Legion Of The Damned - 06 - For Those Who Fell (41 page)

The officer was exhausted by the time the meeting came to a close and everyone spilled out into the cool night air. Having retrieved his weapons, Santana turned to find that the youngster was still there, waiting to guide him back, and shivering in the cold.

The legionnaire dropped his jacket over the youth's shoulders and followed him through the labyrinth of shelters. A Ramanthian-manufactured flare went off to the north, floated slowly to the ground, and was swallowed by the darkness.

 

It was still dark when the war drums started to beat, and the vast encampment began to stir. Fires were rekindled, meals were cooked, and warriors
looked to their weapons. Rather than the chatter and laughter typical of most mornings the Paguum were somber, as if already mourning those who would soon be dead, but still walked among them.

The legionnaires used heat tabs to boil some of their strictly rationed water, made coffee, and ate two chewy ration bars apiece. Santana didn't feel like eating but forced himself to do so both as an example to the others and to provide his body with the fuel it would need.

Once the last mouthful of dry food had been washed down the officer set off to visit all of the ten warrior units that comprised the dragoons. Different though their physiologies were, it was apparent that the Paguumi warriors suffered from the same precombat jitters that humans did, and
welcomed a word of encouragement, an attempt at a joke, or a small piece of advice.

Once the unofficial inspection was over Santana gathered what amounted to his personal staff together and ordered the bugler to play assembly. By that time messengers were dashing back and forth between the various cavalry outfits, and thousands of mounted warriors were streaming out of the defensive laager and onto the surrounding plain. Then, following the order of battle that each unit leader had memorized the night before, they formed up into the broad U-shaped configuration called the horns.

Per Santana's suggestion the dragoons took their place at the bottom of the U, which meant that as the southerners moved forward, Omoni's cavalry would screen both flanks, allowing the double-mounted infantry to proceed up the middle.

Then, assuming that the flankers held, and Kuzo managed to keep the initiative, the U-shaped formation would evolve into a W as the dragoons drove in toward the very center of the northern line. At that point any number of things could occur. Assuming that Srebo Riff led from the center, the position favored by Paguumi leaders over the years, the dragoons might be able to kill or capture the chieftain and his staff. And if things went especially well, they might even cut the northern army in two, thereby opening both halves to an attack by Omoni's reserves. Or, and this was w
hat Santana feared most, the combination of off-world weapons and leadership by the likes of Kuga-Ka might shatter the horns before they could rip into the enemy formation. But there was nothing that he and his troops could do except wait for the huge formation to coalesce, go straight up the middle, and hope for the best.

In the meantime the officer could see a smudge that he knew to be the enemy, but they were so far away that it was
impossible to make out any details, even with the electrobinoculars to help him.

An uncomfortably long period of time passed before Kuzo gave the necessary order, a horn sounded, and the drums began their deliberate beat. Santana waited for the cavalry to begin their charges. Something they did with much waving of weapons, extravagant screaming, and unreserved bravado. Then, sure that the horns had gone in, the legionnaire turned to bugler riding behind him. “Sound the advance.”

Crystal-clear notes rent the morning air, and the dragoons moved forward. Gradually the zurnas transitioned from a walk, to a trot, to a canter. Then, as the entire line swept forward, the first sounds of battle were heard. Santana gritted his teeth as he heard the cloth-ripping sound of automatic weapons, the characteristic
thump, thump, thump
of a .50 caliber machine gun, and the firecracker fast
pop, pop, pop
of trade rifles going off. He couldn't see the T-2 yet, but knew the cyborg was up ahead somewhere, with Kuga-Ka on its back. Could the southerners continue to advance against such int
ense fire? Only time would tell.

The horns consisted of six columns of seasoned warriors each. The moment they penetrated the northern line four ranks turned outward, pushing the night people away, while the other two lines of cavalry turned in as they tried to hold those riders caught within the U where they were.

