The First Casualty

Chapter Two

Senior Pilot Rita Nuu liked having Major Ray Longknife on her bridge. It hadn't always been so. He'd done a good imitation of a horse's rear end the first time he crossed her bridge coaming. As the senior woman in Wardhaven's attack transport squadron, she was used to male disapproval. It had taken her a while to realize that his attitude had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his beloved brigade. Once that was straightened out, she discovered she actually liked the guy. Love came later.

They had discovered, both on and off ship, that working together was far more fun than fussing. At the moment, Rita was putting the major's position to good use for her squadron. As usual, the admiral didn't think the transports needed to know boo. However, Longknife's access to the command net was displayed on her heads-up. It helped to know what the hell was happening.

To Rita's right, Junior Pilot Cadow had the conn; his hands showed white knuckles on the stick. Technician Hesper did double duty behind Rita, running the electronic countermeasures stations and communications. Ray rode the jump seat behind Cadow, his portable battle station linked with the Friendship's .

“The destroyers in the van are going in,” the major reported. “The Dry Lightning is low. The Stormy Night is high. Should have visuals and sensors sixty seconds before the cruisers start dusting down the crater.” Again Rita wished they had a cruiser attached to the transports. Setting down in that crater five minutes after the cruisers shot it up and two hours before they'd be back was not her idea of smart.

Rita eyed two data screens. One showed strung-out lights representing the gun line. The other waited for sensor data on their target.

The rocket was old, and the dumbest of the dumb. In its nose was a tiny proximity fuse to tell it to blow up a few meters above the ground, scattering its plastic flechettes in a deadly cloud to puncture battle suits or thin-skinned vehicles. Today, the proximity fuse was disabled.

Today, it simply waited for the backup timer to tick away the seconds as its motors blasted at full power. The tiny brain did face a challenge, though. The weight distribution of the rocket was off. The simpleminded CPU had to adjust the rocket nozzles again and again until the missile took on a slight spin. The dumb control unit had not intended the spin, but it did make its job simpler.

The source of the rocket's problem, if it had been wise enough to seek out and solve problems, was a collar that had been added around its payload section. A thick cylinder of sand, barely held together by glue, covered the entire warhead.

Two of the rockets shed their dusty mantles. Three more could not solve the problems created by them and wandered off on their own track. None of them heard Commander Umboto's proud shout. “Crossbows away, Captain. Thirty-one running hot, straight and normal.”

“What's that?” Rita and Ray asked at the same moment.

Hesper worked her board with quick, deft fingers. “Stealthy something, not well guided. They'll miss the destroyers by a wide margin. Doubt if the cans'll waste a shot on them.”

“Hope all their defenses are as shabby,” Rita prayed.

The first sensor reports came in—video of the crater. A couple of piles of ice stood out, but they looked like ship Armor that had been dumped there for later processing.

Give me some other scans,” The major breathed. “Infrared, electromagnetic. We can't go in there on visual alone.”

A new scan started working its way down the screen. Electromagnetic. Good,” the major smiled.

The picture went fuzzy, then turned to static.

“Hesper, get that back,” Rita ordered.

“No signal,” ECM answered.

“Fix it.”

“Can't, Skipper. It's not us. We got a beam from the flag, but it's just noise.”

“Is the Dry Lightning gone?” Cadow choked on the question.

Rita glanced at her display. “Everybody's still squawking.”

“Hesper, can you get me the flag's command net?” Longknife asked softly.

“Lurk on it regularly, sir.”

“Please put it on speaker,” the major requested. He never gave an order on Rita's bridge. If he wanted something, he went through her. Rita didn't begrudge him today's directness.

“Comm,” the admiral shouted from the speaker, “get me through to those tin cans.”

“No can do, sir, we got a brick wall ahead of us. No comm to or from them.”

“Sensors, what kind of brick wall?”

“Damned if I know. Those missiles that missed started exploding and suddenly we got dust and something else all over the place.”

“Gun squadron, begin acceleration at three gees. Now.” My, but the admiral was sounding a tad hysterical. “Transports.” Ah, the admiral finally remembered them. “Execute ...”

“What?” Cadow yelped.

“Signal lost,” Hesper reported.

“Can we accelerate?” Ray asked.

“We're in landing mode,” Rita answered. “Even if we go to three gees, we'll float over their base like target balloons.”

The major pursed his lips. “Set us down at Rosebud One.”

“Once grounded,” Rita nodded, “we can always launch out into the opposite orbit.”

Ray considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Political officer would have my head on a platter.”

Rita snorted.

“And these folks have just landed. It must be a mess down there. I've got seven hundred combat veterans. What have they got? A mob that's never had a shot fired at them.”

“That's what the jollies tell us.” Rita spat the epitaph for political officers.

“We got to find out sooner or later who's right. If he is, I damn sure want to find out sooner. Land us at Rosebud One.”

“I've got the conn,” Rita snapped, taking the sticks back from Cadow. “Just once, Ray, I wish you'd let somebody else find out if the buzz-saw is unplugged. Just once.”

“Where can you set us down?”

“How close you want to be, grunt?”

“About thirty klicks from the pass,” Ray ordered. “It'll make for a short approach march. Put the transports safely out of range, and you can keep the rockets warm if we come running back and need a quick ride out of here.”

“Just make sure you come back.”

Mary jumped when the infrared signals started screaming again. Six ships, rockets pointed her way, sunk over the horizon. “Landing force arriving,” she announced, ready to get to work. To do, as she had done every day of her working life, the job she was paid for.

She checked the digger; still not to the escarpment. They had to get a chance to talk to the colonials! But what do you say? They sure as hell hadn't included that in boot camp. She glanced at her board; she was ready to fight. That they'd taught her well. How do you not fight in a war when everybody else is?

