Part 54 (1/2)

”Ouch. Yes; I concede the difference. Well... if they move faster, I guess we'll just have to speed things up. And you Cobras will have to start earning your room and board here the hard way.”

Winward grimaced. Heavily armed Qasamans... and clouds of mojos. ”Yes. I guess we will.”

Chapter 28.

York had put in a long day aboard s.h.i.+p and had looked forward to at least one good night's sleep before things heated up below. But he'd been asleep barely four hours when the intercom's pinging dragged him awake. ”Yes-York,” he mumbled. ”What is it?”

”Something happening on Qasama,” the duty officer's voice said. ”I think you'll want to see this.”

”On my way.”

Robed and barefoot, he was seated before one of the big displays in two minutes flat... and the image there was indeed worth waking him for.

”Helicopters,” he identified them to the two spotters on duty. ”Possibly with auxiliary thrusters-they're making pretty good speed. Where'd they come from?”

”We first picked them up a few kilometers east of Sollas,” the duty officer told him. ”Could have come a fair distance, though, if they'd been going slower; it was the movement we noticed first.”

”Uh-huh.” York tapped keys, watched the results appear at the bottom of the screen. Six units, flying just a bit subsonic-which didn't prove anything about their actual capabilities-heading southeast toward the Menssana's village. ETA, roughly two hours. ”Get me Governor Telek,” he said over his shoulder.

Telek had also been asleep, and by the time the Menssana's duty officer rousted her out of bed York had a bit more information. ”Two of them are fairly big, possibly implying troop carriers,” he told her. ”The other four are smaller; I'd guess reconnaissance or attack. Odds are probably good that they're converted civilian craft, instead of specifically military ones, which should be to our advantage.”

”Well, at least they don't have gravity lifts,” Telek mused. ”That's one technological edge we know we've got.”

”Not necessarily.” York shook his head. ”No one puts grav lifts on attack helicopters, whether they've got 'em or not-the things are wildly inefficient for tight, high-speed maneuvering. Besides, for nighttime applications a grav lift's glow makes you a flying bull's-eye.”

”So these are something we should worry about?”

York snorted. ”Worry and a half. We used a lot of helicopters back in the

Marines, and I've seen them chew up areas twice the size of your village.”

Telek's intercom image went tight-lipped. ”Except that they'd kill three thousand of their own people if they try that.”

”Right, and I doubt they're quite that desperate yet,” York agreed. ”And they're unlikely to hang around overhead sniping at the Cobras until they have an idea of what we've got to shoot back with.”

”So the gleaner-team stays put,” Telek said. ”But the outrider teams go to ground?”

”They certainly make themselves inconspicuous. And the Menssana gets the h.e.l.l out of there.”

”d.a.m.n.” Telek bit at her lip. ”Yeah, you're right. You think going to ground a hundred kilometers away will be safe enough?”

”The farther the better. But you've got to move fast, before they're close enough to spot your grav lifts. I don't want to find out the hard way what sort of air-to-air capability they have.”

”Good point. Captain Shepherd?”

”Three minutes to lift,” the other's voice came into the circuit. ”We've picked a tentative hiding place three hundred kilometers northwest of here, subject to your approval.”

”What, right in the path of the helicopters?” York frowned.