The Terran Mandate (28 page)

Final Shot

Dekker looked away from the Paladin's
crippled Cat and watched the other three continue their retreat as the Second
Brigade converged on the Pyramid. He couldn't wait any longer.

He stood up and yelled at the Marines
standing guard next to the carriers, "Get over here!"

As the rest scrambled to join Dekker,
one of the Marines standing on top of the command carrier smacked his head and
pulled his knife from its sheath. He placed the flat of the blade between the
antenna post and the flange of the swivel that wouldn't latch. He nodded and
the other two eased back from the post. It swayed back, but stopped and then
held fast. Satisfied it would hold, they climbed down from the top of the
carrier and ran to join the rest as they assembled in front of Dekker.

Jommy peeked out from behind the
carrier.  The hem of the utility battle dress trousers he had borrowed were
folded up past his knee with the fold bloused around his ankle by an elastic
band. A field utility blouse hung on him like a tent, the bottom hem hanging
down by his knees with the sleeves cut just above his elbow. He and Shahn'Dra
stepped out from behind the carrier and walked up to stand at the end of the
line.

Dekker stood up and faced them. He caught
Jommy's eyes. The boy's face, already aged by the years spent at his father's
side tending their fields under the Shoahn' sun, had aged even more since
Dekker had seen him in his shelter just days before.  Dekker wanted to tell him
to go back inside, but the boy's eyes told him that he would not have listened.
He looked away and set his gaze on a point in the distance somewhere beyond the
men standing in front of him.

"Honor that man," he said.
"Present - " He waited for each Marine to unsling his rifle and line
it up next to his right leg, holding the sites between his thumb and
forefinger. "Hut." In one motion, they hoisted their rifles up and
held them in front of their faces to point at the sky.

Dekker turned around and stared down at
Walker's crippled Cat. He unlatched the STI grip from his belt and held it out
with both hands.

Through his headset, Lt. Simmons
reported, "Shot ready sir. Five seconds." Dekker watched the second
hand on his watch sweep the time away and then squeezed the trigger.

In the carrier behind him, Simmons
pressed the transmit button to relay the release signal from the STI grip to
the satellite they could only hope was in position to receive the signal.

Dekker tapped his headset and said,
"Two Bravo Delta, Enforcer Six Actual. Shot. Out."

A hundred miles above, a lone satellite
floated through the silence of the space just beyond the outer atmosphere of
Shoahn'Tu. Constructed on the orbital factories of the Exodus fleet and hauled
across the cosmos to be placed in orbit around Shoahn'Tu, it had sailed quietly
for years, waiting for an instruction to fulfill its mission one last time.

The covers protecting its mirrors opened
up like the petals of a flower.

Inside a service compartment, Tank
valves opened to fill concentric combustion chambers with a mixture of gasses.
The valves shut off as the onboard computer measured the mixtures and timed the
ignition of arc coils to ignite them. More valves were opened to pass the
explosion through a set of nozzles which were controlled by the computer to
optimize the flow rate and control the temperature drop as the heated gasses
flowed from each chamber and past a series of finely polished mirrors.

For the smallest instant of time, the
gasses released their energy states to produce just a flicker of high powered
light that shot down through the sky in a flurry of focused rays forming a
precise shotgun pattern that blanketed the ground below.

In less than the blink of an eye, the
shot was complete and the satellite vented the spent gasses through concentric
venting portals to minimize their affect on its orbit. It closed the covers,
not knowing that it had spent the last of its fuel to conduct the last STI shot
the Shoahn' sky would ever see.

It would be years before its nuclear
power system would finally die out and let the systems on board finally sleep,
never knowing that they had been built a lifetime before to come to the world
of the Shoahn' and forever change the course of - nothing.

Cover Fire

Dekker waited for something - anything -
to happen. "Did it fire?" He saw a flash from the corner of his eye
and yanked up his field glasses to scan the area around the Pyramid. The three
Cats were still walking back as the Terran Guard carriers lined up in front of
the Pyramid to establish what looked like a hasty defense. Dekker furrowed his
brow as he swept his gaze past the tanks that continued to roll towards the
Paladin, pummeling the frame of his Cat with steel slugs. They were close
enough to their target that the frame jolted back and forth, like somebody
being riddled with bullets but refusing to bleed and fall down. 500 meters
away, he saw Godfrey and Shoahn'Fal standing next to her command carrier.
Another pulled up next to it, but nobody disembarked. Still sweeping around to
his right, he saw it - a column of dust a kilometer wide boiling into the sky.
Just below it, the ground sizzled with an orange haze that dipped down into a
shallow crater whose edges looked like they had been etched into the ground by
a blow torch. If the shot had come a half hour earlier, it would have caught
the bulk of the Second Brigade when they first started their attack. Instead,
it had trampled a swatch of brush, dirt and rocks into oblivion.

