Bunch, Chris & Cole, Allan Sten 1 Sten

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"Recruit captain, take charge of your men. You have two minutes until the problem commences."
Lanzotta slid away into darkness.
Sten motioned to Morghhan, his recruit first sergeant They slithered away from the CP area. Sten
dropped a UV filter over his eyes and flicked on a shielded maplight
"Sauve qui pent and all that crud," Morghhan whispered. "You wanna surrender right now and avoid the
morning rush?"
"Us killer guards never surrender."
"You think he's setting you up?"
"Damfino. Prog no. Retrograde movement's supposed to be a bitch, they told us."
"You figure it, Sten. I'm gonna go practice up speaking fluent Enemy." Morghhan low-crawled back to
the CP and waiting runners.
"Four and three and two and one," Lanzotta said, somewhere in the darkness. "Begin."
He must've started the simulator program. High whining . . . "Incoming!" somebody shouted, and the
ground rocked under him. Violet light laserd just overhead. Sten hoped the sweep-track automatic
weapons which provided the "enemy fire" weren't set too low or with random-center fire or with a
movement homer.
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Sten tapped the channel selector on his chest to ALL CHANNELS, and briefly outlined the plan to the
listening troops.
"Six . . . this is two-one. We have movement on our front." That was Tomika, acting-jack platoon leader
of Second Platoon.
Sten overrode onto the command net
"Estimation, two-one?"
"Probe attack. Possible feint. Approximate strength two platoons. One hundred meters out, on line."
"Two-one . . . this is six. Hold firev One-one? Any activity on your front?"
"Not hang on. That's affirm. Got infiltrators working up the hill will aw clot!"
Lanzotta's voice broke in. "Unfortunately the First Platoon leader exposed himself and was hit. Fatal."
Sten ignored Lanzotta. "One-two. Assume command. . Estimation?"
"Affirm. Infiltrators. Company size. Prog first prong attack. Shall we open fire?"
Sten thought quickly. "Negative. When they cross fifty-meter line, they'll probably open fire.
Prog artillery support. First and third squads will withdraw twenty-five meters noisily. Second and
fourth squads engage when they reach your positions and first and third counterattack. Prog another
feint. Top! Get weapons platoon to blanket their rear and break up the second wave. Take the CP, I'm
shifting to Third Platoon."
Clicked the mike off. "Runner Let's go."
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They went off into darkness, Sten navigating by treetop shadows. Fire intensified, and the ground under
them quivered.
Sten jumped as what sounded like a thousand sirens went off. "Psych," he told the runner. "Just noise.
Let's move it!"
Sten dropped into the Third Platoon leader's dugout.
"What's out there?"
Sten held his breath and closed his eyes again. Listening. Sweeping his head from side to side. He
swore. "Clot hell! Armor!"
"I don't hear anything!"
"You will. Sounds like two units. Scrunchies pigback for support."
Tagged the radio,
"Weapons ... I want illumination. Stand by ..."
The air hummed.
"Weapons, this is six. Do you receive?"
A runner materialized out of the night and slid into the hole.
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"All units. Stand by. Scramble R-Seven." The communicator selected a simple code and keyed the
company's transmitters to it. The code would be broken in a few seconds if the enemy had analyzers. But
by then Sten would've finished the plan.
"Two-one. Sequence your troops past the CP, and reinforce one-two. Move! Two. On command, you
will begin a frontal assault straight forward."
Sten took a deep breath. This training was just real enough to make even simulated suicide work creepy.
"Three-one. Your men will hold the armor below your position. Your orders are to hold regardless. If
we break out, you and your men are to exfiltrate solo.
"All units. The company will make a frontal assault against the feint in Second Platoon's sector. We will
break out, and each man is on his own. You have the correct bearing on friendly lines. You will evade
capture and join the regiment by dawn.
"That is all. Keep only water, basic weapon, and two tubes. Dump everything, including radios. Good
luck. Move!"
Sten cut the radio. Lanzotta appeared beside him. "Administrative note, Recruit Captain Sten. With
dead radios, maneuver control can't inflict casualties."
Sten found time for a grin, "Sergeant, that never crossed my mind." He was being honest. Sten turned to
his CP unit "You heard it. Drop 'em and let's chogie." "Lanzotta just wiped out weapons platoon. Sez it
was counterbattery off your fire mission." Sten groaned. "Lenden." "Go, Sten."
"Honk down about five meters and gimme a hand-held." "Then I'm gonna be dead?" "Then you're gonna
be dead."
"Maybe they'll give us corpses a ride back." The runner hunched out of the hole, pulling a launcher from
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his weapons belt. He touched the fire key, and the flare hissed upward. A scanner caught him, and pulled
the plug. Simulator-transponder went red, and Lenden swore and started back for the assembly area.
The flare bloomed, and Sten saw two . . . five . . " seven assault tracks grinding up the base of the hill.
"Flash "em."
The platoon leader keyed his central weapons board, and high-pressure tanks, emplaced at the hill's
base, sprayed into life. The gas mixed with the atmosphere, and the acting lieutenant fired the mixture.
A fireball roared across the hill's base, and three of the tracks caught and exploded.
"Leapfrog back. About sixty meters and set up an interior perimeter."
Sten rolled out of the hole and skittered back toward the CP:
By the time he flattened beside Morghhan, he had a plan.
Shadows went across his front toward Second Platoon's area. Firing suddenly redoubled in volume from
the Third's last-stand perimeter.
Sten gratefully shed his pack and command net, port-armed his weapon and went after them.
There was dead silence in the office.
Sten stared straight ahead.
"Four survivors, recruit company commander. You were wiped out."
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"Yes, Sergeant Lanzotta." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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