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“There’s ways,” the civilian said cryptically.

By then the big section of hull plate was starting to slide into the interior. The SheVa techs had carefully wrapped the crane cables through control points so the cables weren’t doing any damage to the interior, but the multiple turns and the length of the cable, not to mention the weight of the huge slab of steel, made for jerky movement.

“Get control lines on the sides,” Garcia said, coming up from the reactor room. “And hook onto the rear with a dozer to stabilize it.”

All three engineers watched as the hull-plate lifted up over the shock and stopped, swaying slightly.

“Don’t drag it,” Kilzer said to the two noncoms who were acting as eyes for the controllers on the far end of the lines. “Drop it straight down on the shock, slowly.”

The plate began to inch down, swayed slightly as one of the side lines slipped, then tapped into place, leaning sideways and then finally coming into full contact with the top of the shock absorber, adjacent to the hole.

“Great,” Kilzer said, taking a remote control out of his pocket. “Hold it there for just a second.”

“Paul, what are you — ?” Garcia asked as Kilzer’s thumb dropped onto the red button. There was a resounding clang! and fire shot out from under the plate.

“Welding explosives!” Kilzer said over the ringing in his ears.

“You’re supposed to shout ‘Fire in the Hole’ or something!” Indy yelled in reply, shaking her head and tapping her ears through the radiation suit. “That was bloody loud!”

“It’s in place,” Kilzer said. “What’s the problem?”

“Paul, that wasn’t a very safe way to do that,” Garcia pointed out, carefully. “Somebody could have gotten hurt. And I’m pretty sure we all just sustained quite a bit of hearing damage.”

“I didn’t,” Kilzer said, pulling his arms out ofr 00 sleeves and reaching up through the suit to pull out earplugs.

“You could have told us!” Indy shouted.

“Wonk, wonk, wonk,” Paul replied, waving at the technicians dangling overhead on lowering harnesses. “Put the explosives in place!”

“More explosives?” Indy asked. “Oh, no…”

“Paul, are you sure about this?” Garcia asked.

“You asked for a press, Warrant Officer Indy,” the civilian said with a smile. “Two hundred pounds of C-4 will do a fine job.”

* * *

“Oh, shit,” Stewart snapped. “Boss, we’ve got problems!”

O’Neal had been trying to figure out if he should suggest to Captain Slight that she reform her line a bit when the call came in. Bravo company had taken nearly two thirds of the casualties so far and there was a noticeable gap in second platoon. But at Stewart’s words he glanced at the transferred data and sighed.

“Duncan,” he said, shifting to a private mode. “I need… three of your troops.”

“That’s going to be tough, boss,” the company commander said. “I’m already starting to get some additional leakers from the way we’re sopping up casualties.”

Mike tossed him the data and listened as the former S-3 swore.

“Boss…” he said and paused, looking at the icons of nearly four thousand Posleen struggling up the steep side of Hogsback. “Boss, I’m not sure they can make it.”

“I’m sure they can’t in the face of any sort of resistance,” O’Neal said. “Slight’s got even more casualties than you do.”

“I know,” Duncan replied pensively. “Major, I’m not doing anything here but sitting in a hole. I’ll take two of my troops and head up the hill myself.”

Mike thought about it for a moment and frowned in his suit. “The purpose of a commander, Captain…”

“Is to command, boss, which ain’t the same thing as leading, I know the mantra. But in this case, I’ve got two platoon sergeants handling the company who can do it just as well as I, and if we’re going to pull people out I’d rather it be as few people from the line as possible.”

Mike frowned again, then sighed. “Accepted, Captain. Do it your way. Just get your ass up the hill.”

“Roger, boss,” Duncan replied. “And… thanks.”

“Oh, gooder and gooder,” Stewart said as Duncan broke off. “And now we have lander emanations.”

“Why is it there’s never a SheVa around when you need one?” Mike asked.

* * *

“I’m not sure I’m getting this.”

Colonel Mitchell had just gotten off the radio with General Keeton. The ACS was taking heavy casualties and if the SheVa couldn’t get them some covering fire soon the Gap was going to open up again. Mitchell knew that if the Posleen started pouring through the Gap with impunity there was no way that any number of antimatter rounds would stop them. Maybe if they had a couple more of the hell-rounds the university had developed it might work. But the SheVa’s rounds just had too small a footprint; the Posleen would simply spread out.

So getting to Franklin before the ACS turned into a battalion of smoking holes in the ground was vital. Especially since even if they could push the Posleen back for enough time to retake the Gap, only the ACS could survive in the current conditions.

And getting the main gun up was all part of making that happen. Which was why he was sweating in a rad suit when he could have been checking on the progress of the rest of the repairs or even, God forbid, catching a cat-nap.

“We need the shock absorber functional,” Colonel Garcia said. He had reluctantly come to the conclusion that Kilzer’s plan, crazy as it was, might just work. But it was dangerous enough he felt the SheVa commander needed to know the possible consequences. And the SheVa’s engineer was not happy about the plan.

“Exactly!” Indy interrupted. “We need it functional, not permanently crippled!”

“What Paul proposes,” Garcia continued with a glare at the warrant officer, “is to wrap a piece of steel around it with the underside coated by welding explosives then set those off. He intends to do the wrapping by applying C-4 in a pattern to the outer side of the steel and setting that off. As the metal settles in place a detonator will trigger the weld.

“This will do one of two things. It will work, to an extent, giving the gun some shots, I’m not sure how many, or it will totally destroy the shock. It could neither work, nor destroy the shock. But the safe bet is on ‘either or.’ ”

“Indy?”

“It’s crazy,” the warrant officer said quietly. “When the C-4 goes off it’s going to crumple the shock like a tin-can. The sheet will be forced downward into it and the metal of the shock will fail. That’s just physics.”

“Colonel Garcia?”

“Paul?”

“Janet?” Kilzer said. “Never mind. That may seem like physics, Warrant Officer, but it’s not high-energy physics. I’ll start the explosion from the outer edge so that the plate has the maximum interest in bending and the minimum interest in pressing downward. It will wrap faster than the underlying metal can crumple. And weld explosives are low power; they won’t cut the steel.”

“Essentially correct,” Colonel Garcia said with a shrug. “Part of the reason it might work is that the hole is in the side of the shock; there is a solid arc of metal at the top of the shock. In addition to that, yes, the hull plates are six-inch steel. But the metal of the shock is three-inch steel, which gives you an idea of the sort of pressures we’re talking about. Which is why a simple weld is a ticket to failure. And it’s not as if we can do more damage. Dead is dead and right now the main gun is dead. This might get it functional. It’s stupid. But if it’s stupid and it works…”