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Bhrigu's grandfather had been a far-sighted old snake. When Jehanan industry had recovered to the point where scrap iron and hoarded steel could be worked again, and the chemical processes described by the old books could be followed, he had invested decades in scrounging up all of the detritus of the cataclysm which had swallowed the Arthavan civilization. Old Vazur had known the day would come when the cities of the Five Rivers would contest for supremacy with more than bow and shield and lohaja-bladed spears.
On that day, the old kujen had sworn his dynasty would prevail over their many rivals. The coming of the Imperials and their greedy merchants had vaulted a plan requiring decades of painstaking work to the edge of reality in only five years. Entire catalogs of machine tools and raw materials and prefabricated engines and pure, refined source chemicals had been presented to the kujen by the NГЎhuatl pochteca – all for the picking, if the quills could be had.
Now I must choose to show my hand…or not. Bhrigu stepped closer to the map, deep-set eyes searching the icons and flags and pins for an answer. How fragile is the balance in this moment? How much of a push is needed…
"How many tanks does Humara have?" he asked curiously after a long moment of consideration. "How does he plan to attack the Legation?"
"Three Aganu-class medium tanks, sire. Heavy ca
"Against how many humans?" Bhrigu wondered if his grandfather ever felt faint and dizzy in the midst of battle. Never! He breathed fire and spat steel nails…
"Reports from our spotters in a nearby khus say there are ten to fifteen Fleet Marines in light armor, plus another hundred or so unarmored civilians with a variety of small arms. They have some kind of high-speed ca
"Hrrrr! They have quick eyes," Bhrigu scowled, remembering diagrams in the old books of such systems. More toys we ca
I know what to do, he realized. Where to push, and just how hard.
The kujen turned to his guard-captain, scaleskin around his eyes tight. "Tell the pilots to get in the air and make for the Rusted Citadel with all speed."
Then Bhrigu hefted the comm in his hand and toggled the switch. The device came to life, made a fluttering noise while the unit searched for a relay node and then beeped happily, showing a green 'ready' indicator. This is what Vazur the Great felt like, he thought, feeling both stomachs unclench. He felt light, as if the weight of ages had been lifted from his shoulders. When his lancers burst from hiding upon the highlander left at Acare and shattered their great army. And then, as now, timing and leverage are everything…
His claw depressed the control button and the kujen raised the comm to his lips.
"This is Bhrigu," he said. "Tell your mistress I've matters to discuss with her."
Of course, mi'lord, Lachlan answered, sounding pleased. One moment, please.
The Imperial Legation
Within the Red Fort at Parus
The distant pop-pop-pop of small-arms fire permeated the air as Felix jogged up a flight of ancient steps within the southern bastion of the dhrada. Her skin was stretched tight and tingling with the aftereffects of too much stayawake. Her med-band should have locked itself out – or put her to sleep – if she hadn't disabled the safety features immediately after her last equipment review. The Marine Heicho ducked out a heavy stone embrasure, keeping her head low, and scuttled along a broad parapet lined with granite merlons. The ancient Jehanan stonemasons who'd raised the Rusted Citadel expected to defeat sinew-driven catapults, onager-driven stones and sheer muscle power; but the fortification they'd raised in the heart of Parus was proof against 8mm caseless as well.
A squat octagonal tower bulked against the night sky at the end of the parapet and Felix slipped into the shelter of a doorway with relief. Despite the intermittent snap! of Imperial guns along the perimeter, and the occasional mortar round whistling over the walls – the situation in and around the fortress had been quiet since dusk.
This does not, she reminded herself, hustling up a circular ramp, prevent some ca
But her troops did not have heavy armor, or weapons, and the Legation guards were no better equipped. Her lone Whipsaw was tasked to anti-artillery duty. Everyone else was scrounging ammo coils and whatever sharp sticks they could find in the Residence. Communications with the Regimental cantonment on the southern edge of the city were out – native jamming continued to snarl the comm cha
An attack is what we'll get with light, the Marine grumbled to herself. I should have taken my mother up on that offer to manage her hotel on Corcovado…
Her head rose through a hexagonal opening in the roof of the tower and the Heicho stopped. "Clear to enter the satellite relay station?"
"Clever, Corporal, very clever," Helsdon replied from the shadows on the far side of the rooftop. "Best to crawl – I've avoided attention by showing no lights and very little motion – but I am sure someone is watching out there in the darkness."
Felix bellied down and sidewindered over to the chief machinist's mate, who was sitting cross-legged in the protection of a heavy square flagpole mount. The engineer was surrounded by a motley collection of comps, toolkits, comm gear and miscellaneous lengths of pipe fitted together into a rough ante
"The ru
Helsdon nodded towards a crude parabolic ante
Helsdon tilted his head, listening to the warble of static and chattering machine noise on one of the earbugs in his hand. "Shipside comm has reset – these are all default negotiation messages in the data-stream – the Thai-i changed them all years ago…"