snow caused the light to fl?icker, as it threw ghostly shadows toward the west, and the steady pop, pop, pop of rifl?e fi?re was heard intermixed with the cloth-ripping sound of automatic weapons. “Alpha Six, this is Alpha SixSix,” the cyborg said, as he hovered next to an overturned truck. “There’s a huge junkyard directly in your path —and the snow is making it very diffi?cult to follow the road. Based on that, plus the fi?refi?ght under way up ahead, I recommend that the company stop short of the battlefi?eld and wait for morning. Over.”
“Roger that,” Santana replied. “Can you give me any additional intel on the fi?refi?ght? Over.”
“Negative,” Millar answered. “Not without going forward. Over.”
“Hold your position,” the company commander ordered. “I’ll bring the second platoon up to join you in a few minutes. Out.”
“Roger,” Millar confi?rmed. “Alpha Six-Six out.”
Santana ordered the company to halt, told Deker to fi?nd Amoyo, and was soon close enough to open his visor and talk to her off-line. Cold snow fl?akes began to kiss his face.
“Let’s circle the wagons, Lieutenant. . . . You can use both of the quads in the perimeter—but keep all your people combat-ready until the fi?refi?ght is over. I’ll take the second platoon forward to see what’s going on.”
Having allowed Colonel Six to get past her, Amoyo was feeling down, and would have welcomed an opportunity to redeem herself. More than that, she wondered whether Santana had lost faith in her—or was simply exercising his right to carry out the mission himself. Not that it made much difference, because all she could say was, “Yes, sir.”
Confi?dent that Amoyo would do a good job, and worried lest Second Lieutenant Zolkin blunder into a situation he wasn’t prepared to handle, Santana went looking for the other platoon leader and found the young man raring to go. Even if his tired legionnaires would have preferred to stay back. “We’re ready, sir,” Zolkin said enthusiastically. “Just say the word.”
Santana grinned behind his visor. “Thank you, Lieutenant. . . . I’m glad to hear it. Please put Staff Sergeant Pool and Corporal Torrez on drag. . . . And tell them to stay sharp. It would be easy for someone to get in behind us on a night like this.”
Because the orders had been delivered face-to-face rather than by radio, the instructions would seem to originate from the platoon leader thereby strengthening Zolkin’s position with the troops. Santana knew squad leader Pool wouldn’t like walking drag, but it was a very important slot, and would become even more so if both offi?cers were killed. In that situation, it would be her responsibility to assume command. With the second platoon strung out behind them, Santana and Deker followed Fareye and Ka Nahn into the maze of wrecked vehicles. Another fl?are went off, and cast an eerie glow across the battlefi?eld, as the muted thump, thump, thump of a heavy machine gun was heard. “Try all of the allied frequencies,” Santana ordered. “We need to warn those people that we’re coming in. It would be a shame to get shot by someone on our side.”
Deker was well aware of the dangers involved. He said,
“Yes, sir. I already have. Twice. But I’ll keep trying.”
It would have been nice to turn on their helmet lights in order to see where they were going, but that would be suicidal. So Santana was thankful for the steady succession of fl?ares that kept the area at least half-lit as Fareye led the column forward. They passed between a half-slagged hover tank and a burned-out truck, made their way down into a trash-strewn gully, and up the other side. A frozen human, his weapon still aimed at an invisible enemy, marked the edge of the fl?at area beyond. There was no way to know if he had been killed by a bullet or frozen to death.
“Alpha Six-Four to Alpha Six,” Fareye said, as he and his T-2 paused. “I see heat signatures up ahead. Lots of heat signatures. All of which appear to be Ramanthian. They seem completely unaware of our presence. Probably because they’re busy assaulting a big pile of wreckage. Over.”
“Roger that,” Santana answered, as Deker carried him down into the gully. “Hold your position. Bravo One-Six. Position your platoon in a line abreast. Use Alpha Six-Four as your center marker. Prepare for a sweep of the area ahead—
but caution your troops to keep their fi?re off the pile of wreckage where the friendlies are holed up. Over.”
“This is Bravo One-Six,” Zolkin replied. His voice was tight with either excitement or fear. “I read you. . . . Out.”
Santana eyed the display on his HUD, waited for the second platoon to swing into position, and was pleased to see the speed with which the evolution was executed. Zolkin had come a long way since the landing on Oron IV and was shaping up to be a good offi?cer. “Still no response on any of the allied frequencies, sir,” Deker put in over the intercom.
“Either they don’t have a com set, or they aren’t listening.”
“Thanks,” Santana said, as he eyed the constantly shifting blobs of heat in front of them. “Alpha Six to Alpha Six-Six. We’ve been unable to make radio contact with the allied unit up ahead. . . . Once we engage the enemy, I want you to go forward, and get in touch with the people in that pile of wreckage. Tell them who we are, take command if they will allow you to do so, and serve as liaison offi?cer if they won’t. Your fi?rst responsibility is keep them from fi?ring on us. Do you read me? Over.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Millar answered affi?rmatively. “Alpha SixSix out.”
“Alpha Six-Five will prepare to fi?re two fl?ares, and the second platoon will prepare to charge,” Santana continued.
“Readddy, fi?re! Readddy, charge!”
Deker was up and out of the gully before the additional fl?ares went off. Real cavalry charges were a rarity given the way most high-tech battles were fought, but the sudden attack out of the surrounding darkness could have taken place on the plains of Mongolia, in the Crimea, or at Gettysburg. Except that these steeds were sentient, could see in the dark, and were armed with weapons that would have been unimaginable two thousand years earlier. Someone yelled, “Camerone!” over the company push, and all hell broke loose. Having been caught by surprise, the bugs were forced to turn their backs on the pile of wreckage as the cyborgs swept toward them. Now, as Deker opened fi?re with both his fi?fty and his energy cannon, Santana realized there were more Ramanthians than he had bargained for. In addition to the enemy soldiers that had been visible before, more of the aliens came swarming up out of shell holes, emerged from hiding places in the surrounding wreckage, and returned fi?re. All of which caused the offi?cer to wonder if he should call upon Amoyo for reinforcements. But the quads would take a
