Until Relieved

by Rick Shelley

  After the strike force made camp during the night, Joe had stayed up for the first two hours, sharing that watch while the ache in his back increased. Then he had settled down to get some sleep. He had managed nearly four hours before the ache finally woke him. He was free to go back to sleep now, if he wanted, if he could. It was nearly noon, and the strike force was planning to stay put until dark, unless the colonel decided to send the shuttles for them, to take them back to the plateau.

  Until the shuttles come. As far as Joe had heard, there was no decision on that yet. The Heggies were attacking, off and on, up on the plateau. The raids seemed to be nothing serious, just enough to keep the men there busy, and to make the air space over the 13th too dangerous for shuttles. Boem fighters, Nova tanks, infantry raids against one section of the perimeter or another, in and out, back and forth, jumping around so that the 13th never knew where the next strike would come from. Facing tactics of that sort was particularly unnerving. It was worse than facing constant pressure in one place. All the spyeyes the 13th had strung around Porter didn't seem to do much good. The 13th got warning when the Boems or Novas came on, but rarely more than a couple of minutes. And infantry movements were rarely noted in time to give a warning before the shooting started.

  They could lift us back to the ships, Joe thought, knowing that the colonel would attempt that only in the most dire of emergencies, unless their relief force showed up. But that news would certainly have been released as soon as the colonel knew about it. Joe was almost certain of that. That kind of news would be too good for morale for the colonel to keep it secret.

  Wouldn't it?

  Joe was bone-tired, but he had chosen not to try to sleep. Instead, he had taken time to talk with each of the fire teams in the platoon, sometimes to individual soldiers. Though he had known everyone in the platoon, in the company, before Porter, he had only been a squad leader then. Now he was platoon sergeant, even if only temporarily, and responsible for more men. He had done all of the normal things in the last few hours, said whatever he thought might boost the men's spirits, even a little, while he warned them to be particularly sparing of ammunition and food, and to drink plenty of water while they had such a good source at hand.

  "Don't get dehydrated," he had warned them. That was too easy to do. Even when it caused no trouble in the field, it could complicate the procedure of getting back "to human" when they finally left Porter. Even if a soldier did not suffer injury or illness on a campaign, he would still need a certain amount of convalescence time afterward. That was something that was too rarely understood by the men—and even by some of the officers who ought to know.

  Joe had returned twice to Goff during the last three hours. He spent more time with Kam each time than he did with anyone else. Kam seemed different. Joe wasn't sure that he could define the difference exactly, and he didn't know what to make of the new Kam Goff. Being our medic has brought the best out in him, was as close as he could come, and he felt uneasy about that assessment. He toyed with the idea of suggesting that Goff transfer to the medical corps. Perhaps he would be unable to handle permanent assignment as a combat medic. Medics were, after all, simply riflemen who accepted the additional duties. But as an orderly in a hospital ward, he might do well. Maybe he could even take training as a medtech like Doc Eddies. That way, Goff could, perhaps, keep a decent opinion of himself after Porter.

  After Porter. Joe shook his head. It was becoming increasingly difficult to think of any future after Porter. They had already been on-planet twice as long as they had anticipated, with no word yet about when they might finally get off. After Porter was a dream, maybe even a hallucination.

  "Baerclau."

  "Yes, sir," Joe replied automatically at the sound of Lieutenant Keye's voice.

  "As it stands now, we're here until sunset. The colonel's ordering down shuttles to take us back to the plateau then."

  Joe nodded to himself. "Guess that's the best time, sir. Like when we left." Dawn or sunset, times when the sun was low in the sky.

  "Get the men up," Keye said. "We've got a little perimeter duty ahead of us. Up top. We're to go out three klicks to the northeast and set up a line of bugs. We do have bugs left, don't we?"

  "Yes, sir. That's one thing we're not short of." Joe suppressed a sigh. "I guess it is our turn for a little work, Lieutenant."

