Intrepid

Kris's commlink clicked, then clicked again. Sergeant Bruce had come in shortly after noon from his job observing the fun and games at the dugouts. He'd gotten a laugh and a new tough assignment. He and a couple of locals were spread out in observation posts well in front of Kris's ambush.

Two clicks meant he wanted to talk. Kris clicked once.

''They're about a mile out. Looks like someone called a break. The officers are circulating among the men giving final reminders. My bet is we've been spotted.''

No surprise. Kris would have no surprise in this fight.

Kris gave a single click, and the commlink went silent.

That was the problem with fighting smart people. What looked good to you looked good to them. When she'd met Thorpe, he hadn't been dumb, just driven. She had no reason to think he'd have a dumb ground pounder working with him.

Kris turned to the folks around her observation post/command center. ''Pass the word. They're a mile out and have stopped for a coffee break. We can expect them anytime.''

Civilians and Marines scuttled off to pass the word. The waiting was over.

35

Kris stood in her command post, its viewing port hidden among the roots of a pecan tree and some berry bushes around it. Quite a few clumpings like these, or even orchards, had grown up in and around the fields planted with the grass/grain hybrid. They helped keep the water from running off too fast.

Now they hid Kris and, in other places, shooters.

Cortez marched up the road … and around Kris, people laughed. His vanguard was a herd of goats and pigs!

At a nod from Kris, the tech disabled the sticky net. No use tying up a bunch of dumb animals. With luck, Kris would reactivate it and still collect some good troops.

Or not.

The pigs and goats stomped or pranced or did whatever their natural inclination was, over a net that had not been designed with hoof traffic in mind. Pigs' hooves sank deep into the net, cut this, connected that. Before the herd was halfway over it, the net was sticking to hooves and being pulled up and out.

One of the goats tried to eat it. That one complained loudly as the net stuck to its mouth, and then it made no noise at all when the net stuck its upper and lower jaw together.

Herders, white-shirted soldiers with long poles in their hands and their rifles slung over their shoulders, kept pushing the back of the herd into the net. At least they did for a while. Soon they were too busy laughing to pay much attention to the animals … or their own situation.

Several of the animals were now stuck together. Hogs didn't like being stuck to hogs. They definitely didn't like being tied up with goats. Matters started going badly for the goats.

The herders laughed harder. Two rolled on the ground.

Beside Kris, Peter Tzu shook his head. ''What a waste of good animals. And to let them suffer.'' He glanced around. ''They will know something is wrong.''

''Why?'' Kris asked.

''Any good farmhand would be out there taking care of those poor animals.'' So there went Kris's last hope for surprise.

Down on the flats, a sergeant trotted up to join the herders. The laughter stopped.

The sergeant pulled up the bullhorn hung around his neck and put it to use. ''You in the farmhouse. Come out with your hands up, and there will be no problem.''

The sergeant only waited a quick five count before he reslung the bullhorn and unslung his rifle. Beside him, the Bo Peeps tossed aside their crooks and unslung their rifles, too. At a signal from the sergeant, they advanced on the homestead.

Several took guard positions, covering all directions. Others dashed into the house. In a moment, the sergeant was standing at an open upstairs window. ''No one here,'' he reported, using the bullhorn.

That was one way to communicate, Kris thought, and where he was only announcing what the opposition knew, it wasn't a bad idea. Beside her, the commtech said, ''I'm getting action on comm frequencies. I can't crack the codes.''

''Nelly?''

''I could in half an hour, maybe longer. Assuming they don't change codes every fifteen minutes.''

Which wouldn't be such a problem in a battle not likely to last an hour. ''Jam all frequencies,'' Kris ordered.

''Done, ma'am.''

Which meant Kris would not talk to her people on the radio net, either. But being on the defensive on ground of her choosing, Kris had prepared for that.

''A call coming in from Gunny,'' the commtech said.

Kris accepted the landline phone. It had two buttons on it; one was flashing. ''Yes, Gunny.''

''We've got action in the draw behind your hill. Two squads of heavy infantry. Hold it. They're breaking up, one squad heading up my hill, the other up yours.''

Gunny's was supposed to be a reserve position, the next hill over dug in along its crest. The shooting should have started before anyone coming up that hill got too close to them. Kris had firing positions on both sides of her hill. The second light on the phone lit. ''Just a second, Gunny; Jack's calling.''