Starfist - Flashfire. Part 13

"I'll work up plans, General," Sturgeon said when the briefing was finished. "We'll be prepared to come in hot."

"If your entire FIST is the same quality as Company L, I believe the forces opposing us are in for a very unpleasant surprise when you make planetfall. Cazombi out."

Sturgeon spent a few seconds staring at the tight-beam radio he'd been talking on as though it might shed light on what he should do, then handed the headset to the chief petty officer who ran the comm suite and thanked him for keeping the channel open despite the best efforts of the rebels to jam it.

"No problem, sir," the chief said. "I've a good crew. We pride ourselves on defeating all attempts to interfere with our beaming." He said it calmly, but his pride still showed through.

Sturgeon palmed the crystal on which he'd recorded the briefing, and headed for his shipboard operations center to brief his staff and begin making plans for the landing.

An hour before 34th FIST began to disembark from the Lance Corporal Keith Lopez, Lance Corporal Keith Lopez, Brigadier Sturgeon called his top people together for a final briefing on the situation planetside and what they could expect when they landed. Brigadier Sturgeon called his top people together for a final briefing on the situation planetside and what they could expect when they landed.

He concluded with, "Gentlemen, you know your Marine Corps history as well as I do. Whenever the Marines work with the army, it's either to kick a door open for them to advance through or to rescue their sorry a.s.ses from whatever mess they've gotten themselves into. The army has gotten itself into a real mess this time, and we're the only thing between them and utter destruction. So we are making planetfall in the highest tradition of the Confederation Marine Corps and its predecessors. Marines have never lost a battle. Thirty-fourth FIST will not not be the first Marine unit to do otherwise. be the first Marine unit to do otherwise.

"Dismissed."

The Marines of Company L filed into the troop mess and, squad by squad, took seats at the tables. They weren't there for a meal, so the squad and fire team leaders sat with their men instead of segregating themselves at the NCO tables. Gunny Thatcher and the platoon sergeants came in after the junior NCOs and junior men and took station behind the tables near the entrance to the mess. The muted clangs, bangs, and shouts of cooks and messmen could be heard through the drawn shutters behind the serving counters; the voices of the seated Marines were even subdued.

After a couple of minutes, First Sergeant Myer entered from a side entrance and marched to the center of the serving counters. He faced the company, standing at attention, and slowly looked them over. Without visibly taking in a breath, he bellowed, "COMP-ney, a-ten-HUT!"

Throughout the mess, the Marines lurched to their feet and stood at attention. Top Myer looked back at the entrance through which he'd come. Captain Conorado marched in, followed by the company's other officers.

Conorado strode to Myer, who announced, "Sir, Company L all present and accounted for!"

"Thank you, First Sergeant," Conorado said formally.

Myer backed off and stood with the officers, midway between the entrance and the company commander, facing the men.

Conorado stood at ease, looking at his Marines. "Seats!" he ordered, and gave them a moment to get settled. "I don't have to tell you about war," he began. "Most of you remember Diamunde, which was the fiercest war I've served in. Most of you who weren't on Diamunde were on Kingdom, and the only difference between that campaign and a real war was the scale.

"On Kingdom, we were two FISTs against a division-size force of Skinks. Diamunde was bigger, there six FISTs kicked open the door for an army corps, and then fought alongside that corps against a planetary force armed with tanks-those of you who joined us after Diamunde and don't know what a tank is, ask your squadmates after you're dismissed.

"In a couple of days we will make planetfall on Ravenette, where we will join two badly mauled Confederation Army divisions in a holding action against the combined ground forces of a dozen worlds." He paused to let that sink in. "Those two army divisions have one major thing going for them, probably the only thing that's kept them fighting for as long as they have-their commander. Most of us have served under him before, and know how good he is. Major General Alistair Cazombi."

Conorado was interrupted by expressions of recognition and surprise among his Marines. He patted the air to quiet them down. "That's right, the same 'Cazombi the Zombie' who was in command on Avionia, a man many of you think is good enough that he should be a Marine. Thirty-fourth FIST will be under his command. Make that, Thirty-fourth FIST will be a component unit under his overall command.

