Carnifex. Part 34

Well trained troops initiate an ambush with their greatest casualty producing weapon.

Idiots do so by shouting "Allahu Akbar!"

Up near the point, Qabaash heard the shout, as did the squad ahead of him, and flopped behind a boulder moments before the rocks began to ring and the air to crack with the sound of incoming bullets. He put one arm on his fire support officer's shoulder, squeezed once and said, "Mortars. On those idiots ahead. No more than thirty rounds with two white phosphorus to mark the end. Now."

They shame me by being from the same culture, Qabaash thought. Qabaash thought. They humiliate me that we share a religion. Well...we'll soon fix that. They humiliate me that we share a religion. Well...we'll soon fix that.

By this time most of the Salah al Din was landed and the 120mm mortars, at least, were set up and ready to fire. Ammunition was still, and would be for some hours, rather limited. No matter; Qabaash just wanted to stun them a little. For the rest...

"And pa.s.s the word: Fix bayonets."

Muamar al Ras.h.i.+d ibn Ras.h.i.+d had heard the shout and, like his comrades, popped his head over the lip of the trench to his front and let off a burst. It was a thirty-round burst and of that thirty rounds two went in the general direction of the enemy and the rest went well off into s.p.a.ce. No matter. Muamar's job was to be there and to pull the trigger. Whether anything hit or not was the will of Allah.

And it certainly is exciting, thought the young Yithrabi. thought the young Yithrabi. Just like I imagined. Mother and Father will be so proud. I wonder what that sound- Just like I imagined. Mother and Father will be so proud. I wonder what that sound- Kaboom. Boomoomoom. Kaboom.

Qabaash carefully counted the number of mortar rounds that came in. After reaching "Twenty-seven," he stood in plain sight of all his men. Unusually enough for an Arab leader, he carried a rifle, though in his case he'd selected a Draco sniper rifle. Affixed to the end of that rifle was a bayonet.

A couple of bullets sang by. If they weren't aimed, I'd be worried. If they weren't aimed, I'd be worried.

"Sons of Sumer!" He cried out loudly enough for even the tail of the column to hear. He lifted his rifle one-handed above his head for all to see. "Grandsons of the great Sargon! For the honor of our brigade! For the glory of our country! To the exaltation of our G.o.d!" Qabaash' eye caught the two white bursts of white phosphorus that he'd asked for. "Chaaarrrggge!"

None of the broadcasts on Al Iskandaria News Channel had seen fit to mention what it was like to receive fire. Some of the old timers could have told Muamar, but they were few and the new recruits many. That lesson had had to be skipped.

The sh.e.l.ls had come in, exploding with a fearful crash and-far, far worse-making Muamar's innards ripple in a way that was as near to being raped as the boy could imagine. He heard a scream and turned to see a friend clutch at his face with blood pouring out through his fingers. Instantly Muamar felt the need to throw up. Then he heard a shout coming from the enemy side. When he looked he saw a tight knot of men coming toward him led by a laughing and screaming jinn jinn in battle dress and carrying a long rifle. The Yithrabi shat himself and collapsed down to the bottom of his trench. in battle dress and carrying a long rifle. The Yithrabi shat himself and collapsed down to the bottom of his trench.

There is a difference between what is called "marching fire" and the "spray and pray" technique used by almost all Salafist forces. The Salafis pointed and shot, expecting that Allah would grace their piety by provided hits they had not really earned by dint of serious training. The marching fire used by the point company of the Salah al Din Salah al Din was also merely pointed, though it was was also merely pointed, though it was well well pointed. But Qabaash's crew knew they wouldn't get any hits or, at least, that they were most unlikely to. Instead, marching fire put a lot of bullets in the right general area to frighten the enemy down into his holes so that one could advance quickly and safely, for some limited interpretations of "safely." pointed. But Qabaash's crew knew they wouldn't get any hits or, at least, that they were most unlikely to. Instead, marching fire put a lot of bullets in the right general area to frighten the enemy down into his holes so that one could advance quickly and safely, for some limited interpretations of "safely."

As a practical matter, "spray and pray" fails because it has no end game. "Marching fire's" end game is to close with the bayonet, the rifle b.u.t.t and the hand grenade. One works to advance the tactical objective; the other does not.

