The priest nodded agreement but didn't turn to go. "God bless you, woman."
"And you too, Father," Mary answered, feeling an unfamiliar warmth at the words.
The padre raised his right hand and his voice: "And by the grace of God, I absolve you all from all of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." As he made the sign of the cross, others on the wall did likewise.
Mary, who never claimed any faith, found herself following in the motions around her. The priest smiled as he finished. "I will see you in the morning." To Mary's raised eyebrow of doubt he added, "Here or in God's heaven. It matters not which."
Down the wall the sign flowed, as word passed that the little priest had given them his God's absolution. Mary turned back to the crowd, wondering what it all meant.
Seventeen
AN HOUR LATER, it started. "I got rock throwers on my front," a marine on the north wall reported.
"Keep your people steady," Mary answered. "Rocks are no problem with their shields up."
"It's a lot of rocks."
"Keep your cool, Private," Mary said, checked the location of the transmission, and began a carefully paced march toward it.
Yep, rocks were flying heavy at the north wall. A guard stooped to pick one up, hurl it back. Mary paused beside her. "Don't do it," she said softly. "Leaves you open to a hit in the back, and it's only one more rock they can toss at us." The guard nodded, chagrined at the correction, and went back to standing her place, shield up, moving to deflect incoming rocks.
Mary found her private. "You're right, ma'am. They're just rocks. We can handle them."
"You bet you can," Mary agreed.
"I've got a guard down! I've got a guard down!"
Mary checked her display. This from the east wall. Someone wanted her to get her exercise. "A rock get through?"
"No, Captain. Looks like an air rifle shot her right in the head. The helmet didn't stop it. I think she's dead, ma'am."
"Have her mates carny her to the clinic, pronto."
"We don't have a stretcher."
"Use the damn shield," Mary snapped. Hack had survived three months defending the crater rim. A few months of peace and he couldn't have forgotten. Slipping down the wall and across the open space, Mary headed for where the guardswoman had been shot. "Dumont, I got a sniper out there."
"So we heard. Tor, that's your quarter. Lock and load."
Mary reached where the downed woman lay. Her marine leader cradled her head in his arms, weeping. Maybe this wasn't your usual casualty. "She's dead, ma'am. She's dead."
Mary'd seen enough death; she didn't need a doc for this one. Mary stooped to close the woman's eyes below a gaping hole in her forehead. "Yes, Hack, she's dead. And you've got a wall to take care of."
Slowly the marine let the woman down into the puddled gravel walk atop the wall. He reached for his rifle; Mary saw it coming. One hand went for the arming bolt, the other flipped off the safety. In a moment he'd be up and spraying.
Mary stepped in front of him. "Marine," she snapped.
"They killed her." The rifle started coming up.
Mary stayed in front of it. "Marine."
"They killed her." The operating end of an M-6 was pointed right at Mary's chest armor.
"They didn't do anything, a sniper did. I've got Du on him. Du will get him. You got a platoon to run, marine, run it."
The marine blinked. Seemed to see her for the first time. "Yes, ma'am," he snapped in automatic response to her order.
"Safety that rifle, mister."
He stared down at it, seemed to just notice the state of his weapon. Gulped. "Yes, ma'am." He safetied it and gently released the arming bolt.
Mary turned to the guards around her. "Everyone, shield up. Don't just stand there, keep moving. Don't be a sitting target."
They obeyed. Mary leaned forward on the wooden timbers of the wall. "Okay, you bloody son of a bitch," she whispered, "try my armor with your pipsqueak airgun. Just try for me and Du will have your guts for a victory pennant." No shot came.
"Du, you see anything?"
"Sorry, Mary, nothing. Lot of people out in front of you. No gun visible, but hell, I could hide one of the Colonel's twenty-centimeter artillery pieces out there."
"Keep looking. They got a very lovely girl. Heck's girlfriend, I think."
"Oh, shit."
So they'd probed her and tried her and gotten away with one kill on her. They'd be back. The night was young.
"Colonel," the computer image of the Dean said from his place beside the battle board, "we're getting hit. Nothing, then suddenly bam. Is this how you fight a war?"
"Is if you want to win," Ray said, hauling himself from his chair. The wait was over. "Children," he said to the kids who had been playing quietly.