Dekker deflated and let down his field
glasses. "Simmons, get out here."

When he heard her footsteps shuffling up
behind him, he reached out to hand his field glasses to her without looking.
She took them from his hand and looked at the smoking ruins of the crater.
Through clenched teeth, he asked, "What the hell happened?"

Simmons let the glasses drop to the
ground. "Oh God."

He turned and glared at her.
"What?"

"Declination," she said.

Dekker closed his eyes and let out every
breath of air in his lungs through his nose as the realization slammed home. He
pinched the brow of his nose and said, "The poles shifted two days
ago."

"That's right. Preston used a
magnetic bearing to align the inclination burn."

"And nobody thought to update the
system in the com center."

"We wouldn't have had time
anyway," she said. "It's not his fault."

"I know."

"We're not done yet, sir,"
Simmons said, pointing at Godfrey's carriers. Dekker opened his eyes to see
Godfrey and Shoahn'Fal ducking into the command carrier and then head for the
Paladin with the other one falling in on their flank.

Shahn'Dra stepped up next to them and
said, "He yearns for the Scrolls."

The ladder on Walker's Cat extended
itself and jammed into the ground. As he climbed out of the cockpit with the
case in his hand and started down the ladder, Dekker snapped his fingers.
"Alright, set up a firing line right here. Cover the Major's
retreat."

The Marines looked at each other and
then blinked at him. "Move!" he yelled. The Marines looked at each
other again and then moved up to the crest of the ridge and lay down in a line
with their R-51 rifles pointed at the Paladin's Cat.

Simmons climbed on top of her carrier.
She unlatched the machine gun mounted in the cupola and called over one of her
Marines. "Corporal, set up the Ma Deuce right in the center there as our
base of fire." She grunted and pulled the weapon free. Cradling it in both
arms, she lowered it to the corporal and then hopped off the carrier while he
lugged the weapon to the crest of the ridge.

She unslung her rifle and lay prone next
to Dekker.

"What do you make the range to be, Lieutenant?"
one of them asked.

"She peered down the site of her
barrel and twisted a windage knob to raise the rear site. "I'd say about
200 meters."

"This is where you recon boys get
to show the rest of us how it's done," Dekker said. "Jommy, go to the
track and get my plasma rifle."

Jommy waved a salute and said,
"yessir", then scrambled back to the carrier.

"And bring me the belt with the
square black boxes in it." Dekker picked up his field glasses and brushed
off the dirt. He put the strap over his neck and let them hang as he watched
Godfrey's carriers rumble towards Walker's wounded Cat.

Hearing the sound of something scraping
along the ground behind him, Dekker turned around to see Jommy dragging the
plasma rifle with both hands while the cartridge belt flopped around his neck
like a dead animal.

Dekker took the weapon, extended its
bipod and set it on the ground next to Simmons. He crouched down in front of
Jommy and said, "Now, I want you to get inside the track and stay there
until I tell you it's alright to come out. Understand?"

"Yes sir." Looking dejected,
the boy turned around and traipsed back to the carrier. He opened the passenger
door and clambered inside. After closing the door behind him, he turned his
face to the window embedded in its thick steel frame and peered back at Dekker.

He didn't want Jommy to see what was
going to happen, but he knew he couldn't make the boy look away. He nodded and
smiled, then jutted his finger at the boy, reminding him to stay put. Jommy
nodded:
I'll be a good boy.

Dekker turned around and felt the smile
drain from his face as he watched the carriers continue their approach towards
Walker. "They're kind of moving slow, aren't they?"

"That's because they're waiting to
make sure the rest are in position to keep him cut off," Simmons said. She
pointed at the tanks streaking across the desert floor to join up with the
carriers assembled in front of the Pyramid.

"Alright. Lieutenant, when I give
the word, light up those two tracks with the Ma Deuce. The rest of you wait
until they dismount and then pin those bastards to the ground."

He tapped his headset. "Two Bravo
Delta. Major, can you hear me?" Walker was at the bottom of the ladder and
didn't react as he turned to start running.

"I don't think he can hear us.
Let's help him out." He flopped down next to his plasma rifle, unsnapped
the flap to one of the cartridge pouches and smacked a cartridge into the
action of his rifle. He shouldered the weapon and trained the sites on the
carriers. "Alright, Lieutenant, light 'em up."

