Perko shrugged. “Here’s hoping. I’ll take care of the tour for you.”
“Keep your head down,” Kobbi cautioned. “You’d look damned silly without it.”
The makeup job was far from perfect, but by putting on three sets of General-453’s underwear in order to better fi?ll out one of his uniforms, and by inserting a couple of Kelly’s two-inchby-two-inch gauze pads in his cheeks to make his face look puffi?er, Colonel Six was able to approximate the other offi?cer’s appearance. Would any of Four-fi?fty-three’s subordinates notice discrepancies? Probably, especially where subtle mannerisms were concerned, but it wouldn’t make any difference unless they had the courage to challenge the supreme commander. And that was unlikely. So that was the man who entered the underground command bunker at 2100 hours. It was a long narrow space that had been scooped out of the ground with a tank-mounted dozer blade, tidied up by hand, and spray-sealed to keep moisture out. Self-adhesive strip lights had been attached to the ceiling, two folding worktables took up the center of the room, and folding chairs were slotted all around. The fl?oor consisted of locally produced wood planks that were painstakingly scrubbed each morning consistent with General-453’s standing orders.
About half of the offi?cers who came to attention were Seebos, and the rest were free breeders, including Mortimer Kobbi. The clone’s face looked more bloated than usual, but that was of little interest to the legionnaire, who was hoping for some sort of breakthrough. Anything other than another suicidal attack against an entrenched enemy. And, much to Kobbi’s amazement, that was what he got! “At ease,” the imposter said, as he eyed those around him. “Please take your seats. Our present strategy isn’t working—so get ready to take notes. We’re going to try something new.”
Though not identical to the way the legionnaire would have planned it, the strategy that Four-fi?fty-three presented was similar, especially where the use of armor was concerned. “As you know,” Six said, “the battlefi?eld is strewn with wrecked hover tanks. That’s because the Ramanthians knew we would use them—and knew they wouldn’t work very well over deep trenches.”
Kobbi was amazed. As were the other Confederacy offi?cers seated around him. It was like listening to a different man!
Or himself for that matter—because everything Four-fi?ftythree was saying could be found in the memos he’d sent in. “But, thanks to our brave allies, we have an answer!” Six proclaimed. “Because the Legion’s quads can walk, rather than fl?oat across the battlefi?eld, engaging multiple targets as they do so, thereby clearing the way for the Trooper IIs and bio bods who will follow.”
Now it was the Seebos’ turn to look at each other in amazement. Because on all previous occasions, when no free breeders were present to hear, the supreme commander had consistently referred to the Legion’s cyborgs as “freaks, weirdos, and criminal scum.” Military curiosities at best who weren’t fi?t for serious combat. Which was why none of the cavalry units had seen any action yet—in spite of the fact that the Legion’s infantry had taken part in assault after assault. But such was their fear of the general, and his notoriously short temper, that none of the clone offi?cers wanted to challenge the apparent about-face. Especially with so many free breeders present.
So the battle plan was fi?nalized, and all of the regimental commanders were sent out to prepare their troops, which were slated to attack the Ramanthian positions just before dawn. Not with the goal of taking a few trenches, but in an effort to wipe the bugs off the battlefi?eld, and capturing the town beyond! Kobbi was whistling by the time he made his way down the slippery ramp and entered his command bunker. And that, as all of his subordinates knew, was a very good sign.
Rather than the chance to rest, which Santana and his company had been hoping for, they came down out of Tow-Tok Pass to discover that they would be at the forefront of an allout attack scheduled for 0500 the next morning. The cavalry offi?cer got the news in person, as people bustled about the 1st REC’s command bunker, clearly preparing for something.
“I’m sorry,” General Kobbi said, once Santana had delivered his report. “But we’ve got to put the Colonel Six matter aside for the moment. I know you and your people deserve a break, but I can’t give you one. Finally, after all this time, General453 has come to his senses! We’re going to launch a major attack in the morning—I’m going to need every cyborg we’ve got. So rearm your people and get them ready. God willing, we’ll take Yal-Am in time for lunch!”
Santana had known the diminutive general for quite a while by then and couldn’t recall seeing him quite so enthusiastic before. “That sounds good, sir,” Santana replied. “I’d better get back to my company.”
“One thing before you go,” Kobbi said thoughtfully. “I was going to assign this task to someone else, but you have more combat experience, and you know what that means.”
Santana made a face. “Is this some sort of shit detail, sir?”
“Yes, it is!” Kobbi replied cheerfully. “Much to everyone’s surprise General-453 wants to lead this assault from the front. But given the speed with which we’re going to advance, the only way he can possibly keep up is to ride a T-2. Which he’s never done before.”
Santana groaned. “So you want me to babysit him.”
“No,” Kobbi countered. “I want you and your company to guard him. But I won’t insist. Colonel Quinlan misses you terribly—and will be quite happy to bring Alpha Company back into the fold.”
There was a moment of silence as the men stared at each other. It was Santana who spoke fi?rst. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Granted.”
“You are one rotten bastard. Sir.”
Kobbi grinned from ear to ear. “That’s what they tell me. So, we have a deal?”
“Yes, sir,” Santana agreed grimly. “We have a deal.”
“Good. I’ll send word to the general. Which cyborg will you partner him with?”
“Private Shalo Shaley, sir. We lost her bio bod up in TowTok Pass.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kobbi replied soberly. “Well, tell the private she’s about to become a corporal if she can get Four-fi?fty-three into Yal-Am with his clone ass intact.”
Santana came to attention. The salute was smart and crisp.
“Sir, yes sir.”
