It was not much of a New Year. The Legion did not celebrate.
Edgeward City tried, but events in the Shadowline had killed any
spirit of optimism. The various parties fell flat.
Storm spent New Year’s Day and the following week alone,
or, when he craved company at all, with Helmut Darksword. Helmut
was taking Wulf s death badly.
Cassius was ripping Twilight into bloody chunks in the
Shadowline. Hawksblood’s leaderless troops were falling
apart. Storm could not refresh his interest in the Legion’s
advances nor in the enemy’s mysterious vulnerability. He
played his clarinet, read his Bible, and sat and stared at his old
.45, twirling the dark steel cylinder as he did so.
Cassius had cut off the Meacham crews at Shadowline’s end.
He was having no trouble repelling relief forces attacking from the
shade of the Twilight shadow generators. His men, despite orders to
the contrary, frequently refused to play the old mercenary games of
fire and maneuver. While Walters remained cool and professional,
they went and slugged it out with the enemy, determined to teach
lessons that would remain forever unforgotten.
Thurston had been making a career of trying to suppress the news
of the nuclear blast. He was, like the Dutch boy, trying to save a
dike with a finger. His luck was worse. The whole Legion knew how
Wulf and his men had died. That was why they were out for
blood.
Storm did not interfere. He believed that the whole thing had
gotten beyond any chance of control. Like a cold, it had to run its
course.
He had won another war. Resoundingly. And, probably, had
stumbled right into a Michael Dee trap.
He thought a lot about his brother, and about the promise he had
given so lightly, so long ago. Michael was on his mind whenever
that old revolver rested in his hand . . . He
often wished that, sometime, he had turned his head while Cassius
or his sons had worked their will.
Keeping his word had cost too much. Far too much. And yet, even
now, he knew he would shield Michael if Dee came begging for
protection.
He returned to City Hall only when the first band of prisoners
came in. He wanted to talk to Lt. Col. Havik.
Havik spotted him first. He rushed over, face drained and worn.
“Colonel Storm. I want to offer my apologies. I know
they’re not worth a fart in a whirlwind, but I’ve got
to say something. That thing is eating us up. I want you to know
that if any of us had known, we would’ve refused our
orders.”
Storm standing cold and silent, watched Havik’s face. He
knew the man was telling the truth, yet it was hard to separate the
action from the enemy . . .
“My men and I have had a lot of time to talk, Colonel. One
of the corporals made a proposal. We’ve all agreed. The whole
battalion wants to offer its services in bringing to justice
whoever is responsible for the atrocity.”
Storm inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. Havik was
professional to the core. Like so many Academy products, he was an
attempt at a carbon of Cassius. “Thank you, Colonel. If
there’s any way you can help, believe me, I’ll yet you
know. And without trying to get you to compromise your commission.
But if I can, I mean to handle this myself. It’s become
personal.”
“Uhm.” Havik nodded his head. Perhaps he had seen
Dees floating around Twilight. Maybe he understood.
“What’s happened to Colonel Hawksblood?” Storm
asked. “I just don’t understand how this could have
happened in his organization.”
Havik frowned, shrugged. “Colonel, nobody has heard from
the Commandant since Colonel Mennike took over. We’ve started
to wonder if he hasn’t met with foul play. He’d been
having a lot of trouble with the Twilighters. And now your men have
found Colonel Mennike.”
Storm sent a questioning glance Thurston’s way.
“They found him the day before yesterday,” his son
told him. “In a one-man shelter near where the Twilight route
enters the Shadowline. He’d been dead better than two weeks.
Stabbed.”
“Colonel Havik,” Storm said, “I still
won’t ask you to compromise your commission, but if
you’d volunteer a little information it might
help.”
“Sir?”
“What sort of communications did you have with your
headquarters in Twilight?”
Havik did not think before replying. “We used microwave
relay in the Shadowline, Colonel. Pulse-beam laser repeaters across
Brightside. The system wasn’t reliable. The laser’s
been down all month. The shadow generators are too far apart. The
power you need to punch a beam through overloads the equipment.
