He looked at his watch, as the light airjeep let down into the street.
Oh-one-fifteen--two hours and a half since the mutiny at the
native-troops barracks had broken out. The Company reservation was
still ablaze with lights, and over the roof of the hospital and
dispensary and test-lab he could see the glare of the burning
barracks. There was more fire-glare to the south, in the direction of
the mine-equipment park and the mine-labor camp, and from that
direction the bulk of the firing was to be heard.
The driver, a young lieutenant, slid back the duraglass canopy for him
to climb in, then snapped it into place when he had strapped himself
into his seat, and hit the controls.
They lifted up, the driver turning the nose of the airjeep in the
direction of the flames and explosions and magnesium-lights to the
south and tapping his booster-button gently. The vehicle shot forward
and came floating in over the scene of the fighting. The situation-map
at the improvised headquarters had shown a mixture of pink and white
pills in the mine-equipment park; something was going to have to be
done about the lag in correcting it, for the area was entirely in the
hands of loyal Company troops, and the mob of laborers and mutinous
soldiers had been pushed back into the temporary camp where the
workers had been gathered to await transportation to the Arctic. As he
had feared, the rioting workers, many of whom were trained to handle
contragravity equipment, had managed to lift up a number of
dump-trucks and power-shovels and bulldozers, intending to use them as
improvised air-tanks, but Jarman's combat-cars had gotten on the job
promptly and all of these had been shot down and were lying in
wreckage, mostly among the rows of parked mining-equipment.
* * * * *
From the labor-camp, a surprising volume of fire was being directed
against the attack which had already started from the retaken
equipment-park.
Hovering above the fighting, aloof from it, he saw six long
troop-carriers land and disgorge Kragan Rifles who had been released
by the liquidation of resistance at the native-troops barracks. A
little later, two air-tanks floated in, and then two more, going off
contragravity and lumbering forward on treads to fire their 90-mm.
rifles. At the same time, combat-cars swooped in, banging away with
their lighter auto-cannon and launching rockets. The titanium
prefab-huts, set up to house the laborers and intended to be taken
north with them for their stay on the polar desert, were simply wiped
away. Among the wreckage, resistance was being blown out like the
lights of a candelabrum.
He took up the hand-phone and called HQ.
"Von Schlichten; what's the wavelength of the officer in command at
the equipment-park?"
A voice at the telecast station furnished it; he punched it out.
"Von Schlichten, right overhead. That you, Major Falkenberg? Nice
going, major; how are your casualties?"
"Not too bad. Twenty or thirty Kragans and loyal Skilkans, and eight
Terrans killed; about as many wounded."
"Pretty good, considering what you're running into. Get many of your
Kragans mounted on those hipposaurs?"
"About a hundred; a lot of 'saurs got shot, while we were leading them
out from the stables."
"Well, I can see geeks streaming away from the labor-camp, out the
south end, going in the direction of the river. Use what cavalry you
have on them, and what contragravity you can spare. I'll drop a few
flares to show their position and direction."
Anticipating him, the driver turned the airjeep and started toward the
dry Hoork River. Von Schlichten nodded approval and told him to
release flares when over the fugitives.
"Right," Falkenberg replied. "I'll get on it at once, general."
"And start moving that mine-equipment up into the Company area. Some
of it we can put into the air; the rest we can use to build
barricades. None of it do we want the geeks getting hold of, and the
equipment-park's outside our practical perimeter. I'll send people to
help you move it."
"No need to do that, sir; I have about a hundred and fifty loyal North
Ullrans--foremen, technicians, overseers--who can handle it."
"All right. Use your own judgment. Put the stuff back of the
native-troops barracks, and between the power-plant and the Company
office-buildings, and anywhere else you can." The lieutenant nudged
him and pushed a couple of buttons on the dashboard. "Here go the
flares, now."
* * * * *
Immediately, a couple of airjeeps pounced in, to strafe the fleeing
enemy. Somebody must have already been issuing orders on another
wavelength; a number of Kragans, riding hipposaurs, were galloping
into the light of the flares.
"Now, let's have a look at the native barracks and the
maintenance-yards," he said. "And then, we'll make a circuit around
the Reservation, about two-three miles out. I'm not happy about where
Firkked's army is."
The driver looked at him. "I've been worrying about that, too, sir,"
he said. "I can't understand why he hasn't jumped us, already. I know
it takes time to get one of these geek armies on the road, but...."
"He's hoping our native-troops and the mine laborers will be able to
wipe us out, themselves," von Schlichten said.
There was nothing going on in the area between the native barracks
and the mountains except some sporadic firing as small patrols of
Kragans clashed with clumps of fleeing mutineers. All the barracks,
even those of the Rifles, were burning; the red-and-yellow
danger-lights around the power-plant and the water-works and the
explosives magazines were still on. Most of the floodlights were still
on, and there was still some fighting around the maintenance-yard. It
looked as though the survivors of the Tenth N.U.N.I. were in a few
small pockets which were being squeezed out.
There was nothing at all going on north of the Reservation; the
countryside, by day a checkerboard of walled fields and small
villages, was dark, except for a dim light, here and there, where the
occupants of some farmhouse had been awakened by the noise of battle.
Then, two miles east of the Reservation, he caught a new sound--the
flowing, riverlike, murmur of something vast on the move.
"Hear that, lieutenant?" he asked. "Head for it, at about a thousand
feet. When we're directly above it, let go some flares."
"Yes, sir." The younger man had lowered his voice to a whisper.
"That's geeks; headed for the Reservation."
"Maybe Firkked's army," von Schlichten thought aloud. "Or maybe a city
mob."
* * * * *
The noises were growing clearer, louder. He picked up the phone and
punched the wavelength of the military airport.
"Von Schlichten; my compliments to Colonel Jarman. Tell him there's a
geek mob, or possibly Firkked's regulars, on the main highway from
Skilk, two miles east of the Reservation. Get some combat
contragravity over here, at once. We'll light them up for you. And
tell Colonel Jarman to start flying patrols up and down along the
Hoork River; this may not be the only gang that's coming out to see
us."
The sounds were directly below, now--the scuffing of horny-soled feet
on the dirt road, the clink and rattle of slung weapons, the clicking
and squeaking of Ullran voices.