"Other Confederation forces, including a couple more FISTs, are on their way to help with the holding action. Our first job will be to help those two divisions hold until those reinforcements arrive. Then we will all hold on until a field army that is being organized arrives. Don't ask how long that will take, Confederation forces have been widely dispersed and divisions and brigades have to be drawn from widely separated locations to form the field army."

While Conorado was speaking, a navy yeoman slipped into the mess and handed a flimsy to the nearest officer, who happened to be Lieutenant Humphrey, the company executive officer. Humphrey signed for the flimsy and glanced at it while the yeoman slipped out as silently as he'd slipped in. Humphrey had no expression as he quietly slipped behind the other officers to hand the flimsy to Captain Conorado.

Conorado glanced at the message while he continued to deliver his briefing. "I said a moment ago that the two divisions already on Ravenette have an advantage. We have an advantage as well. Marines have a long history of going into situations where larger army units are pressed to the point of defeat, and rescuing them.

"I have just been handed an update on the planetside situation. During the short time since the Lance Corporal Keith Lopez Lance Corporal Keith Lopez returned to s.p.a.ce-3, there has been a change of command in the Confederation forces on Ravenette. Major General Cazombi isn't going to be in command much longer. An army general by the name of Jason Billie is en route and will take over on his arrival. Major General Cazombi will be the deputy commander of Confederation Forces, Ravenette." returned to s.p.a.ce-3, there has been a change of command in the Confederation forces on Ravenette. Major General Cazombi isn't going to be in command much longer. An army general by the name of Jason Billie is en route and will take over on his arrival. Major General Cazombi will be the deputy commander of Confederation Forces, Ravenette."

He smiled grimly. "It doesn't matter who's in command in the theater of operations. We are Marines, and we're going to save the army's a.s.ses again. Expect to go in hot. That is all." Conorado abruptly turned and exited the mess, with the other officers tailing him.

"A-ten-HUT!" Top Myer roared. The footfalls of the officers were drowned out by the sc.r.a.ping of chairs as the Marines snapped to their feet. Myer watched until the door closed behind the officers, then turned and nodded at Gunny Thatcher, who marched to that side entrance and dogged it down. Staff Sergeant DaCosta, first platoon sergeant, dogged the main entrance and stood in front of it, mirroring Thatcher with arms folded across his chest.

Myer stood front and center, arms akimbo, glowering at the Marines for a long moment before snarling, "Siddown and listen up." He began pacing, looking into a distance somewhere beyond the surrounding walls, uncertain what to say in his unofficial briefing. He stopped when growing rustles of restlessness broke into his reverie and slowly turned to face the Marines again. The rustling stopped.

"You heard the Skipper: we're going to war," he began. "But this isn't just a war, it's a civil civil war. I'm sure all of you know enough history to know that civil wars are more vicious than any other kind of war. No matter what rationale they cloak themselves in-freedom, equality, religion, ideology, what have you-civil wars are almost always two or more factions fighting over who gets the biggest chunk of the pie, who gets the wealth and privilege. war. I'm sure all of you know enough history to know that civil wars are more vicious than any other kind of war. No matter what rationale they cloak themselves in-freedom, equality, religion, ideology, what have you-civil wars are almost always two or more factions fighting over who gets the biggest chunk of the pie, who gets the wealth and privilege.

"This isn't that kind of civil war, it's a war of secession."

