Part 19 (1/2)

”The speed of their advance gives us a major advantage,” Ba.s.s said, ignoring the remarks. ”When a fast-moving object runs into a bigger object moving even faster, it rebounds. Basic physics. We're going here,” he sent a signal that made his symbols and routes pulse on the squad leaders' HUDs, ”and smack them back so hard they're liable to find themselves back on the surface before they stop rebounding.”

The section of schematic the squad leaders examined showed two major corridors. A five-meter-wide corridor made many turns on its inbound journey from the outer tunnel ring; strongpoints had been erected at each turning. The Coalition battalion was advancing along that tunnel. The other major corridor, seven meters wide, that formed an irregular ring inside the outer perimeter, crossed it. Two smaller corridors paralleled the inbound corridor and terminated at the ring-tunnel, only fifty meters to the sides of the intersection. Rooms filled the s.p.a.ces between the inbound and parallel corridors. There weren't any strongpoints noted on the ring or the smaller tunnels.

The routes and symbols Ba.s.s had overlaid on the schematic directed one gun team to set up at a turning of the inbound tunnel where it could fire straight down it past the ring-tunnel. The other gun team went down the left-hand parallel corridor to set up a crossfire along the ring-tunnel. First squad was to set up inside the rooms to the right of the inbound tunnel, and second squad in the rooms to its left. According to still 2-D images Ba.s.s had of the tunnel, the rooms had doors into the inbound tunnel that would allow his Marines to fire down the tunnel while retaining a fair amount of cover.

But, as was often the case, the Marines' best protection from enemy fire was the virtual invisibility provided by their chameleon uniforms. The symbols Ba.s.s drew showing where fire teams and the gun teams went didn't indicate which teams went where. He left those decisions up to the squad leaders.

”Any questions?” he asked when he thought the squad leaders had enough time to examine the schematic. ”How many did you say were coming this way?” Kelly asked.

”An understrength battalion.” No one said anything for a moment, then Ratliff softly said, ”They're in a tunnel. They won't be able to advance more than two fire teams at a time. Hound, one one of your guns could hold them up until they ran out of men-or your gun ran out of power.” of your guns could hold them up until they ran out of men-or your gun ran out of power.”

”Barring lucky hits,” Staff Sergeant Hyakowa said, speaking for the first time.

”These tunnel walls are pretty rough cut,” Ba.s.s added, ”there aren't any polished surfaces for lasers to reflect off of.” Kelly glanced at him, then looked at the other two squad leaders. ”I'm putting Barber's gun there. You just worry about keeping your people's heads out of his line of fire.” Ba.s.s c.o.c.ked his head, the sounds of fighting were much closer. ”Let's do this thing,” he said, and snapped his chameleon screen into place. His face vanished.

The sound of pounding footsteps and yells made Lance Corporal Tischler, behind the gun pointed down the inbound tunnel, tense. Next to him, PFC Yi got ready to feed the gun. The whine of laser shots punctuated the noises.

”Easy, easy,” Corporal Barber said. ”Don't fire until I say to.” Listening to the laser fire, he was glad of the lack of reflective surfaces in the tunnel.

The yells, out of sight beyond the bend past the cross tunnel, grew louder, and individual voices became discernible; many of them were screaming.

”Wait for my order.” The calmness of Barber's voice didn't show the tenseness he felt.

Suddenly, a running man burst into sight at the bend, seventy-five meters distant.

”Hold it, hold it,” Barber murmured.

Tischler's grip tightened on the gun's firing lever.

”Don't shoot! Hold your fire!” Barber said sharply as more running, screaming men turned the bend. ”They're ours.”

Ensign Ba.s.s's voice giving the same command almost drowned Barber out in the helmet radios of first gun team.

Soldiers of the 27th Division, more than half of them weaponless, pelted wide-eyed along the tunnel, fleeing the advancing Coalition rebels. Some of the running soldiers turned right or left onto the ring-tunnel, but most kept going straight.

”Buddha's b.a.l.l.s!” Barber swore-the soldiers were coming straight at his team, and they couldn't see the Marines in their chameleons. ”Get out of their way!” He shoved Tischler to his left, to the inside of the bend. The gun fell over with a clatter because Tischler was caught off guard by Barber's shove. Yi

barely made it to the wall behind the gunner before the other hit the wall.

Barber swore again and reached for the gun to yank it in close. He wasn't fast enough. The first soldier to reach the bend banked hard off the wall on the outside of the bend, but the second soldier skittered to slow down to take the corner and tripped over the gun, knocking it away from Barber's reaching hand. The third soldier tripped over the spinning weapon and sprawled onto the second. In seconds, an entire squad's worth of soldiers had tripped on the gun, soldiers who had fallen before them, or over Barber, who was trying desparately to get the gun out of the way-one of them kicked Barber's head hard enough to partly dislodge his helmet, dazing him.

None of the soldiers seemed aware of the Marines; they scrambled to their feet as fast as they could and took off again. The last of them almost didn't make it-a laser beam bored through the lower part of the soldier's left calf. He didn't seem to notice the injury.

Other soldiers sped through, but there were fewer of them now, and they were more widely s.p.a.ced. Barber finally got hold of the gun and pa.s.sed it to Tischler. Then he scooted forward on his belly to look around the corner.

