Danton had nothing to say. He had thought in a similar way more than once.
Van Ness said, "Wrong, Keith. We've committed ourselves, and now we have to go on to the end of the road."
The words drifted with the wind across the glassy lake. You walked along the road, Danton thought, while the road was visible and you walked it to the end. And neither road nor the end was your own choice. Maybe the only glory was in walking it bravely. But maybe, as Keith had said, they had been on the wrong road. The Oligarchs, had they conquered, would have always provided an honorable place for a soldier. Banners, flags, women, the rise of battle fever, the ecstatic explosions of power, the enemy dead.
Keith fired once into the forest wall. A shape fluttered away over the tops of the trees, then fell, crying at first, then screaming like a woman. "We've been followed by those things for about a mile along the shore edge," Keith said. "They don't seem friendly. They're intelligent. Big, with wings, and old-style weapons. Very old. Explosive powder stuff."
"Martians," said Van Ness.
Danton said, "I caught a look at some human beings just before we hit the lake. Maybe I was seeing things that weren't, but there seemed to be ancient amtracs, old-style cannon, marching men."
Keith nodded. "This whole business is crazy. A highly advanced technology with spaceships in the air—and centuries-old amtracs and gun-powder on the ground! If this is all a dream and we're really on earth in a psyche-cell, somebody's got a devil of an imagination!"
An explosion, then the whine of steel missiles sent the three on their stomachs among the small sharp shells. Danton raked the forest with flash-gun fire.
Finally Danton said, "We have to move."