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«Tell it to the Net,» grunted Ardan'aath. «He was removed from the Path as he exited his Oolt' Po'os. One shot to the crest!»
«What sort of Alld'nt planet is this?» Kenallai wondered aloud.
«I may have an answer to that, my edas'antai,» answered one of the other God Kings in the ad hoc council of war.
He turned to his eson'antai, Kenallurial. Ardan'aath had yet to trust him. He was only recently raised from scoutmaster to the lowest level of battlemaster and filled with strange new concepts. Where a Kessentai might develop a few close and trusted allies, as Kenallai had with Ardan'aath, the Path was a Path of fury. In the heat the only call to depend upon was the call of the Blood. To trust an edas'antai was one thing, but to gather a group of like-minded Kessentai, to form wide allegiances and to advocate «thinking like the enemy» was not the Way of the Path.
Many of the other battlemasters advocated returning him to scoutmaster status for more seasoning. More time in the forefront of battle, when his weak allegiances disintegrated on him in the heat of edan, when his «allies» strove to be the first on the finest territory, thus increasing the yield of their fiefs, would, in the eyes of the older Kessentai, prove to him the error of his ways.
Nonetheless, whether because of the ties of blood, or because he suspected merit at the core of the young battlemaster's philosophies, Kenallai maintained him at his side.
Other oolt'ondai turned aside as the young battlemaster looked up from his Net interface. «I have found a reference to these thresh.»
«I looked for data on this world,» snorted Ardan'aath. «There was nothing. Only widespread reports of it as a fecund world of low technology, ripe for the plucking. We are lucky to have arrived ahead of the main waves. We shall gorge ourselves on territory and booty!» There were feral growls from the assembled God Kings.
«Not reports of these thresh from this world. They were reported on two other worlds within the last tar. Edas'antai,» he continued, touching a control to send the data to his elder's screen, «this report is most disturbing.»
The Posleen DataNet was a morass of poorly sorted information. Without a central control, information robots or any correlated indexes, data that was thousands of years old had identical priority with newer, more appropriate data. Navigating its rocks and shoals was a task few of the Kessentai enjoyed and most used it as little as possible. The Net permitted communication within the local area, distributed resources after conquest and occasionally called for reinforcements, but as a source of intelligence most Posleen found it lacking.
«In the last tar, thresh similar in appearance have begun to appear in small numbers. On Aradan 5 the invasion has been effectively repulsed.»
«What?» scoffed Ardan'aath. «The Po'oslena'ar have never been defeated!»
«They are on Aradan 5,» noted Kenallai quietly. «Many have already left. The few that remain are being pushed back day by day.»
«Note the data on the physiology,» Kenallurial continued. «They are definitely not modifications of the green ones for all they have some superficial similarities, nor of the thin ones. This is a new species and the first I have been able to find in the Histories with the Will to Battle.»
The other Kessentai began perusing the data dredged up by the young battlemaster and murmured among themselves.
«But these reports do not mention dwellings of these thresh,» noted the Oolt'pos' Kessentai. The brigade commander shook his crest in disturbed fury. The data from the other planets was ominous.
«No edas'antai, they do not.»
«Your analysis?»
«I believe we have landed on their homeworld,» the young leader caste answered.
«Then we have truly placed our esonal in the grat's nest,» said the brigade commander.
«We shall sweep them aside like abat,» said Ardan'aath, confidently blowing out a snort that scattered sputum across the grass of the road verge. «What are a few thresh?»
«Ask Aarnadaha,» commented Kenallai grimly. «Well, our scouts are pressing forward from the south. Soon we will have them between us, Sammadar and the remainder of Aarnadaha's forces.» He looked at the schematic of the Posleen closing in on the defenseless city. The three-dimensional image showed the flecks of located enemy and the relative locations of the Posleen forces. But the image was not a map; there were no symbols for road, buildings or terrain. Like ants, the Posleen depended on the paths of scouts for finding their way around. The best that they could do was vague images garnered during the landing phase that noted built-up areas and heavy defenses. Usually, unless a God King and his sensors were sitting on it, it was unknown land.
«We shall crush them beneath our talons and move on to the greater prize to the north. This is a sideline. Send forces up the greater highway behind the oolt of Aarnadaha,» Kenallai continued. «We can thereby lay claim to the fiefs he would have taken. There is great booty to be had there.»
«My scouts report that they are about to contact organized forces,» noted one of the oolt'ondai.
«Then let us move forward to observe these thresh. And hope that they are not threshkreen.»
«Best hope they are not metal threshkreen,» muttered Kenallurial, reviewing the data from the world humans called Diess, quietly so that Ardan'aath would not take notice. But Kenallai fluffed his crest in agreement.
* * *
«Is this go
«Well, that depends on what you mean by work, sir,» retorted Staff Sergeant Arthur Van Tri. His Eurasian features creased in a grin at the lieutenant who had reported to the unit only the week before. «If you mean save our lives, no. If you mean kill a whole piss-pot full of Posleen, oh yeah.»
The group of mixed engineers and civilians huddled in exhaustion on the ground floor of the Fredericksburg Assembly of God Church. A hole had been knocked high up on the wall, through which Staff Sergeant Tri, perched on a ladder, could look from time to time.
«I just hope they don't realize that fence posts usually have fences attached to them,» he continued, peering into the darkness through a night-vision scope.
«I just hope they don't realize that fence posts don't usually have bombs attached to their tops,» chuckled one of the civilians, playing with his blisters. «I don't give a shit, as long as you engineers get the bunker ready in time.»
«Don't worry, Mr. Sunday,» said Lieutenant Ray. «We'll get it done. First we dig 'em, then we die in 'em, right Sergeant Tri?»
«That's the Seabees, sir,» the sergeant sighed.
«Shouldn't we pull back, Sergeant?» continued the lieutenant, unrepentant. «We could set up another ambush.» He flourished the claymore. The clacker was set to one side, already hooked up to a detonator.
«Except for that we're about out of demo, sir. We really should have used it on the ambush.»
«Hey, Sergeant, it's like in the old days. Always save a round for yourself!»
«Echo 39, this is Tango 39, over.»
Sergeant Tri picked up the handset of the radio. The PRC-77 was an antique, but it could still do the job. «Tango 39, this is Echo 39, over.»
«Echo 39, we are about to initiate. Posrep Lafayette and Old Greenwich, over.»
«Roger, Tango 39, understand Posrep Lafayette and Old Greenwich, over. Still negative activity at this site.»
«Roger, Echo 39. Well, this is Tango 39, saying nice knowing you yah old chink.»
Sergeant Tri swallowed as his eyes misted. «Copy that Tango 39. See ya in hell, Hillbilly. This is Echo 39 out.»
Sergeant Tri wiped his eyes and peeked out through the opening again.
«Looks like I spoke too soon,» he said. «Might as well get your weapons ready.» Behind him the mixed force gathered up their rifles and started to move towards other slits cut in the wall.