Gust Front

* * *

Keren looked up and snarled as the guy hanging rounds froze. Then, when he saw his slack-jawed face he looked to the rear. The tune was familiar. At first he could not for the life of him place it. But then, as the approaching unit began singing, it came to him and he started to laugh so hard he thought he would die.

* * *

Colonel Cutprice looked up at the sound behind him and started to laugh. Just when you thought you had lost the game, sometimes life handed you an ace. Some of the riflemen on the mound turned to snarl at the misplaced mirth but then, as more and more of the veterans began laughing, they looked to their rear and smiled. They weren't sure what the joke was—the song was familiar from basic training but otherwise a mystery. But the old guys obviously got whatever the joke was.

* * *

And to the strains of «Yellow Ribbon,» the anthem of the United States Cavalry, the men and women of the First Battalion, Five Hundred Fifty-Fifth Mobile Infantry Regiment, the «Triple-Nickles,» began to deploy.

CHAPTER 72

Washington, DC, United States of America, Sol III

1116 EDT October 11th, 2004 ad

Teri Nightingale was not happy. The plan that battalion, which meant Captain O'Neal, had downloaded was u

He also had sent Ernie out on a forlorn hope. Trying to hold that force coming across the bridge with a few infantry troops and some cowardly tank crews was impossible. They would be slaughtered. And that would be the end of Ernie Pappas.

She was not happy with the direction that relationship had taken. She had never intended to actually go to bed with him. But when the captain had turned her training over to the NCO, she felt a certain amount of flirtation in order. A good report from the NCO, much as it galled her, would go far towards restoring her position in the captain's eyes. Since the captain wrote her evaluation report, her career depended on keeping this NCO happy.

Flirtation had, unfortunately, quickly led to more. And now she was not sure she could end the relationship without causing the exact opposite of the effect she had been striving for. It was a hell of a predicament. Much as it bothered her to consider it, Sergeant Pappas's death would certainly permit her to be free and clear.

Her own death, however, might quickly follow. She swallowed at that thought and caught her breath. For the first time she seriously regretted her change from Intel to Infantry. A career in Intel would have meant slower promotion, but one of the costs of being in combat arms was the chance of dying. That had never been real to her until today. Despite the reality of the training systems, the possibility that Teri Nightingale might cease to exist was a shock.

That possibility was much on her mind as the company double-timed down New York Avenue. Confident in his company and assured by the first sergeant that the XO was capable of handling the load, Captain O'Neal had assigned Bravo the most difficult assignment. It required moving across Washington at an oblique angle and taking the Posleen forces in the flank. It also left them out on a limb, unsupported by the rest of the companies in the battalion. And to get to the point where they were truly in trouble required a headlong charge towards the distant enemy.

Second platoon was in the lead as they approached the back side of the White House. Lieutenant Fallon had pushed his point out well in advance of their location, but they were ru

«Lieutenant Fallon,» she said, carefully controlling her voice, «hold up at the intersection of New York and Fifteenth Street. I don't like this ru

«Ma'am,» said the lieutenant, diffidently. «With all due respect we're behind schedule as it is. We need to be in position to support the battalion's assault.»

«I am aware of the plan, Lieutenant!» snapped the acting commander. «But if we get ambushed it will not help the battalion either!»

«Yes, ma'am,» said the officer, tightly.

The company stopped in the open area to the east of the Treasury a

* * *

Wilson tapped a grav-gun to get the rifleman on the correct axis and walked over to where Stewart was standing, one foot tapping a rhythm on the concrete. He leaned into the squad leader and set his communicator to private mode.

«Manuel, we're not supposed to be stopped here,» he hissed.

«No shit,» snapped Stewart. He did not even correct the use of his former name. The alias James Stewart was a bit of comedy that the gang had managed to keep secret to everyone but the first sergeant. But right now he was worried more about the colossal screwup the company was engaged in than in keeping his former existence a secret.

«Well, do something!»

«What would you have me do?» he asked in exasperation. «Off the XO?»

The response was resounding silence.

«Oh, great,» Stewart responded. «Do you have any idea what a really bad idea that is? No? You think that Rogers or Fallon would just pick up the ball if we shot Nightingale? Or, maybe, they would have to deal with whoever shot her first? Bad, bad, bad idea.»

«Okay,» relented the former gang member. «But what the hell are we going to do?» he asked plaintively. «We were supposed to be in position by now, not standing by the White House with our thumbs up our butts!»

«Muy trabajo, buddy. I know that, you know that, the L-T knows that. The only one who doesn't know it is the fuckin' XO. So, when the Old Man figures out what's going on he'll kick her ass and get it in gear. No problemo.»

«Sure, sure, Jim,» snapped Wilson. «No problem for us. But the rest of the battalion is going to get corncobbed.»

Stewart snorted faintly and smiled in his armor. «Why, Juan, I didn't think you cared about anybody but the gang!» The sarcasm was gentle and ironic.

«Well.» Wilson looked at the symbol across the street. «I guess maybe I figure this is as much my turf as anybody's. And you know damn well that if you're standing still, sooner or later the Bloods are go

* * *

Atalanara had been part of Kenallurial's charge across the Potomac. But, unlike most of the other Kessentai, he had marshaled his oolt by the bridge, ready to cross. So the force had made it across relatively intact. Seeing the massive confusion near the Memorial he had struck out on his own.

A very junior battlemaster, he had no interest in facing well-prepared forces. His first movement to the north along the great river had been rebuffed by fire from thresh dug-in among the buildings of a large complex. Although the complex had looked desirable, he doubted his ability to drive the force of thresh out of their positions.

Taking a side street he sent teams of oolt'os into the buildings lining the roads. They reported nothing of value. Some of the buildings had fine artwork or well-made equipment, but nowhere were the heavy metals, refined chemicals or production facilities that he craved. Such a find would assuredly be assigned by the Net to the first to capture it. And it would permit him to equip his oolt with much better weapons.

Of course, the threshkreen had already helped in that regard. The oolt had exited the lander equipped mostly with the cheapest of shotguns along with a few missile launchers. The tenar that he had started off with sported the company's sole 3mm railgun.