She had them count off by twos to form fire teams. “You ones are Fire Team A. Twos are Fire Team B. Remember that, and move when I order you to.” She gave her nervous hero-to-be a reassuring pat as she went down the line and took her place at its front before ordering them to follow her. With luck, she wasn’t leaving Tom to face all the bad guys. But then, that was what Custer thought when he left Reno attacking the front and went off searching for a flank and found only oblivion.
Kris shook away that thought; she had the Sky Eye. It showed her where every one of the bad guys and not-so-bad guys was. She didn’t have to worry about blundering into them before she wanted to. Technology was good.
The reader with the Sky Eye feed went blank as Kris passed the twentieth row of trees and was preparing to turn into the orchard. She made the turn, with thirteen troopers following right behind her, as she called headquarters.
“I know, I know, we lost the picture, too,” the Colonel answered. “It’s ancient software, and we’re having to emulate the hardware here to even get it talking this much to our net. We’re rebooting everything. Give us five minutes. By the way, I like your deployment. Flank them, get them running, good psychology.”
“I’m kind of counting on the Spy Eye to let me know about any surprises.”
“You’ll know when it’s back as soon as I do.”
“Thanks, sir. Things are getting kind of busy here. Call me when the Sky Eye’s back.”
“Good luck, Ensign.”
With her airborne intelligence gone, Kris reverted to the old-fashioned approach. Two of her marines looked like they might have had some outdoors experience; she designated them her scouts and sent them ahead of her. She let them get five trees up, and one over before she moved her tiny main force forward again. They were supposed to be fifteen trees behind the ambush. Still, all it took was someone looking for a private place to take a crap, and Kris’s surprise was blown.
The rain fell in sheets. The trees shivered in the gusty wind. The orchard stank of mud and swamp. Kris could hardly see her scouts; a herd of elephants could have stampeded by just out of sight, and she would never have heard them. Deaf and blind, Kris’s troops plodded along behind her. There was no time to waste. Sooner or later, the bad guys would start wondering what was holding up the trucks.
“Spy Eye’s back,” was all the Colonel said.
“Thanks,” was Kris’s own short response. She shaded the reader against the rain and didn’t much like what it told her. She’d gone too far into the orchard. She was about halfway down the ambush. If she hit them from where she was, there was a good chance some of the bandits would flee right into Tom’s troops. That, of course, assumed whoever was leading the opposition didn’t get his hundred moving at her. If he did, Kris was open to envelopment on either flank. Should she fall back a bit?
“Scout One here.”
“Yes,” Kris whispered. Scout one was ahead of her, and closest to the ambush.
“I got two very chummy bad guys headed my way. Make that bad guy and bad girl.”
“Get down,” Kris said, probably unnecessarily.
“That’s what he just did to her.”
Kris signaled everyone down, then went to ground herself behind a too damn thin tree trunk. She checked her Spy Eye, found her scout, found two more rapidly beating hearts, and took a sight in that direction. Movement drew her eye.
Yep, there was the couple. That was the problem with an orchard. Little underbrush. At this level, all that impeded the eye was a few tree trunks. And rain. Lots of rain.
Kris hunched down where she was, trying to make herself invisible. Behind her, the column did the same, as much as city-raised kids could. Kris concentrated on the pair ahead of her. She’d read in some women’s magazine the percent of men that kept their eyes open versus the ones that shut them at moments like these. She forgot which type was supposed to be the better lover. She just hoped this guy was one of the eyes-shut types.
Then the wind died down, and someone behind Kris sneezed.
With the rain and wet, colds were epidemic on Olympia. And about the time they got the right vaccination for one flavor of virus, Olympia sprouted another. The corpsmen were going crazy generating new vaccines. Everyone had to put up with a cold for a couple of days each month. Kris hoped that bad boy up ahead figured it was one of his own.
Bad boy did lose interest, but his first glance was back at the ambush. The girl said something. He shushed her. Still mounted, he picked up his gun, and this time his scan was in Kris’s direction. Kris thumbed the safety off her rifle but didn’t dare move it. She waited.
