David Drake - The Forlorn Hope

They were close enough to the truck now that the press of troops standing around it hid more of the vehicle than the foliage did. The stream down the middle of the valley could be heard just beyond. "Well," said Churchie Dwyer, "there might at least be some booze in there, right? Only fair, after this goddam hike that we ride back-"

And then, with reflexes that not even the thought of liquor had dulled, Dwyer was clearing his weapon.

"Well, nothing structurally wrong," Lieutenant Waldstejn said. The drive fans rotated freely under the impulse of Sergeant Mboko's hand.

The convoy had been reversing manually in the dark, and one of the vehicles had managed to slip its skirt over the skirt of the next ahead. Because the branch to 4B had less than half the available power of the main line, the fans had not responded as the driver had expected when he tried to correct the tilt. The whole business had demonstrated an ineptitude striking even for the Transport Service.

Now, though, as dusk blurred the far slope to | gray suede, there was a chance that the accident would save everybody in the Smiricky garrison who deserved saving.

"What's it loaded with?" asked Lieutenantben Mehdi. The voices of troopers echoed from the j back of the vehicle.

"Hey, everybody out!" ben Mehdi added. "I don't j want people screwing around when it may be stuff | we need. Bastien-" he waved to a Leading Trooper in Mboko's section- "get your team together and start off-loading the cargo."

"It was all supplies for the Complex, so I wasn't i really concerned," said Waldstejn, walking toward\ the back himself. Sergeant Jensen had gone off to find a cable to right the truck. The other three mercenary leaders appeared to drift with him. "From the codes on the manifest, it wasn't food,^; ^ dammit. Probably drill bits for-"

"Jesus Christ, watch that!" screamed Sergeant Hummel as two soldiers swung a case from the truck to the ground. "That's explosives!"

The packing case was banded with gray plastic, iIt hung from the fingertips of the men who had just released it. All their efforts could do was to drag them after the case. It hit the ground with a thump and a spurt of dust. There was dead silence around the vehicle.

"Well," said Lieutenant Waldstejn testily, "I don't know what the problem is. They weren't going to pack detonators in with the explosives, after all." Tense faces loosened as the Cecach officer stepped to the case and rubbed grit from its warning label with his open palm.

Johanna Hummel looked a little embarrassed also. Without hesitation, however, she said, "Lieutenant, I've been places where they tried to stabilize nitrogylcerin with mica. When I saw the red star-" she nodded at the label-"I didn't wait around."

"Well, on Cecach we use plastic explosives," Waldstejn retorted defensively. "We're civilized, even if we don't have all the high tech electronics-" He stopped and turned back to Hummel. "Forgive me, Sergeant," he said. "You were obviously right. And if we're civilized, then the way we've treated you and the Company gives little enough proof of it."

"Well, we still need to get it the hell out of the truck, don't we?" remarked Sergeant Mboko. "It's going to be a bitch to right anyway." In a louder voice he ordered, "Carry on, Bastien, but make a chain, will you? Don't just toss the stuff around like so many sand bags."

"Ah, Sergeant Hummel," Waldstejn said, "startyour troops cutting brush on the far side of the truck." The Cecach officer forced himself to face Hummel. He felt awkward about giving orders to any of the mercenaries, but it had to be done-for all their sakes. Hussein ben Mehdi and the two male sergeants made it easy with an acceptance that met him more than half way.

Jo Hummel made nothing easy. Herattitude was a challenge, while her sex-and her apparent sexual preference-aggravated Waldstejn's discomfort. Now she said, "Look, Lieutenant, I hope to God you don't think you can turn this low crap-" she waved a hand- "into levers to help pry the truck up with. Mysection's tired. Sincethere's no straight branches as long as your dick, I don't see-"

"I believe, Sergeant," Waldstejn interrupted, grasping the nettle, "that we can wedge a mat of brush under the side as soon as we get it off the ground. That way if the cable slips, we don't start over from the beginning. Now, if you'll give that order, I want to talk with you in private." He jerked a thumb to the side, away from the vehicle and the troops around it.

Hummel pursed her lips. Beside her, Trooper Powers squatted on the ground. She had taken off her helmet and was kneading her temples wearily through her bright blond hair. "Yes sir," Hummel said. She raised a finger to key the radio.

The reconnaissance drone, jinking around brush scarcely three meters above the ground, sailed over them like the first of the shells it surely presaged.

Trooper Herzenberg's light-wand trembled, throwing the shadow of the mine elevator over the far wall in a quivering circle. She was exhausted with the long march. Sight of the cable they had been sent for brought no elation, only a shudder at the new job it presented. "Guns," she called, "here's one that's still up. Want me to climb out and cut loose the cage?"

There were three shafts at the pit head for reasons which no one in Jensen's section could fathom. All three were covered by a single high, sheet-metal building over fifty meters long. Two of the elevator cages were at or near the bottom of their shafts. The third, which Herzenberg had been sent to check, had a winding drum full of cable. The newly-recruited trooper still found the difficulties attending the mass of braided steel to be insoluble.

Guiterez strolled over to her before Sergeant Jensen himself arrived. The big building was un-lighted except for what entered through rust holes and the pairs of windows high in either roof gable. To eyes adapted to the daylight outside, the small patches of brightness were more dazzling than useful. Guiterez took the dim light as an invitation to lay his hand on Herzenberg's solid hip. The gesture was more of a caress than a pat. The female trooper was almost too tired to bat him away, but she twisted and the butt of her slung weapon cracked Guiterez across the knuckles.

"Hell, honey," said the veteran, ignoring the rebuff, "you don't need to risk that sweet little ass of yours." He knelt, resting his gun barrel on the shaft railing.

"Hold up, Tilly," Jensen replied on the radio. "I'll take a look at it." The whisper of his words followed their radio shadow through the air of the big room.

Guiterez flipped the holographic sight picture up to full magnification. The braided elevator cable shimmered at an apparent fifteen centimeters from his right pupil. Four orange lines rayed from the center. The greatest advantage of the electronic sight over an optical one was that there was no tube for heavy recoil to slam against the shooter's brow ridge.

The cable quivered across the field of view despite Guiterez' attempts to steady it. The picture slowed as he took a deep breath.

"Look," Herzenberg said, "Guns says-"

The shot blasted. There was a momentary fluorescent tremble of sabot material and a flash from the cable. The needle-slim projectile was far too small to sever a one-centimeter cable. Instead, it drilled a neat hole which made no significant difference in the strength of the multiple, redundant strands.

"Goddamn it, Dog," one of the approaching crewmen shouted, "will you stop clowning around?"

"Well, I thought-" Guiterez said, standing up sheepishly. He lowered his weapon and massaged his shoulder.

"If you'd thought," said Sergeant Jensen harshly, "you'd have known we could do without the last-" he eyed the angle of cable from the take-up drum, through the support pulley, and down again to the elevator itself- "four meters with what there is on the drum." The tall section leader reached up with his cutting bar. He positioned it carefully on the highest part of the cable he could reach with his hip supported by the guard rail. Then he slashed downward and parted the cable with a single stroke. The short end of the cable flew up with a twang of released tension. The cage dropped a centimeter or so before its automatic braking system locked it to the guide rails with a horrible scrunch.