Analog SFF, April 2010 Read Online Free Page B

evaluated the terrain, looked at the enemy with their armor and swords, and made his decision. Experience told him that the people in the city should be settlers, and the attackers hostiles. Moreover, the attackers gave every sign of having decided to attack the cavalry as well. His company's horses were tired, there were only about one hundred men all told in the company against what seemed four or five times that number of attackers, and he wasn't about to have his soldiers trade saber blows with a mass of men wearing armor. “Lieutenant Garret, Sergeant Tyndall, form two dismounted lines of battle."
    Tyndall saluted, turned to face the cavalry, and bellowed his commands. “Company B, dismount! Form line of battle, first platoon front, second platoon rear!” The commands echoed along the cavalry ranks, the cavalrymen pulling their Sharps carbines from their saddle scabbards and dismounting. One of every four took control of four horses, leading them back a ways to where the wagons waited, while the remaining three soldiers fell into two long, open lines facing the enemy, the front rank kneeling and the second rank standing, each man about a yard from the men to the left and right of him. Less than a minute after Tyndall had shouted the orders, the cavalry was arrayed for battle.
    Benton remained on his horse, riding slowly along the line. “Uncase the colors.” Canvas tubes came off the swallow-tailed guidon of the 5th Cavalry regiment and the flag of the United States of America, the banners unfurling to flap proudly in the breeze.
    The oncoming horsemen were less than half a mile away, increasing their speed to a gallop. “They're going to wear out them horses, charging that hard that far,” Tyndall observed, apparently unconcerned. He'd fought at Gaines’ Mill in the War of the Rebellion, and since then in dozens of other battles and skirmishes. This was just one more.
    Benton raised his empty hand again. “Halt! We are United States Cavalry.” He doubted those charging toward the cavalry could hear him over the sound of their own horses, and in any case the attackers seemed oddly unconcerned by the steady lines of carbines facing them.
    Drawing his pistol, Benton waited as the horsemen grew closer, the earth shaking from the pounding of their horses’ hooves. “Mark your man and aim your shots,” he called, riding slowly across the back of the second line of dismounted cavalry. “Standby. First Platoon, fire!"
    The kneeling rank fired their weapons in a rippling volley, immediately afterward breaking open their carbines to eject the spent cartridge from the breech and reload as Benton called out his next order. “Second Platoon, fire!"
    The shortest pause to allow the first rank to finish loading. “First Platoon, fire!"
    "Second Platoon, fire!"
    The volleys crashed out and the horses of the attackers went wild, bucking frantically, bolting and panicking. Armored men fell everywhere, some dead or wounded from hits by the heavy .50 caliber carbine bullets, other losing their seats and being hurled from the saddle by horses gone berserk. The attack had dissolved into total chaos, the survivors of the first four volleys fleeing as fast as they or their mounts could tear across the landscape.
    "Company B, cease fire!"
    Sergeant Tyndall stared at the remnants of the attack, shaking his head. “It's like those horses had never heard a shot fired, cap'n.” His horse, like all cavalry mounts, had been trained not to flinch at the sound of gunshots. “And why can't those men keep their seats?” Then his expression cleared. “They don't have stirrups. Just like Indians. But those ain't any Indians I ever saw."
    Looking past the ruin of the mounted charge, Benton could see the infantry that had been assailing the city frantically coming down off of their ladders and running through their camp, not to form a defensive line but away from the cavalry, joining their mounted comrades in panicked flight.
    Sergeant