A hundred-yard section of the barrier was down in flames, and the
great, bobbing, leggy shapes of stompers came bounding through it while
others glided down from the top. Flyers swarmed like angry bees around
the top of the break, firing mounted blasters and tearing away great
masses of wood. The powerful chord of music swelled unendurably in
volume and exultant richness until Cole cried out and shook the girl.
"It plucks at my backbone and I can't think! Pia, Pia, what _is_ that
music?"
"It's the stompers singing," she shouted back.
He shook his head. Bidgrass Station seethed, lights everywhere, roads
crowded with trucks. Around the base of the breakthrough a defense
perimeter flared with the blue-violet of blasters and the angry red
of flame guns. As Cole watched it was overrun and darkened in place
after place, only to reform further out as reserves came into action.
Expanding jerkily, pushed this way and that, the flaming periphery
looked like a fire-membrane stressed past endurance by some savage
contained thing. With a surge of emotion Cole realized it was men down
there, with their guns and their puny muscles and their fragile lives
against two-legged, boat-shaped monsters twenty feet high.
"Sheer power of biomass," he thought. "Even their shot-down bodies are
missiles, to crush and break." A sudden eddy in the flaming defense
line brought it to within half a mile of the house. Cole could see men
die against the glare, in the great music.
The girl pressed close to him and whimpered, "Oh, start the fire mist!
Morwenna pity them!" Cole put his arm tightly around her.
A truck convoy pulled up by the manor house and soldiers were
everywhere, moving quickly and surely. A group hauled a squat, vertical
cylinder on wheels crashing through the ornamental shrubbery. Violet
glowing metal vaning wound about it in a double helix.
"It's a Corbin powercaster," Pia shouted into Cole's ear. "It
broadcasts power to the portable blasters so the men don't need to
carry pack charges or lose time changing them."
Cole looked at the soldiers. The same big men he saw every day, the
same closed and hostile faces, but now a wild and savage joy shone in
them. This was their human meaning to themselves, their justification.
The red boundary roared down on them, they would be dying in a few
minutes, but they were braced and fiercely ready.
The music swelled impossibly loud and Cole knew that he too was going
to die with them, despised outworlder that he was. He hugged the girl
fiercely and tried to kiss her.
"Let me in your world, Pia!" he cried.
She pulled away. "Look! The fire mist! Oh thank you, good Morwenna!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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