099: Beseiged Day 3

January 4th, 2000

"Damn it, George, what are they waiting for?"

"They want to wear us down."

The sniping has been going back and forth for over two days now.  We have some casualties, all minor, from spalling and expended rounds.  They have fatalities. Unfortunately, they have many more men. 

"Why don't they just rush us.  They have enough to human wave us."

Leo signals with a grunt.  I give him the floor.

"They don't have the conviction."  He pound his fist into his palm.  "You need to be dedicated, wholly dedicated, to the cause to throw yourself away like that.  They may fear their commanders, but it isn't enough to convince them.  I blame American individualism."

Nervous laughter fills the room.

"See, is good for something."

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The tower's still burning.  North wind is still holding.  Fire hasn't spread so far.

Wish we could make more flaming rounds, but the stocks of catalyst are very low.  We had enough for two more rounds.  Alpha and Sterns put together another cannon.  We've got one pointing south and the second on the east side.  If we find them building up troops in a building on either side then we'll try and repeat our success from yesterday.

 No point in burning a building till then.

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I'm feeling better by the day.  If that fool gives us enough time we'll be strong enough to go with Leo's plan and take the fight to them.  Give me that time.

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I take a tour of the facility.  Our civilian dependents have been plenty busy.  I know they have as much on the line as we do, but damn is it gratifying to see them throwing in as hard as they can.  Most of them have acquired multipurpose tools for work and mayhem.  God knows they've had the time to learn how to use them.

Maybe I should have George move arms up to their area.  With Ed conscious and responsive now I have someone I can spare to oversee them.  Need to think about it.

Morale is good.  We've given much harder than we've received.  The men know how they'd take the hospital.  The fact that Hizzoner's bullies haven't shows how much better we are than them.  We can beat them.  Give me time.

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Ones

Down in the stone roots of the world, One and another and a man-thing crawl.  The image is wrong, 'man-thing' is no more a man than One, but the body is so close.  One knows the blood would be as sweet.  It's thoughts are shielded well.  Would it feel the same as a man when One fed?  Bright quicksilver fears fading into dark waters as the last of the heat left the veins.  Maybe?

A cold spike of though punctures One's back.  "Be-Have."  Yes, man-thing, not man-prey.  Two could take him, but this is not the time, not when many prey are so near.

Focusing again on their task One and another reach for the painful, bright thoughts of prey through the stones.  They scuttle together, closer and closer, with the stranger stumbling behind.  It cannot feel the surroundings as they do, instead it brings its own light, dull and red.  They wait on it.

Hard to share thoughts with it.  It's shields are strong.  If they weren't it would be prey.  A prickle at one's back reminds One not to think on such things.

"Hic locus est?," It mutters to itself.  "Venire diu tulimus."  Like unshriven it burbles nonsensically to itself.  It will never be made right.  It is not One's task to make it right.  One tries to communicate distance; close, near, touchable, just above.

Jones sighs unhappily.  Right through the ceiling.  It is a long way to haul the explosives.  Never mind, he will do it.  Breach the floor and let the Bloodkin and their surviving shriven animals inside.  Let Paterson's men focus on the enemy within.  Then the one without can fall on them.  Yes, a good plan.  

With any luck the Bloodkin will die as well.  Their hunger, so carefully hidden, is visible every time their ugly yellow eyes fall on him.  He isn't food.