When the Devil Dances

Horner was smiling. Which as practically everyone in the world knew at this point meant the fecal matter had really and truly hit the rotary air impeller. “You are to cross the Genesee River and go into direct support mode for the ACS and the Ten Thousand. They are pinned down on the ridge that parallels Mount Hope Avenue. Cross the river, climb the ridge and give them on call direct fire support.”

“General,” the colonel protested, thinking about all of the really bad aspects of that order, “you do realize that… well…”

He paused for a second to collect his thoughts. “Well, for one thing, the rounds aren’t exactly howitzer rounds, General. If they do hit something they’re going to make an atomic fireball about a quarter the size of the Hiroshima bomb; it’s going to be noticeable on seismometers from here to Tibet. Second, they go for a looong ways; there’s a couple of fortress cities out there. New York comes to mind. Last but not least, we’re not a tank for all we look like one. We don’t have any armor over our tracks or on the gun mantlet. In other words, we’re vulnerable to Posleen fire. And if we sustain a critical ammunition hit you’re going to have an explosion that makes the Shanghai Strike look like a firecracker and you’ll lose everyone in the pocket. And most of the forces on this side of the river.”

He waited for a moment as Horner appeared to be waiting for him to go on.

“Is that it?” Horner asked.

“Well, yes, sir.”

“Okay. You forgot that without infantry support the Posleen would be able to close in on either side and attack you from underneath. Which, all things considered, really is your most vulnerable direction. You don’t have anti-Posleen secondary weapons.”

“Yes, sir,” the colonel said. “You have a point there.”

“Also that unless the Ten Thousand pulls back, you’ll almost surely crush them in large numbers. And that moving you through the assaulting corps is not going to be what you would call easy.”

“No, sir, it won’t,” the colonel admitted.

“You also missed the more significant aspect of your possible demise,” the general continued inexorably. “If you sustain a critical ammunition hit, the resulting ground level explosion will be on the order of seventy kilotons. While this will, undoubtedly, kill Posleen for miles around, it will also create a very large crater. This crater, based upon the subsurface structure, will probably dam both the Genesee River and the Erie Canal. While the large area of marsh that will result will somewhat impede the Posleen, they will then have crossing points over both water structures. Just at the time when the local defense forces will probably be in full-scale rout to Buffalo.”

The colonel suddenly recalled the tiny and almost forgotten datum that Horner’s original education was engineering. “Ah. That’s… not a point I had considered, sir.”

“Colonel, listen very carefully,” Horner said with a broad smile, speaking as if to a child. “Move your vehicle over to the Genesee Valley. Cross the river. Engage the Posleen in direct fire mode in support of the ACS on the ridge. Fire your weapons low. As often as possible, engage concentrations on hilltops that you can impact; if there are occasional detonations of your antimatter munitions this is an unfortunate side effect for which neither of us can be held responsible. As you move up, the Ten Thousand will shift left to cover that flank. The ACS will provide you with close infantry support. Use the slope of the ground for hull down fire; it is, I am told, almost perfect for it. Try not to hit New York City. Is this understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the colonel said quietly. He was beginning to get the impression that this was not entirely the general’s idea. And that the general was not particularly happy with it.

“And Colonel Wagoner.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t get hit. Especially in your magazines.”

“I’ll try, sir. Sir? One question?”

“Yes?” Horner snapped.

“The Ten Thousand are getting out of my way. What about the ACS? What if we roll over one of them?”

Horner paused and for just a moment frowned slightly, a sign of amusement. “Colonel, have you ever watched the Coyote and Road Runner?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, if you run over an ACS, he’ll just have to dig himself out. There’s one over there painted like a green demon; you have my personal permission to show him why you call infantry ‘crunchies.’ ”

CHAPTER 8 Near Seed Lake, GA, United States, Sol III 1147 EDT Sunday September 13, 2009 ad

“Good cosslain,” Cholosta’an said, rubbing the superior normal on the back. The half oolt had returned from its first “patrol” on its own and from all appearances had made all the turns perfectly.