March Upcountry

Again the belt-fed launchers spat out their packages of death, tearing the ranks of the enemy apart. But still the natives closed up over the mangled bodies of their comrades and came on, blowing their horns and bellowing war cries.

"Okay," Pahner said, satisfied. "Back under cover." He pursed his lips and whistled. " 'When you're wounded and left on Marduk's plains—' "

Most of the grenadiers filed back into the bastions, where the hastily constructed doors were wedged in place. The few who stayed on the wall picked up their bead rifles and opened fire again. The enemy was about to assault.

"Sir," Lieutenant Jasco said, with a grunt that carried clearly over the com, "I've got more ladders coming up than I've got hands to push down. I need some support here."

"Same here," Roger reported, and Pahner heard the distinctive sound of steel meeting flesh over the prince's radio. "We're about to lose the wall!"

"Too soon," Pahner whispered, peering through the slit that overlooked Roger's position. There were already Mardukans on the wall, in close combat with the Marines, and he saw Roger lop the head off one, while Cord speared another.

"Call out your grenadiers and plasma gu

The fresh infusion of Marines and a barrage of grenades pushed the enemy off the walls, and Pahner was relieved to see no prone bodies and only a few Marines nursing wounds.

"Switch out weapons. Put the wounded in the bastions." He looked out the slit facing the enemy, who seemed to be getting back in shape rather quickly. "And get ready for another attack!"

"Inside, Despreaux." Roger thumbed towards the bastion.

"I'm not hurt that bad, Sir." She hefted her rifle with her left hand, and started to try to reload it one-handed.

"I said, get in the bastion!" Roger snatched the weapon out of her hand. "That's an order, Sergeant."

Her jaw clenched, but then she nodded.

"Yes, Sir!" She saluted with her left hand.

"And get Liszez to replace you."

"Aye," she answered, and he nodded and turned towards the gate.

"Kameswaran! I thought I told you to get your ass into the bastion!"

Jimmy Dalton stroked the butt of the bead rifle and shook his head. There sure were a shit-load of the damned scummies.

The plasma gu

Dalton ran his hand across the positions of all the gear and shook his head. Just had to hope he didn't need any of the stuff in a hurry.

The prince came up and looked out of the mini-bunker the private occupied.

"Looks like they're getting ready to come back."

"Yes, Your Highness." The private wished he had his plasma rifle; that would slow them up. "When do we open fire?"

"When Gu

"Yes, Your Highness." The plasma gu

The prince seemed to read his mind.

"This is hard, waiting for them to come to us. But it would be worse worrying about being ambushed from here to the sea. We need to suck them in and kill them all, Jimmy, not just drive them off."

Dalton hadn't thought the prince even knew his name.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I'm not Prince Roger right now, Jimmy. I'm just your platoon leader. Call me Lieutenant MacClintock."

"Yes, Your—Lieutenant," the private said. As if he didn't have enough to worry about.

Most of the ladders were still at the base of the wall, so the Kranolta came on at an unburdened run in the second wave.

"Fire!" Jin barked as they passed the hundred-meter stake and picked out his own target—one covered with horn trophies. "Take that, you bastard," he whispered, as the chieftain and two followers fell away from the burst of fire.

Roger pulled out another magazine and inserted it even as he maintained fire. The double magazine system was made for situations like this. His accuracy was somewhat degraded during the switch, but as long as he fired into that incredible mass of targets he was bound to hit something.

The Kranolta packed the ground before the wall as they reached its base and the ladders started coming up again. They were more tangled than in the first assault, but a little thing like that was nothing in the chaos at the wall's foot. Thousands of them were packed dozens deep, each and every one of them determined to be the very first over the battlements.

"Grenades, Gu

"Yes, Sir," Jin approved and called the order. A dozen grenades sailed into the close-packed Kranolta, exploding with deadly effectiveness, but the close press of bodies actually lessened their effect by absorbing blast and fragments, and the holes they opened closed rapidly as the feet of fresh waves of tribesmen pounded their less fortunate fellows into paste.

Roger charged forward as the first ladder came up in his sector. He and PFC Stickles managed to heave it back over the side with a descending scream from the scummies on it, but three more came up in the time it took to push one off. The Kranolta were pushing forward again through sheer weight of numbers and there were nowhere near enough humans to cover the full length of the wall.

"Grenades!" Pahner barked. "All you've got!"

Roger ripped one of the hundred-gram cylinders off his belt with his left hand, thumbed the activator, and tossed it over the wall just as the first scummy appeared at the top of a ladder. The prince put two rifle beads into the attacker one-handed even as he threw two more grenades, but by then the Kranolta were over the wall.

His magazine clicked suddenly empty, and he tossed the rifle into "his" bunker and waded in with the katana as he had before. This battle was a complete madhouse, with dozens of screaming barbarians clambering over the parapets, their false-hands holding the ladders and both true-hands filled with weapons. Trading parries with a scummy who was better than usual, Roger found himself back-to-back with Cord and realized they were practically alone. Most of the Marines had retreated into the bastions, but there were a few human bodies scattered along the wall.

"Cord!" Roger ducked a swing and opened the attacking Kranolta from thigh to breastbone. "We have to get off the wall!"

"No doubt!" the shaman shouted back, and speared another attacker. The barbarian dropped, but Cord suddenly found himself facing three replacements, and they did not appear to be taking turns. "How?"

Roger was about to reply, when his eyes widened and he spun and lunged at Cord. He tackled the much larger shaman hard enough to drive both of them into his mini-bunker... just as the flight of grenades from Third Platoon's bastion landed.