The Triumphant by Keith Laumer

Author:Keith Laumer [Laumer, Keith]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-05-13T15:55:38.161000+00:00

rightly care. You’re a friend. You want I should let these yahoos get

themselves lost in th’ bush? Reckon it’d take ’em four, five hours t’find

you with the directions I c’n give ’em.”

“No. I appreciate the offer, but you’d better stay out of this.”

“Huh. Well, how ’bout I waste an hour or so ’fore I find ’em

transport? I already set that ’un up.”

“If you can do it without being obvious, please do,” Merrit said

gratefully. “After that, though, you’d better go home and keep as far

away from any official involvement as you can.”

“Iffen you say so, boy.” The old man hesitated a moment, then shook

his head. “Gotta tell you, Paul—they’s somethin’ squirrely goin’ on here.

Can’t put m’finger on it, but I c’n feel it. You watch yerself, hear?”

“I will. Thanks again.” Merrit nodded to the pickup and killed the

circuit, then leaned back and fidgeted in his chair. He started to key his

link to Nike, then sat back and put his hands in his lap. There was no

point worrying her, and she was just likely to argue if he told her he

wanted her to stay out of sight. He shook his head. No, much better to

leave her in blissful ignorance as long as possible.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, and fear fluttered in the

pit of his belly.

“I sure hope to hell your ‘associates’ have managed to ‘deal’ with that

Bolo, Mister Scully,” Colonel Granger muttered.

“Amen,” someone muttered from the recesses of the big transport’s

CIC, and Gerald Osterwelt shrugged.

“You’ve seen the plan, Colonel,” he said mildly. “I can’t blame you

for worrying, but I certainly wouldn’t be here if I didn’t expect it to

work.”

“I can believe that,” the colonel muttered to herself, and turned away

from the glowing tactical display. The single aspect of the plan she most

disliked was the tight timing. They were scheduled to hit the planet

within two hours of Colonel Sanders’ arrival, and she didn’t like it a bit.

It would take less than fifteen minutes for an air car to reach the

maintenance depot from the field, and Sanders could burn the Bolo’s

command center in less than ten once he got it shut down, so if all went

according to schedule, two hours was an ample cushion. But if things

didn’t go as scheduled—if they got there too soon, before the Bolo went

down, and its commander—

She clenched her teeth and commanded herself to stop worrying over

what she couldn’t change. Besides, Scully was right in at least one

respect. The Bolo commander—this Captain Merrit—had to be among

the fatalities, because if he wasn’t, the fact that someone had fixed the

Bolo would be glaringly evident. But the same thing would be true if

anyone on the planet happened to com Central—or anyone else offplanet—and casually mention the presence of “Dinochrome Brigade

officers” on Santa Cruz at the same moment a “pirate raid” just happened

to hit it.

They had to take out the planet’s com sat relays as the opening gambit

of their attack, anyway, because if there were so much as a single Navy

destroyer anywhere within jump range of Santa Cruz and a message got

out, it could blow all three of Matucek’s Marauders’ starships to scrap.

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