Uller Uprising · Chapter 9 (2/2)

“Make the most of it, boys,” Barney Mordkovitz, his mouth full of sandwich, was saying. “Heave it to them; you won’t get another chance like that at those buggers.”

“Why not?” Colonel Paula Quinton wanted to know. Her military education was progressing, but it still had a few gaps to fill in.

“The next time they’re air-struck, they won’t stay bunched,” Mordkovitz replied. “A lot of them didn’t stay bunched this time, if you noticed. And they’ll keep out from between the fences.”

In the large screen, a quick succession of gun-flashes leaped up from the direction of the Hoork River and shells began bursting over the scene of the attack. The screen tuned to the pickup on the airjeep went dead; in the big screen, there was a twinkling of falling fire. Almost at once, thirty or forty rocket-trails converged on the gun-position, and, for a moment, explosions burned like a bonfire.

“They had a 75 mm at the rear of the column,” somebody called from the big switchboard. “Lieutenant Kalanang’s jeep was hit; Lieutenant Vermaas is cutting in his pickup on the same wavelength.”

The small screen lighted again. In the big screen, a cluster of magnesium-lights appeared above where the Skilkan gun had been; in the small screen, there was a stubbled grainfield, pocked with craters, and the bodies of fifteen or twenty natives, all rather badly mangled. An overturned and apparently destroyed 75 mm gun lay on its side.

Five or six fairly large fires had broken out, by this time, around the point of attack. Von Schlichten nodded approvingly.

“I was wondering how long it’d take somebody to think of that,” he said. “Granaries and forage-stacks on some of these farms. They’ll burn for half an hour, at least.” He looked at his watch. “And by that time, it’ll be daylight.”

“As far as we know, that was the only 75 mm gun Firkked had,” Colonel Cheng-Li said. “He has at least six, possibly ten, 40 mm’s. It’s a wonder we haven’t seen anything of them.”

“Well, there’s no way of being sure,” Jules Keaveney said, “but I have an idea they’re all at or around the Palace. Firkked knows about how much contragravity we have. He’s probably wondering why we aren’t bombing him, now.”

“He doesn’t know we’ve sold the Palace to King Jonkvank for an army,” von Schlichten said. “And that reminds me⁠—how much contragravity could Firkked scrape together, for an attack on us? I’ve been expecting a geek Luftwaffe over here, at any moment.”

Colonel Cheng-Li studied the smoking tip of his cigarette for a moment. “Well, Firkked owns, personally, three ten-passenger aircars, a thing like a troop-carrier that he transports some of his courtiers around in, four airjeeps armed with a pair of 15 mm machine-guns apiece, and two big lorries. There are possibly two hundred vehicles of all types in Skilk and the country around, but some of them are in the hands of natives friendly to us and or hostile to Firkked. I can get the exact figures from the Constabulary office at Company House.”

“That’s close enough,” von Schlichten told him. “And there’ll be oodles of thermoconcentrate-fuel, and blasting explosives. Colonel Quinton, suppose you call Ed Wallingsby, the Chief Engineer, right away; have him commissioned colonel. Tell him to get to work making this place secure against air attack; tell him to consult with Colonel Jarman. Tell him to get those geeks Leavitt has penned in the repair-dock at the airport and use them to dig slit-trenches and fill sandbags and so on. He can use Kragan limited-duty wounded to guard them.⁠ ⁠… Mr. Keaveney, you’ll begin setting up something in the way of an A.R.P.-organization. You’ll have to get along on what nobody else wants. You will also consult with Colonel Jarman, and with Colonel Wallingsby. Better get started on it now. Just think of everything around here that could go wrong in case of an air attack, and try to do something about it in advance.”