Meanwhile, having waited in vain for the Ramanthian war machines to arrive, and thereby ceded the initiative to the southerners, Srebo Riff had no choice but to tackle the enemy alone. He sent cavalry to counter the horns and hoped that the Hudathan could hold the center.

Haaby, Kuga-Ka, and what the renegade liked to refer to as his personal guard were out in front of the dragoons and determined to make a stand. They were all armed with Ramanthian assault rifles and, thanks to the Hudathan's training, knew how to use them. They went to the prone position,
waited for the enemy to come within extreme range, and opened fire.

The warrior on the zurna to Santana's right was snatched out of the saddle, as were a dozen more. The officer forced himself to ignore the mayhem around him and ordered the bugler to sound the six-note call for “Charge!” The dragoons hadn't fired a shot as yet, so the sooner they could dismount, the sooner they'd be able to shoot back.

The legionnaire kicked his mount's flanks and felt the animal stretch into a clumsy gallop. The zurna took three long strides, stumbled as a bullet struck its chest, but recovered and kept on going. Suddenly, for the first time since he had been thrown into contact with the ornery quadrupeds, Santana felt a moment of genuine admiration for the lung-shot beast as it forged ahead in spite of
its wound, air wheezing through distended nostrils, sand flying from immense hooves.

But valiant though the animal was, the zurna couldn't last forever, and when the legionnaire saw a cluster of brightly colored pennants ahead, he knew the time had come to bring the charge to a halt and begin the second phase of the attack.

A series of rising and falling notes sounded, hundreds of animals skidded to a halt, and the slaughter continued. Two ranks forward of him Dietrich saw three warriors literally come apart as the .50 caliber slugs struck them, and felt a warm mist touch his face as he hauled on the reins. The zurna slowed, finally came to a stop, and stood patiently while bullets whipped around it.

The .50 caliber slugs had to be coming from the T-2, and the noncom felt anger clog the back of his throat as he freed the launcher from the ties that held the weapon in place, turned toward the northern line, and swore as a riderless zurna came out of nowhere to block his shot.

Santana screamed to make himself heard over the constant yammering of the enemy guns and ordered his troops
to form up even as the deadly autofire cut them down. As the officer strode back and forth in front of them, he noticed a sword lying on the ground and felt a bullet tug at his sleeve when he bent to pick it up. He waved the weapon over his head, shouted “Advance!” and felt a moment of pride as the Paguum swept past him.

In the meantime the zurna that had been blocking Dietrich's shot had gone down when a .50 caliber slug ripped through its neck, and was still gushing blood as the dragoons lurched forward. The noncom forced himself to ignore everything around him, peered into the sight, and thumbed the zoom control. The target leaped forward. The T-2 towered over the northern troops—and the Hudathan seemed to be staring straight at him as Dietrich pulled the trigger.

But, just as the weapon left the tube one of Kuga-Ka's warriors accidentally fired a flare. It hit the ground, spun in circles, and burned white-hot. The missile's guidance system took note of the fact that the new source of heat was hotter than the first target it had been offered, made the necessary correction, and struck home. The resulting explosion killed more than a third of Kuga-Ka's guard and threw the rest into a state of confusion.

The renegade eyed the carnage, knew that a second missile would be along soon, and ordered Haaby to withdraw. The cyborg was backing away when the next rocket struck the ground ten feet in front of her. The explosion knocked half a dozen warriors off their feet and shrapnel rattled against the Trooper II's armor as she continued to pull back.

That was when the renegade sent word for the group he liked to refer to as the “hammer” to administer the Intaka, or “blow of death.” Eager to join the fray, the members of the six-warrior-wide one-thousand-warrior column came forward on the double as the sound of their huge kettledrums beat a deep, booming counterpoint to the steady
thump, thump, thump
generated by the smaller instruments
the dragoons carried. The airborne remotes that Kuga-Ka had introduced for training purposes accompanied them, thereby ensuring that his orders would be heard.

