Vengeance (29 page)

The next attack was by a smaller force, Nzgali only, the regular soldiers confined to the perimeter. They came in armoured cars, charging through the gates on three sides of the compound.

“Can we play with the big guns now?” Wall asked.

“Yes, keep the pods down,” Price said. “They’re waiting for them.”

Teams with rocket launchers were creeping in behind the armoured cars, trying to identify the sites of the pop-up machine guns.

“Hit the vehicles as soon as they’re within range,” Price said.

“No, wait,” Wall said. “Those cars are heavily armoured. But when they reach the building the sides will drop to become ramps for the assault troops.”

“Okay, wait for the ramps,” Price said.

She armed her first Bofors gun, and somewhere in a dusty garret, a heavy metal screen drew back and the long snout of the automatic cannon protruded.

Six of the armoured cars skidded to a halt at the building’s main entrance. The sides dropped and suddenly Nzgali were everywhere.

“Now!” Price shouted and the
crack
,
crack
,
crack
of the huge guns filled the air, shaking the walls of the safe room.

The results were devastating.

Even if the armoured walls had been up, Price doubted they could have withstood the volume of fire that encased each of the armoured cars. With the walls down, the vehicles disappeared in a teeth-shaking series of explosions and balls of flame as their fuel tanks ignited.

“Pods!” Price shouted. “And turn the Bofors on the rocket teams.”

The Nzgali, thrown to the ground by the force of the explosions, were just starting to pick themselves up when the machine guns started. Even the finest troops of the Bzadian army could not cope with the smoke, the firing of the guns, the shock and disorganisation. They broke and ran for their lives. Those on the ground stayed there.

Price saw a rocket team lining up on one of the pods and switched to her second Bofors, which had a clearer angle at them. She aimed just in front of the team and hit the firing button. Dirt and lawn erupted, scattering the soldiers like tenpins.

Another team, another burst from the Bofors, and the rocket teams were in full retreat also.

“Run like the wind, mother-shippers!” Wall yelled, standing and punching the air.

“Next time it will be tanks,” Barnard said.

“Not as long as they think Azoh is in here,” Price said. “And Azoh-zu as well.”

She glanced around. “Where the hell is Azoh-zu?”

The boy was no longer in his seat. In the middle of the excitement, perhaps scared by the gunfire, he had disappeared back into the tunnel.

“Dammit,” Price cried. But there was nothing she could do about that now. She readied herself for the next assault.

“Azoh!” Dequorz cried. “They just took out our last Dragon!”

Eighteen Razers and seven Dragons had already been destroyed without the loss of any of the intruders.

“Pull back the remaining fighters,” Kriz said. “Get them out of there!”

“And leave the capital defenceless?” Dequorz asked, horrified.

“We are defenceless already against these new jets,” Kriz said. “It is suicide sending in more planes. Wait for the reinforcements to arrive from Amberley, then attack en masse. Their planes are small; they must have a limited supply of missiles.”

Kriz looked up at the giant screen that was their video link to the council chamber. A heated debate was underway.

“Report from the communications centre,” Dequorz said. “The tanks are in position and awaiting orders to move in.”

“Hold them there,” Kriz said, still staring at the video screen.

Field Marshall Leozii was standing in the centre of the chamber. “Human warplanes fly with impunity over our heads, while our mighty Dragons fall from the sky,” he was saying. “We can no longer defend the capital. In fact we can no longer guarantee to defend any Bzadian city or base. We have nothing to match these new jets. This war is now lost, unless we take action.”

“We came to this planet to make a home for our people,” a councillor said. “Not to destroy its inhabitants.”

“Yet the natives will wipe us out, if we don’t take direct action,” Leozii said. “We came offering friendship and new technologies. They spurned us, tried to quarantine us, and now they try to kill us.”

Another councillor spoke up, a female, completely bald, the oldest of all the councillors. “Leozii is right. For all our best intentions, it has come down to us or them. There is no room for both species on this planet.”

Kriz’s radio buzzed with an urgent message. She answered without taking her eyes off the screen. It was Jazki.

“Azoh is no longer at the communications centre,” the young captain said.

“You are sure?” Kriz asked.

“I have a flybot following her, with two of the infiltrators, along a tunnel that leads away from the building,” Jazki said.

“What about Azoh-zu?” Kriz asked.

“There is no sign of him,” Jazki said. “No, wait! He just passed through the tunnel in front of us.”

“I will be right there,” Kriz said.

She turned back to Dequorz. “The tanks can commence their assault. Azoh and Azoh-zu are no longer in the building. I have to get back to the tunnel. Inform me of any developments.”

Dequorz nodded.

As Kriz left, she glanced again at the video link to the High Council chamber. A vote was being held: whether or not to use the positronium weapons. She did not wait to see the result.

Once they passed the vote – and it would pass –the last human territories would be only a few minutes from total annihilation.

“Tanks moving up on the south side,” Wall yelled. “Time we were Oscar Mike.”

“They won’t fire,” Price said. “They still think Azoh is in here.”

Almost immediately the sound of the tank’s main gun, resounding distantly through the walls of the room, proved her wrong. On the video screen there was a flash from the tank’s muzzle then the image disappeared into grainy static.

The whole building shook and all the lights flickered. The video screens went blank for a few seconds before recovering.