We’ve been using messengers between the down
stations.”
Storm eyed Havik. The Colonel’s statement was a clear-cut
betrayal of his employer. The nuclear must have touched him where
he lived. “Then Commandant Hawksblood could be perfectly
healthy, crossing Brightside somewhere, completely ignorant of
what’s happened?” Storm hoped so. He did not want
Richard taken out of his life by one of Michael’s
stratagems.
“Possibly. We were set up to be as independent of Twilight
as possible. There wouldn’t be much traffic. He’ll eat
heads when he gets back and finds out.”
“Thanks, Colonel. We’ll make you comfortable. I hope
this won’t last much longer.”
“It shouldn’t. You’ve won. Before the blast.
That’s what makes it so senseless. You lost a lot of men, but
it didn’t change anything.”
Storm went to the war room to check the daily reports from Mouse
and Hakes Ceislak. The Fortress was quiet. There was good news from
Helga’s World. Ceislak’s engineers had sapped a tunnel
into Festung Todesangst. His men were occupying the upper
levels.
Where was this Beckhart, this friend of Cassius who had promised
to land Marines as soon as the Legion established a bridgehead? He
seemed to have vanished from the universe. And Storm wanted Ceislak
on Blackworld.
He went on to Blake’s penthouse. “Mr. Blake, I want
to make a direct strike at Twilight.”
“I’ve told you that’s impossible,
Colonel.”
“Hear me out. That blast out there was a
setup. That bomb had to come from their mining inventory. That
means there was collusion by somebody up high in Meacham
Corporation. And it means that Hawksblood has lost control. He
wouldn’t try anything like this. If he makes it back from
Brightside, he’ll end up dead or in a cell. They’re not
playing by the rules anymore. I’m telling you we’ve got
to quit before they eat us up. The scenario I see is this: Richard
will be the scapegoat. He’ll probably get killed trying to
escape after he ‘orders’ somebody to put a bomb in on
Edgeward itself.”
Blake looked baffled. “Colonel, I absolutely refuse to
allow you to endanger civilians.”
“I don’t think you understood me. The
civilians are in danger now.”
Korando cleared his throat. “Mr. Blake, pardon me for
butting in. I think you’d better give the Colonel’s
suggestion more thought. That nuclear was a storm warning. We
can’t ignore it. We’d better be ready for anything.
Logically, the next step would be a move against Edgeward. They
have to get rid of witnesses. And it’s the only way they have
left to get control of the Shadowline. You can’t bet they
won’t do it. They’ve already gone further than any of
us would have believed possible a month ago.”
“Right!” Storm growled. “You people are going to
be up to your ears in Confie snoops when this gets offworld.
Personally, I want to keep you around to answer their questions.
Mr. Blake, believe me, I know the man responsible for this. We
slept in the same room for ten years. If you give him time,
he’ll not only destroy you, he’ll get away with it. You
know that. When you get down to it, it’s not that much of a
jump from Frog to Edgeward.”
“You think it’s Dee?”
“Absolutely. And backing him is a Sangaree Head named
Norbon w’Deeth. And the Norbon seem to be top dog among the
Sangaree Families.”
“Sangaree?” Blake was baffled. “What have they
got to do with this?”
“It’s too complicated to explain. Take my word. This
confrontation was engineered from offworld. It started when Dee
murdered your man Frog. If we don’t scratch and claw,
it’ll end up with the Sangaree in complete control of
Blackworld’s mining industry. And they won’t leave any
witnesses to testify against them.”
Blake slowly shook his head. “I’ll consider what
you’ve said, Colonel.”
“Don’t take too much time. They won’t. By now
they know their attack failed and they’re being overrun. That
bomb was probably meant to go off somewhere else, making the whole
thing work. They’ll do something, just to find out if it blew
at all, then to cover it up. You’ll find me in the war
room.”
Storm went back downstairs, settled into a chair facing the big
board. The confusion of the previous week had begun to disappear.
