"What we're going to do," Broglie said, taking charge of the discussion again, "is turn a sow's ear into a . . . nice synthetic purse, let's say. Second Platoon is going to do that."
He looked at his subordinates. "And I am, because I'm going to be with you tomorrow."
The holographic display responded to Broglie's gestures. Blue arrows labeled as units of the Black Banner Guards wedged their way across the map toward the Hindi lines. Four gray dots, individual Slammers tanks, advanced beyond the arrows like pearls on a velvet tray.
"The terrain is pretty much what we've seen in each of the valleys we crossed on the Han side of the boundary," Broglie said. "Dikes between one and two meters high. Some of them broad enough to carry a tank but don't count on it. Mostly the dikes are planted with hedges that give good cover, and Hindi troops are dug into the mud of the banks. At least Hindi troops—Baffin may be stiffening them."
"Morobad's not the same," Medrassi said through the hedge of his dark, gnarled fingers. "Fighting in a city's not the same as nothing. 'Cept maybe fighting in Hell."
"Don't worry," said Broglie dismissively. "Nobody's going anywhere near that far."
He looked at his tank commanders."What the Strike Force is going to do,guys," he said. "You, me, and the Black Banner Guards . . . is move up—" blue arrows came in contact with the red symbols"—hit 'em—" the arrows flattened "—and retreat in good order, Lord willing and we all do our jobs."
"We'll do our jobs," Sergeant Peres grunted, "but where the hell's the rest of H Company?"
She raised her eyes from the horrid fascination of the holographic display, where blue symbols retreated eastward across terrain markers and red bars formed into arrows to pursue. "Where the hell is the rest of the battalion, Echo, Foxtrot, and Golf?"
The blue arrows on the display had attacked ahead of the gray tank symbols. As the Han forces began to pull back, the tanks provided the bearing surface on which the advancing Hindis ground in an increasingly desperate attempt to reach their planetary enemies.
"Fair question," Broglie said, but he didn't cue the holographic display. Symbolic events proceeded at their own pace.
Outside the Slammers' shelter, a multi-barreled machine gun broke the near silence by firing skyward. Loops of mauve tracers rose until the marking mixture burned out two thousand meters above the camp. Han officers went off again in their furious charade of authority.
Des Grieux sneered at the lethal fireworks on the other side of the one-way fabric. The bullets would be invisible when they fell; but they were going to fall, in or bloody close to the Han lines. Broglie was a fool if he thought this lot was going to do the Slammers' fighting for them.
Red arrows forced their way forward over holographic rice paddies. The counterattack spread sideways as Han symbols accelerated their retreat. The gray pearls of the four tanks shifted back more quickly under threat of being overrun on both flanks. Orange arrows joined the red when the computer model estimated that Baffin would commit his far-more-mobile forces to exploit the Hindi victory.
"The rest of our people are here," Broglie said as lines and bars of gray light sprang into place to the north,south,and east of the enemy salient. "Waiting in low-observables mode until Baffin's got too much on his plate to worry about fine tuning his sensor data. Waiting to slam the door."
On either flank of the red-and-orange thrust was a four-tank platoon from H Company and a full company of combat cars. Gray arrows curving eastward indicated combat cars racing across rice paddies in columns of muddy froth, moving to rake the choke point just east of Morobad where enemy vehicles bunched as reinforcements collided with units attempting a panicked retreat.
The dug-in infantry of the Slammers' Echo Company blocked the Hindi eastward advance.On the holographic display, blue Han symbols halted their retreat, then moved again to attack their trapped opponents in concert with Hammer's infantry and the tanks of 2nd Platoon.
The display still showed 2nd to have four vehicles. Everybody in the shelter knew that rear-guard actions always meant casualties—and didn't always mean survivors.
Medrassi grunted into his hands.
"The hogs'll provide maximum effort when the time comes," Broglie said. "The locals have about thirty self-propelled guns, also, but their fire direction may leave something to be desired."
"It's not," Peres said, "going t' be a lot of fun. Until the rest of our people come in."
"The battle depends on 2nd Platoon," Broglie said flatly. "You're all highly experienced, and mostly your drivers are as well. Slick, how do you feel about your driver, Pesco? He's the new man."
Des Grieux shrugged. "He'll do," he said. Des Grieux was looking at nothing in particular through the side of the tent.
Broglie stared at Des Grieux for a moment without expression. Then he resumed, "Colonel Hammer put Major Chesney in command of this operation, but it's not going to work unless 2nd does its job. That's why I'm here with you. We've got to convince the Hindis—and particularly Baffin—that the attack is real and being heavily supported by the Slammers. After the locals pull back—"
He looked grimly at the display, though its image—enemy forces trapped in a pocket while artillery hammered them into surrender—was cheerful enough for Pollyanna.
"After the Han pull back," the captain continued softly, "it's up to us to keep the planned withdrawal from turning into a genuine rout. Echo can't hold by itself if Baffin's Legion slams into them full tilt . . . and if that happens—"
Broglie smiled the hard, accepting smile of a professional describing events which would occur literally over his own dead body.
"—then Baffin can choose which of our separated flanking forces he swallows up first, can't he?"
A Han laser slashed the empty darkness from the perimeter.
"Bloody marvelous,"Peres murmured."But I suppose if they knew what they was doing, they wouldn't need us t' do it for them."
Medrassi laughed. "Dream on," he said.
"Do you all understand our mission, then?" Broglie asked. "Sergeant Peres?"
"Yes sir," Peres said with a nod.
"Sergeant Medrassi?"
"Yeah, sure. I been in worse."
"Slick?"
Des Grieux stared at the wall of the shelter. His mind was bright with the rich, soul-devouring glare of a tank's main gun.
"Sergeant Des Grieux," Broglie said. His voice was no louder than it had been a moment before,but it cut like an edge of glass."Do you understand the operation we will carry out tomorrow?"
Des Grieux looked at his commanding officer. "Chesney never came up with anything this cute," he said mildly. "This one was your baby? Sir."
"I had some input in the planning, that's right," Broglie said tonelessly. "Do you understand the operation, Slick?"
"I understand that it makes a real pretty picture, Cap'n Broglie," Des Grieux replied. "Tomorrow we'll see how it looks on the ground, won't we?"
Outside the shelter, machine gun fire etched the sky in pointless response.