''One last thing. I'm assigning the marines and petty officers the responsibility for putting down the boss men among the bandits and their thugs. The job for the rest of you is to put rounds in the air, in the ground, knocking splinters out of trees, show anyone willing to cut and run that now would be a good time to do just that. Put the fear of the Navy in them. You send the hungry ones running, and the marines and your petty officers will put down the ones that need it real bad.''
''If we see someone not running, can we shoot ‘em, too?''
''Have at them. Just anyone who shows you their back, let them run.''
''Where can they run to, ma'am?''
''I think the last farm would be glad to take them in.''
The troops glanced around at their other team members. Some actually had nervous smiles for one another. Quiet. ''We can do that.''
''Yeah, that's not too hard.''
''If they run, let ‘em. That's okay.''
Kris let that sink in for a moment, then sent each truck team to its own corner of the small wood. Tom seemed actually happy to take the lead for Truck One. Kris moved from one team to another, observing, encouraging, stomping firmly on one marine who exuded the impression that his survival of the Corps basic training gave him the right to lord it over his navy students. The next marine had a better handle on training. Weapons skill was a light to be shared, not a hammer to belabor the student.
Kris stood beside her hero wanna-be as he sent rounds into a clump of weeds two hundred yards out. ''Good shooting,'' she said.
''Not bad for a coward,'' he spat into the rain.
''I don't see a coward.''
''I locked up this morning. Didn't do a damn thing.''
''How long did that shoot last, nine, ten seconds?''
''I don't know. Seemed like forever,'' the guy said, staring at his rifle.
''I checked my rifle's computer. Nine point seven seconds from first shot to last. Didn't give a hero or coward much time to react. This time, I'll see that you get more time going in. Then you tell me which you are, coward or hero.''
''You think so?''
''I wouldn't have you wasting my ammunition if I didn't. How many rounds you shoot in boot camp?''
''I was only halfway through, ma'am, when they pulled me off for this. Never did get to shoot.''
Damn! Kris suppressed a snarl at herself. I should have rechecked this crew's records before I took them on the road. ''Now you have fired a rifle. What do you think of it?''
''It's sweeter than any sim.''
''Then keep shooting,'' Kris said and continued her walk. By the time each recruit, including the marines, had fired off a clip, there was an air of confidence mixing with the rain.
As rifle practice finished up, the first Spy Eye coverage of the problem woods came in. It showed a lot of thermal images and human heartbeats. At least this bunch of robber barons hadn't thought to invest in high tech. Thank God the Colonel had arranged for the Spy Eye. While the last rounds were fired, Kris and Tom studied the enemy's array.
''Sloppy,'' Kris concluded. ''They're expecting us to come right up the road.''
''Yes,'' Tom agreed. ''But this bunch seems a bit smarter than the last. They haven't cut down a tree. They want us to drive into the trap before they start shooting.''
Kris shrugged. ''So we make their trap into our trap.'' As she turned back to the trucks, her eyes fell on one of their dejected prisoners, leaning half out of the back, trying to catch water on his tongue.
''Tom, we're going into a fight. POWs cannot be subjected to hostile fire. Tie them to the trees here. If things work out, we'll come back and get them. Otherwise, I'll call that last farm, tell him to come pick them up. Any he wants to offer a job to, we'll call it even. Any he wouldn't hire, I'll pick up next week.''
Tommy eyed the prisoners for a moment, then brought his hand up in salute. ''Yes ma' am.''
''Now let's put it to some real bastards,'' Kris said, returning the salute.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kris halted the convoy as they approached the walnut orchard. The trees were orderly, row on row, when seen from above. Ragged with leaves, none showed fruit. The road made a slight jog as it entered what had once been a swamp, setting the rows at an angle, hiding the trucks as they stopped in line.
Kris had her battle planned.
The bandits were about a klick into the woods, arranged loosely in two lines, one to the right, the other to the left of the road. The first two rows of trees closest to the road were empty. Most of the hostiles were bunched in the third, fourth, or fifth line of trees. This uncomplicated array had been invented by hill tribes thousands of years ago and used again and again for the simple reason that it worked.
If the target didn't know you were waiting for them.
Kris did.
''Tom, take half the team and advance slowly on both sides of the road. I'll take the marines and two other truck teams on a fast walk behind their right. We'll open fire, driving them left and back. You can't tell it through the rain, but there're some hills off to the left. If we can get them running that way, they won't stop until they're long gone.''
''We can do that,'' Tom agreed.
Dismounted, the troops spread out, the rain and wind lashing at their ponchos. Courtney's truck team and half of another took the far left flank. Tom took the right side of the road with another seven troopers. That left Kris with fourteen, herself included, to begin the flanking maneuver.
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?