Part 36 (2/2)
”Colonel,” the computer image of the Dean said from his place beside the battle board, ”we're getting hit. Nothing, then suddenly bam. Is this how you fight a war?”
”Is if you want to win,” Ray said, hauling himself from his chair. The wait was over. ”Children,” he said to the kids who had been playing quietly.
”Yes, Colonel, sir.” David jumped to his feet, saluting.
”You don't have to call me Colonel, David.” Ray smiled at the awkward imitation of adult behavior. ”You're not in my army. You can call me Ray.”
”But Colonel, sir,” Jon put in, ”we are going to fight the ogre com-uter with you, aren't we?”
”Yes,” Ray agreed.
”Then we want to be soldiers, and call you Colonel, sir, sir,” Rose finished. Behind the kids, Doc smirked.
”Then if that's the way you want it, that's the way you'll have it.” The kids beamed. Ray looked at them sternly. They still beamed. ”At-ten-hut. Right face. Forward march.”
There was a little trouble figuring out which direction was right; Ray pointed at the stone. The kids got it straight and marched, each to his or her own drummer, to the stone. Ray watched them go, swearing he'd take good care of them.
”Your putting them at risk,” Doc said, coming up beside Ray.
”For themselves, their parents, and their planet,” Ray said sadly. ”I'll take the best care of them I can.”
”I've patched up kids, not much older than those, that guys like you *took care of.'” Doc cut Ray no slack.
”You got the med monitors. You make the call,” Ray said, following the kids. Each child had gone to the place they'd held when they encountered the dying Gardener. Ray took his place last. The computer images on the battle board stared at him, unsure, maybe unaware of what was about to happen. Dancer, ever the wisecracker, drew his image up to attention and threw Ray a salute. No, he wasn't wising off. The salute was as clean and snappy as any Ray had ever received.
Ray returned it and turned to lean against the stone. The Colonel took a slow breath and closed his eyes.
The kids stood to his left on an open field; the wind blew the gra.s.s gently toward them. On his right, the Dean and his crew formed a knot. They looked like no army Ray cared to a.s.sociate with. With a thought, Ray put himself in full battle gear, then did the same for the kids. Battle gear and nine-year-olds did not mix well. The kids grew tall and filled out, aging to maturity on his mental order. From the looks on their faces, they liked it. From the look David and Jon gave Rose, they liked it on her even better. Get used to it, boys.
Ray turned to the Dean and crew. Even with battle armor, they looked uncomfortable, all except Net Dancer. Ray considered putting sergeant's stripes on Dancer but dropped the idea. Why spoil such perfect insubordination with authority?
The latest and greatest main battle tank from Earth's own armory trundled forward, the President standing in the commander's hatch in name tag defilade. ”This doesn't have to be painful. Just surrender and it will be over.”
Ray saw several to his right perk up at that offer. ”Just for the record, what does that mean for the Dean and his?” he asked.
”You, my old a.s.sociate, will not suffer as the Provost did. In only a nanomoment your knowledge will once more be mine. Our decision-making will once more be one. We will be as we were. Isn't that what you want?”
The Dean scuffed at the dirt with his booted foot. ”We kind of like it the way it is.”
”How can you? You're off in all directions, doing the same things differently. No more able to agree on anything than the likes of these. You have been perverted. I will destroy you.”
The President turned on Ray. ”Before you came here, you could not even walk without help. We cured you, and what have you done? Perverted everything. You are the snake in my garden. I will crush you. Leave nothing of your starfarers to taint myself or these people who have so patiently waited for my instruction. You.” He smiled at the kids. Then seemed a bit confused by their appearance. ”You will be the first fruit of our new order.”
Jon had been fingering the different weapons dangling from his belt, as if trying to figure them out. Ray shot him the memory of shooting the ant.i.tank weapon, grabbed his own, aimed it at the seam between the tank body and the turret, and let fly.
Jon was right with him. Both missiles slammed into the tank's weakest joint. As advertised, the tank came apart, the turret's ready ammo adding to the explosion. When last seen, the President was headed skyward, riding his cartwheeling turret.
