Part 41 (1/2)
And the world in front of the Gallery lit up as a rocket shot from the roof to slam into the rear of the lead tank.
It hung there, burning for a second. Then it must have burned through. The rear of the tank exploded.
Another rocket led a straight line of glare to a second tank. In less than a breath, that one, too, was a flaming pyre.
NELLY, HOW MUCH LONGER?.
WE ALMOST HAVE THEM, KRIS.
ALMOST IS NO HELP TO THOSE POOR DEVILS BURNING OUT THERE.
I KNOW, KRIS. I AM DOING MY BEST.
Kris knew she was. Knew that no one could do any better. It wasn't Nelly that Kris was mad at. There was a certain Grant von Schrader who was running up quite a tab.
A tab Kris intended to collect to its fullest.
”We are clear. Only our nanos are left,” Nelly announced.
Kris moved quickly, silently down the hall.
50.
Captain DeVar had gotten the whispered ”Batter up,” signal from Penny, followed by no more information than he could glean from the reflections of explosions and rocket fire as it lit up the soft afterglow of sunset around the Gallery.
He'd ordered Gunny to keep his own counsel, unsure if they'd have communications or not. The princess had warned about the possibility of jamming.
”Commander Tordon, are you on net?”
”Sounds like I'm about the only one on it.”
”Are you being jammed?”
”Not that I'm aware of, Marine. I suspect if they jam us, they also jam themselves. Just now, they need to talk at least as much as us to find out what's happening.”
”So what is happening?” DeVar asked.
”All h.e.l.l done broke lose, son, and the devil's out to lunch” came through in an easy drawl that almost made the Marine forget how bad things were.
”There's all sorts of confusion on the main government net about what may or may not be going on at the presidential palace. Some say he's dead. Some say he escaped but wounded. There's a whole lot of shouting on net for orders. Any orders. Any of that sound about right from your viewpoint?”
”Most of what's happening seems to be on the other side of the palace from me,” DeVar said. ”I see a lot of reflections of things. Is anyone being jammed?”
”Not that I can tell. But with everybody yammering and shouting, I can't tell if there's a hole in the middle of it. There's plenty of folks willing to fill any hint of silence.”
”How's the rest of town?”
”There's an a.s.sault under way on that warehouse we visited yesterday. But we kind of expected that. Your Lieutenant Martinez is up to his eyeteeth on that one. Don't look for any help from him for a while.”
”I wasn't expecting any. If he can hold, though, these folks out here won't be getting any extra help, either.
”So, what you gonna do? Storm the place?”
”I don't know, Commander. It don't look any too good, but I can't be sure it won't be worse in a few minutes.”
”Ain't that what they call a leaders.h.i.+p challenge?” DeVar could almost hear the grin behind that.
”Seems to me that's what it is,” he said. ”Let me know if anything changes on your end.”
”I will. You're about the only one calling home. Ain't that sad how kids never do?”
And the familiar voice was gone.
Captain DeVar studied the Gallery, or palace, or killing field. Whatever it was.
Talk to me Kris. What's happening?
Grant von Schrader watched as the last tank backed up, a failed ant.i.tank rocket sputtering on its heavily armored snout.
”Well, it will be a long while before they try that again,” he said, smiling at the sergeant at his elbow.
”No question, sir.”
Grant turned back to the huddled wealth before him. Many of them had watched through the Gallery's windows as their salvation turned to failure, death, and flight. He smiled as a wave of dread swept the place. Well, most of the place.
The Marines stared back at him with hard, defiant eyes.
”What shall I do about that missing princess?” As Grant mulled that conundrum, he climbed up to stand among the greats of Eden on Landing Day. And smiled at the image of himself. It was a pleasant thought.
The Marines had formed themselves into a loose battle array halfway down the great hall's south wing with their backs to the west wall. The only good shots at them would be from the east side of the second floor walk. The officers had their backs to the wall. The Marines held the first line.
More and more of the still-armed security guards migrated to stand with them.
During the initial planning, Grant had given thought to disarming everyone immediately. And given it up as taking too much time.
Grant figured the dispirited people would be helpless and little trouble even with guns.
He had not considered that some of the guards might be Marines. Dispirited and helpless didn't seem to be in their vocabulary.
”Commander,” Grant shouted, ”you over there. Where's Kris Longknife?”
The Navy commander shared a few words with the woman in the ridiculous orange taffeta affair. She nodded and then stood a bit straighter.
”I speak for this detachment.” The missing ”sir” hung like a slap in the air.
”And you are?”