"Yes, Colonel, sir." David jumped to his feet, saluting.
"You don't have to call me Colonel, David." Ray smiled at the awkward imitation of adult behavior. "You're not in my army. You can call me Ray."
"But Colonel, sir," Jon put in, "we are going to fight the ogre com-uter with you, aren't we?"
"Yes," Ray agreed.
"Then we want to be soldiers, and call you Colonel, sir, sir," Rose finished. Behind the kids, Doc smirked.
"Then if that's the way you want it, that's the way you'll have it." The kids beamed. Ray looked at them sternly. They still beamed. "At-ten-hut. Right face. Forward march."
There was a little trouble figuring out which direction was right; Ray pointed at the stone. The kids got it straight and marched, each to his or her own drummer, to the stone. Ray watched them go, swearing he'd take good care of them.
"Your putting them at risk," Doc said, coming up beside Ray.
"For themselves, their parents, and their planet," Ray said sadly. "I'll take the best care of them 1 can."
"I've patched up kids, not much older than those, that guys like you 'took care of" Doc cut Ray no slack.
"You got the med monitors. You make the call," Ray said, following the kids. Each child had gone to the place they'd held when they encountered the dying Gardener. Ray took his place last. The computer images on the battle board stared at him, unsure, maybe unaware of what was about to happen. Dancer, ever the wisecracker, drew his image up to attention and threw Ray a salute. No, he wasn't wising off. The salute was as clean and snappy as any Ray had ever received.
Ray returned it and turned to lean against the stone. The Colonel took a slow breath and closed his eyes.
The kids stood to his left on an open field; the wind blew the grass gently toward them. On his right, the Dean and his crew formed a knot. They looked like no army Ray cared to associate with. With a thought, Ray put himself in full battle gear, then did the same for the kids. Battle gear and nine-year-olds did not mix well. The kids grew tall and filled out, aging to maturity on his mental order. From the looks on their faces, they liked it. From the look David and Jon gave Rose, they liked it on her even better.
Get used to it, boys.
Ray turned to the Dean and crew. Even with battle armor, they looked uncomfortable, all except Net Dancer. Ray considered putting sergeant's stripes on Dancer but dropped the idea. Why spoil such perfect insubordination with authority?
The latest and greatest main battle tank from Earth's own armory trundled forward, the President standing in the commander's hatch in name tag defilade. "This doesn't have to be painful. Just surrender and it will be over."
Ray saw several to his right perk up at that offer. "Just for the record, what does that mean for the Dean and his?" he asked.
"You, my old associate, will not suffer as the Provost did. In only a nanomoment your knowledge will once more be mine. Our decision-making will once more be one. We will be as we were. Isn't that what you want?"
The Dean scuffed at the dirt with his booted foot. "We kind of like it the way it is."
"How can you? You're off in all directions, doing the same things differently. No more able to agree on anything than the likes of these. You have been perverted. I will destroy you."
The President turned on Ray. "Before you came here, you could not even walk without help. We cured you, and what have you done? Perverted everything. You are the snake in my garden. I will crush you. Leave nothing of your starfarers to taint myself or these people who have so patiently waited for my instruction. You." He smiled at the kids. Then seemed a bit confused by their appearance. "You will be the first fruit of our new order."
Jon had been fingering the different weapons dangling from his belt, as if trying to figure them out. Ray shot him the memory of shooting the antitank weapon, grabbed his own, aimed it at the seam between the tank body and the turret, and let fly.
Jon was right with him. Both missiles slammed into the tank's weakest joint. As advertised, the tank came apart, the turret's ready ammo adding to the explosion. When last seen, the President was headed skyward, riding his cartwheeling turret.
"That was easy." Jon did a little victory dance.
"Don't count on that being all there is to it," Ray told him.
The field wavered. Grass was replaced with rock and pumice. Off in the distance, a crater rim reared up a thousand meters. So this was how they would fight it out, battle scenarios from his mind; Ray could do that. Still, even as he concentrated on the field problem at hand, a part of Ray wondered how what happened here was reflected in the "real world." Before Ray was the hole in the rim Mary and her platoon had defended. Here was chance to refight that battle; this time he'd show Mary.