  Keye chuckled. "You could say that. Get 'em mounted up. Fifteen minutes."

  Joe relayed the orders to the squad leaders. He had to remind himself to let Ezra handle first squad. If Joe kept butting in there, Ezra would have that much more difficulty getting the men to think of him as their squad leader.

  Fifteen minutes passed quickly. Those men who had been sleeping were wakened. Nearly everyone took the opportunity to take long drinks of the cool water from the stream and to refill their canteens. Some of the men ate part of a meal pack. For three days, they had been making one pack last for two meals. A few had started stretching their rations even more on their own initiative; those were mostly veterans. It made for hungry moments, but postponed the time when they might run out completely.

  Echo Company's 2nd platoon was not the only one setting out on the same sort of mission. Altogether, five platoons were positioning sensing devices. If there was any Schlinal activity around, the sooner the strike force knew about it, the better. If necessary, the shuttles could be warned off, told to stay out of the atmosphere and wait for the danger to pass. Or the LZ could be adjusted to set the shuttles down farther away from the Heggies.

  Northeast, Joe thought as the platoon started to climb out of the canyon. At least that's in the direction of the rest of the regiment. It might take four hard days to walk back to the plateau, but if worse came to worst, they could do it.

  First squad led the way, more by default than from any conscious decision. Mort Jaiffer had the point, followed by Goff and Ezra Frain. Joe followed first squad, and Keye followed second squad. The "path" up the canyon wall was merely a series of ledges, each higher than the last, narrow, but not so narrow that there was any real danger of anyone falling off. Moving from one ledge to the next could be a little touchy. Three of them required each man to set his rifle on the rock above and hoist himself up with both hands. With a little help from the man before, and a boost from the next man in line, it went a little faster.

  There was no real concern about an ambush at the top of the canyon. The recon platoons had a perimeter staked out to prevent that. A canyon might be a dandy place to hide from prying eyes, but it could be a death trap if proper care was not exercised. Captain Teu Ingels was not the kind of commander who missed elementary precautions.

  Three klicks out, three klicks back, Joe thought as he reached the top of the canyon wall. His mind gauged that distance in aching muscles and sore feet. He turned slowly, eyes slightly squinted, trying to see everything within line of sight, on the ground and in the air. He was pleased at what he saw—or, more accurately, did not see. There were no planes in sight. While Wasps might have been morale boosters, it was even more heartening that there were no Schlinal Boems around. Nor were there any Nova tanks or enemy infantry visible. There was no gunfire coming in or going out. The platoon almost might have been alone on the world.

  "Last time I tried to plant a row of bugs, you know what happened," Joe said when Lieutenant Keye stopped next to him.

  "Don't go borrowing trouble, Joe."

  "All those rocks and crevices, a couple of regiments could be hidden," Joe said. "Fifty tanks, four or five thousand men."

  "If there were anywhere near that many Heggies around, you think we'd have lasted this long?"

  Joe hesitated before he said, "Naw, I guess not. Still, you got to worry 'bout what might happen, or you forget to do the things that could save your butt."

  "If there were any real numbers out here, we'd know about them, Joe. Between the spyeyes and the reccers, we'd know."

  Joe laughed, but without humor. "I know that, sir, but if I don't have someth
ing to worry about, then I have to worry about nothing. I don't feel right 'less I'm worrying about something or other."

  "You're starting to sound like Max."

  Joe faced the lieutenant squarely, but did not speak.

  "Sorry, Joe," Keye said after a moment. "I know how close the two of you were."

  Joe shook his head. "I just can't get used to him being gone sir, not yet. I just wall that off, I guess."

  "Let's get moving."

