by Mike Moscoe
“Some. Was about to head them back for more smoke and HE.”
“Hang red crosses, stars, and crescents on 'em and send them out there.”
“You don't think they'll shoot 'em?”
“Won't know what kind of war these folks came to fight until we see, will we?”
“Right, sir, I'll ask for life-saver volunteers.”
“Get 'em out there, and get your gunners ready. I'm gonna start the show any time now.”
The ambulances were a mercy—and a mission. Buddies were caring for buddies. So long as first aid was the priority, combat was a distant second. But once their mates were turned over to the medics, the blood lust would come flooding back to the survivors. The major glanced around. His artillery was ready. D and E companies were ready to roll. Get the wounded off the field, and it would be time. Longknife gave himself ten minutes.
* * * *
Mary risked two vids. The scene they showed was horrible.
Two hundred people Had been huddled under the rim when the missiles came. There were still two hundred battle suits out there, but a lot of them weren't people anymore.
She'd never considered unspent rocket fuel a weapon. Burning figures withered on the ground, trying to put out fire that carried its own oxidizer. The lucky ones sluffed the fuel off as they rolled in the dust. No, the lucky were the ones just lying there, dead and burning.
“God, what have I done?”
A red light flashed, drawing her attention to the top of the picture. Wheeled vehicles were making their way down the escarpment. They were going slower than she'd expect for an attack rush, but Mary no longer trusted anything in battle to be reasonable. “Lieutenant, we got wheels headed our way.”
“Show me.”
Happy to get away from the close-in picture, Mary zoomed in on a pair of the approaching rigs.
“No shooting this time, Mary. Those carriers have red crosses on 'em. They're ambulances, come for the wounded. We don't shoot at red crosses.”
No way would Mary shoot at something come to take those wretched pictures out of her vision. She shuddered; it would take more than ambulances to get them out of her memory. She'd burned and slashed and killed them. And they'd do the same to her if they got a chance. “Lieutenant, mind taking over the big picture for a while? I got housekeeping chores to do.”
“Dig deep, Mary. We've got a truce while the ambulances are on the field. I'll mind the store.”
Mary started looking for places to hide.
“They're leaving the ambulances alone,” sensors whispered as if even a strong word might disturb the delicate peace.
“Might as well. They know we know how to cover vehicles now,” artillery butted in.
“Let's credit virtue where it's due,” Ray muttered. “Artillery, your crew ready?”
“Just say the word.”
“Enough of the right stuff?”
“I'd like more WP, but you know where my ammo carriers are.”
“Yeah.”
“Sir,” whispered sensors, “shouldn't we go now? The more time we give them, the better dug in they'll be.”
“Yes, son, but B and C companies are out of it. Their officers and noncoms need time to put them back into fighting order. D and E are our reserves, but only E's got armored carriers. I don't want to send them forward until B and C are in solid contact. And I got a flag of truce on the field. They're honoring it, and I don't intend to make this war any viler than it has to be. We will honor our own flag of truce.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But that doesn't mean we don't think for the next ten minutes. We've tapped them. They've tapped us. To hell with love taps. I want a knockout next. So far, I don't even know what I'm up against.”
“Sir, I think I've got something,” said sensors slowly.
“I'm listening.”
“I told you the background electromagnetic noise from the rim didn't match any stuff in the Earthies' inventory.”
“Right.”
“I think I got a picture of what these folks are using.” Ray's heads-up changed to an up-close picture of the rim. Shells had gouged it; something dangled from the rock.
“What's that?” artillery asked.
“It's not military issue,” sensors answered. “It took a major search of the database to find. It's the latest commercial infrared sensor. They use it in mines. It cost a fortune.”
“We're facing mining equipment?” Artillery wasn't persuaded.
“It looks like that to me.” Sensors stood his ground.
“That might explain a lot,” Longknife said slowly. “They've dug in faster than I expected. They've got a few savvy types and a lot of dumb ones. And all of them are green. Okay, crew. What do we do with that assumption? We got ten minutes before I want to kick this off. Talk to me.”
