«No. And that will probably haunt you. But there is still a job to do. Are you gonna do it?»
«Yes, sir.»
«You got observation posts out?»
«Yes, sir. So far nothing except the one company.»
«Patrols?»
«No. I've got one going out in a couple of hours. The Posleen have got to find this edge sooner or later. But we only got finished digging in a couple of hours ago. If I sent out a patrol right now, they'd go out a couple of hundred yards and rack out.»
«All right,» said the colonel. At least the lieutenant had a grasp on reality. «Just as well you don't have a patrol out there. We're gonna pass through your lines in about ten minutes. Then we're gonna stroll on down Bristow Road and try to take the Posleen like the monkey took the miller's wife. It might work and it might not. But there's a chance that we're gonna be coming back about as fast as we went out. You gonna be here?»
«Yes, sir.»
«Good. Glad to hear it. How 'bout you, Keren?»
«Maybe,» said the private. «Depends on who gets here first. If it's the Posleen, you better be ready to walk back to the mountains.»
«Fair enough,» the colonel said and put his helmet back on. The blue glow of the armor faded after a moment as he rolled his shoulders. « 'Bout time to go, don't you think?»
* * *
Ardan'aath snarled as yet another road to the north was bypassed. «Can we not turn yet?» he raged. He pointed to the north with his plasma cannon, where the thunder of artillery and rockets could be clearly heard. Beams of light and orange tracers could be seen ascending into the sky. «There! There is where the battle is!» He fired a spiteful plasma burst towards the distant battleline.
«Soon,» soothed Kenallai. He glanced at his eson'antai. «Soon?»
«Soon,» agreed the young Kessentai, fluffing his crest in thanks. «Up ahead is the road. Arnata'dra has already turned up it.»
«Finally!» snarled the older Kessentai. «The battle will be over before we can make this stupid turn!»
«Ardan'aath,» said Kenallai, «look you at the results of charging these thresh head on! There are more oolt'ondai dead at the feet of these thresh than Po'os in the Swarm!»
Ardan'aath fluffed his crest in anger but had to agree. The thrice-damned harvest of this world was damnably capable at battle. He had finally reviewed the information from Aradan 5, when no one was watching. The metal-clad thresh would be formidable foes. He had begun to consider how to fight them and had a few ideas. He hoped he would not be forced to test them.
* * *
It was more than ten minutes. The Fleet Strike battalion had only gotten their suits a month before. While the First of the Five-Fifty-Fifth averaged over a thousand hours of suit time, most of Second Battalion had less than three hundred hours. It took time for the officers to decipher the icons of their forces, to set up the formation, to finalize briefings and recharge the suits before going in harm's way. They had been doing all of those things while the colonel talked to the local commander. But it still took more than ten minutes.
In the end, it took more time than they had.
As the first scouts approached the Tenth Corps line, their sensors started to scream.
* * *
«Colonel,» said the S-3, traveling between the two lead companies and the reserve.
«See it,» barked Bishop. He had two «up» companies in movement with the third waiting to see if they ran into anything. If he had thought there were bad guys out there it would be the other way around. «Stop Bravo and Charlie. Have Charlie dig in with the Mech guys. Tell Bravo to cover Charlie until they're dug in. Send Alpha to the right to probe for a flank.»
It was a normal out-of-the-book reaction of a combat veteran officer. But it was a tactic for fighting humans, not Posleen.
* * *
The scout's eyes were flared wide to drink in every bit of luminance. The battle to the north occasionally caused painful flares in his vision, but he paid it no mind. He paid mind to few things, he was focused on the link between himself and his god and the question of where the thresh were. He hungered for them, for the approval of his god in the gathering and the harvest. Well down the hierarchy was self-preservation or pain.
He paused, dust-flaps lifting off his nostrils to scent the air. Behind him his pack-brothers paused as well, scenting. The smell was an acrid mixture of chemicals and organic respirations. He turned to look towards his god.
* * *
Arnata'dra studied his readouts for a moment and then cross-linked them to Kenallurial.
* * *
The Kessentai studied them for a moment and winced. «My edas'antai, we have a problem.»
Kenallai studied the readout for a moment and flared his crest. «Indeed.»
«We could attempt to bypass them . . .»
«Gutless babe . . .»
«Stop!» Kenallai studied the readout again. The signatures were clearly the metal-clad thresh and already they were extending their line. The next thing would be to drive forward on his oolt'ondai. In addition they were supported by regular troops lightly dug in. They appeared to be the warriors, thank the spirits of the land, rather than those bastard military technicians. But there would still be explosives and the ballistic weapons.
«No. There is a time to maneuver and a time to strike. We must drive into the rear of the thresh. Drive hard. If we maneuver around these thresh, the main body will attempt a retreat. We will drive through these and destroy the resistance in the pocket. The Net will recognize the worth and grant us extensions to our fiefs.»
«Yes, my edas'antai.»
«Ardan'aath.»
«My oolt'ondar?»
«Destroy them.»
Ardan'aath had studied the reports from Barwhon and Diess. These threshkreen were tricky and capable, more of a challenge in their way than the Po'oslenar in orna'adar. But there were only three things present to fear. The ballistic weapons, the fact that they dug like abat, and the metal-clad thresh.
The only way to deal with the ballistic weapons was to close with the thresh. Once his oolt'ondar was among the harvest, the ballistic weapons were forced to cease fire. And, if he was among them, they could be dug out like the abat that they were. The metal-clad thresh remained the only problem. However, they too were vulnerable to the Posleen blades and, as usual, they were few. He could overwhelm them with numbers, especially if he extended his line and concentrated on them.
Everything called for a wide front charge. It could not have been more perfect.
«Telaradan! Forward! Assarnath! To the left. We shall eat their get! Forward! Spread out. And kill the metal thresh first! Tel'enaa, fuscirto uut!»
* * *
«Dig in!» The Charlie Company first sergeant was striding down the line of suits, pushing them into position or juggling firepower. And giving a few hasty lessons.
«No! God dammit!» He yanked a cratering charge off the belt of the trooper who was shoveling dirt with his armored gauntlets. The suits could move a massive amount of dirt in a surprising hurry, but the digging charges were still faster. «Use your foxhole charges!» the NCO snarled over the company push, snatching another off a belt and slapping it into the gauntlet of a confused trooper.
* * *
«Here they come!» one of the outpost troops shouted and jumped out of his shallow hole to try to make the security of the lines. He almost made it to safety before his chest erupted in red. In the darkness a parachute flare floated upward with a hiss. There was a pop overhead and the field in front of the infantry company was lit like day. It was covered in centaurs.
* * *
The first to fire was the Third platoon machine-gun post. The orange tracers drifting lazily through the still night air towards the unexpected company seemed to trigger a firestorm.