Qabaash had quickly sprinted ahead of the lead squad, then slowed to a jog. Though he carried a sniper rifle-a good commander is ent.i.tled to his little eccentricities-he held it low, rather than to his shoulder, and pumped out a single round every fourth step. The first squad took their cue from their brigade commander-that, and the way they had been trained to execute marching fire in the past-and likewise sprinted to catch up to him, then slowed to a jog. In their case, they fired short bursts rather than single rounds and fired them every other step, using the interval to bring their rifles back more or less on target. The remaining two squads of the lead platoon did likewise until there was a fairly thick-thick in battle terms-line of men screaming and cursing and putting out roughly ten thousand rounds a minute into an area not more than one hundred meters by two and with ricochets off the ground thrown in to increase the effect.

A few of the people in the trench tried to surrender. The Sumeris weren't really interested. By the conduct of the great Salafi conspiracy across Terra Nova and especially within Sumer, these men had put themselves beyond the pale. By joining that conspiracy they had a.s.sumed personal responsibility for all the crimes committed in its name.

The short version of which is that most of those who probably wanted to surrender were simply shot down. The Sumeri troops had learned the laws of war from the Legion Legion.

Qabaash dropped back as his troops swept across and over the trench. He looked behind him to see the remainder of the lead company racing up. Hearing a piteous, mewling sound he looked down and saw one of the Salafis cowering and s.h.i.+vering in the trench. A strong odor of human s.h.i.+t arose from the Salafi. Obviously he had no fight left in him. Just as obviously he had not made manifest his desire to surrender. As such...

"G.o.d is great," whispered Qabaash as he placed the muzzle of his Draco against the back of Muamar's head and pulled the trigger.

The commander of the lead company, Naquib Naquib al Husseini, trotted up to stand beside Qabaash. Al Husseini looked down at the exploded skull of the Salafi in the trench and grimaced, then shrugged. al Husseini, trotted up to stand beside Qabaash. Al Husseini looked down at the exploded skull of the Salafi in the trench and grimaced, then shrugged.

"Amid, you should not do that. Your job is not to lead charges but to direct them," the naquib naquib chided. chided.

"Time and place for everything," Qabaash answered, adding his own shrug. "I don't think there will be much more resistance. Push your men hard hard for the pa.s.s, Husseini." for the pa.s.s, Husseini."

"Aywa, Amid." Yes, Brigadier. Yes, Brigadier.

In the west the sun was setting on a day of disaster. It was said that the infidel had already pushed fifty kilometers to the north from his starting line in southern Pashtia. The summit was lost, of course. Noorzad had seen that happen himself, escaping with about half his followers-and almost none of them the dirty Yithrabi city boys he so generally despised.

The enemy had used none of their "EE-EM-PEE" bombs on his communications. No matter; by this time Noorzad's cadre knew to keep spare phones and radios in metal boxes called "Faraday cages" to protect them from the effects of the bombs. The enemy had had an equally dirty trick, though. Somehow they'd managed to dial every every telephone number for every cell and satellite phone the telephone number for every cell and satellite phone the mujahadin mujahadin had set to detonate explosive devices along the highway. They'd done something similar with wide-spectrum radio. Between these, the infidel had detonated virtually every explosive device. Noorzad suspected they'd flown a plane up the road at high alt.i.tude to do this. had set to detonate explosive devices along the highway. They'd done something similar with wide-spectrum radio. Between these, the infidel had detonated virtually every explosive device. Noorzad suspected they'd flown a plane up the road at high alt.i.tude to do this.

b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Sons of wh.o.r.es. Is there no end to their iniquity?

There were about one thousand mujahadin mujahadin caught between the enemy's point of advance in the south and the summit he had already seized. If they were smart they'd give up the defense of the pa.s.s as a bad job and simply fade into the surrounding mountains. Some would be that smart, Noorzad suspected. Others would not. Such was life. Of those who tried to escape, some would fall to the sniper teams the infidel scattered about so liberally. Others would not. That, too, was life. caught between the enemy's point of advance in the south and the summit he had already seized. If they were smart they'd give up the defense of the pa.s.s as a bad job and simply fade into the surrounding mountains. Some would be that smart, Noorzad suspected. Others would not. Such was life. Of those who tried to escape, some would fall to the sniper teams the infidel scattered about so liberally. Others would not. That, too, was life.