Unit lights had appeared throughout the territory Cassius had
occupied. There was a big concentration a hundred kilometers west
of the junction with the Twilight supply line. Cassius planned to
sit there and wait for the Meacham people to come in and
surrender.
Had this been a normal merc war it would have been all over but
the prisoner exchange. Richard could do nothing to dislodge
Cassius. His logistics were too precarious and there was no shade
where he could assemble sufficient forces.
But if Michael had Meacham’s ear, war would break out
Darkside as soon as news of the Brightside defeat reached Twilight.
Michael had cast the dice. He had no choice but to escalate his
bets.
Storm issued orders. He wanted a new board set up to represent
the Darkside territory between Edgeward and Twilight, and wanted
all available personnel planting observation devices on likely
approaches to the city.
How would Michael avoid the mutiny that was certain when
Richard’s men found out what had happened in the
Shadowline?
Simple. He, or whichever of his sons it was who had taken
Mennike’s place, would destroy shadow generators while
returning to Twilight, cutting communications with and abandoning
Hawksblood’s forces. It was a harsh move, but
Dee-logical.
He had better warn Cassius to watch out for nuclear booby traps.
The Dees would want to reduce the witness population fast.
“The Whitlandsund!” he growled. People turned to
stare at him. “Of course!”
Edgeward’s pass to Brightside was the key. Michael would
want it bad. By capturing it, Dee could trap almost everyone who
could damn him Brightside. In its tight, twisting confines he could
play Thermopylae. If Edgeward were destroyed and he held the pass
till everyone Brightside perished, who would be left to speak
against him? Only his accomplices.
Storm had no one to send to defend the pass. How long to travel
from Twilight to Edgeward? How long from Helga’s World to
Blackworld? He calculated quickly. Not long enough, and too long.
There was no point to having Ceislak abandon his mission.
“Thurston. Go find Havik. Bring him here. Then get
Blake.” He retreated into his speculations. The nuclear blast
had to be part of a greater Dee plan. It could not have been an end
in itself because it had not altered the field situation in the
Shadowline. Was it a diversion?
Something to grab the attention while Michael snuck up on
Edgeward and the Whitlandsund?
The idea deserved more thought. How had Michael arranged it? On
timing? If so, then the southward movement toward Edgeward would be
under way now . . . The fox. The fool fox, Storm thought. I should have known he
wouldn’t be content to stay in the background while Richard
and I tried to fake each other out with fancy footwork.
Michael might be fated to win his game, but, damn it, there must
be ways to make his winning expensive and painful.
Havik appeared. Storm said, “Colonel, I’ve got one
hell of a problem.” He retraced the path of his recent thoughts.
Havik suggested, “Put scouts out, of course. Fortify the
pass. Hold a reserve to ambush them on their way down. Unless
they’ve brought in someone from outside, there won’t be
many of them. We had almost everybody in the Shadowline. Meacham
handled our logistics.”
“The Legion is in the same position, Colonel,” Storm
said. “All I’ve got here are communications people and
a liaison crew. And I expect Dee to use his own people. He
won’t want men who’ll kick much about breaking the usual rules.”
“I see.” Havik remained thoughtful for more than a
minute. Then, “The only help I could give you would be
passive. I could go out and squat in the pass. If they attacked, I
could consider that a move against my employer. I’d feel
justified in resisting. But . . . What would I
use for weapons? We turned ours over out there.”
Blake had arrived and had been listening during Storm’s
speculations. He still did not want to believe, but had begun to
recognize the potential for disaster. “Colonel Storm, do you
really think Dee is such a demon?”
Storm snapped, “I grew up with him, remember? I think I
know what he’s capable of, and that’s just about
anything.” He turned to Havik. “I don’t know what
we can do about arms. There’re some personal weapons, but the
only heavy stuff we have is what came back for maintenance
work.”
“We have our own weapons cache,” Blake said.
“It’s obsolete stuff, though. It was used by the
Devil’s Guard during the war.”
