First Casualty (6 page)

“Maybe they'll bitch to whoever's running those guns and give them a good case of 'Did I do that?'“ Mary managed a chuckle. While Lek finished his programming, the moles dug her hiding place.

'They're yours.” Lek came back on. “Use two on the rifles at your doorstep.”

So the others knew her predicament. Moisture rimmed Mary's eyes. Hadn't been many in her life who cared, certainly not when the missile that saved her life might be the one that wasn't there to save his. Blinking the water away, Mary got back to business. “Three to each side of the crater, and only one on my doorstep. Don't want to hang a welcome mat out.”

“You got a fallback position, Mary?” Lek asked.

“Working on one now.”

'Take care.”

“If I was careful, I wouldn't be here,” Mary breathed as she switched off. She did one more check. Lasers were warm, but not in place. She edged them forward. Holding her breath, she punched six missiles out.

“Rockets incoming,” sensors shouted.

Major Longknife twisted around to face the sensor station. “Any laser designators?”

“None pointing. I got strange electromagnetic emissions, but they don't match anything in the Earthies' inventory.”

“Artillery.” Longknife kept his voice even. “I want WP out there. Air burst at a hundred meters.”

“On the way.”

“Any laser rifles in range?”

“Two LR's at maximum range.”

“Not much help. Artillery, as soon as the lasers light up, I want them smashed.”

“We got twelve rounds of Willy Peter out there,” artillery reported, “and we're reloading with high explosive. Few problems can't be solved with a round of HE.”

“Good.” Longknife settled back. It would be a battle between their measures and his countermeasures. He glanced at the sensors board; the rockets stayed low. A laser missed. Its target was turning back. “They're aimed at the rim. Of course.”

* * * *

Mary waited for the missiles to start their turn back to the rim before she lit off the designators. One by one the six red dots on her heads-up display turned to green.
Target acquired.

Then all hell broke lose.

The infrared sensors lit up like a fire. The lasers chirped in protest as the missiles' dots turned black.
Targets not acquired.
Quickly, Mary changed to vid. Giant puffs of white stuff blossomed along the rim, blocking the lasers.

“Willy Peter, Mary.” The LT's voice filled her helmet. “They've blanketing you with white phosphorus. Thick to stop lasers, hot to stop infrared. It'll settle, but in low grav not very fast. The missiles should home on where they were targeted, I hope. Douse your lasers and get them out of there.”

Right. Mary had read about WP as a countermeasure for lasers. Damn, why hadn't she thought about it? Quickly she ordered her lasers to scoot back. On second thought, she ordered everything to scoot. Rocks around her shook. Her missiles were hitting something. Then the chamber really shuddered. Mary danced around like an upped hopper, wishing she had the drugs in her that gave the hoppers the energy as well as the oblivion.

* * * *

Major Longknife scowled. “Check fire, check fire. Flying rocks are doing their job for 'em.”

“Roger.” The artillery barrage ceased. The rain of rocks and boulders on his troops stopped.
Wonder how many sensors we killed? How many of our own troops? Damn war.

The incoming rockets had been bad enough. A laser rifle had gotten only one. Some ballsy assault rifle had clipped another. It hadn't done much good; inertia kept the pieces going in loose formation. Most troops had taken off hopping as soon as it was clear where a rocket was heading. Still, flechettes had gotten too many, and the rockets' flight had been short. Unspent solid fuel, still flaming, had speckled others. Plasti-armor that could stop a flechette burned if heated enough. The computer took the injured off net, but not before the first horrible screams.
War never got easy.

“Artillery, you got any empty carriers?”

“Some. Was about to head them back for more smoke and HE.”

“Hang red crosses, stars, and crescents on 'em and send them out there.”

“You don't think they'll shoot 'em?”

“Won't know what kind of war these folks came to fight until we see, will we?”

“Right, sir, I'll ask for life-saver volunteers.”

“Get 'em out there, and get your gunners ready. I'm gonna start the show any time now.”

The ambulances were a mercy—and a mission. Buddies were caring for buddies. So long as first aid was the priority, combat was a distant second. But once their mates were turned over to the medics, the blood lust would come flooding back to the survivors. The major glanced around. His artillery was ready. D and E companies were ready to roll. Get the wounded off the field, and it would be time. Longknife gave himself ten minutes.

* * * *

Mary risked two vids. The scene they showed was horrible.

Two hundred people Had been huddled under the rim when the missiles came. There were still two hundred battle suits out there, but a lot of them weren't people anymore.

She'd never considered unspent rocket fuel a weapon. Burning figures withered on the ground, trying to put out fire that carried its own oxidizer. The lucky ones sluffed the fuel off as they rolled in the dust. No, the lucky were the ones just lying there, dead and burning.

“God, what have I done?”

A red light flashed, drawing her attention to the top of the picture. Wheeled vehicles were making their way down the escarpment. They were going slower than she'd expect for an attack rush, but Mary no longer trusted anything in battle to be reasonable. “Lieutenant, we got wheels headed our way.”

“Show me.”

Happy to get away from the close-in picture, Mary zoomed in on a pair of the approaching rigs.

“No shooting this time, Mary. Those carriers have red crosses on 'em. They're ambulances, come for the wounded. We don't shoot at red crosses.”

No way would Mary shoot at something come to take those wretched pictures out of her vision. She shuddered; it would take more than ambulances to get them out of her memory. She'd burned and slashed and killed them. And they'd do the same to her if they got a chance. “Lieutenant, mind taking over the big picture for a while? I got housekeeping chores to do.”

“Dig deep, Mary. We've got a truce while the ambulances are on the field. I'll mind the store.”

