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Twenty or more legworms crept-or so it looked in the distance- in three columns across the contest field toward the Bulletproof camp.
Valentine took comfort in the thick length of legworm between him and the Wildcats. It was like shooting from a moveable wall. He thought of stories he'd read of fighting warships, their lines of cannons presented to each other. In naval terminology, the Bulletproofs were "crossing the T" against the oncoming Wildcats.
The Dispatcher's legworm followed theirs, and the one behind his let loose with a whooshing sound.
"The pipe organ's firing!" Gibson yelled. "Yeeeah!"
Streams of sparks cut down the hillside and exploded in the earth among the columns. The Wildcat legworms began to turn and get into line to present their own bank of rifles to the Bulletproofs, but the mounts kept trying to get away from the explosions.
Machine guns from the front Wildcat legworms probed their line, red tracers reaching for the riders. Another Wildcat firework burst above and Valentine felt the legworm jump, but it had overshot.
The Bulletproof column accelerated. Zak employed his sharpened hook to urge the legworm along and close the gap that opened between his mount and the one ahead. Zak still had his rifle slung; his job was to keep his beast in line, not fight.
Now the two masses of legworms, the Bulletproofs tightly in line and moving quickly, the Wildcats' in an arrowhead-shaped mob, converged.
Ahn-Kha sighted and fired. "Damn," he said, loading another shell. He shot again. "Got him."
A legworm in the Wildcats turned and others writhed to follow or to avoid its new course. Ahn-Kha picked off another driver.
"That's some kind of shooting," Cookie said. Ahn-Kha ignored him, fired again, swore.
The front end of the Bulletproof column began to fire. It had run ahead of the Wildcats; the marksmen got an angle on the exposed riders clinging to the right sides of their mounts.
The Wildcat column dissolved into chaos. Each legworm turned and hurried back toward their camp as fast as the hundreds and hundreds of legs could carry their riders.
Cheers broke out all across the Bulletproof line.
"That's how you win a scrap!" Gibson said. "Tight riding. Damn if Mandvi can't point a column."
"It's because we were ready for them," Zak said, nodding to Valentine.
"Cease fire," Cookie shouted, radio headset still to his ear- though no one but Ahn-Kha was shooting. The Wildcats retreated in disorder.
Valentine hadn't used a single bullet.
* * * *
More rounds of Bulletproof were being issued as riders danced jigs. Other legworms, still with armed riders, circled the barn at a distance, though the scouts had claimed that the Wildcats were decamping and heading for higher ground to the east.
"Zak, I take it you're willing to give our friends a ride north, now," the Dispatcher said. "And if you aren't, I'll make it an order."
"Of course I'm willing. I'm willing to dig a hole to hell if that's where they want me to drive my worm."
"Your sister can go watch your string," the Dispatcher said.
"Wormcast." Tikka kicked a stone.
Duvalier hung on Valentine's arm, but it was play; she felt stiff as a mannequin. "Better luck next time."
"What's your destination over the Ohio?"
"We're trying to find an old relative," Valentine said. "She's come up in the world, and we're going to see if she'll set us up."
"Take Three-Finger Charlie, Zak," the Dispatcher said. "He's got connections with the smugglers. Tell him to trade egg hides if he has to, I want these folks set up so they can pass through the Ohio Ordnance in style."
Hoffman Price led his mule into the circle of revelers. "I was scavenging for mule shoes. He found a mess of wild carrots, and they were fat and sweet so I pulled up a bushel."
"You missed-" Zak began.
