Bolos: Old Guard by Keith Laumer

The amount of information that was gained, however, was enormous.

The point defense capabilities of these aliens was very impressive. None of the missiles fired against the northern orbital defense battery penetrated their screen of energy weapons. Only Keertra’s depleted uranium spears, launched by his command ship, survived the fusillade of fire rising to protect their turret. These simple weapons that Keertra often employed were launched against the suspected underground complex beneath the turret, but were actually what finally silenced the turret itself. Keertra, by accident, had found an effective weapon against these aliens. Unfortunately, missiles were the barrage weapons of choice among the Kezdai, and it seemed likely that the invasion forces would have to retool before they set off. This would delay them, perhaps even several years, but a warrior must attack their enemies’ weakness, not their strength. And point defense was obviously one of their strengths. At least, Keertra mused, the Kezdai had finally found a use for their long-spent and useless uranium caches.

The power of the alien’s energy weapons was indeed terrifying. Still, fixed emplacements would not be a problem. As protected as a ground battery might be, overwhelming it was just a matter of scale and manner. Against fixed fortifications, the attacker would always have the advantage, for it was he who chose how the battle would be fought.

Two of the alien’s three ground batteries, however, were mobile. The very concept stunned Keertra when the combat logs of the Taitta and Kiosia were analyzed. Without doubt, the counterbattery computers onboard the frigates detected a considerable transverse motion of the ground batteries, even as they were firing upon them. Unfortunately, the frigates’ computers had little capability to account for this motion, and their return fire was wide of their mark. Adaptations would be made to their fire control, he was promised, but Keertra was dubious. No one in his Council could imagine what kind of machine could accurately wield so much firepower, and still travel so quickly over the ground. Neither did he have any remaining expendable warships to find out more about them. These mobile batteries were an unknown, and Keertra feared that they would remain so.

But they could be avoided, the Is-kaldai was sure. Only missiles rose up to fend off his transports over the oceans of this world. And there were only a few. Several transports had made planetfall unscathed, and even now were seeking land to deploy their troops. Unless these troublesome mobile batteries could fly, the majority of this planet was protected from orbit only by missiles. And missiles could be intercepted.

This phase of their operation was over. It was now time for the final phase to begin.

Keertra entered his command chambers in a rush, his crimson robe flowing behind him. A narrow beam transmission to the planet had been prepared, and Ad-akradai Khoriss was told to stand by for orders. It was time for the ground war to commence.

Khoriss was his most able commander, just as Irriessa was that for Riffen. He was also Keertra’s younger brother, forcing Riffen to risk only his greatest Ad-akradai for the cause. In truth, however, Khoriss was expendable. Although his brother was indeed a master tactician, that wasn’t what Keertra needed in the fight to come. What he needed were ruthless commanders, willing to follow Keertra’s every command without question or consideration. Khoriss would never betray him or his plans, but Keertra could not trust him to wield his blade against many whom he had foolishly befriended.

If Khoriss survived his mission, Keertra would be pleased. But if he did not, it would be no great loss. The public mourning for his sacrifice Keertra would demand would last for years. But Keertra would be little inconvenienced, himself.

“Khoriss, my brother, how goes things?”

His brother looked uneasy as his projected image stood before Keertra on the wall. Behind him, the nearly emptied cargo hold of his transport was still swarming with troops and workers, offloading supplies. From the view outside the ship, it could be seen that it was night there.

“Our forces are deployed, Is-kaldai, without finding much resistance. A few farming settlements are scattered through the terrain, with few armaments to protect them. We retrieved several of these aliens for later study, provided we escape the planet. We are preparing a preliminary biologic analysis, now.”

“Excellent, Khorrss. Do ground forces advance against you, yet?”

“We launch surveillance drones at sporadic intervals, but they are destroyed as quickly as they approach the cities, just as our perimeter destroys theirs. A brief image taken by our last drone shows forces massing along the roadway to the west. To the east, forces around their starport appear to be just digging in. No other city is a threat to us yet on the roadway that we have set down near.”

