The amplifiers went on, concentrating on a single “square” containing by the soldiers’ count eighty-four hundred and twelve women ranging in age from small children to advanced middle-age. The youngest were removed with the explanation that it was necessary to run them all through a sterilization procedure to eliminate the possibility of disease from the overcrowded conditions but that this procedure might well harm children below the age of five. They were positioned so that the children could be easily returned to them “in a matter of an hour.” There was again much resistance to this, but even the kindly soldiers turned very nasty very quickly when argued with.
The spell was a variation of Coydt’s, the only complex one that they understood well enough to modify. Basically, it imposed the physiological rules of New Eden on all the women, which was in and of itself very limiting and genetically firm as well. The specific features were based upon the original’s appearance, but shaped and idealized to make them extremely attractive. They were now small, physically weak, at the mercy of their bodies, and also illiterate and unable to master mathematics, a guarantee that their status could never change. Beyond this, an overlay was created compelling acceptance of all this. They actually felt that their new form and limitations were right and proper, and were anxious to be taught the new system. It worked better than the originators had hoped. Where a milling and frightened throng of diverse women had been, there were now eighty-four hundred and twelve Fluxgirls, just waiting to be classified as tattooed.
The men were trickier, for this was where much research and major modifications of the spell were made. Each kept his own sense of identity, but had an overlay impressed on them to totally and completely accept the new system without question, to unthinkingly obey the orders of all superiors, and to enthusiastically learn and embrace the new order. As a reward, they, too, now were all tall, muscular, and darkly handsome.
There were deviations and aberrations in both squares, of course, and on these, perhaps four or five percent of the whole, a check was run by the amplifier program and they were either modified to fit the “norm” or were, if this proved impossible, quite simply eliminated.
While refugees were still pouring from the gates, the process continued, a square at a time, and Champion’s army swelled with sudden new recruits. There would be no need for years of indoctrination and terror in the newly conquered Anchor; the population was simply being converted wholesale.
And, with the exception of specialized units, and officers, the soldiers who would take the Anchor from those who remained and fought would be their own former friends and neighbors.
The first of the specialized teams went in the night after the agreement had been made. Using odd-shaped devices the ancient writings had called “gliders” and a boost from Flux, teams soared over Anchor walls and landed, fully armed and ready with the most sophisticated gear, near almost all the major factories and installations in Anchor Nantzee. Stun rays were used to counter any opposition within, and they held and secured key positions in a single night. Most of the casualties were due to bad landings and accidents, not hostile action. When the rebels came to blow up the plants, they would find it very difficult to do.
A few had been wired already, and were gingerly defused.
Other advanced teams of veterans came in over the walls during the ten-day truce period, to occupy and hold vital passes and the high ground. These met some scattered resistance, but managed to establish a sizeable presence. One such team, ordered to take a key town that sprawled on a hill overlooking the junction of major roads, was led by Colonel Weiz.
Weiz, had been terrified getting to this point, and had only allowed himself the luxury of relaxing a bit now that they had pushed into Anchor so far with no incidents. The place was, in fact, eerily deserted, the farms quiet except for the milling about of confused animals, the small towns ghostly and unnerving. He was also very well aware that his troops, all professionals, resented his appointment as their commander over their own junior officers and were just waiting for him to make a mistake. Although a colonel, he commanded only a captain’s company; they weren’t risking a really major operation.
They pulled up as they neared their objective, the town standing as quiet as the others, overlooking a crucial break in the mountains where two major rivers joined. Neither of the rivers were deep enough to be navigable, but alongside them were canals and a major roadway. An enemy holding this position for any length of time would cut the main road from the south gate to the industrially vital capital. Taken and held by determined defenders, they could deny vital reinforcements to the teams holding the important points in the capital until a major assault could be mounted to destroy the industry and deny the conquerors the spoils of their victory. Anchor Nantzee looked deserted, but there were almost two hundred thousand people unaccounted for, and a number of anti-New Eden outsiders as well. Each military detachment had a list with drawings of those outsiders, with orders to capture and hold if found.
Weiz halted the detail and motioned for his lieutenants to come forward. Although frightened and inexperienced, he was not ignorant of military tactics. “Too bad we don’t have some artillery,” he said, looking at the quiet scene. “I know we couldn’t spare the time and trouble to haul it along, but a few guns on top of those bluffs would control everything.”
One of the lieutenants nodded. “Yes. sir. But if I was the enemy, I’d do just what you said. We know there’s a lot of militia stuff gone, including cannon and rocket launchers. They’ve had plenty of time to dig in and conceal, and it’s their turf.”
Weiz surveyed the quiet scene through binoculars. “So you think they’re up there, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I’d bet on it. Let’s just say that if they aren’t we’re not going to lose a man in this operation anywhere.”