Though unaware of the way in which Dietrich had attempted to kill the T-2, Santana knew the rate of incoming fire had slackened and was extremely grateful. Somehow, in spite of the horror all around them, the dragoons had maintained their formation and were marching north with the precision of a machine.

When the six-warrior-wide column appeared, and the legionnaire saw the remotes flying above them, he knew it was Kuga-Ka's doing and swore through gritted teeth. Both groups were in range by then, so Santana shouted a series of orders that were repeated by unit commanders to both the left and right. “Dragoons, halt! Front rank kneel . . . Fire!”

Rifles crashed and muzzle flashes rippled all along the line as the infantry fired their weapons into the flying column. The first rank of warriors in the advancing column went down; they were plowed under by those behind and left half-buried in the bloody sand. One of the remotes, a tendril of smoke trailing behind it, spiraled into the ground and exploded.

The second rank of northerners raised their Negar III assault rifles and fired back, but because the column was only six warriors across only a tiny fraction of the entire force could use their weapons, while every dragoon still able to take his place in the line could reply. They were in a rhythm by then and moved forward like a machine as Santana bellowed orders. “Second rank advance! Kneel! Fire!”

Then, as the third rank came forward, the legionnaire ordered the dragoons to halt. That allowed the unit to deliver alternating volleys as one rank fired while another reloaded, and still another prepared to fire.

Kuga-Ka held the electrobinoculars to his eyes and swore as the hammer faltered, wavered, and broke under
the withering fire. The Paguum were brave, but their training had been all too brief, and this was their first engagement. The column disintegrated, the warriors came streaming back and swirled around him. The renegade shouted orders over the T-2's PA system, and even went so far as to shoot a few of the fleeing troops, but all to no avail. The Intak
a had failed. Only the remotes remained, hovering over the carnage like high-tech harbingers of doom.

The northern counterattack had failed, but there was still plenty of incoming fire. Santana turned to his bugler, saw the youth's head snap back as he took a bullet between the eyes, and was forced to rely on his voice instead. “Dragoons! Advance!”

Those Paguum who still could stepped over and around their fallen comrades, held their rifles at port arms, and marched grimly forward. Even though the dragoons were still some distance away, they had Srebo Riff 's attention by that time, and the chieftain found himself in something of a quandary. Not only had the strange foot soldiers defeated Kuga-Ka's hammer, but they were headed straight for
him
. Orders were issued, a messenger was dispatched, and
another
troop of cavalry was thrown into the fray.

Santana got the word over the team freq from Dietrich. “Bravo Three Six to Bravo Six. Over.”

“Go Three Six.”

“It looks like we have cavalry attacking from the left flank. Over.”

“Form a square. Pass the word. Over.”

Orders were shouted, warriors wheeled, and the dragoons created the box-shaped formation that Santana had taught them during the days leading up to the exercise at the Finger of God. And not a minute too soon because all of the distances had closed by then, and the northern cavalry thundered straight in. They rode full out, lances extended, expecting the impertinent foot soldiers to scatter like dust in
the wind. But the dragoons not only held, but fired their weapons in concert, sweeping dozens of warriors from their saddles. Paguum screamed, zurna squalled, and the killing continued as S
antana shouted words of encouragement to his troops. “That's it! You've got them now lads . . . Reload! Aim! Fire! Steady there . . . Fill that gap. Good job! Somebody shoot that officer . . . Yes, the one with the pennant!”

But roughly 25 percent of the cavalry were armed with Negar III assault rifles, and even though most of them weren't very good at using them, some enjoyed remarkable success. One of them went down when his zurna was hit, took shelter behind the animal's bullet-riddled carcass, and hosed the dragoons with autofire. The front rank on the western side of the square fell like grass to a scythe.

But Dietrich, who considered himself to be something of an artist with a grenade launcher, lobbed a round high into the air. Such was the noncom's timing that the round exploded
over
the warrior, blowing him to bloody bits. That, plus well-coordinated return fire from Santana and the four legionnaires still standing, eliminated the riders who had proven themselves most effective with the off-world auto rifles.