“You are not.” Indowy could whine just like puppies when they were distressed enough.
“If any of us survive!” Cally pointed out.
“As long as they don’t find out about Edisto, the Clan survives,” Papa said.
“That is a remarkably Indowy way of looking at things, Clan Leader,” Aelool said.
“So we’ve got some overlap,” Papa said. “But we can’t hide them in Venezuela forever. Or even for very long. These guys are hot as a nuclear potato.”
“You will not need to,” a Himmit said, fading into sight.
“I hate you guys!” Papa said. “Dammit, how did you get in here?”
“We have managed to secure a ship large enough to transport all of your dependents and the Indowy in one load,” the Himmit said, not bothering to answer. “It is stationed off your Gamma tunnel. They will be transported to a point of safety until this blows over. They will be safe and impossible to find. You have the guarantee of the Himmit Empire.”
“Empire?” Cally said.
“There is not much time,” the Himmit continued. “Begin your evacuation at once.”
“So we have no idea what’s down there, General?” Sergeant Harkless asked, looking at the hologram with an unhappy expression.
The Banshee shuttle, there not being a danger of ground-fire, was cruising along at 70,000 feet. Mike had been on enough bad Banshee flights in his time that he’d asked the pilots to avoid turbulance.
There wasn’t much turbulence at 70k.
“Nada,” Mike said. “What you’re seeing is what we’ve got. Remote sensing indicates it’s the size of a Sub-Urb but there’s more power than normal. Also some antimatter, possibly from weaponry but it might just be power sources. There are at least one thousand Indowy and an unknown number of humans. Humans have been shown to have high skills but only light weapons. Don’t bet on the last part. They have extensive Indowy support.”
“ACS, sir?” Lieutenant Cuelho asked. The LT was a bit taller than Mike with short-cropped hair. He was starting to get over wagging his tail to be in the same shuttle as “Iron Mike” O’Neal. Mike hoped that he settled down before the bullets started flying. The fact that he could think clearly enough to ask a question helped.
“Probably not,” Mike said. “But ACS-killing weaponry? Possibly. For that matter they might have the sort of modified Posleen weaponry the Ten Thousand used.”
“Juvs, sir?” Sergeant First Class Harkless asked. Long-life soldiers tended to be a force multiplier. Harkless was a prime example. He looked in his mid-twenties but had all the tells of a juv. And that long face was familiar. Mike was sure he had seen him before but he’d told Shelly not to tell him where. He liked, at least occasionally, to bank on his overfull protoplasmic memory system.
“Almost assuredly,” Mike said. “Indowy can produce rejuv drugs fairly easily.”
“Until we see what we’re facing I don’t think we can come up with much of a plan, sir,” Lieutenant Cuelho said, nervously.
“Won’t be the first time I’ve done something with damned little intel and no real plan,” Mike said, shrugging. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Looks like a good plan,” Papa said. “About as good as we’re going to get.”
“Glad you’re here to run it,” Cally said, grinning.
“Not going to,” Papa replied, standing up. “Not my forte. I know that Nathan said I’ve got to quit being a captain. Thing is, I was never even a captain. There was more than one reason I let you handle the teams. Could I run this? Yes. Could I run it better than you? No. Running a large force is an art and it’s one I’ve never really had.”
“Bullshit,” Cally said. “You’re much better than I am.”
“At certain things,” Papa said, patting her on the shoulder. “Which is why I’m taking the hide in the atrium.”
“Oh, hell no,” Cally said, her eyes blazing. “That’s suicide!”
“The ACS mostly fights outdoors,” Papa said. “The commander is going to feel more comfortable there than anywhere else. Lots of sight-lines. He’s going to have a bodyguard group. The guy who takes the shot is going to have to be very good if he’s going to survive. It’s really me or you if we’re going to try it. And as I just pointed out, you’re better at running a battle like this than I am.”
“You are not going to die on me,” Cally said, angrily. “It’s not that important.”
“Taking out the commander will throw them off,” Papa said. “It’s important. Just as you surviving is important. And it’s not suicide. Trust me. I’m going to take one shot and be gone before they can react. If he’s not right in my crosshairs, I’ll just evac.”
“Papa,” Cally said.
“Hush, child,” Papa replied, putting his finger on her lips. “I’ll see you at the extraction point.”
“Placerville,” Mike said out of nowhere, his head gently rocking to the movement of the hard-maneuvering shuttle. His chin was resting on interlaced fingers which were, in turn, resting on the butt of his grav-rifle.
Mike had pointed out to the pilots that whereas he didn’t like Nap of Earth flying, he preferred NOE to being shot out of the sky. So when they got in reasonable range of antiaircraft — with GalTech that was about two hundred miles — they had dropped down to ground level and were hammering hard at about two hundred feet AGL. North Kentucky had some relief to it, not to mention power lines, so the shuttles were bucking up and down like a bronco. If the general found that uncomfortable it wasn’t apparent.
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Harkless said. He’d clipped off his weapon and was leaning back, his helmet in the seat next to him and his arm resting on it.
Mike leaned over and spit in his helmet, the biotic undergel consuming the organic material as it did sweat, wastes and, occasionally, puke.
“The rank threw me,” Mike said. “Sorry. RIFed?”
RIF stood for “reduction in force.” After the war there were too many Chiefs and not enough Indians. A lot of officers who wanted to stay in had been reduced in rank.
“Yes, sir,” Harkless said.
“You were a major then,” Mike said. “501st. Whadja make?”
“Colonel, sir,” Harkless said. “Got out. Didn’t find anything worth doing. Joined back up as a private. Rank’s… slow these days.”
“You were a colonel?” Cuelho asked, his eyes wide. “Sir?”
“I sir you, Lieutenant,” Harkless said, chuckling. “Not the other way around. You’re the boss, sir.”
“Hell,” Mike said with a chuckle. “I was a major general. Then a brigadier. Then colonel. Then a major general. Then a colonel again. Now I’m a lieutenant general. Way things are going, I’m bucking for private.”
“Yes, sir,” Harkless said, chuckling in turn. “If you want a job as an instructor… I can hook you up.”
“Thanks,” Mike said.
“Seriously,” Harkless continued. “I know people. Have your people call my people.”
“I’ll do that,” Mike said, laughing. Then he grunted angrily. “Dammit! That’s it!”
“What, sir?” Cuelho said, his eyes wide.
“I’ve done this shit a lot,” Mike said. “Enough that I get déjà vu… A lot. I was trying to figure out what this reminded me of.”