The man shouted something, rolled off the girl, and fired two rounds in a direction Kris had no troops. “Keep it cool, crew,” Kris whispered on net. “He’s firing at ghosts. Let’s not give him something real to shoot at.”
The girl didn’t get up, seemed to be encouraging him to finish what he started. But the man was on his feet now, pants down around his boots, gun out. He advanced a few short paces toward Kris, eyes roving the woods. When his head quit moving, his eyes were locked on her. His rifle was half up; now he brought it to his shoulder, aiming at Kris.
For a second, they stared at each other as Kris brought her rifle up. She knew he’d beat her, but she had to try.
Then his head vanished as a scout took him down in a blaze of darts.
That brought the girl up on her knees, one hand grabbing for her pants, the other stuffed in her mouth to stifle a scream. She whirled in place and started half running, half crawling back to the ambush.
Kris flipped her rifle to sleepy darts and sent a shower at the girl. Wind blew them all to hell, but three of them ended up sticking out of the girl’s bare rump. She collapsed into the mud and slid into a tree.
“Flank group, advance with me, in waves. Fire Team B, prepare to provide cover fire from this tree line on my command. Fire Team A, advance with me. Now!” Kris was up and running as she finished the last word. Her team was a bit slower, but they were up by the time she was down.
“Hold your fire, you damn idiots,” a voice bellowed against the wind. “The trucks aren’t here yet. Who’s shooting?”
“I think it’s Kars. He and a squeeze headed back of the line a minute ago,” another voice shouted.
“Well, tell him to get his ass back up here.” Kris took advantage of the confusion to advance Fire Team B to the tree row ahead and was taking A Team on a double jump before a startled bandit loomed in front of her.
She shot him.
“Weapons free. I repeat, this is Ensign Longknife. Shoot ‘em if you got ‘em.” Unfortunately, there weren’t many targets. She was still a dozen rows to the rear of the ambush, more than 300 meters. Too far in this visibility. Sporadic fire came from beside her and ahead of her, but the only thing taking hits were the trees. Waving Fire Team B forward, Kris contributed a few rounds, more to keep heads down than hit any target.
“They’re behind us, you idiots,” the first voice was shouting off to Kris’s right. “Turn around. Shoot.”
“Scouts, whoever is doing the shouting is close on your front. Drop him if you can.”
Five trees to Kris’s right, two uniformed figures glided forward, bodies low, guns level. “We’re looking for him, ma’am.”
Now it was Kris’s turn to advance her line. She waved them forward. “Spens, watch our left for encirclement.”
“Been looking for that, ma’ am, stretched us out that way. We’re kind of thin.” Kris’s left flank, and her connection to Tom’s center, reported.
Kris went to earth beside a trunk maybe eight rows back, from the ambush. On her front, people were moving toward her. She scanned along the line, sending a burst into a tree here, the ground there. People anywhere near her hits were dropping to the ground as splinters showered them, mud sprayed them. One man, behind the rest, shouted at them, waved his gun. Kris drew a solid sight picture on him. He went over backward as three rounds took him full in the chest.
/> Five people took one look at him and ran. More hugged the ground, tried to burrow into the mud. Kris sent a long burst into the trees above them, and a half dozen took to their heels. Kris ignored them and checked to her right. More movement.
“Fire Team B, join us. Let’s hold this row of trees.”
She waved the second half of her command forward, signaling the two closest to her to go to her right. Her troops were spread too damn thin. Kris pulled up her reader to check the Sky Eye view. The hostiles seemed disorganized in front of her, some moving forward, others back. She shifted the view to check things out in front of Tom.
The screen went blank.
“Colonel,” she squeaked.
“We’re rebooting.”
“It’ll be over by then,” Kris snarled, shoving her reader back in her pocket. .
“I have a lot of fire and movement on my front,” Courtney hollered on net. “Lots of people shooting and moving my way. I think they’re trying to go around me.”
“Discourage them,” Kris ordered.
