boat by that time and engines screamed as the ship began to lift. “Hey, you!” one of the Seebos said angrily, as Deker carried him down into the body-strewn crater. “How dare you fi?re on us! Bring the assault boat back. . . . The navy is supposed to extract us!”
There was a resounding boom as a shoulder-launched missile hit the ship’s port engine, blew a hole in it, and caused the boat to roll. It landed upside down, skidded for about fi?fty feet, and burst into fl?ames. Santana was pleased to see two fi?gures crawl out of the inverted cockpit and scurry away. But the wounded weren’t so lucky. The company commander’s voice boomed through speakers built into the war form’s body as he turned back toward the clone. “And you are?”
“Lieutenant Jonathan Alan Seebo-179,620,” the clone offi?cer answered haughtily, as a spent round hit Deker’s chest. It made a pinging sound as it bounced off.
“My name is Santana,” the legionnaire replied evenly.
“And I command Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st REC.
You and your men can help us take that power plant or die in this crater. Which would you prefer?”
The clone heard a bullet zing over his head and scowled resentfully. “We’ll come with you.”
“Good choice,” Santana replied. “Your call sign will be Alpha Two-Zero. Split your men between the quads—and let’s get the hell out of here.”
The Ramanthian in command of the powerful STO battery at the south end of the valley chose that moment to fi?re a salvo. The energy cannons were so powerful that the energy bolts they fi?red broke the sound barrier before they disappeared into space. The recoil caused the ground to shake. The better part of fi?fteen minutes would pass before the gun emplacement’s huge accumulators could store enough power to fi?re again. “Damn!” Deker exclaimed, as he carried the company commander up out of the crater. “Why don’t the swabbies bomb those things?”
“The Intel people say the bugs have more than a thousand civilians locked up under that gun emplacement,” Santana replied grimly. “So it’s up to us.”
Deker chose to accept the explanation, but both legionnaires knew that the bugs might very well execute the POWs, especially if it looked like the STO weapons were about to be captured. As the Seebos scurried aboard the quads, and Deker found level ground, Sergeant Suresee Fareye made his report. Like Dietrich, the Naa had served with Santana before, and had an almost supernatural ability to fi?nd his way through any terrain. He was mounted on Private Ka Nhan, and the two legionnaires were concealed in a farm building approximately one mile south of the burnedout crater. “Alpha Six-Four to Alpha Six. Over.”
“This is Six,” Santana replied, as he glanced at the data projected onto his HUD. “Go.”
“Four, repeat four, Gantha II tanks are coming out to play,” Fareye said, as he peered out through a hole in the south wall of a barn. Six genetically perfect cattle had been left in the building, and they bawled miserably as the Naa continued his report. “The Ganthas are supported by a couple dozen armored personnel carriers all loaded with troops. Estimated time to fi?rst contact fi?ve minutes. Over.”
Santana swore silently. Even though he’d been aware that the Ramanthians would probably throw some tanks at him the legionnaire had been hoping for more time. A quick look at the HUD confi?rmed that the wind was blowing up the valley toward the dam. “Roger that,” he replied. “Pull back, Six-Four. . . . Alpha Six to Alpha One-Six. Send the fi?rst squad forward to lay smoke east to west. . . . But I don’t want them sucked into a fi?refi?ght. Out.”
“This is Alpha One-Six,” Lieutenant Lucy Amoyo replied.
“Smoke but don’t engage. We’re going in. Out.”
The last sentence seemed to indicate that Amoyo was planning to lead the evolution personally in spite of Santana’s instructions to “. . . send the fi?rst squad up.” And a quick check of the ITC confi?rmed that impression. A fraction of a second passed while the company commander considered the pros and cons of pulling the platoon leader back. Then, having decided that no great harm was likely to come of Amoyo’s decision, Santana let the matter go. Alpha Company was up to full speed by that time, closing with the enemy at a combined speed of thirty miles per hour as chits on both sides of the valley continued to fi?re on them. Having called for air support, Dietrich gave a grunt of approval as a pair of navy Daggers roared overhead, and banked over the dam. Triple A burst all around the fi?ghters. One of them lost a wing and tumbled into a cliff, where it exploded. Consistent with their instructions, the second fi?ghter made a run at the tanks. A stick of bombs fell, explosions blossomed, and one of the beetle-shaped monsters took a direct hit. “This is Rover Four-Zero,” the pilot said laconically, as she passed over the company. “I’m running on fumes—sorry we couldn’t do more. Over.”
Dietrich thought about the pilot who had just lost his or her life. “You did good, Four-Zero, real good. Thanks. Over.”
Meanwhile, having arrived at a point halfway between the Ramanthians and Alpha Company, Amoyo took a sharp right-hand turn and led the fi?rst squad toward the west side of the valley. That was more diffi?cult than it sounded because there were irrigation ditches, dry-fi?tted stone walls, and other obstacles to leap over. Not to mention the Cyon River, which was a good six feet deep at that point, and moving at a steady fi?ve miles per hour.
But the T-2s were more than up to the challenge and were moving so fast that, when the enemy tanks opened fi?re on them, the chits inside the big, beetle-shaped machines weren’t able to traverse their secondary weapons fast enough to catch up with the agile cyborgs.
So as geysers of soil and rock followed the legionnaires across the valley, Amoyo and her bio bods were free to sow smoke grenades like seeds. Each bomb produced a cloud of dense black smoke that would not only prevent the bugs from seeing Alpha Company but block targeting lasers and enemy range fi?nders as well. And, thanks to the tiny bits of burning plastic that were ejected by the grenades, the screen was at least partially effective against thermal-imaging devices, too. Amoyo swore as her T-2 jumped into the ice-cold river. The water had risen all the way up to her waist before the cyborg made it to the other side, where he splashed up onto the bank. The good news was that her mission had been accomplished, but now she was on the west side of the valley, and cut off from the rest of her platoon. Suddenly she understood why Captain Santana wanted Staff Sergeant Briggs to take the fi?rst squad out. And, as if to reinforce the lesson just learned, the company commander put Dietrich in charge of the rest of her platoon. His voice fl?ooded the company push.
“Alpha Six-Two will take command of the second squad, fi?rst platoon. Out.”
Amoyo heard Master Sergeant Dietrich say, “This is SixTwo. Roger, that. Out.” That left her with no option but to wheel toward the enemy and thereby reinforce the company’s right fl?ank.