Ten minutes can go quickly when experts at organized mayhem put their minds to it.
* * * *
The seconds ticked by, each one an hour long and not nearly long enough. Mary had nothing to do while the moles did their thing. Into that time-twisted void crept visions of the hell Mary had created. She didn't turn on the vid. She didn't have to. All her life, Mary had been ... well, if not a good girl, at least a woman who kept out of trouble. Go to work. Give the man his time. Don't talk back. And cover your mouth when you laugh at the boss man or brown-noser as they get theirs.
Mary got what she deserved. A few beers with friends. A few parties. Here and there a night worth remembering. That was life, thank you very much. Now she had killed. Good God, how she had killed. Now she could pray. Pray that there was no God to see what she'd done. Outside were people, buddies of the ones she'd killed. All she had to do was open the door. They'd find her. One shot from a needle rifle and she wouldn't have to worry about forgetting the pictures. One shot, hell. They'd probably empty their magazines into her. She wouldn't feel a thing.
Mary fingered the door. The jacks would swivel it. They'd do the rest. Through her trembling fingertips, Mary felt movement on the other side. They were coming for her.
* * * *
“Sergeant, take a look at this.” “Private, get a move on. We're wanted at the pass.” “Nothin's gonna happen 'til the ambulances are out of here. Take a look, Sergeant. There's a hole in the rock.”
“There's holes all over this damn rock.”
“Yeah, but not in a straight line.”
“Straight line?” The sergeant had gone outside the rock outcropping. The private had taken the inside. Two other privates had joined him by the time the sergeant got back.
“Shit, look.” The second private fingered the gap in the rocky wall. “It's straight, and as wide as my little finger.”
“You mean prick,” put in the third private.
“You're just jealous, honey. I got one and you don't.” He leaned against the rock. “Doesn't move.”
“Honey, you never could make the earth move. Now me, baby cakes, I can make it shake, rattle, and roll.” She patted her hips, or more precisely, the satchel of explosives hanging there. “Move out of my way, boy, and I'll show you how a woman does it.”
“Hold your horses, Roz,” the sergeant put in as he joined them. “We got ambulances on the field. Nobody blows nothing while we're under the red crescent.”
“Course, Roz, if you got your heart set on blowing something, I'm available.”
“Go blow yourself, before I use some C-20 to do it for you. Sergeant, somebody's had us under observation since we started. That somebody's caused us a lot of grief. If that somebody's behind this rock, I want his ass.”
“Okay, Roz, I'll call it up, but close that satchel. Nobody does nothin' til I get the word. Understood?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” three privates echoed like four-year-olds.
* * * *
Mary waited for the door to blow in, crush her under its stony weight. “Mary,” Cassie's voice whispered in her helmet, “you've been off net for a long time. You okay?”
“
Yes,” Mary sniffled. “No problem here.”
“Doesn't sound like no problem to me.”
“Okay, you want a problem. How do you blow your nose in one of these damn ape suits?”
“You got me. Don't think they made them with crying in mind. Want me to ask the lieutenant?”
“For God's sake, no!”
“Want to talk about it, Mary?”
She sniffed hard, trying to get control of all the drips. Then she sneezed, splattering phlegm all over the inside of her faceplate. Most of it ran down in thin streaks. The faceplate was supposed to be streak-free. It almost was. The suit already stank of fear and sweat.
“I just killed a lot of people,” Mary finally said.
“So? That's what they sent us here to do.”
“No, I just killed a lot of people. I saw them. Lying out there burning.”
“I know,” Cassie whispered. “I saw the vid, too.”
“But I'm the one that killed them.”
“Yeah, I know. You laid out the sensors all by yourself. Emplaced the rockets, programmed them. Did it all yourself. Good going, girl.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No you're not, Mary. If we hadn't blasted those two rigs, if we hadn't stomped them at the rim, they'd have rolled right over us a half hour ago. How many of us would be dead? Me, Lek, Nan, Dumont , definitely the lieutenant. How many, Mary?”
“I don't know.”
