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“I’ll try,” the driver said, putting the tank in reverse with a glance at the map. “But I don’t see a good spot.”

“Well, keep loo — ” Mitchell flinched as a massive boom echoed through the gun. “What the hell?”

“Posties close!” Pruitt called as more bangs and booms echoed through the hull. “Left side front. A full company. I don’t know where they came from.”

“Back us up, Reeve!”

“Hang on, Colonel,” Kilzer said, touching a button. Another boom, much more massive than the first, shook the hull. “Problem solved.”

“Holy shit!” Pruitt said, looking at the monitor. Mostly what could be seen was dust. But what was visible of the Posleen company looked like someone had pounded it with a giant meat mallet. “What in the hell was that?”

“Claymore,” Kilzer replied. “There’s two on the front, two on the back and three on each side. It’s got six shots.”

“Cool.”

“That’s still not going to keep us alive down there,” Mitchell replied.

“Sir, I’ve got an idea,” Reeves said, stopping the tank and spinning it in place.

“Ouch,” Pruitt said with a laugh. “Did it hurt?”

“Fuck you, Pru,” the driver, who was not noted for his intelligence, replied. He locked one track then threw the other into full drive, spinning up a roostertail of dirt and rocking the seven-thousand-ton gun sideways down the hill.

“Ah, I know what you’re doing,” Kilzer said with a grin. “Watch it, though. You can get yourself stuck as hell.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Mitchell said in a bemused voice. “What are you doing?”

“He’s trying to dig in a fighting position,” Kilzer explained for the driver, who was repositioning the tank. “Dig out the upper side of the position by spinning the track in place.”

And it appeared to be working. The friable stone of the hillside was shattering under the weight and power of the SheVa’s tracks and with each spin the upper side of the SheVa sank lower. After a moment Reeves spun the monstrous vehicle in place and moved some of the dirt over to create a wider spot, then went back to work.

“Colonel, this is Chan,” the MetalStorm commander called. “We’ve got another group of leakers coming in along the eastern edge of the ridge. The infantry has reconsolidated on the far hill and is engaging them at long range, but they seem to be planning on closing with us. And they’re under my angle of fire.”

“Let them close,” Mitchell replied. “Mr. Kilzer will be waiting for them.”

“Yes, sir,” the major replied in a puzzled tone.

“I’ll explain later,” Mitchell said. “How’s it looking from your angle?”

“Smelly,” the major replied. “Glenn just threw up all over the compartment.”

“How’s the angle of fire,” Mitchell replied with a grimace. Being on top of the SheVa when it went through these gyrations would not be fun.

“Well if Reeves is looking for an excuse to stop putting us through this, I’ll give him one. We can see to fire and most of the turret is hull-down.”

“Okay, Reeves, get a good position and hold it,” the colonel said. “Major Chan, concentrate fire on the zone from directly in front of us to the road. We want to keep them off of us but also open up a situation where the infantry can stage a breakout.” They still had monitors where they could see the valley and he shook his head. “Although I think that we might be being optimistic about that one.”

“What do you want me to do?” Pruitt asked.

“Get up to the crane and start hauling out MetalStorm packs,” Mitchell replied. “I think we’re going to need them.”

“I’m going to go survey the damage we took from those hits,” Indy said, unsnapping and standing up to follow the gunner. “I didn’t like the feel of that last engagement.”

“Don’t go out and kick the tracks,” Mitchell said. “I don’t know when we’re going to move.”

He went back to watching the monitors and after a few minutes nodded his head. The antimatter “area denial” rounds they had fired up the road had to have wiped out a good collection of what would be reinforcements for the forces in the valley. And the combination of artillery, which was now shifting out into the main mass, and the MetalStorm fire was now opening up patches of ground. The Posleen looked unlimited, but they weren’t. And the heavy firepower that was now pounding the valley was whittling them away. And doing so rather fast, all things considered. He glanced at his watch and realized that it had been less than fifteen minutes since they had left the hilltop opposite; it seemed like hours. Somewhere to the south, the ACS was getting ready to retake the Gap. Somewhere near Knoxville a true hell-weapon was about to fire. But there was only one and for the ACS to survive, and the plug in the Gap to be maintained, it was necessary to clear out this plug of Posleen and drive on with the mission. Fifteen minutes was starting to sound like a long time.

“Ask me for anything but time.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Clarkesville, GA, United States of America, Sol III

1905 EDT Monday September 28, 2009 AD

Now, first of the foemen of Boh Da Thone Was Captain O’Neil of the “Black Tyrone,” And his was a Company, seventy strong, Who hustled that dissolute Chief along.
There were lads from Galway and Louth and Meath Who went to their death with a joke in their teeth, And worshipped with fluency, fervour, and zeal The mud on the boot-heels of “Crook” O’Neil.
But ever a blight on their labours lay, And ever their quarry would vanish away, Till the sun-dried boys of the Black Tyrone Took a brotherly interest in Boh Da Thone:
And, sooth, if pursuit in possession ends, The Boh and his trackers were best of friends.
— Rudyard Kipling
“The Ballad of Boh Da Thone”

Tulo’stenaloor glanced at his sensors then tugged at his earring; he had better things to do than learn skills that others had.

“How much time do we have?”

“Not much,” Goloswin replied thoughtfully. “They are preparing to fire.”

The estanaar looked at the bloody read oval on the schematic and sighed. He had spent years learning to understand maps and now he wished he hadn’t. He could well imagine the results of this hell-weapon.

“And the radiation?”

“Bad,” the technician admitted. “The zone that will be hit directly by the weapon will extend up the valley almost to the town of Dillard. The primary isotope will be carbon 13, which has a high ionization rate and will induce thermal damage on uptake. My model estimates twenty percent casualties for oolt passing through the zone in the first hour with about a one percent decrease per hour thereafter. Humans, of course, are relatively fragile; unprotected humans will not be able to enter the zone for at least ten days.” He fluttered his crest and snapped his mouth in humor. “It’s actually a very… what is that human term? It is a very elegant weapon in its way. The power is frightful, of course, but it also denies territory for some time. However, the ground is fully cleared in a month or two, at least sufficient for life. Elegant.”