“Colonel Six came here to steal supplies,” Santana began.
“That much seems clear. Based on the reports that Captain Arvo Smith fi?led, the decision to take hostages was clearly made on the fl?y. Plus, the Seebos had about fi?fty civilians on call, which further substantiates that premise. But,” Santana continued, “according to what I read, Colonel Six and his men were rather choosy about what they took. A list of the stolen items was included in the report submitted by Captain Smith. What wasn’t available at the regimental level, was a list of what Colonel Six could have taken, but didn’t. If we compare the two lists, we should be able to get a pretty good idea of what the clone bastard plans to do next.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Suki said admiringly. “You’re smarter than you look! Sergeant Diker! You’ve been listening in—and don’t pretend you weren’t. Pull up a list of the supplies that were on hand the day the clones arrived—and put that side by side with what they actually took.”
A corporal brought the offi?cers mugs of hot caf while Diker summoned the data Santana had requested, formatted the results, and sent the product to a printer. Millar plucked his copy right out of midair by tapping into the low-power wireless network.
With hard copy in hand, Santana began a systematic review of both lists. Most of the stolen items were what any guerrilla fi?ghter would want, including food, ammo, and com gear. One piece of which included the locator beacon that had been used to track him down a couple of days earlier. Of course, other things had been stolen as well—including a signifi?cant quantity of medical supplies.
But of more interest were ten Shoulder-Launched Multipurpose Assault Weapons (SMAW), and sixty 83mm HighExplosive Dual-Purpose (HEDP) Rockets, which was twice, if not three times, the number of SMAWs a company of Seebos would normally carry. The question was why? Because the weapons were available? Or to equip the guerrilla fi?ghters for a specifi?c mission?
Now that he had it in front of him, Santana could see that the other list, the one that laid out what Six could have absconded with, included six 60mm mortars, which would be perfect for guerrilla fi?ghting, a generous quantity of high explosives that would be just right for blowing bridges, and four surface-to-air missile launchers with heat-seeking rockets. Weapons that would have given the Seebos the theoretical capacity to knock fi?ghters out of the sky. But rather than select any of those items, Six chose ten SMAWs. It soon became apparent that having reviewed both lists, and having given the matter some thought, Suki was thinking along similar lines. “I never thought about it before,” the senior offi?cer admitted reluctantly, “but why steal so many shoulder tubes? Unless the bastard plans to go tank hunting.”
“I think that’s exactly what he has in mind,” Santana responded grimly. “Though not in the way you mean. Sergeant Diker . . . Please pull up all of the holding areas or similar facilities where Colonel Six could potentially lay his hands on allied armor. That includes tanks, APCs (armored personnel carriers), and anything else you can think of.”
“How far, sir?” the noncom wanted to know, his fi?ngers already tapping away.
“One hundred miles around this fi?rebase,” the legionnaire answered. “Prioritize those facilities located to the east of us—and those that have the smallest footprint. After all,”
Santana observed thoughtfully. “Why attack a big base, if you can get what you need from a small one?”
There was barely enough time to take another sip of coffee before the answer came back. The light from the computer screen gave Diker’s face a bluish tint. “Using those parameters the most likely location would be Refueling Station 32, which belongs to the 3rd Force Support Group. It’s located about sixty-four miles east of here—at the point where the road starts up toward Tow-Tok Pass. There aren’t any armored units based at RS-32, but plenty of tanks and APCs stop for fuel there, before heading up over the hump. Both the second and third hits are relatively large battalionstrength repair and maintenance outfi?ts.”
There was a loud thump as Santana’s fi?st hit the surface of the table. “Yes! That’s exactly the kind of place Six would choose! Especially now that everyone is on the lookout for him. Assuming RS-32 is the same one that I’m thinking of, we passed it a few days ago, and a squad of half-drunk store clerks could take it!
“All Six would have to do is sneak up on RS-32 with his SMAWs at the ready, wait until the depot was empty, and put the fi?rst rocket into the com mast. The second, third, and fourth rounds would be used to neutralize weapons emplacements if necessary. Otherwise, he would simply walk in!
What would a refueling depot have?” the legionnaire wondered. “Six bio bods and an equal number of robots? They wouldn’t stand a chance. The next vehicles to arrive might, or might not, be to his liking. If not, he would let them go. But if they met his requirement, Colonel Six would commandeer them, top off their tanks, and drive them up over the pass. Because that would not only get his Seebos into combat sooner—but give his troops an edge once they arrive!”
Suki was clearly impressed. “Not bad, Captain, not bad at all. . . . Of course there are some big ifs in your plan, but assuming the bastard wants to kill bugs, then that’s where he would go.”
“Let’s get Station 32 on the horn,” Santana suggested.
“So we can warn them.”
Five long minutes passed while a com tech repeatedly sought to make contact with the tiny base. But there was no response. “I think you’d better get ahold of Regimental Command,” Santana said as he came to his feet. “Tell them to send a rapid-response force to RS-32. . . . And tell them to be very careful once they arrive.”
Then, having tossed a salute toward Colonel Suki, Santana made for the surface. Millar was right behind him. And, because the cyborg had already been in radio communication with the fl?y-form, the other legionnaire’s engines were beginning to spool up as Santana entered the passenger compartment. The boxy transport was airborne four minutes later and headed southeast. Millar was strapped in by that time. “You nailed that one, sir,” the recon ball said. “But I have a question. . . .”
Santana’s thoughts were miles away, and he had forgotten all about Millar. “Yes? What’s that?”
“Well, sir,” Millar said hesitantly. “What if we arrive before the rapid-response team? And Colonel Six is still there?”
It was something Santana should have considered but hadn’t. He smiled. “Then we’ll land and order the sonofabitch to surrender!”
Millar laughed, but when Santana didn’t, the junior offi?cer wondered if the cavalry offi?cer was serious! And that was scary, because the special ops offi?cer had been killed in action once, and had no desire to repeat the experience. But Millar needn’t have worried, because by the time the fl?y-form arrived over Refueling Station 32, an armed shuttle and rapid-response team were on the ground. And, judging from all of the troops that were milling around, and the smoke still pouring out of what remained of the depot’s com hut, some sort of action had already