Grandpa always told Ray a soldier expects problems, and problems were staring Ray in the face the second he disembarked. His largest transport, the Loyal, stood at an angle, one landing gear in a crater. The right edge of the roll-off ramp was down the rest hung in space. Engineering platoon was rigging a derrick to offload the artillery the hard way.

The light assault teams of Companies B and C bounced buggies off their transports and went about preparing for as fast a start as Ray would have done when he commanded a company. Good people.

“Santiago.” Ray called up his exec. “Use A company for site security and to help the engineers. I'll move out with the vanguard. Get the heavies in D and E company moving as quickly as possible. I'll need artillery as soon as possible.”

“Right, sir” was all the answer Ray needed.

Ten minutes later, the light companies were mounted up and impatient to lead the charge. “Santiago, how soon can you give me artillery?”

“How about two rocket launchers right now?”

“You're a miracle man. Good luck.”

“Good luck yourself, and Godspeed. Give 'em hell. See you for supper tonight in one of the Earthies' luxury chow halls.”

“With real steaks and fresh potatoes.”

Longknife swung aboard C company's command rig as it passed and plugged himself into the brigade network. Security was guaranteed by the communication filament trailing out from the carrier to the command post back here. His orders would not be intercepted or garbled. Second Guard was experienced and ready. He couldn't help pitying the poor bastards up ahead.

Mary followed the descending ships, handing them off to battalion, who in turn bucked them to brigade. As Mary lurked in the background, they ended up talking to a very angry Navy type, a Commander Umboto, who was pissed as hell that nobody had any long-range rockets ready to go.

“Miller, you store those coordinates and I'll go kick butt. If we can't get some rockets off the ground, my boot will damn sure get some lieutenants flying in that direction.”

The comm link went dead with a loud click, as if the commander had bitten off her mike. Damn, there were some real hard cases here. Mary wondered if they were tough enough to win. She checked her digger. . . almost to the escarpment. What would happen to Umboto if their platoon cut its own peace? She'd probably live through it. They all would. Come on, digger.

Mary called up her squad leaders: Lek, Cassie, Thu, Dumont , and Berra. “What's it look like?”

Cassie and Dumont were Mary's backup, neither willing to say who was primary. After a long pause, Dumont spoke first. The kid was subdued. “We're dug in. I guess we're ready.”

There was a beep. Mary focused on her heads-up. “Lieutenant, we got rolligons headed our way.”

“Thanks, Sergeant, I make out a dozen.”

Lek coughed gently to make himself known on net. If the LT was surprised to find a lurker, he said nothing. “Computer makes out ten wheeled vehicles spread out in the lead. Two columns with another ten coming up behind them. A tracked vehicle is pulling up the rear of both columns. Looks like another pair of columns about five klicks behind the first.”

“Corporal, put that through to my and the sergeant's heads-ups immediately.”

“Yes sir,” Lek answered.

“Sergeant, looks like we got two companies coming our way. The tracks are probably artillery of some sort. Damn, I wish we had rockets with longer reach than ten klicks.”

The regular issue was short-ranged. The LT knew nothing of what Dumont 's girls had gotten them. Just now, Mary wasn't ready to let him know what she had up her sleeve. He'd just want to start whopping the enemy sooner. Mary wanted to keep her hole cards back for a bit. Maybe, if nobody was hurt, nobody would have to be hurt. She checked the mole she'd sent across. It was at the escarpment, but making slow headway.

Mary adjusted a few of her sensors. When next she looked up, the enemy was at the escarpment, eight klicks away, rolligons scattered loosely. One man had dismounted and stared her way, taking in the gap and the rim around it. A gleam came off the fiber-optic cable streaming from his suit.

“Whatcha gonna do, man?” she whispered, hoping he wouldn't do anything until her mole could find his comm wire.

Major Longknife studied the ground before him. Unlike the flat plain they'd just crossed, this was rolling and broken by boulders from the time of the creation of the huge crater, and small craters since. He'd walked similar terrain with grandfather, examining his defense of Goundo Pass Three on Yama-8. Grandpa had earned his colonelcy there. He'd also stopped just the kind of attack Ray was about to make.

Eyeing the ground with twenty years of training and experience, he liked what he saw. The plain, rim, and pass looked untouched since creation. He maxed the zoom on his suit binoculars. At the crown of the pass were footsteps. One set.

“So you had to see for yourself.” The man facing him was curious, or just needed to get personal with his battlefield, get past the vid and heads-up.

Good man. Longknife would use that against him.

The major called up his deployment on his heads-up. Two companies here. One coming up, heavier with artillery. Santiago was holding the last company back. He'd send them forward with the last of the heavy stuff. For a moment, Longknife cursed not having his command van with its full sensor suite. The XO had taken him at his order, artillery first. Still, it would have been better to have slipped the van in somewhere in the middle. Weight of salvo was good, but intelligence would be nice directing that salvo.

“Should have thought of that when I was giving the order.” Usually Santiago used his head better in reinterpreting his orders. Not today. Well, C company had recon assets.

“Tran, talk to me about that rim.”

“Sensors show standard-issue snoops and not much else. Well, we got something that might be a whiff of nitrogen, but it only showed for a second and we can't get it back. No hot spots. No dust. It's clean. We are picking up something underfoot. We've turned loose a counter-miner to hunt it down.”

“You got anything to send over there?” Longknife asked.

“One Dervish Mod Three is up, other two are busted. We couldn't fix them on the way out here ...”

“Not much a tech can do in three gees,” the major said to absolve the support staff. “If you will, Captain, launch what you can.”

“Yes, sir. Tech Sergeant Callahan, boot that mother.”

The Dervish was away in a blink.

