General Bernard paused and rubbed his almost totally bald head. That was a horse of a different color. He'd protested having the artillery pulled away when it occurred. If he called Army now and complained about nebulous reports of a Posleen globe force that was acting "funny" then nothing happened it could be the final nail in his professional coffin. The Army still had institutional memory all the way back to the Civil War of officers who were too quick to take counsel of their fears.
"Colonel, I want a full intelligence analysis," he answered. "Get a good count, or a good estimate. Detail all the ways they have been acting strangely and what the possible increase in combat effectiveness is from that. If it looks like a significantly increased threat, I'll take that to Army. I'll take it to CONARC if I have to. But I need more than 'these Posties are acting funny.' "
"I wish we had a Mike Force," McDonald said softly. "I hate just leaving the lurps to their own devices."
"I've heard about Mosovich before," Ryan said, tugging at his forelock. "He's not a guy to go down easy."
* * *
"I'm really getting too old for this shit," Mosovich growled as they darted across the road.
"Not that again," Mueller gasped. He'd given up trying to support one end of the Barrett and was carrying it on his own, along with his own weapons, equipment and ammunition, leaving the heavy ammunition pack to Nichols. Making it down the steep slope to the road had been . . . interesting. "You just got a rejuv; you're under warranty for another century."
" 'It's not the years, honey, it's the mileage,' " Jake answered. This field was thankfully untorn and he led the team across it at a lope towards the woodline. "I'm just getting really tired of trying to make it to woodlines before somebody starts shooting at me."
"Try flying on the outside of a saucer into the middle of a Posleen swarm," Nichols gasped, sweat pouring down his face.
"Well, it looks like we cheated death again," Mueller answered, as they made it into the woods. This area, however, was a fairly open decidous slope, leaf covered but with little undergrowth. They were open to being spotted until they made it halfway up the hill where there was a large thicket of rhododendron. The slope was reasonably gentle and Nichols took the Barrett back.
"Thanks, man," Nichols said in an embarrassed tone. "This is the first time in my life somebody's had to hump some of my gear."
Mueller just nodded. He and Nichols were of similar build, heavy, stocky bodies with a lot of muscle on a heavy-boned frame. But he overtopped Nichols by almost eight inches. "Don't sweat it," Mueller said and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, shit."
To the southeast there was a small valley that was surmounted by another saddle slightly higher than the one they had just crossed. It was out of sight of the one the humans had used and the road ran through it, bent to the left to pass down the valley then up through "their" saddle.
Another Posleen force was coming over the far hill, but this was no patrol. At its head was a God King saucer and although it was clear the humans hadn't been spotted yet, the saucer was headed straight for "their" hill.
They had left a laser retransmitter on the far hill, but there was no time for Sister Mary to hunt for it with an antenna. "Fire Control," Mosovich snapped into his UWB transmitter. "Fire concentration Juliet Four. Say again, Juliet Four. Now. Now. Now." The ultra-wide band system was difficult to detect, difficult to find and difficult to jam. That didn't mean the Posleen couldn't do all three, just that short transmissions were, generally, safe. However, if they had to depend on it the Posleen would eventually localize and destroy them.
But the operative word was "eventually." Right here and right now it was the only way to call for fire. And if they didn't get some metal on target, and jack quick, that was all they would have wrote for Mama Mosovich's son.
The God King was a good four hundred meters away and there was only one. The sensors of the saucers had been shown to be able to "see" humans at that range, but could not "discriminate" them if they were not firing. If the Posleen company had been headed down the hill the team would simply have dropped and hoped they weren't spotted. But it was clear from the movement of the force that it knew where the humans were and was headed over there to wipe them out.
Given that fact, there was only one thing to do; get the God King and hope they survived. The problem was that once they opened fire, despite their flash-suppressed weapons, if the God King was still up the sensors would point right to their position. So the God King had to be taken out, first, and the God King had to be taken out with the first shot.
Nichols flipped out the bipod of the Barrett and dropped to his stomach. He was heaving from the exertions of the last few hours, but he figured he could catch his breath for one decent shot. That was why they taught the technique at sniper school and he was starting to hyperventilate even as he was dropping. His heart was racing so it was a good thing the shot was only a few measly hundred yards; if it was over a thousand, and he had made shots like that, the shot had to be taken between heartbeats.
He took four more deep breaths, let the last one out in a long blow and leaned into the rifle.
* * *
Orostan shook his head as the data-link from Oldoman's tenar went dead. "Not even maneuvering; what a stupid abat."
The majority of his force was headed down Oakey Mountain road towards the last reported position of the human team. A few oolt had been left behind in case the humans slipped by, but the better part of six thousand Posleen were on the road with Orostan and his picked Kessentai near the front. At the front, however, were a few more of the more "expendable" oolt.
Who were trying to run through a rain of steel. The majority of the artillery available to Mosovich had not been pointed at the Rabun Lake area. The fire down there was from one battery of 155, trying to draw the attention of the Posleen off of the real moves of the team. The rest of the artillery, nearly two brigades, had been prelaid for support along their actual line of march. Some of it was set on the actual target that he had called for fire on, while the other tubes were set to fire on additional possible target points.
At his brief call for fire, the guns that were already set up simply pressed the firing button and went into reload. The other guns, those set on other Target Reference Points, were required to swing from their initial azimuth and elevation to reengage. But the system was fully automated for such a tiny adjustment and within fifteen seconds they had fired.
The time of flight was nearly forty seconds, so the Posleen force was given time to flay their surroundings for upwards of a minute before the first rounds began to impact. And then, forty seconds later, fifteen more batteries rained down.
After that it got bad.
"Their artillery is killing us," Cholosta'an muttered. "As usual." The God King swept his tenar back and forth as they went down the road towards the distant thunder of artillery. The habit had stood him in good stead in the face of human snipers and, because he never assumed that there were none around, he had survived when many of his age-mates did not.
"Hmmm," Orostan said noncomittally. "It is killing some of us. But we have them definitely localized," he added, tapping at the hologram in front of him. "They are transmitting now. Two bursts of communication have come from this hill. As soon as we crest the ridge they will be in view."