Myer's brow furrowed. What could he say about wars of secession to tune his Marines up, to make them more alert and likely to survive the abattoir they were about to plunge into? Maybe if he came at it from the side- "Civil wars are so b.l.o.o.d.y because each side is afraid of reprisals if they lose; it gives a different twist on 'fighting to the death.' And the fear of reprisals is realistic; history is filled with examples of the victorious side in a civil war slaughtering the losers. Few have ended without reprisals, whether death, imprisonment, or 'reeducation' of the losers-'reeducation' is a euphemism for imprisonment and forced indoctrination. In a war of secession, if the rebels win their independence from the larger body politic, reprisals are commonly carried out on those in the newly independent territory who opposed the rebellion, or merely didn't even partic.i.p.ate. If they lose, they are subject to the most horrendous penalties, including penalties that go beyond the law. So the rebels fight fiercely, not only because they are convinced of the righteousness of their cause, but from fear of the consequences of failure."

Myer stopped and leaned forward, slowly sweeping the room with his gaze so that every Marine thought the first sergeant looked him directly in the eyes.

"You're Marines," he said slowly, "the best, toughest, winningest warriors humanity has ever known. But that doesn't mean that you can cakewalk when we make planetfall, just because we're up against a coalition of planetary forces. Remember Diamunde! Remember Diamunde! That was just a planetary force, and we suffered heavy casualties. Ravenette is going to be tougher, because we're outnumbered even worse than on Diamunde. Diamunde was fought because of one man's megalomania and greed. That was just a planetary force, and we suffered heavy casualties. Ravenette is going to be tougher, because we're outnumbered even worse than on Diamunde. Diamunde was fought because of one man's megalomania and greed. This This war is being fought by people who believe they are oppressed and want freedom. They think they are second-cla.s.s citizens, that the Confederation of Human Worlds takes unfair advantage of them, that they are deliberately kept out of the mainstream and are denied their fair share of the wealth of the Confederation. They believe the only way they can correct the inequities committed against them is to rise up and overthrow what they see as a dictatorship. war is being fought by people who believe they are oppressed and want freedom. They think they are second-cla.s.s citizens, that the Confederation of Human Worlds takes unfair advantage of them, that they are deliberately kept out of the mainstream and are denied their fair share of the wealth of the Confederation. They believe the only way they can correct the inequities committed against them is to rise up and overthrow what they see as a dictatorship.

"They're going to fight harder than anybody you've ever been up against."

The first sergeant glared over the Marines of Company L for a moment, then decided he needed to add a comment about the unexpected change in command planetside.

"Like most of you, I remember Major General Cazombi. Good man, good commander. Could have made a decent Marine brigadier. Every Marine I know who's ever dealt with him says the same thing. And you know Marines, if they say anything good about an army general, he's got to be someone special. As for General Billie, I've never met the man, never served under him. But when you get right down to it, it doesn't matter who the theater commander is. We are Marines. We will do what Marines always do: fight our battles aggressively, and win them."

He straightened to attention, gave his Marines another quick look over, then turned and marched to the door that Gunny Thatcher hastily undogged to allow him out. He hoped n.o.body noticed that he hadn't said he didn't know anybody who'd met or served under General Billie. He did know such Marines.

Not a one of them had a good word for him. And the bad words they had went far beyond simple interservice rivalry.

The Marines lined up in the pa.s.sageways outside their compartments. A casual pa.s.serby might have been forgiven for thinking the pa.s.sageways were empty. Of course, if the pa.s.serby had tried to turn into the empty pa.s.sageway, he'd collide with something he couldn't see-and hear the laughter of men he couldn't see. But the sailors of the Lance Corporal Keith Lopez Lance Corporal Keith Lopez knew the Marines were a.s.sembling prior to planetfall and those without an official need to visit wisely kept their distance from the troop areas of the starship. knew the Marines were a.s.sembling prior to planetfall and those without an official need to visit wisely kept their distance from the troop areas of the starship.

The Marines wore combat chameleons, uniforms that picked up the color and visual texture of whatever was nearest and were therefore effectively suits of invisiblity.

Ensign Charlie Ba.s.s, followed closely by Staff Sergeant Hyakowa and a bosun's mate third cla.s.s, stepped into the pa.s.sageway that ran along the compartments his platoon was billeted in. Unlike their Marines, Ba.s.s and Hyakowa were visible. Their heads at least; they carried their helmets under their arms.