“What the hell?” Mary yelped. Coming at her in a crazy dance, now up, now down, now right, now left-way too fast to track was something.

“It's a scout,” the LT observed. “A Dervish, I think. Laser, up and ready,” he ordered. “Sergeant, feed us a track.”

One of Dumont's kids had tested fastest on the one laser rifle the platoon rated. Despite Lek's best scrounging efforts, one was all they had. Nobody would trade anything for what few antimissile weapons they had. Dumont had his fire team sleeping with theirs. Only 12 millimeters, it was small compared to the big Navy guns. Still, it was their laser.

Mary passed numbers and hoped the team was as good at the real thing as they'd been with the vid-game they trained on. The scout reached the base of the rim, dodged right, rose, then jinked left. At the top of the rim, it went right, then left, and slipped over the crest. If Mary hadn't had her sensors covering every square inch of the place, she'd have lost it.

“Dumont, it's yours,” she Said.

Even as she did the handover, the laser rifle spat a bolt.

First shot missed clean as the scout went right. Next shot was closer, but the damn thing jumped five meters. It jinked to the left—directly into a bolt.

Whether the kid guessed right, or just missed in the right direction, he'd done it. Chunks of wreckage shot out in a dozen directions and began to fall slowly.

“We did it, we did it!” the youngsters screamed as one.

But had we done it soon enough? Mary turned her attention back to the wheels on the plain. Some were already negotiating their way through low places in the escarpment.

“Here they come,” she announced on wide net, then gave full attention to her far digger. It had to find that cable.

Longknife zoomed the picture on his heads-up display and scowled. None were completed before the Dervish was popped. Infrared showed hot spots everywhere but a dust down around the rill. Had the idiot deployed his people in there? That was either stupid or a desperate move by an unprepared force. The electromagnetic scan that would show him the location of every racing heartbeat was . . . jammed!

In theory that was possible, but he'd never had it done to him before. The major blinked hard. What was he up against here? Someone had downed his Dervish fast. Good shooter or dumb luck? He wasn't supposed to be facing good troops, just hasty conscripts who'd break at the first tap. “Was the dust down for real,” Longknife mused, “or just to confuse me?”

“Major, we're ready to move out.”

Longknife smiled. It was time to commit, and there was nowhere near enough to go on. For twenty years he'd faced this, just like Dad and Grandpa before him. Let's kick over this anthill and see what happens. Which was all there was to do.

“Companies advance, C on the right, B on the left. Keep your intervals loose. Your objective is the rim wall. Keep your heads up, use what cover you can. Until things develop, hang loose and keep ready for anything. Good luck and Godspeed. Now let's show 'em Second Guard's the best there is.”

The fire teams answered with a shout as the carriers moved out. Ten rifles to a carrier and two carriers to a platoon. The Earthies still used the fifty-man platoon. In a few minutes, they'd learn what the twenty troopers in a Unity platoon could do. One hundred to a company, two hundred rode by his command. D company was four klicks out with three more launchers and a pair of tube artillery. If he used his two launchers now, they'd be reloaded before the troops reached the crater.

“Rockets, pop their sensors on the rim. Use the rest of your load to lay down a salvo on the other side. Standard long box pattern. Use the rill as your center line.”

“Roger. Salvo on the way.” The tracks had leveled themselves on jacks as soon as they halted. Rockets began budding from their launchers as the words echoed in his ears.

Three meters from Ray, the ground erupted. He smiled; the counter-miner had bagged its bug, too. The Earthies were losing all their sensors. Hot damn!

“Damn,” Mary groaned as the digger across the plain went dead. Mining diggers weren't rigged with sensors; still, Mary had picked up readings through the rock. With something digging ahead of her, she'd pushed her digger to the max, hoping to get a fast patch into the Collies' comm net. The digger was gone, and with it their one chance to settle this nice and easy.

Her heads-up went wild.

“Rockets, incoming,” Mary shouted. Pair after pair of missiles appeared on her display.

“Expect sixteen if they're the large ones, sixty-four if they're pelting us with the little stuff.” The lieutenant again provided the military analysis. “Those dinky things can't touch us in our holes, so stay low men and hug your boots.”

Dumont didn’t need the LT to tell him to stay low. He and Tina crouched as deep in their hole as they could, holding each other tighter than when they made love.

“We got 'em.” Blacky's voice rang in Dumont's ears.

“Got what?” he asked, like they were back on the Pitt, cruising for rags.

“The rockets. Watch me pop 'em.”

Dumont blinked his heads-up to life. It overwrote his eyeball, mottling Tina's pale complexion with the tracks of fast-moving missiles. Mary had promised that what she could see, she'd show them all. And what Blacky saw, he shot at.

“Damn it, Blacky, those things'11 home on you.” Around Tina's nose a second and third dot winked out.

“Not while I got 'em in my sights,” Blacky crowed.

A fourth disappeared.

“Private, get that rifle in your hole,” the lieutenant shouted, his voice cracking. “Your ammo won't hold out. You're only making yourself a target.” Two more dots just below Tina's eyes vanished. But her forehead looked like a bad case of acne. And they were changing direction, arrowing straight for Blacky.

“Can't you do something?” Tina whispered.

“Run over to Blacky's hole just in time to get blown to jelly with him.” Dumont wasn't about to do that, even if a corporal was supposed to. And nobody had told him a corporal was. Two more dots disappeared.

“Damn, it's not shooting anymore,” Blacky screamed. “Amy, switch me to another juice bag.”

“Not enough time,” Mary yelled. “Pull it in and get down!”

“I'm going. I'm going,” Blacky hollered.