The cave in which Noorzad and the remaining six-score of his followers sheltered was dark and dank and, overall, miserable. It did have some virtues, though. While expanded inside, it was a naturally occurring cave with only a crawls.p.a.ce for an entrance. Thus, there never had been the usual crowd of trucks and workers outside it to tell the spying eyes overhead that it was there. The best proof that the enemy didn't know about it was that they were all still alive. Almost as important, the cave contained food. This, the men would need for their upcoming trek down the mountains and back to the Base. The cave also had money and that, too, would be needed.

"And so, what now, Noorzad?" asked Malakzay.

"And now we split up and return to the Base," answered the chieftain. "There we rebuild and then we do it all again...and again...and again until the last of our lands are freed of the invader's polluting footsteps. They will grow sick of it before we do because, after all, we have no place else to go and they do. do."

25/3/468 AC, The Base, Kashmir "Try to understand, Mustafa, there was no place Abdulahi could run to and they had his chief son and heir," said Nur al-Deen. "He had had to give in to them. And, at least, he had the good grace to send us a message detailing all he has been forced into and what the enemy has not thought to force him into. He also promises to return to the fold as soon as possible." to give in to them. And, at least, he had the good grace to send us a message detailing all he has been forced into and what the enemy has not thought to force him into. He also promises to return to the fold as soon as possible."

"Did he tell them about our little project for the enemy fleet?" asked Mustafa.

"He insists he has not, but has begged us to delay our strike until he can identify the s.h.i.+ps his people-especially his son-are being held on and to avoid those s.h.i.+ps or s.h.i.+p if at all possible."

"Easy enough to promise," Mustafa sneered. "When the time comes we will act as we must."

The Ikhwan Ikhwan chief turned his attention to Abdul Aziz. "How goes that program?" chief turned his attention to Abdul Aziz. "How goes that program?"

"Everything is ready and the s.h.i.+p sails for the Xamar Coast even as we speak, O Prince. Buuut..."

"Yes?"

"The infidels' foul work off Xamar is basically done; Abdulahi's message tells us as much. Will they stay there? I think not. I think they must head for the Nicobar Straits and very soon."

Mustafa stroked his own beard in contemplation for some moments. "Do you think they will leave before we can strike?"

"Not before we can can, Mustafa, but perhaps before we should. That accursed aircraft carrier will be more vulnerable in or near the Straits then it would be off Xamar, being confined at the one but with the entire Sea of Sind to run through at the other."

More beard stroking ensued, followed by extensive moustache tugging, and even some hair twirling.

"You are risking losing the a.s.sets we gained along the Nicobar Straits," Mustafa objected, still tugging at his beard.

Abdul Aziz's head rocked from side to side. "We are also risking them if we take this one shot at the infidel fleet and miss."

"He speaks truth, Mustafa," said Nur al-Deen. He'd come around. "We will only have the one chance."

"Let it be so, then," agreed the Prince of the Ikhwan Ikhwan. "I shall inform Parameswara and al Naquib al Naquib of what we need." of what we need."

Interlude

7/6/47 AC (Old Earth year 2106), Terra Nova, Balboa Colony "Tanks? Are you sure, Pedro? Tanks?"

"Jefe," Pedro answered, half offended, "you know something big as a house that still moves and has a gun even bigger 'roun' then my d.i.c.k; you let me know."

"s.h.i.+t. Tanks." Belisario paused, then said, "Sorry, Pedro. It isn't that I didn't believe you. It's that I didn't want want to believe you. s.h.i.+t. How the h.e.l.l do we fight tanks?" to believe you. s.h.i.+t. How the h.e.l.l do we fight tanks?"

Pedro shrugged and answered, "We no fight, jefe jefe. We stay the f.u.c.k away. They only three of them, anyway. Or maybe four; Pedro not sure."

Belisario shook his head. "Easy to say, Pedro. It's not that easy to do. I don't know much about tanks but I do know that they can go a lot of places you wouldn't expect. They can also move faster in anything but the thickest jungle than we can on horseback. And, then, where the tanks really can't can't go the helicopters we both saw go the helicopters we both saw can can."

"They got airplanes, too, jefe jefe."

21/7/47 AC, Balboa Colony, Terra Nova Belisario never heard them coming. He had no clue clue as to how they found his band through the thick jungle canopy overhead. One second he was riding his horse, half asleep and letting the animal pick its way along the jungle trail. The next, the world seemed engulfed in explosions as salvo after salvo of rockets came in on his narrow little column. as to how they found his band through the thick jungle canopy overhead. One second he was riding his horse, half asleep and letting the animal pick its way along the jungle trail. The next, the world seemed engulfed in explosions as salvo after salvo of rockets came in on his narrow little column.

