Read The City Who Fought for Free Online Page B

little back from the edge of the combat, hull down; the general stood head-and-shoulders out of the commander's cupola. The turret pivoted under him, the massive casting moving smoothly on its bearing race. The long cannon fired in a flash that seared his vision, just as the opening salvos of artillery went by overhead. Down along the road, tall poplar-shapes of black dirt gouted skyward. Another explosion shook the earth and sent heavy vehicles pinwheeling like a child's models under a careless boot; the command-tank's round had hit the tracked carrier for a Unionist self-propelled gun.
    The general nodded. "Nothing to stop us short of the Lakes," he said. Nothing to stop them linking up with the British Guards Armored Corps, driving southeast out of occupied Detroit, cutting the Union in two. . . .

    * * *
"Conceded," Florian Gusky said, and lifted the visor of the simulation helmet. He sighed heavily and took a pull of his beer, then looked around the room as though surprised to find himself alone with Simeon, blinking away the consciousness of a world and war that had never been. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his heavy-browed face and he worked the thick muscles of his shoulders to loosen the tension.
    "You could play it out to the end," Simeon's image said from a screen above his desk.
    "No dam' point. You've whipped my butt in that simulation twice, from both Union and Confederate sides."
    "I could take a handicap," Simeon said with much less enthusiasm, Gus noted.
    So he nodded. The last time he had beaten Simeon was in a Caesar vs. Rommel match on the site of Carthage, with the shellperson commanding Caesar's spear-armed host against Panzers and Stukas.
    Even then he had inflicted embarrassing casualties.
    "Where is she?" Gus asked. There was no need to identify the female in question.
    "She's dining at the Perimeter."
    Gus raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "The Perimeter? That's some salary she gets." The Perimeter attracted two sets of guests: the rich, and spacers looking to blow six months' pay on one night.
    Simeon laughed. "Nah, she's a guest of the management. Patsy's with her."
    "Yeah, Patsy likes her," Gus said, his tone indicating that this revealed a serious and heretofore unsuspected flaw in Patsy's character. "Can you see them?"
    "Yup."
    "What're they doing?"
    "Talking."
    "About us?"
    "I don't know. I'm not listening. Now they're laughing."
    "They're talking about us, alright," Gus said gloomily.
    "Geesh, Gus, let's get back to the game."
    There was a plaintive edge to Simeon's voice. Gus reached for the helmet and then stopped, a slow grin creasing his heavy features.
    "Isn't it about time we had a drill?" he said, thoughtfully.
    "We just had one. About four hours ago, remember?"
    "When I was in the Navy we had 'em six times a day, sometimes," Gus replied.
    He knew that Simeon badly wanted to pull Navy duty. Only a few staff-and-command vessels used shell controllers and Simeon didn't rate, yet. In the meantime, he put a lot of weight on Gus' experience as a fire-control officer on a patrol frigate. That had been some time ago—Florian Gusky had spent a decade's hard work clawing his way up to regional security chief for Namakuri-Singh, the big drive-systems firm—but Simeon had a bad case of military romanticism. And real talent, he told himself without envy of the brain's abilities.
    "I know it's early," Gus went on persuasively, "but it's important not to have predictable intervals. So we don't get complacent."
    "Well . . ."
    "I'd love to see the look on their faces."
    "Since you put it that way—"

    * * *
    Channa started as the klaxons rang. They sounded like no other she had ever heard, a harsh repeated ouuuuga-ouuuuga sound. The elegant minuet of movement among the waiters turned to an inelegant but efficient scramble for the exits; some moved to assist guests. Thick slabs hissed up out of the floor along the outer wall and the lights flared bright.
    "BREACH IN THE PRESSURE HULL!" a