Mary started looking for places to hide.

“They're leaving the ambulances alone,” sensors whispered as if even a strong word might disturb the delicate peace.

“Might as well. They know we know how to cover vehicles now,” artillery butted in.

“Let's credit virtue where it's due,” Ray muttered. “Artillery, your crew ready?”

“Just say the word.”

“Enough of the right stuff?”

“I'd like more WP, but you know where my ammo carriers are.”

“Yeah.”

“Sir,” whispered sensors, “shouldn't we go now? The more time we give them, the better dug in they'll be.”

“Yes, son, but B and C companies are out of it. Their officers and noncoms need time to put them back into fighting order. D and E are our reserves, but only E's got armored carriers. I don't want to send them forward until B and C are in solid contact. And I got a flag of truce on the field. They're honoring it, and I don't intend to make this war any viler than it has to be. We will honor our own flag of truce.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But that doesn't mean we don't think for the next ten minutes. We've tapped them. They've tapped us. To hell with love taps. I want a knockout next. So far, I don't even know what I'm up against.”

“Sir, I think I've got something,” said sensors slowly.

“I'm listening.”

“I told you the background electromagnetic noise from the rim didn't match any stuff in the Earthies' inventory.”

“Right.”

“I think I got a picture of what these folks are using.” Ray's heads-up changed to an up-close picture of the rim. Shells had gouged it; something dangled from the rock.

“What's that?” artillery asked.

“It's not military issue,” sensors answered. “It took a major search of the database to find. It's the latest commercial infrared sensor. They use it in mines. It cost a fortune.”

“We're facing mining equipment?” Artillery wasn't persuaded.

“It looks like that to me.” Sensors stood his ground.

“That might explain a lot,” Longknife said slowly. “They've dug in faster than I expected. They've got a few savvy types and a lot of dumb ones. And all of them are green. Okay, crew. What do we do with that assumption? We got ten minutes before I want to kick this off. Talk to me.”

Ten minutes can go quickly when experts at organized mayhem put their minds to it.

* * * *

The seconds ticked by, each one an hour long and not nearly long enough. Mary had nothing to do while the moles did their thing. Into that time-twisted void crept visions of the hell Mary had created. She didn't turn on the vid. She didn't have to. All her life, Mary had been ... well, if not a good girl, at least a woman who kept out of trouble. Go to work. Give the man his time. Don't talk back. And cover your mouth when you laugh at the boss man or brown-noser as they get theirs.

Mary got what she deserved. A few beers with friends. A few parties. Here and there a night worth remembering. That was life, thank you very much. Now she had killed. Good God, how she had killed. Now she could pray. Pray that there was no God to see what she'd done. Outside were people, buddies of the ones she'd killed. All she had to do was open the door. They'd find her. One shot from a needle rifle and she wouldn't have to worry about forgetting the pictures. One shot, hell. They'd probably empty their magazines into her. She wouldn't feel a thing.

Mary fingered the door. The jacks would swivel it. They'd do the rest. Through her trembling fingertips, Mary felt movement on the other side. They were coming for her.

* * * *

“Sergeant, take a look at this.” “Private, get a move on. We're wanted at the pass.” “Nothin's gonna happen 'til the ambulances are out of here. Take a look, Sergeant. There's a hole in the rock.”

“There's holes all over this damn rock.”

“Yeah, but not in a straight line.”

“Straight line?” The sergeant had gone outside the rock outcropping. The private had taken the inside. Two other privates had joined him by the time the sergeant got back.

“Shit, look.” The second private fingered the gap in the rocky wall. “It's straight, and as wide as my little finger.”

“You mean prick,” put in the third private.

“You're just jealous, honey. I got one and you don't.” He leaned against the rock. “Doesn't move.”

“Honey, you never could make the earth move. Now me, baby cakes, I can make it shake, rattle, and roll.” She patted her hips, or more precisely, the satchel of explosives hanging there. “Move out of my way, boy, and I'll show you how a woman does it.”

“Hold your horses, Roz,” the sergeant put in as he joined them. “We got ambulances on the field. Nobody blows nothing while we're under the red crescent.”

“Course, Roz, if you got your heart set on blowing something, I'm available.”

“Go blow yourself, before I use some C-20 to do it for you. Sergeant, somebody's had us under observation since we started. That somebody's caused us a lot of grief. If that somebody's behind this rock, I want his ass.”

“Okay, Roz, I'll call it up, but close that satchel. Nobody does nothin' til I get the word. Understood?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” three privates echoed like four-year-olds.

* * * *

Mary waited for the door to blow in, crush her under its stony weight. “Mary,” Cassie's voice whispered in her helmet, “you've been off net for a long time. You okay?”

“Yes,” Mary sniffled. “No problem here.”

“Doesn't sound like no problem to me.”

“Okay, you want a problem. How do you blow your nose in one of these damn ape suits?”

“You got me. Don't think they made them with crying in mind. Want me to ask the lieutenant?”

“For God's sake, no!”

“Want to talk about it, Mary?”

She sniffed hard, trying to get control of all the drips. Then she sneezed, splattering phlegm all over the inside of her faceplate. Most of it ran down in thin streaks. The faceplate was supposed to be streak-free. It almost was. The suit already stank of fear and sweat.

“I just killed a lot of people,” Mary finally said.

“So? That's what they sent us here to do.”

“No,
I just killed a lot of people.
I saw them. Lying out there burning.”

“I know,” Cassie whispered. “I saw the vid, too.”

“But I'm the one that killed them.”

“Yeah, I know. You laid out the sensors all by yourself. Emplaced the rockets, programmed them. Did it all yourself. Good going, girl.”