Weiz sighed. “Very well. Send squads forward to scout out the opposing hill positions there. We’ll save the town for last, because if they’re dug in there we’ll need every man we have to get them out.”
They camped and let the horses graze and checked their weapons and ammunition as they waited for the squads to report back. About forty minutes passed by when they heard some automatic rifle fire being exchanged in the vicinity of one of the three hills overlooking the crucial junction. They were immediately up and at the ready, but the small battle didn’t last long and things settled down once more.
It took almost two hours for the first squad to report back. This one had gone to the second of the three hills and had heard but not seen the firefight. “They’re there, all right,” a grizzled sergeant told them. “Some force too. I’d say, and dug in solid. A number of machine gun positions—these three, here, here, and here on the map— and one, possibly more, rocket launchers concealed by this line of trees. I didn’t see any cannon, but I wouldn’t doubt that they’re there. Not a big force, by the sound of ’em, but it looks like they got caves dug into them mountains.”
Weiz nodded, growing increasingly nervous. He looked back and wondered if he had enough men for this. “Could we hit them with the ray projectors’?”
The sergeant shook his head. “No. sir. Not from here, anyways. You’d have to be almost down at the river junction to do that, and I don’t see how we’d get men and equipment down there without tipping our hand. We’ll have to end around, get as close as we can on the other side, then go over the top. Pepper ’em with grenades and hard fire to force ’em back into their hidey-hole, then go down and blow it.”
Weiz sighed. “How many men do you think you’d need?”
The sergeant and his lieutenant exchanged glances. “I’d like the whole company, sir,” said the officer.
Weiz thought a moment. “Well, let’s see what the others report when they get back. If we need everything, we ought to take the easiest first. We can assume they’re in the town in force now, and probably dug in along the bottom there.”
The remnants of the second squad took another hour to report. They had lost four of their seven men. The other ridge had a line of heavy artillery right on top, with a circle of dug-in emplacements a kilometer down surrounding and protecting the artillery. This was no easy task, either.
Weiz looked at them. “Suggestions?”
“I’d take the artillery post, sir,” one of the lieutenants said. “It’ll give us the high ground. From there we can set up the ray and use it against the rocket positions in support of our assault. Command two of the three and the town will be in a vise.”
The colonel sighed. It was everything he had feared. “All right—draw up your plans and we’ll go over them. If we can, I’d like to get us as much in position tonight as possible, so we can attack at first light. However, I want to send a man back for reinforcements—just in case.”
Getting into position in unfamiliar terrain and in the dark was difficult, and thanks to the earlier firefight the enemy was expecting them. It was a fierce and bloody assault, mostly uphill. The first two attempts left twenty dead and another fourteen wounded—a third of his force, more or less, out of action. They had cleared three key machine gun emplacements and still outnumbered the defenders, but this simply freed the commander on top to fire his cannon down at point-blank range.
Still, they finally succeeded, on the fifth assault, when they at last got to the top of the hill and in hand-to-hand combat took the position. Weiz had not had to personally take part, but now. sitting atop the hill and counting his men, he was clearly worried. He’d lost one of his lieutenants, two of his best noncoms, and half his force killed or wounded badly enough that they were now useless. The surviving lieutenant, a veteran of Bakha who’d risen from the ranks and whose name was Taglia, was not as easily worried.
“We’ve taken the hill, sir, and command one of the three positions. Our ray will reach the other positions, making a downward assault much easier. I think we should go as soon as the men are rested enough to do it.”
Weiz looked at those men and saw weary, bloodied soldiers in no real shape to proceed. “Look at them, Lieutenant. Do you think they could do this all over again? And how many would we be then? Twenty? We need everybody we have just to take that position, and that’ll allow the ones below to take this one. No, let’s do what damage we can with the ray and lick our wounds.”
“Sir—if we don’t take that second hill we can’t hold this one any more than they could.”
“I’ll not argue. Lieutenant! We’re staying put!”
They brought up the projector, a complex device that looked like a large fixed machine gun with shades and mirrors, and assembled it quickly. “We can’t hope to kill ’em at this distance.” the gunner warned. “All it’ll do is knock ’em cold for a while.”
Still, he ordered it powered up and they began spraying the opposite hill with a wide beam. After a few minutes they had to stop to allow the central element in the projector to cool. Ten minutes into the pause, they were raked by rocket fire from the hill they’d just sprayed. Several men were killed outright, and everyone else could only duck for cover.
The lieutenant crawled up to the cowering Weiz. “See? They just duck back in the cave and when we have to pause they come out and pound us! If we don’t attack now they’ll push us right out of here!”