Dumont wanted to look, see if Blacky had finally done what someone told him to. He kept his head down. Don’t make yourself a target . He could check on Blacky when the barrage was over. Check on what was left of him. On Dumont's display, the dots were flocking to Tina's lips. He wanted to kiss her. Damn suit. Some of the dots farther back, around her eyes, were still spread out. Dumont held his breath and Tina tight. The explosions began. He pissed in his suit and his bowels let go. Tina screamed as he was thrown against her. He gripped the walls of their hole, trying to hold himself, not smash against her again.

The explosions went on—forever.

“Report casualties,” the lieutenant ordered on net as soon as the last rocket was down. On her screen, Mary could see him out of his hole, bounding for third squad.

No one else was moving.

The lieutenant came to a halt at the edge of a torn and pocked area. Here, the rill was gone, broadened into a ten-meter hole made up of a lot of little ones. “Third squad, you've lost two men and the laser rifle.” Mary knew it was a man and a woman, two kids who'd played one too many vid-games.

“Lieutenant,” Mary said, her voice even, “I've got traffic moving in front of us.”

“How much?”

“Twenty wheeled vehicles.”

“Pick two, wide apart, and give 'em each a rocket.” The LT's words were bitter cold. She'd never heard anyone talk quite that way. But then, Mary'd never been around when murder was decided upon.

She selected two rigs, a bit out in front of the rest. By triangulating her vid, she got a good range and position on them without using a laser to range-find. She felt nothing. “Fire in hole twelve,” she called ... just another day at the mine.

“Clear,” the lieutenant shot back.

Cold as death, Mary watched the two missiles process as dots across her display. She didn't switch on the laser designator until the missiles were over the rim. She only highlighted the vehicles when they were halfway there. For a moment the missiles did not respond; then they changed direction. Mary grinned as the projected courses intersected the rigs.

Alarms must have gone off in the vehicles when the designators hit them. Plums of dust shot out as they accelerated and turned. They popped chaff—too late. Several battle-suited figures tumbled out of the rigs. A laser bolt shot up— missed.

The missiles hit. Parts of rig and bodies cartwheeled in slow arcs. Mary zoomed a video in on both scenes, passed them along. Let everybody see the payback. There were cheers on net. Mary studied the picture, imprinting it solid. How many times in the mines had she swallowed whatever the owners handed out? She'd stood, clinch jawed, and taken it. Well, I'm not taking it anymore. You got two of us. We got a lot more of you. Keep coming and there's more where that came from.

“Lieutenant, can I have a couple more missiles?”

“Yeah.” Her request was seconded by others on net.

“We've made our point, Sergeant. We'll need what we got in an hour or so.” As the lieutenant headed back to his hole, Mary turned to the enemy. They'd gone to ground, rigs hiding in the cover of rocks, infantry scattered.

“Okay, you bastards. Let's see how you take to getting your own nose bloodied.”

“Where the hell did that come from?” The newly arrived commander of D company joined his brigade commander at the escarpment's edge, surveying the wreckage.

“I'd like to know.” Longknife could feel the blood lust rising. They'd played him for a sucker—and he'd taken the bait. He wanted them dead. The question was how to do it without throwing troopers away. “Company commanders, report.”

“Tran here.”

“Lieutenant Cohen, B company commander.”

“Where's ...” Right, there'd been a laser cannon on one of the carriers—a company commander's rig. B company had a new commander. Longknife took a deep breath. “Slight change of plan. Send me back your carriers. Keep the infantry heading for the rim, but advance on foot, leapfrog, use fire and movement.”

“Who do we fire at?” the lieutenant squeaked.

“Nobody, unless you see something. Just don't put too many people out in the open until we know what we're up against.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“No stupid questions, only stupid answers.” And how stupid am I being? I'm not ready to put my tail between my legs and run, that's for sure. Of course, it would be nice if those bastards in the pass just disappeared. “Move out, fellows, and keep your heads down. You got an hour to reach the rim.”

“Roger” came back to him. He went to the next item on his agenda. “Senior Pilot Nuu, when's the Revenge due back for a second shooting pass?”

“Don't know, Major. Whatever they ran into fried every sensor and antenna on the boats. Even lost a nine-inch gun. Some eager turret commander ran his laser out early. Got something in its eye. Revenge and company will be low when they go past here. You running into trouble?”

“Nothing we can't handle, but I wouldn't mind the Navy slagging this pass from orbit.”

“Sorry, hon.”

“I'm having a busy day at the office. Call you later, friend.” Ray clicked off. There might have been a whispered kiss just before the line went dead. He stowed it away somewhere behind his heart for later. Right now, he had a battle to win.

What the hell am I facing? The political officer had his own official party opinion. Of course, Jolly had stayed behind to make sure Santiago pushed the rest of the troops forward.

But what was he facing? Really. “Major, artillery here, we got tube artillery dialed in on the laser designators that got our two carriers. Mind if we take them out?”

“Do it.” That took no thought.

The gun carriages behind him bucked. The tubes puffed fire silently. A moment later two chunks of the crater rim blew out. A ragged cheer came over the artillery net.

“Artillery, what's your ammo situation?”

“We got five units of fire on the transports, but only loaded out half of one. Sure could use those carriers you just called back to bring up more ammo.”

“They're yours. Now, I need some time to think. Don't bother me unless the devil himself shows up.”

“No problem.”

Major Longknife stood, legs apart, arms folded over his chest, eyes staring at the pass.

What have I got in front of me?

Damned if I know.

What do I know?

They had a damn good laser gunner who kept me from knowing more about them—who was no longer among the living. Gutsy—but knew damn little about his weapon. Only a green gunner would take on a sixty-four-rocket salvo with no backup.