The bodies of several soldiers littered the tunnel floor; some of the bodies were still moving, and one or two of them were weakly crawling toward the corner where the Marine gun team waited. There was nothing Barber could do for them-maybe the blastermen in the rooms along the corridor could drag them to safety-he had to deal with what he saw beyond the casualties.

Rebel soldiers were advancing along the sides of the tunnel. One man would dash forward, then drop to a p.r.o.ne position with his weapon pointed forward, and another would rise up behind him and dash forward. The enemy soldiers leap-frogged like that on both sides, visible in the middle of the tunnel only at the far end where, one by one, half of them darted across to the opposite wall. The closest of them were almost at the intersection.

”Tischler, get your gun set up next to the corner,” he ordered, urgency in his tone. ”Fire a burst straight down the wall, then spray the opposite wall beyond the intersection.” He could tell by the sounds that Tischler already had the gun back on its tripod and when it was in position.

”What about our people?” Tischler asked.

”Don't worry, they're inside the rooms,” Barber said. He shook his head trying to clear it.

”Whatever you say,” Tischler replied, and fired a short burst of plasma pulses along the wall.

The invisibility conferred by the chameleons was an optical illusion; Barber couldn't see through through his gunner and the gun, he had to scoot farther out in order to see to direct the gun's fire. his gunner and the gun, he had to scoot farther out in order to see to direct the gun's fire.

It looked like the first, short burst had taken out or knocked down every rebel soldier along the near wall, though more were coming around the far bend and returning fire. Barber watched as Tischler s.h.i.+fted his aim to the other side of the tunnel, spraying up and down to get the soldiers who lay p.r.o.ne as well as those who jumped up to dart forward. He got most of them before they reached the cross tunnel and turned into it. Barber didn't worry about them, Corporal Taylor's second gun team was in position to take them out. As though in answer to Barber's thought, plasma started streaming across his sight from the other gun.

The living rebels still in the tunnel all went p.r.o.ne and spread out to return fire. They may not have been able to see the Marines, but they could see where the plasma bolts were coming from and concentrated their fire on the gun.

”Back!” Barber ordered, scooting backward himself. ”Get-” and caught a flash of the most brilliant light he'd ever seen.

If your head's in the line of sight of a laser shot, the beam doesn't need to bounce off a reflective surface to hit you.

Corporal Pasquin had to wonder if he'd made a mistake, leaving the BAS when Staff Sergeant Hyakowa showed up to get any of third platoon's casualties who were ready to return to duty. There'd hardly been enough time for any of the wounds on his back, b.u.t.tocks, and thighs to begin to heal, and he felt every one of them trying to reopen during the ride to the blocking position in the tunnel, and then the run to the positions where third platoon would stop the invading Coalition troops. But he thought of the alternative, leaving the squad three men short, and told himself he could always go back to the battalion aid station after the fight if he needed to. The bigger problem at the moment was that he and both of his men would have to fire through the same doorway when the bad guys came.

”Shoup, can you fire okay p.r.o.ne?”

”Not a problem, honcho,” PFC Shoup replied. Pasquin's infra showed his junior man lying with his head in the doorway and only his left arm and shoulder completely out of it.

”Longfellow, kneel to his left so you can fire over him.”

”Got it.”

That left the off hand-standing-position for Pasquin. It was a triply awkward position for him to take. He had to straddle Longfellow in order to get close enough to the doorway to lean the back of his left shoulder into it, which had the corner of the doorframe in nearly direct contact with one of his wounds. He winced, but held position. Worse than the pain was the fact that he'd have to fire left-handed. Like all infantry Marines, he had significant practice firing from all positions, and had used all of them in combat. He knew that left-handed off hand was his weakest shooting position. But there was no remedy for it; that was the way he had to fire, any other position possible in his fire team's position would aggravate his injuries even worse than this did.

”Hold your fire,” he said, as the broken defenders began running around the corner he could barely see from his angle. ”Wait for my command. Remember to keep your fire high enough you don't risk hitting Dorny or Gray.” First fire team was in the next room closer to the intersection. ”When I tell you, shoot through the crossing pa.s.sageway, do not not try to ricochet your shots off the opposite wall. Remember, second squad's over there, let's not shoot our own people.” try to ricochet your shots off the opposite wall. Remember, second squad's over there, let's not shoot our own people.”

Then the gun opened fire behind them, sending a stream of plasma bolts down the wide corridor. Flashes of laser beams shot past in the opposite direction. Pasquin leaned out farther. His shoulder wound opened and began to ooze blood. He ignored the pain; he could see the enemy.

”Fire!” he commanded, and his fire team opened up on the enemy.

”What do you want to do, Hammer?” Corporal Claypoole asked when second squad took position in rooms on the other side of the broad corridor from first squad.

Schultz raised his helmet screens and spat. Lowering them, he growled, ”Kill.”

”Ask a stupid question . . .” Claypoole muttered. He looked at the doorway and wondered how he could bring his fire team's full power to bear on the enemy without exposing them too much-the doorway was less than a meter and a half wide, and three of them had to fit in it. He couldn't remember another time when he'd had to fire jammed that tightly together with other Marines.