Storm made a face. He prided himself on keeping his men equipped
better than Confederation’s armed forces. “Any of it
functional?”
“We’ve kept it up. We have a few men who play-act at
being a militia.”
“Colonel Havik?”
“I’ll look it over.” He did not sound excited.
“But I want you to know, this is something I’ll have to
take to my men. I can’t just order them to help the Iron
Legion.”
“I realize that, Colonel. Just ask them to
hold the Whitlandsund till we can send someone to relieve them.
They’re your people caught out there, too. If you have
doubters, send them to me. If I can’t convince them, then I
don’t want them involved. It shouldn’t be for more than
a few days anyway. Mr. Blake. Do you have any people capable of
managing the war room?”
“What’re you planning
now?”
“I’m going to do my job. I’m going to defend
Edgeward City. I’m going to take my people out and ambush
Michael Dee. I’ll need somebody to keep track of things
here.”
“I have my communications people. You’d have to have
somebody familiarize them with the equipment.”
“I’ll leave Helmut Darksword.” Helmut was not yet
ready for combat. “Thurston, how are your preparations
coming?” His son had begun them immediately after contacting
Blake and Havik.
“Half an hour, Father. They’re loading the crawlers
now.”
Blake sighed, smiled a thin, worried smile. “I almost hope
you’ve guessed right, Colonel.”
Korando offered one of his rare observations. “Better a
live fool than a dead skeptic, sir.”
Storm smiled. He wished he had time to get to know Korando. The
man interested him. “I’ll keep in touch, Mr. Blake.
I’m going to try to find Colonel Darksword.”
It was a ragtag force he took out to meet the Dees. He had some
three hundred men armed primarily with equipment that had been
sent in for repairs. Their small arms were their only reliable
weapons.
Still, if Michael did appear, the ambush should buy Havik a few
more hours to get dug in in the Whitlandsund. Havik, in his turn,
would stall Dee till the units Storm had recalled from the
Shadowline arrived.
It was not much of a New Year. The Legion did not celebrate.
Edgeward City tried, but events in the Shadowline had killed any
spirit of optimism. The various parties fell flat.
Storm spent New Year’s Day and the following week alone,
or, when he craved company at all, with Helmut Darksword. Helmut
was taking Wulf s death badly.
Cassius was ripping Twilight into bloody chunks in the
Shadowline. Hawksblood’s leaderless troops were falling
apart. Storm could not refresh his interest in the Legion’s
advances nor in the enemy’s mysterious vulnerability. He
played his clarinet, read his Bible, and sat and stared at his old
.45, twirling the dark steel cylinder as he did so.
Cassius had cut off the Meacham crews at Shadowline’s end.
He was having no trouble repelling relief forces attacking from the
shade of the Twilight shadow generators. His men, despite orders to
the contrary, frequently refused to play the old mercenary games of
fire and maneuver. While Walters remained cool and professional,
they went and slugged it out with the enemy, determined to teach
lessons that would remain forever unforgotten.
Thurston had been making a career of trying to suppress the news
of the nuclear blast. He was, like the Dutch boy, trying to save a
dike with a finger. His luck was worse. The whole Legion knew how
Wulf and his men had died. That was why they were out for
blood.
Storm did not interfere. He believed that the whole thing had
gotten beyond any chance of control. Like a cold, it had to run its
course.
He had won another war. Resoundingly. And, probably, had
stumbled right into a Michael Dee trap.
He thought a lot about his brother, and about the promise he had
given so lightly, so long ago. Michael was on his mind whenever
that old revolver rested in his hand . . . He
often wished that, sometime, he had turned his head while Cassius
or his sons had worked their will.
Keeping his word had cost too much. Far too much. And yet, even
now, he knew he would shield Michael if Dee came begging for
protection.
He returned to City Hall only when the first band of prisoners
came in. He wanted to talk to Lt. Col. Havik.
Havik spotted him first. He rushed over, face drained and worn.