Are all the troops facing us that green? Would be nice. The deployment along that rill line was something only a green second louie would come up with. Are they there, or was he only supposed to think they were? The rockets had homed in on the laser gun, and they'd homed right in on the rill. Could all that be a setup to sucker him in? The response to that salvo had been quick. Whoever coordinated it had delayed illuminating his targets until the last second. Smart move. Why two missiles? Did they have an ammunition problem, or had the salvo killed two troopers? Only real green troops would let battlefield deaths spark their response.

Everything pointed to green troops, but with surprises up their sleeves. Wonder if they are green enough to surrender. Should have made an offer. Longknife glanced at the wreckage of two carriers too late now. “Santiago, I want my van up here fast. I need sensors pronto.”

“It's moving now, Sir. Some artillery with it.”

“Tell my driver to put pedal to the metal. He'll love that order. I need analysis more than he needs an escort.”

“Yes sir.”

Major Longknife squinted at the pass. Who are you? Have I pegged you right yet? How do I get you out of my way?

Mary studied the situation in front of her. She'd been dumb not to move those designators as soon as she'd used them. She'd reprogrammed the videos to order the lasers to scoot back into their tunnels as soon as their targets were destroyed.

What else am I forgetting ?

To surrender. But that was out of the question now. The two blasted rigs and the bodies around them had closed that door. She zoomed in on the solitary figure still standing, legs spread, arms folded across his chest. Mary couldn't make her own suit do that. Wonder if that means their suits are better or worse than ours? Wonder if I offed that one, would they all go home? She doubted it. “Lieutenant, they're still coming but hopping. Should we toss a few more rockets at them?”

“Spread out, we wouldn't get many. We don't have enough to trade one rocket for three or four men. No, Sergeant, we wait for them to bunch up again. Then we'll cut 'em down.”

Mary didn't like what she was hearing, but she couldn't fault his logic. She switched channels. “Lek, when are those reinforcements gonna get here?”

“They haven't left. Oh, they've pulled A company out of rummaging through luggage, but the transports are spread to hell and gone.”

“What happened to that crazy lady who was going to put rockets down on the transports?”

Lek snorted. “She's got her rockets and got her command unit to program them, but the fire control computers don't have any power cables.”

“Lek, don't tell me they need a special cable.”

“Okay, I won't tell you.”

“These apes could never run a mine.”

“Ever move a mine halfway across human space, offload it three times at busy stations, shuffle the shipping containers and then try to get it put back together in two days? Mary, they're doing the best they can.”

“Lek, we got guys hopping toward us who intend to kill us. Even your mild disposition has got to take offense at that.”

“Ain't no use getting the dander up over what you can't do nothing about. Now you stay cool, young lady.”

Only Lek would think of her as young or a lady. Mary again checked the situation before her. Nothing had changed, except the guys with guns were closer. No, there were more rigs on the plain, just their side of the escarpment. “Lieutenant, have you noticed the new stuff showing up back there?”

“Yes, Sergeant. A full battery of six rocket launchers, six tube artillery and what looks like a command van. I watched them come up. I think the troop carriers they sent back are headed this way, probably loaded with more rockets and shells.”

“How can you sound so damn calm?” Mary snapped. “They're gonna flatten us.”

“ 'Cause I got no rockets with the range.” He answered her like she might speak to a newbie in the mines. “All we can do is hit them where we can and take what they throw at us.”

“We can hit them.” Mary whispered the secret.

“With what?”

“We've got four SS-12's. They've got a range of fifteen klicks, don't they?”

“You bunch of pot-bellied, sticky-fingered jokers walked off with four SS-12's.” The lieutenant sounded almost giddy.

“Well, we had to have something up our sleeves, lieutenant.”

The kid was laughing. “I love you crazy bunch of military disasters. Where're the Twelves set up?”

“In the rill, with the rest of the rockets.”

“That makes it ten klicks to the escarpment, another one or two to the targets. I'd been thinking of wheeling a couple of Threes into the gap to see if they could do something. Now, we got four that can really do the job.”

“Shall I lay in coordinates and launch them?”

There was a long pause. Mary wondered if the young man had heard her. “Lieutenant, should I...” she started slowly.

“No, Mary. Let me think for a minute.” He was really letting his hair down, what little his buzz cut left him. He'd even called her Mary. “You've been a miner all your life, Mary. You ever find an ore vein and have to wait to flush it out? Is there any mineral that has to be aged in place?”

“No, sir.” The LT knew nothing about mining.

“My instructors said timing was everything. Now I think I understand. If we blast their artillery now, they can adjust their battle plan for what's left. No, Mary, we wait until they commit. Wait until there's a lot of junk in the air and they won't know what to hit with a laser bolt. No battle plan survives contact with the enemy. Let's wait and make that poor bastard's plan go to hell in a handbasket.”

Mary grinned; the kid did know how to fight. She went back to her display. The advancing infantry were moving faster, made bold by the lack of attention. She focused on the guy who'd spent such a long time staring her way. He was moving toward a big, boxy rig with a garden of antennas on its top and side. The lieutenant said a command van had arrived. She could spot only one of those boxy bad-hair-day things. That made it the command van, and that fellow the guy giving the orders to kill them. You’re management. You die first.

Now, how do I fight this damn battle?

Major Longknife stepped into his command van. His four staff officers were busy bringing their boards up to date. Most of what the boards showed he'd watched with his own eyes. Here, it was displayed by platoons and with rate of advance precisely calculated. His troops would be at the rim in ten minutes.

Longknife rested a hand on his sensor coordinator. 'Tanaka, there's something out there I can't figure out.”

“Yeah, I watched that attack from the artillery net. They got this place wired, but they're either load limited or low on expendables. I would have targeted every troop carrier out there. Why just two buggies?”

“I've been asking myself that for the last hour. Haven't got an answer yet. You?”

“No, Sir.”

