When the Devil Dances

“We could try to send a flying column out of Unicoi Gap,” the planning officer said. “We’ve got a battalion of mech up there. There’s no report of heavy Posleen presence near Helen. If they didn’t run into one of these heavy patrols they could, possibly, make it to Sautee or so. South of Sautee there’s indications of the outer forces of this globe landing.”

“Send a battalion in in support,” Bernard said. “And have them send out a company. Tell them to move down to the vicinity of Helen, get in a good hide and stand by for further orders.”

“I’ll get on it, sir,” the planning officer said, heading over to the operations side.

“I hope I haven’t just sent out a forlorn hope,” Bernard commented.

“Well, we already did that, sir,” Ryan said, looking at the map. “The question is whether we can get them back.”

* * *

Mosovich looked down the hill and shook his head. There was a very steep, very high road cut then the road, which was clear at the moment, then another cut down to the river, then the river and on the far side a short bank and dense underbrush. The best bet, again, would be to go down the hill fast, but that would mean doing a rappel. The distance wasn’t far enough for their static rappel systems to engage effectively. And they didn’t have a rope that was long enough to loop around a tree. So when they got down, the rope would dangle there as a marker. So they’d have to take it in stages.

“Mueller, rope,” he hissed, pulling on heavy leather gloves.

“Gotcha,” Mueller said, pulling the line out of his rucksack and shaking it out. The Army green line was the sort of stuff to make a serious climber blanch, simple braided nylon with a very high stretch rate and rather high bulk, but it had a number of features in its favor. One of them was that when doubled over you could “hand rappel” if the slope wasn’t absolutely sheer. “Good” climbing ropes were much thinner than the green line and had smoother outer layers. The benefit of the first was reduced bulk and the benefit of the second was reduced wear from “rubbing.” But there was no way anyone could slow themselves going down a slope with “good” line without using, at the least, a “figure-eight” rig, and a ladder rig was better. So, using the “bad” green line, the team would not have to stop and get full climbing gear out. Just hold on and hope for the best.

Mueller flipped the rope around a fairly well rooted hickory and slithered both ends so that they were even. If they had any sense at all they would have quick knotted it as well; if anyone lost one of the doubled ropes they would be holding thin air, but sometimes quick knots got stuck and while if the rope slipped one of them might die, if the rope got spotted all of them probably would.

“Me first,” Mosovich said, picking the rope up and slipping it under his thigh.

“Let me go,” Mueller said. “I’m the heaviest; it’ll be the best test.”

“Nope,” Mosovich said with a chuckle. “We’re going in order of weight. I want as many of us as possible to make it down. You go last. And carry the Barrettt.”

“Screw you, Jake,” Mueller growled. He put one hand on the rope. “Just remember who’s at the top with the knife.”

“I will,” the sergeant major said. He leaned back and started to walk backwards down the slope.

Although he probably could have gotten away with a simple “hand” rappel, holding onto the rope with both hands, Mosovich had set up a “body” rappel with the rope run between his thighs and up over his shoulder. It was much safer and more controllable and he was, frankly, getting a little tired of living on the edge. As it was, it worked well. He went down the slope about seventy feet, well short of the end of the rope and better than two thirds of the way to the road, and found a sort of ledge where a vein of quartz created a shelf. There was just enough room to stand with relative ease. Mountain laurels grew all around it so there was some concealment, and another largish tree jutted out of the soil-covered cliff. This tree wasn’t quite as robust as the one Mueller had secured the rope to above and was on a worse slope, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Sister Mary came next, fast and smoothly. They had been training together for nearly six months, but she had come with mountain climbing experience from somewhere and she showed it now. She actually bounded down the slope, something Mosovic preferred not to do when on a body rappel, and still managed not to dislodge much in the way of debris. She hit the ledge a bit hard — the quartz was friable and rotten — and dislodged a fairly large rock. But it hit in the mud of the drainage ditch along the road and disappeared into the muck; no harm done.