"Uncover!" Ba.s.s barked.

In a moment, thirty heads hovered at man-height along the sides of the corridor.

"Keep your d.a.m.n helmets off until I tell you to put them on," Ba.s.s snarled. "I don't want to have to put mine on to find you." His look could have been interpreted as, "Who's the wisea.s.s who told you to put your helmets on?" The Marines wisely chose not to answer the unspoken question.

"Let me hear you," Ba.s.s said. The disembodied heads bounced up and down; the only sound was the soft thudding of boot heels as the Marines came down from their bounces. Ba.s.s nodded, satisfied- noises made by unsecured equipment could give away an invisible Marine and at least partially negate the advantage his chameleon uniform gave him. "Everybody have everything?" he asked.

"Yessir," the Marines chorused. The loudest voices, almost solos in their volume, were those of the squad leaders; they'd already inspected their men and knew they had all their combat gear.

"Then n.o.body will mind if I check." Ba.s.s slipped off his chameleon gloves and began moving between the two rows of Marines. He touched here and there below the floating heads, not thoroughly inspecting anyone, but checking for one or another item on each Marine.

Finished, he stood at one end of the two lines and looked down them. "I wish I had an update for you," he said, "but I don't. All I can do is tell you what I think. Those poor doggies down there are getting beat to h.e.l.l. The Coalition forces still haven't shown any sign of having weapons that can knock down an Essay making a combat a.s.sault landing, but that doesn't mean they don't. So Captain Bhofi is dropping us two two hundred klicks offsh.o.r.e. That gives us just that much more time to fret over what kind of s.h.i.t we'll hit when we cross the beach." He grinned. "Or that much more time to sleep while we can. Either way, we need to be ready to return fire as soon as the ramps on our Dragons drop. hundred klicks offsh.o.r.e. That gives us just that much more time to fret over what kind of s.h.i.t we'll hit when we cross the beach." He grinned. "Or that much more time to sleep while we can. Either way, we need to be ready to return fire as soon as the ramps on our Dragons drop.

"Now if this nice sailor behind me will lead the way, we'll go to the well deck." Ba.s.s turned around and had to laugh at the expression on the face of the junior petty officer who thought he hadn't been noticed by the eerie Marine officer he'd followed to the pa.s.sageway. Ba.s.s gestured with a stillungloved hand.

"Ah, y-yessir," the petty officer said. "If you'll follow me, please, sir."

Ba.s.s followed the sailor, third platoon followed Ba.s.s like ducklings. Hyakowa brought up the rear.

Twelve minutes and many turnings later, third platoon emptied into the well deck, where fifteen Essays hulked with their ramps open under the low overhead, exposing the three Dragons each held. The rest of Company L arrived at the same time. The ramps on four of the Dragons were closed; Kilo Company had already boarded. A chief petty officer shouted commands to junior petty officers and ratings, who ushered the Marines into the waiting Essays, where the platoon sergeants herded them into the encapsuled Dragons.

Inside the Dragons, the squad leaders took over, getting their men into the webbing that would secure them during the powered drop from orbit to winged flight. It didn't matter how many times they'd made planetfall, there was always somebody who needed help with the webbing straps. The platoon sergeants came through and made sure the squad leaders were properly secured, then took their own places, where they and the platoon commanders were checked by the Dragon crew chiefs. As the Marines on each Dragon were checked, the Dragon raised its ramp. The Essays' ramps remained down until every one was filled with its full complement of Marines.

Loud clicks reverberated across the well deck and penetrated into the Dragons as grappling hooks latched onto the Essays and lifted them into contact with the magnets on the overhead. A warning tone sounded, and a carefully modulated, female voice announced, "Preparing to evacuate atmosphere from the well deck. All hands, vacate the well deck. I say again, all hands, vacate the well deck. You have forty-five seconds to leave the well deck." There was a pause, then the voice spoke again, "All hands, vacate the well deck. You have thirty seconds to leave the well deck." The message repeated at twenty seconds, then counted down from ten. Even inside the hermetically sealed Essays, ears popped when the air was sucked out of the well deck.

