Intrepid

''I see you and them are at each other's throats,'' Drago said when he came on. The tight-beam aimed straight up cut through the jamming. The Wasp was now trailing right behind Thorpe. Drago came on no more than a minute after the other passed below the horizon. ''Do you need anything from me?'' he asked.

''Not now. Thorpe doesn't dare fire at us while we're this close. Can you tell us anything about what they're doing?''

''I can show you where his troops are for the next minute or so. I don't have any idea what he's up to.''

True to his word, Drago and his magic eyes above did give Kris a good view of what was happening in the woods two miles from where she huddled underground. Cortez wasn't running. No, he was clearly ordering his men for another attack, adjusting his forces, sending some to her left to take another go at Jack, another group to her right to have a go at Gunny's crew.

And there were plenty left to move up the middle.

An attack all along the line?

Cortez wasn't that dumb.

The force headed for Gunny's hill looked to be the smallest. Was that a feint?

But if they were the best he had, that could be his main thrust. If Gunny lost the back door, things could come unhinged in a hurry. Kris shook her head; this was the problem with overhead imagery. It let you count noses. What those noses were attached to, how good they were, and what they intended didn't show in a picture from nearly three hundred klicks up.

Kris picked up the phone. ''Jack, Gunny, did you get the pictures from the Wasp?'' They had. ''You see a need to change anything around?''

''Sure looks like he's coming for us,'' Jack said. ''Not sure which of us he's after first.''

''Me neither,'' Gunny said.

''Then I suggest we see what we can do with what we've got,'' Kris said. ''I think I'll take a walk.''

Leaving Penny to send a runner if anything interesting started to develop, Kris ambled off to review her troops.

Close to her OP, volunteers had gotten the word not to shoot. They were none too happy to have missed out on the first volley, but they liked what they saw. Plenty of white shirts lay in the dust. A few called for help; most just snored.

''Could we send someone out to help their wounded?'' an older woman asked. Kris saw in her eyes a grandma who'd worried many a young'un through a tough situation. Kris allowed that she and a couple of other volunteer women could.

Kris followed them down to the cold room, the large storage area that got the digging started on this hill. They even had ice left over from last winter. They might be pioneers, but that didn't mean they expected to rough it. Three women with buckets of water and ladles led the way out the cold room's thick door.

And got shot at from the homestead.

They ducked back. Kris found a broom, a white rag, and tried it again. ''You got wounded lying out in the sun,'' she shouted. ''We got water and bandages. You gonna let us take care of them?''

''No guns,'' the sergeant shouted on his bullhorn. ''And you go back in the door you came out. One of my men thinks you're making a break, and you'll get a bullet for it.''

''Can we bring your wounded in out of the sun?'' the gray hair shouted over Kris's shoulder.

Hmm, not a bad idea, Kris thought. If they got a few wounded under the hill, troops might be more careful about tossing grenades into holes. Which must have been apparent to the sergeant. There was plenty of time for an argument before he shouted. ''Okay, but only the bleeding. Leave sleepers there.''

Which meant that as soon as one of them woke up, he was expected to join in the shooting. Maybe Kris hadn't been as smart as she thought. Sleepy bullets had only recently come into the inventory and data was scarce on long, drawn-out battles with the stuff.

NELLY, NEXT TIME THE FIRING STARTS, REMIND ME TO ORDER SOME MARINES TO REDART THE GUYS WHO ARE DOWN.

YES, MA'AM. I'M SEARCHING THE SOURCE MATERIAL. THERE'S NOTHING IN THE GENERALLY AVAILABLE LITERATURE ABOUT HOW MANY SHOTS A PERSON CAN TAKE, ONE AFTER THE OTHER.

Which wasn't to say that the tests hadn't been made, only that the results had been kept out of the public records. Sometimes you just couldn't do a good deed for all your trying.

The six women slipped out and started their work. No one took a shot at them. A second group, this time including a couple of strapping young boys, and two equally big girls, slipped out to lug the bleeding into the cool room.

No one objected from down the road where the main hostile camp was. Apparently, while they redeployed into their next attack, there was room for humanitarian care.

Or maybe they were just too busy to notice.