The Compleat Bolo

"Sure, Henry, I was jest…" the reservist faltered.

"Fall out!" Henry shouted over the din. "Form up in front of Lightner's!"

The bewildered Fencibles, grateful for authoritive guidance, broke up into a dozen small groups and headed across the street, all talking at once, their voices drowned out by rumbling as the mighty Bolo's treads pulverized the hard-rutted street surface, moving past them with the irresistibility of a moon in its orbit.

"-going right after 'em!"

"-here, where's it-my store!"

"Damn thing's going the wrong way! Damn spodders is thataway!"

A man ran a few steps after the combat unit as it angled abruptly right and crossed the walkway to doze aside the building which stood in its path, one of the older warehouses, trampling the old boards flat while its owner danced and yelled in frustrated fury.

"Hey, you damfool! Not that way, over here!" Cy Kibbe shouted, his voice lost in the splintering of seasoned timber.

As the townsfolk watched in astonishment, the old machine laid its track of destruction through the warehouse, taking off the near corner of the adjacent structure, and continued out across the formerly tilled acreage, trailing a tangle of metal piping and conduit ripped from the flattened buildings.

"It's ru

"Well, boys, it looks like we're on our own after all," Boone yelled, his voice overloud in the comparative hush. "Let's form up in a column of ducks here and go roust them damn spodders!"

"Stand fast!" Henry's command rang out, bringing movement to a halt. He strode across to take up a position between Boone and his disordered command.

"The enemy has zond projectors, and they've set up a z-beamer. Do you have any idea what those energy weapons can do to you? Now, fall out and go about your business."

"Not while I'm colonel," Boone shouted. "I don't know who you think you are, tryna give the orders around here, but we ain't going to jest stand by while a bunch of spodders take our land!"

"Just a minute," Davis' cool voice cut in, as the government man stepped forward to confront Henry.

"You say you were a Marine, Mr. Henry. May I ask what your duties were in the Corps?"

"Sure," the old fellow replied promptly. "My duties was killing the enemy."

"I recall a case some twenty years ago," Davis said as if musing aloud. "It involved a much-decorated combat veteran who refused a direct order from the Council, and was cashiered." Davis glanced at Henry's face, set in an inscrutable expression.

"Wanted me to supervise burning out all our old combat veterns-combat units, I'm talking about," Henry said in an indignant tone. "Didn't need 'em anymore, the damned civilians figgered, so I was supposed to see they all had their cores melted down. Damned if I'd do it!" Henry spat past Davis' foot.

"His name, as I recall," Davis said imperturbably, "was Major General Thadeo Henry." He put out his hand. "I think all of us are glad now you got here in time to prevent the destruction of our old Jonah, General Henry."

Henry took the proffered hand briefly. "I was lucky on that one," he muttered. "I was just a 'misbegotten dog of a broken officer' as Councilman Gracye put it, but the locals here were on my side. They run that demolition crew back where they came from. Good thing Spivey's is so far back in the boondocks; they never bothered with us after that. And now," he went on after a pause, "you're thinking a Bolo righting machine has run off and deserted in the face of the enemy. Not bloody likely."

At that moment, a staccato series of detonations punctuated the hush that had followed Henry's astonishing statement. Through the gap where the Bolo had passed the machine was visible half a mile distant now, surrounded by smaller enemy Yavac units, three of which were on fire. The others were projecting dazzling energy beams which converged on the Bolo, stationary now like a hamstrung bison surrounded by wolves. As the townsfolk watched, the Bolo's forward turret traversed and abruptly spouted blue fire. A fourth Yavac exploded in flames.

"General Henry," Davis addressed the old man formally, "will you assume command for the duration of the emergency!"

Henry looked keenly at Boone and said, "Colonel, I trust you'll stay on and act as my adjutant." The reservist nodded awkwardly and stepped back.

"Sure I will," Henry told Davis firmly. "Now after old Jonah finishes with that bunch, he'll swing around and hit the advance party from the flank. Meantime, we lie low and don't confuse the issue."

"Right, General," Boone managed to gibber before turning with a yell to the disorganized crowd into which his command had dissolved.

"Ah, General," Davis put in diffidently. "Isn't there something constructive we could do to assist, rather than standing idly by, with all our hopes resting on an obsolete museum-piece?"

"The Deng have one serious failing, militarily, Mr. Davis," General Henry replied gravely.

"Inflexibility-the inability to adjust promptly to changing circumstances. They're excellent pla

Through the gap the Bolo had flattened in passing, the great machine was still visible within the dust-and-smoke cloud raised by the action. Five enemy hulks now sat inert and smoldering, while seven more were maneuvering on random evasive tracks that steadily converged on the lone Bolo, pouring on their fire without pause.

I select another enemy unit as my next target. These class C Yavac scouts are no mean opponents; clearly considerable improvement has been made in their circuitry during the two centuries of my absence from the field. Their armor withstands all but a.9998-accurate direct hit on the turret juncture. My chosen target-the squad leader, I compute-is a bold fellow who darts in as if to torment me. I track, lock onto him, and fire a long burst from my repeaters, even as I detect the first indications of excessive energy drain. My only option is to attune my charging grid to the frequency of the Yavac main batteries and invite their fire, thus permitting the enemy to recharge my plates-at the risk of overload and burn-out. It is a risk I must take. I fire what I compute is my last full-gain bolt at the enemy unit, at the same time receiving a revivifying jolt of energies in the Y-band as I take direct hits from two Yavacs. I am grateful for the accuracy of their fire, as well as for the sagacity of my designers, who thus equipped me to turn the enemy's strength against him-so long as my defensive armor and circuitry can withstand the overload. I see the squad leader erupt in fire, and change targets to the most aggressive of his subordinates. He was a bold opponent. I shall so report to my commander, taking due note of the fallen enemy's ID markings.

"Looky there! He done blowed up another one!" Hick Marlowe cried, pointing to the exploding Yavac which was already the focus of all eyes. "Look at old Jonah go! Bet he'll pick 'em off one at a time now till he gets the last one. But…" Hick paused, squinting through the obscuring dust, "he sure is taking a pasting his ownself-but he can handle it, old Jonah can! He's starting to glow-must be hotter than Hell's hinges in there!"

"Can it stand up to that concentrated fire, General?" Davis asked the newly-appointed commander.

Henry nodded. "Up to a point," he muttered. "Depends on how much retrofit he got before they sent him out here. Now, this is top GUTS-information, Davis, but under the circumstances, I think you qualify as a 'Need to Know.' The new-or was new back in Ought-Four-defensive technology is to turn the enemy strength against him, by letting the Bolo absorb those hellish Y-rays, restructure them, and convert the energy into usable form to rebuild his own power reserve. But to do it he has to invite the enemy fire at close range-that's why he's sitting still-and take all the punishment that entails-if he can handle it without burnout. At best his 'pain' circuitry is under severe overload. Don't fool yourself, Davis. That's no fun, what Unit JNA is going through out there. Good boy! He took out another one, and now watch that fellow on the left, he's been getting pretty sassy, nipping in and out. My guess is he's next."