Intrepid

''Good Lord,'' the old man whispered.

''Help us,'' his younger sidekick finished. And struggled with his ears. ''You could have warned us about the noise.''

''Would you believe I've never actually fired this thing on full power,'' Kris said, and jiggled her own ear.

''Think you could get that barrel a tad more out of here?'' the younger one asked.

''But not too far,'' the oldster suggested. ''If they spot the barrel, we'll have every rifle out there aimed at us.''

''I'd just move on to another firing position,'' Kris said, with an impish grin.

''And we would, too,'' the youngster said, grinning right back.

While they joked, Kris settled into a more forward firing position. Three shots later, and two targets down, she noticed their little crack in the hill was taking serious fire. After the second bullet made it through the port, Kris headed elsewhere. The older fellow followed her, leaving the younger to keep an eye on their hole from well back.

Kris dropped two more of the armored infantry before they made it to the peach orchard. There, they did a good job of disappearing among the trees, behind upended wagons, or by digging in. They also laid down a serious base of fire on Kris's hill.

As Kris trotted along the main cave, she saw shooters in gallery after gallery stuff rocks into their fire ports. Kris tapped the elder who'd been walking with her since she started. ''We've got to keep up our own base of fire. If we go all silent, they'll charge us.''

''I hear you,'' the old man said, ''but you got to understand, we only have so much ammunition. It's not like we fight a war every year or so. Brass is hard to come by. It's easy to reload.'' The guy flinched. He must have just realized reloading was not an option at the moment.

Kris kicked herself; she hadn't taken an inventory of how much ammo her shooters had brought to this fight. The old guy had a good point. But if they didn't keep up their side of the shoot, Cortez and his boys would walk right in and start shooting them up close and personal.

Note to self, next fight bring a logistician.

''Tell everyone to conserve their ammo,'' Kris said, ''but we have to keep up our base of fire. That's all that's keeping them out there and not in here.''

The elder nodded and headed back up the main cave.

Back at her observation post, even with no shots coming from her little hole in the mountain, there was so much lead flying that no one was getting too close to the lookout.

''They are seriously pissed at us,'' Red said.

''We ain't exactly been kind to them,'' Gamma Polska agreed.

''You invade folks' home planet,'' Penny said, ''you can't expect to win a popularity contest.''

''Are we good?'' the leader of the Polska clan asked Kris.

''That depends on how much ammo they brought,'' Kris said. ''If they shoot themselves dry, they are in a world of hurt. Then, of course, we could shoot ourselves dry first.''

''I was wondering when someone might think of that,'' Red said, maybe just now realizing what he'd never thought of before. Supplies matter in a fight.

Kris considered her options. She could hunker down and wait to see who ran out of ammo first, or … Actually she didn't have any other option. This was a battle she hadn't planned on, against a colonel who never expected her to show. It would be decided by who had the last round in the magazine.

Unless …

Kris needed to change her thinking. Elevate her thinking.

Oh. Right. That might do it.

Then again, Captain Drago and the Wasp's crew might not appreciate her dropping this hot potato into their laps. Well, they'd signed on with her. They couldn't expect it to be boring.

NELLY, WHEN DOES THE WASP COME OVER?

THORPE IS OVER US JUST NOW. THE WASP SHOULD BE ALONG RIGHT AFTER HIM.

''Comm, I'll need you to punch me a link through to the Wasp just as soon as you can.''

''Yes, ma'am.''

38

Colonel Cortez did not like the way this battle was going.

Too many of the Guard's heavily armored men lay in the dust on the near side of the peach orchard. Their forty-year-old armor hadn't done so well against the newest mod of the old M-6.

The fire from the peach orchard hadn't started out nearly as strong as he'd expected, and it was already tapering off. Cortez considered sending out a runner to jack up Captain Afonin, but thought better of it. That damn hill was firing back plenty.

Only a half dozen sharpshooters were firing among the psalm singers here in the trees. Zhukov had done a check of ammo during the break. Several of the boxes everyone thought were full of ammo had turned out to have proselytizing pamphlets in them. Just the ammunition a Christian soldier needed.

Zhukov sent a runner. He'd come under fire a full half klick from the dikes. A long stretch of muddy water lay between them and the folks shooting at them. No cover, no protection. The troops were no go.