came from Lieutenant Stubben, “but we are taking fire.”
“Second platoon the same,” followed him in only a second.
“Permission to return fire,” Lieutenant Stubben said.
Kris got her head up for a quick look around. Jack put her head back down, then snapped off a stream of choice words as his elbow took a hit. The spider-silk bodysuit kept the bullet from doing major damage. It didn’t keep it from stinging to beat all hell.
Somewhere to the right, a Marine wasn’t so lucky. The shout of “Medic. Medic!” came down the line.
Kris didn’t want a fight. She didn’t want to conquer this planet. If she did, she was letting herself in for all kinds of headaches.
To her left, a medic bent low as she trotted down the line to where her duty called. A bullet hit her battle armor and knocked her down. She got up and kept trotting.
Kris drew in a deep breath. “Captain, put an end to this slaughter.”
“Yes, ma’am. Platoon leaders, put down anyone shooting at us or unarmed civilians.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” came back in a second, followed by orders.
A moment later, the racket of small-arms fire was punctuated by one sharp volley as Marines entered the battle.
There was a hiccup of silence as the realization dawned on the other side that this wasn’t a one-sided turkey shoot . . . anymore.
Then the orchestra of sundry weapons went back to making racket: revolvers and automatics, long rifles and automatic pistols, assault rifles and submachine guns.
“Fire at will,” came over the net from two Marine lieutenants, and the unique staccato of the M-6s joined the symphony like the roll of a snare drum.
Kris listened to the sound of the bullets whizzing by. Most seemed well above her. “These guys are shooting high.”
“Easy to do with a machine pistol,” Jack said. “But they could get lucky. How much luck do you think you got left, Your Highness?” he said, pushing her head back down. “You really should think about the chance that there’s a bottom to that pot of gold.”
“I’ll just rob another rainbow,” Kris muttered as she tried to crawl away from Jack. He crawled right along with her, keeping his back between her and the hostile fire . . . and his arm ready to push her face back into the dirt. He seemed to like rubbing her face in the fine yellow dust of the road.
Marine fire was getting more sporadic. Other shots were getting downright rare.
“What do you say we get up and look around?” Kris said.
Jack rolled over and did his own look-see at the wreckage. Apparently it was quiet enough for him to stand up and dust himself off.
Kris rolled to her feet. Across the field from her, the truck with the boss guy riding it was backing up, turning around, and heading back to town.
Kris didn’t want that.
“Jack, could a Marine please flatten the tires on that truck.”
Jack gave the order, but the truck not only gunned away from them, but the guy in charge was smart enough to toss a string of smoke grenades to give himself cover.
Marine fire didn’t slow him down.
“I really don’t want that guy getting back to town,” Kris said.
“Grenadier,” Lieutenant Stubben shouted, and a Marine raised his rocket launcher and fired off three quick rounds.
The first rocket missed ahead, but the other two walked themselves down the road to where the truck was busy racing up to meet them. The resulting collision left only small pieces of truck and body parts flying through the air.
Kris shook her head. “I had a few questions I wanted to ask that joker, but I suppose they can wait.” She stooped to dust herself off; her whites now looked more like khakis.
But her eyes swept the battlefield before her, and the butcher’s bill stopped her where she stood.
7
A shout of “Medic!” came from second platoon. A Marine with the Red Cross pack was there in seconds, but she was shaking her head before she knelt.
The Marine had taken a slug right between her eyes.
Not all the fire
“Second platoon the same,” followed him in only a second.
“Permission to return fire,” Lieutenant Stubben said.
Kris got her head up for a quick look around. Jack put her head back down, then snapped off a stream of choice words as his elbow took a hit. The spider-silk bodysuit kept the bullet from doing major damage. It didn’t keep it from stinging to beat all hell.
Somewhere to the right, a Marine wasn’t so lucky. The shout of “Medic. Medic!” came down the line.
Kris didn’t want a fight. She didn’t want to conquer this planet. If she did, she was letting herself in for all kinds of headaches.
To her left, a medic bent low as she trotted down the line to where her duty called. A bullet hit her battle armor and knocked her down. She got up and kept trotting.
Kris drew in a deep breath. “Captain, put an end to this slaughter.”
“Yes, ma’am. Platoon leaders, put down anyone shooting at us or unarmed civilians.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” came back in a second, followed by orders.
A moment later, the racket of small-arms fire was punctuated by one sharp volley as Marines entered the battle.
There was a hiccup of silence as the realization dawned on the other side that this wasn’t a one-sided turkey shoot . . . anymore.
Then the orchestra of sundry weapons went back to making racket: revolvers and automatics, long rifles and automatic pistols, assault rifles and submachine guns.
“Fire at will,” came over the net from two Marine lieutenants, and the unique staccato of the M-6s joined the symphony like the roll of a snare drum.
Kris listened to the sound of the bullets whizzing by. Most seemed well above her. “These guys are shooting high.”
“Easy to do with a machine pistol,” Jack said. “But they could get lucky. How much luck do you think you got left, Your Highness?” he said, pushing her head back down. “You really should think about the chance that there’s a bottom to that pot of gold.”
“I’ll just rob another rainbow,” Kris muttered as she tried to crawl away from Jack. He crawled right along with her, keeping his back between her and the hostile fire . . . and his arm ready to push her face back into the dirt. He seemed to like rubbing her face in the fine yellow dust of the road.
Marine fire was getting more sporadic. Other shots were getting downright rare.
“What do you say we get up and look around?” Kris said.
Jack rolled over and did his own look-see at the wreckage. Apparently it was quiet enough for him to stand up and dust himself off.
Kris rolled to her feet. Across the field from her, the truck with the boss guy riding it was backing up, turning around, and heading back to town.
Kris didn’t want that.
“Jack, could a Marine please flatten the tires on that truck.”
Jack gave the order, but the truck not only gunned away from them, but the guy in charge was smart enough to toss a string of smoke grenades to give himself cover.
Marine fire didn’t slow him down.
“I really don’t want that guy getting back to town,” Kris said.
“Grenadier,” Lieutenant Stubben shouted, and a Marine raised his rocket launcher and fired off three quick rounds.
The first rocket missed ahead, but the other two walked themselves down the road to where the truck was busy racing up to meet them. The resulting collision left only small pieces of truck and body parts flying through the air.
Kris shook her head. “I had a few questions I wanted to ask that joker, but I suppose they can wait.” She stooped to dust herself off; her whites now looked more like khakis.
But her eyes swept the battlefield before her, and the butcher’s bill stopped her where she stood.
7
A shout of “Medic!” came from second platoon. A Marine with the Red Cross pack was there in seconds, but she was shaking her head before she knelt.
The Marine had taken a slug right between her eyes.
Not all the fire
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