Santana turned toward the north and saw that a shuttle was coming in low and fast. Where had Quinlan been anyway? “This is Alpha Six,” Santana said. “Platoon leaders will reintegrate their forces, check for casualties, and rearm their T-2s. Lieutenant Seebo-620. I would be obliged if you and your men would establish a temporary perimeter around the company and provide security. Out.”
There was a series of acknowledgments as the clones exited the quads, and the T-2s were ordered to close with the quadrupeds, so they could take on ammo from the larger war forms. Meanwhile, the shuttle had put down. Quinlan and his T-2 were the fi?rst to disembark. Bravo Company’s quads followed, along with two platoons of T-2s, and a technical support unit. “Sorry we’re late,” Quinlan said, as the two men came together. “Our shuttle developed engine trouble after we hit the atmosphere, and we were forced to put down so the swabbies could clear it. But we’re here now—and the mission remains the same.”
Even though the T-2s were only three feet apart from each other, they weren’t privy to the conversation that was taking place on the command channel. “Roger that, sir,” Santana replied. “We can use the help. And we need to get under way quickly—before the enemy can reinforce their defenses.”
“There’s no need to belabor the obvious,” Quinlan responded irritably. “Tell your people that the attack will commence in fi?ve minutes.”
Santana nodded. “Sir, yes sir.”
There was an awkward pause at that point, as if the battalion offi?cer wanted to say something more, but wasn’t sure how to do so. Finally, having swiveled his body toward the bloody LZ where Alpha Company had put down, Quinlan spoke without looking back. “And Santana. . . .”
“Sir?”
“Well done.”
Santana was surprised, but managed a nod. “Thank you, sir. I’ll pass that along.”
“See that you do,” Quinlan said curtly as he turned back, and his normal persona reasserted itself. “Thirty seconds of that fi?ve minutes have elapsed. You’d better get cracking.”
Meanwhile, ten miles to the south and high atop the dam where the Ramanthian STOs were sited, Force Commander Rundee Homar stood atop a huge gun mount as he peered through a pair of Y-shaped binoculars. Having twice failed to put a signifi?cant number of troops on ground, the animals had fi?nally been able to land a company of grotesque cyborgs. And now, having been reinforced by air, the abominations were preparing to attack the STO emplacement. Which, given the way they had defeated the tanks, was doomed. Or that’s how it seemed until a truly revolutionary idea blossomed in Homar’s brain. What if, rather than destroy the energy cannons and withdraw the way he was supposed to, the Ramanthian were to turn one of the weapons at his disposal on the troops in the valley? And thereby destroy all of the animals with a single bolt of energy? That would leave him and his troops with plenty of time to slaughter the prisoners and blow the dam prior to an orderly retreat!
But there wasn’t much time, so he and his troops would have to work fast if they were to bring a cannon to bear on the valley. Homar lowered the binoculars, turned toward the battery behind him, and began to issue orders. With twice the number of T-2s and quads lumbering up the valley, Santana felt a renewed sense of optimism, as Quinlan led roughly half the battalion toward the heavily fortifi?ed dam. And, truth be told, it had been a relief to surrender overall command. Because even though he wasn’t especially proud of it, there was comfort in the knowledge that mistakes, if any, wouldn’t be his. In marked contrast to his behavior on Oron IV, Quinlan was leading from the front. Was that the result of his longdelayed promotion? Or a change of behavior that was somehow linked to his daughter’s death? There was no way to know as the portly colonel led his troops into battle. Bravo Company, which had been ordered to lead the way, was within range of the enemy guns by then and opened fi?re with a vengeance. The legionnaires could lay down another smoke screen, and zigzag back and forth, but there wasn’t much more they could do other than pray as shells exploded all about them. Bravo Company took the brunt of the fi?re, and it wasn’t long before what had been an orderly formation was reduced to a ragged group of survivors. One of the quads lost a leg, T-2s were tossed into the air like toys, and bio bods were ripped apart by fl?ying shrapnel. It was a horrible sight and made all the worse by the fact that there was very little the legionnaires could do as the Ramanthians fi?red down on them.
Meanwhile, Force Commander Homar was having problems of his own. The concept of using one of the STO cannons to destroy the animals with a single shot had been brilliant. But, having turned one of the thirty-foot-long monsters to- ward the north, his gunners were having trouble depressing the barrel far enough to target the oncoming aliens. The problem stemmed from safeties built into the software used to aim and fi?re the big weapons, and mechanical stops that were intended to prevent the very thing the Ramanthian offi?cer was trying to do. The fi?rst issue had been resolved by switching the control mode from automatic to manual. And now, as Homar looked on, a technician was cutting his way through the last of three six-inch-thick metal tabs that kept the cannons from fi?ring on the planet’s surface. But the humans were coming on fast, and Homar knew that if he and his gunners failed to fi?re the weapon soon, the animals would be too close to hit. So as the last piece of glowing metal hit the fl?oor, the Ramanthian gun crew hurried to crank the long black tube down as far as it would go, and locked the barrel in place. The accumulators were fully charged, so all Homar had to do was shout, “Fire!” and a blue comet was born.
For the duration of its short life the enormous energy bolt had mass. It was only a foot in diameter as it left the cannon’s barrel, but quickly expanded to twelve times that size, so that Santana could feel the heat as the fl?aming comet passed over his head. Then he heard a loud shriek, quickly followed by an enormous explosion, and a fl?ash of light so intense the legionnaire might have been blinded had he been looking north.
That was when an earthquake shook the ground under Deker’s feet. A shock wave hit the war form from behind and threw him facedown. Santana fell with him. The cyborg struggled to stand as echoes of the thunderous explosion bounced back and forth between the valley’s walls. It took a moment for Santana to process what had occurred, but once he had, the offi?cer realized how lucky the battalion had been. Because rather than strike the legionnaires as intended, the enormous ball of energy had passed over them, and blown a huge divot out of the valley’s fl?oor. But that wasn’t all . . . Either because they were as shocked as the legionnaires were, or the Ramanthian gunners had been blinded by the initial explosion, their guns had fallen silent! “This is Alpha Six,” Santana proclaimed. “Let’s go up and kill those bastards!”
Though not the most precise order the legionnaire had ever given, it was among the most heartfelt, and other offi?cers were quick to echo it—including Lieutenant Colonel Quinlan, who was among the fi?rst members of the battalion to close with the dam and start up the access road that led to the top. It was too narrow for the quads to follow and was interrupted by a number of switchbacks, each of which constituted a natural defensive point. Colonel Quinlan was followed by elements of Bravo Company and Alpha Company, with Santana in the lead. The battalion’s ranks were thinner now and the Seebos were hard-pressed to keep up with the fast-moving cyborgs. Santana took advantage of the situation by instructing the clones to seek out and protect the civilian POWs. It was an order he half expected Quinlan to countermand. But if the colonel heard the interchange, he gave no sign of it, as lead elements of the battalion arrived at the fi?rst switchback, where they were confronted by hundreds of Ramanthian regulars. At that point, what had been a largely long-distance duel carried out with high-tech weapons was transformed into a bloody hand-to-pincer brawl that would have been familiar to the legionnaires of the distant past. Neither side could use hand grenades, lest they kill their own soldiers, but assault rifl?es used at close quarters could punch through body armor. And some legionnaires, like Master Sergeant Dice Dietrich, carried backup weapons for such occasions. His weapon of choice was a shotgun that made distinctive boom, clack, boom sounds as it was fi?red into the crowd. Often accounting for two or three enemy soldiers with a single shot.