“I saw a couple try to run. One of their own shot ‘em. I got him, but there’s a lot of them, and I’m not sure I can hold.” Courtney’s words were punctuated by fire.
“Damn, why can’t a plan ever hold together?” Kris snapped. She glanced to her right. The two marine scouts were holding there, supported by two navy types. Yep, one of them was her hero wanna-be. “Navy and Marines to my right, you will hold this flank as we advance. Understood?”
She got four yeses. No shakes in the voices now.
“Fire Teams A and B, we’ve got to herd these bastards a bit faster than planned. We will advance by fire and movement to the road. Team A, prepare to advance. On my order, A Team advance. Now.”
Kris was up, shouting, firing at anything that moved. Behind her, half her team fired as well. Ahead of her, the advancing hostiles stopped in place, apparently startled by the sudden appearance of so many—or so few—shooters on their front. Kris went to ground well away from a tree trunk; she wanted a clear field of fire.
“B Team, prepare to advance. Advance. Now!”
They came out of their positions, shouting, shooting. Kris swept her sights over her front. A short burst sent four running, rifles tossed. A man turned to gun them down. Kris got him first. Another man was shouting, waving his hands as others fled by him. Kris drew a bead on him, but he went down as someone else beat her to the trigger. Kris kept searching.
Two people huddled on either side of a tree trunk. Both were shooting as fast as they could pull the trigger. Kris sent a burst into the trunk, shattering bark and splinters over them. They ducked. One was on his feet in a second, running, his rifle left behind. The other one shouted something, then went back to shooting. Kris put a burst between his eyes as her magazine ran dry. Reloaded, Kris shouted, “A Team,” as she got to her knees, “prepare to advance.” The next tree row would put them damn close to the hostiles. “Advance. Now!”
Kris fired a long, high burst as she raced forward, past the tree row occupied by her troops and into the space beyond. A pair in front of her threw up their hands and fell to their knees. Kris would have sleepy darted them, but there was no time for that now. “Run! Damn you!” she shouted.
Instead, they fell on their faces in the mud as bullets smashed into the tree near them. Kris spotted the shooter and sent him sprawling backward with a long burst.
Kris slid to ground behind a tree trunk. “B Team, prepare to advance. Advance. Tom, what’s it look like on your front?”
“Damned if I know,” was an unusual reply from the ensign. “We have people all over the place. Some running. Some advancing. Kris, I have no idea what is happening.”
“Courtney, can you hold?”
“I’ve pulled half of us back so that they have a longer walk to get around us. I think more of them are running than fighting. Maybe. Just a second.” Lots of rapid small arms fire over Courtney’s live mike. “Yeah, more are running.”
“Scouts, how is the right flank?”
“Plenty of targets, ma’am. Someone’s pushing them at us, and I can’t seem to find the bastard. We could use any spare help you got.”
Kris stood up, trying to listen to the sounds of the battle around her. Damn! What she’d give for thirty seconds of Sky Eye feed. The wind whipped the rain in her face as she turned to her right flank, bringing with it the crackle of small arms fire. She’d robbed Peter to pay Paul, helping out Courtney on her left. Now it sounded like her right was going all to hell. “Spens, you take charge of this line, link up with Ensign Lien, and keep pushing the bandits toward the hills.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’m taking the three Navy I can see,” Kris said, signaling the only trigger pullers in sight; one was a marine. “Wherever the other two marines are, fall out of line and join me on the right.”
“Yes, ma’ams” answered her.
Kris dropped back through the orchard rows, collecting her handful around her. The sound of fire grew louder. She kept her crew moving but did not return fire, even though an occasional stray fusillade came their way. This was her last reserve.
Whoever was hitting her right still could roll up her flank; the day was not over. Her one hope was to hit them so suddenly that they broke and ran before they knew what faced them. Through rain-dripping goggles, Kris struggled to make out forms ahead of her, heat images, movement, fire. Her front came to her in a kaleidoscope of light and darkness with no possible pattern.
“Ma’am, this is Petro, I’m in the lead. I think I can see one of our guys ahead of me.”
