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«Specialist Rossi,» said Mueller, introducing the cav trooper, «this is Amanda Hunt, the lead demolition person for the claymore ambush.»
«Ma'am,» said the specialist with a nod of the head and a wave of the hand at his helmet. He knew better than to salute, but wanted to acknowledge her civilian rank.
«Ms. Hunt is going to go check the demolition circuits.» Mueller pointed at the circuit board. «This is the controller for the ambush. One of the things she is going to do is check to make sure none of the detonators have been co
«Yes, Sergeant.»
«I've coordinated this with your squad leader and your platoon leader. Now, I don't think that this will happen, but in the event that we are attacked while she is out there, you are to remain at this post until relieved by Ms. Hunt, understood? You are not, I repeat, not to return to your fighting vehicle, but remain here. Understood?»
«Yes, Sergeant.» The trooper was clearly unhappy with the order.
«In the event that your platoon pulls out before Ms. Hunt returns, you are to destroy the circuit board. Do not attempt to use it, do not let anyone else, not your platoon nor any of the engineers, use it. Understood?»
«Yes, Sergeant, understood. Why?»
Mueller smiled. «Because I might be out there, and I don't want any idiot cooking off two thousand claymores because somebody saw a horse run across the road. And if Amanda isn't back, it means that some or most of the detonators are not hooked up. If she makes it back after you destroy the box, she can probably get most of them to detonate anyway.
«I would order you to stand your post until the Posleen are on you. That would do the same thing, would mean that she and the engineers weren't still trying to hook up claymores. But I'm not going to expect you to remain when your platoon pulls out. You're behind the overpass embankment and the drainage ditch runs right into the fighting position, so even if she doesn't get back when we're taking fire, you can still hold out until the tracks start to move, so stay here until relieved. Understood?»
«Understood.»
«Repeat it back.»
«I am to remain at this post, letting no one but Ms. Hunt have access to this circuit board, until relieved by Ms. Hunt personally and no other. I will remain under those orders, unless my platoon retreats from its position, at which time I am to destroy the circuit board and retreat with my platoon.»
«Ms. Hunt?»
«Okay.» She looked deeply skeptical. «If I ain't back though, your boss better make damn sure he waits as long as he can.»
As she drove away in her pickup Mueller looked the specialist in the eye.
«How long you go
«Till she gets back or the Posleen are swarmin'. I'll get a radio from the track, I'll still be able to call fire right up till then.»
«Right.» Mueller looked down at the departing civilian contractors. Their grading work done, they were headed to the next ambush. It would probably be less elaborate than this one, but the Posleen were going to be greeted as many times as possible as they advanced.
«Any word from the scouts?»
The cav scout pulled a device out of his thigh cargo pocket and tapped the keypad. The box was the size of an old «brick» cellular phone and had a hand strap on the back for ease of carrying. This was useful, for example, when under fire. The LCD display flashed as he scrolled through options and finally settled on a screen.
«Nah, the Posleen they're watching are still in some sort of security distribution around their lander. There's some sort of armor indicator, maybe one of their God Kings. But they still don't seem to be moving this way.»
«Nice,» said Mueller. «What is it?»
«You've never seen one?» said the surprised scout.
Mueller held up his wrist where the GalTech AID was wrapped as a thin bracelet. «I use an AID.»
«Oh, well it's a combination of the IVIS and the ANCD,» said the scout, using the military acronyms for the InterVehicle Intelligence System and the Army-Navy Cryptographic Device.
«So it's both a tactical dispositions locator and a code book?» Mueller asked.
«Yeah. Your position is broadcast by it to command vehicles that gather the data and pass it on. And you can pull down signals information from the intervehicle network. So, like, if I want to call up that battleship, I just search for . . . what was its name?»
«The North Carolina.»
«Right.» The scout tapped keys for a moment and grimaced. «It doesn't want to give me Navy information. Why the hell do we practice Operational Security when the Posleen don't use the information?» he asked rhetorically.
«Where's it getting its location data from?»
«Triangulation from the vehicles. They're getting it from reads off of other vehicles that get hard position data from those position markers that are scattered around. We hit one on the way up here and the guidance system has us just about where we are—sitting under the overpass—so it seems to be working.» He tapped the device again. «I can put in a call for fire to the artillery battery that's attached to us, but I can't get up to the Navy.»
«You can do a call for fire?» asked the Special Forces NCO.
«Yeah, in case it, you know, like drops in the pot.» The trooper shook his head. «I hope I don't have to, though. That means the chain of command is down to me, you know? How's that thing work?» he asked, gesturing at the AID.
«Pretty much the same.» Mueller held out his wrist. «AID, battlefield schematic out five miles.» A holographic projection of the battlefield in three dimensions appeared in front of the two soldiers. As they watched, units, friend and foe, were sketched in. «A little easier, though.»
The trooper shook his head again. «Why'd you ask me?»
«I was actually thinking you might say something like, 'Oh, yeah, I heard on the radio. . . .' « Mueller lowered the device and it decided the demonstration was over and switched off the schematic. «Little did I know you were going to pull out your own handy-dandy battlefield computer.»
The trooper smiled. «I really love this thing.»
«What's the brief for the front-line scouts?» asked Mueller, wondering if everyone had gotten the same word. «Are they staying out of sight?»
«Oh, yeah. They're not go
«Yeah, it's kind of like leading a pig.» Mueller felt the glimmerings of an idea.
«Huh?» asked the urban-raised cavalry specialist.
«The best way to lead a pig is to poke it in the nose,» said the NCO with a distracted smile.
«Oh. Well, until the colonel says different, we're staying out of sight.»
«Yeah, best thing for it.»
«I thought you'd know that.»
«Why?» asked Mueller, warily.
«Well, wasn't it a Special Forces team that got shot up on Barwhon?» asked the specialist.
«Actually, it was a mixed special operations team: some Special Forces, Marines, a SEAL.»
«And they stuck their dicks into a Posleen camp, killed some God Kings and got their butts kicked, right?» the specialist asked archly.
«More or less.»
«So we don't want to do that, do we, Sergeant?»
«We didn't want to either,» Mueller admitted, grimly.
«So why did they do it?» asked the scout.
«We got orders from higher to snatch some Posleen for medical experiments. We didn't exactly like it and we liked the result even less than we thought we were going to. We lost two absolute legends in the special ops community—Sandra Ellsworthy and Arthur Tung—and when we made it back to the Himmit scout we were at Death's door from fatigue and vitamin deficiency.»