Thorpe interrupted. ''That woman is always in trouble.''
''Yes, sir,'' Cortez said, but did not allow his train of thought to be derailed. ''Miss Longknife was reportedly escorted off planet one step ahead of the law. The information did not identify how many Marines or if they were fleet Marine force, recon, or embassy Marines. Nor did it say if she still had them with her.''
Thorpe said slowly. ''Wardhaven Marines,''
''Yes, sir.''
''What did it say about them?''
''Nothing, sir. It was a gossip column that mentioned the Marines in passing.''
''Civilians never care about the troops,'' Thorpe spat.
''Yes, sir. But Longknife and Marines. Are they still together?''
''Why would Marines waste their time with her? No, Colonel, once the Marines got her out, they got her out of their hair.''
''I would certainly think so, sir. However, there is this little matter of what she is doing here. We did not expect her. No source suggested we might encounter her here. But here she is, claiming to command a Wardhaven ship. What's the name of it? Wasp? Not exactly the name for a merchant.''
''But she is carrying cargo for one of the farmers here. She said that when she refused my order to sheer off.''
''There is that, sir. I admit, matters are very confusing.''
''The woman could confuse a bronze statue,'' Thorpe snorted, then eyed Cortez. ''Are you going soft on me, Hernando? Has she got you so confused you're chasing your tail? You want to cut and run in front of this … this … rich brat?''
''No, sir. Not at all,'' Cortez exploded. Back home in an officers' club, such talk might result in someone being invited outside. And that someone might be on sick call the next day.
That someone would not bear the proud name of Cortez.
Now the colonel swallowed and went on. ''However, Captain, my forces are gathering here in front of where I would have arranged an ambush. Before I stick my head into it, I'd like to know as much about the situation as I can. I do not like what I have learned. Do you know anything I should?''
Cortez managed, with effort, to turn that last remark into a question. A question it might be, but it was still good for taking an inch of skin off of William Tacoma Thorpe's proud hide.
The starship driver's face did not turn beet red. Not quite. He heard everything that Cortez had included and intended. He took a long moment to reply.
When it came, his words were deceptively soft. ''Colonel, you have your orders. We have good reason to believe that whatever forces Longknife has landed to train and equip the local terrorists are ahead of you. Advance and destroy them.''
Cortez saluted. ''Yes, sir.''
Thorpe returned the salute. ''Execute your orders. Let's kick some Longknife butt.''
The image in front of Cortez vanished into the air. Cortez had his orders. Now all he needed to do was make them happen.
He shook his head.
23
Colonel Cortez adjusted his body armor as he stepped down from his command vehicle's control center and let the door slam shut. Major Zhukov approached him but did not salute.
That was nice of him.
There were snipers out here; Cortez could feel them on the back of his neck. The young major was restraining himself from sending them a message. ''Here's the man you want. Kill him and make me commander here.'' Cortez wondered if by sundown today he might wish someone had put him out of his misery.
He certainly hoped for a happier ending.
Ten paces off waited the four company commanders; Cortez waved them to him. Captain Afonin was the only one in full battle gear. He led the company of Guard Fusiliers. His record was spotless, lacking only combat experience. If he survived the coming battle, he would be far ahead of his peers in the race for a general's star. The young man's grin showed he knew all that and was eager to begin.
The other captains' white smocks and white berets showed where the gold crosses had been removed from them. The two youngest of them greeted their colonel with scowls as if they wanted to continue the debate about wearing something that glinted so brightly in the sun … and made them such targets.
Promotion in the Lord's Ever Victorious Host was as much by theological catechism as by military skills. As far as Colonel Cortez was concerned, these first two had memorized far too much catechism and not spent nearly enough time in the field getting their white smocks dirty.
Cortez watched with more interest the advance of the third captain. Older, passed over twice, Colonel Cortez had insisted that he get to select at least one of the Host's company commanders. He'd placed his bet on Captain Joshua Sawyer and given him Third Company. With luck, the man would soldier on with Cortez long after this little affair was a happy memory.
Then again, officers of the Ever Victorious were notoriously sentimental about their monthly formation in ranks on the parade field before the temple. If Captain Sawyer could not break that habit, he'd probably retire as a captain in forty years.
As the two Ever Victorious captains halted before the colonel, they saluted as smartly as any toy soldier.
''Drop those salutes,'' Cortez exploded. The two captains paled as they hurriedly got their offending hands down. Captain Sawyer came to a halt, no sign that he had intended to salute. Then again, his timing might just have been lucky.
''Are you trying to get me killed?'' Cortez growled in a harsh whisper. If possible, the younger captain turned even whiter, and his brace stiffened to board straight.
The other officer didn't let any starch out of his brace, but his face did show, if for only a moment's flash, an unhealthy curiosity about Cortez's future. Cortez moved fluidly to stand nose to nose with that officer. He pointed to the swamp ahead. ''Out there is perfect ambush ground. You see it?''
''Sir, yes, sir,'' said both captains, the older leading the younger by half a beat. Captain Sawyer blinked as he studied the ground. He nodded ever so slightly.
''There are snipers looking us over even as we talk. Snipers who can put a bullet in your brain from eight hundred meters. Who do you think those snipers most want to brain?''
The two young captains stood speechless. Apparently, this was not part of their catechism.
''Officers,'' Captain Sawyer observed dryly.
''You go ahead and listen to that man, you boys,'' came in a soft cackle. A sergeant under arms was leading ten more hostages to the front of the line. One was a gray-haired old lady who seemed to know the basics of field craft. At least more basics than these two captains.
''You listen, and quit making such stupid fool mistakes,'' she said as she passed them, her gray eyes looking for all the world like an exasperated DI, even with all the lines of age and wear.
Where are these locals from? Cortez asked himself, yet again. But he had a JO to educate and a rage to keep warm.
''Good God in heaven,'' Cortez went on. The psalm singers had protested the use of that phrase, but Cortez's Spanish-Catholic heritage found nothing blasphemous about one of the few simple declarative sentences that he and the psalm singers could agree on. Now he put a full storm behind it. ''If I see another officer saluting or being saluted, the saluter will be shot. If not by some sniper, then likely by me. Do you understand?''
The rote lead-in got the rote answer from all three New Jerusalem officers. ''Sir, yes, sir.''
''Good. Captain,'' Cortez began, choosing the one who'd seemed far too interested in identifying Cortez for a sniper. ''Quick march your company up to where the minesweeping detail is on the causeway. You are the vanguard. Advance your force, keeping watch for anything in the water beside the road or in the trees of this swamp. Understood?''