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high in the water or hammering the armored roofs of the bridging pontoons.
Occasionally a tug is hit and explodes in bright flame, or listing is forced
back. But still the long bridges, link by link, drive toward an enemy stunned
by bombardment, confused and cut off by attacks in their rear.
The first bridge to be completed, because it was unopposed, links government
forces with Landro's Escaliers, and government mercenaries roll to the attack
in an attempt to expand their bridgehead. Other bridges are, with much
greater difficulty, at length fixed in position. Crossings begin, against
ferocious opposition.
"Yes, Triumvir." Constantine presses a gold headset to one ear as he replies
to Parq's pleas. "We are doing our utmost to get the bridges across to
Lorkhin.
He winces, then holds the headphone some distance from his ear. Parq's
hysterical voice, released from the cup of Constantine's ear, cries its
distress to the room.
The Dalavan Guard have stalled on the Island, cohesion broken, the soldiers
huddling in whatever cover they can find. Parq screams for Constantine to
rescue them.
"We will reinforce," Constantine reassures. "I guarantee it, Triumvir.
Aiah suspects that the bridges trying to reach Lorkhin may be used more for
retreat than for reinforcement.
The Provisional command seems disorganized and slow to respond, but their
mercenary troops are all good soldiers, more experienced than the expanded
Caraqui army, and the response of the individual units is professional enough.
Government casualties mount. Storms of blistering fire are hurled against
Landro's Escaliers and the bridgehead. And then in another part of the line
entirely, near the border with Lanbola a tentative breakthrough occurs. A
clear pathway to the enemy rear opens. All enemy reserves are already
committed against the Escaliers there is nothing to stop government forces
from slicing into enemy territory and cutting them off from all support but
somehow there is a breakdown on the bridge-tunnel, and reinforcements cannot
be got across in any quantity.
"What... hideous .. . treachery . .." Constantine's eloquence deserts him
as he watches the impediments multiply, one after another. Aiah watches him
roar, pump fists into the air, pace manically back and forth. There is a mad
desperation in his eyes; he is reliving, Aiah thinks, some nightmare from his
past, from Cheloki, some other plan that failed. Engineers work frantically
on the bridge. Officers are shouting words like "utmost" and "at all costs.
"Done," someone reports.
"Roll them!" Constantine cries, and communication techs bend over their boards
to give the orders.
Constantine sags, fists planted on a table, head bent. The nightmare, for the
moment, has been averted. Aiah feels an impulse to walk over and comfort him.
But he thinks of her first. His head comes up, and then he turns to Aiah,
straightens, and walks over to her. "I would like your agreement at this
point," he says. "Karlo's Brigade has been in reserve all day. I would like
to send them across the bridge and have them finish this war once and for
all.
"Yes," Aiah says. "Of course." She rises, and blackness invades her vision.
She sways from sheer weariness, reaches a hand toward her chair for support.
"I want to go to them.
Constantine's hand closes firmly on her shoulder. "Do not, I beg you," he
says. "You will contribute nothing to their effort, and your presence will
only distract them. After things have settled, perhaps, a visit would be in
order.
Her will is not strong enough to resist. "May I speak to General Ceison on
the phone?
"Of course. If he can be found.
He can't: apparently the brigade is already in motion. Aiah sits. Weariness
swims through her mind.
"Miss?" Aiah looks up to find a smiling, white-jacketed steward looking down
at her. "May I get you a sandwich? A salad? Coffee?
Aiah wonders how many shifts it has been since she last ate.
"All three," she decides.
The steward smiles. "Right away, miss.
Aiah watches the video while she eats and forgets to taste the food. Some of
the images are being fed in from the bridgehead, showing vehicles filled with
soldiers rolling out of the bridge-tunnel into newly won territory. And then,
directly in front of the camera, someone flashes into existence from out of
nothing, popping right onto the roadway. He is small and slight,
shaggy-haired, with strange tall ears, and he carries a long glittering blade.
He looks about, bewildered, for a second, and then one of the armored vehicles
rolls him down.
Aiah stares for a moment at the strange, fated apparition. A teleport gone
wrong, she thinks; someone popped a twisted person right into the war, armed
only with a big knife.
Other, more jittery, images come from the front itself. The door is no longer
open the enemy have used the delay to reorganize their defense but a strong
push should finish them.
And then artillery begins to rain down on the bridgehead. A storm of plasm
fire unfolds. Aiah can sense the attack losing momentum.
No! she thinks. Not now.
Constantine stands transfixed below the video images, big hands flexing
helplessly at his sides. The nightmare is enfolding him again.
The vehicles rolling into the bridgehead slow, come to a halt. The
bridge-tunnel itself is being hit repeatedly. Aiah watches as the attack's
momentum fades.
And then she looks up as Sorya, in her green uniform, comes striding into the
command center. She is grim-faced, and flanked by a pair of aides. Without
giving Aiah a glance, Sorya walks to Constantine and speaks without
hesitation.
"Most of that gunfire directed against the bridgehead," she says, "is not from
the Provisional forces most of their stuff has been suppressed. The firing is
from the Lanbolan army, their regular forces. They're firing at us from over
the border, trying to seal off our breakthrough.
In the sudden silence, Aiah can see calculations flickering through
Constantine. "The rest of their army?
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