It was impossible to conceal the excitement Kobbi felt as he gave his orders. “I’m sure you’ve been through a lot—but we could use Alpha Company’s help. Proceed six miles due west, take the bridge over the Ordo River, and secure it. We will get there as soon as we can. Over.”
There was a pause as Santana eyed the map projected on the inside surface of his visor, followed by a laconic, “Yes, sir. Alpha Six out.”
Kobbi, who could hardly believe his good luck, removed his helmet and looked up into the lead gray sky. “Thank you, God,” the general said humbly. “Thank you for one more chance.”
Sergeant Suresee Fareye was on point with Private Ka Nhan. Santana, Deker, and three additional T-2s were half a mile back, closely followed by the quad, two surviving half- tracks, and Lieutenant Zolkin’s platoon, a confi?guration that ensured both halves of the company would have leadership if the formation were cut in two.
Having won the battle at the lake and having covered the four miles back to the highway without encountering any Ramanthians, Santana had been hoping to rejoin the main column. But now, as Alpha Company followed the highway west, he understood the dilemma Kobbi faced. The bridge at Ordo gorge was both a choke point and the critical link to the section of the highway that would carry the allies down to the fl?atlands beyond.
The question, to the cavalry offi?cer’s mind at least, was whether the bridge was still in place. And if so, why? General Akoto was a smart old bug—and not the sort of offi?cer to forget a strategic choke point. So if the bridge had been left standing, there was a reason. Or reasons. One of those could be that having been able to defeat the allies, the Ramanthians might want to preserve the bridge, rather than being forced to construct a new one.
But whatever the truth, Santana knew he would fi?nd out soon enough. Meanwhile, of more immediate concern were the Ramanthian troops clearly visible to the north and south. They were traveling along the ridgetops, which, according to the topo map projected onto the cavalry offi?cer’s HUD, were going to converge a half mile east of the bridge!
Which meant the bugs were going where he was going. A very unpleasant prospect indeed. Especially if the chits got there fi?rst. Which, had more of them been able to fl?y, they almost certainly would have. “This is Alpha Six,” Santana said, over the company push. “Let’s pick up the pace. Out.”
There was snow and ice to contend with, plus burned-out wrecks that had to be pushed out of the way so the half-tracks could squeeze through, but the weary troops did their best. Most were operating on no more than three hours’ sleep, hadn’t had a proper meal in two days, and many had wounds sustained during the battle by the lake.
The legionnaire’s thoughts were interrupted by Fareye’s voice on the radio. “The bridge is intact, sir,” the Naa said as he examined the surrounding bluffs. “But I’m not sure why. Over.”
“Maybe the Ramanthians have plans for it,” Santana replied. “We’ll be there shortly. Cross over, push two miles down the highway, and settle in. If bugs come in from the west, I want as much warning as possible. Out.”
Fareye replied with the traditional double click and ordered Nhan forward. He felt exposed on the bridge, knew someone was watching him, and wondered if he would hear the shot that killed him.
As Deker rounded a corner, and began to make his way down a 10-percent grade, Santana saw the span up ahead. It was a well-maintained steel-arch bridge. According to the data fi?le that was associated with those coordinates, it was about 3,250 feet long. The structure was two lanes wide, had been constructed twenty-eight years earlier, and was 610 feet high. “Okay,” Santana said, as Deker arrived at the east end of the span. “I need a volunteer. . . . Someone with a head for heights. Over.”
“That would be any one of us,” Colonel Six said, from the passenger seat in the fi?rst half-track. “Take your pick. Over.”
The clones had been allowed to keep their weapons, thanks to the fact that Dr. Kelly was locked up inside Lupo, and Santana had Six on a short leash. “Good enough,” the cavalry offi?cer replied. “If you would be so good as to select a couple of your men, and send them down to inspect the underbelly of this bridge, I would be most appreciative. Over.”
“So we’re looking for explosives? Over.”
“Exactly,” Santana said succinctly. “Alpha Six out.”
Having dispatched Dietrich to help lower the Seebos over the edge, and keep an eye on them, Santana turned his attention back to what he saw as the most pressing issue. And that was the defense of the bridge.
But what if that was where Akoto wanted the allies to focus their attention? What if the real attack came from the west?
Santana lacked suffi?cient resources to put a large force on the far side of the span, but Lupo couldn’t climb the surrounding slopes, so it made sense to send him across. The cavalry offi?cer gave the necessary orders and held his breath as the huge cyborg began the 3,250-foot-long journey. Lupo was at risk, as were all of those within his cargo compartment, including Kelly and her patients. Thankfully, the trip went off without a hitch, and it was only a matter of minutes before the big cyborg was on the far side of gorge, and marching down the highway.
Having secured the other end of the bridge to the extent he could, it was time for Santana to address the surrounding heights. Rather than wait for the bugs to occupy them, and come swarming down, the legionnaire was determined to cut the insectoid aliens off on the ridgetops, where the fl?ow of enemy soldiers would be severely restricted. It was a madeto-order situation for his T-2s, any one of whom could single-handedly stop such an advance, so long as he or she had adequate cover and plenty of ammo. To avoid any such calamity, Santana planned to place two cyborgs on each ridge. That would allow them to rotate in and out of combat while hardworking CVAs humped ammo to them from below. No sooner had the T-2s been sent on their way than Colonel Six appeared at his side. Santana was standing on the bridge deck by then—having sent Deker up onto the south ridge. So the men were eye to eye as the clone delivered his report. “You were correct,” the Seebo confi?rmed. “Explosives are hidden under both ends of the bridge. That’s why the bugs left the span in place. They can blow it anytime they want to.”
Santana felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. Somewhere, within direct line of sight, a Ramanthian was watching them through a pair of Y-shaped bug binos. Lupo was a high-priority target, but the bugs had allowed the quad to cross in spite of that fact, which seemed to suggest that the chits had an even bigger payoff in mind. So what were they trying to accomplish? Stall the allied column and destroy it just short of the span? And thereby preserve the bridge? Or wait until the allies were streaming across and blow the structure at that point to infl?ict the maximum number of casualties? There was no way to be sure. “Can we disarm the explosives?” the cavalry offi?cer inquired mildly.
“I don’t know,” Six said honestly. “They’re probably booby-trapped.”
“Yeah, that would make sense,” Santana agreed.
“But there might be another way to deal with the problem,” the Seebo put in.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“We could screen the explosives off, so the bugs can’t see what we’re up to,” Six replied. “Then, rather than disarm the explosives, we’ll remove the steel beams they’re attached to. There’s a cutting torch on each half-track.”
Santana frowned. “That’s a clever idea, but won’t it weaken the bridge? Each quad weighs fi?fty tons.”