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The fellow was stirring, recovering from the unexpected clout of a rifle butt. Colonel Ivan promptly put a foot on his neck to prevent his rising.
Robert the Fox was back with a nod that dispositions had been made. “They may have been scouting us for days. That's a Psychlo radio!”
“Yes, and bomb fuse. I think there's more here-'
A bomb exploded in an orange blast about fifty feet away.
An assault rifle hammered out.
There followed a period marked only by the startled rush of birds and monkeys through the drip of rain.
Jo
“Take the rear first,” said Jo
“Charge!” bawled Colonel Ivan. Then something in Russian.
There was an instant hammering of assault rifles.
Bursting grenades racketed and smoke poured through the rain.
Ru
Screams!
Russian and Scot battle cries!
Then a lull. Then another furious hammer of assault rifles.
Another lull.
A voice, hoarse, rising way above the birds and rain, “We surrender!” English? Not French? The Coordinator looked confused.
Some distant ru
Jo
There was a clank and a hiss over there. Jo
They waited. No Psychlos came rushing out. The place must be flooded with air over there. But there was no reaction.
The rain came down and the birds and monkeys quieted. Drifting smoke, black powder smoke from the grenades, was harsh to the nose.
Chapter 6
Jo
The Scot carrying radio equipment answered his beckoning. The covering scrap of a tarpaulin was cascading rain. Jo
“Flight to Nairobi, standing by,” said Jo
Du
Jo
Assault rifles held low, ru
Jo
A squat hut made of stone sat there in the trees, festooned with insulators and surrounded by pipes. He recognized it as a fuel and ammunition manufacturing unit. Ha! They had one at this branch mine; probably to utilize all the excess power available from the hydroelectric plant.
The ground around it was roughed up with recent foot and flatbed traffic. The door was ajar. He gave it a push with his cane.
What a jumble! Fuel and ammunition canisters were usually stacked neatly on racks in these places. Side bins usually contained the various minerals used in concocting the contents of the canisters. A recent flurry of activity had left minerals spilled on the floor, and damaged unusable canisters underfoot. This place had been very busy very recently. He knew it took a bit of time to stir up and charge the brews that became fuel and ammunition and seal them into canisters. Had they worked here flat-out for days? A week?
He made his way over to the exit road that must go to the main minesite, using a short cut between the two roads. He looked at the brush on both sides of the exit road. Ordinarily his educated eye would have been able to track this easily, but the pouring rain made it more difficult.
He bent, examining some twigs broken from the underbrush that bordered the road. Some breaks, the ones that pointed toward the compound, must be several days old. Others, very fresh, still leaking sap, were broken in the direction of the main minesite up near a lake that old man-maps said had been called Lake Victoria.
A convoy had come in here many days– weeks?– ago and had gone out hours ago. A big convoy!
He glanced up the exit road, half-expecting to see trucks or tanks coming down it, back to the compound.
Their tactical situation was not ideal.
They had a small force of Brigantes holding out in the woods back of them. Somewhere, near or far, there must be the better part of a thousand Brigantes. And up this road– he looked at the traces of the ground drives-there were a very large number of Psychlo vehicles. Ore flatbeds? Tanks?
He heard their planes now. That sound wouldn't matter after all the uproar of this recent skirmish. And any convoy on that road wouldn't hear anything above their own motor drives. The vast canopy of treetops that made this place a twilight not only prevented anyone from looking down at the exit road and seeing anything on it, but also prevented anyone on it from seeing up.
A poor tactical situation. They could not fight a convoy, probably escorted with tanks, in this water-saturated, hemmed-in forest. Their planes were of no use to them.
He made his way over to the landing field. Sky! Not much sky but enough to get ore freighters up and down through. Leaking sky, but sky! He hadn't seen any sky in three days.
The soldiers were in the trees, covering the field. The mine radio bleeper was set in a fifteen-inch diameter vine that coiled like a huge snake up a tall tree. Maybe this field had once been bigger, but the jungle and the trees had encroached deeply.
The big marine attack battle plane wound down from directly overhead, letting the smaller battle plane cover it from above as was proper. Then the plane mushroomed a puddle of field water into a geyser and came to a halt. It was Du
Robert the Fox came rushing up. The side door of the big plane swung open and the officer of the remaining part of their force looked questioningly. Robert waved to him to sit tight, no emergency, and got into the smaller battle plane with Jo
Jo
“Ah,” said Du
Typical Du