A bosun's whistle sounded throughout the starship, and the female voice announced, "All hands, now hear this. Secure for null-G. I say again, all hands secure for null-G. Null-G will commence in thirty seconds." The seconds ticked by, with another warning at twenty seconds and a countdown from ten. The entire universe seemed to jerk when the Lance Corporal Keith Lopez Lance Corporal Keith Lopez's artificial gravity was turned off.

A moment later, a subsonic rumble was felt as the well deck's floor was rolled out of the way, exposing the interior to s.p.a.ce. The magnets and grapples holding the Essays released and plungers in the overhead gave the shuttles a downward push. The Essays floated gently out of the well deck, and the c.o.xswains fired vernier jets to control att.i.tude and maintain formation. In their slowly decreasing orbits, the Essays moved ahead of their mother ship. Once they were clear, the landing officer gave the launch command, and the c.o.xswains fired their thrusters, shooting the Essays ahead of the Keith Lopez Keith Lopez and into a higher orbit until the c.o.xswains fired vernier jets on the Essays' topsides to point them planetward. and into a higher orbit until the c.o.xswains fired vernier jets on the Essays' topsides to point them planetward.

The landing officer's command and the manipulations of the c.o.xswains weren't necessary, the launch was controlled by computers, but the command was given and b.u.t.tons pushed anyway, just in case something went wrong with a computer. Just minutes after being nudged from the well deck, the fifteen Essays were diving under power, directly at the surface of Ravenette.

Most orbit-to-surface shuttles spiraled down, taking as many as three orbits to reach planetfall. But Marines didn't make planetfall gently, even when they weren't expecting trouble when they reached the ground. Instead, Marines always made a combat a.s.sault landing-powered flight, straight down until it seemed inevitable that they would make catastrophic contact with the surface, before breaking out of the plunge to spin into a tight, velocity-eating spiral and popping drogue chutes, then ultimately gently setting down on the sea. Everybody but the Marines thought they were crazy for always always making combat a.s.sault landings, but 34th FIST making combat a.s.sault landings, but 34th FIST was was expecting a hostile reception, so this time n.o.body thought the Marines were odd at all. Which didn't stop the sailors aboard the expecting a hostile reception, so this time n.o.body thought the Marines were odd at all. Which didn't stop the sailors aboard the Lance Corporal Keith Lopez Lance Corporal Keith Lopez from thinking the Marines were crazy for being willing to dive headlong into combat. from thinking the Marines were crazy for being willing to dive headlong into combat.

At first, the atmosphere was negligible, and all that disturbed the Marines in the Dragons was the shaking of the Essays caused by the firing of the thrusters. Then the density of the atmosphere grew to tenuous, and the Essays began rattling like poorly-sprung landcars speeding on a gravel road; the webbing began to adjust to the tossing and pitching of the Essays. From there on, the atmosphere steadily thickened, and the landcar's road became potholed, and the potholes steadily grew in size and depth. The Marines had good reason for calling their method of planetfall, "High speed on a rocky road."

There wasn't a Marine in 34th FIST who hadn't made at least three planetfalls; many of them had long before quit counting the times they'd gone at high speed on that rocky road. Still, at least one Marine on at least one Dragon in nearly every Essay gave in to the roiling of his stomach and had to use the suction hose that hovered over each man's face. A couple didn't manage to get the cup to their mouths in time, and escaped globules of stomach gunk flitted about the interior of their Dragons, to the severe discomfort of their companions.

When the Essays cut their thrusters and their wings swung open, the bottom suddenly fell out of the powered dive. They leveled off to swoop into velocity-eating spirals. The Essays jerked when their drogue chutes popped open, further slowing their speed and rate of descent.

The Essays, still in formation, splashed down with unexpected gentleness after their violent plunge through the atmosphere and pointed their noses at the sh.o.r.eline, two hundred kilometers beyond the horizon. Their front ramps lowered into the oceanic swells and the Dragons rumbled off, into the water, and began the swim to the distant sh.o.r.e. As soon as the Dragons were clear, the Essays launched back to mate with their mother ship.

