Intrepid

''Don't worry, Sergeant, I promise not to get suddenly dead. You take care yourself,'' Kris said, trotting for the door, where Red and several of the Fronour men and women waited.

Kris slipped out the heavy cool-room door and dashed for a shed packed with twenty-five-kilo bags of rice. The first shot wasn't fired until the next Marine was halfway through his run. The second Marine after Kris had a ricochet off his armor.

Kris waved the unarmored volunteers back.

Clicking her rifle's safety to sleepy darts and power selector to low, she popped off three shots at the upstairs window where the fire was coming from. Someone got hit; a rifle dropped from the window and slid across the veranda roof to clatter on the dusty ground below.

Kris and the two Marines quickly put to sleep anyone visible. In the silence, a couple of farmers, led by Peter Tzu, made a run for the rice shed. Someone in the house held a rifle to the window and let it spray on full rock and roll. The last volunteer got hit in the leg and finished in hops.

Kris clicked her rifle to deadly and full power, then put three shots into the wall beside the window.

The shooter went down screaming.

Kris turned to the home owner. ''Me and the Marines are going to put a deliberate fire into that house. You cross the yard one or two at a time. Once you've got a half dozen or more, you signal me and we'll cease fire and let you storm the house.''

''Begging the lieutenant's pardon, ma'am,'' a Marine with corporal stripes on his armor said, ''but how about I trot over there and toss a few grenades in before they charge?''

Kris considered the alternative. ''Peter?'' she asked the home owner.

''There goes my wife's china, but I think she'd rather lose it than me.''

''You could be right, Dad.'' didn't sound all that sure … but it was accompanied by a grin.

Kris sighted on the house. ''Here goes,'' she said, and started punching holes low on the first floor. Somebody screamed. The Marines beside her opened up and chips flew all over the house. Tzu led his son across, followed a moment later by Red and two of his boys. The Fronour crew added four to the side porch when one of them dropped, clutching at his leg.

Kris couldn't spot any action from the house. ''Sergeant,'' she shouted, ''I think we're taking fire from that orchard.''

''Yes, ma'am. You heard what the lady said.'' And any further words were drowned out by a barrage of fire off to Kris's left.

She turned to the corporal, but he was already up and running. He hit the porch, let his rifle loose to dangle around his neck, and in a second had two grenades in his hands.

''Fire in the hole, folks,'' he said, butted the door open, tossed in his grenades, then dove for the floor, taking Red and two other volunteers down with him.

For a slow three count, nothing happened, except Red complaining about a dumb Marine lying on top of him. Then the house exploded. One of the grenades was fragmentary, the other flash bang. Good choice.

In seconds, the Marine and the volunteers were up and charging in over the blown-out door. There were shouts that mainly seemed to say, ''Reach for that gun and die.''

There were no shots fired.

Kris tapped the other Marine to follow her, and they headed to the next shed, full of drying hay bales, to see what the staff sergeant had laid out for them.

* * *

''Captain, we got company,'' Sensors reported.

''You got a visual?'' demanded Captain Thorpe of the good ship Golden Hind.

''On main screen, sir.''

Thorpe only saw a disk. ''Zoom in,'' he ordered.

The image grew and centered on the screen. It certainly was a silver disk. With a striped tiger bounding toward him, growing to cover more and more of the disk, its mouth, full of teeth, roaring silently.

''What the …?'' said his XO.

''Someone has a sense of humor,'' Thorpe said dryly. ''Sensors, tell me what you can about that ship.''

''Not a lot, sir. It's jamming us now. But it has two large, 2200 series reactors. Sir, I'm not getting any readout from a trickle track.''

Ships under boost generated electricity by running the superheated plasma headed for their engine through coils. That not only got them reaction mass but electricity for the ship and its lasers. In port or orbit, ships kept a small trickle of plasma running around a small track to generate the juice they needed.

It had taken Thorpe forever to reload his eighteen-inch lasers after firing them at the landing because he'd only had the track-generated electricity to draw on.

What kind of a ship would have no track?

Thorpe studied this ship charging his lasers. Ship or disk?

''Correct me if I'm wrong, XO, but aren't there ships now that use Smart Metal™ for a protective umbrella in front of them?''

''You know very well there are, sir. You tried to get the consortium to rent us one for this balls-up.'' The XO scowled at Mr. Whitebred. ''They said we didn't need anything so expensive.''