The colonel felt frustrated, confused, and frightened. He was a clinical psychologist, a specialist in drug and conditioning research, who’d been recruited long ago by Coydt van Haas. As such, he had turned Anchor Logh into the kind of vision the early New Eden leaders had desired, and he’d been rewarded handsomely for it. He had been high enough, in fact, to protect his own daughters from his handiwork, then disguise that fact through Suzl’s hypnotic conditioning powers. In fact, he’d had everything New Eden could offer except the top social ranking that could only come with a combat command. Now he’d gotten into it, but he had no way of getting out clean. Perhaps he hadn’t deliberately been given the toughest job in the operation, but he had it all the same. Toughest, hell— impossible!
“We can’t take this much longer!” he shouted over the rockets’ roar. “I’m going to order a withdrawal! We simply need more men!”
“No, sir!” Taglia shouted back. “We can do it! All of us together! Take that position and the town’s ours!”
“I gave you an order, Lieutenant! We are withdrawing—now!”
A number of the other men crept closer and listened intently to the exchange.
“Sir, I will not insult the men who’ve died by withdrawing when I know we can succeed! We’re going to take that hill, with or without your permission!”
“I gave you a direct order, Lieutenant! This is mutiny!”
“No, sir, this is cowardice in the face of the enemy! I am assuming command! Huddle here, come with us, or go anywhere you want. You are relieved!” He looked over at the techs. “Get that damned thing turned back on and give that hill all you’ve got for as long as you can! We’re going to work our way around. I’m leaving five men here to fire off some random artillery shots. When we’re in position I’ll fire a flare and you give ’em everything you’ve got, even if you burn that bastard up! You hear?”
The techs grinned and reached up and turned on the ray. In a few moments, the firing, except for some random small arms fire from below, stopped. They got up and picked up their weapons. Taglia looked down at Weiz. “Are you coming, or not?”
“You’re all committing suicide!” he screamed.
They left him there on the mountain, still screaming orders that no one would obey.
Taglia lost twenty-two more men, but he took the hill in under four hours.
The last of Mervyn’s spies had reported in, and he knew what he had to know. Now he rode a tired horse almost to death, racing along the road to the capital. It was early afternoon on the ninth day, and time was running out. By nightfall, a victorious army would march through both gates, and secure the walls of Anchor.
He knew he had stayed too long, and he’d had more than one gunfight to get out of tight situations. He had been a victim of overconfide.nce, the bane of all powerful wizards and the death of many great ones. He had thought from the first that, in a pinch, he could simply get over the wall and return to Flux that way, but now he’d found that impossible. A Flux wall had been created in a devilishly clever way, to maximize efficiency. The consistency of Flux around Anchor had been changed, so that he had no power in it and moved through it like a swimmer in a mass of mud. He had no idea how far the barrier extended, but there were constant patrols and Flux monitoring would be easy with those machines. He couldn’t afford to find out.
Black-uniformed patrols had chased him, and he was exhausted by the effort of the last few days and the chase itself. Although he took on the appearance of a very old man, he was in truth biologically strong and as healthy as many of the twenty-year-olds who chased him, but he was not used to this sort of thing. He knew, though, that his worst fears had been realized. Now he was out of ammunition and on a very tired animal, but he was closing in on the outskirts of the capital itself. There was a small patrol chasing him. barely visible behind him now, but he knew he could outrun them without trouble.
Suddenly his horse shuddered and keeled over, throwing him from his saddle. He was flying through the air before he knew what happened, and then he hit the ground with a hard and painful crash. He tried to recover and run as quickly as possible, but no amount of adrenaline would enable his right leg to carry him. It was certainly broken, perhaps in more than one place, and the pain was tremendous.
He crawled as best he could to the shelter of some bushes and waited. The patrol was soon in view and closing on the body of his horse, lying in the middle of the road.
The five-man patrol drew up beside the animal, then fanned out. It took only a minute for them to find him.
The corporal leading the patrol took a clipboard from his saddlebag and flipped quickly through the pages. He stopped. nodded, and came over to the fallen wizard. “You are Mervyn the wizard?”
“What use is there denying it’?” he managed. “My leg is badly broken,”
“I have no painkillers or medical supplies. You’ll have to ride in on one of our horses to the city, where there’s a field hospital set up.”
He nodded, but cried out in terrible pain as strong hands lifted him and put him atop a horse. It was the most horrible pain he could remember, but he knew he would survive it.
Survive it, but in the hands of the enemy. He entered the city, and even through his pain he found it ironic that they had set up their small medical facility in a clinic just across the square from the temple. So near and yet so far, he thought sourly. Although they set his leg and poured a temporary cast for it, he knew that there was no way he could make it across that way on his own. It was ironic, since there really was no strong force surrounding the temple at this point—they were too busy holding the important areas. The only thing he managed to do was take advantage of their painkillers to get a little sleep.