At about the same time the Essays carrying the Dragons touched down, the Essays of the second wave, which had begun spiraling earlier, dipped their noses and opened their ramps to the air. The Raptors and hoppers of 34th FIST slid out then dropped a thousand meters before the Raptors' engines lit off and they formed up and sped toward land. The hoppers took nearly as much alt.i.tude for their engines to light, and almost as much time to gain formation and head landward; they rocked when the air turbulence of the pa.s.sing Raptors buffeted them.

The Lance Corporal Keith Lopez Lance Corporal Keith Lopez relayed communications between General Cazombi and Brigadier Sturgeon, who was approaching the Bataan Peninsula via hopper. Sturgeon drew up hasty plans and issued orders to his battalion and squadron commanders. There was a hole in the defensive dike that his Marines had to plug as soon as they reached the beach. Drive the enemy away and hold position. relayed communications between General Cazombi and Brigadier Sturgeon, who was approaching the Bataan Peninsula via hopper. Sturgeon drew up hasty plans and issued orders to his battalion and squadron commanders. There was a hole in the defensive dike that his Marines had to plug as soon as they reached the beach. Drive the enemy away and hold position.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

The twenty-four Dragons of 34th FIST's transportation company hit the beach in two waves. The twenty Dragons carrying the blaster companies of the infantry battalion headed inland in three columns, led by the two command Dragons. The two maintenance Dragons pulled into a prepared laager to set up shop. The FIST's Raptors were flying endless sorties to hammer a rebel brigade that had broken a hole in the defenders' main line of resistance. The second line was barely holding on.

It was that hole that the infantry battalion was headed for.

"Off, off, off!" the platoon sergeants roared when the Dragons pulled up behind a rise and dropped their rear-facing ramps. the platoon sergeants roared when the Dragons pulled up behind a rise and dropped their rear-facing ramps.

"Out, out, out!" the squad leaders bellowed. the squad leaders bellowed.

The fire team leaders hustled their men out of the Dragons and aimed them at the squad leaders, who stood holding a bare arm high to be seen.

"On me!" the platoon commanders shouted, and looked out of their open helmets so their Marines could see them. the platoon commanders shouted, and looked out of their open helmets so their Marines could see them.

Heavy fire sounded from not too far beyond the rise, piercing the rumble and clank of combat vehicles; the louder booms of plasma fire from the cannons of diving Raptors punctuated the battle din.

"You know what to do," Captain Conorado told his platoon commanders on his helmet comm's command circuit. "Do it!"

"Third platoon, follow this soldier!" Ensign Charlie Ba.s.s said into his all-hands circuit. The soldier designated as third platoon's guide didn't flinch from the invisible hand that gripped his shoulder; he was too shaken by the violence with which his position had been overrun for the mere invisibility of reinforcements to faze him. Ba.s.s gave the soldier a push, and the man trotted in a staggering gait behind the rise to a trench he led third platoon through.

The battle din crescendoed on the other side of the rise. The guide led the Marines through a maze of trenches until they reached a series of bunkers set into a two-and-a-half-meter-deep trenchline facing the enemy a.s.sault.

"Positions!" Ba.s.s said into his all-hands circuit. Even with the ears on the helmets of his Marines turned down to damp the battle noise, he had to shout to be heard over it. He transmitted a quickly drawn map to the squad leaders, showing the squads where to take position.

Sergeant Linsman looked at his surroundings to orient himself with the map, then took a quick look over the lip of the trench to check on the disposition of the enemy. He saw direct fire guns moving into position.

"Stay out of the bunkers!" Linsman ordered second squad. "Use the fire step, fire over the trench."

"You heard the man," Corporal Claypoole shouted. "Fire over the lip."