“What I can do is adapt, scatter the troops until they're not worth a rocket, and next time we go in, make sure their laser illuminators aren't worth a damn.” The major chinned his mike. “Artillery, what's your smoke situation?”

“Maybe not as good as I thought it was. We biased the unit of fire for the real thing. I've got WP, but maybe not as much as we could use.”

“Tell base camp to load extra smoke on the resupply run.”

“Santiago's already got the troop carriers headed back.”

“Tell him he's too damn fast. Turn the last carrier around and have it reloaded with white phosphorus.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Okay, folks, here's what we're gonna do.” And together, the major and his team started putting together the familiar pieces that had won the 2nd so many battles before.

Mary was kicking herself. She'd concentrated so much on defending the platoon's position, she hadn't put that much thinking into defending herself. Most of the riflemen headed her way would hit the rim on the other side of the gap or damn close to it on this side. Still about forty would wash up on the other side of her and walk by her place on their way to the gap.

What are the chances they won't notice my hidey-hole?

Damn slim, with a centimeter gap on both sides of the door. Mary called up the map of the rim's innards. There were other chambers; quickly she sent the moles digging. She needed a bolt-hole. Things were getting complicated.

Captain Santiago scowled at the returning troop carrier that now was an ammunition carrier. The driver had to be crazy to race a carrier, overloaded with explosives, but this one was. It made a hard left turn and slid to a rocking halt not two meters from the loading dock. The driver was out of it in a flash.

“Major wants smoke,” the excited driver shouted, forgetting his comm link carried a whisper just as well. “He's got enough high explosive. You got to reload me quick with Willy Peter.”

Santiago threw open the rear door to the carrier. Forty shells in their plastic cradles were crammed on the floor. Every shell was stamped with WP/V, white phosphorus modified for vacuum, or Willy Peter, if you preferred. Each round was laced with crystals to dazzle lasers and heat to blind infrared sensors. A perfect screen for a man to hide behind on a battlefield. “Damn it. You are loaded with Willy Peter.”

The driver looked over the captain's shoulder. “Nobody told me what I was carrying, sir. Artillery just said come back.”

Santiago gritted his teeth; artillery wouldn't know any better. There'd been no time to inventory the load out to each carrier. He'd assumed artillery wanted it fast. To hell with the paperwork. It had worked—except for this load.

“Soldier, now you know what you got. You are a bat out of hell, so drive like one and get this chaff up the line.”

The trooper whirled and bounced off the carrier as he overshot his 180-degree turn. He took two running steps that didn't sit well with the moon's lower gravity and snagged the door to the driver's station before he fell flat on his face. Pulling himself into the seat, he got the rig moving before the door closed.

Captain Santiago chinned his mike. “Artillery, I got a load of WP headed your way just slightly below light speed. I'll have a couple of more loads waiting for you as soon as you get me some rigs to put them in.”

“We'll unload them fast on this end. Thanks for the quick turnaround. I figured you for another five minutes.”

“Don't thank me, thank the driver. Assuming the kid doesn't nosedive into a crater. Santiago out.” No use telling him he could've had the WP ten minutes sooner if he hadn't sent the kid in circles. In the eons of time and space, ten minutes wouldn't matter. Santiago tasted the lie. He'd been under fire; he knew how long a minute could be.

Mary checked the outside situation. In the last five minutes they'd gotten closer. Here and there, pairs of soldiers had reached the rim and waited. Inside, the moles had found a place that might save her life—if they had enough time to do their thing. They were chomping away happily on rocks, leaving Mary to wonder if she'd finally given away too much, taken too little. Cassie was always telling her she couldn't make everyone happy. Mary swallowed hard and checked outside.

Troops were bunching up as they reached the rim. That promoted them to targets, but not easy ones. Mary had a mole redrill a hole at an extreme downward slant and sent a designator into it. A one-second light-up was all she risked before sending it scuttling back deep into the rock. The Unity artillery still had time to get a fix; a shell smashed where it had been ten seconds ago.

The designator squealed as it shook. Still, it reported available when things settled down. Mary was none too happy with the test; the targeting beam had still been ten meters out from the foot of the rim. Well, rockets needed a place to explode and scatter flechettes. That would have to do. She got six moles moving to redeploy lasers. More and more hostiles were at the rim, staying fairly spread out, but still worth a rocket.

“Lieutenant, I think I'm going to need a few missiles in a minute or two.”

“We'll have to do this quick. Their artillery has a hair trigger.” As if she hadn't noticed. “Sergeant, you also have company.”

“Yes, sir,” Mary growled. “If you give me a half dozen rockets, I can send one my way without making a spectacle of myself.”

'The rockets are yours. Good shooting.”

This shoot would have to be timed to the split second. “Lek, I need six missiles programmed for a quick U turn as they come out of the canisters. Can you do it?”

“Piece of cake, miner. I can hold them to a one-klick popup. They'll go a few klicks out, then turn back. How do you think the Unies will take to getting rockets in their backside?”

“Maybe they'll bitch to whoever's running those guns and give them a good case of 'Did I do that?'“ Mary managed a chuckle. While Lek finished his programming, the moles dug her hiding place.

'They're yours.” Lek came back on. “Use two on the rifles at your doorstep.”

So the others knew her predicament. Moisture rimmed Mary's eyes. Hadn't been many in her life who cared, certainly not when the missile that saved her life might be the one that wasn't there to save his. Blinking the water away, Mary got back to business. “Three to each side of the crater, and only one on my doorstep. Don't want to hang a welcome mat out.”

“You got a fallback position, Mary?” Lek asked.

“Working on one now.”

'Take care.”

“If I was careful, I wouldn't be here,” Mary breathed as she switched off. She did one more check. Lasers were warm, but not in place. She edged them forward. Holding her breath, she punched six missiles out.

