Read Online The Veiled Threat by Alan Dean Foster - Free Book Online Page B

sudden whine made him look up again, and this time he had to throw himself to one side as a huge multibladed hand descended toward him. It cut through the air above his diving body before neatly slicing the vacant guard station in half. The upper portion of the small building promptly collapsed in on itself. Disdaining the open gate, Macerator advanced by cutting his own opening in the double fence. When his bladed hand contacted the electrified wire that ran between the two outer barriers, a violent electrical discharge flared briefly as it was shorted out, blinding the aghast mercenary. His weight shaking the earth, Macerator followed Dropkick onto the grounds of the vast supply depot.
    As the delivery truck motored past where he was lying, a dazed Vashrutha could see that it carried armed men and not beer. They were cheering and laughing as they saw the missing gate and the nearby section of destroyed fencing. One of them hopped off the back of the truck, ran to the collapsed guard station, picked up Vashrutha’s television, and hurried back to rejoin his comrades. The mercenary did not try to stop the theft. He had done all that he could do.
    Except quit, which he proceeded to announce by climbing to his feet and running as fast as he could for the nearby forest.
    At the far end of the storage yard a gathering of private security guards and other mercenaries were already rushing in the direction of the main gate. Some were on foot while others rode electric carts. The gate that provided access to the west side of the compoundopened to admit several squadrons of regular Zambian troops. Caught by surprise by the first general alarm in the history of the complex, some of the men were half dressed. Those on foot struggled to pull on their boots. Their more prepared comrades rode in jeeps and Humvees. Several of the latter were equipped with heavy machine guns. Additional support was provided by a pair of tank-like vehicles that mounted heavy anti-aircraft guns instead of the usual howitzer.
    Arriving from a different direction and responding to the urgency of the alarm, a third such vehicle decided to sacrifice protocol in favor of speed as it ignored the south gate and bashed its way through the fence line to join the hastily assembling response force.
    Shots began to ring out as the rebels in the truck and jeep engaged the first defenders. While the attackers were more heavily armed than the supply depot’s security guards, the equation soon changed as mercenaries and soldiers arrived to join the battle. With several of their members hit, the invaders were forced to fall back.
    Their retreat did not last long.
    Plowing forward, Macerator smashed his way through piles of supplies, scattering building materials in all directions. Security operatives fled before him, but not the rapidly growing group of mercenaries and army troops. Despite the absence of a direct chain of command linking them, in the face of a common threat the two groups joined forces with admirable speed.
    “Major Ghiwa, get your men under cover behindthose beams!” a mercenary officer named du Hoit yelled.
    The Zambian officer hesitated, then nodded in response. “See if your people can get around behind this thing. We will try to hold it until you can flank.”
    The mercenary snapped a quick salute. “
Ja ek weet …
okay! Be sure your people stay under cover. We don’t want any of you caught in the line of fire.” Whirling, he raced off to rally his fellow hirelings, shouting commands above the gunfire in a raw mixture of English and Afrikaans.
    Ghiwa hurriedly withdrew his forces to the indicated position. “Get that machine gun set up!” he roared. “Where are the RPGs?” Looking to his left as he ran for shelter, he cursed in several tribal languages as well as English. “And where the devil is that heavy armor?”
    The two anti-aircraft tanks were on their way with the third coming up fast behind, but unlike soldiers on foot they had to