"How the hell did they get so close to us without us knowing? That's what I want to know."
"We don't never get to know nothing, asswipe."
"I just want to sleep for a couple of days, that's all I want."
"Don't it bother you that the medians are screwing up?"
"Sure it bothers me, but what the hell do you want me to do about it?"
"The medians always screw up." "That's the whole story."
The earth shook slightly as all three dynes started to move forward. The conversation stopped dead. Crawler crews were reluctantly saddling up again. Sappers had begun to dismantle the temporary structures. Helot looked at Hark. His face was a mask of disbelief.
"We're going after them?"
"You got to be kidding."
The longtimers confronted Rance.
"Is that it? Are we going after them?"
The dynes had waded out into the river and were striding upstream. The gunsaucers were making a wide formation pass across the valley. The crawlers were pulling into line. Rance didn't have to nod.
"Those are the orders."
There was a storm of protest, but even the men doing the protesting knew that it was futile.
"At least you're among the lucky ones," Rance said. "You're all going to ride a crawler up the river."
Elmo's twenty was assigned to crawler 3-except that there was no sign of Elmo. They straggled toward the machine and swung themselves through the port, only to discover him waiting inside the passenger bay.
"What fucking hole were you hiding in?" Renchett snarled.
Elmo's face was as blank as his visor. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Renchett made a disgusted gesture. "Forget it. I ain't got the strength."
The amphibious crawlers slid down the bank and nosed into the water. The overhead compartment covers started to close. The last thing Hark saw before they closed completely was a dead, bloated lizard floating belly up in the shallows of the opposite bank. The covers sealed with a hiss. The lights came on. The compartment was pressurized. The troopers started taking off their helmets and masks. Rations and water were broken out, but a lot of the men just sat hunkered down, backs against the wall, too tired to eat.
Crawler 3 moved smoothly up the river. The majority of the troopers slept. It was an uneasy, uncomfortable sleep, cursed by dreams. Elmo just stared straight ahead in a semitrance, as if he didn't even have what it took to make nightmares anymore.
There was only one incident during the trip upriver. After seventy uneventful minutes, the craft lurched and there was a series of loud bangs. The troopers grabbed for their masks, helmets, and weapons. They had to be taking fire from the bank. A section of the hull was warm to the touch. The crawler's own guns opened up. Inside the passenger bay, the lights flickered. Everyone was crouching on the steel floor, ready for anything. There were two more series of shocks, and then the crawler heeled over in a sharp left-hand turn. Moments later, it did the same to the right. After it straightened out, the men braced for the next shock, but nothing happened. The crawler remained on an even keel, and the guns topped. Nothing else hit the craft, and the incident teemed to be over. Confirmation came from a voice in iheir helmets.
"Hope that didn't shake you up too much. We had a bit of nastiness from the bank, but we seem to have nailed it. We're proceeding on course."
Things had only just settled down when there was a new voice in their helmets.
"All ground troops will hear this."
"It's a forsaken officer."
"That's got to mean trouble."
"Our long-range scouts have discovered an enemy tunnel system that covers most of the upper parts of this valley and extends through the hills. This has to be the means by which they were able to mass so quickly last night before, attacking the task force. Accordingly, we have been given the responsibility of clearing and destroying these tunnels."
"What do you mean 'we,' asshole? You won't be in the goddamn tunnels."
"You will be issued with your individual orders as you disembark from the transport. It only remains for me to wish you luck with this mission."
The men were silent. What they had heard was close to a death warrant. The longtimers had encountered Yal tunnels before. T\mnel clearing always involved severe casualties.
"I hate tunnels.".
There was unashamed fear in the voice. It belonged to Tabor, who had been with the twenty for some forty days. Nobody seemed to have anything to add.
Something grated under the crawler's hull. It lurched as it reared up onto its treads and started to climb the riverbank. Finally it leveled off and stopped. The original voice was back in their helmets.
"You can all relax. As of now, there's no one shooting at us."
When the ports were opened, the first thing they saw as they came down the ramp was Rance. The topman was standing waiting for them.
"I don't want to hear any complaining. I'm no more pleased about it than you are."
The crawler had halted on a flat area of river beach. Beyond it, the side of the valley rose sharply. Sappers had already burned away a large section of jungle, revealing the mouth of a large, previously hidden tunnel that was driven horizontally straight into the hillside. Rance pointed to it.
"That's your one. Take a good look at it."
Take a good look because the odds are that you will die in there, he thought.
"Nothing happened when we opened it up, so we can probably assume that the first stretch is empty. It may well be gimmicked, though, so be exceedingly careful."
He glanced at Elmo, who was staring transfixed at the tunnel entrance.
"Are you netted into the schematic?"
Elmo didn't answer.
"Do you hear me, Overman Elmo?"
Elmo twitched and then looked at Rance. "What did you say?"
Rance's voice was acid. "I asked if you were netted into the schematic of the tunnel system."
"Yes… yes, I'm getting it in my visor."
"Then why don't you take your men into the tunnel."
"You're not coming in with us?"
Rance shook his head. "I'm coordinating this one."
Elmo took one more long look at the tunnel mouth, and he seemed to pull himself together. He faced the men.
"Okay, let's get moving. The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out." "Ifwegetout."
Elmo ignored the remark. Behind them, the crawler was up on its treads and easing back into the river. The thirteen men, all that were left of the twenty, started up the slope toward the tunnel. They halted again before actually going inside.
"Check your redscopes."
Each man turned on the heat vision option in his visor. Where the interior of the tunnel had been pitch-black, it was now a threatening red. There were no more excuses for delay.
"Okay, let's do it."
They moved cautiously into the darkness, as if they were treading on glass. The tension showed with every pace. Kemlo took the point, with Dyrkin right behind him. Elmo stayed well to the rear.
Dacker, who was seventh in line, craned up to look at the ceiling. "I never did like the idea of having a whole goddamn hill over my head."
"Cut out that talking."
They moved on in silence. Behind them, the sky was nothing more than a small disk of brightness beyond the tunnel mouth. The redness in Hark's visor created the illusion that he was walking through the intestines of a giant. The datashot hadn't included much information about anatomy, but he'd learned more than enough on the battlefield to feed the fantasy.
"Hold it back there," Dyrkin barked.
The thirteen halted. Dyrkin, walking point, was in effective command of the squad. It was the way everyone, with the possible exception of Elmo, wanted it. Dyrkin would take no chances. There was an opening in the left wall of the main corridor. It was the first one that they'd encountered, and for all they knew, it could be full of chibas just waiting to boil out all over tfrem. In these kinds of situations, chibas seemingly had infinite patience. Dyrkin waved his arm in a low sweep that everyone understood. The column moved away from the center of the corridor and pressed against the wall. Dyrkin had stopped a few meters before the opening. He spoke softly into his communicator.