Clambering into it, Tully discovered the interior was designed something like a large van; except, here too, Jao rounded lines prevailed instead of human boxy ones. It was all very artistic, he thought sourly—like “art deco,” if he remembered the right term—but a pain in the ass to sit up straight in. Jao, with their long torsos and relatively short legs, were comfortable riding in a half-crouched position. Humans weren’t.
The fraghta and Aille got in the front, next to the driver, while Tamt, Kralik, Aguilera, and Tully piled into the rear.
Tully’s fingers turned the locator band round and round his arm. He felt like a tagged pet monkey. True, he could console himself with the thought that Aille was using a major general as if he were just an aide. But that wasn’t much consolation, since Tully didn’t really have anything against Kralik; and, in any event, the general never seemed like the type of officer who fretted much over his status.
Moving as quickly as Jao ground vehicles could, it wasn’t long before they had overtaken the Jao column fighting its way into Salem. “Fighting” was the word, too. The vehicle they were riding in had audio equipment as good as the screens that substituted for windows on all sides. Automatic weapons-fire was a constant rattle now. The Jao had obviously found the combatants. At one point, the vehicle had to maneuver around a Jao combat vehicle resting crazily on its side, smoke rising from its turret and its maglevs failed.
“It takes an armor piercing shell to do that kind of damage,” Kralik observed. “They must have some more handheld missiles, or some antitank guns.”
With an emphasis on “some,” Tully thought, holding on as the vehicle swerved to avoid Jao foot troops in the middle of the road. He knew just how hard it was for the Resistance to get its hands on that kind of ordnance. Even old-style human weaponry was scarce, this many years after the conquest.
But, wherever and however they’d gotten the weapons, Tully knew that Aguilera was right—and he also knew that the Resistance in the Pacific Northwest was going to be pulling out all the stops in this battle. In fact, they must have been planning and organizing this operation for some time. They wouldn’t be committing their precious heavy weaponry otherwise.
An orange-red explosion filled the night and sparks lit up the sky like fireworks. At a low-voiced command from Aille, the vehicle stopped. A moment later, to Tully’s surprise, the Subcommandant and Yaut were piling out.
The vehicle’s doors flew open and Tully hurried to follow. Yaut had the locator control and he didn’t dare let him get too far away. Better to be shot than have your brains fried.
Despite the heavy rain, he could smell something burning, acrid and strong. Another damaged Jao vehicle was nearby. Not one of their tank equivalent, but the kind they used as personnel carriers. Several figures lay on the wet ground beside it, Jao by the shape and size. No one was tending them. Dead? he thought with rising hope. The rebels had actually drawn blood!
A lot of Jao blood, in fact, more than Tully had ever seen. There were small pools of the orange stuff on the street, not just the few drops you normally saw.
The Jao didn’t usually bleed much. As with almost everything else, their bodies were tougher than human ones that way also. Tully even knew the reason, because Rob Wiley had explained it to him once.
“They stop bleeding so much faster than us because instead of thrombocytes they have micro-threads. Think of it being like superfine glass-fiber in their veins, only it’s an organic compound with silica and aluminum in it. That’s why their blood is that weird orange color.”
Aille bent over one of the corpses, studying it for a moment. “Come,” he said. “I have to observe more closely. This is not right.”
* * *
Something in the distance erupted, staggering Yaut and causing him to fall to one knee.
“What was that?” Yaut looked back at Aille. His ears sagged and his head buzzed from the force of the explosion.