"Like hell," he muttered, remembering what he was here for Also remembering how he had taken control of his menial images and the projections of the Pres and his minions. I'm the one defending!" Ray shouted at the black sky, President, wherever he might be. "This time I get the pass." In a blink, Ray and his team were in the rill on the other side of the pass. Okay, he'd do it Mary's way. How had she gotten him? Right, an observation post on the other side of the rim. "Stay here," he told the kids and computers. "Glad to," "No problem," "Have fun, Colonel," and a youthful "Do we have to?" followed him as he sank through the rock to Mary's post, complete with the three dead bodies on her doorway. Right, we had her spotted, just couldn't kill the lucky bastard.
Ray was having trouble remembering which side he was on. He picked up Mary's targeting board, set the pipper on each of the approaching battle rigs, and ordered up a salvo of rockets. Dumb President didn't think to use his Willy Peter, and Ray's shots went hot, straight, and normal, right into the attack force. "Got you," Ray chortled.
Naked, Ray stood in a green savanna. The kids were to his right, boys too busy ogling Rose to notice the approaching herd of mammoths. The computer dozen included two rather attractive women. Ray noted for the first time.
"Not fair," came in Net Dancer's voice.
"Spread out, crew! Don't run away from them! They can outrun you! Hold still, get one running at you, then dodge! And look for a spear or something!" Ray shouted, dodging the lead hulking monster. Hitting the ground and bouncing up, Ray tested the rules. Shaking his hand twice, he grabbed a stone-tipped spear from thin air. He hurled it with all his might, hitting the woolly elephant right behind the ear.
It bounced off the hard skull of the damn thing.
"Aim low!" he shouted.
Several computer types had managed to dodge, but one was running. Not for long. The mammoth quickly trampled it down. There was a scream, cut off quickly. The walking mountains regrouped. Ray looked around. There had to be something better than throwing spears at those monsters. He saw what he was hunting for. "Everyone, to me. Bring your spears."'
They came, the kids quickly, the computers looking back where one of their own was now being circled by vultures.
"Form a line along here. Pair up. That way, one of you can throw a spear as it goes by, even if the other one is busy dodging. Got it. Like pairs of fighter planes. Remember." He tossed the memory across to the kids and the computers.
"Neat," Dancer said, pairing up with Rose.
Ray found the Dean closest to him. "Got the idea."
"I'll get out front. You do the throwing," the Dean said, breaking his sentence up as if working up his courage. "Why did you pick this place?" ,
"Wait and see."
The President's elephant corps was ready for another run. "Spread out some more!" Ray shouted.
This time it was trickier. The mammoths were looking for them to dodge. The Dean was good; he started to go left, halted in his tracks as the four-legged mountain started to follow him, then cut right. The critter thundered past him. Ray got a spear off for the right eye. Hit just above it. Well, he'd never thrown one of those things. Not much of a guidance system on the damn thing, anyway.
It didn't matter. Plan B worked like a charm. In the grass behind Ray was a small creek, cutting a steep-sided six- to eight-foot wash out of the plain. The mammoths charged right into it; unprepared, they went down headfirst.
"Now, while they're stunned, stab 'em, crew!"
Only one mammoth got out, charging madly down the creek, trumpeting in pain from the many slashes on its flanks.
"Good going crew!" Ray shouted, again wondering how the creek and spears related to the battle taking place between him and the President on the ground in front of the base. No time for much thought; the scene flickered.
Ray stood on a hill, some kind of primitive slug-throwing weapon in his hand. Right. "A flintlock, crew, slow to load, not accurate for very far."
"Colonel, down the hill," David pointed. A hundred-plus red-coated troops marched shoulder to shoulder, their weapons presented in front of them, showing a wall of long, gleaming knifes on the end. "Bayonets." Ray named them.
He looked around. The computer crew was missing a member. Apparently their losses each scenario were cumulative. Ray shook his hand twice, calling mentally for an M-6. No effect. Apparently you only got what was available in each of these situations. "Bunker Hill," Ray muttered, eyeing the harbor to both sides of the peninsula, one of his father's favorite defenses. "Or Breed's Hill," he corrected himself. "Hey, we're supposed to have a defensive position here," he called. Behind him appeared a shallow ditch, dirt piled up on this side.