“Neither do I. But you saved our asses, Mary, and we're kind of glad for it. Now, you go take care of yourself, girl.”
“Thanks, Cassie. It's good to know someone cares. I owe you a beer.”
“Then you definitely take care of yourself. I need all the free beer I can get at my age.”
“Cassie, I got a few things to do. Call you back in a couple of minutes.”
“If you don't, I'll call you. We need you, girl. Dig in good. If anybody knows how, you do.”
“Thanks. Mary out.” Mary glanced around her cell. Not much bigger than her apartment in the belt. Over there was room for the bed. The cook space was opposite it. The couch would go against the door leaving a whole wall for the vid center. Where do I hide, under the bed or in the closet?
The moles must have finished. The jacks skittered away from the original door and headed for a corner. Mary got down on her hands and knees. Yeah, under the bed sounded good.
She grabbed her gun and started crawling.
Three
“B Company, report,” Major Longknife ordered.
“Locked and loaded. We want their skulls for hood ornaments.”
The major would have expected nothing less. “C company, report.”
“In position. There better be enough skulls for us, too. Damned if I'll settle for their guts as antenna streamers again.”
“There'll be enough. Where're the ambulances?”
“Last one just cleared the escarpment... now.”
“Artillery, they're yours. D and E companies, forward at a gallop. B and C, as soon as the smoke thickens, advance and take the pass.”
“Roger,” “Yes, sir,” and “On our way” answered him.
“Lieutenant Cohen.” The major called the new commander of B company. “Your folks pretty sure they've found the skunk that's been calling down all those rockets?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you don't have to wait for smoke to go after that one. That's a skull I want, personally.”
“It's yours, sir.” The young voice held no doubt.
* * * *
Mary felt the pressure of the explosion even through vacuum. She checked her heads-up display one last time before she doused it, and the hint of light it brought to the cavern. It was all red, hot, and ready. Damn. The mines! She'd safetied them for the LT's walk. With a flick of her wrist, she reactivated them. Then she doused the heads-up.
Mary eyed her old space through the slit she'd left open to her new quarters. The stone slab lay half in, half out of the doorway. Three grenades sailed through the hole. Mary ducked. Through the stone, she felt the explosions and shrapnel bouncing off walls. Something slammed into her helmet. Carefully, she fingered a bit of jagged metal sticking in the plastic of her faceplate. Bent and twisted, it had ricocheted off the walls before coming to rest, spent, on her helmet. With a glob of safety goo in one hand, she gently pulled the metal out. It had barely dinged the plastic. Mary, never one to take a chance, slapped goo sealant liberally on the ding and risked a look into her old space.
Four infantry, rifles at the ready, entered one after another. Rifles and helmets moving as one, they swept down the entire cavern. Not one square millimeter went unexamined. So that's how professionals do it. Three stayed on point and alert. One relaxed his aim, probably a sergeant getting ready to report. Mary didn't want that. She flipped on the laser designator high on the far wall. In its ruddy light, the dust and gases of the explosion still swirled. Like puppets, every gun and eye swiveled to face it.
Mary slipped her needle rifle into the notch left for it below the slit. Her heads-up display back on, it showed the next room. The sights settled on the closest back. Mary squeezed the trigger, gently, like she'd been taught.
The gas vented out the sides of her rifle; she felt no recoil. A three-round burst went into one back. Mary walked her aim to the next closest back. Three more for it, then the next.
That one wasn't a back. She caught him—no, maybe it was a her—turning. Mary stitched three rounds into her side and changed aim for the last one. He was diving for the cover of the stone. Mary had to get him; she couldn't hold off a siege. His helmet was in her sights. She jerked off three rounds. Only the first one hit. It was enough.
The faceplate shattered.
Mary lay, rifle in hand, fascinated as the blood flew in lazy arcs, obedient to the gentle gravity of this moon. She might have lain there, mesmerized by the deaths she'd caused, but explosions were seeping into her body.
Her mines were going off.