“What the hell?” Wall shouted. He touched his firing button and on the remaining screens they saw the tank light up like a Christmas tree as the forty-millimetre shells exploded uselessly on its spinning hull. The tank’s gun traversed and lifted then fired. There was an explosion somewhere overhead and the
boom
-
boom
-
boom
of the Bofors stopped.

“Leave it,” Price shouted. “We are out of here!” She followed the others, running for the tunnel entrance. Monster swung the heavy door back into place behind them.

“What now?” Wall asked.

“I don’t know,” Price admitted. “Try to link up with the others.”

“How are we going to do that without radio contact?” Wall asked.

Barnard had already reached the base of the stairs. She stopped running, skidding to a halt on a loose patch of stones. The beam of her helmet flashlight lurched around the walls as she regained her balance.

The others stopped too, looking back at her.

“No radios,” she said.

“We’ll figure something out,” Price said. “The radios can’t work through solid rock. I …”

She trailed off, looking at Barnard who was staring back at her, open mouthed.

“What is it?” Price asked.

“I am so stupid,” Barnard said.

“What are you talking about?” Price asked.

“No radio contact. How are they going to detonate the positronium bombs?”

“I don’t know,” Price said.

“They can’t set them off by radio,” Barnard said. “They are too far away for that. Even Chukchi is out of radio range. They don’t have satellites. So how are they going to detonate the bombs from here?”

“Maybe the Fezerkers set them off. Suicide bombers,” Wall said.

“I thought they caught all the Fezerkers,” Price said.

“Maybe there are more,” Wall said.

“Even if that’s true, they’d still need to contact the Fezerkers,” Barnard said.

“So how do they set off the bombs?” Price asked.

“I can only think of one way,” Barnard said. “We have to get back to the embassy, now!”

[1110 HOURS LOCAL TIME]

[OLD PARLIAMENT HOUSE, CANBERRA]

Nokz’z looked again to the ceiling as another series of explosions rocked the world above. The ceiling shook and dust filtered down between the cracks, but the explosions were too distant to do any damage. So far. He did not feel in direct danger. They were in the basement, a safe enough place unless the humans directly targeted the building. And what interest would they have in blowing up a load of dusty old relics?

A sound drew his eyes back to the wall, and a section that looked solid suddenly shifted. What had been an almost invisible seam grew darker and larger, as though a pencil line had been overdrawn with a thick black pen. Without speaking, Nokz’z and his Vaza moved to that wall, flattening themselves against it. The hidden doorway opened further and a head came through, taking a quick glance around, checking out the room but not seeing the two shapes, hidden by the half-open door.

The door opened further and a combat-suited figure stepped through, a female, followed by a male in the uniform of a Bzadian general, both Angels for sure. Then came the flowing blue robes of Azoh. She did not appear to be resisting her abductors.

Moving as one, Nokz’z and his Vaza stepped up behind the two Angels and kicked simultaneously at the back of their knees. Both Angels went down, face first on the ground, arms flailing, and before they could hit the release buttons for their coil-guns, or grab at their side-arms, Nokz’z and the Vaza were standing over them, weapons pressed against the backs of their necks.

“Unclip your weapons,” Nokz’z said.

The Angel in combat armour complied, reaching up over her back to disconnect her coil-gun. The one in the general’s uniform took out his side-arm. The Vaza kicked the weapons out of reach.

“Stay facedown,” Nokz’z said, as one of the Angels made to roll over.

Azoh stood quietly to one side, apparently neither concerned nor pleased by what had just happened.

“Colonel Nokz’z,” Azoh said.

“Azoh,” Nokz’z said, lowering his eyes and bowing his head to hide an expression of exuberance.

Against all odds, on the verge of defeat, he, Nokz’z, had done it. He had rescued Azoh from the clutches of the enemy. He had saved her. He would be a living hero for all Bzadians. Senior command would have no choice but to reinstate him. He was redeemed.

And then, he was not.

“Release these soldiers,” Azoh said. “And help us get to the High Council. It is extremely urgent.”

“Azoh, they are dangerous enemy agents,” Nokz’z said. “You are safe now. I will escort you to the council chamber, while my Vaza deals with your captors.”

“These are not my captors,” Azoh said.

“Surely–” Nokz’z started.

“They are working with me to stop a terrible mistake,” Azoh said.

“A mistake, Azoh?” Nokz’z asked. His headache was coming back in nausea-inducing waves.

“The High Council is about to authorise the destruction of the human territories,” Azoh said. “It must be stopped. I believe we can negotiate a peaceful end to this war.”

One of the Angels spoke, lifting his face off the floor. “Colonel Nokz’z, we can stop this war right now, and end the killing and the suffering.”

It was the one called Chizna. Nokz’z smiled briefly to conceal a sudden flame of anger.
Azoh was working with Chizna?

“Colonel Nokz’z, these humans will not harm me or you,” Azoh said. “Please lower your weapons and escort us quickly to the Congress.”

“You believe we can end this war?” Nokz’z asked. “And negotiate for peace?”

“I know this to be true,” Azoh said.

“Azoh, your wisdom is beyond question, but these are humans,” Nokz’z said. “A violent, savage sub-species. One step from wild animals. They cannot be trusted.”

“And yet we must trust them, if we are to live together peacefully on this planet.”

“Live together peacefully,” Nokz’z repeated the words.

“Yes.”