Worlds of Honor

now flinging themselves across the sea toward Buwayjon.

Ryder turned away from the cockpit to start applying her camouflage cream. It was one of Chung's ideas; he'd pointed out that warpaint was as old as war, and did things for your morale and to the enemy's. Even in Old Earth's post-industrial wars, one warrior band had been known as 'the devils with green faces.'

Except that Ryder had never been able to put on makeup without at least three tries, and had always thanked God for regulations that strictly limited it for female officers on duty. She had succeeded in making her face into something that scared her when she glimpsed it in the mirror, and was trying to sort it out when she felt gentle fingers touching her cheeks from behind.

This was almost too public a touch even from Chung, but she was still not going to slam her elbow back into his stomach. Instead she sighed, not caring if he thought that meant pleasure, and a moment later she realized that it did. Chung was not only spreading the camouflage cream more evenly, his touch was taking a few of the knots out of her stomach.

'Just practicing for the sun lotion,' he whispered, when he was finished.

Before she could turn to thank him, he was gone, and the pilot was waving for her attention.

'We've picked up a clear signal, with a Peep Navy call sign. Reports they're heading south to investigate a suspected raid south of Point Luchuin.'

The map display was late Neolithic digital but it made at least the distance evident. 'That could be Claymore Three,' she said. 'Keep a passive watch for the pinnace. 'If it's airborne, we may have to take evasive action suddenly.'

Peep piloting might still let them evade at low level, but the pinnace would be more likely to be carrying air-to-air than air-to-ground weapons, let alone anti-ship ones. This raid could still end in a futile disaster: the Canmore Republic striking the first blow without gaining anything by it.

Then the white cliffs north of Buwayjon thrust above the horizon. Fishing boats of all sizes and colors whipped past to either side. Ryder motioned the pilot to climb a little to avoid being impaled on a mast.

A black hull with a dirty yellow superstructure and a white funnel, off to the right— Nautilus! The pilot jumped as Ryder blasted the word triumphantly into his ear.

'Just keep cool, Ma'am, and we'll have you on the ground in a minute.'

The minute seemed to last a millennium, and it didn't help that the pinnace switched to scrambled communications but kept talking, obviously on the track of something that had the people aboard excited. Ryder managed thirty seconds to check her gear and lock and load her assault rifle, then they were over the breakwater, below the top of the lighthouse, from which a woman in a nightgown stared as if she couldn't believe what her eyes showed her.

They raced over treetops, turned at the foot of the cliffs, saw the air base briefly as they banked—no pinnace in sight—and then slowed to come down on the Subinaro Esplanade next to the warehouse district.

As the noses came up and the counter-gravity on, the pilot swore. 'I forgot to drop the damned leaflets!'

That was a planned propaganda move—dropping thousands of leaflets telling the port's citizens to stay under cover, for the Republic had a quarrel only with the traitorous Carl Euvinophan and the imperialistic Peeps.

'I don't imagine that will do any harm,' came Chung's voice, 'unless Buwayjon is short of toilet paper.'

Then the landing gear groaned and squealed, hatches and ramps slammed open even before power died, and everybody was yelling 'Go, go, go!' so loudly that Ryder knew she was shouting too only because she could feel her throat vibrating.

'He did what?' Jean Testaniere said. If it would have relieved his feelings, he would have shouted, even screamed. Since that would only have added to what already seemed a first-class panic, he replied in as normal a tone as he could manage, with the erupting din of battle in his ear.

'The pinnace has gone south, to investigate and if necessary attack a Republican raiding force south of Point Luchuin. Citizen Captain Weldon went with it, in personal command.'

Citizen Sergeant Pescu looked as if he wouldn't mind being killed, as primitive tradition allowed with the bearers of bad news, if only to get him out of this embarrassing situation. However, it was so far only embarrassing. It was not yet fatal. Five minutes ago, the first three truckloads of Carl Euvinophan's troops had pulled into the Training Barracks Compound. In another five minutes, they could be out of their trucks and on the way to the tank depot and supply dump.

The whole five hundred would have been better, but convoy discipline, at night, on the kingdom's mountain roads, would have taxed anyone's ability. Fifty could fight at least a delaying action against any number of Manty puppets who could have ridden in four air freighters. And the Manties would be fighting in two directions at once, because forty Field Police and ten SS people were already on watch to defend their target.

'I'm going out to the air base,' Testaniere said. 'It has the best command facilities, and it's where Weldon will come if he has the sense to return in time. Deploy all StateSec personnel to guard the depot at all costs, and—'

'What about a message to Euvinophan's men?'

Testaniere slammed his fist down on the table. A calculator and an electronic notepad fell to the floor. The SS and Field Police knew Pescu; they would obey him if they obeyed anyone. But Euvinophan's infantry wouldn't recognize any local People's authority other than Testaniere himself, and if they wasted time arguing—

'I wasn't trying to run out,' Testaniere said.

'No, and neither was Citizen Captain Weldon. Just be glad you didn't make as big a mistake.'

Then they were both pounding down the stairs, with Pescu shouting back over his shoulder to start securing files. If even the clerks were going to be needed on the firing line, there was no reason to leave anything lying around for hostile or even curious eyes.

Ryder popped out an empty magazine and pushed a fresh one into her assault rifle. It was amazing how fast you went through ammunition, even if you had the sense and training to fire in three-round bursts. Some of the Sea Fencibles seemed to have forgotten even the abbreviated Royal Marine fire-discipline training they'd received. The use of those Peep weapons was looming closer every moment, as the raiders' ammunition supply shrank with gruesome speed.

At least it was gruesome for both sides, maybe a little more so for the enemy. Right now the raiders had the edge in numbers and firepower. The surviving SS and Euvinophan Field Police troops defending the tanks, armored personnel carriers, and supplies were getting very much the worst of the firefights.

They weren't giving up, however. Bullets whined and rattled on either side of Ryder, and a Sea Fencible doubled up, to fall screaming and writhing.

Welcome to the Fraternal Order of Those Who Know Bullets Hurt.

Ryder's radio squalled in her ear. 'This is Claymore Red Leader. I'm in the middle of a firefight. What is it?'

Chung's reply was cool enough to calm without reproaching. 'We have some of Euvinophan's infantry detrucking at the old Training Barracks. They seem to be armed, but not yet deploying. Also, Nautilus is within range and wants targeting data for the air base.'

'Tell them we have no observation on the air base. Negative observation, negative firing. Can you call them in on Euvinophan's goons?'

'If I can't, a lot of taxpayers got cheated on Erewhon and Manticore!'

'Less joking and more shooting, if you please.'

'Feeding data—now!'

That ought to do some good—the heavy-weapons platoon leader was not only one of the more promising Sea Fencible officers, he had three of the best heavy-weapons Marine sergeants Ryder had ever known. They were the kind who, if you told them to hit a specific house, would ask, 'Which room?'

Euvinophan's people were in trouble. If they broke and ran, even better—they wouldn't add to the body count and they would destroy their own reputation, also their leader's. Then it wouldn't matter what happened to