“Colonel Storm. I want to offer my apologies. I know
they’re not worth a fart in a whirlwind, but I’ve got
to say something. That thing is eating us up. I want you to know
that if any of us had known, we would’ve refused our
orders.”
Storm standing cold and silent, watched Havik’s face. He
knew the man was telling the truth, yet it was hard to separate the
action from the enemy . . .
“My men and I have had a lot of time to talk, Colonel. One
of the corporals made a proposal. We’ve all agreed. The whole
battalion wants to offer its services in bringing to justice
whoever is responsible for the atrocity.”
Storm inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. Havik was
professional to the core. Like so many Academy products, he was an
attempt at a carbon of Cassius. “Thank you, Colonel. If
there’s any way you can help, believe me, I’ll yet you
know. And without trying to get you to compromise your commission.
But if I can, I mean to handle this myself. It’s become
personal.”
“Uhm.” Havik nodded his head. Perhaps he had seen
Dees floating around Twilight. Maybe he understood.
“What’s happened to Colonel Hawksblood?” Storm
asked. “I just don’t understand how this could have
happened in his organization.”
Havik frowned, shrugged. “Colonel, nobody has heard from
the Commandant since Colonel Mennike took over. We’ve started
to wonder if he hasn’t met with foul play. He’d been
having a lot of trouble with the Twilighters. And now your men have
found Colonel Mennike.”
Storm sent a questioning glance Thurston’s way.
“They found him the day before yesterday,” his son
told him. “In a one-man shelter near where the Twilight route
enters the Shadowline. He’d been dead better than two weeks.
Stabbed.”
“Colonel Havik,” Storm said, “I still
won’t ask you to compromise your commission, but if
you’d volunteer a little information it might
help.”
“Sir?”
“What sort of communications did you have with your
headquarters in Twilight?”
Havik did not think before replying. “We used microwave
relay in the Shadowline, Colonel. Pulse-beam laser repeaters across
Brightside. The system wasn’t reliable. The laser’s
been down all month. The shadow generators are too far apart. The
power you need to punch a beam through overloads the equipment.
We’ve been using messengers between the down
stations.”
Storm eyed Havik. The Colonel’s statement was a clear-cut
betrayal of his employer. The nuclear must have touched him where
he lived. “Then Commandant Hawksblood could be perfectly
healthy, crossing Brightside somewhere, completely ignorant of
what’s happened?” Storm hoped so. He did not want
Richard taken out of his life by one of Michael’s
stratagems.
“Possibly. We were set up to be as independent of Twilight
as possible. There wouldn’t be much traffic. He’ll eat
heads when he gets back and finds out.”
“Thanks, Colonel. We’ll make you comfortable. I hope
this won’t last much longer.”
“It shouldn’t. You’ve won. Before the blast.
That’s what makes it so senseless. You lost a lot of men, but
it didn’t change anything.”
Storm went to the war room to check the daily reports from Mouse
and Hakes Ceislak. The Fortress was quiet. There was good news from
Helga’s World. Ceislak’s engineers had sapped a tunnel
into Festung Todesangst. His men were occupying the upper
levels.
Where was this Beckhart, this friend of Cassius who had promised
to land Marines as soon as the Legion established a bridgehead? He
seemed to have vanished from the universe. And Storm wanted Ceislak
on Blackworld.
He went on to Blake’s penthouse. “Mr. Blake, I want
to make a direct strike at Twilight.”
“I’ve told you that’s impossible,
Colonel.”
“Hear me out. That blast out there was a
setup. That bomb had to come from their mining inventory. That
means there was collusion by somebody up high in Meacham
Corporation. And it means that Hawksblood has lost control. He
wouldn’t try anything like this. If he makes it back from
Brightside, he’ll end up dead or in a cell. They’re not
playing by the rules anymore. I’m telling you we’ve got
to quit before they eat us up. The scenario I see is this: Richard
will be the scapegoat. He’ll probably get killed trying to
escape after he ‘orders’ somebody to put a bomb in on
Edgeward itself.”
