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Hamiltonsighed in relief. Good. Hendrix didnt have time to do anything he needs to apologize for. Maybe he wouldn't have anyway. Maybe. "If that's all you will give me," Hendrix said. "All I can give you,"Hamiltoncorrected. "Can. I don't agree, but I suppose I should take what I can get." He hesitated. "Also - I will be sending up my family. Ruth Hendrix, and the two kids." "I will keep them as safe as I keep my own,"Hamiltonsaid formally. "Tell Gary Cummings the offer applies to him as well." "Yes, sir. We - have a plan." "I'd be amazed to find you don't. I hope it's damned successful, and damned bloody. Go kill some Saurons for me." DEATH'S HEAD PATROL ROLAND GREEN AND JOHN F. CARR Roger Boyle knew he wasn't a real Soldier. In normal times he wouldn't have been admitted to the ranks, much less theWarAcademy, but the past decade hadn't been normal times. So many of the elite were dead, and the technical work still had to be done. Then, suddenly, training Page 44 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html nowhere near completed, Boyle was Fifth Rank. But only a Tech. Not really a Soldier, not now, not ever, and the others would never let him forget even if he could. He'd never have graduated from the Academy. He shouldn't have been there at all It didn't matter. The Academy was radioactive dust. So was the Home Planet. Boyle watched it die. It writhed like a live thing, and from its ashes marched an endless stream of Imperial soldiers. When Fomoria fell from the skies to Haven's barren plains they laughed, and now they marched toward the wreckage, legions of them, death in their eyes. Soon there would be no more Soldiers. The marching column grew and grew until it filled the skies, and endless ships poured from the Cat's Eye, and the universe was filled with their noise - Boyle found himself on the floor. What was that? Whatever it was had thrown him out of his bunk, and caved in half the wall. There were shouts, and men running. He stood groggily. Others did the same. For a moment the barracks room was confusion before they sorted themselves out and began putting on their equipment. "Ranks. Any Ranks here?" Boyle shouted. "Aye aye, Assault Leader Roxon here." "Fifth Rank Boyle. Who's senior?" There was no answer. He'd known there wouldn't be. "Fifth Rank Boyle assuming command," he said, as he'd been taught, and as he'd always known would happen some day. But in his fantasies when he took command he did great deeds, and High Command was proud of him. Now it was real. Now what? "Roxon, take two and see what's happening outside. Who's closest to the comm line?" "Tareyton, sir." "Does it work?" "Checking. No, sir. No static. Dead, sir." "Right." There were sounds of combat outside. Small arms fire, and artillery. Boyle pulled on his jacket and fingered the sleeve unit. "Boyle calling anyone. Anyone, this is Boyle." Static. At least it was working. He hadn't expected more. "Help the wounded," he said. And nothing to do but wait - Roxon came back in. He tried to keep his voice calm, but there was a nervous tremor to it as he said, "Mushroom cloud over Headquarters, sir. High explosive rounds dropping on barracks area. Delta one took a direct hit. I saw no other damage to barracks, but it's lethal in the open out there. There's still a lot of A-P falling among the bunkers." Anti-personnel munitions peppering the bunkers. Harassment, it wasn't likely to do much damage. The barracks were solidly built, concrete bunkers protected by earthworks, and all of Firebase One was built like a Roman fortress, critical targets scattered, each defensively self-sufficient. But where the hell were the Ranks? His orders were to survive. As the only officer present that was mandatory, until another Rank showed up. More sounds of artillery. "That's ours," he said, and regretted it. They'd all know, same as he did. "What's the status of Communications Central?" "Bunker looks intact," Roxon said. "We'll go there as soon as it quiets down." Which ought to be soon enough, with our counter-battery fire. "When we move out, Roxon, you'll lead." "Aye aye, sir." "Who's had advanced med tech?" "Here, sir. Swenson." "Good. All troops, if you can't walk, stay here. We'll send Medical for you Page 45 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html when we can. Swenson, do what you can, and listen on Channel Four." "Aye aye, sir. Outside was quiet. Counterfire had done its work. Boyle waited, watching his sleeve timer. Minutes passed. Still quiet. Long enough, anything on the way had got here. "Move out, and make it smart. They'll shift positions and fire again." Twenty-eight men. Out of fifty in the barracks. Twenty-eight in the dim light, with the Cat's Eye hanging above, laughing at them. Explosion. Another. Then - He was thrown to the ground. Everyone dove for cover as debris rained down. Then another explosion. Not cluster bombs this time. High explosive, and they'd detonated something. Fuel and ammunition supplies, Boyle thought. Has to be those. So what have we got left? Damn little. We have US. The Cyborgs, and the Soldiers. First Ranks. High Command. While we live, Sauron lives. Even if we breed with the cattle. Sauron lives here. Sauron rules here. And one day we will return to rebuild Homeworld. The communications bunker hadn't been hit. An island of calm order in a sea of explosions. "Fifth Rank Boyle here, reporting for duty. Who's in charge?" "Communications Technician Landau acting in command, sir. Do you relieve me?" "I relieve you. Report." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |