“Trickle?” I demanded. “Any idea what they’re firing over us?”

  “No, Commander. We have reports of strange vapor trails from these launches, but when they impact there is no explosion. They appear to carry no discernible warhead.”

  “Huh… I don’t like it. Keep me apprised of things. The bears aren’t launching duds into the city for nothing.”

  Trickle signed off, and I demanded better intel from my cohort. That didn’t go over so well.

  In a normal human outfit, we’d use buzzers and scanners to learn of our surroundings. But the Blood Worlders didn’t utilize that kind of sophisticated equipment. Most of the near-humans were too damned dumb to count all their fingers without losing track.

  As I complained and demanded better recon efforts, I became aware of something I’d never suspected: my cohort had a dedicated platoon of techs as an auxiliary group.

  That was a shocker. I demanded to meet with them immediately.

  My order was relayed down the chain of command. It was grunted over and muttered about and clacked at by the squids. The Cephalopods were the backbone of my lower level officers and noncoms—but they seemed to not want to obey me in this instance.

  Finally, as the day waned into night, I demanded to see Trickle again. While I waited, the bombardment of silent, seemingly harmless projectiles continued above us. I was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery and the one about my missing techs.

  Trickle finally came to the top floor of the building I was squatting in—the twenty-fourth floor, as it were. He looked like a hound-dog who’d been kicked a few times.

  “What’s going on, Trickle?” I demanded. “Where are my techs? I know your cohort has them.”

  “Yes, sir. That is correct.”

  “Well then? Why are they so shy? Are you hiding them from me?”

  He looked furtive. That was a bad sign. When one of your squid underlings looked sneaky—well sir, that could only mean he was being sneaky. And that usually meant he was plotting your assassination.

  Accordingly, I jumped up and rushed close to him. I held a combat knife up to one of those leaky, dribbling eyeballs.

  “Talk to me, Trickle. This is your last chance.”

  “Sir, you don’t understand. The tech platoon—they don’t want to meet with you. They see you as a danger.”

  “I’m going to be a danger to you if you don’t start explaining.”

  The squid inked himself a little, and he made a flapping motion with one of his back tentacles. A signal? I thought that it was, and I prepared myself to drive home my blade. Even if they did manage to take me down, there was going to be a pile of chopped-up calamari to clean up afterward.

  To my utter surprise, I wasn’t rushed by a gang of squids or renegade heavy troopers. No, sir. Instead, I saw an army of tiny creatures approach. They came from every nook and cranny, every doorway, every windowsill and attic access that allowed entrance into this penthouse. Once gathered, they formed a full platoon of creatures of a sort I’d hoped to never lay eyes upon again.

  They were gremlins. Little guys who looked human, but were wiry with stringy arms and legs. Each was less than a meter tall, and most wore nasty grins. They were a special type of near-human from Blood World. I’d rarely seen them serve in Earth’s armed forces.

  The gremlins slunk into the room and surrounded me like so many feral cats. Lowering my blade from Trickles’ eye-groups, I began to understand his hesitancy.

  I had a long and unpleasant history with this kind of near-human, and our meetings had never resulted in anything resembling happiness.

  “Gremlins…?” I said. “They’re the ones running the buzzers? Ah, right. I get it—they’re technically competent, unlike most Blood Worlders.”

  Coming to a decision, I turned back to Trickle. “Why didn’t you tell me I had gremlins in my cohort? These guys are the best at spy-work and technical gizmos.”

  “The big-man speaks the truth,” one of the gremlins said in a weird, hissy little voice. “This is surprising. I thought this big-man never spoke wisely.”

  I turned back to him, and I grinned at the little bastard. “Your type has never understood me. I don’t hate you guys—we were just enemies back in the old days, that’s all. Now we’re all working together on the same team. I’m glad to have you aboard.”

  The gremlins gurgled and whispered among themselves. They were creeping up all over the place. I already had the idea they might have decided to rid themselves of old McGill tonight—and they had good reason to feel that way.

