To his left Garroway spotted a couple of ropes uncoiling as they were tossed over the parapet and into the street at the base of the wall. An instant later two Marines appeared, the two of them rappelling down the face of the wall as the laser fire from overhead increased in intensity to a savage crescendo. They reached the stranded, injured Marines in seconds. One scooped up the unconscious Marine in his arms while the other helped the wounded one along in a one-arm carry. The enemy, seeing their prize on the point of escaping, surged forward again, venting war cries that grated eerily on the nerves like the shrill wail of steam whistles. Again the barrage of laser and plasma-gun fire from the ramparts cut them down, sending the survivors tumbling backward in headlong retreat.
More Marines were dropping down the ropes over the wall now, surrounding the rescue effort, helping the wounded personnel back toward the northern gate. The gates swung open, spilling more Marines into the kill zone to cover the retreat of their comrades.
All of this played itself out on the periphery of Garroway’s awareness. His entire universe had narrowed down to his HDO’s target picture. With the mass charge broken now and his backpack power coming back online, he’d reverted to a sniper’s role, using the magnified image on his helmet display to pick out individual Ishtarans armed with weapons more effective than spears and cutting them down. If enough of the enemy’s gauss gunners died, maybe the rest would get the idea that it was extremely unhealthy to carry those things anywhere within range of a U.S. Marine.
More minutes passed before he realized that there were no targets left he could see, and that the fire from the wall was beginning to dwindle away.
The Marine he’d seen earlier, the one with the 15mm Puller, held up a gloved hand. “Cease fire, Marines! Hold your fire!”
An eerie stillness descended over the north wall then, broken only by the crackle of flames in the kill zone, the rush of a freshening wind, and the whimperings and isolated cries of wounded Ishtarans. The Marine with the pistol reached up, unfastened the catches on his helmet, and pulled it off.
Garroway recognized him, now—the close-cropped, sandy hair, the sweat-streaked features. It was Colonel Ramsey.
He’d suspected that it might be Captain Warhurst. The idea of a regimental CO taking part in a firefight was startling, well outside the perimeter of approved doctrine in modern combat. Colonels were supposed to lead from the safety of a command center. Hell, he hadn’t even realized the Old Man was on the ground yet. TAV-S Dragonflies were still shuttling between New Sumer and orbit, bringing down the rest of the MIEU; he’d expected the command constellation to stay on board the Derna until the last possible moment.
The discovery filled Garroway with an inexplicable but undeniable surge of pride, esprit, and camaraderie, and with the feeling that he would follow Colonel Ramsey anywhere.
Damn, they were going to beat the Frogs, starship or no starship!
“Good work, Marines,” Ramsey called out, his voice booming out across the compound. “Everyone on the north wall, sound off by threes!”
“One!”
“Two!”
“Three!”
“One!…”
Each Marine in turn called off a number. Garroway was a “three.”
“Okay!” Ramsey bellowed. “Ones, stay on the wall! We’ll get recharges up to you that need them. Twos, you’re ready reserve! The rest of you, fall in down below in the courtyard. We’re going to get this walking cluster-fuck organized!”
Garroway grinned behind his helmet visor. Pretty slick…and straight out of boot camp. With a working net, an AI would have sorted the Marines out, perhaps keeping those with the most fully charged power packs on the walls while directing the rest to other duties. Without the net, they would have to rely on older, more traditional techniques—like the handwritten paper pass the civilian woman had carried earlier.
Heart pounding, he fell into line and filed down the stone steps into the courtyard, following the colonel.
Beneath the Pyramid of the Eye
Shumur-Unu
First Period of Early Light
Tu-Kur-La slipped again into the comfortable embrace of the living, sentient sea. The Abzu-il flowed softly over his skin, penetrating his ears and nostrils, seeping in through the spaces between and beneath his scales, and as key connections were made within his brain, new vistas of sight and sound and sensation unfolded within his mind.
He sensed the presence of at least two sixties of other Keepers of Memory and of the souls and awareness of the kingal, Gal-Irim-Let, of Usum-Gal, and of other elders of the An-Kin, the Council of the Gods. As more and more minds entered the far-flung organic web of the Abzu, awareness expanded, the sense of self dwindled, and Tu-Kur-La again approached the single-minded unity of consciousness of the Zu-Din, the Godmind.