As quickly as the attack had come it pa.s.sed, leaving only the screams of the wounded men and horses.

"How the f.u.c.k do I fight that," Belisario cursed aloud.

Chapter Fourteen.

"Your opponent can't talk when he has your fist in his mouth."-President William Jefferson Clinton

35/3/468 AC, UEPF Spirit of Peace Transfer between s.h.i.+ps was always a pain for someone. Given the nature of the cargo, it was critically important that whoever it was a pain for, it not present the slightest difficulty or discomfort for the hereditary Marchioness of Amnesty, Lucretia Arbeit. One of the crew of the shuttle already had a bright red welt rising on her face from the Marchioness' leather riding crop. Arbeit was an absolute stickler for protocol and the unfortunate Cla.s.s IV had regrettably failed to go belly down in full proskynesis as Arbeit pa.s.sed through the shuttle's portal.

There were two ways to make transfers when two spinning s.h.i.+ps were involved. One was very difficult, involving lining the s.h.i.+ps up stern to stern, killing rotation in both, docking and then recommencing spin, with one spinning opposite to its usual direction.

That was almost never done. Instead, shuttles were used, the receiving s.h.i.+p taking control of the shuttle and matching its spin to that of the s.h.i.+p. This was the method used to bring Arbeit aboard the Spirit of Peace. Spirit of Peace.

The hangar deck could only accommodate a few dozen in the reception party. They, excepting only High Admiral Robinson, executed full proskynesis as the Inspector General emerged from the shuttle. Proskynesis was for lowers; among Cla.s.s Ones a broad equality reigned. He and the imperious Marchioness settled for shaking hands as the crew ungracefully arose from their supine positions of homage.

"Lucretia, how truly delightful to see you once again," Robinson said with no obvious insincerity. Then again, Old Earth's elites learned to mask their feelings quite young.

"Martin, dear boy, you cannot imagine what a simply ghastly trip this has been and how pleased I am to see you at the end of it."

Robinson smiled warmly. "May I present my staff and crew?"

"Please."

Turning, Robinson introduced Wallenstein first. She bowed, saying, "At your service, madam." Then, as she lifted her head, she also licked her lips slightly just in case the IG had any doubts as to how completely at her service Wallenstein intended to be.

"Charmed, Captain," Arbeit answered with a nod and a subtle swipe of her tongue across her own lower lip.

"My s.h.i.+p's sociologist, Lieutenant Commander Kahn."

Kahn the wife practically quivered in antic.i.p.ation of the pleasurable beatings she expected the IG to administer. "I'm sooo thrilled to meet you, Admiral," she gushed.

"My operations officer..."

Later Robinson said, "What I don't understand is why you are here here, Lucretia. The IG practically never visits the fleet here. It's been over a century."

"Yes, I know, Martin," Arbeit agreed in the intimacy of the guest VIP suite. "The Consensus sent me. They've heard things are going badly here. Things are not going so well at home, either. We might need you to bring the fleet back."

"The reverted areas?" Robinson asked.

"Yes...but not the way you might expect, Martin. There was a raid on Buenas Aires from some barbarians in the Pampas reversion. The city was taken and sacked. For three days it was sacked."

"My Annan!" Robinson exclaimed. "Buenas Aires? That's..."

"Inconceivable?" Arbeit supplied. "Impossible? Nonetheless, our last outpost in southern South America is gone. We've had to pull out of everything south of Montevideo."

"But...well...Lucretia you can't take any of the fleet away. You just can't can't. Let me explain."

Robinson proceeded to lay out the situation on Terra Nova and the long term threat it presented to the ruling caste on Old Earth.

"I had no idea things here were so dangerous for us," Arbeit said.

"Some of my staff think I'm being optimistic in believing we even have a chance to eliminate the Terra Novan threat, long term," the High Admiral answered glumly.

"Be that as it may, I may still have to take some of the fleet back home with me. What good does it do to eliminate a threat here and lose our home and position there? And even if I decide I can't do that, I'm going to need some excellent reasons for not doing so when I report to the Consensus."

"I can understand that," Robinson agreed. "I'll even escort you down below, myself, so you can see."

"Will you escort me through my little games, too, Martin?" Arbeit asked with a smile.

"Sorry, Lucretia, but they're not to my taste. Wallenstein will take care of that."