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When he reached the ground floor he headed for an ammunition cache. As he scooted he was studying the schematic as the engineers frantically laid charges and larger and larger areas turned green.
"What's the plan?"
"It's called Jericho, sir." Mike took a few moments to explain.
"That's a hell of an expansion, lieutenant. It'll give us a breather, but . . ."
"Sir, it'll give us more than a breather, it'll secure this whole sector. Then we can move into support of 7th Cav." When he reached the ammo dump he started loading a grav sled with an M-323 machine gun and ammunition boxes. "Frankly it is what we should have done instead of sending out the mobile forces to get wiped out."
"Mike, this isn't one of your computer games. Just keeping the company from bolting will be hard enough."
"Sir, when we fall back the perso
"Uh, limiting collateral damage?" asked the commander rhetorically. "Okay, okay, we'll do it. Make sure the information is available immediately when we fall back."
"The company's AIDs already have the plan. All it took was your okay."
"Good luck, Lieutenant."
"Vaya con Dios, Captain, go with God." He paused for a moment to let the cha
* * *
27
Andata Province, Diess IV
2208 GMT May 18th, 2002 AD
"Knock, knock, mind if I join you?" Lieutenant O'Neal used the local circuit. He knew there were troops from Charlie company in the next room, but he didn't know who they were. The AID could tell him, but he'd been too busy to ask. Besides, there were few troopers in Charlie company that he knew personally. And given how keyed up everyone was, letting them know he was coming before barging through the door seemed like a good idea.
"Come ahead," said Sergeant John Reese, looking over his shoulder. Through the double doors came a squat figure towing a grav sled loaded with weapons and ammunition. Among them was another M-300 and a tripod-mounted HVM. Reese recognized him as Lieutenant O'Neal; the silhouette was distinctive. Apparently the lieutenant believed in being prepared. "Can I help you, sir?" Reese jerked his head at the ammo bearer, Private Pat McPherson to go help with the load.
"Thanks. I figured I'd join the party if you don't mind." Mike's suit flashed a heads-up-display of the names and ranks by the suited figures in the room. It was a heavy weapons team with the heavy weapons squad leader. Their own M-300 heavy grav gun was set up and bins of ammunition were ganged together ready to go. All three of the team were crouched against the outside wall, their force-screens covering the probable axis of approach. The descending F-1's sunset glow had turned a weird violet that mottled the suits like purple haze.
"Hell no, sir. Every little bit helps," said the assistant gu
"Was that by any chance a short joke, Specialist?" Mike asked with mock ster
"Oh, hell, sir. That wasn't what I meant!"
"I know, I know, just a little levity, right? Little levity, get it?"
The squad laughed as Mike started tossing thirty-kilo ammo bins against the wall.
"Michelle, give me an RGB representation of Indowy, Posleen and humans in the nine-block sector."
The AID flashed a three-D representation of the nine megascrapers, then began drawing in Posleen, human and Indowy concentrations in red, green and blue. The green was a solid core in the corners of Qualtren and Qualtrev with scattered others behind. The projected locations of Indowy were a heavy concentration in Saltren and Saltrev and blue flowing downward like an hourglass in Qualtren and Qualtrev; time was ru
"They're almost in sight," said Mike, taking a sip of water as he crouched behind the spurious shelter of the wall and set up the HVM to fire automatically.
"Orders are to wait for a signal from Captain Vero before we open fire. What are you looking at?"
"Michelle, slug hologram to squad view," said Mike as he finished readying the missile launcher. It was set to track his fire and add its own weight offset ten meters. He started to set up the M-300 on the opposite side of the squad's position. It would be set to do the same thing. Thus he would be controlling not only his own light grav gun but two other heavy weapons. It was not a hard technique to train for or to set up. But the battalion, of course, had not prepared for it.
"Huh," Sergeant Reese said after a moment, "I didn't know they could do that."
"Yours can't, not in any detail. Command suits have extra processing and data collection ability." There was a moment of silence, then Mike said in a flat tone, "There they are."
The words came as a surprise and Sergeant Reese popped his head up from hologram and peered down the darkening canyon. "AID," he said, "Mag six, enhance and stabilize." The view leapt forward and brightened.
The way the stabilization system worked, the world moving at a different rate than reality, always made him a little queasy. What Reese saw in his view-screen just made him sick. He broke out in a cold sweat and goose pimples as his sphincter tightened. He wanted badly to piss and his mouth was dry. When Pat started to vomit he was forced to join in. This caused a complete loss of control.
The Posleen had regained control of the front rank and the remorseless abattoir was in full swing. To either side they could see the late-moving Indowy pouring out of the megascrapers, trying to avoid the oncoming horde. It was easier to empathize with these Indowy, having watched movement within and among the megascrapers during their setup. The peaceful little boggles that the Posleen were slaughtering had become like neighbors and seeing them slaughtered was a terror.
They always told you it was okay to be afraid, but surely they didn't mean this stark terror, this abject fear. The briefings had been clear. Although the suits were proof against many things, the Posleen palmate blades had mono-molecular edges; they could chop apart a suit like a housewife with a chicken. All Reese could think of as the Posleen advanced remorselessly on the fleeing Indowy was that those knives were headed for him and the whole world seemed to be filled with flashing steel.
He couldn't understand it. He was one of the brave, the fearless Airborne. For five years he had jumped out of planes over fifty times, enduring the occasional injury, without the first qualm. He enjoyed the thrill that terrified others. He'd laughed, inside, at the guys who were white-faced and shaking, who closed their eyes and headed for the sound of the open door. He loved the sight of the chutes opening out the door, the earth, plane and sky tossed in a chaotic kaleidoscope for those first brief moments after you stepped out. The chute opening was almost a letdown and the landing no hassle, except when something broke. But no fear, ever. Now, he feared. He feared the Posleen and wondered why those white-faced troopers put up with this over and over again.