Vengeance (28 page)

Fine rock dust drifted in flat layers through the air of the tunnel but it did not bother Kriz. They all wore full face oxygen masks. The enemy had used a disabling spray in Azoh’s bunker and some kind of powder bullets in the art gallery. The Nzgali were not going to be caught like that again.

The soldiers attacked the concrete and stone rubble with pickaxes and shovels, manhandling large stones backwards, to be passed along a line of workers and spread out along the length of the remaining tunnel.

They worked furiously, but no one knew how far they would have to dig. The collapsed section might be just a metre or so and they could be nearly through it. Or the entire tunnel could have collapsed.

The Angels, with their captive, were holed up in the communications centre. In a secret room that no one knew existed, until now. A rescue mission was being planned. That was surely a big mistake. Assaulting the building would put the life of Azoh in grave danger.

Kriz had said as much to Field Marshall Leozii, and he had agreed with her. But the High Council had voted otherwise. A bunch of old politicians with no grasp of the realities of warfare. The kidnapping of Azoh was seen as slap in the face of all Bzadians and the Bzadian leaders had to be seen to take direct action.

Nokz’z’s plan had been a good one, in Kriz’s view. To enter the building the same way the Angels had, through the tunnel, coming up behind them in a surprise attack. But time was running out. So Kriz waited, and watched. She smiled thinly at one of the workers who quickly looked away and threw himself into the work, redoubled.

Jazki, a worthy but intense young captain, came hurrying back along the tunnel towards her. She was grimy and sweaty, helmetless. Her head was heavily bandaged from the earlier explosion and the bandages were black with rock dust. “Air movement at the top of the pile,” she reported. “We’re almost there.”

Kriz’s radio bleeped, an urgent code. She activated the microphone built into the oxygen mask. “I am Kriz.”

It was Dequorz in the command centre. “We need you back here now!” he said. “Coastal radar stations report enemy jets approaching at hypersonic speeds from the east. Defence forces have just gone to alert level black.”

“The same kind of aircraft as before?” Kriz asked.

“As far as we know,” Dequorz said. “We are scrambling all air defences in the vicinity.”

“I am on my way,” Kriz said and hung up. To Jazki she said, “Call me as soon as you are through.”

They reached the cross tunnel. An avalanche of rock and rubble had flowed across the passageway, leaving little room for them to climb through. Chisnall could hear the sounds of hammering and scraping from the other side. It sounded close. Even as he watched, a large stone fell from the top of the pile, bouncing and skidding down the uneven slope.

“Come on,” he said. “Hurry.”

He took Azoh’s hand and helped her climb, trying to avoid the jagged edges of the broken rock. They had to crawl over the last bit, squeezing below the low ceiling of the tunnel, then skidding down the other side.

He tried to reach Price on the com, but the rock of the tunnel blocked any chance of a signal. Once they reached the far side of the rubble, he did not look back and so he didn’t notice the small insect-like creature that emerged from the rock pile. It crawled on legs of thin wire through a small gap between the rocks. It turned one way, then the other. Sensing movement, filmy, translucent wings unfolded from its crystalline thorax and it hummed into the air.

The Vaza led the way, following a map that she had printed.

She hurried across the wooden floors of the old building to a stairway that led down to a basement.

The basement was vast and divided into a maze of rooms and corridors. Several times the Vaza stopped, studied her map again and backtracked where necessary.

“Here,” she said at last, arriving at a small, nondescript office.

“Where?” Nokz’z asked.

“That is not clear,” the Vaza replied. “But the tunnel emerges in this room.”

Nokz’z looked around. There were no obvious doors leading from the room. The floor was wooden, with no sign of trapdoors, or even a break where a tunnel could emerge.

“You are sure?” he asked.

The Vaza nodded.

“Then we wait,” Nokz’z said.

“You are sure that they will use this tunnel?” the Vaza asked.

“They cannot return to the Congress,” Nokz’z said. “The tunnel is blocked and crawling with our troops. The communications centre is surrounded. They must come here. They have nowhere else to go.”

He watched her closely for a moment.

“Vaza.”

“Yes, Colonel,” she said.

“Your fortunes are closely tied to mine,” he said.

“Of course,” she said.

“When I succeed, you succeed with me,” he said. “But when I fail, you must suffer because of me.”

She moved to him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“I do not want you to suffer,” Nokz’z said.

“I would have it no other way,” she said.

[1100 HOURS LOCAL TIME]

[OLD US EMBASSY, CANBERRA]

“ACOG are taking your request under advisement.” Bilal sounded worried and frustrated on the speaker.

“Request!” Barnard exploded. “It’s not a request. Don’t they understand that they are picking a fight they can’t possibly win?”

“Barnard’s right,” Price said. “It’s mass suicide.”

