by Rick Shelley
"Just get back to us the best you can, Nimz," Parks said. "Avoid all contact with the enemy. That should be easy for a bunch of reccers."
"We'll try," Dem said. "Where do we head?"
"It's going to be a long chase for you." Parks laid out the current plans for the 13th. "Figure out what you can do and decide on your own rendezvous."
"Like to take us a few days, sir," Dem said after a quick look at his mapboard. "Sure wish there was one of those Heyers still around."
"We'd heard from you even six hours ago, we might have been able to fix that. But it's too late now."
Fredo had been listening in on the call, but he knew better than to say "I told you so" to Dem Nimz. "I think we'd best take the rest of the night to get some sleep," he said instead. "Start off fresh in the morning. We'll make better time that way."
—|—
Eleven hours in one location. That gave the men of the 13th plenty of time to catch up on at least some of the sleep they were behind, and it gave the research team from the lab inside Telchuk Mountain time to recover from their first day's hike, but it was a dangerous respite. In that much time, they were certain to have been spotted by the Schlinal spyeyes. A concentration of eighteen hundred men was almost impossible to hide if the enemy were looking hard enough.
"It's a chance we have to take," Colonel Stossen told his staff when they met two hours before dawn. "We're here until the APCs arrive and we can all ride."
"Those drivers are going to be too beat to do anything," Dezo pointed out. "Most of them have been on the go constantly for thirty-six hours or more. They can't keep going."
"Then we'll have to improvise," Stossen said. "There are more than enough others who know how to pilot a Heyer. The regular drivers will have to get their rest however they can, even if the medics have to sleep patch the lot of them."
"They will," Teu said. "If you expect anyone to get any real sleep in a Heyer on the move, it will take sleep patches."
Stossen nodded. "I wasn't making a joke. Pass the word to the companies. We'll get those drivers at least four hours of sleep whether they want it or not."
"We've had one break," Bal said. "Those drivers did their job. The Heggies never got a chance to see that the APCs were a diversion until it was too late."
"By now, they must have found out their mistake," Parks said, "but it doesn't matter any longer. We got in and out of that valley with the... cargo we were sent for."
"At a price," Stossen said. "Twenty percent of our air wing, nearly a quarter of our artillery, almost half our reccers. Plus the Heyers and drivers we lost. I don't even have any idea how many of them were tagged. And we're not out of this yet. We're not half into it if we're going to have any shot of getting back to friendly lines."
"There's one more decision we have to face before long," Teu said. "What do we do with the Wasps we still have? Do we keep them with us or send them back? We're going to have to choose before we get much farther from our people."
"What do you mean?" Kenneck asked.
"Right now, we can stick new batteries in the Wasps and they'll have the juice to get all the way back. Depending on what kind of speed we make heading east, they'll be out of range of our lines either late today or early tomorrow. If we keep them with us, they'll be stuck with us until we get close enough to our lines again for them to fly back. If we do."
"And if we turn them loose," Parks said, "once we get past that line we won't be able to get them back."
"How are we on support for them?" Stossen asked.
"Fine," Ingels said. "We brought along enough to keep half the wing flying, and we've never had two full flights out here. We have good stores of munitions, and there's no problem with batteries or anything else. We have enough ground crews to give each Wasp its own and still have a couple of spares."
"The problem with keeping the planes with us is that we have to be able to stop to put new batteries in them every seventy-five or eighty minutes," Kenneck said.
"Not really a problem, unless we're under attack at the time," Ingels replied. "And if we are under attack, we want the support over us. The problem is that if a Wasp is actually running dry and we can't provide cover for it to land. That's always a possibility, here or anywhere else."
"We'll keep them with us if we can," Stossen said. "At least, we'll plan on it. Five Wasps could make a big difference. Dezo, bring it up again when we get close to the limit for sending them back."
—|—
Olly Wytten stared at the meal pack in front of him. He ate slowly, chewing each mouthful as if the food were resisting being eaten. The rest of the squad was nearby, each man in his own foxhole, relatively close. The 13th was occupying a fairly small area. There was no need to stretch out the lines. Most of the men were eating. A couple of them were on their second breakfast. Food wasn't in short supply. Even the most conservative estimates indicated that they had a solid fifteen days of full rations left. Fifteen days. Few of the men in the 13th could think that far ahead on any campaign.
"Damn it! We're not doing any good out here."
Those who were close enough to hear Olly's vehement exclamation turned to look. It was the longest speech anyone in the squad had ever heard him make. And no one could recall ever hearing him sound so intense about anything. They waited to see if more would follow.
Wytten looked around, as if he had just realized that he had spoken aloud. But there was no embarrassment on his face. "We're wasted out here. Back in the lines, we'd at least be killing a few Heggies."
"We're not wasted," Mort said. Though the two were in different fire teams, their foxholes were next to each other.
"How do you see that?" Olly demanded.
"I can't give you hard proof, but we might be doing far more good sitting out here than if we were back there killing off Heggies by the regiment. Those people we picked up. Whatever they were doing is so important to the Accord that the general figured that it was worth the entire 13th to save them, or even just to keep the Heggies from getting them. Whatever they were doing in that mountain, it was big. It had to be."
