The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 3

“Seeing the elephant,” had been used by soldiers as a euphemism for battle from a very long time back. It might even be as old as “buying the farm,” a euphemism for death.

“And you certainly did,” Mahone said. “Your combat experience is a big plus.”

She met his eyes with every appearance of candor and said, “The Frisian Defense Forces haven’t fought a serious war since the Melpomene Emergency fifteen years ago. You knew that: that’s why you enlisted in Hammer’s Regiment when you wanted to see action. I know it too, and most importantly, the General Staff in Burcana knows it. The Defense Forces are willing to pay very well for the experience that our troops haven’t gotten directly.”

Mahone smiled like a porcelain doll, smooth and perfect, and held the folder out to Ruthven. “You bought that experience dearly, Captain,” she said. “Now’s the time to cash in on your investment.”

Ruthven winced. It was a tiny movement, but Mahone caught it.

“Hank?” she said, lowering the folder while keeping it still within reach. She stroked Ruthven’s thigh again and said, “Is it your leg?”

“Yeah,” Ruthven lied. “Look, Lisa …can you come back later? I want to, ah, stand up and walk around a bit, if that’s all right. By myself.”

“Of course, Hank,” Mahone said, smiling sympathetically. “I’ll leave these here and come by this evening. If you like you can just sign them and I’ll pick them up without bothering you if you’re asleep.”

Mahone set the folder upright on the table, between the pitcher and waterglass. Straightening she glanced, apparently by coincidence, at the electronic window.

“Thank the Lord you don’t have to go back to that, right?” she said. She smiled and swept gracefully out of the room.

Ruthven continued to lie on the bed for nearly a minute after the latch clicked. Then he got up slowly and walked to the window. He’d been thinking of Sergeant Rennie. That, not his leg, had made him wince.

They’d met on Atchafalaya. It’d been Ruthven’s first day in the field, and it was Trooper Rennie then….

“Here you go, Chief,” said the driver of the jeep that’d brought Ruthven from E Company headquarters. “Last stop this run.”

It was raining and well after local midnight. This sector was under blackout conditions; water running down the inside of Ruthven’s faceshield blurred his light-enhanced vision and dripped on the tip of his nose. It was cold, colder than he’d dreamed it got on Atchafalaya, and he was more alone than he’d ever before felt in his life.

“Sir, you gotta get out,” the driver said more forcefully. “I need t’ get back to Captain Dolgosh.”

Besides the jeep’s idling fans, the only sound in the forest was rain dripping into the puddles beneath the trees. Air-plants hung in sheets from high branches, twisting and shimmering in the downpour. Ruthven couldn’t see anything human in the landscape.

“Where do I …?” he said.

Two figures came out of the blurred darkness. “Hold here, Adkins,” one of them said. “I’ll be going back with you. It won’t be long.”

“If you say so, El-Tee,” the driver said. In bright contrast to his resigned agreement he added, “Hey, it’s captain now, right? That was sure good news, sir. Nobody deserved it more!”

“Lieutenant Ruthven?” the newcomer continued brusquely, ignoring the congratulations. He was built like a fireplug and his voice rasped. “I’m Lyauty, you’re taking E/1 over from me. I thought I’d stick around long enough to introduce you to your squad leaders.”

“Ah, thank you very much, Captain,” Ruthven said. He’d heard the man he was replacing’d been promoted to the command of Company K. That’d worried him because it meant Lyauty must be a good officer. How am I going to measure up?

The trooper who’d accompanied Lyauty was looking in the direction they’d come from, watching their backtrail. He had his right hand on the grip of his 2-cm weapon; the stubby iridium barrel was cradled in the crook of his left elbow. He hadn’t spoken.

“This your gear?” Lyauty said, reaching into the back of the jeep before Ruthven could forestall him. I thought the trooper would carry the duffle bag. “Via, Lieutenant! Is this all yours? We’re in forward positions here!”

“I, ah,” Ruthven said. “Well, clean uniforms, mostly. And, ah, some food items. And the assigned equipment, of course.”

The driver snickered. “He’s got his own auger, sir,” he said.

“Right,” said Lyauty in sudden harshness. “And you let him bring it. Well, Adkins, for that you can haul his bag over to the car. I’ve got Sellars on commo watch. The two of you sort it out. Leave him a proper field kit and I’ll take the rest back to Regiment with me to store.”

“Sorry, sir,” the driver muttered. “I shoulda said something.”

“Come along, Ruthven,” Lyauty said. “Sorry about the trail, but you’ll get used to it. Say, this is Trooper Rennie. I’ve got him assigned as my runner. You can make your own choice, of course, but I’d recommend you spend a few days getting the feel of the platoon before you start making changes.”