Sprinting across the open field, MacArthur realized there was no hope for the officer. Over the bedlam of konish fire, he heard humans firing—the loud, cracking explosions of assault rifles and the higher pitched snaps from Lieutenant Buccari's carbine. He counted at least five carbine reports alone—too many shots! They were still firing from the lodge as answering laser pulses and cannon rounds sang overhead. MacArthur could see the effect of the konish barrage, raking and exploding against wood and stone. He glanced over his shoulder. The guard towers were gone! The stockade walls that had supported them were engulfed in a licking yellow inferno, but four Marines were on the ground sprinting his way. As he passed the main lodge, the roof exploded in flames with laser beams and artillery shell explosions fueling the fire like so many bellows gusts. Burning chunks of wood sailed through the air, sizzling and clattering to the ground. He stopped, frozen with grief.
Chastain dashed up and yanked MacArthur's arm, forcibly pulling him into a run. MacArthur ran dumbly for twenty more strides and then stopped to look back at the lodge, his stomach knotted and his head spinning. A shutter in the rock wall burst open. Ugly black smoke billowed forth as two fast-moving figures clambered through the opening and hit the ground running. Adrenaline flushed MacArthur' s body. His entire being soared with exhilaration. He turned and sprinted along with the others until they made the rear gate. All made it, except for Ensign Hudson.
* * *
Longo gained the stockade in time to see humans running out the rear gate. His soldiers fired at their backs, but their power packs had been drained by the assault barrage. None of the infantry cannon hit the mark. He cantered through tumbling smoke, past the burning gates and into the compound. He surveyed the gutted lodge, noting with satisfaction that nothing could have survived the roaring flames consuming its structure. A subaltern trotted up to him.
"Four of our soldiers are dead or dying, Colonel. Six are wounded—two seriously," the subaltern reported. "All blaster units need to be recharged. We are vulnerable."
"At least it is warm for a change," Longo muttered. All around him the settlement roared with the flames of destruction. These aliens were turning out to be considerable adversaries. He had badly underestimated them. "Did we do any damage?" he asked.
"Yes, Colonel," the subaltern reported. "One is gravely injured at the gate. It will probably die. The one called Huhsawn."
Longo smiled. "Ah! A small victory," said Longo, "but a victory, nevertheless. Have the blaster soldiers form up and return to the landers. Recharge the blaster packs and bring them back as soon as you can. Order reinforcements down, armed with cannon and small bore. We have enough blasters. Take the alien back to the lander and see what can be done to keep it alive. A hostage may prove useful."
* * *
Brappa sailed overhead, lifted by hot updrafts. He slipped against the press of the thermals and surveyed the activity. The battle had been brief, but every settlement building was in flames. A column of loping bear people hurried along the beach in the direction of their ships. A clutch of wounded soldiers straggled more slowly. Bear people still in the settlement were taking positions along the palisade's remaining back wall. Two huge soldiers slipped through the sally gate and were tentatively crossing the stretch of cleared land.
Brappa lifted his gaze uphill. The long-legs had arrived at their rendezvous point and were retreating in good order. Brappa could see the heavily laden horses and the broad figure of a bear-person. Brappa wondered at the wisdom of accepting the bear-person into their ranks, and of taking the horses. All would be easy to track.
Long-leg death-sticks cracked. Brappa observed puffs of smoke at the edge of the forest. One of the bear people went down, and a blend of thunderous explosions sounded as the bear people unleashed a volley of return fire. Trees disintegrated in crackling flames and explosions, but Brappa caught sight of two long-legs sprinting and dodging through the incinerated boughs. He was not surprised to recognize Brave-crazy-one and Short-one-who-leads.
* * *
Tatum helplessly observed the black pall of smoke above the settlement. Intervening ridges blocked his view, and he could only guess at the magnitude of destruction. Tatum slid from the steep ridge of the glacial moraine and returned to the cave. A single large entrance and two narrow clefts provided access to its multiple chambers. He climbed over the boulders obscuring the main entrance. A rivulet of glacier melt ran nearby. The nearest arm of the imposing blue-green glacier was only three hundred meters away—an icy chill testifying to its proximity. The glacier's physical splendor was reflected on the surface of the moraine lake, whose silty emerald waters meandered beneath and past the boulder-shrouded cave entrance, narrowing and draining into the lake valley below. The cascades of the upper falls were just below the hunting camp, and the noise of the falling water thundered in the background.