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Nichols flipped out the bipod of the Barrett and dropped to his stomach. He was heaving from the exertions of the last few hours, but he figured he could catch his breath for one decent shot. That was why they taught the technique at sniper school and he was starting to hyperventilate even as he was dropping. His heart was racing so it was a good thing the shot was only a few measly hundred yards; if it was over a thousand, and he had made shots like that, the shot had to be taken between heartbeats.

He took four more deep breaths, let the last one out in a long blow and leaned into the rifle.

* * *

Orostan shook his head as the data-link from Oldoman’s tenar went dead. “Not even maneuvering; what a stupid abat.”

The majority of his force was headed down Oakey Mountain road towards the last reported position of the human team. A few oolt had been left behind in case the humans slipped by, but the better part of six thousand Posleen were on the road with Orostan and his picked Kessentai near the front. At the front, however, were a few more of the more “expendable” oolt.

Who were trying to run through a rain of steel. The majority of the artillery available to Mosovich had not been pointed at the Rabun Lake area. The fire down there was from one battery of 155, trying to draw the attention of the Posleen off of the real moves of the team. The rest of the artillery, nearly two brigades, had been prelaid for support along their actual line of march. Some of it was set on the actual target that he had called for fire on, while the other tubes were set to fire on additional possible target points.

At his brief call for fire, the guns that were already set up simply pressed the firing button and went into reload. The other guns, those set on other Target Reference Points, were required to swing from their initial azimuth and elevation to reengage. But the system was fully automated for such a tiny adjustment and within fifteen seconds they had fired.

The time of flight was nearly forty seconds, so the Posleen force was given time to flay their surroundings for upwards of a minute before the first rounds began to impact. And then, forty seconds later, fifteen more batteries rained down.

After that it got bad.

“Their artillery is killing us,” Cholosta’an muttered. “As usual.” The God King swept his tenar back and forth as they went down the road towards the distant thunder of artillery. The habit had stood him in good stead in the face of human snipers and, because he never assumed that there were none around, he had survived when many of his age-mates did not.

“Hmmm,” Orostan said noncomittally. “It is killing some of us. But we have them definitely localized,” he added, tapping at the hologram in front of him. “They are transmitting now. Two bursts of communication have come from this hill. As soon as we crest the ridge they will be in view.”

“Yes,” Cholosta’an noted. “But so will we, Oolt’ondai. And I note that you are not maneuvering.”

“So I’m not,” Orostan said, flapping his crest in agitation at his own stupidity as the symbol for another Kessentai dropped off the hologram. “But they are quickly retreating up the hill. They should soon be out of sight and the artillery will abate. And we will soon be in position to pursue them closely; they will not be able to adjust their artillery then.”

“Are we going to try to cut them off?” Cholosta’an wondered. “Where do you think they are going?”

“I think we can directly pursue them,” Orostan commented. “The hill on this side is not heavily wooded. Once we get through this artillery we can charge the slope. Humans are slower than we are; we should be able to run them to ground.”

“That sounds… easy, Oolt’ondai,” the younger Kessentai noted, suddenly remembering that Orostan had never actually faced humans. “But are you only going to send those who are expendable into the artillery? Or are you going to run through it?”

Orostan paused momentarily in thought. “That’s not a bad question,” he admitted, looking at the three dimensional schematic. “I think, all things considered, that we’ll send the majority of the force through the notch, because that is the only route that will accept it. But you and I will swing to the east of the road, out of the main artillery fire.” He tapped the map, which gave a good view of the immediate area. “There is a hilltop here to the east. It’s still across the valley from the humans, but it will give us a view of their approximate position without going through the main fire.” He paused again as the next oolt entered the hammering artillery. The data-link of the Kessentai stayed up, but the condition marker of the unit indicated that it was, more or less, shattered with better than forty percent casualties. “And I’ll probably send a few more units around as well.”

* * *

“Sergeant Major, this is Major Ryan.”

Mosovich didn’t reply; he knew the UWB was detectable, but he could listen just fine. As long as the Posties didn’t start jamming.

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