She ordered a vid to keep an eye on her old space and put it on motion detection. Switching her heads-up to the outside picture, she nodded. Yep, the minefield was taking a toll. There was still too much of the WP stuff to use a laser. It took her a minute to regain the situation. Somewhere in that minute she was violently ill, but she kept most of the vomit off her faceplate. Her friends needed her.
* * * *
Lieutenant Cohen waited for the cloud of Willy Peter to thicken. After each burst of shell, he'd start counting. When he got to fifteen without starting over, the swirl of white obscured the end of the pass—and he could believe the artillery net's claim that the barrage was over.
“Follow me, crew,” he shouted, and the men and women of B company lit out after him. He was near the crest of the ridge when something exploded at his feet. Arms and legs flailing, he flew up, then smashed into the pass's stone wall five meters above the ground. Of his feet, he felt nothing. His ears rang, but not enough to miss the hissing of pressure fleeing his suit. With his last air, he shouted. “Come on, soldiers, a few mines can't slow the Guard down. Show the others how it's done. Forward.”
Troops double-timed toward him, some shooting up as explosions blossomed at their feet, others making it through, rifles up, shooting at what lay ahead. Then darkness took vision from the lieutenant's eyes as his whole body struggled for breath. It was not a long struggle.
* * * *
Each shell bounced Cassie around the inside of her dugout. As best she could, she left space for Joyce to do her own rattling around. Then the lieutenant bellowed on the platoon-wide net. “Infantry in the gap. Heads up. Rifles out. Shoot.”
She and Joyce stared at each other. Did that idiot really want them to crawl out of their hole under this artillery barrage? Then again, the place wasn't shaking anymore. Just her knees. Through the faceplate, Cassie could see Joyce's face. Sweat ran down it, vomit speckled the helmet. She was in no shape to stand up, much less shoot. Wonder what I look like?
I sure as hell
don't feel like standing up and aiming a gun. Cassie was shaking like an unbalanced motor. “I'll fire a round if you will,” Cassie said.
“Just one?”
“That's all I got in me.”
They came up out of their hole together, slapped their rifles down on the rocky lip, and fired. Cassie didn't try for a sight picture. She just pulled the trigger and held it down, slowly sweeping the barrel over the gap three hundred meters away. Figures in armored space suits poured through the pass. Some flew .. . mines, she remembered. Good luck, Mary.
Her rifle quit spitting. For Mary, she popped the spent magazine out and slammed in a new one. Cassie glanced at Joyce. She slumped over her rifle, surprise still showing in her empty eyes. Her faceplate had taken a direct hit. She hadn't suffered. A needle's tiny hole showed between her eyes.
Cassie turned back to the gap, finger on the trigger, gun venting. She wondered why her throat hurt. It wasn't until she slipped the fourth magazine in that she realized she was screaming. She didn't try to stop.
* * * *
Captain Tran did a belly flop in the dust at the end of the pass. He'd made it! From the looks of things, he might be the only officer who had. Company B was taking a pasting. They'd always been a hard luck unit. Tough luck. The rifle fire on his side of the gap was lighter. “First and second platoon, keep going. Third and fourth, give them fire support.
When they've got the rill, third and fourth will leapfrog over them.”
Shouts answered him. A dozen men took off hopping. Was that all that was left of the forty who jumped off with me at the escarpment?
Eight made it to the rill. They ducked down and started looking for hidey-holes. “It's like shooting fish in a bowl” came over the net. Tran would give them a minute, then order third and fourth up and forward.
* * * *
Dumont held Tina. “I can't go out there,” she whimpered.
“Don't worry, hon, we ain't going nowhere. No LT's gonna make us.”
“They shot her,” screamed a voice on the squad net. “They shot her right in our...”
“That was ...” Tina started.
“Yeah,” Dumont cut her off. He had the hole right down from them. Dumont raised his helmet just enough to see. Someone in space armor with the red unity lightning patch was emptying his rifle into that hole. Unthinking, Dumont pulled his gun out, sighted quickly, and blew the gunner away. Someone on the lip of the rill turned toward him. Dumont walked his fire up to blow him off his feet.