March To The Stars

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Macek spat over the edge of the ridge and shook his head.

'You look into the abyss, and the abyss looks back,' he muttered.

'Less philosophy, more climb,' Gronningen growled back from where he'd paused on a wide spot at the base of the second peak.

The squad was strung out along a knife-edged ridge, the top of the saddle between two mountains. The 'flat' surface was no more than a meter wide, with sheer drops on both sides. And the assault team would have to cross a nearly vertical shoulder of the second peak to get into position above the citadel.

'There was a shelf,' Julian said, puffing slightly. The ridge was nearly five thousand meters above Mardukan sea level, which meant that even with the slightly thicker atmosphere, oxygen was in short supply. More than that, Julian had let Gronningen set the pace, knowing the indomitable Asgardian would push them to the limits ... and he had. 'About another hundred meters up and to the northwest,' the NCO added with another pant.

'I think I see it,' Gronningen agreed. He dialed up the zoom on his helmet and studied the terrain feature. 'Narrow,' he opined, then removed his helmet and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. The night had gotten downright cool, and there was a strong wind blowing up from the valley, but the pace had everyone sweating as if they were still in Marduk's jungles. 'Really narrow.'

'Best His Nibs could spot before sundown,' Julian replied, checking his toot for the time. 'Four more hours until we need to be on the walls.'

'We can make that easily,' Gronningen said, replacing his helmet and picking up his pack. 'If we keep going, that is.'

'Lead on, Mule,' Julian said. 'Onward and upward.'

* * *

Julian leaned out from the narrow ledge and sent a laser sweep across the top of the fortress far below.

'Two thousand meters.'

'Right at The Book's outside drop limit,' Macek said with a dubious headshake. 'Long way to fall.'

'It is that,' Julian agreed unhappily.

The ledge was, indeed, narrow—a thin shelf of slightly harder granite intruded into the surrounding matrix. Some latter-day earth movement had shifted and folded the mountain, thrusting the horizontal dike outwards, exposing it to erosion. Over time, the remnants had become a half-meter wide section of granite, suspended over a two thousand-meter drop.

'It's the only choice we have, though,' the squad leader added. 'I want everyone to spread out. It looks like we're right over the inner battlements. Watch your distribution, and for God's sake, don't get entangled—this damned spider-wire'll slit you in half if you give it a chance.'

'Yeah, but it works,' Gronningen said as he surreptitiously attached a clip to the sergeant's descent harness. The combination of his voice and the night wind concealed the tiny sound it made as it clicked home ... and then he pushed Julian off the cliff.

There wasn't a thing Julian could do—the blow to his back was too unexpected. He was thrown well out from the cliff, and found himself almost automatically shifting into a delta-track, a sky-diving position for maneuvering. His brain ran frantically through a list of ways to survive the drop, but nothing came to mind, nor could he understand why one of his best friends had just succeeded in killing him.

* * *

Macek spun in place, his bead rifle level, but Gronningen held up one hand with a screaming spider reel in it. It was obvious that the other end of the wire was attached to Julian.

'What the pock are you doing, Gron?' the corporal snarled. 'You've got about two seconds to explain!'

'Just this,' Gronningen said, with a rare smile. He attached the reel to the wall with a mag-clamp and laid on the tension. 'I mean, now we know it works, right?'

* * *

Julian gazed down at the battlements, a hundred meters below him. He'd been observing them fairly carefully for the last several minutes, since the spider-line had slowed him to a halt. There wasn't much else he could do; the line had him suspended almost head-down.

He heard a faint rattle of rock, and then Gronningen appeared next to him, fully inverted.

'Gronningen, what are you dicking around at?' Julian asked with deadly menace.

' 'I love you, too, man,' ' the Asgardian quoted. 'You remember in Voitan, I said 'You gonna pay'?'

'Oh, you son-of-a—'

'Ah-ah!' The Asgardian grinned. 'I pull this clamp, and it's really gonna smart when you hit the top of that thing.'

'Oh, you son-of-a ...' Julian stopped and sighed. 'Okay. You got me. Jesus, did you get me. I promise, no more jokes. Just ... don't do something like that again, okay?'

'You should have seen Geno,' Gronningen said with another grin, as he handed a fresh spider-spool across to the squad leader. 'I think he nearly burst a blood vessel.'

'Well, I'm proof positive that you don't die of fright on the way down,' Julian said. 'Jesus. This isn't a truce, though. I'm gonna get you. Just you wait.'

'I tingle with anticipation,' the Asgardian told him with a chuckle. 'You got a good grip on that reel?'

'Yeah. Why?'

'Good,' Gronningen said, and flicked off the clamp that was holding the sergeant suspended.

Julian tried not to scream as he dropped into empty air again.

* * *

Macek looked around the top of the battlements with an expression of disbelief. Except for the eternal sighing of the wind, there wasn't a sound to be heard, and there was no one in sight.

'Okay, I'll bite,' he whispered. 'Where's the guards?'

'I don't know,' Julian said. 'Not here.'

The top of the gatehouse was about thirty meters across, with a trap door at either end. The gate filled the pass from side to side. On the southeast side, a narrower walkway led to the top of the secondary keep, apparently a barracks or headquarters. Gronningen walked back from there, shaking his head, while Macek grimaced.

'Don't tell me they don't post sentries,' he said. 'That's ... insane.'

'It's freezing,' Julian pointed out. 'I mean, it's only about ten degrees out here. If they were out in this, they'd be catatonic, maybe dead.'

Gronningen consulted his toot, then nodded with a remote expression.

'Fifty or so, Fahrenheit, yes?' he said. 'Not cold, but brisk.'

'More than just brisk for scummies, man,' Julian said.

'So they just don't guard at all?' Macek asked. 'Still not too smart.'

'They're used to fighting Shin,' the squad leader replied, 'and I don't think they can move in this, either. Look at the Vashin. They're all huddled around fires being torpid. This kind of cold can kill Mardukans.'

'So they're all inside waiting to hit us on the heads as soon as we stick 'em in there?' Macek asked. 'It's a clever plot to lure us to our deaths?'

'No, that was the recruiter who got us to join the Marines,' Gronningen said. He walked over to the nearer trap door and pulled at the handle. The door was outsized, designed for Mardukans, and Gronningen was probably the only man in the company who could have lifted it. It didn't even quiver, though, and he knelt down to examine it more closely. Light seeped up around the edges, and he grunted as he found the darker shadow where a latching bar cut across the light.

'Not a problem,' Julian said, kneeling beside him. The sergeant slipped a device from his belt and slid the incredibly sharp, flexible ribbon-blade into the crack. It sliced through the half-meter ironwood bar as if it hadn't even been there.