Blake looked baffled. “Colonel, I absolutely refuse to
allow you to endanger civilians.”
“I don’t think you understood me. The
civilians are in danger now.”
Korando cleared his throat. “Mr. Blake, pardon me for
butting in. I think you’d better give the Colonel’s
suggestion more thought. That nuclear was a storm warning. We
can’t ignore it. We’d better be ready for anything.
Logically, the next step would be a move against Edgeward. They
have to get rid of witnesses. And it’s the only way they have
left to get control of the Shadowline. You can’t bet they
won’t do it. They’ve already gone further than any of
us would have believed possible a month ago.”
“Right!” Storm growled. “You people are going to
be up to your ears in Confie snoops when this gets offworld.
Personally, I want to keep you around to answer their questions.
Mr. Blake, believe me, I know the man responsible for this. We
slept in the same room for ten years. If you give him time,
he’ll not only destroy you, he’ll get away with it. You
know that. When you get down to it, it’s not that much of a
jump from Frog to Edgeward.”
“You think it’s Dee?”
“Absolutely. And backing him is a Sangaree Head named
Norbon w’Deeth. And the Norbon seem to be top dog among the
Sangaree Families.”
“Sangaree?” Blake was baffled. “What have they
got to do with this?”
“It’s too complicated to explain. Take my word. This
confrontation was engineered from offworld. It started when Dee
murdered your man Frog. If we don’t scratch and claw,
it’ll end up with the Sangaree in complete control of
Blackworld’s mining industry. And they won’t leave any
witnesses to testify against them.”
Blake slowly shook his head. “I’ll consider what
you’ve said, Colonel.”
“Don’t take too much time. They won’t. By now
they know their attack failed and they’re being overrun. That
bomb was probably meant to go off somewhere else, making the whole
thing work. They’ll do something, just to find out if it blew
at all, then to cover it up. You’ll find me in the war
room.”
Storm went back downstairs, settled into a chair facing the big
board. The confusion of the previous week had begun to disappear.
Unit lights had appeared throughout the territory Cassius had
occupied. There was a big concentration a hundred kilometers west
of the junction with the Twilight supply line. Cassius planned to
sit there and wait for the Meacham people to come in and
surrender.
Had this been a normal merc war it would have been all over but
the prisoner exchange. Richard could do nothing to dislodge
Cassius. His logistics were too precarious and there was no shade
where he could assemble sufficient forces.
But if Michael had Meacham’s ear, war would break out
Darkside as soon as news of the Brightside defeat reached Twilight.
Michael had cast the dice. He had no choice but to escalate his
bets.
Storm issued orders. He wanted a new board set up to represent
the Darkside territory between Edgeward and Twilight, and wanted
all available personnel planting observation devices on likely
approaches to the city.
How would Michael avoid the mutiny that was certain when
Richard’s men found out what had happened in the
Shadowline?
Simple. He, or whichever of his sons it was who had taken
Mennike’s place, would destroy shadow generators while
returning to Twilight, cutting communications with and abandoning
Hawksblood’s forces. It was a harsh move, but
Dee-logical.
He had better warn Cassius to watch out for nuclear booby traps.
The Dees would want to reduce the witness population fast.
“The Whitlandsund!” he growled. People turned to
stare at him. “Of course!”
Edgeward’s pass to Brightside was the key. Michael would
want it bad. By capturing it, Dee could trap almost everyone who
could damn him Brightside. In its tight, twisting confines he could
play Thermopylae. If Edgeward were destroyed and he held the pass
till everyone Brightside perished, who would be left to speak
against him? Only his accomplices.
Storm had no one to send to defend the pass. How long to travel
from Twilight to Edgeward? How long from Helga’s World to
Blackworld? He calculated quickly. Not long enough, and too long.
There was no point to having Ceislak abandon his mission.
