Intrepid

Rolling onto his smarting butt, Cortez faced something with two twisting and sharp horns, long whiskers … and bad breath.

That looked eager to butt those horns up his nose.

Cortez pulled his mud-caked automatic out and put two rounds between the eyes of the thing.

Its head exploded with a most satisfactory ''thack.''

And Cortez noticed, as he wiped off the horned thing's gore, that matters had quieted down.

The battlefield wasn't silent. No, not by a long shot.

Cortez started to struggle to his feet … and was grateful to one of the white-shirted ones for offering him a hand … even if it did get his whites all muddy.

Out of the ditch, the colonel took a second to survey the situation. There was no more fire. No explosions.

A dense cloud of acrid smoke hung over the battlefield. It was heavy with sulfur, not the usual smell of a well-used rifle range, more like after the fireworks on Landing Day.

A glance in the ditch showed him, next to the body of the white thing he'd shot, a long string of firecrackers. Cortez eyed the troopers beside him and realized they were probably going through the same assessment he was doing.

No dead enemy. No fleeing enemy.

He turned to the farm kid who'd identified the porker. ''What kind of animal is that?''

''It looks like a goat, sir. I don't know what kind. Daddy didn't raise none. Said they were the devil's own critter.''

''I would certainly agree,'' Cortez said. ''Captain Sawyer?''

''Sir,'' the man said, and this time saluted.

Cortez returned the salute. These troops needed to be steadied by routines, by rendered honor. They needed to be distracted … and fast … from their brilliant assault on a barnyard. It was damn sure that no enemy was anywhere around.

Cortez knew he'd been had. Could he prevent these troopers from knowing it, too? What a command challenge. To keep his troops from feeling like he did.

''Our fleeing terrorists have been kind enough to leave behind some fine livestock,'' Cortez said. ''Let's see what we can do about having a good barbecue.''

Captain Sawyer was quick on the uptake; he promptly began issuing orders. ''Sergeant, bring up the wagons. You there,'' he said, pointing at a corporal and his squad. ''We'll need a dozen or more good fire pits. Start digging them.''

First and Second Companies arrived. First was posted as guards and ordered to set up outposts. Second drew the assignment of getting wood or anything else that would burn.

While Captain Sawyer saw to the details of a barbecue, Colonel Cortez brought Major Zhukov up to date. ''So there were no soldiers here, only dinner on the hoof, huh?''

''No,'' Cortez snapped. ''Not even some brilliant Longknife could time the fuses on those rockets and noisemakers from hours ago. There is someone out there observing us. I want you to find him. Track him down. I want his guts for kite string.''

''Yes, my colonel,'' Zhukov said, and was gone.

Colonel Cortez turned back to the preparation for the morning feast, careful to keep a smile on his lips. Careful to make it look like everything was going just as he planned.

Several of the New Jerusalem troopers were experienced in slaughtering and cooking food on the hoof. They butchered the available lunch, hacking it into chunks that could be cooked quickly. What they did with familiar panache left many of their city-bred comrades looking green.

Most of the hostages dove right in, sharing duties with the knowing troops. In a little over an hour, the goats were sufficiently cooked to eat. The hogs took a bit longer.

Zhukov led a small squad of very wet Guards in about the time the pork was declared done. He dropped a length of wire in front of his colonel.

''He hid under a log, used that for an antenna, and was long gone by the time we stumbled on that out-of-place strand.''

Colonel Cortez scowled, tossed a goat leg he'd stripped of all its edible flesh into the nearest fire, and stood.

In a low voice, so only the major and the veterans of his wild-goose chase could hear, he said. ''That makes twice that Longknife girl has played me as a joker.'' He glanced around as his command. ''Twice that girl has crossed swords with me and settled for nothing but a touch.''

Cortez shook his head. ''She will not make a fool out of me a third time. You scouts, get some chow. Zhukov, this hog is amazingly delicious, considering there was no time for us to smoke it. Get something in your stomach. It's been a lousy morning. At noon we march.

''I assure you, the afternoon will be more to our liking.''

34

Lieutenant Kris Longknife stood at the top of the hill and surveyed the work going on below. She, Jack, Gunny, and Peter Tzu had come up here to get a better feel for the terrain. For Kris, this was a first look.

For Peter Tzu, it was unnecessary. He'd built everything within sight by his own sweat, or that of his family.

The head of the Tzu clan fidgeted. His pride in ownership was now replaced by shades of fear. ''This battle of yours. It's not going to destroy everything, is it?''