The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 2

Trooper Flowers lifted himself intoFirewalker's fighting compartment. His personal gear—in a dufflebag; Flowers was too junior to have snagged large-capacity ammo cans to hold his belongings—was slung to the vehicle's side. Combat cars made room for extra personnel more easily than Carbury's remaining tanks could.

Des Grieux braced his feet against the cupola coaming and used his leg muscles to shove at a block of sandstone the size of his torso. Thrust overcame friction. The slab slid across a layer of gravel, then toppled onto H271's back deck.

The upper surfaces were clear enough now that Des Grieux could rotate the turret.

Lieutenant Carbury'sPaper Dollwas an old tank, frequently repaired. An earlier commander had painted kill rings on the stubby barrel of the main gun. Holographic screens within the fighting compartment illuminated Carbury from below. His fresh, youthful face was out of place peering from the veteran vehicle.

"Sergeant Des Grieux," the lieutenant said. His voice was pitched too high for the tone of command he wished to project. "You're acting like a fool by staying here, and you're disobeying my direct orders."

Carbury spoke directly across the twenty meters between himself and tank H271 instead of using his commo helmet. Thehooshof lift fans idling almost washed his voice away. In another few seconds, minutes at most, Des Grieux would be alone with fate.

The veteran brushed his palms against the front of his jumpsuit. He had to be careful not to rub his hands raw while moving rocks. He'd need delicate control soon, with the opening range at two kays.

"Sorry,sir,"he called."I figure the accident's my fault.It's my duty to stay with the tank since I'm the one who disabled it."

A combat car spat at the Notch. The Sincanmos, still under their camouflage film, were keeping as quiet as cats in ambush while the two platoons of armored vehicles maneuvered out of the gullies.

The Sincanmos didn't take orders real well, but they were willing to do whatever was required for a chance to kill. Des Grieux felt a momentary sympathy for the indigs, knowing what was about to happen.

But Via! if they hadn't been a bunch of stupid wogs, they'd have known, too.

They weren't his problem.

"Clam Six," said Lieutenant Kuykendall remotely, "this is Shellfish Six." She used radio, a frequency limited to the Slammers within the task force. "Are all your elements ready to move? Over."