"But what?" Olly asked.
Mort shrugged. "My fields are history and political science, not military technology. I can't even guess beyond suggesting that it might be a new weapons system, something so radically beyond anything either side has now as to spell victory or defeat for the side that manages to get it through development into production. And even that might be wrong. It could be communications, or even an improvement to jump space technology." He hesitated before he added, "Or something I haven't even got the background to imagine."
Olly looked down at his meal pack. "Maybe it's a food replicator light enough for a mudder to carry along. Drop in a shovel of dirt and get lunch."
Mort stared at Wytten, amazed that he had put so many words together. Then he shook his head. "That's as good a guess as anything I could come up with."
Joe Baerclau came over to first squad then. "You've got about forty-five minutes left. The Heyers will be here then, and we're gonna shove off as soon as they get here."
"Where to, Sarge?" Mort asked.
Joe shook his head. "Beats me. East, I think, and don't ask me what's there 'cause I don't know."
"Just another fancy run?" Ezra asked, getting out of his foxhole and walking over to meet Joe.
"Could be. Maybe the colonel's figured a way to get us back, or up to the ships. We go far enough off, the Heggies won't be able to get planes in to intercept the shuttles. But don't go banking on that," he added quickly. "That's just my own wild guess. Nobody's said anything about that." I shouldn't even have mentioned it, Joe thought, almost angry at himself. It was too good a way to start wild rumors. "Far as I know, we're just playing keepaway, getting those civilians as far from the Heggies as we can."
"And we can go farther and faster in the mixers," Mort said.
"So the Heyers aren't comfy," Joe said. "They do the job."
"What's east of here?" Al Bergon aske
d. "More mountains?"
Joe's smile was brief and restrained. He had taken a long look at his mapboard while Lieutenant Keye was briefing the platoon leaders and platoon sergeants. "Not so much. We head due east, there's foothills, then rolling countryside. Broad valleys framing rivers. Some rocky terrain for about three-hundred klicks, something like the rift valley on Porter but not so extreme. Good country to hide in."
"And no Heggies?" Pit Tymphe asked.
"Not as we know of. Not much of anybody."
"Why not?" Mort asked.
"Guess there's nothing there anybody wants. Nothing special in the way of farmland or minerals. Not enough people on Jordan to make it worthwhile." A lot of worlds were like that. Even though some of them, like Jordan, had been settled for a thousand years or more, their populations were still small enough that there was no mad scramble for every hectare of usable land. The population of Jordan had reached nearly three million before the Schlinal invasion. Even so, less than 20 percent of the "good" land was occupied, or used for anything more than casual hiking and camping. The ecological horror stories that had left Earth with the earliest colonists continued to haunt people wherever they went.
"Anyway, get anything done that needs doing and be ready to load up when the Heyers get here," Joe said. "Colonel's anxious to get moving. We've been in one place too long."
When the squad turned to gathering their gear, Joe beckoned Al away from the others.
"What is it?" Al asked when they were several meters away from the rest.
"Special instructions for the medics. The drivers of those Heyers have been on the go for close to two days without sleep. They get here and we load up, the first thing you do is hit the driver with a four-hour sleep patch. Get him settled in the back."
"We're gonna knock out all those drivers? That's... bizarre."
Joe nodded. Bizarre was a good word for what he thought might be the strangest order he had received in all his years as a soldier. "All of them. That comes direct from the colonel. Guess he figures it's the only way anyone can sleep in a Heyer."
"I can believe that," Al said.
"Just be ready, and get one of the others to help you move the driver. I've got to tell the other medics."
—|—
Kleffer Dacik stared at his haggard reflection in the mirror. His face was lathered up and he had a razor in his hand, but he wasn't moving, not his hand, not even his eyes. A chance thought had started him idly fantasizing on the pleasures of cutting his throat. He was not suicidal. The idea wasn't one that he could ever seriously entertain, but he was short enough of sleep that he didn't simply dismiss the errant thought and get on with the business of shaving.
Part of his mind was amused at the nonsense of standing as rigid as a statue and picturing himself lying on the bathroom floor with a new grin across his neck, while blood and shaving lather spread in a puddle around him. Foamy icebergs on a red sea. No more worries or trouble. Let somebody else drive himself mad with the situation.
His fantasy extended to imagining his aide coming in and finding him. "There he goes again, taking off without me," he imagined hearing Captain Lorenz say.
"General?" There was a banging at the bathroom door.
Dacik blinked several times, having difficulty bringing his mind out of the reverie. That was Captain Lorenz at the door.
"What is it, Hof?" he asked finally.
"News."
"Come in. Talk to me while I shave." Dacik hurriedly started shaving so that his aide wouldn't guess how long he had been standing there. The lather was already starting to dry on his face.
"The Heggies are up to something, General," Lorenz said as he entered. "You'll want to check out what we have on your mapboard, but I can give you the basics."