“Scout One, can you see us yet?” After a pause, “Negative, ma’am.”
“Let’s go another tree row,” Kris ordered.
“Petro, ma’am, that sure looks like Navy ahead of me. He’s firing to my left, and I’m taking a lot of incoming from there.”
“I see you now,” Scout One announced.
“Okay, everyone, load a full magazine,” Kris ordered, “and get a second one handy. Anyone dry?”
That got no answer.
“On my mark, hose them down, empty a full clip. Then we reload and charge. Any questions?”
None.
Kris loaded her own new magazine. That left her one last clip of 200 rounds and whatever was left in the one she’d taken out. It was going to be close.
“On my mark. Three, two, one, mark.” Around Kris the woods came alive with one continuous explosion. Like a jackhammer from hell, each rifle stitched the air, woods, flesh, with one continuous sweep. Kris had read about mad minutes. The M-6 didn’t need a minute to empty a 200-dart clip. The fire from Kris’s ten troopers raised the mad minute to new levels of insanity and gave back a good thirty seconds.
Kris’s rifle closed on an empty chamber. She yanked out the old clip and drove home a fresh one. “Charge,” she shouted, coming to her feet. “Up and at them,” she screamed.
“Go, go! Charge’ em,” and a roar that said nothing and meant only insanity came over the net as her command was obeyed.
Here and there survivors of the slashing volley hugged the ground, trembling, trying to raise their hands. A man stood, screaming at the others to follow him. Kris got him in her sights, but he was hit from so many different angles that he couldn’t fall but danced a macabre jig, dead but not allowed to drop. The bandits farther back were running. Most had already thrown away their weapons. Not all. Kris hit her mike.
“Those with a weapon will be shot,” rang through the woods, overpowering rain and wind. “Throw down your weapon, and you will not be harmed. Keep it, and you will die.
Most of the runners with guns took only a second to correct their error. A few did not. Maybe they were too confused to notice what was still in their hands. Maybe they were the bully boys and could not think of facing the world unarmed. There was no time to ask. Kris and other sharpshooters put them down quickly. A few of the armed runners who were not among the first to die took the extra moment that chance gave th
em to correct their blunder. Others didn’t. More died.
“The Sky Eye is back,” came quietly in Kris’s ear, reminding her that she was supposed to be the commander here. Reluctantly, she lowered her rifle, mastered the blood thirst raging in her gut, and fought to regain the calm that a commander needed. She took two deep breaths as she pulled her reader from her pocket. Rain and mud splattered it; Kris stepped beneath a tree and stooped beside its thin trunk for cover.
The bandits were running from her troops all along the line, fleeing for the hills to the west of the orchard. It looked like they were making a beeline for a stream and the cover of its wooded ravine. She could head them off, easily. Then she remembered; this wasn’t a battle for a body count. Most if not all of those running were harmless.
“Colonel, can you get me a scan that shows if any of those are armed?”
“They using old-fashioned metallic hunting rifles?”
Kris glanced around, saw five or six dropped weapons. “They look to be.”
“Magnetic mass is very low,” the Colonel answered.
“My call would be they’re down to their bootlaces and belt buckles.”
“Thanks, Colonel, I’d rather not pursue. Casualty report,” Kris changed the subject with hardly a moment’s thought.
“I have two wounded, one kind of bad,” Courtney reported. “Corpsman is already here.”
“Roger. Anyone else?”
“One flesh wound,” Tom reported.
“Oh shit, this is Scout One. I’ve got… I’ve got…”
“Where are you?” Kris turned. The riflewoman to her right was waving and pointing out of sight. Dread growing, Kris called up her last reserve of energy to jog where she was pointed.
She found the three she had left to hold the right flank standing over a body. One, the woman that had been behind Kris for the drive, sat on her knees, tears mixing with the rain. The marine that had been Scout One looked up as Kris joined them. “He was okay. I swear to God, he was okay. I saw him start to stand up when you ordered the charge. I figured he was right with us. I thought he was.”
Kris Longknife: Mutineer Page 20