Starship Troopers

Here a Bug corridor came within twenty feet of the surface and they had simply removed the roof for about fifty feet. Where the rock went, what caused that "frying bacon" noise while they did it, I could not say. The rocky roof was gone and the sides of the hole were sloped and grooved. The map showed what must have happened; the other two holes came up from small side tunnels, this tunnel was part of their main labyrinth -- so the other two had been diversions and their main attack had come from here.

Can those Bugs see through solid rock?

Nothing was in sight down that hole, neither Bug nor human. Cunha pointed out the direction the second section had gone. It had been seven minutes and forty seconds since the platoon sergeant had gone down, slightly over seven since Brumby had gone after him. I peered into the darkness, gulped and swallowed my stomach. "Sergeant, take charge of your section," I said, trying to make it sound cheerful. "If you need help, call Lieutenant Khoroshen."

"Orders, sir?"

"None. Unless some come down from above. I'm going down and find the second section -- so I may be out of touch for a while." Then I jumped down into the hole at once, because my nerve was slipping.

Behind me I heard: "Section!"

"First squad!"—"Second squad!"—"Third squad!"

"By squads! Follow me!"—and Cunha jumped down, too.

It's not nearly so lonely that way.

I had Cunha leave two men at the hole to cover our rear, one on the floor of the tunnel, one at surface level. Then I led them down the tunnel the second section had followed, moving as fast as possible—which wasn't fast as the roof of the tunnel was right over our heads. A man can move in sort of a skating motion in a powered suit without lifting his feet, but it is neither easy nor natural; we could have trotted without armor faster.

Snoopers were needed at once—whereupon we confirmed something that had been theorized: Bugs see by infrared. That dark tunnel was well lighted when seen by snoopers. So far it had no special features, simply glazed rock walls arching over a smooth, level door.

We came to a tunnel crossing the one we were in and I stopped short of it. There are doctrines for how you should dispose a strike force underground -- but what good are they? The only certainty was that the man who had written the doctrines had never himself tried them... because, before Operation Royalty, nobody had come back up to tell what had worked and what had not.

One doctrine called for guarding every intersection such as this one. But I had already used two men to guard our escape hole; if I left l0 per cent of my force at each intersection, mighty soon I would be ten-percented to death.

I decided to keep us together... and decided, too, that none of us would be captured. Not by Bugs. Far better a nice, clean real estate deal... and with that decision a load was lifted from my mind and I was no longer worried.

I peered cautiously into the intersection, looked both ways. No Bugs.

So I called out over the non-coms' circuit: "Brumby!"

The result was startling. You hardly hear your own voice when using suit radio, as you are shielded from your output. But here, underground in a network of smooth corridors, my output came back to me as if the whole complex were one enormous wave guide:

"BRRRRUMMBY!"

My ears rang with it.

And then rang again: "MR. RRRICCCO!"

"Not so loud," I said, trying to talk very softly myself. "Where are you?"

Brumby answered, not quite so deafeningly, "Sir, I don't know. We're lost."

"Well, take it easy. We're coming to get you. You can't be far away. Is the platoon sergeant with you?"

"No, sir. We never—"

"Hold it." I clicked in my private circuit. "Sarge—"

"I read you, sir." His voice sounded calm and he was holding the volume down. "Brumby and I are in radio contact but we have not been able to make rendezvous."

"Where are you?"

He hesitated slightly. "Sir, my advice is to make rendezvous with Brumby's section—then return to the surface."

"Answer my question."

"Mr. Rico, you could spend a week down here and not find me... and I am not able to move. You must—"

"Cut it, Sarge! Are you wounded?"

"No, sir, but—"

"Then why can't you move? Bug trouble?"

"Lots of it. They can't reach me now... but I can't come out. So I think you had better—"

"Sarge, you're wasting time! I am certain you know exactly what turns you took. Now tell me, while I look at the map. And give me a vernier reading on your D. R. tracer. That's a direct order. Report."

He did so, precisely and concisely. I switched on my head lamp, flipped up the snoopers, and followed it on the map. "All right," I said presently.

"You're almost directly under us and two levels down -- and I know what turns to take. We'll be there as soon as we pick up the second section. Hang on." I clicked over. "Brumby—"

"Here, sir."

"When you came to the first tunnel intersection, did you go right, left, or straight ahead?"

"Straight ahead, sir."

"Okay. Cunha, bring ‘em along. Brumby, have you got Bug trouble?"