  The platoon moved by squads, in four separate columns. As close as the terrain permitted, the columns stayed twenty-five to thirty meters apart. Within the columns, the men kept their spacing as well. They were too tired to bunch up. It was in forest that intervals were most difficult to maintain, and there was not a single tree to be seen, not even any of the scrub trees that had been most common in this area of Porter. The only significant greenery of any kind was a prickly grass whose fifty-centimeter blades had serrated edges. That grass seemed nearly sharp enough to cut leather. At least the grass grew only in sparse patches. It could almost always be avoided.

  The hike out was uneventful. Lieutenant Keye kept the pace easy. After eleven and a half days on Porter, no one was capable of much speed in any case, especially not Keye. He told himself that he was finally beginning to feel his age, and he couldn't get far from that thought afterward. It was a thin excuse.

  The men moved with instructions to watch the ground carefully for any sign that there had been soldiers across it recently, but no one saw anything that indicated that humans had ever trod any of this ground. On a world like Porter, that was eminently possible—even within sixty or seventy kilometers of the capital.

  Once they reached their destination, the squads fanned out and planted thirty of the electronic devices, twenty-five meters apart in a shallow arc, deviating only for the needs of the terrain. Joe personally directed the placement of most of the snooper bugs. After they were all in place, Joe and the lieutenant went out beyond them, to make sure that the devices would not be spotted too quickly by a Schlinal force moving toward the strike force's positions. Then, after the platoon was far enough behind the line of bugs that they wouldn't set off alarms themselves, Joe activated them remotely.

  "Okay," Keye said. "Let's get back. We don't want to be late for our ride."

  The platoon had not made a hundred meters back toward the canyon when rifle fire started, coming from the east, on their left.

  The fire was far from heavy. Even as he dove for the ground, Joe guessed that no more than a half-dozen rifles were active. But two men from fourth squad, the squad that had the left flank, went down heavily from the first bursts of wire. Their squad leader crawled toward them while a dozen others from the platoon returned the fire. It only took a moment for the squad leader to learn that one of his two men was dead, the other only injured.

  "Slack off on the wire," Keye ordered the platoon. "Third squad, go around the left. Second, take the right. First and fourth, hold your fire unless you have a clear target."

  Joe got behind a rock that was just high enough to give him a good kneeling position so he could fire over the shoulder of the stone, using it as a stationary rest for his rifle. He glanced around, trying to fix everyone's position in his mind. He could tell, vaguely, the area where the ambush was located. The Heggies had picked their position well. They had cover on at least three sides. Joe couldn't tell what was behind them. He guessed that they had decent cover from that angle as well.

  "I think it's just a squad, Lieutenant," Joe said. "Not enough guns for anything larger."

  "I hope that's all it is," Keye replied. "And not just the advance squad for a larger unit."

  "You know, all the bugs in the galaxy won't do much good if there's an enemy force already inside the electronic perimeter," Joe said. "Any chance of getting an air search to make sure the circle's not contaminated?"

  "I doubt it, but I'll make the suggestion," Keye said. "See if you can spot any of the Heggies out there while I talk to the captain."

  Joe took out his power binoculars and started to scan the rocky area that seemed to be where the wire was coming from. At the range he was searching, the glasses had the theoretical capability to detect something as small as a one-half-by-four-centimeter blade of grass moving in the breeze. The computer module of the binoculars was equipped to do the kind of scan that Joe needed. It would flag anything that looked like battle dress or a gun, as well as movement too minor for a human to notice without help. It could even identify a burst of wire in the air under near-perfect conditions.

  "Spot them?" Keye asked.

  "Yes, sir. There are only four of them firing now, 130 meters out, about 12 degrees right. Second squad is within 50 meters of them, and it doesn't look as if they've been spotted by the Heggies."

  "Warn them that they're getting close," Keye said.

  Joe did that, then asked, "What about the air search?"

  "Not until the shuttles come in. They'll be doing a close scan as they approach. If they see too much..."

  "We walk back," Joe said, finishing the statement.