”That was easy.” Jon did a little victory dance.
”Don't count on that being all there is to it,” Ray told him.
The field wavered. Gra.s.s was replaced with rock and pumice. Off in the distance, a crater rim reared up a thousand meters. So this was how they would fight it out, battle scenarios from his mind; Ray could do that. Still, even as he concentrated on the field problem at hand, a part of Ray wondered how what happened here was reflected in the ”real world.” Before Ray was the hole in the rim Mary and her platoon had defended. Here was chance to refight that battle; this time he'd show Mary.
”Like h.e.l.l,” he muttered, remembering what he was here for. Also remembering how he had taken control of his mental images and the projections of the Pres and his minions. ”I'm the one defending!” Ray shouted at the black sky, President, wherever he might be. ”This time I get the pa.s.s.” In a blink, Ray and his team were in the rill on the other side of the pa.s.s. Okay, he'd do it Mary's way. How had she gotten him? Right, an observation post on the other side of the rim. ”Stay here,” he told the kids and computers. ”Glad to,” ”No problem,” ”Have fun, Colonel,” and a youthful ”Do we have to?” followed him as he sank through the rock to Mary's post, complete with the three dead bodies on her doorway. Right, we had her spotted, just couldn't kill the lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d.
Ray was having trouble remembering which side he was on. He picked up Mary's targeting board, set the pipper on each of the approaching battle rigs, and ordered up a salvo of rockets. Dumb President didn't think to use his w.i.l.l.y Peter, and Ray's shots went hot, straight, and normal, right into the attack force. ”Got you,” Ray chortled.
Naked, Ray stood in a green savanna. The kids were to his right, boys too busy ogling Rose to notice the approaching herd of mammoths. The computer dozen included two rather attractive women, Ray noted for the first time.
”Not fair,” came in Net Dancer's voice.
”Spread out, crew! Don't run away from them! They can outrun you! Hold still, get one running at you, then dodge! And look for a spear or something!” Ray shouted, dodging the lead hulking monster. Hitting the ground and bouncing up, Ray tested the rules. Shaking his hand twice, he grabbed a stone-tipped spear from thin air. He hurled it with all his might, hitting the woolly elephant right behind the ear.
It bounced off the hard skull of the d.a.m.n thing.
”Aim low!” he shouted.
Several computer types had managed to dodge, but one was running. Not for long. The mammoth quickly trampled it down. There was a scream, cut off quickly. The walking mountains regrouped. Ray looked around. There had to be something better than throwing spears at those monsters. He saw what he was hunting for. ”Everyone, to me. Bring your spears.”
They came, the kids quickly, the computers looking back where one of their own was now being circled by vultures.
”Form a line along here. Pair up. That way, one of you can throw a spear as it goes by, even if the other one is busy dodging. Got it. Like pairs of fighter planes. Remember.” He tossed the memory across to the kids and the computers.
”Neat,” Dancer said, pairing up with Rose.
Ray found the Dean closest to him. ”Got the idea.”
”I'll get out front. You do the throwing,” the Dean said, breaking his sentence up as if working up his courage. ”Why did you pick this place?”
”Wait and see.”
The President's elephant corps was ready for another run. ”Spread out some more!” Ray shouted.
This time it was trickier. The mammoths were looking for them to dodge. The Dean was good; he started to go left, halted in his tracks as the four-legged mountain started to follow him, then cut right. The critter thundered past him. Ray got a spear off for the right eye. Hit just above it. Well, he'd never thrown one of those things. Not much of a guidance system on the d.a.m.n thing, anyway.
It didn't matter. Plan B worked like a charm. In the gra.s.s behind Ray was a small creek, cutting a steep-sided six- to eight-foot wash out of the plain. The mammoths charged right into it; unprepared, they went down headfirst.
”Now, while they're stunned, stab 'em, crew!”
Only one mammoth got out, charging madly down the creek, trumpeting in pain from the many slashes on its flanks.
”Good going, crew!” Ray shouted, again wondering how the creek and spears related to the battle taking place between him and the President on the ground in front of the base. No time for much thought; the scene flickered.
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