March To The Sea

to put down a coup in Q'Nkok, nor to install a rational regime in Marshad. We especially aren't here to interfere in internal Diaspran politics.

'We're wrecked here, and just trying to get home. And, frankly, kicking off a coup just before a major battle against an external enemy is not an action that favors that.'

'Gratar doesn't favor fighting the Boman,' the figure the computer—and Pahner—had identified as Bogess said.

'Neither does Grath over there!' Roger snapped. 'What? You thought I wouldn't recognize his voice, Bogess?'

There was a moment of silence, and then Bogess threw back his hood and made a gesture of resignation.

'You humans all sound alike to us. We assumed you wouldn't be able to distinguish our voices.'

'He cannot be allowed to talk!' Chain squeaked furiously. 'We've come too far; we're too exposed.'

'And what would you have us do, merchant?' the war leader asked with a grunting laugh. 'Kill him? Have you seen those weapons of theirs in action?'

'I wouldn't suggest trying it,' Willis said, unprompted. 'I really, really would not.'

'Yes,' From agreed. 'We are exposed. And that's the point. We've advanced our timetable on the basis of our hope that you would intervene.'

'Well that was certainly silly,' Roger said. 'Until the battle's over, we're not about to interfere.'

'But we must,' Bogess told him. 'Other cities had begun eyeing us with greed even before the Boman advanced upon us. With the damage we're certain to take from the Boman, they'll surely take advantage of us.'

'Yeah,' Roger said. 'But not until after the battle. And they might not even then. If we beat the Boman soundly—which is possible, if we're not fighting a damned civil war at the same time—it will give them pause.'

'And continue to leave businesses stagnant, if there's no change within the city,' Gessram Kar said, still without lowering his hood.

'And our technology,' From agreed. 'Not to mention the fact that we who have sought to change things will undoubtedly be sent to visit the God.'

'Guys, I don't know the answer to that,' Roger said. 'All I can say is, let's get the battle done. Then we can try to work something out. But until we get rid of the Boman threat, a civil war is out of the question.'

'What if Gratar says we won't fight the Boman?' Bogess asked. 'What then? As you've pointed out, we will have them as an astain on our necks for the rest of eternity.'

'Oh, not that long,' Roger said with a chuckle. 'Just until they drain you dry and decide to finish overrunning you.'

'But if Gratar decides to appease the Boman?' Kar asked.

'Then . . . we'll see,' Roger said. 'There are some ways we might be able to make a fast strike through to K'Vaern's Cove. We might not have to fight the Boman at all. And we'll know Gratar's decision soon enough,' he added, directing a thought at his toot. 'In fact, if we don't hurry, we'll all be conspicuously missing from his speech.'

'If he says 'no,' ' Chain hissed, 'you'd better hope the Boman give you time to escape!'

* * *

'Captain Pahner, Sir,' Private Kraft said from the door of the intel room. 'Sir, St. John (J.)'s team has been trying to get hold of you, Sir. It looks like the Boman are moving.'

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

'What've you got, Despreaux?'

The Drying Ceremony was about to start, and virtually everyone who was anyone wasn't going to be there on time. Pahner shook his head at the black humor of the situation, wondering what, if anything, Gratar was going to think when half his Council and all of his alien advisers arrived late from every direction, out of breath, and clearly disturbed. The fact that the long-awaited Boman offensive could actually be used to cover domestic shenanigans which should never see the light of day appealed to the captain's sense of irony.

Which, unfortunately, didn't necessarily make that offensive good news.

'Captain, we've got loads of trouble,' the sergeant responded over her com. 'I sent Bebi and Kileti out to eyeball the encampment just as soon as it started to dry out at all. They'd just gotten into position—they hadn't even had time to start a proper hide—when the Boman started pouring out of their camps on the hills.'

'Tell them to pull back,' Pahner snapped as the headquarters group turned the last corner to the court where the audience was to take place. The solid wall of Mardukans in front of them forced them to pause briefly, and he could hear the intonations of the opening ceremony on the other side. Things weren't quite out of hand yet. If Gratar decided against engaging the Boman, though, it would be a near run thing.

'I did, but they're stuck. They were setting up on a little ridge leading to that group of hills the Boman are on. Now the barbs are using the ridge to stay out of the muck down in the lows. They're headed right for Bebi and Kileti, and they both say if they move it would give them away. They're stuck, Sir.'

'Right.' The captain had been in enough screwed-up situations to know exactly what his Marines were thinking, and he agreed. If they were even slightly hidden, it would be better for them to stay still than to try to move. 'What about you?'

'We're not on their direct line to Diaspra, Sir,' the sergeant replied. 'Right now it looks like they're going to bypass us. If they don't, well, we'll see what happens.'

'Okay,' Pahner said as the Marines began to push their way through the throng of scummies. 'Get a movement estimate and count, then report back. Patch it to the Sergeant Major, though. I'm going to be kinda busy.'

'Aye, Sir,' the patrol leader said. 'But I can already tell you, the count is 'a shitload.''

* * *

'There's a shitload of 'em,' PFC Kileti whispered.

'I know, Chio,' Bebi whispered back. 'Now shut up.'

The team had just reached the observation point when they spotted the oncoming Boman horde. The barbarians flowed without any semblance of order, a vast mass of walking Mardukans that seemed to move in extended family groups. A senior male or two and several younger males would be accompanied by nearly as many females and a gaggle of young from 'snot-sucker' infants up to preadolescents. There were some purely male groupings, and a few of unescorted younger females, but, by and large, the horde was centered around the familial groups.

They appeared to be carrying all of their worldly possessions on their backs. The males all supported large bundles—personal goods and loot from earlier conquests—while the females carried children and smaller bundles. There didn't seem to be any groups of 'slaves,' nor did they use many beasts of burden. There were pack civan scattered through the group, and turom, but they were few and far between.

The reconnaissance team wore not only their hard-used chameleon suits, but also an ancient invention called a gill suit. The genesis of the gill suit was lost in the mists of time, but in its simplest form—which these were—it was a net tied through with strips of cloth. The local cloth used for sacks had turned out to have all the properties the humans were looking for; the strips broke up the human outline, making it almost invisible in any sort of cover. The projectors of the combat armor did the same thing, but the recon team didn't have armor . . . and gill suits didn't require batteries.

* * *

Captain Pahner nodded to Roger as the prince slid into position beside him. Roger had taken time to slip back to his room and change clothes, replacing his ruined saffron outfit with a black one, and Pahner hoped the color wasn't an omen.

'We have another problem,' the CO whispered.