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"Major Pauley is currently in command of the remainder of the battalion."
"Okay, get me in contact. Where are they?"
"The unit has retreated approximately six kilometers in a direct line towards the MLR."
"What? Where is the cav?"
"The American cavalry units are engaged in a general retreat towards the MLR. They are at less than thirty percent of their nominal strength. In any other conditions they would be considered combat ineffective."
"Show me." The local schematic drew back until it showed a mass of red, broken directly above, but otherwise nearly continuous, in contact with a thin line of green. There were breaks up and down the green line but the landward portion was entirely open with a large gap to the rear and another small portion of green well separated from the remainder. The gap was opening and it was obvious that the red of the Posleen would shortly flank or encircle the beleaguered green armor units.
"He's still pulling back," said Mike, watching the ACS unit make another bound towards the dubious safety of the MLR.
"Yes."
"Is he in contact with higher authority?" the lieutenant wondered aloud.
"I am not at liberty to discuss communications with higher headquarters," said the AID primly.
"Great. Co
"He is currently in communication. I will co
"Okay." Mike studied the schematic again, flexing his hand idly. The AID automatically adjusted the resistance of the glove to that of the torsional device he normally used. "Is that solid mass of red accurate or are there any clear areas?"
"The information is based upon a survey of visual and auditory sensors throughout the affected areas. It is fairly accurate. I would recommend drawing further away from the edge of the battle area before emerging on the surface." The AID highlighted probable areas of low Posleen presence on the map.
"Well, where is the nearest sewage main?" Mike asked. "We need a way out of here." He stopped for a moment then did a double take. "Hey, how the hell did you find that out now but didn't know it before the assault?" he asked angrily.
"What do you mean?" queried the AID.
"When we were waiting for the Posleen assault the only information we could get was bits and pieces from the Indowy and the Himmit."
"You refer to the battalion intelligence briefing," said the AID.
"Yes," replied Mike, hotly.
"You never asked me," said the AID. Mike could almost hear the sniff.
Mike thought about the statement and had a sudden urge to just quit. It was moments like this that made him hate suits. If he was not in a thousand pounds of ceramet and plasteel with a three-inch-thick helmet he could do such things as slap his forehead, bang his head on the wall or, at least, shake it from side to side. As it was he just had to stand still as a statue as the adrenaline released by feeling like such an utter fool coursed through his system. He took a deep breath. Blowing it out created a tiny amount of back pressure in the small open area in front of his mouth. It was as close as he would come to tactile feedback.
"Michelle, are you filing continuous reports?" he asked tiredly.
"No, the unit is under emission control, local transmissions only." The suit local transmission system used directional pulses of monoperiodic subspace transmissions. The transmissions were traded in a distributed network from one suit that was in sight to another, shuttling through the group in the same ma
"Okay," sometimes the Posleen seemed to use direction finding, so it made sense. "Well, the first time we get in touch with higher, which will be soon, I want you to file a full report for me. Include that little tidbit. Now about the sewer lines?"
"There are no major sewer lines. There are toxic chemical dumping lines, but I discommend using them; over time they could damage your armor."
"Well then, how are we getting out?" asked O'Neal, puzzled. Michelle had clearly indicated that she had a plan.
"Through the water mains," said the AID.
"The system is sealed. If we break the seal we squirt out like grapes and getting back in will be a pain. Can we shut the water down?" he asked. Mike studied the schematic of the water system. The water flowed in from the ocean through processing plants along the shore. There plankton and minerals were separated from the water to be refined for further use and the purified water was pumped to the megalopolis. Although most of the products necessary for life were recycled within the megalopolis, significant quantities of water were lost in direct evaporation, thus the need for a tremendous resupply system. The tu
"We ca
"So how do we get through the obstacle?"
"I don't currently have a plan," admitted the AID, chastened.
"Well, neither do I. Cross that bridge when we come to it."
* * *
Duncan rubbed the sides of his helmet. The external oxygen monitor indicated that there was just enough O2 for humans in the tu
"Gimme Sergeant Green," he said to his AID and looked at the new lieutenant. O'Neal looked like a fucking spastic, his fingers flicking in front of his armor. It was the same guy from Division; he had been around the battalion in the last month or so as they suddenly went into frantic training overdrive. It was stupid. There was no way the battalion was going to get ready in less than two months after pissing away all that other time on the ship; it was just window dressing. On the other hand, the training that Wiznowski had been bootlegging had really helped. He wished that someone had forced the colonel to listen to him; Wiz really knew his shit.
"What's O'Neal lookin' at?" he asked. He had found that all the AIDs were linked and sometimes he could peek in on what someone was doing with their system.
"I ca
"What about Sergeant Green?" asked Duncan, kicking some of the rubble on the floor, the plasteel chips skittering away in the suit lights to flip off the jagged end of the tu
"He is in conversation with Sergeant Wiznowski."
"Try to break in." He felt confident that they would let him in. During the trip his had been one of the first squads to be included in Wiznowski's secret training sessions and they had developed a good rapport.
"Yes, Duncan," Green asked, tiredly. The NCO's attitude had come around, but he was still an occasional pain in the ass.
"We got any word?" he asked. He could see the two NCOs at the other end of the tu
"Some, I was just talking to Wiznowski about that. The lieutenant says we're go
The names of the troops flashed up and the suits of the troopers scattered through the tu