return to sanity.
Because of a strong military and police presence, those citizens who wanted to leave had to do so via spiraling pedestrian ramps rather than the streets. That allowed the driver to make better time, and it was only a matter of a few minutes before he passed through a checkpoint and entered the spacious garage that was located beneath the Queen’s official residence.
Three armored cars and a contingent of brightly armored Imperial Guards were gathered around the entrance. That was a sure sign that the royal was waiting within. The driver brought the car to a smooth stop-and was surprised when Parth opened the door himself. Perhaps, Haka thought to himself, we’re in more trouble than I thought.
Parth shuffled into the lobby, saw that the Queen was dressed in the same armor that was standard for her guards, and instinctively understood what she hoped to accomplish. Even if she couldn’t be the Warrior Queen, she could look warlike, and that would be good for morale. Parth’s respect for her went up a notch as she spoke. “You’re late.”
“Sorry, Majesty,” Parth replied as he bent a knee. “The roads are full of refugees. But never fear. Our motorcade will take us to a secured landing pad where a military transport is on standby. From there it is only a ten-minute flight to Hive Home. And once underground, you will be safe from everything up to and including a direct hit from a nuclear weapon.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Queen replied contemptuously. “There won’t be any nuclear weapons. The Warrior Queen is ruthless, but she wants to rule over something more than a radioactive wasteland. No, if you’ve seen the propaganda broadcasts, then you know what she intends to do.”
Parth had seen the broadcast but had no idea what the Warrior Queen planned to do other than reclaim her throne and kill him. There was a horrible emptiness in the pit of his stomach. “I’ve seen the footage, Majesty… But I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“I should never have allowed myself to listen to you or to go along with your traitorous plans,” the royal said bitterly. “But, like you, I’m ambitious. And I believed I could use the cabal and ultimately take control of it. That was naive. We still have a chance, however. Not much of one, but a chance nevertheless. And that is to go to the Plain of Pain and confront the Warrior Queen.”
“The Plain of Pain? Why there?”
“Because she is playing the part of the Kathong,” the Queen answered impatiently. “She has to go there. Then, once we kill the Kathong,” the royal continued, “the Ramanthian people will know who the true Queen is. And even if the animals succeed in taking control of Hive, they will still have to deal with the person in charge. Me. ”
It was an audacious plan. Parth felt humbled. Here, rather than an empty vessel, was a monarch reminiscent of the great mother. And, thanks to the cloud of psychoactive chemicals that enveloped him, Parth discovered that he wanted to serve her. He bowed deeply. “I am your servant, Majesty. Your car awaits.”
According to current military doctrine, three conditions had to be met in order to carry out an opposed landing on a Class III planet: (1) Secure orbital control, (2) Achieve air superiority, and (3) Place enough troops on the ground to hold the landing zone (LZ) while more troops and supplies are brought down through the atmosphere.
Unfortunately, allied forces didn’t have complete control of the battle platforms in orbit around Hive-nor did they have unchallenged air superiority. But what they did have was a hole through which Landing Force Alpha could pass in order to establish an LZ on the Plain of Pain, a desolate place that had a special significance for the Ramanthian people.
But there were other reasons for establishing a beachhead on the Plain of Pain as well. First, there was no civilian population to worry about. And that was of considerable importance to the Queen because a great deal of collateral damage would make it difficult, if not impossible, for her to rule. Second, there were no localized defenses to deal with. And why would there be? It was, as one senior officer put it, “a goddamned desert.” And third, there was plenty of elbow room, which Confederacy forces were going to need if they hoped to put enough people and equipment on the ground to hold the LZ.
To accomplish that, Booly had ordered his generals to drop eight fully equipped TACBASEs onto the plain first. The so-called drop boxes formed a defensive ring five miles across and were ready to do battle within minutes of landing. And that was a good thing because no sooner had the last TACBASE thumped down and leveled itself up than the fortresses came under attack by Ramanthian armor. The bugs weren’t stupid. They knew what the off- worlders hoped to accomplish-and were determined to prevent it.
But because the high command hadn’t anticipated the possibility of any landing, much less a landing on the Plain of Pain, all they could do on such short notice was to rush lightly armored vehicles and troops into the area. Their job was to hold the animals in place until a battalion of Gantha tanks could arrive on the scene.
The problem was that each TACBASE included four quads as well as sixteen T-2s and their riders. Within ten minutes after landing, the highly mobile legionnaires were dispatched to plug the gaps between the drop boxes. And thanks to their superior firepower, they were able to lay waste to the attacking vehicles even as dozens of Confederacy ships put down inside the circle of steel. The Fury was one of them. The ship landed on a low rise around which troops were starting to mass.
Vanderveen was no stranger to violence, or to warfare for that matter, but had never been part of a planetary invasion. And she was nearly overwhelmed by the assault on her senses as Booly, the Warrior Queen, and the rest of them clattered down a ramp and onto the reddish soil. Half a dozen senior officers were waiting to update Booly on the tactical situation as Santana and his soldiers formed a protective cordon around the VIPs. Vanderveen took the opportunity to look around.
A complicated tracery of white lines carved the blue sky into dozens of abstract shapes as the life-and-death struggle for air superiority continued, and the ground shook as artillery rounds fired from twenty miles away marched across the LZ. The first couple of explosions did little more than throw fountains of reddish soil high into the air. But the third scored a direct hit on a troop transport and blew it apart. Chunks of flying metal cut an entire squad down, struck an assault boat that was in the process of landing a hundred yards away, and destroyed that as well.
It all happened so quickly that Vanderveen was still trying to absorb it as a pall of smoke rose to obscure the scene, the artillery shells continued to march across the LZ, and a newly arrived quad lurched past. It was surrounded by a pack of rakish T-2s, all armed with shoulder-mounted missile launchers, ready to defend the larger cyborg from speedy attack vehicles. The stench of smoke, fuel, and ozone was thick in Vanderveen’s nostrils as servos whined, a Dag screamed past, and a series of explosions were heard.
Vanderveen’s thoughts were interrupted as Santana approached on a T-2 with another cyborg at his side. “It’s time to saddle up. This is Corporal Haskins. She’ll take good care of you.”
Vanderveen had ridden T-2s before though not recently. But old habits returned quickly as the diplomat circled around behind the cyborg and made use of the recesses built into the back of the trooper’s legs to climb upwards. A helmet was waiting for her. Once she put it on and the safety harness was fastened, it was time to say hello. “Thanks for the ride, Corporal. I’ve done this before, but it’s been a while. Don’t hesitate to boss me around.”
The voice on the intercom was female. “Roger that, ma’am… Just keep your head down. The major told me that I’ll be stationed on a one-woman asteroid if anything happens to you.”
“I’ll do my best,” Vanderveen promised and made a mental note to complain about the special treatment later. Although the truth was that she was equally guilty, because she had known Dietrich for as long as she’d known Santana and given the noncom similar instructions. With the exception of the Queen, who was larger than a T-2 and fully capable of keeping up with one, the rest of the party was strapped onto cyborgs and ready to depart. Chancellor Ubatha had been ordered to remain behind and assume control of the Ramanthian government if necessary. Booly gave the group a last-minute briefing via the company-level push. “The enemy is trying to pin us down long enough to bring their heavy armor to bear. They plan to win the battle in orbit, establish air superiority, and trap us in the LZ.
“So we’re going to break out, use our speed to flank their tanks, and kill them. Meanwhile, a flight of vid cams will follow her majesty into battle and live footage of her return will be fed to the Ramanthian population. Questions?”
