long time to arrive—and were too big to operate effectively within the confi?nes of the metal maze. Plus, were he to strip the big walkers of the protection offered by the fi?rst platoon’s T-2s, it would make the cyborgs vulnerable to an infantry attack. So, having considered the alternatives, the offi?cer decided to leave the fi?rst platoon where it was. Even though it was the offi?cer’s job to lead the legionnaires, that became impossible as the cyborgs passed through the enemy’s ranks, and the members of the second platoon found themselves inside a nightmarish world of speeding bodies, stuttering weapons, and shrill command whistles. Because of the chaos, and the speed with which the battle was being fought, all of the tactical decisions had to be made by the T-2s regardless of whatever rank the bio bod they were carrying might hold. There simply wasn’t enough time for the process to work any other way.
That meant that as Deker circled a burned-out APC in an attempt to get the drop on a Ramanthian rocket team—it was Santana’s responsibility to provide the cyborg with security. So when a Ramanthian fi?red at Deker from the right, the offi?cer was there to gun the bug down, even as the borg ran over an alien soldier. Chitin crackled as it shattered, and the alien uttered a nearly human scream, as Deker kept going. Though busy trying to protect Deker’s six, Santana noticed that the volume of fi?re coming out of the pile of wreckage had fallen off, suggesting that Millar had made contact with the people within. But if that was good, other things weren’t so good, as a shoulder-launched missile struck Private Mary Volin between the shoulder blades and blew up. Her body must have shielded Private Shalo Shaley to some extent, because the T-2 survived the hit, even if the cyborg didn’t want to. Because Shaley had been in love with Volin, and the bio bod’s death spurred the Trooper II into a frenzy of killing.
With the bio bod’s grisly remains still fl?apping around on her blood-spattered back, Shaley went looking for any Ramanthian she could fi?nd, killing each with the ruthless effi?ciency of an avenging angel. Most of the alien soldiers were already dead by that time. In fact, so many of them had been killed that their bodies lay in drifts, like the snow that was already beginning to cover them, as the raging T-2
ran out of ammo and stomped a wounded Ramanthian to death.
Sergeant Ramos had a zapper in hand as he went to intervene. None of the other legionnaires knew what he said to the cyborg, since it was off the push, but whatever it was worked because the noncom was able to lead Shaley away without having to zap her. Which was the only way a bio bod could bring an intransigent cyborg under control. Meanwhile, as bio bods dismounted to search the dead for anything that might be of interest to the intelligence people, they also collected anything that might be of use to the company in the future. Not the Ramanthian assault rifles, because they were awkward to fi?re, but energy grenades, which were better than CSB issue in certain situations, plus the highly prized grain bars that many of the bugs carried in their packs, and which tasted like honey. Their helmet lights bobbed and swayed as they probed the battlefi?eld for loot, adding yet another otherworldly element to an alreadysurreal scene. And that was the situation that Santana was presiding over as an additional light appeared and Millar emerged from the surrounding murk with a woman in tow. A knit cap covered her hair. She had a softly rounded face, a snub nose, and generous lips. The clothing the woman wore con- sisted of a mishmash of Hegemony-issue items that had been altered as necessary and layered to create the semblance of a winter uniform. That was overlaid by a combat vest at least one size too big for her, and the whole outfi?t was dusted with snow. But there was nothing amateurish about the Marine-Corps- issue carbine cradled in her arms or the look in her brown eyes. It was hard and calculating.
“This is Hoyt-11,791,” Millar announced. “She’s in command of the CVA company that the bugs were working so hard to eradicate.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Santana said as he jumped to the ground. “My name is Santana. I’m in command of Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st REC.”
“Thank you for coming to our rescue,” Seven-ninety-one said soberly. “We wouldn’t have been able to hold out much longer.” Her voice had a husky quality that Santana found attractive.
“At some point our forces tried to clear the area of wreckage by making a big pile,” Millar explained. “Having been ambushed as they passed through the battlefi?eld, the Hoyts crawled inside and fought back. It made a pretty good fort.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t arrive earlier,” Santana said. “How many of you are there?”
“Fifty-seven when the battle began,” the clone answered succinctly, “and thirty-one now.”
“I’m sorry,” Santana said sympathetically. “But you were right to put up a fi?ght. They would have slaughtered you otherwise. Where were you headed? And what were you supposed to do?”
“We have orders to join the 181st Labor Battalion,” Sevenninety-one answered. “As for what we’re supposed to do, well, no one told us that. We’re offi?ce administrators from Alpha-002. So it’s hard to imagine what they had in mind for us.”
Santana swore, then caught himself. “Sorry, ma’am, but sending offi?ce workers into a combat zone has got to be one of the stupidest things I ever heard of. Have you got any transportation?”
“No,” the woman replied. “Our truck was destroyed in the ambush.”
That was a problem because Santana knew the bio bods wouldn’t be able to keep up with the cyborgs and would be extremely vulnerable if left on their own.
“Some of them could ride in the quads,” Millar put in helpfully.
“I suppose,” the cavalry offi?cer allowed. “But what about the rest?”
“They could ride on top of the quads, and jump off if we take fi?re,” Millar answered.
The legionnaire eyed the Hoyt. Snowfl?akes caught in her eyelashes and forced her to blink. “You and your people would be exposed to both the weather and enemy fi?re up there,” Santana cautioned.
Seven-ninety-one shrugged. “We were exposed in the truck,” she said fatalistically. “And riding beats walking.”
“Okay,” Santana agreed. “Do you have any objections to taking orders from Lieutenant Millar here for the duration of your stay with us?”
The Hoyt looked at the hovering recon ball and back again. If the prospect of reporting to a cyborg bothered the woman, she gave no sign of it. “No, sir,” she said formally.
“That’s fi?ne with me.”
The cavalry offi?cer nodded. “All right, Lieutenant, take care of your people. Make sure they scrounge all the good stuff they can fi?nd. I have a feeling everything is going to be in short supply up ahead. Perhaps Seven- ninety-one would be good enough to help identify the dead. And let’s lay them out where the graves registration