The next morning was the tenth day. Around midday, he had a visitor, one whom he recognized despite the shiny black uniform and boots with the insignia designating the man a major in the New Eden army.
“So, Zelligman, you’ve found the easy way out, I see? You look rather—undistinguished—without the goatee.”
Zeliigman Ivan knelt down and kept his voice low. “A handy disguise. A major is too low to be questioned but high enough to get through the lines. But, in the end, old friend, I’m in almost the same fix as you. They are quite well organized, and freedom of movement is increasingly limited. I am on their list as you are, and I suspect I will not bluff my way out a gate come this evening.”
Mervyn had to chuckle, although it hurt. “So at least everything is balanced. One of the Seven dies by firing squad next to one of the Nine.”
“Not necessarily. This place is lightly staffed now and rank-conscious. Do you think you could stand on that cast?”
“Stand, perhaps, but not walk.”
“Crutches, then. You’ve already used them to relieve yourself today.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Very well. In the latrine there I have placed a straight razor and shears. Go in, while I divert others, then make yourself unrecognizable by getting rid of that hair. I will bluff you out of here. There are only a few people, mostly medical personnel.”
“Yes? And then what?”
“We will go together to the temple by the back way which I know is open but guarded by your people. I rescue you, you rescue me. and we go our own ways after.”
Mervyn had to grin. “Done! At least if we’re shot this way it’ll save a lot of embarrassment!” He hesitated a moment. “This is no trick, is it?”
“I swear to you that it is not. Believe me, if I had another way even this certain I would leave you here to be shot. Nothing personal, you understand.” It was crazy enough to work.
The latrine was easy to reach, and the scissors worked wonders on his beard and long hair. It was messy, but it would do. Shaving with the big straight razor and just water was painful, but not as painful as the leg—or bullets flying into his midsection. When he was through, he looked disapprovingly at a face that resembled a funeral director’s with a bad haircut—and looked nothing like his own. The leg he could not disguise, but they were on the ground floor. Overconfidence worked both ways.
Ivan, despite some disparaging comments about his old foe’s appearance, was as smooth as ever, pulling rank and introducing Mervyn as “Colonel Damion, the commander of the glider assault force.” The real Colonel Damion was, in fact, still back in Flux someplace, but his name was known more than his face to these young soldiers, and Mervyn played his own part, griping about breaking his leg in his own gadget.
Once around the corner and into the back alley, though, things became trickier. Ivan had a small two-seater pony cart there, and Mervyn managed very painfully to get in. They rode slowly and tensely down the alley towards the alley entrance to the temple, an entrance few really knew about but one common, in one form or another, to all the temples. Ivan, of course, would know the secrets of all the temples inside and out.
They were, in fact, almost to the entrance, a pair of hinged doors in back of a former grocery shop, when they were challenged by two black-clad soldiers. Ivan greeted them warmly, then shot both of them quickly with a mean-looking handgun. He fired again, this time at the lock on the hinged doors, and it shattered. He pulled up the doors and helped Mervyn through and down the stairs as the sound of running feet came behind them. He closed the doors and found a light switch. Turning it on revealed a very ordinary-looking cellar. “Quickly! How do we get in?”
“We don’t. Unless somebody is watching us and knows that I’m really Mervyn. we’re sunk.”
One of the hinged doors was suddenly pulled open, and an object dropped in. Ivan lunged for it and tossed it back, showing extreme speed and precision.
Two more came down, and he wasn’t quick enough. Both burst into foul-smelling gas and smoke, obscuring everything.
“You in there!” a voice commanded. “Come out now or we’ll toss in grenades next! You have ten seconds!”
Behind them, a wall moved slightly, and two female figures emerged. “Quickly! Get in! We’ll settle who you are later!”
Mervyn. coughing and wheezing, was assisted to the small opening and through it. followed by Ivan and the two priestesses. The slab closed again, but there was much foulness from the gas still in the air.
Almost immediately they heard a powerful explosion that vibrated through the tunnel and dimmed and shook the lights for a moment. They hadn’t been fooling back there.
“Now—who are you?” one of the priestesses asked suspiciously, studying both men in the enemy’s garb.
“I am Mervyn. Her Holiness was expecting me, although probably not this way. This is a—fellow wizard— who saved me from the enemy. In spite of my shave and haircut, I can prove who I am to her, and I’ll vouch for my friend. I know you can keep us under arms until it’s proven, so let’s go. They’ll try blasting through that wall any moment now.”
It took two interminable hours and much pain on Mervyn’s part before they could reach the right people and he could prove his identity. He knew he’d refractured the leg. but it didn’t matter. In Flux, he could even restore the beard.
He introduced Ivan as a Fluxlord from up north named Hadley, and it was sufficient. The High Priestess, though, was both relieved to see him and highly agitated.