Intrepid

The first shots were sporadic. Then, as soldiers came to prone or kneeling or standing positions, the fire grew into a deafening roar. Clips were emptied and replaced. The mad minute lengthened into two. Trees and shrubs trembled, then came all to pieces. Water here and there was whipped to a white froth.

Cortez studied the effects downrange. Maybe they hit something. Maybe rounds caught someone as they withdrew. Maybe some dart addressed ''To whom it may concern'' had ripped into someone, spreading blood into the water.

Maybe … but Cortez saw no blood, no flesh, no effect at all. He raised his hand, and shouted, ''Cease fire.''

It took a moment for other officers to see his raised hand, to make out his order … and to carry it out. A full minute expended itself before the last shooter was shouted to silence.

Now the silence truly was deafening. He ignored his ears and stared to the right of the causeway, then the left. Here or there, a tree, too shot up to resist gravity, tottered and fell.

Cortez looked for any sign of movement. To his left, a bird squawked and paddled madly in circles, its right wing red with gore. ''Kill it,'' he ordered.

A single shot dispatched the creature.

Now the silence was total. The wavelets from its circling dissipated. The water of the swamp grew glassy except where the wind rolled newly downed trees.

If there had been shooters out there a moment ago, there was no sign of them now. No sign of their dead. No sign of their wounded. No sign of nothing.

''Ah, could someone help us out of this mess?'' It was the voice of Second Company's captain. He, like most of his company, had spent the last few minutes cringing in the grip of the tangle net, trying to make themselves small and somehow avoid getting hit by either incoming or outgoing.

Cortez turned back to his initial problem of so long ago … maybe five minutes before. The colonel's latest survey of them showed nothing that his first glance hadn't told him. ''In six hours the stuff will fall off of you. Until then, I suggest you avoid moving.''

''Can we breathe?'' came from one private.

''Only if you must, and then I would suggest as little as possible,'' Cortez said, and turned away to survey the wreckage.

* * *

So Cortez was a mad-minute kind of guy. And Kris owed Jack five bucks. Kris had assumed someone at the end of a long supply line and stripped of all his transports would do the logical thing and conserve ammo.

Jack had bet that anyone dumb enough to take this job would have a temper. Also, a name like Cortez just didn't seem likely to think rationally once his ox had been gored good and tight.

It had been a friendly bet. As friendly as any a Longknife could have about a live-fire exercise.

So Jack made sure his sharpshooters were ready to go to ground once their job was done. Last shot fired, not one had begun a withdrawal. Each had a hidey-hole handy, the bole of a broom tree, an islet an inch or two above the water. They'd dug to improve their positions, just enough, but not enough to give themselves away.

Then they'd waited.

The wait had been worthwhile.

And despite Colonel Cortez's deafening response, Jack saw no evidence that the score between them was other than zero to zero.

Except Jack had reduced Cortez to walking, and the Marines still had local transport. Oh, and half of one of Cortez's companies was all tangled up, blocking the road, and would be blocking that road the rest of the day. Jack had allowed two hours for his troops to withdraw from contact and expected to be well to the north before he made camp.

With any luck, he and Kris would be in a position tonight to have a little talk of their own. And Drago would be in position, every ninety minutes or so, to tell them how Cortez was doing.

Would the guy use this opportunity to cut and run? Head south, pile into his landers, and get out of Dodge? Neither Kris nor Jack would put a dime down on that bet.

Both, in their heart of hearts, would love to see the backside of this bunch. But hoping for something is not a strategy. If the guy turned south, it was more likely to go on the defensive and invite Kris to try the tactical offensive.

Jack shook his head. He'd been loving the job Kris gave him. Exercise an offensive strategy by being on the tactical defensive. Let Cortez chase them until they had him exactly where they wanted him. It had worked this time. Would he be kind enough to let Kris and Jack do it a second time?

Time to get started. He mashed his commlink but limited it to the landline net. ''Sergeant Thu.''

''Yes, sir,'' came back a fraction of a second slower than it would have on milnet.

''You can untie your locals from the trees they're hitched to.''

''They be glad to hear that.''

''Tell them they can go home now or they can help us. We need holes dug. If they're willing to dig, we'd love to keep them, and they may be in on the final shoot-out.''

There was a bit of silence. ''They say if they'll get a chance to shoot up these robbers, they'll do some digging first.''