doggie, he’s probably not smart enough to make the connection between what I show him and our midnight requisitions.”
Sergeant Kindy shook his head. “One of these days, boss, you’re going to say something like that where some doggie brass will overhear you. Then your sweet ass will be grass.”
Corporal Nomonon poked him on the shoulder. “How do you know his ass is sweet, you two been doing something Mother Corps might object to?”
Kindy blushed and jabbed Nomonon back. “Shut your face. I’d go for Bella Dwan before I did that.”
Nomonon shook his head. “Man, you must have one powerful death wish.” He turned to Daly. “Boss, do we gotta take him on this op? He wants to go for Bella, he could blow the whole op and get us all killed.”
Daly looked at the two as though he was considering whether or not to take Kindy along. Then he said,
“Tell you what. Instead of me doing it by myself, we’ll all show Lieutenant Colonel Kevelys that we have capabilities his troops don’t.”
“So what do we do?”
Headquarters, 104th Mobile Infantry Division, Confederation Army, Silvasian Peacekeeping Mission
The corner of Lieutenant Colonel Kevelys’s mouth twitched in annoyance when an unexpected waft of air stirred a strand of hair that had dropped onto his forehead. He looked up, ready to snap at whoever opened his office door without knocking, but bit off what he’d been about to say when nobody was there and the door was closed.
He returned to the intel analysis he’d been studying. The enemy HQ had moved again, but not before killing the six-man recon team that had found it and reported its position. In order to preserve his remaining reconmen, he was teaming them up, one reconman with five legs—regular infantry—for the search and locate missions. The success rate of the combined patrols in finding the enemy headquarters was nearly as good as the success rate of the pure recon patrols. Their failure rate in fixing the enemy’s location until a reaction team could reach them was just as abysmal. He looked up faster at another vagrant air movement. Again, nobody was there—but had he seen his door easing closed the last centimeter?
Moving only his eyes, he examined his office, looking into each shadow, at the sides of everything someone might conceivably be behind. He saw no one, nothing out of place. He gave his head a sharp shake. This mission must be getting to him. He’d never before been on an operation where a division’s reconnaissance battalion failed so consistently in its primary mission, or suffered so many casualties. If only, if only—
Maybe General Fitzter was right, maybe when those Force Recon Marines showed up and got killed it would change their luck. But where were the Marines? Their ship was in orbit, they should have reported in by now.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded out loud as air brushed across his brow again. Had the door frame come loose, was there some loose paneling around it?
He got up from his desk, stomped to the door, and rattled it. It felt as solidly secure as ever. He opened the door and looked into the outer office. His analysts and communications people were all at their stations. He strode beyond them to the open outer door and stepped into the corridor. Nobody was in sight in either direction, so unless someone had cracked his door open and shut, then immediately jumped back to his station, nobody was playing a bad joke on him. He looked at the assistant G2, who seemed too preoccupied with what she was doing to notice if somebody had. He shook his head. It was the operation, it had to be. He stepped back into his office and eased the door closed, then jumped as a voice behind him, from near his desk, said, “Sir, Sergeant Daly, Fourth Force Reconnaissance Company, reporting as ordered.”
Kevelys spun about and croaked out something incoherent. A disembodied head floated in the air in front of his desk. His eyes shot left and right.
Sergeant Kindy shook his head. “One of these days, boss, you’re going to say something like that where some doggie brass will overhear you. Then your sweet ass will be grass.”
Corporal Nomonon poked him on the shoulder. “How do you know his ass is sweet, you two been doing something Mother Corps might object to?”
Kindy blushed and jabbed Nomonon back. “Shut your face. I’d go for Bella Dwan before I did that.”
Nomonon shook his head. “Man, you must have one powerful death wish.” He turned to Daly. “Boss, do we gotta take him on this op? He wants to go for Bella, he could blow the whole op and get us all killed.”
Daly looked at the two as though he was considering whether or not to take Kindy along. Then he said,
“Tell you what. Instead of me doing it by myself, we’ll all show Lieutenant Colonel Kevelys that we have capabilities his troops don’t.”
“So what do we do?”
Headquarters, 104th Mobile Infantry Division, Confederation Army, Silvasian Peacekeeping Mission
The corner of Lieutenant Colonel Kevelys’s mouth twitched in annoyance when an unexpected waft of air stirred a strand of hair that had dropped onto his forehead. He looked up, ready to snap at whoever opened his office door without knocking, but bit off what he’d been about to say when nobody was there and the door was closed.
He returned to the intel analysis he’d been studying. The enemy HQ had moved again, but not before killing the six-man recon team that had found it and reported its position. In order to preserve his remaining reconmen, he was teaming them up, one reconman with five legs—regular infantry—for the search and locate missions. The success rate of the combined patrols in finding the enemy headquarters was nearly as good as the success rate of the pure recon patrols. Their failure rate in fixing the enemy’s location until a reaction team could reach them was just as abysmal. He looked up faster at another vagrant air movement. Again, nobody was there—but had he seen his door easing closed the last centimeter?
Moving only his eyes, he examined his office, looking into each shadow, at the sides of everything someone might conceivably be behind. He saw no one, nothing out of place. He gave his head a sharp shake. This mission must be getting to him. He’d never before been on an operation where a division’s reconnaissance battalion failed so consistently in its primary mission, or suffered so many casualties. If only, if only—
Maybe General Fitzter was right, maybe when those Force Recon Marines showed up and got killed it would change their luck. But where were the Marines? Their ship was in orbit, they should have reported in by now.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded out loud as air brushed across his brow again. Had the door frame come loose, was there some loose paneling around it?
He got up from his desk, stomped to the door, and rattled it. It felt as solidly secure as ever. He opened the door and looked into the outer office. His analysts and communications people were all at their stations. He strode beyond them to the open outer door and stepped into the corridor. Nobody was in sight in either direction, so unless someone had cracked his door open and shut, then immediately jumped back to his station, nobody was playing a bad joke on him. He looked at the assistant G2, who seemed too preoccupied with what she was doing to notice if somebody had. He shook his head. It was the operation, it had to be. He stepped back into his office and eased the door closed, then jumped as a voice behind him, from near his desk, said, “Sir, Sergeant Daly, Fourth Force Reconnaissance Company, reporting as ordered.”
Kevelys spun about and croaked out something incoherent. A disembodied head floated in the air in front of his desk. His eyes shot left and right.
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