Intrepid

A man stood, and shouted up the hill, ''Turn off the jammers, Sergeant.'' And the message passed up the hill and into the next valley. Kris made the same call back to her line, and a runner took off for the cave.

''So you ran Thorpe out of our sky,'' the colonel said. Kris nodded. ''If I'd known what I was up against, I might have marched my battalion back aboard our transports and taken off, too. Ain't hindsight wonderful?''

''Did you think about doing that?''

''Hell no, woman. Run my battalion away from a few farmers! Even if they did have a Marine company behind them. No way I could run. Of course, that was the situation then. Now …'' He paused. ''But then hindsight is always a whole lot better than what you got going in.''

A few moments of silence passed before Nelly announced, ''I have the Wasp's signal. Here is Captain Drago.''

''Hey, things look a whole lot quieter down there, Kris. What you doing?'' He sounded abysmally chipper.

''I'm having a little chat with Colonel Cortez. Whether we keep chatting or go back to shooting depends on what you say.''

''Like Thorpe is hot to trotting out of here.''

''Did you two shoot it out?'' Cortez asked.

''Nope. I showed him my Smart Metal™ armor, and he folded without calling to see what I had under it. Flat folded and started running.''

''The young lady down here told me you had twenty-four-inch lasers.''

''Four of them.''

Cortez's lips formed a bitter frown. ''Being abandoned as I am, I have no choice but to accept your terms, Princess Longknife.''

Kris held out her hand. The colonel took it. ''If I had my pistol with me, I'd offer it to you.''

''That pearl-handled automatic looks like a personal possession.''

''It is.''

''So long as you don't violate your parole and attempt to escape, feel free to keep it,'' Kris said.

''I'd have to be suicidal to run,'' he said, eyeing Kris's volunteers, who only now, at the sight of the handshake, were standing up from their firing positions.

Across the field, white coats stood, too. The battle was over. For some, it was lost. For some, it was won.

The wounded pleaded for succor. The dead asked only why.

43

Someone had once said that the only sight worse than a battle won … was a battle lost. Kris found that she and Cortez shared the burden of both.

Cortez organized his troops to gather most of the wounded at the upper end of the valley, close to where they fell. Kris spent a hurried hour sending all the Marine medical personnel who could be spared to them, then hunted up all the free local medics, medicine, and bandages, and sent them, too. Only then did she take a moment to begin organizing a camp for her troops.

At Peter Tzu's suggestion, that was also in this valley.

''Put yourself too close to the swamp, and the skeeters will eat you alive. There's an evening breeze off the hills that the little devils can't fly against.''

So Kris's camp ended up not too far from the colonel's camp.

Kris almost didn't post guards around her prisoners. After all, where could they run, and her Marines were exhausted. Later that night, when a couple of drunken locals, grief maddened by the loss of one's girlfriend, the other's sister, tried to take it out on the unarmed troops, Kris was glad she had.

Next pass, Captain Drago dropped a shuttle full of all the medical supplies he had, and three of mFumbo's docs, who were actually doctors. That was good, because few of the locally trained medics were prepared for the destructive power of modern weapons. For so many of the wounded they were doing their best, but it was heartbreakingly far from enough.

Sergeant Bruce organized himself a convoy and took off at full speed with a dozen volunteers and a sergeant from the Jerusalem Rifles to contact those left to guard the trucks. They loaded the medical supplies left behind, then added any food available, and were back before supper. The medical gear was much appreciated; the three docs had just about exhausted what they'd brought down. All through the afternoon and evening, they lost patients. Now, with morphine, at least no one died screaming.

While the medics fought their private battles with death, most of the rest of the volunteers were overflowing with joy or exhaustion … or both. The animals that had died that noon provided the beginnings of a victory feast. Trucks headed out to nearby farms to get greens, fruit, and other trimmings. They returned with whiskey and beer as well, and the celebration got down and serious.

They had a lot to celebrate. The volunteers' casualties had been amazingly light. Twenty-six dead and eighty-four wounded. Three Marines died holding the observation post. The two that held it to the end were severely wounded and the first on the table when the three docs set up shop. Gunny lost two dead and a dozen wounded holding his ridge. Jack's platoon in the rice paddies retrieved three dead and sent another dozen to sick bay. Kris's middle platoon added a half dozen wounded to those lost at the OP.

Kris's rump company just kept getting smaller.