  You see, I’d gotten a bad rep after slaughtering hundreds of their kind back on Blood World and Ice World. But they didn’t attack immediately. It seemed that I’d thrown them for a loop what with all the compliments and the lack of instant hostility.

  After I let them grumble and fuss for a while, I walked to the open, glass-free windows. I gazed down at the city. There were no lights in the streets. I could use a few buzzers out there, scouting around.

  Turning back, I found no less than a dozen gremlins had snuck up close behind me. They were no farther away than I could kick, and they were all crouched like they were about to jump me—but they froze when I faced them again, because I had a new toy in my hands. Their tiny faces registered shock.

  I smiled, and I bounced a plasma grenade up and down a few times. They watched it, mesmerized. A few began to backtrack, but I raised a finger and placed it on the firing stud.

  “Ah-ah,” I said. “No running off now, my friends. It’s too late for that. This fuse—well, there really isn’t a fuse on this thing… Anyway, it will go off in an instant if I want it to.”

  The gremlins looked kind of freaked out. I glanced around, and I saw that old Trickle had wisely vanished.

  “Now,” I said, “any death of mine will only last about thirty minutes or so, after which I’ll be back here making sure whatever is left of your pile of little corpses is polished off with a bonfire of stick-thin bones. I think you should start listening to me.”

  They didn’t say anything. They were staring and baring their teeth under quivering lips—that’s about it.

  I made a show of putting my hand up to my ear and cupping it. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Speak, human!” one of them whispered at last.

  “All right, then. Remember, when I execute ornery subordinates in this legion—that means they’re permed. On the other hand, I’ll only be inconvenienced and pissed off if I die.”

  “More threats!” one shouted angrily.

  “All you do is make idle threats to us?” another demanded. “How is this useful?”

  “Because we’re negotiating right now,” I explained, “and my threats aren’t idle. We’re going to come to a mutual understanding—you’ll see. Just you guys and me. Just us, up-front and personal.”

  They carried on and whispered crap for a bit, but at last they settled down.

  “Tell us what you require.”

  I smiled. “To start with, I require a modicum of respect and obedience. No more working with Trickle or any of his kind to overthrow my leadership. Don’t blindly follow any squid and do his dirty work for him.”

  “You insult us. We have our own plans. No Cephalopod rules our kind—not anymore.”

  “That’s right. And that’s because of my kind. We’re the basic model—the very thing that made you. Even your genes are offshoots of mine.”

  “Insulting…” several of them muttered. “...more insults.”

  “...but still, it is the spoken truth!” shouted several others. “The big-man speaks with the weight of facts behind him. We owe no squid anything more than a prolonged death!”

  I could see I was getting through to them. The gremlins could be reasoned with—to a degree. Of course, you could never fully trust any of them—not unless you held a loaded gun to their baseball-sized heads.

  “Well?” I asked. “Do I have your support?”

  “You have our ears. What would you ask of us?”

  “I want you to do your duty. You must send out your buzzers and your scouts. Inform me concerning the position of our joint enemy—the Rigellians.”

  Lots of them laughed then.

  I squinted and looked around. “What’s so funny?”

  “Big man, you evoke pity,” one of them said. “You are so blind, despite the fact your eyes are as big as fists.”

  I spotted the speaker, and I fixed on his glass-like eyes with my own. I’d come to suspect he was their leader.

  “Explain yourself, gremlin.”

  He laughed again. “The bears are already here, you see. They encircle us, and the circle grows tighter with every hour. Before dawn, they will kill every living creature trapped in this region of the city.”

  This was news to me, and unwelcome news at that. But I didn’t let on.

  Instead, I sagely nodded my head. “Very good,” I said. “You’ve passed my first test.”

  “What? You test us? What trickery is this?”

