The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 2

Her face was expressionless. When she saw that Des Grieux did not fire, she climbed clear of the tank destroyer. A male commo tech followed her. If they had sidearms, they'd left them within the vehicle.

"We've all surrendered," she repeated.

"Baffin's surrendered?" Des Grieux asked. He had trouble hearing. He wanted to order his prisoners closer, but he couldn't stand up and he didn't want them looking down at him.

"Via, Colonel Baffin wasthere,"the lieutenant said, gesturing toward the three command vehicles.

The center unit that Des Grieux hit with his main gun was little more than bulged sidewalk above the running gear.

She shook her head to clear it of memories. "The Legion's surrendered, that's what I mean," she said.

"We must've lost ten percent of our equipment from that one salvo of artillery. No point in just getting wasted by shells. There'll be other battles . . . ."

The lieutenant's voice trailed off as she considered the implications of her own words. The commo tech stared at her in cow-eyed incomprehension.

Des Grieux leaned against a slope of shattered brick. The corners were sharp.

That was good. Perhaps their jagged touch would prevent him from passing out before friendly troops arrived to collect his prisoners.

Regimental HQ was three command cars backed against a previously undamaged two-story school building. Flat cables snaked out of the vehicles, through windows and along corridors.

The combination wasn't perfect. Still, it provided Hammer's staff with their own data banks and secure commo, while permitting them some elbow room in the inevitable chaos at the end of a war—and a contract.

"Yeah, what is it?" demanded the orderly sergeant. The lobby was marked off by a low bamboo barrier. Three Han clerks sat at desks in the bullpen area, while the orderly sergeant relaxed at the rear in the splendor of his computer console. Behind the staff was a closed door marked headmaster in Hindi script and adjutant/hammer's regiment in stenciled red.

Des Grieux withdrew the hand which he'd stretched toward the throat of the Han clerk. "I'm looking for my bloody unit," he said, "and this bloody wog—"

"C'mon,c'monback,"the orderly sergeant demanded with a wave of his hand. "Been partying pretty hard?"

Des Grieux brushed a bamboo post and knocked it down as he stepped into the bullpen. The local clerks jabbered and righted the barrier.

"Wasn't a party," Des Grieux muttered. "I been in a POW camp the past week."