"Well, go ahead," Dacik said when the captain hesitated. Lorenz always looked, and often acted like a parade-ground soldier. Tall, slender, with a rigidly military carriage, Lorenz always looked as if he were waiting to pose for a recruiting holograph. Although he had seen duty with a line company through one campaign, most of his career had been spent in a series of staff assignments. It wasn't a matter of special privilege or connections. Lorenz simply had a talent for the work, a talent that more than one commander had decided it would be a shame to waste.
"They're pulling troops out of the lines. We can't get exact numbers, but intelligence estimates that they've pulled two mechanized infantry regiments and either two or three battalions of armor."
"Where are they headed?" Dacik asked, staring at Lorenz in the mirror.
The captain shook his head. "No word on that yet, but Colonel Lafferty's guess is that they're going after the 13th." Lafferty was Dacik's intelligence chief.
"What about that regiment that's been chasing them?"
"No change that we've seen. They're still in pursuit, but they're on foot now, what's left of them, and the 13th should be back in its APCs by now."
"Any sign that the Heggies are bringing in air transport for any of the units they've pulled?"
"Nothing was said about that, General. I'll call Colonel Lafferty and ask."
"Just get him to my office. I'll be there in two minutes. Get the rest of my staff as well. Maybe we can do something positive for a change."
Dacik had forgotten all about his earlier fantasy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Tell me what you know and how you know it," Dacik said as he entered his office still buttoning his shirt. Colonel Lafferty was standing by the large mapboard. The rest of the staff hadn't arrived yet.
Lafferty didn't waste time with pleasantries either. "Information's still coming in, sir. What we have so far is less than one-hundred percent solid, but promising." He waited until Dacik joined him in front of the mapboard.
"Two places, here, and here." He pointed. "On the left, we're relying on data from bugs we planted before we drew the perimeter back. On the right, we got a patrol out during the night without them being spotted. It looks as if the Heggies are pulling units out of the line, spreading the units on either side to cover the gaps. It's all been coordinated too precisely to give us much chance to poke through quickly during the changeover."
"What makes you think that they're going after the 13th?" Dacik asked. "I can think of at least two other solid reasons for pulling units back like that without stretching to conclude that they're going to run them twelve hundred klicks. They might simply be resting troops, or they might be massing a strike force to try and break through our lines somewhere."
"Either of those is possible," Lafferty conceded, "and we're watching as closely as we can. But I don't think that either is particularly likely right now."
"Why?"
"As far as resting troops, it's just not something a Schlinal warlord is likely to do until the men are so far gone that he doesn't have any choice, and even then, he's as apt to order them forward into an attack where they're at. The other... Well, I'm going a little farther out on the limb with that. It might even come down to a toss of the coin which is more likely, but I think my estimate is right. As soon as we know where the units are rendezvousing, if they do, I'll be able to say with more certainty, but it looks as if they're pulling back too far to be simply massing for a strike against us. And, if that was the case, I think they'd have done it several hours earlier, so they'd be in position before dawn, not still moving in daylight. Finally, the direction they're moving is consistent with preparations to move toward the 13th."
"Any sign that they're going to bring in air transport for them?"
Lafferty shook his head with considerable vigor. "Absolutely out of the question. They can't manage that any more than we could. We're still too near parity. They'd have to move out of range of our Wasps before they could try. In the time that would take, they could just as easily be going after them by land—be damn near where the 13th is now. They should have enough vehicles to move the mudders, and their tanks are mobile enough."
"How many men are they pulling?"
/> "I can't give you a good number on that, General, not now, maybe not ever. Infantry, I'd guess—and I do mean guess—close to four thousand, at a minimum. Maybe half again that number. That we've spotted so far. Plus two full battalions of armor, maybe a little more."
"Any unit identifications?"
"None that mean anything."
"Now the big question. Are they weakening their lines enough that we can exploit it?"
"The scattered reports I have so far suggest that the Schlinal troops still facing us have moved to a strictly defensive posture, digging in."
"That's not what I asked. Are we going to be able to use this to break the stalemate here?"
"I don't know, General. Not too soon, in any case. As long as those troops are close enough that they can be brought back in time to effect the outcome, no. Once they're nearly to the 13th, maybe. If we can find an edge, somehow. If we take too big a chance, it might give the Heggies what they need to end it."
"Let's get the rest of the staff in on this," Dacik said. "I need more information."
—|—
Dem Nimz and his remaining men had started hiking again just before sunrise. Dem pushed the pace as hard as he could. Within an hour, the legs of every man were aching from the strain, but they had covered nearly nine kilometers in that hour. After a ten-minute break, Dem stood. He didn't have to say anything. The others got up when he did. They moved on in two columns of five, keeping about five meters between the columns and three or four meters between men in each column.
They had only been on the move for ten minutes when the last man whistled over the radio, one sharp blast. It was the only signal reccers needed. They dove for cover, facing outward, guns at the ready, waiting for more information.
"Engines," the man said. By that time, the rest also could hear the sounds of truck engines, coming on strong.
"Can you see them?" Dem asked. He turned his head to look toward his left, back the way they had come.
There was a pause before the reply, "Yes. Parallel to our course, about forty meters out."