“Rockets incoming,” sensors shouted.

Major Longknife twisted around to face the sensor station. “Any laser designators?”

“None pointing. I got strange electromagnetic emissions, but they don't match anything in the Earthies' inventory.”

“Artillery.” Longknife kept his voice even. “I want WP out there. Air burst at a hundred meters.”

“On the way.”

“Any laser rifles in range?”

“Two LR's at maximum range.”

“Not much help. Artillery, as soon as the lasers light up, I want them smashed.”

“We got twelve rounds of Willy Peter out there,” artillery reported, “and we're reloading with high explosive. Few problems can't be solved with a round of HE.”

“Good.” Longknife settled back. It would be a battle between their measures and his countermeasures. He glanced at the sensors board; the rockets stayed low. A laser missed. Its target was turning back. “They're aimed at the rim. Of course.”

Mary waited for the missiles to start their turn back to the rim before she lit off the designators. One by one the six red dots on her heads-up display turned to green. Target acquired.

Then all hell broke lose.

The infrared sensors lit up like a fire. The lasers chirped in protest as the missiles' dots turned black. Targets not acquired. Quickly, Mary changed to vid. Giant puffs of white stuff blossomed along the rim, blocking the lasers.

“Willy Peter, Mary.” The LT's voice filled her helmet. “They've blanketing you with white phosphorus. Thick to stop lasers, hot to stop infrared. It'll settle, but in low grav not very fast. The missiles should home on where they were targeted, I hope. Douse your lasers and get them out of there.”

Right. Mary had read about WP as a countermeasure for lasers. Damn, why hadn't she thought about it? Quickly she ordered her lasers to scoot back. On second thought, she ordered everything to scoot. Rocks around her shook. Her missiles were hitting something. Then the chamber really shuddered. Mary danced around like an upped hopper, wishing she had the drugs in her that gave the hoppers the energy as well as the oblivion.

Major Longknife scowled. “Check fire, check fire. Flying rocks are doing their job for 'em.”

“Roger.” The artillery barrage ceased. The rain of rocks and boulders on his troops stopped. Wonder how many sensors we killed? How many of our own troops? Damn war.

The incoming rockets had been bad enough. A laser rifle had gotten only one. Some ballsy assault rifle had clipped another. It hadn't done much good; inertia kept the pieces going in loose formation. Most troops had taken off hopping as soon as it was clear where a rocket was heading. Still, flechettes had gotten too many, and the rockets' flight had been short. Unspent solid fuel, still flaming, had speckled others. Plasti-armor that could stop a flechette burned if heated enough. The computer took the injured off net, but not before the first horrible screams. War never got easy.

“Artillery, you got any empty carriers?”

“Some. Was about to head them back for more smoke and HE.”

“Hang red crosses, stars, and crescents on 'em and send them out there.”

“You don't think they'll shoot 'em?”

“Won't know what kind of war these folks came to fight until we see, will we?”

“Right, sir, I'll ask for life-saver volunteers.”

“Get 'em out there, and get your gunners ready. I'm gonna start the show any time now.”

The ambulances were a mercy—and a mission. Buddies were caring for buddies. So long as first aid was the priority, combat was a distant second. But once their mates were turned over to the medics, the blood lust would come flooding back to the survivors. The major glanced around. His artillery was ready. D and E companies were ready to roll. Get the wounded off the field, and it would be time. Longknife gave himself ten minutes.

Mary risked two vids. The scene they showed was horrible.

Two hundred people Had been huddled under the rim when the missiles came. There were still two hundred battle suits out there, but a lot of them weren't people anymore.

She'd never considered unspent rocket fuel a weapon. Burning figures withered on the ground, trying to put out fire that carried its own oxidizer. The lucky ones sluffed the fuel off as they rolled in the dust. No, the lucky were the ones just lying there, dead and burning.

“God, what have I done?”

A red light flashed, drawing her attention to the top of the picture. Wheeled vehicles were making their way down the escarpment. They were going slower than she'd expect for an attack rush, but Mary no longer trusted anything in battle to be reasonable. “Lieutenant, we got wheels headed our way.”

“Show me.”

Happy to get away from the close-in picture, Mary zoomed in on a pair of the approaching rigs.

“No shooting this time, Mary. Those carriers have red crosses on 'em. They're ambulances, come for the wounded. We don't shoot at red crosses.”

No way would Mary shoot at something come to take those wretched pictures out of her vision. She shuddered; it would take more than ambulances to get them out of her memory. She'd burned and slashed and killed them. And they'd do the same to her if they got a chance. “Lieutenant, mind taking over the big picture for a while? I got housekeeping chores to do.”

“Dig deep, Mary. We've got a truce while the ambulances are on the field. I'll mind the store.”

Mary started looking for places to hide.

“They're leaving the ambulances alone,” sensors whispered as if even a strong word might disturb the delicate peace.

“Might as well. They know we know how to cover vehicles now,” artillery butted in.

“Let's credit virtue where it's due,” Ray muttered. “Artillery, your crew ready?”

“Just say the word.”

“Enough of the right stuff?”

“I'd like more WP, but you know where my ammo carriers are.”

“Yeah.”

“Sir,” whispered sensors, “shouldn't we go now? The more time we give them, the better dug in they'll be.”

“Yes, son, but B and C companies are out of it. Their officers and noncoms need time to put them back into fighting order. D and E are our reserves, but only E's got armored carriers. I don't want to send them forward until B and C are in solid contact. And I got a flag of truce on the field. They're honoring it, and I don't intend to make this war any viler than it has to be. We will honor our own flag of truce.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But that doesn't mean we don't think for the next ten minutes. We've tapped them. They've tapped us. To hell with love taps. I want a knockout next. So far, I don't even know what I'm up against.”