His last words were drowned out by the crack-sizzle crack-sizzle of Lance Corporal Schultz's first shot at the soldiers of the Coalition brigade that was advancing by fire and maneuver. An enemy soldier fell and didn't get back up. of Lance Corporal Schultz's first shot at the soldiers of the Coalition brigade that was advancing by fire and maneuver. An enemy soldier fell and didn't get back up.

Lance Corporal MacIlargie hopped onto the seventy-centimeter-high firing step six meters from where he'd seen Schultz's shot, and rose up just high enough to see where he was shooting. Claypoole mounted the step between his men.

Seventy-five meters to second squad's right, Sergeant Ratliff saw the same situation Linsman saw and knew the direct fire guns would first rain their fire on the bunkers-making the bunkers death traps when the guns opened up-and ordered his men to set up on the trench's fire step as well.

Corporal Dean positioned Lance Corporal G.o.denov and PFC Quick and took his own position just in time to see a company or more rise up from a trench less than fifty meters in front of him and charge at third platoon, screaming and laying down fire as they ran.

"Take them down!" Dean screamed. He started snapping shots off, shifting his point of aim with each press of his blaster's firing lever. To his sides, he heard G.o.denov and Quick also firing rapidly, but was so intent on what he and his men were doing that he wasn't even aware of the heavy fire coming from the rest of the platoon. Most of the bolts from the Marines' blasters. .h.i.t enemy soldiers-there were too many of them for level shots to miss-but there were so many of them, and they were so close, that most of them reached the trench.

Dean thrust his blaster between the legs of a soldier just as the man began to jump into the trench, he barely had time to see the look of surprise on the rebel's face at not seeing anybody in the trench when his expression changed to horror at his abrupt loss of balance. The soldier fell forward, flipping over, and hit the bottom of the trench face first with a sickening snap. snap.

But Dean didn't have any time to deal with the fallen soldier; another jumping body clipped his back, jolting him and knocking him into the face of the trench. Dean spun around to his right and slammed the b.u.t.t of his blaster into the back of the head of the rebel, who was off-balance from clipping someone he hadn't seen. The man flew forward into the other side of the trench.

Confused by not finding anybody in the trench, terrified at being struck by invisible forces, yelling and gesticulating rebels milled about. Many of them began firing wildly-but the Marines held their fire at such close quarters so they wouldn't accidentally shoot each other. Instead, the Marines used their blasters as quarterstaffs, the way they'd been taught in Boot Camp but most had never had to do in combat. Some dropped their blasters in favor of their knives.

Before the last of the rebel soldiers reached the trench, their officers and sergeants realized that instead of the disorganized and demoralized soldiers they expected to close with, they were up against Confederation Marines in chameleon uniforms. They began to shout orders, changing the a.s.sault tactics and easing their troops back from the edge of panic. The soldiers stopped their wild fire and paired off, standing back to back, using their rifles in the same manner the Marines were using theirs-they too had trained with pugil sticks.

But the Marines could see their targets, the Coalition troops could only see an occasional splotch of blood or gob of mud bobbing or twisting in the air-and their numbers had been severely reduced during the long minutes before their officers and soldiers began to restore order.

Dean held his blaster with his left hand behind the handgrip and the right on the forestock. Two soldiers jumped back to back before him, neither facing him directly. Dean leveled his blaster and threw his entire weight into a thrust, striking one soldier in the middle of his face, between nose and cheek, with the muzzle of his blaster. He followed through by swinging the b.u.t.t of the blaster around to slam into the side of the second man's head, just behind and below the ear, under the edge of his helmet. Both men dropped hard, and Dean ignored them to viciously slam another soldier off his feet.

Two meters away, G.o.denov ducked under an undirected cross-b.u.t.t stroke and dug the point of his knife up under the man's sternum, through his diaphram, and into his heart. G.o.denov jerked the blade out as the soldier fell away, slashing up and to the side at the neck of the man's partner, who was turning to see why they'd lost contact. That soldier dropped his weapon and gurgled as his hands tried to stanch the blood spurting from his opened throat.