“Thurston. Go find Havik. Bring him here. Then get
Blake.” He retreated into his speculations. The nuclear blast
had to be part of a greater Dee plan. It could not have been an end
in itself because it had not altered the field situation in the
Shadowline. Was it a diversion?
Something to grab the attention while Michael snuck up on
Edgeward and the Whitlandsund?
The idea deserved more thought. How had Michael arranged it? On
timing? If so, then the southward movement toward Edgeward would be
under way now . . . The fox. The fool fox, Storm thought. I should have known he
wouldn’t be content to stay in the background while Richard
and I tried to fake each other out with fancy footwork.
Michael might be fated to win his game, but, damn it, there must
be ways to make his winning expensive and painful.
Havik appeared. Storm said, “Colonel, I’ve got one
hell of a problem.” He retraced the path of his recent thoughts.
Havik suggested, “Put scouts out, of course. Fortify the
pass. Hold a reserve to ambush them on their way down. Unless
they’ve brought in someone from outside, there won’t be
many of them. We had almost everybody in the Shadowline. Meacham
handled our logistics.”
“The Legion is in the same position, Colonel,” Storm
said. “All I’ve got here are communications people and
a liaison crew. And I expect Dee to use his own people. He
won’t want men who’ll kick much about breaking the usual rules.”
“I see.” Havik remained thoughtful for more than a
minute. Then, “The only help I could give you would be
passive. I could go out and squat in the pass. If they attacked, I
could consider that a move against my employer. I’d feel
justified in resisting. But . . . What would I
use for weapons? We turned ours over out there.”
Blake had arrived and had been listening during Storm’s
speculations. He still did not want to believe, but had begun to
recognize the potential for disaster. “Colonel Storm, do you
really think Dee is such a demon?”
Storm snapped, “I grew up with him, remember? I think I
know what he’s capable of, and that’s just about
anything.” He turned to Havik. “I don’t know what
we can do about arms. There’re some personal weapons, but the
only heavy stuff we have is what came back for maintenance
work.”
“We have our own weapons cache,” Blake said.
“It’s obsolete stuff, though. It was used by the
Devil’s Guard during the war.”
Storm made a face. He prided himself on keeping his men equipped
better than Confederation’s armed forces. “Any of it
functional?”
“We’ve kept it up. We have a few men who play-act at
being a militia.”
“Colonel Havik?”
“I’ll look it over.” He did not sound excited.
“But I want you to know, this is something I’ll have to
take to my men. I can’t just order them to help the Iron
Legion.”
“I realize that, Colonel. Just ask them to
hold the Whitlandsund till we can send someone to relieve them.
They’re your people caught out there, too. If you have
doubters, send them to me. If I can’t convince them, then I
don’t want them involved. It shouldn’t be for more than
a few days anyway. Mr. Blake. Do you have any people capable of
managing the war room?”
“What’re you planning
now?”
“I’m going to do my job. I’m going to defend
Edgeward City. I’m going to take my people out and ambush
Michael Dee. I’ll need somebody to keep track of things
here.”
“I have my communications people. You’d have to have
somebody familiarize them with the equipment.”
“I’ll leave Helmut Darksword.” Helmut was not yet
ready for combat. “Thurston, how are your preparations
coming?” His son had begun them immediately after contacting
Blake and Havik.
“Half an hour, Father. They’re loading the crawlers
now.”
Blake sighed, smiled a thin, worried smile. “I almost hope
you’ve guessed right, Colonel.”
Korando offered one of his rare observations. “Better a
live fool than a dead skeptic, sir.”
Storm smiled. He wished he had time to get to know Korando. The
man interested him. “I’ll keep in touch, Mr. Blake.
I’m going to try to find Colonel Darksword.”
It was a ragtag force he took out to meet the Dees. He had some
three hundred men armed primarily with equipment that had been
sent in for repairs. Their small arms were their only reliable
weapons.
Still, if Michael did appear, the ambush should buy Havik a few
more hours to get dug in in the Whitlandsund. Havik, in his turn,
would stall Dee till the units Storm had recalled from the
Shadowline arrived.