn apart by the explosions and tossed to the sides of the road. Those that had been along the edges of the road or between the mine emplacements immediately left the road, only to be met by two more rippling roars as two more strings of mines on either side of the road went up.
Attila felt a dull thump through the body of his Flow Slow as the antimatter mine went off. The Flow Slow gave a deep rumble of pain, but continued on under the p.r.i.c.kling from the creature above it. Attila could sense the animal was hurt. But, except for a cracked plate underneath its armor cover, it was still functional.
He looked out from his vantage point on top of the Flow Slow and surveyed the damage that had been done to his army. Unlike the Flow Slow, the army had been badly hurt by the sneak attack. The warriors had not panicked under the attack and were still moving forward toward the enemy, but they were not in their usual group formations. They all had at least one eye fixed on their Emperor.
Attila pulled out his limber-swords and flashed them in a complex pattern about his body. The warriors halted their disorganized rush and looked about for a greaturion. The greaturions, limber-swords signaling, gathered the warriors that were around them, then signaled their leader. There were only six groups now-half the warriors had been killed by the antimatter mines. Limber-swords flas.h.i.+ng, Attila lined up the groups behind the three Flow Slows and the attack continued.
”Let's get this beast moving!” Attila called, as he jabbed the point of the p.r.i.c.ker between the cracks in the Flow Slow's ar- mor. He marched backward as the Flow Slow ponderously moved forward. He looked upward at the large sphere hanging in the sky above him. He refused to be awed by it. The sphere would fall once the fort fell and the power was turned off.
High above the battlefield Star-Counter watched the developing action and reported down to her friends below.
”First two groups now within range of the fountain-tubes,” she said. ”Coordinates one-three and one-six.”
”One-three fired,” said Metal-Bender, throwing small switches on his console. ”One-six fired.” Racks of long, nearly vertical tubes fired in salvos and dozens and dozens of tiny heavy b.a.l.l.s shot up into the sky to fall like tiny avenging meteorites on the Speckled Horde. The crust vibrated with the cries of punctured warriors and Swifts, but the attack moved on.
”Coordinates one-two. Coordinates one-seven. Coordinates two-three,” Star-Counter reported from above.
Down below, Attila took out his limber-swords and flashed another signal. The greaturions now switched their advance to a zig-zag pattern. Many of the deadly falling b.a.l.l.s missed their targets. Attila heard a grunt as the warrior next to him took a ball through the brain-knot. His dead body, carried over the front of the Flow Slow by the moving plates, was crushed into the crust beneath.
'Three-three. Four-seven. Four-two. Five-seven. Six-seven. Seven-seven,” said Star-Counter.
”My tubes are empty,” Metal-Bender said.
”Attila's Flow Slow has almost reached the barrier and the other two are not far behind,” Crust-Crawler told them. ”We have got to stop those Flow Slows! Activate the robots.”
The tubes that acted like fountain plants had finally stopped shooting pellets. They were approaching the barrier. Attila slowed his Flow Slow, wary of new surprises. Lying in front of the nearly invisible magnetic barriers were complex chunks of metal. Suddenly, they seemed to come alive. Each one had a number of large manipulators that pinched, cut, or burned. The robots had been programmed to go after the Flow Slows, especially the riders on top. Some were crushed under the ma.s.sive armored plates, while others scurried around to the trailing edge and started to ride up on top. They were impervious to sword blades; and once a Swift had encountered one of the cutting, burning, pinching robots, they refused to go near them again.
”Use your quirrls!” Attila shouted to the mounted warriors around them.
The warriors loaded their specially adapted pouches with short heavy quirrls and used their internal muscles to throw the quirrls in a short arc from their perches high up on their Swifts. The quirrls punctured the metallic hides of the robots, leaving a glowing wound. Some stopped working; some were pinned to the crust; but the others kept on.
”Two are climbing the Flow Slow!” said one of the warriors next to him.
”Throw quirrls!” Attila was thumping the Row-Slow hard to make it reverse itself. The robots now had to climb against a down-flow of moving plates, and they slowed their advance. First one, then the other was picked off by quirrls. The Flow Slow groaned again. One of the quirrls had found a c.h.i.n.k in its armor. The Flow Slow was now surrounded by a swirling ma.s.s of Swift-riding warriors that had silenced the rest of the robots as they tried to attack.
'The robots got two of the Flow Slows,” Star-Counter said.
”We can hear that through the crust,” said Crust-Crawler over the bellows from the Flow Slows. ”It can't be pleasant having a construction robot cutting and burning its way down to your brain-knot.”
With a wailing cry, the bellows stopped. The remaining Flow Slow echoed the cry of its dying mate, then returned to its usual complaining groans as the mite on its topside p.r.i.c.ked it into motion once again.
”They didn't get the important one,” said Crust-Crawler. ”Attila is going to breach the magnetic barrier.”
”Follow me,” Attila shouted. Limber-swords whirling a victory flourish, he urged the armored Flow Slow up onto the magnetic barrier. The crust groaned as the generators attempted to maintain the field, then the barrier fell. With shouts of triumph, the vanguard of the Speckled Horde poured through the opening.
They fell back as they were met by a barrage of positron beams that ate holes in their hides. The positron beamers had limited range in the tenuous atmosphere, but the range of the beamers was longer than the range of the quirrls. The quirrls, however, could be thrown in any direction, while the positron beams spiraled along the east-west magnetic field lines. The s.p.a.cers with their beamers and the warriors with their quirrls sparred with each other at long distance like knights fighting bishops in a weird end game.
”Herders! Spread your stickers!” Letter-Reader shouted to his clan. He then ran out between the knots of fighters and threw tiny tread stickers in the path of the Swifts. His actions were followed by others.
The moving Swifts ran into the stickers and roared as they came to a halt. Their riders cursed and slashed at them to get them moving again, but many were caught by the stinging positron beams.
Slowly, relentlessly, the defenders were driven back. Attila again raised his limber-swords and signaled a command. The warriors about him cursed with anger, then fought all the harder.