  We don't have enough rations to make it on foot, Keye thought, but it wasn't something he felt compelled to talk about. Joe could see that for himself. They weren't finding enough game to make the difference. Four-hundred-plus men needed a lot of feeding, and the very presence of so many intruders drove the game farther off.

  Joe leaned forward, resting the binoculars on the rock in front of him. He forgot his conversation with the lieutenant and started directing second squad's movements. He had a better view of what they were getting into than they did. At the same time, he moved third squad closer from the other side, watching the angles so that the two squads would not be shooting at each other by mistake. The exercise fully occupied his mind.

  "The Heggies are trying to withdraw," Joe said after a couple of minutes. "Second squad, turn 45 degrees right, third, 45 left." He told each squad how far they were from the enemy and where the other squad was. "Careful with your fire."

  A dozen meters from Joe, Lieutenant Keye was also watching the maneuvering through power binoculars, but he left the directing to Joe. Having two spotters try to control the troops could only lead to confusion.

  Second squad was closest, by twenty meters. They were the first to take the Heggie patrol under fire. When the Heggies moved, trying to get away from second squad, they walked right into the path of third squad. The fight lasted less than two minutes from the time second squad opened fire. The two squad leaders reported only a minute after that. They had seven bodies, all Schlinal—seven rifles, thirteen spools of wire, and three Schlinal RPG launchers, with a dozen rounds for them.

  "Bring the munitions along," Keye ordered.

  "That gives us a little more firepower," Joe commented. "I still wonder if we shouldn't be looking for good-sized rocks for throwing. It may come to that."

  "Let's hope not," Keye said. "Have everyone take a good look around. I'd hate to find that more Heggies snuck up on us while we were preoccupied with one squad."

  "Yes, sir." I should have thought of that, Joe thought, angry at himself for the oversight. It was too easy a mistake, one that could have proved deadly.

  —|—

  "I want every Wasp we've got left in the air to cover the shuttles," Stossen told Parks. "If it's still possible, I want them all to have a full load of munitions as well."

  "We can manage that," Dezo said. "We're down to eight airworthy Wasps. The last report I had, we had munitions to fill their cannon magazines twice and maybe two full loads of rockets each. We've even got a couple of bombs left."

  "All these petty raids. I don't think that the Schlinal commander is just out to annoy us. It must be leading up to something."

  "They obviously know we're short on ammunition," Parks said, not for the first time. Even before the report from Captain Ingels, that had seemed clear. "They're probably trying to deplete our stocks as far as possible before they move in full scale again."<
br />
  "Much longer, and it won't take much of a 'full scale,'" Stossen said. "If we've got any mines that haven't been planted yet, get them out before sunset. I can't help thinking that tonight is the night. The Schlinal commander waits much longer and he'll have trouble explaining why."

  "Every mine we've got is out and armed," Parks said. "We laid the last of them last night. About half are set on automatic. The rest are controlled from the perimeter."

  "Is there anything I've forgotten?" Stossen asked. "Anything at all we can still do to help ourselves?"

  Parks shook his head. "If there is, I can't think of it. Unless, of course, we were to try to withdraw to the ships, and I don't suppose our orders permit that."

  "They don't." Just as well, Stossen thought, it would be too tempting. A withdrawal without cover would be difficult at best, perhaps deadly, but even under a worst-case scenario, he might be able to save half of his command. If they were overrun by the Schlinal army, there was little chance that any of them would make it off-world again, at least not as long as the war lasted, and with hundreds of worlds involved in the fighting, one way or another, the war could easily continue for generations.

  "How about a partial withdrawal?" Parks suggested. "We're bringing five shuttles down to pick up the strike force. We could just as easily send those men up to the ships instead of bringing them here. Consolidate ammunition and have one shuttle drop that here. Keep us fighting a little longer, perhaps."

  That's certainly not covered in our orders, Stossen thought. He took a moment to mull over the idea. Two companies, two recon platoons—or what was left of them. It would at least leave a cadre to rebuild the 13th from.