The first Wyzhnyny who trotted into view was the point man, followed by two other scouts. The nearest passed perhaps six feet in front of Isaiah, who'd have held his breath if he'd had lungs. The rest of the Wyzhnyny followed in single file, Isaiah counting them.
He'd gotten to 143 when Koshi said, "NOW!" Then the entire platoon opened fire with both arms-blaster and slammer. There were screams and roars as Wyzhnyny fell, kicking, thrashing, or simply dying. The first return fire was almost immediate, homing on muzzle pulses. Isaiah took a hit; his camouflage field flashing from the energy received. They'd all been shot with hard pulses before, deliberately in training, to prepare them. So he ignored it, looking for more targets. Knocked down another, and another… The Wyzhnyny didn't go prone to fire, but stayed on their feet. After a few seconds, those still standing paused to reload. Isaiah had exhausted the power slugs in his clamp-ons, and jacked in replacements.
"TAKE THEM!" Koshi ordered, and the bots charged, juiced by an electronic analog of adrenaline. The Wyzhnyny hadn't expected this. Those who'd reloaded fired. The others ran. Two slammer pulses jarred Isaiah, his camouflage field flaring strongly, reflecting from the visor of the Wyzhnyny who'd fired. Isaiah grabbed him by the head, jerked, twisted, and threw the Wyzhnyny violently to the side, off his feet, before shooting him.
He paused, and saw no Wyzhnyny standing. The order was to kill the conscious wounded; a safety measure that was also a merciful act, with no Wyzhnyny medics on hand. Unconscious enemy wounded were to be taken prisoner, but no one had told them how to distinguish the unconscious wounded from one playing possum. And at any rate, slammer and blaster wounds were typically fatal.
A few minutes later, when the platoon gathered around Lieutenant Koshi, there were no prisoners. Only a Wyzhnyny body tally: 119. There'd probably be more scattered along the path to Wyz Country, dead of wounds. Courtesy of a buoy, Isaiah's HUD showed icons moving rapidly east-southeastward.
The platoon started back to camp at an easy lope, Isaiah feeling embarrassment along with exhilaration. It had been almost too easy, killing so many with so little injury to themselves. Then he wondered if the Wyzhnyny had felt that way when they'd wiped out the local humans who'd declined evacuation. The thought didn't entirely erase his discomfort, but it allowed him to dismiss it.
It had been Esau who'd suggested it, when Ensign Berg gave the platoon its first briefing on the mission. "We ought to paddle along close to the edge," he'd said. "Trees hang over the water there. Cover, in case some Wyz scout flies over. And generally, the outside of a meander is better than the inside. The current cuts deeper, so we can stay close to the bank, under the trees, and be harder to see. The inside of a meander is likely to be shallow, so we'd have to keep farther to the middle."
Afterward, Ensign Berg ran it past Captain Mulvaney, who mentioned it to General Pak at a planning review. "What's the young man's name again?" the general asked.
"Esau Wesley, sir."
Pak remembered the name now; that was the young sergeant who'd unearthed the renegade fugitives. "Keep an eye on that young man, Captain. He sounds like promotion materiaclass="underline" smart, and takes responsibility."
Mulvaney had grinned. "We've made a project out of him, General, since early on. Especially his platoon sergeant."
Back at B Company, Berg told Hawkins what Pak had said, but the sergeant didn't tell Esau. It seemed to him it might make the Jerrie self-conscious; make him try too hard. What he did tell him was that Mulvaney had told the general, giving him, Esau, the credit.
From the time they started downstream, noise discipline was absolute. The buoys had been ordered to give special attention to the Mickle's and its vicinity, but you couldn't know for sure. There was Wyzhnyny livestock here and there, and probably Wyzhnyny herdsmen, indistinguishable by buoy imagery.
Esau's advice was heeded: They stayed mostly near the riverbank, and on the curves, favored the outside. Once Captain Mulvaney's HUD showed a Wyzhnyny floater pass over, more or less in line with the river where they were, but it didn't react.
They moved rather briskly, without seeing or hearing anything threatening. The major moon-"Elder Hofer's Lamp"-rose at about 2330 hours, so during the last hour of their river trip, the visibility was better than earlier. That increased the tension level, but not drastically except during one interval when there was no woods along the east bank, and direct moonlight reached the water.
For several minutes, Captain Mulvaney had been paying more attention to his HUD than to the river. The icon of his sole scout was nearing the tank park. "Almost there, men," he murmured. "Easy now. Quietly. Quietly." He rounded a bend. Ahead lay a straightaway about a hundred and fifty yards long. "It's just before the next bend," he whispered. Then added, "Kill your HUDs." The lines on the HUDs were hair-thin, but even so, they were a needless risk now.
This was far the most dangerous stage of the operation yet. Mulvaney felt a focus and acuity of senses greater than anything he'd experienced before in his thirty-three years.
As squad leader, Esau rode in the bow of his boat, watching the riverbanks, the woods, and the boats ahead, his senses as focused and acute as his captain's. The inside of the last bend had been on their left, the side they wanted, and they could have run right up on the mudbank there. It would have made for easier unloading. But then they'd have had to approach through the woods, and riding the current was quieter.
He'd glimpsed one of the flak towers, its platform and cab-turret actually-not much above the treetops. He ignored it; he had more immediate things to pay attention to. On the straightaway he saw no good place to land. The east bank was a natural levee about five feet high, about the highest he'd seen. And abrupt; almost impossible to pull the boats up. This hadn't been apparent in the images from the buoys. They'd either have to leave men behind to hold the boats, or struggle them up onto the levee, making a certain amount of noise. Or let them float on unoccupied, which would leave the company stranded.
But it didn't come to that. Just before the next curve, the high bank had been dozed-sloped and smoothed for easy access to the water. As boat by boat they reached the bend, the bow man slipped into the water close to shore, water waist to chest deep, and guided his boat to the sloped-down bank. Their gear on their backs, shoulders, and harness, the rest also slipped over the side, and transferred demolitions and other gear to shore. Then quickly but quietly they raised the boats from the water, carried them ashore, and very quietly stacked them four high. As soon as a squad had landed their boat, they moved up the bank, weapons in hand, and formed a defense line at the brow while others landed behind them.
Captain Mulvaney had been the first. Wet to the hips, he crawled to the top of the bank, and with night vision examined the Wyzhnyny encampment. From time to time he raised his visor and used his night binoculars to pick up details. Trees obscured the view, but he saw enough to put the scene together.
The buoys had given him the basic layout, subject to uncertainties. There were definitely no tanks on the side toward the river. They were lined up along the other three sides, well spaced, forming a box several acres in size. Inside the box lay almost everything else-mainly shedlike prefab buildings that no doubt served as battalion and company headquarters, mess halls, machine shops, and probably officers' quarters. And mounds that had to be bunkers; probably concrete, covered with earth. They couldn't be deep, Mulvaney thought, the water table couldn't be more than six feet below the surface. By each tank was a tent large enough for its crew to live in. Outside the "tank box," at least on the far side, were more tents. Probably squad tents for the battalion's infantry company or companies. Except for them and the flak towers, everything seemed to be inside the box.