“Sir, I think I've got something,” said sensors slowly.

“I'm listening.”

“I told you the background electromagnetic noise from the rim didn't match any stuff in the Earthies' inventory.”

“Right.”

“I think I got a picture of what these folks are using.” Ray's heads-up changed to an up-close picture of the rim. Shells had gouged it; something dangled from the rock.

“What's that?” artillery asked.

“It's not military issue,” sensors answered. “It took a major search of the database to find. It's the latest commercial infrared sensor. They use it in mines. It cost a fortune.”

“We're facing mining equipment?” Artillery wasn't persuaded.

“It looks like that to me.” Sensors stood his ground.

“That might explain a lot,” Longknife said slowly. “They've dug in faster than I expected. They've got a few savvy types and a lot of dumb ones. And all of them are green. Okay, crew. What do we do with that assumption? We got ten minutes before I want to kick this off. Talk to me.”

Ten minutes can go quickly when experts at organized mayhem put their minds to it.

The seconds ticked by, each one an hour long and not nearly long enough. Mary had nothing to do while the moles did their thing. Into that time-twisted void crept visions of the hell Mary had created. She didn't turn on the vid. She didn't have to. All her life, Mary had been ... well, if not a good girl, at least a woman who kept out of trouble. Go to work. Give the man his time. Don't talk back. And cover your mouth when you laugh at the boss man or brown-noser as they get theirs.

Mary got what she deserved. A few beers with friends. A few parties. Here and there a night worth remembering. That was life, thank you very much. Now she had killed. Good God, how she had killed. Now she could pray. Pray that there was no God to see what she'd done. Outside were people, buddies of the ones she'd killed. All she had to do was open the door. They'd find her. One shot from a needle rifle and she wouldn't have to worry about forgetting the pictures. One shot, hell. They'd probably empty their magazines into her. She wouldn't feel a thing.

Mary fingered the door. The jacks would swivel it. They'd do the rest. Through her trembling fingertips, Mary felt movement on the other side. They were coming for her.

“Sergeant, take a look at this.” “Private, get a move on. We're wanted at the pass.” “Nothin's gonna happen 'til the ambulances are out of here. Take a look, Sergeant. There's a hole in the rock.”

“There's holes all over this damn rock.”

“Yeah, but not in a straight line.”

“Straight line?” The sergeant had gone outside the rock outcropping. The private had taken the inside. Two other privates had joined him by the time the sergeant got back.

“Shit, look.” The second private fingered the gap in the rocky wall. “It's straight, and as wide as my little finger.”

“You mean prick,” put in the third private.

“You're just jealous, honey. I got one and you don't.” He leaned against the rock. “Doesn't move.”

“Honey, you never could make the earth move. Now me, baby cakes, I can make it shake, rattle, and roll.” She patted her hips, or more precisely, the satchel of explosives hanging there. “Move out of my way, boy, and I'll show you how a woman does it.”

“Hold your horses, Roz,” the sergeant put in as he joined them. “We got ambulances on the field. Nobody blows nothing while we're under the red crescent.”

“Course, Roz, if you got your heart set on blowing something, I'm available.”

“Go blow yourself, before I use some C-20 to do it for you. Sergeant, somebody's had us under observation since we started. That somebody's caused us a lot of grief. If that somebody's behind this rock, I want his ass.”

“Okay, Roz, I'll call it up, but close that satchel. Nobody does nothin' til I get the word. Understood?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” three privates echoed like four-year-olds.

Mary waited for the door to blow in, crush her under its stony weight. “Mary,” Cassie's voice whispered in her helmet, “you've been off net for a long time. You okay?”

“Yes,” Mary sniffled. “No problem here.”

“Doesn't sound like no problem to me.”

“Okay, you want a problem. How do you blow your nose in one of these damn ape suits?”

“You got me. Don't think they made them with crying in mind. Want me to ask the lieutenant?”

“For God's sake, no!”

“Want to talk about it, Mary?”

She sniffed hard, trying to get control of all the drips. Then she sneezed, splattering phlegm all over the inside of her faceplate. Most of it ran down in thin streaks. The faceplate was supposed to be streak-free. It almost was. The suit already stank of fear and sweat.

“I just killed a lot of people,” Mary finally said.

“So? That's what they sent us here to do.”

“No, I just killed a lot of people. I saw them. Lying out there burning.”

“I know,” Cassie whispered. “I saw the vid, too.”

“But I'm the one that killed them.”

“Yeah, I know. You laid out the sensors all by yourself. Emplaced the rockets, programmed them. Did it all yourself. Good going, girl.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No you're not, Mary. If we hadn't blasted those two rigs, if we hadn't stomped them at the rim, they'd have rolled right over us a half hour ago. How many of us would be dead? Me, Lek, Nan, Dumont , definitely the lieutenant. How many, Mary?”

“I don't know.”

“Neither do I. But you saved our asses, Mary, and we're kind of glad for it. Now, you go take care of yourself, girl.”

“Thanks, Cassie. It's good to know someone cares. I owe you a beer.”

“Then you definitely take care of yourself. I need all the free beer I can get at my age.”

“Cassie, I got a few things to do. Call you back in a couple of minutes.”

“If you don't, I'll call you. We need you, girl. Dig in good. If anybody knows how, you do.”

“Thanks. Mary out.” Mary glanced around her cell. Not much bigger than her apartment in the belt. Over there was room for the bed. The cook space was opposite it. The couch would go against the door leaving a whole wall for the vid center. Where do I hide, under the bed or in the closet?

The moles must have finished. The jacks skittered away from the original door and headed for a corner. Mary got down on her hands and knees. Yeah, under the bed sounded good.

She grabbed her gun and started crawling.