“Good! Then you are free to throw your entire strength against the forces to the west.”

“That is what I plan, Is-kaldai. Once they are destroyed, I can then test the fortifications to the east.”

“Learn all you can, Khoriss, even if it means losing your battles. We must learn how they fight in the field, and how they defend their positions.”

“I understand.” Khoriss bowed his head slightly.

“How are Riffen’s troops cooperating?”

“All is well, Is-kaldai. They follow my orders.”

“The transports that survived insertion are attempting to reinforce you, but that will be all you can expect. Our mission now relies entirely on you.”

“It is enough, Is-kaldai.”

Suddenly the cargo hold lights dimmed behind Khoriss, and a warning klaxon sounded. Bright flashes of light lit up the thick foliage outside the wide-open doors of the transport as point defense dischargers opened fire into the sky.

“We are under attack,” Khoriss announced. “We have to break contact!”

His brother didn’t wait for an answer before closing the channel. This was a punishable offense, but Keertra was willing to overlook it, considering the circumstances.

A narrow beam transmission was supposedly undetectable by any known technology. The Is-kaldai preferred not to believe that the aliens had triangulated Khorris’ position from that. He hoped, instead, that their position was determined by other surveillance, and the timing of the attack had been coincidental.

Perhaps, though, that should be tested, Keertra considered.

* * *

The Alabaster Guard had moved out.

But it had not gone far. It had taken them hours to fight through the civilian traffic to get to the east-west highway to Reims, and once they were there, they were told to wait again. A light rain fell from the night sky as Kaethan was escorted to a local inn. Rather than set up camp, Colonel Neils just decided to move into its lobby. The inn had provided several makeshift tables, and it was strange to see everyone sitting in bright red, plush chairs around them. A large, flat screen display was standing on its tall tripod behind the colonel, blank for now.

Kaethan was stunned to see that one of the many uniforms in the lobby was Concordiat desert gray. His father was here.

Also a surprise was the familiar face of Walter Rice approaching him with a big smile plastered upon it. In his left hand Walter held a glass of local wine, while in the other he held a packet of important looking papers. Why he was here was quite beyond Kaethan.

“Hey,” Walter called cheerfully, “looks like I’ve been attached to you.”

It took a few moments for Kaethan to understand what this meant. The realization compounded his confusion.

“You’re taking your toy into the field with us?”

“Corporal Bicks will be driving, of course. It’s the next logical step.” Walter confirmed. Then in a hushed tone, “And it’s officially called a Sentinel, now. Prototype, of course. I’d appreciate it if you don’t call it a toy.”

“Aren’t they risking a lot by throwing you out into the field?”

“Me? Personally? No. The system works now, I just have to fine-tune it. No better place than real combat, eh?”

Kaethan couldn’t tell if Walter really was this cheerful about it, or whether it was just an act. He suspected, though, that it was real, and it annoyed the hell out of him.

“I saw that your father was here,” Walter said, nodding to him. “You didn’t tell me before that he brought two Bolo Mark Thirties to the planet.”

“Units DBC and DBQ,” Kaethan informed him. “Chains and Quarter.”

“I’d love to take a look at one.”

“I might visit after all this. I’ll try to bring you along.”

” `C’ is for Chains, and `Q’ is for Quarter . . . what does `DB’ stand for?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Outside, another command vehicle skidded to a stop and a group of officers jumped out and headed for the door.

“Why `Quarter’? As in, he gives none?”

“Something like that.”

No more could be said about it however, because the last collection of majors and captains just entered the room, dripping wet. With their arrival, everyone started taking places. His father had been talking directly with Colonel Neils, but now searched for and found Kaethan as Neils attended to his presentation display. Toman gave up his red plush seat to stand with his son and Walter around the perimeter of chairs.

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