Simmons smacked the feed tray cover of
her M2, making sure it was latched over the ammunition belt and thumbed the
paddle trigger. The clanking burst of three rounds filled the air as smoke
blasted from the barrel and its volley of bullets slammed against the lead
carrier. Satisfied she had the range; she pummeled the carrier with a
five-round burst, paused for a moment, and hit it again.

Sparks chipped off the side of the
carrier as it started to swerve in reaction to the bullets raking along its
side. The vehicle sped up and then slowed down, turning one direction and then
the next. Simmons tracked the vehicle, adjusted her aim and fired again.

A patchwork of shredded metal formed
along the side of the vehicle as the bullets ripped into it and compelled its
occupants to do something besides sit inside in what was quickly becoming a
moving coffin.

The vehicle slid to a stop and the rear
hatch flopped open. Terran Guards scampered out and formed a circle around the
vehicle with the barrels of their rail guns pointing out as they searched for
their tormentors.

The rest of the Marines in Dekker's
firing line opened up with the piercing blast of their R-51 long barrel rifles.
Two Terran Guards floundered and then pitched over as his Marines found the
range and homed in on their targets. The ground just in front of the crest of
the ridge erupted with puffs of dirt and debris as the Terran Guard returned
fire.

Crouching underneath his Cat, Walker
yanked his head around to look at Dekker and then started to run up the slope
towards their position. The second carrier turned hard, digging its wheels into
the ground as it veered towards him and lunged forward to chase him down.

Simmons swung her weapon to track the
second carrier and opened fire with a long burst. Sparks splattered the front
of the vehicle as she walked the line of bullets into the windshield. The .50
caliber rounds from her M2 ripped ragged holes in the transparent plastic that
could stop most bullets. Blood splashed against the plastic from the inside and
the driver slammed back against his seat. The wheels yanked hard and the
carrier skidded across the ground and flopped over on its side.

Troops emerged from the rear and knelt
down in a loose formation, pointing their rifles at Dekker's line. One of them
pointed at the Paladin and then yelled something. Dekker couldn't hear the
voice, but he knew what it was saying.

"Focus your fire on the second
group," he called out over the blaring clatter of rifle and machine gun
fire. "I want fire superiority, people."

The ground erupted around Walker's feet
as he ran up the slope. Dekker's Marines reset their aim and opened up on the
troops from the second group. More rounds kicked into the ground at Walker's
feet as  he zigzagged his way up the hill. Dekker's firing line zeroed in on
the new targets and one of the Terran Guard troops flung his weapon into the
air as a round landed squarely in his chest.

Dekker pulled the bolt back on his
plasma rifle and laid his cheek against the stock, peering down the site. He
squeezed the trigger and jerked back as the weapon kicked out a plasma
canister. The round landed at the feet of one of the troops and threw up a
flash of blue flame. The soldier raised his hands to protect himself as the
flame rose up and seared his face. The flame vanished and the soldier, now
smoking from the plasma burn, fell face forward into the dirt.

"That's it, Marines. Keep it
up."

As Walker clambered up the slope and
Dekker lashed out with another plasma round, none of them noticed the two
troops from the first group when they hauled out a black tube from the rear of
their vehicle. They set it on the ground and unfolded support struts with base
plates.

Rounds from the second group stitched
their way up the slope, chasing after Walker as he dodged back and forth, the
case still in his hand.

Then, he tripped and fell as one of the
rounds found his boot. Dekker heard the grunt a moment later and yelled,
"Stay down!  We have you covered. Just hang on."

Walker flopped the case in front of him
and crawled after it, dragging his injured foot through the dirt as he clawed
his way towards Dekker.

Through his sites, Dekker saw the effect
of his Marines and the superior accuracy of their weapons as more troops from
the second group went down. What he hadn't seen was the soldier from the first
group dropping a round into his mortar tube. Dekker pulled back the bolt of his
plasma rifle, set his aim and squeezed the trigger.

Just as the canister left the barrel, he
heard a thump next to him, then the snapping ring of the mortar round ejecting
its casing. A buzz gnawed at his ear just before he felt the bite of shrapnel
ripple along the side of his body.

His vision blurred and he tried to
breathe, but he couldn't get air into his lungs. His gut tightened in a burning
ache as he looked towards Major Walker. The Paladin was up on one knee and
about to stand up when his body started to thrash and he dropped the case.
Blood and bone erupted from his chest as the rounds shot through him from behind.
His arms dropped to his side and he toppled over on his face one last time as
more rounds peppered the ground around him. The Old Scrolls rested on the
ground just beyond his fingertips.

A surge of pain rippled through Dekker's
body as he strained to hold on to consciousness long enough to realize that the
Paladin was not moving. He closed his eyes and heard himself whimper.

Then the world went dark.