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The tenar was the same, but it now was mounted with a gigawatt laser and a new sensor suite. The Kessentai that had «improved» his vehicle would never miss the equipment. And their oolt, scattered in death from the threshkreen's ballistic weapons, had yielded a mass of weapons. So, now, the normals of the company were armed with a decent mix of weaponry. He had been able to double the number of hypervelocity missile launchers in the company and most of the remaining normals were now armed with railguns. True, many of those were 1mm rather than 3mm. But there were several plasma ca
The map that Kenallurial had been using indicated that there was a «Treasury» around here somewhere. The translation of that term had been more than satisfactory. That would be a prize worth fighting for.
* * *
«Okay,» said Nightingale over the leader's circuit. «I know you're wondering why we've stopped. I'm not happy with ru
«In that case,» said Lieutenant Rogers, angrily, «we should be moving, not stopped. And, in case you haven't noticed, the rest of the battalion is about to engage the enemy. They are expecting us to hit them in the flank and cover the holes on that side! Which we are not doing standing around with our thumbs up our butts!»
«Watch your tongue,» snapped Nightingale. «I understand your concerns, but we need a good op order on this.» She paused for a moment. «This plan is not complete. We don't have good intelligence on the enemy's dispositions.»
«Ma'am,» said Sergeant Bogdanovich, «that is the Infantry. We're always the people who are gathering the intel the hard way. And this isn't about intel, it's about assault. We have to move.»
«We will move when I am ready to move,» said Nightingale angrily. «And not a moment sooner!»
* * *
«Boss,» said Arnold, over a side cha
«Yeah,» sighed O'Neal. «I see it.» Bravo had stopped at the intersection of New York Avenue and Fifteenth Street. Although it was not where he would have had a pre-rally, a stop made sense. If they had moved on. But they hadn't.
The battalion had finally cleared the detritus on the Mall and was preparing to cross Fifteenth Street. The forces on the Mound were getting hammered so he had brought the unit up to a lope. As they cleared Fifteenth, Alpha Company opened out like a fan. The edges of the company were already taking fire from distant God Kings and as soon as they cleared the mound it was going to be a firestorm. He needed to get Nightingale going. Fast.
«Top,» he said, letting the AID switch him automatically.
«Yes, sir,» said the first sergeant. According to the schematic he was not far from Bravo, in the company of a platoon of tanks. «I got a more or less intact battalion to move over to the Watergate. They got a brush from Posleen but beat them off. I'm taking these tanks over and there's some more forces that might trickle along behind. If we get artillery and not too many bad guys we should be fine.»
«That's great, Top,» said Mike quickly. «Just one problem. Look where Bravo is.»
Mike waited a moment then snorted faintly at the fluent swearing that the AID faithfully broadcast.
«Shit,» the first sergeant finished. «I'm sorry, boss.»
«You get one suggestion,» Mike answered. He was not terribly happy with the situation he was in. Pappas was normally to be depended on for a logical evaluation of perso
Pappas thought about the question furiously. If he left the Abrams unit they would take off like a scalded cat. But if he tried to persuade Nightingale over the radio it would be a waste of breath. He could see as clearly as the Old Man that she had frozen, whatever she was telling the company. There was only one choice, as painful as it was personally and professionally.
«Relieve her, sir,» he said after the brief moment's thought. «Put Rogers in charge. If they're stopped and get hit by a Posleen company, you'll have a hell of a time getting them started again.»
«Concur. Out here,» said O'Neal, coldly.
Pappas knew he was going to get his ass kicked at some time in the near future by the little fireball. But that was only if they survived the upcoming battle.
* * *
Atalanara was nearly there. All he had to do was take this «Treasury» building and survive the battle. If he could, he would be set for all eternity; the treasury of such a rich nation would be bulging with loot. As he cleared the intervening bulk of the Old Executive Office Building the long-sought building came into view. And so did an oolt of metal threshkreen.
* * *
«Posleen!» shouted a private in First Platoon and sent a stream of relativistic teardrops towards the Posleen company that had appeared around the corner.
The fire was obscured by the fences and trees at the back of the White House as well as the bulk of the government office building. This gave the company enough time to react to the sudden appearance.
«Okay,» said Nightingale, looking at her readouts, «we can do this.» She tapped her gauntlets together and thought for a moment. «Okay, First platoon. Dig in and prepare to lay down a base of fire. Second, swing to the right and prepare to hit them in the flank. Third, get ready to pass through First to lay down more fire. Mortars—«
«No, no, no, no!» shouted Stewart over the command cha
«Stewart,» the officer snarled. «One more word out of you and I'll have you court-martialed!»
«He's right, Nightingale,» snapped Rogers as he stepped into line with his platoon and opened fire at the Posleen. The force was actually moving into the Executive Building, using the mass of the structure as cover and concealment. And the fire coming back was heavy. But they could bypass this resistance and move to their positions with minimal casualties. If the intel-weenie bitch could ever get off the stick. Giving vent to his frustration he sent a code to the platoon to open fire with grenades.
The small antimatter grenades sailed out in a volley, the spheres smashing through windows and bouncing off of walls before detonating. The arc-light bright flashes tore off the front of the building without noticeably impeding the Posleen fire. Whoever the God King in charge was, he was starting to learn human tactics.
«Cease fire with grenades!» shrilled Nightingale, horrified by the damage done to the building. It was on the grounds of the White House for God's sake. The consequences were going to be catastrophic.
«Nightingale,» came O'Neal's voice, snapping across the company general circuit. «You are relieved. Move immediately to the area of the cargo canisters and remain there until further ordered. Lieutenant Rogers, you are in tactical command. Move immediately down G Street to Nineteenth. Take your positions along Constitution. You have three minutes to effect this maneuver. If you hit resistance punch through. Kick their ass, don't piss on them!» he finished in unconscious mimicry of his most junior squad leader.
«Yes, sir!» said the new acting commander. «Bravo Company! Follow me!» He locked his grav-gun and mortars on the building sheltering the entrenched Posleen and began a cascade of fire as he trotted off. By the time he reached the end of Lafayette Square he was at a full loping run, accelerating past forty miles per hour.
* * *
Stewart was right behind him with Lieutenant Fallon at his side and the rest of the company charging behind them. The hurricane of destruction from the company chewed away the north end of the Gothic structure, shattering the concrete and stone around the Posleen and covering them with cascading debris. Stewart realized halfway down the street that making the requisite turn was going to be nearly impossible. If they turned to the left it would take them towards the fire.