Robert Adams - Champion of the Last Battle

“Now the proper numbers of vehicles are in this column, so I can but assume that the colonel found some other loads to fill those wagonbeds that were to convey you and the men. Whatever those loads, they’re obviously something he’s damned edgy over. Hell, maybe it’s all whiskey, for the man’s been drinking steadily all the day long, and he’s still at it this night.

“But drunk or sober, Potter is no whit less dangerous, doctor. Those pikemen and that child officer will obey him blindly, will maim or kill all of you, if he says the word. That’s the inbred discipline of our people and our army, for he’s a colonel and his mother was a Devernee. So please do nothing to provoke Colonel Potter, I beseech you.

“I agree with you, with your prognosis. Those men will not be able to don their boots tomorrow. My assistants have gone back to the main camp, and when they return they will have a quantity of rawhides and leather lacings with which to fashion rough brogans for your followers. Tomorrow night, I’ll have them bring enough woolen foot wrappings for all of your men. Their boots can be carried in the wain. But they must march, doctor, one way or the other, for now that that evil little man has publicly stated the intention, he will kill or have others kill every one of your men who is not on his feet on the road at dawn.

“But he will suffer soon enough for these misdeeds, doctor. You have the sworn word of a Devernee on that.”

Then he disappeared into the surrounding darkness.

Jay Corbett found the Dr. Harry Braun who was coptered up to join him with the special weapons and his replacement military commander, Colonel MacBride, a Broomtown man of late middle age, a far cry from the arrogant elitist he once had been. The body was different, naturally, but Corbett and all the other original Center people had long since grown accustomed to seeing their colleagues in new bodies. Under the best of circumstances, they had to transfer into new, young bodies on an average of every twenty-five years.

No, it was not the new body; Braun’s entire bearing and personality seemed to have altered quite perceptibly. For all of the muscular grace, the youth and radiant health of that handsome new body, Braun’s eyes seemed to hold fear, terror, really, and the memory of long-drawn-out agony. His arrogance was become courtesy to the point of diffidence, and this courtesy seemed to extend to everyone, even the Broomtown men and old Johnny, whom he formerly had patronized in even his best moods.

When this new and very different Dr. Harry Braun tried to thank Corbett for persuading the vindictive David Sternheimer to release him from the torturous imprisonment in that suffering, slowly dying body, he began to weep and, in the end, could only gasp “Thank you” over and over again between shuddering sobs. Embarrassed at the display of—in his mind, unmanly—emotion, Corbett left the tent as soon as he decently could, thankful that none of his men had witnessed it, giving as excuse the many and most urgent matters to be discussed in a very circumscribed time with Colonel MacBride, which was all true enough.

Pat MacBride, at least, was unchanged, still being the same man that duty and Corbett had long ago shaped. Not too different from what his father had been, and his grandfather before, thought Corbett. Jay had trained and worked closely with all of them, as well as with still more ancient MacBrides who preceded them, for Pat was the fifth generation of MacBrides who had soldiered for Broomtown and the Center. Nor was he the last, for his eldest son, Rory, was a captain in Gumpner’s regiment, two of his younger sons were sergeants and his youngest was presently in the training unit at Broomtown Base.

When he returned to his tent, it was to find the grizzled, prematurely gray officer, a cold pipe clenched between yellow teeth, studying Corbett’s handwritten list of the personnel and equipment for the northbound expeditionary force which he was calling Operation Erica.

Looking up at Corbett from beneath brows still coal-black, the big-boned man asked bluntly, “Why no long- or intermediate-range transceivers, sir? Those handhelds will be useless for anything more than twenty miles away, even the new type.”

Corbett shrugged and sank onto his cot, the only other place to sit in the spartanly furnished tent. “For what purpose, Pat? We’re going to be burdened with a long enough mule train, as matters stand—the heavy weapons and their ammo, extra ammo for the rifles and the grenade launchers, rations, grain for the animals, medical supplies, those explosives and pyrotechnics, and so on. I just cannot see burdening another mule or two ponies with one of the big transceivers.”

“But what if you get into big trouble, sir?” MacBride continued. “Admittedly, your reinforced company has the firepower of a battalion, or better, but you still could run onto more than even that could handle. You’ve always told officer trainees to keep at least one ace up the sleeve. Where’s yours, sir?”

Corbett grinned wolfishly. “Throwing my own words back at me, eh, Pat? Well, never you worry, old friend, my aces are in place when needed, and you and this contingent down here are not one of them.

“Your orders, as I said back down the trail, are simple and direct to the point: retrieve every bit of material you can of those buried packloads, repack them and get them started south to Broomtown with a reasonable guard under command of a reliable officer of your choice, with Dr. Schiepficker as a supernumerary.”

“You and the remainder of the troops are to stay up here with Harry Braun for a maximum time of three months. If I’m not back by then, I won’t be, ever.

“As regards Dr. Braun, he seems a changed man, but I am disinclined to accept him at face value. Watch him carefully. If he should snap back into his bad old ways, just recall that he has no authority of any description. You are the sole commander of this operation in my absence. Dr. Braun’s only function is that of explosives expert, aside from the fact that he and Dr. Schiepficker are expected to aid in evaluation of devices and parts for them that you get from under those rocks. If he causes you too much trouble, you’ll have written authority from me to either confine him or to shoot and kill him. Okay? And don’t worry about what the Council might say about it, Pat. David Sternheimer hates the doctor’s guts. If you have any personal qualms, just recall how Braun cold-bloodedly murdered Cabell, last year. He was a nephew of yours, wasn’t he?”

MacBride just nodded, his lips set in a grim line, a steely glint in the depths of his brown eyes.

Corbett went on, “I mentioned in passing those long, wormlike things. Well, Schiepficker’s principal reason for being up here is to study them, so cooperate with him insofar as you can, without getting any men hurt or killed in the process. If he tells you he’s got to have one alive, tell him where to go and precisely what to do with himself when he gets there. There is simply no way that that could be done safely. Those creatures are strong, incredibly hard to kill, and as vicious as a rabid wolf; their jaws easily lop off fingers and toes and their bite is invariably septic. Oh, and don’t get any of that slimy mucus they’re covered with in your eyes, either; it seems akin to the secretions of poison toads.

“Well, Pat.” Corbett stood up. “You might as well have your gear brought into this tent. It’s where you’ll be living in my absence. My force will be moving fast and as lightly as is possible, all things considered, so a tent and a camp bed will be luxuries I can’t afford. There’s room enough for us both to sack in here tonight. Gumpner and the force and I’ll be off at dawn.”

More than a month before that morning when General Jay Corbett led his force out of the camp by the landslide, another, considerably larger mounted force had crossed the ill-defined border from the southernmost reaches of the Ahrmehnee stahn into the unmapped, unknown and sinister lands to the west. This column was as heterogeneous as was the condotta of Bili of Morguhn. Middle Kingdoms Freefighters rode with petty nobility of the Confederation, with fierce Ahrmehnee warriors on their bred-up mountain ponies, with Maidens of the Silver Lady in their antique-pattern armor.