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La Revanche reinforced what John knew of the Azteca. The original Azteca
civilization had perfected the art of the Flower Wars. The highest of Azteca
fighting involved the capture of slaves and sacrificial victims, not the
killing of enemies. And the Teotl, John almost laughed, the goddamned Teotl
had been using Flower Wars for the past few hundred years to perfect their
human soldiers.
Generations of Azteca had clashed on the other side of the mountains, getting
better, training for a final war against all the humans on this planet. And no
doubt the Teotl had been hoping to wipe out the Loa and capture the
Ma Wi Jung so they could return to space and find their kind.
Here they all were, all gathered around the city.
John knew the Teotl had one gaping weakness he could exploit. John deBrun
would drop a Flower
War on them unlike anything in Azteca recorded history. If the Teotl could use
human foibles and traditions against the city, John could reply in kind.
The question was, which was more powerful, the tradition of the Flower Wars,
or the orders of the
"gods" when they realized their own tool was backfiring on them?
"Oh," John said, as if an afterthought. "Make sure to equip them with nets.
Weighted nets."
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"Nets?" Haidan asked. "Like for fish?"
"Like for big fish," John said. "And, Haidan, we need to get you fixed. You
aren't in good shape."
Haidan shook his head. "We don't have time. You need go now."
John looked at Pepper.
"You're not thinking right," Pepper said. "But if you're going to do this, I
want ammunition, guns, and a good trench coat. I want to guard the ship."
John put a hand on Haidan's shoulder. "There are things I can use to help you
when I get back, okay?
So hang in there." John knew now what ailed Haidan on top of his wounds.
Cancer, developed from the high radiation of Hope's Loss where old reactors
had plunged back to the ground. John's own body could handle that, but now,
with those gut wounds, Haidan had a few days left at best. He was up and about
now because he was too strong, too stubborn, to give up.
Haidan nodded and leaned back in the chair. Mongoose-men surrounded him.
"We'll get everything you need together. Leave him be for now. We need let him
sleep some. This tire him a whole bunch," one said. "He get hit by a whole
wall, and he already sick."
John nodded.
Overhead a wedge of red Azteca blimps fought to get over the city. Four small,
more agile, Capitol City blimps converged on them, firing their guns with
random popping sounds. Grapelike clusters of bombs swayed from the Aztecan
undercarriages.
A Capitol City blimp exploded and fell out of the sky. Men jumped from it,
clothes on fire. They fell until they disappeared in between the buildings.
John watched the last of fifty men walk aboard
Ma Wi Jung
. They climbed up the wing, looking around nervously.
Another detachment of mongoose-men stood on the docks, guns ready.
Clusters of bombs exploded in the streets. An Azteca blimp caught fire and
headed back out to the forest. It blazed its way down over the walls.
Several permanent stacks of smoke hung over their heads. Two of the small
Capitol City blimps dipped into the smoke to hide and wait for the next Azteca
wedge to bomb the city.
John stood up from the wing.
Time to pull his plan off.
John walked forward to the tip of the wing and addressed the mongoose-man on
the dock who had rounded up the men inside the ship. "Your men know that I,
and only I, command this? You told them what they might have to do if I need
help?" The mongoose-man nodded. "Then good luck holding the
Azteca back."
John walked back up the wing.
Pepper waited inside the cockpit. He pulled a large canvas trench coat on and
strapped knives next to either boot. "I want to repeat to you that I'm not
going in, John, I mean it. I'm staying here to make sure no Teotl gets aboard
and kills your fool ass, you understand?" All fifty mongoose-men lined the
corridor under the top air lock, crammed shoulder to shoulder.
"I understand. We dust off now," John told him.
"If we wait until night, they can't hit it with artillery. If we go right now,
they will harm it, John. I doubt she'll be able to repair herself, or if she
can, it might take many, many years for her to recover. We can't take this
risk."
John sat down on the main couch. It canted itself into a takeoff position.
"They might fall today yet, Pepper."
Pepper grabbed a fistful of John's shirt and pulled him out. "Think straight,
John,"
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John snapped his fingers. It was echoed by the sound of fifty gun safeties
releasing, then the sound of fifty guns cocking. "Fifty crack jungle warriors,
Pepper, in close quarters with guns aimed at you. You have a good chance, but
so do they."
Pepper dropped him back into the couch and punched the wall. It rippled. A
display several inches away shattered and rained to the floor.
When he pulled his fist out, the imprint remained.
Pepper sat down on the adjacent couch and put his head in his hands. "Go."
"Hang on," John yelled to the mongoose-men. "It'll be bumpy. There should be
handles in the wall.
Safety your weapons."
The
Ma Wi Jung rumbled.
"You are using a delicate interstellar ship as a cheap troop transport,"
Pepper growled.
John leaned back into the couch. Somewhere in the back of his head he began to
make a link with the ship, the half-living computer inside it. His visual
cortex lit up with an imposed world of information. This was what he did. He
was a Pilot. Only John was built to interpret this complex brew of
information.
He shut his eyes and pulled
Ma Wi Jung out of the harbor water. On the outside left-down camera he could
see water streaming down and soaking the docks.
Facing forward, he saw three blimps. Capitol City. Their heat signatures still
stood out in the heavy smoke. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]