March Upcountry

Mett shouted as the trees around him started to come apart in eruptions of thunder and lightning, and splinters flayed the warriors of Miv Qist.

"Forward!" he bellowed. "This land is ours!"

There were times when Ima Hooker felt like a distilled potion of fury. Whether that was nature or nurture—the father who'd given her her name had been cruel in many other ways—she neither knew nor cared. All that she cared about were the occasional moments when the Imperial Marines gave her an outlet for it.

Like now.

As the scummies burst out of the concealing foliage, she snugged the bead rifle into her shoulder, placed the laser targeting dot on the body of the leader, and flicked her rifle to its three-round burst setting. Time to get some back from the universe.

Pahner glanced at his tactical display and made a decision.

"They're trying to close the route," he snapped over the command circuit. "First, stay in place, screening our flank. As we pass, roll in behind us. Everybody but sharpshooters off the pack beasts. Third to the point, Second in the body. Pick up the pace Marines. Let's go!"

Roger started to slide off Patty and got slapped on the leg by Sergeant Hazheir.

"Stay up there, Your Highness!" the acting platoon sergeant said. "You're probably who he meant by sharpshooters."

Roger laughed and nodded.

"Okay! " he yelled as the staff sergeant slid off the beast and trotted forward. "I'll try to remember who the good guys are!"

Corporal Hooker put another burst into the vegetation and cursed. The bastards were figuring out to stay behind cover.

"Behie! Flush those bastards for me!" she snapped, highlighting the cover with her target designator for the grenadier.

"Roger!" Pentzikis had just finished attaching a new belt and pivoted slightly, letting the launcher's sensors search for the target. "I need more grenades; I'm short."

"Roger," Edwin Bilali acknowledged. The NCO shot at a patch of gray and was rewarded by a scream. "Gelert! Get to the pack beasts and bring back three strings of grenades!"

"On my way, boss!" The newbie private put a burst into the vegetation in front of him and reared up to run for the passing beasts. He thought he knew where he could find the ammunition.

Ima Hooker popped out her first magazine and had just started to reload another of the half-kilo plastic packs when a scummy reared up from behind a log and hurled its javelin.

"Heads up!" she shouted, seating the magazine, and took aim.

The spi

"Bastards!" she screamed, and swept the muzzle onward, seeking still more targets and fresh vengeance.

Sergeant Bilali ran to the rifleman, but he knew he was too late. The private from St. Augustine scrabbled at the muck and loam of the jungle floor, choking on the blood that poured out of his mouth. Bilali pulled off the private's helmet and tried to roll him over, but the javelin pi

"Ah, Christ, Jeno!" The NCO's hands fluttered helplessly over the wounds. Bullets didn't transfix their targets like specimens in some alien entomologist's collection, so all his training meant nothing. "Ah, God, man."

"Move!" Dobrescu was suddenly at his side. The warrant officer had already learned all he cared to know about wounds like this one. He figured the kid had about one chance in twenty, max, but it was worth going for.

"It's got to come all the way through," the medic went on as he pulled out a monomolecular bone cutter. The scissorlike device sliced open the chameleon suit and snipped the javelin shaft flush with the private's back effortlessly, with absolutely minimal movement, yet even that tiny twitch evoked another scream.

"Now comes the fun part," Dobrescu added through gritted teeth. "Gelert," he said firmly, applying a self-sealing bandage. "Listen to me. I got one way to save your life, and its go

Even as he spoke, he was ru

Gelert was twitching and the blood was going everywhere as the company passed them by. Stopping for one casualty would get them all killed, but if Dobrescu couldn't get this kid evacuated soon, the company's advance was going to leave him behind the caravan.

"Bilali, I'm go

"Who the fuck is going to carry it?" the NCO demanded as fresh firing started to the front and another cry of "Medic!" cut through the bedlam. "We're getting hammered."

"Find someone!" the warrant officer barked. He wondered for a moment if he should just write the kid off and get him lashed to a pack beast until they could bag and burn him. But if he could get the holes patched and the bleeding slowed, the fast-heal nanites sometimes could perform miracles. Fuck it.

"And while you're finding somebody, we're going to need security!"

"Roger," Kosutic answered. "Shit!" She looked over her shoulder. "Captain!"

"What?" Pahner never looked away from his HUD. Second Platoon had just passed through in the leapfrog and reported that they were hitting signs of buildings and rock outcroppings. If they made it into the city, it was going to be by the skin of their teeth, and he could hear the howling of the Kranolta horns behind him. It was as if the Huntsmen of Hell had been loosed on their trail.

"Dobrescu is trying to get Gelert stabilized to move. He's already out of Third's coverage!"

That was enough to pull the captain away from his display, and he looked up in disbelief. The sergeant major looked as royally pissed as he felt, not that being in agreement made either of them feel any better.

"Dobrescu!" Pahner keyed his communicator. "Get your ass out of there—now!"

"Captain, I have Gelert stabilized. I think I can save him."

"Mr. Dobrescu, this is in order. Get your ass out of there!" He checked his HUD and realized that none of the private's fire team had moved out. "Bilali!"

"Sir, we're pulling out as fast as we can rig a stretcher," the NCO responded.

"Sergeant—!"

The company CO chopped off his furious command. Long, long ago at the Corps NCO combat leadership school, he'd been told something which had stood him in a good stead for fifty-plus Standard years: Never give an order you know won't be obeyed. He never had, and he didn't intend to start today.

"We'll be waiting for you in Voitan, Sergeant."

He knew he'd just written off their only medic, who was also an irreplaceable pilot, and a full fire team, but that was better than losing the entire company trying to cover them.

The line of flar-ta was pounding up a slope and through a ruined gateway partially choked by the rubble of the gatehouse. The area beyond was too large to hold for long—a fifty-meter-wide plaza surrounded by overgrown heaps of masonry—but it was a good place to rally.

"Hold it up on the other side," he called over the general company frequency. "Third Platoon on the gate, First and Second in support. I want a headcount."