Side Show by Rick Shelley Page B

captured. Few, if any, managed to escape. In the other two columns, the results were mixed. A few tanks, and perhaps two-thirds of the infantry, were able to disengage, though the infantry was now all on foot.
    Lieutenant Keye was still trying to get his breathing back to normal. He could feel that his face was flushed. His lungs were pumping hard. He stood looking at the forty prisoners that Echo had captured.
    The Heggies had been herded together, stripped of weapons, ammunition, helmets, uniforms, and boots. The weapons and ammunition were being loaded aboard several of the Heyer APCs. An extra reserve, just in case: that was one lesson the 13th had learned on Porter. The helmets were taken and (except for two that Intelligence wanted) destroyed to keep these Heggies out of communication with their army. The boots and uniforms were also destroyed, to make the Heggie mudders too vulnerable to have any real thoughts of following and making more difficulty. No uniforms meant no body armor. No boots meant a slower, and more uncomfortable, trip back to their lines. The 13th was not equipped to carry enemy prisoners with it.
    The Schlinal wounded were treated alongside the 13th's own casualties. There were a couple of Schlinal medics in the group of prisoners. They were able to cope with their own.
    "I've got our count, Lieutenant," Sauv Degtree reported.
    Keye blinked and sucked in a deep breath before he said, "Let me have it."
    "Three dead." He listed the names. Two were from fourth squad, the other from his own, third. Keye closed his eyes while he listened to the roster. "Six wounded, only one bad enough to need time in a trauma tube. Doc Eddies is taking care of him now." Again, Degtree listed the names. Again, Keye closed his eyes.
    "Where's the Bear?" Keye asked.
    Degtree pointed. "They've already taken him back. He's probably sitting in the Heyer by now."
    "His shoulder?"
    "Bergon said it wasn't near as bad as it might have been. Bone chips but no fracture. Fair amount of bleeding. Doc may have to dig out the chips if a soaker doesn't work them out." That depended, mostly, on how large the fragments were. If they were too big, the medical nanobots wouldn't be able to transport the fragments to the surface quickly enough and minor surgery would be required.
    "The reccers will guard the prisoners until we move out," Keye said, relaying word he was just getting from Major Parks. "Let's get everybody back. Time to hit the trail again."
    —|—
    Al Bergon had tried to get Joe Baerclau to lie still and let himself be carried to the APC, but the Bear had refused. Once there was a soaker on his wounded shoulder and the analgesic had started to work, he insisted on walking.
    "Save the litter for someone who needs it," he said.
    "You've lost blood, Sarge," Al protested. "There's always shock with this kind of wound. Give the soaker time to do its job."
    "I'm not crippled. I've been hurt worse than this before. And don't go trying to hit me with a knockout patch either. That's an order."
    Al bit back a reply. The order was not valid. As medic, he could slap the patch on anyway. But he would also have to put up with an angry sergeant after it wore off. Al looked closely at Baerclau's face, checking pupil dilation and how well the Bear's eyes tracked his finger.
    "Okay, we'll chance it," he said after stalling for as long as he dared. "But, so help me, Sarge, one hint of swaying or anything else, and down you go, regardless."
    Baerclau glowered at Al but didn't speak. He simply put his helmet back on, picked up his rifle, and gestured in the direction of the APCs. Al and the rest of first squad started moving off with him.
    I have been hurt worse than this, Joe told himself. But that one time, he hadn't walked away under his own power. It had been thirty-six hours before he had done any walking. This was the first time in months that Joe had even thought about that earlier wound. There weren't even any scars to remind him. Medical