Gust Front

«Feel free to look around, gentlemen,» he told the pair of soldiers, officers if his «Uniforms and Insignia of the United States Armed Forces» was any judge. «However, I prefer not to sell anything today. I have decided to maintain my collection intact for old sake's sake.» He chuckled at the reference neither of the soldiers would possibly recognize.

«Hi, Mr. Worth, it's me, Ke

«Ah, yes, young Mr. Young,» he said with another breathy chuckle. «The uniform befits you. I thought you were studying engineering?»

«I'm a military engineer.»

«Ah! A Pioneer! Bravo. Where are you based?»

«Here, Mr. Worth. That's what the local Guard unit is, Engineers.» Lieutenant Young smiled faintly. It was a well-known fact that Bill Worth hadn't set foot outside of the five or ten blocks of what he termed «historic Fredericksburg» in years.

«Ah, yes, somewhere up Route 3 isn't it?» asked the shopkeeper, quizzically.

«Yeah, about a mile from here,» chuckled the lieutenant.

«Ah. Terra Incognita, indeed. So, to what do I owe the honor of your presence on this most gloriously unpleasant evening?»

«Well, we need to find out about the tu

«Yes,» commented the local historian, with a nod of his head. «Well, it would really be Ralph Kodger, you need to talk to about them . . .»

«But he's . . .» noted the lieutenant.

«Dead, yes, but a great historian in his time. Or perhaps Bob Bailey . . .» continued Worth.

« . . . who . . .» said Young.

« . . . moved to Kansas, yes, I see you're ahead of me here.»

«Do you know anything about them? Where the openings are?» asked the engineer.

«What their structure is?» asked the other soldier.

«And you are, sir?» Bill asked politely. The older soldier was obviously impatient, one of those people who feel it necessary to continuously rush about as if life wasn't always exactly the same length.

«Captain Brown, sir, Charlie Company commander,» said Captain Brown, shortly. «We hope to hide some of the women and children in the tu

«A valorous endeavor indeed,» commented Worth, setting down his Defoe and walking to the desk that was the center of his domain. «Might I ask a few questions?»

«As long as you're quick,» snapped the impatient commander.

«How are they to survive?» asked the shopkeeper. «The women and children that is. Without air, food or water? There won't be much room for that sort of thing, I would suppose.» He rummaged in the top drawer of the desk and extracted a pad of what appeared to be parchment.

«It turns out that the paramedics have been using a Galactic medication called Hiberzine that can put a person in suspended animation for months,» said the lieutenant, excitedly. «Public Safety has plenty of it; we can pack in as many as can fit. Resources are not an issue.»

«Ah, and how do you intend to blow up the city?» Mr. Worth asked, begi

«We're going to fill some of the buildings with natural gas, basically,» answered Captain Brown. «It'll do the job; do those centaur bastards anyway. Now, I'm sorry, but if you don't mind, we need to find somewhere to stash the women and children. If you'll excuse us?»

«Actually, I think you might consider my pump house,» Worth noted with a world-weary laugh, continuing to sketch.

«We need something larger than a pump house,» said the captain, assuming he meant one covering the well for a house. «Thank you just the same. Come on, Lieutenant.»

«Captain,» the storekeeper drawled, finished scribbling rapidly on his pad, «would something like this suffice?» He held up the sketch. «A two-story underground pump house for an industrial plant? Three-foot-thick concrete walls? Fifty feet long, thirty feet wide? Two levels? Underground?»

«Jesus,» whispered Captain Brown, snatching the pad. «Where is this?»

«By the river,» Worth answered with a dry smile.

«You own this?» asked Lieutenant Young, peering at the well-drawn sketch.

«Yes, I bought it several years ago and fixed it up,» answered the storekeeper.

«Why?» asked Captain Brown, curious despite himself.

«Well,» answered Bill Worth, with a sigh, «it's got such a beautiful view of the river. . . . Captain, if I offer this made-in-heaven facility for your little plan, can I pick which building you blow up?»

* * *

«Are you sure about this, Captain?» asked the first sergeant of Charlie Company as Second and Third platoons assembled in the parking lot of the Fredericksburg Executive Building. A seven-story block of unimaginative '70s architecture, it had all the aesthetic appeal of a brick, creating a modern eyesore among the pleasant stone seventeenth– and eighteenth-century buildings that predominated in the city center.

«It was Mr. Worth's only condition and it's really the best building for our purpose,» answered the captain. «It's got plenty of volume, it's close to the pump house but the railroad embankment will create a blast shadow and I have to agree, not that it matters, that it is one of the ugliest buildings I have ever seen.» He turned back to the assembled troops and raised his voice to carry over the sound of approaching semitrailers.

«Men, we are going to kill two birds with one stone. While some of you prepare a bunker to hide the women and children, others of you are going to prepare a reception for the Posleen they will never forget. We have found an industrial pump house that used to supply water for the old cellophane mill. It is partially buried and has three-foot-thick concrete walls.

«Second platoon, along with these arriving construction guys, is going to finish covering it with as much overburden as we can find, while also preparing the inside. You need to fair over the opening to the pump house proper, you'll see what I mean when you get in there. The radio station is calling for anyone with welding equipment to come here and construction equipment is being diverted from the Interstate lines to assist.

«Get the pump house covered with overburden and get the opening faired over with sheet and structural steel, whatever you can find. When we get as many women and children in as we can, we'll blow the tower and seal them in.

«I've looked it over and there may be room for all the surviving women and children, praise be to God. Since there may not be time or room, the chief of police is starting a lottery for who goes in and the order. Only children under sixteen and their mothers are going in the bunker.

«The problem is that if we just bury the noncombatants, the Posleen will dig them out like anteaters after termites. We need to create as much disruption as possible and try to make it appear that there is nothing left to find in Fredericksburg, and especially not on this side. To do that, we are going to turn this building,» he pointed with his thumb at the monstrosity over his shoulder, «into a giant fuel-air bomb.

«Trucks are coming from Quarles Gas to pump it full of propane. But first it has to be prepped. I want Third platoon to get in there and blow holes through all the floors, to increase interior circulation. And before you leave make sure every interior door is open. While the building is being prepped, the first sergeant will rig it for demolition. Don't set any of your charges in his way.

«When you're done, which should take less than forty-five minutes, you'll either go to the bunker work, or up to prepare the town defenses.»

He gestured to the arriving lowboys burdened with bulldozers and backhoes. «Second, we're depending on you and those guys to make an impregnable bunker. Get to work. And Third,» he gestured to the cases of C-4 at the entrance to the building, «go blow some holes. Keep your helmets on, somebody might be blowing above you.»