Assignment: Avalon

Chapter Nine: Death from the Sky

Lieutenant Chon's face appeared on Strator Artega's bedside vidscreen. For once it wasn't pale, even in the flaring light of a military tent-torch. "Good news, Strator!" he announced, beaming. "We have them! A scout stumbled on one of their patrols and tracked it back to an unmapped village in a valley not far from here. Your orders, Strator?"

At last, Artega thought. At last! "How long will it take your troops to get there?"

"Two days, Strator."

"Too long. There's always the possibility they spotted your man." Artega frowned, thinking. "I'll order a Skyforce strike for tomorrow morning. Move in and mop up as soon as possible."

"Yes, Strator!"

"Skandar?"

"I heard, Strator," said the AI. "Time of attack?"

"Mid-morning. I want to make sure they're up and about." He smiled. "I want to them to know what hit them."

"Yes, Strator."

"Good night, Skandar."

"Good night, Strator."

Artega yawned and went back to a sleep suddenly full of pleasant dreams.

#

Morning came far too early for Tor, in his own bunk barely three hours after yet another night in Lady Moldar's townhouse. The woman is insatiable, he thought, rolling over in bed with a groan, the clang of the wake-up bell ringing counterpoint to the throbbing in his head. And he thought he'd pulled a muscle in his lower back...

Patrol Leader Levof pounded on the side of his bunk. "Rise and shine, Skyforcer," he said. "No more searching for terrorists today. Groundforce found 'em."

That brought Tor wide awake and upright, despite the stab of pain in his back. "What?"

"Orders from Skandar. We're to take 'em out. And I'd like you to fly my right wing." Levoff grinned. "We've both got a score to settle, don't we?"

"Parl," Tor said. "Thank you, sir!"

"Get a move on. Breakfast in five minutes and mission briefing in thirty. We take off at 0930."

It wasn't until Tor was already in his flight leathers and jogging to the mess hall that it occurred to him to wonder where Kyla was. The thought that she might be on the receiving end of his guns today stabbed his heart with a pain every bit as sharp as the one in his lower back.

Her choice, he thought grimly. She has to live with the consequences.

As did he.

#

Melodan swung her scythe furiously, felling a big swath of wheat but also earning an angry glance from Tara, working to her left. Melodan ignored her.

Three weeks! she thought bitterly. Three weeks on Avalon, with the Preceptorate setting its claws deeper and deeper into the system, and all she had done was farm. Everyone except Tara seemed to have accepted her, but still, Rand refused to help her and had her watched so closely there was no hope of sneaking out of the valley and trying on her own.

It was intolerable, especially now when she had a possible way to get into the Spaceport. She paused and glanced through a windbreak of trees into the next field, where Kyla worked. She had said nothing to Kyla of her thoughts—the younger girl preferred not to talk about her brother. But she was sure once she knew how important it was...

But before she could approach Kyla, she had to convince Rand, and Rand wouldn't listen. She took another violent swipe at the golden wheat. She was a pilot, not a farmhand!