“I explained it in words of one syllable,” Bilal said. “They’re asking for proof, but frankly, the impression I got was that ACOG are so determined to show off their new military might, to teach the Bzadians a lesson and tear them a new asshole, that they won’t change their minds.”

“Proof?” Price said.

“They are looking for these bombs of yours,” Bilal said. “They’re interrogating all the captured Fezerkers. They are taking this seriously.”

“Not seriously enough,” Price said.

“I’ll keep trying,” Bilal said. “What’s your plan? What are you doing with Azoh?”

“Azoh seems to believe that if she addresses the High Council, she can convince them not to retaliate.” Price said. “Chisnall and Brogan are trying to get her there.”

“Do you trust her? Is she on our side?”

“She’s on nobody’s side,” Barnard said. “She’s Azoh.”

“Pukes moving up to the main gates,” Wall yelled.

“Gotta go,” Price said. She cut off the call. “Okay, kids, time we showed them our teeth and claws. Lock the gates and arm the weapons.”

“Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition,” Barnard said.

“What?” Price asked.

“Never mind,” Barnard said. “Here they come.”

The big screens showed the compound and its grounds from all angles. The gardens, once manicured, were now overgrown under the reign of the Bzadians: the tennis court, the swimming pool, emptied and disused.

The black-suited Nzgali and the grey uniformed regular soldiers were advancing steadily across the open ground, using what shelter they could find: trees, shrubs, fences. Some glided across the ground on T-boards.

“Let them keep coming,” Price said. “Let them think this is going to be easy. We’ll start with the machine guns and keep the Bofors as an ace up our sleeves.”

Still the tide of Bzadian soldiers flowed towards the old ambassador’s residence.

“Hold your fire,” Price murmured. “A little further.”

The first of the soldiers was almost at the doors when Price said, “Now!’”

The chatter of machine guns came about three seconds later. On the video screens they could see circular plugs of grass rise up out of the lawn, at first unnoticed by the Bzadian troops, then the stream of fire as the high velocity bullets squirted from the muzzles.

Soldiers fell. Some merely stunned, protected by their armour. Others injured.

As soon as the Bzadians identified the threat, it was gone. The pods melded seamlessly back into the grass, leaving just a drifting pall of smoke, a ghostly presence over the battlefield.

The alien soldiers scanned around desperately, seeking targets, trying to return fire. But there was nothing to fire at.

“Count to three,” Price said. “Now.”

Just as the soldiers began to restore some sort of order, a different set of guns emerged and the thunder began again.

There were clear signs of panic among the regular soldiers, but the Nzgali were too good for that. They were calm and controlled under fire. Price nearly lost a pod when a Nzgali grenade exploded on the ground just after she retracted the pod.

A third set of pods opened up and the troops retreated; unsure where the next attack would come from, they dragged their wounded and their unconscious, perhaps dead, comrades with them.

“Boo-yah!” Monster cried.

“They’ll be back,” Price said. “And it won’t be so easy next time.”

“Scream Leader to Scream Team, we got a lot of wildlife ahead of us,” Shaw said. They had just crossed the coastline and her radar scope was bright with targets. The air was uneven and the cockpit of her jet was jolting around like a car on an old dirt track. She glanced out at the wings, above and below the plane, and wondered exactly how much of this they could take. The scream jets had been developed in furious haste, without the usual time for testing and refining. If the wings were going to fail, now was when they would find out. And at mach 5, ejection was not an option.

“Scream Four to Scream Leader. I’m counting at least seven Dragons over Canberra.”

“Then make like St George,” Shaw said. “It’s nothing we can’t handle. On the first pass focus on the air cover. We’ve got Type Ones and Type Twos as well as those Dragons in the air and that means a lot of ordnance coming our way. Stay high, that will give the SAMs a longer ride. The Dragons are going to be our biggest problem. As soon as they fire, go vertical; their rockets will never catch us. Drop your countermeasures as you go and reverse-fire your air-to-air missiles. Once we’ve cleared the sky, we’ll come back for the SAM sites. We need to cut the spikes off this cactus before we go for the juicy bits. Are we clear?”

She got a chorus of assent from the other members of the team.

Ahead of them their long-range cameras showed a fiercely burning fire line less than a kilometre from the city. A grey pall of smoke covered almost all of the target area.

“Scream Two to Scream Leader, do you see those tanks on the thermal scope? Whole bunch of them at our ten. They appear to be heading towards the old US Embassy. Isn’t that where the Angels are?”

“Solid copy and confirming, Scream Two. That is the safety point for the Angels,” Shaw said.

“Do you want me to light ’em up?”
Scream Two asked.
“Give those Angel kids a helping hand?”

“Negative, Scream Two,” Shaw said. “It’s too dangerous while the Pukes still have air assets in our vicinity. Concentrate on the fighters.”