  I laughed, long and loud. “You really think I didn’t know the bears are surrounding us? I command this cohort, fools. I just wanted to see how big of a pack of traitors you are. As I said, you passed the test.”

  They hissed and squeaked a bit. It was like being surrounded by a mass of oversized, ornery rats.

  “What do you propose to do for us?” the leader asked. “We are all about to perish here. Why should we not avenge ourselves immediately upon the fool who led us to our deaths?”

  “You won’t do that. You’re no pack of heavy troopers. You’re not that dumb.”

  “This is true, but your meaning is still unclear.”

  “What I mean is I have a plan. I’m going to beat the bears, and you’re going to help me do it.”

  They looked at each other. They still seemed unhappy. Being sneaky tricksters themselves they were harder to fool than the average fellow.

  But after complaining about me for a bit, they finally peered at me with curiosity. Was that a sliver of hope? I thought that it was.

  “What is the nature of this plan, big-man?”

  Right then, I knew I had them. I put my gauntlets on my knees, and I leaned close just like I’d seen them do. They leaned in too, looking at me with big, hungry eyes.

  At that point I began to lie, and I went big with it.

  Outside the windows, another silent shower of projectiles flew overhead. I had to wonder what they were and where they were going—but I couldn’t spare the time to worry about that right now.

  -45-

  Old Trickles’ eyes were bigger and more drippy than ever when I came down out of the building with a gaggle of whispering gremlins in my wake. No doubt Trickle had figured he’d gotten rid of one ornery James McGill—but he’d thought wrong.

  When you’re in a bad tactical situation, and doom is clearly impending, it’s best to give a whole bunch of orders. Accordingly, I got everyone hopping and skipping around, preparing for the coming assault.

  As soon as that was underway, I got on the horn to talk to Primus Collins. I relayed my situation, but failed to mention that I’d driven too deeply into enemy territory and got myself encircled.

  “You’re requesting reinforcements? In advance? They haven’t even hit you yet.”

  “That’s true, sir. But we’re in a bad way. We can’t hold back the numbers we suspect will be hitting us by morning—before that, even.”

  “What are you—?” she asked, and I saw her consulting maps. “You’re too far forward, McGill. I hereby order you to conduct an orderly withdrawal toward my position.”

  I smiled and nodded. “That’s a great idea, sir. It would have been even better if it had come a few hours ago. But I think it’s too late now. My gremlins have buzzers, and they tell me we’re surrounded.”

  She fussed and carried on about this for a bit, and I let her get it out of her system.

  “I was a fool,” she said, talking mostly to herself. “I shouldn’t have given a gorilla like you an open-ended operational command.”

  “Uh… we can still solve this, sir.”

  “How?”

  “Well, you can come to me—or at least move toward me. Then I can probably break out of this trap.”

  Collins shook her head so hard her hair did a little dance. “That’s not happening. We’ve been charged with holding this water plant. I’m not leaving it to save a cohort that’s gone rogue.”

  “Sir… you ordered us to go on a deep patrol. We’re in the middle of that action now.”

  She looked sour. “I see where this is going. You’re going to write an after-action report hanging me out to dry, aren’t you?”

  “I hope not, sir. There are other ways to fix this.”

  She showed me her teeth, but at last, she gestured impatiently for me to keep suggesting things.

  “Well, you could fly a lifter out here—or maybe a fleet of skimmers. We could rush aboard and pull out.”

  She considered that, but finally she rejected the thought. “Too risky. I don’t want to lose aircraft on top of manpower. The risk isn’t justified.”

  It was the typical calculus of war in the legions. There was nothing cheaper than troops. We were only blood, sweat, bone meal and protoplasm to the brass.

  “All right then, we’ll have to hold out—with some artillery support, perhaps?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Artillery? You’re in the middle of a city, McGill, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “That’s right. But Varus and Victrix have a lot of star-falls. And this city doesn’t belong to Earth. The area surrounding us isn’t even inhabited.”

