Intrepid

A glance out Kris's observation post told her why. Light infantry was spreading out over the first two or three paddy dikes. So far none had spotted a firing position.

Kris checked the main road. A platoon or two were moving in bounds up the road, one platoon doing overwatch while the other leapfrogged the line of prone troopers. Cortez had committed less than half of his troops.

Damn, when Kris gave the orders to shoot, everyone she had would start shooting. Cortez would see exactly what she had.

''Jack, wait one,'' Kris said, then turned to the commtech. ''Can you stop the jamming just long enough for me to make an all-hands announcement.''

''No, ma'am, they started jamming us as soon as I started jamming them.'' Of course they would.

''Jack, when I give the order, take down the troops on the dikes. Try to get the word to the farmers not to shoot. Let's try not to give away all we have.''

''All I got is runners, and I hope you're about ready to give the word.''

''Send them running. Let me talk to Gunny,'' she said, and punched the buttons. ''Gunny, give yourself a slow five count, then take down the heavies on your front.''

Kris didn't need to tell him he would not be using sleepy darts. The force it took to punch through armor made even a sleepy dart deadly.

''Roger, ma'am. Starting one—''

Kris punched back to Jack. ''Prepare to fire on Gunny's shot.''

Then Kris turned to Penny. ''Tell everyone in this hill not to fire.''

''Don't fire.'' And she was off.

The word passed from gallery to gallery. Kris doubted it would get to everyone, but it should keep the fire down a notch. Maybe she'd have some surprises left for the next assault.

A single shot rang out.

And the valley before Kris erupted with fire.

The small viewing port deflected the full shock and blast from Kris, but its impact was immediately visible.

Men dropped.

The platoon moving forward had their guns at the ready. At the first sound of shooting, they let go on full automatic.

Kris didn't see any targets, but they sprayed the area before them liberally. The complaining farm animals took most of the brunt of their fire. But only for a moment.

Under the hammering of fully automatic fire, Kris could just make out the pop, pop, pop of M-6s firing single shots, low powered for sleepy darts. Men went down in ragged rows. Some twitched. A few managed to get an arm under their heads like they probably did at bedtime. However they did it, they went down.

Out on the rice-paddy dikes, others were going down, too.

Some were hit and going down. A couple looked like they were just dropping. Maybe Jack's Marines weren't getting all of them, but it was hard to tell who was hit and down and who was faking. Maybe the fakers would play it smart and just stay down.

Yeah, right.

The platoon on overwatch was giving as good as it could but couldn't find anything to aim at. Their rapid-fire volleys To Whom It May Concern didn't hit anywhere Kris had stationed gunners. Still, the leaves were flying from the tree and bushes in front of Kris's position, and a noisy round shot into her command post to bury itself in the ceiling.

''Fire enough, and you're bound to hit something,'' Kris mused to the senior clan members sharing the command center with her, then hardened her voice for Red. ''Put the gun down. Don't even think of firing from here. I don't want this hill firing this attack, and I sure don't want us showing where we are.''

Gamma Polska put out a hand, rested it on Red's rifle. The barrel sank to the floor. ''Seems like a chicken way to fight a war,'' he growled.

''Colonel Cortez is just feeling for us,'' Kris said. ''I doubt he expected to lose everything he sent in this time, but this is not his main attack.''

The rapid fire from the white-shirted troopers quieted as they went to sleep, or, in the case of those hit by the farmers, screamed for help. Now Kris could make out the shriek of M-6s on full power. The shots were carefully spaced, and though Kris could not risk a run to one of the gun ports that opened on the other side of her hill, she was willing to bet money that Gunny's team was taking down each of the heavy infantry in that gully. Probably one shot, one target.

''Comm, raise Gunny,'' Kris said.

''I'm flashing him, but he's not answering'' told Kris that Gunny was indeed busy. On Kris's front matters got active.

One of the white-clad soldiers who'd fallen off the dike had been faking it. Down, he spotted a firing port.

Yanking a grenade from his belt, he pulled the pin, leapt up, and tossed it at the opening in the dike. Then he dashed over the dike to escape his own grenade's blowback.

Five rapid pops stopped him. Even before his grenade exploded, he was falling, headfirst, onto the other side of the dike wall. From what Kris could see, legs up, body down, the grenadier was very likely head down in muddy water.

Sleepy darts weren't intended to be lethal. However, if you went to sleep facedown in two feet of water, the darts did nothing to help you breathe.