  She showed me her teeth again. With a wild grunt of unhappiness, she threw one hand to her forehead and rubbed at her face. “All right. I’ll try to get approval to call in a heavy barrage all around your position.”

  “That would be greatly appreciated, sir.”

  “Fuck you, McGill,” she said with real feeling. “Collins, out.”

  That was it. I tried to contact her a few more times over the next hour, but I was unsuccessful.

  Finally, in the middle of the night, the skies lit up. We all gazed upward and gaped.

  This time, the bombardment wasn’t all in one direction. Yes, we could see more of those strange canisters flying—quiet projectiles from the Rigellian side arcing high and landing deep in the city.

  But there were things flying in the other direction as well this time. Streaks of light sailed overhead, moving away from the city center and toward the outskirts and the dome beyond.

  They were balls of glowing hot plasma, and they seemed to move in slow-motion. The flickering spheres were white in color, with long, bluish tails behind them. It looked like the planet was being showered by a hundred comets at once.

  But I knew this was no natural phenomenon. The star-falls had launched a volley. From the look of it, every artillery piece Earth had on City World was involved.

  “Incoming!” I roared over the cohort-wide channel. “Everyone, this is your commander. Take cover! We’re under bombardment!”

  The star-falls weren’t targeting us of course, but the gunners could still miss.

  Men shouted, heavy troopers croaked in dismay. Soon, the ground began to shake as the impacts rained down. The buildings we crouched within swayed and rumbled. One of them, the very building we’d chased the snipers out of, cracked at the midpoint and toppled. After the dust cleared, only a jagged spear of puff-crete still stood where it had once been. A hundred lives had been lost, a full unit that I’d stationed there.

  Farther out in the night, things were much worse. The artificial comets crashed down upon the buildings surrounding our neighborhood, destroying many of them. After a full minute of this abuse, the volley ceased to fall. We climbed to our feet, dug our comrades out of rubble, and called for medical aid.

  That’s about when the sky lit up once again. The second volley was on the way.

  Before that wave crashed down upon us, a new threat emerged.

  “It’s the bears, big-man!” one of my gremlin friends reported in. “They’ve figured out that our zone isn’t under fire. They’re rushing us!”

  “Troops, get your guns out! Shoot them as they come in!”

  Outside in the streets, short dark-suited figures raced toward us. There were hundreds of them. Some were injured, while others dragged their wounded comrades.

  The crack and whine of rifles began to rip up the quiet night air. In between artillery volleys, the night grew dark again—but not for long. The star-falls themselves were virtually silent until they landed and caused great destruction. In each interim, we filled the air with bullets and power-bolts.

  Caught in the open and desperate, the bears were knocked flat. They scrambled up and kept running, only to be blasted down again. Some had horrible injuries, and we didn’t make things any easier for them.

  By the time the enemy reached our buildings, I’d already set up a hot greeting at the doorways. Each bear that rushed into our strongholds for safety was grabbed and harshly dealt with.

  Power-blades were driven into their guts if an opening could be found in their armor. When it could not, the attacking soldiers were buried under a falling tower of rubble. These towers, built up by my men during the long night of waiting, crushed the life out of them—armor or no.

  They squirmed and growled and died snapping at us. There was no mercy, as we knew there would be none for us if the tables were turned.

  Eventually, it was over. Six full volleys had come crashing down out of the skies onto the neighborhoods that surrounded us. The buildings were wrecked, and the skyline was a lurid red. Flickering flames danced in a thousand broken windows.

  After the last volley and the last desperate charge by the bears out of the darkness, we waited, tense and sweating in the still night. But they didn’t come at us again.

  Soon, dawn broke, and the near-humans set up an odd, warbling cheer. It was a primitive sound, the kind of thing that hadn’t been heard on Earth for tens of thousands of years.

  The Blood Worlders were celebrating. They’d survived the night, and this was their way of welcoming the dawn.