!
In its day, an Abrams’ forward turret armor could stop any direct-fire round on Earth. But this wasn’t its day, and it wasn’t on Earth. The Kodiak’s 145-millimeter smooth bore was the most powerful tank gun ever built.
Our round spit through the Abrams’ skin, liquefying itself and the armor it penetrated, then exploding molten metal rain into the tank’s interior. The crew probably never felt a thing, and a fireball erupted up into the night. The ammo in the Abrams’ bustle, isolated behind a blast door that couldn’t withstand the heat and overpressure our shot injected into the crew compartment, detonated. The thin steel ammunition compartment roof disintegrated like kitchen foil.
I kept the sight on the hulk as it burned. Not because I doubted the kill. All tankers share the nightmare of burning alive in the steel shroud that was supposed to protect us. So I hoped somebody, even somebody who had been trying to kill us, would make it out of that oven alive. Nobody did.
“Tanks. Ten o’clock!”
Our turret, and others, spun. More rounds sped downrange.
One minute later, nothing moved downrange but undulating, bright smudges in the thermal that marked five enemy tanks aflame.
Suarez screamed at the burning hulks, “Ha! You like our silver bullets, amigos?”
Somebody else whooped.
I asked the platoon, “Damage?”
“We got nicked, sir. But we’re still good to go.” That was Pine.
Somebody in Arcuno’s tank said, “I think Muto broke his wrist, skipper.”
Now I was the skipper. But I didn’t feel like it. I just felt sick. The turret stunk of burned propellant, sweat, and fear. The odds against us were still five to one, we weren’t going anywhere, and we would run out of silver bullets before the bad guys ran out of tanks.
In the cavern, Kit touched my shoulder. “The storm’s moving off. Tomorrow we can go deeper beyond the Line.”
I cocked my head at the diminishing thunder, and kept it cocked as I looked around the cavern. We were alone for the first time since the grezz got away. “Why should we bother?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “What do you mean?”
“You loaded a practice round when I called for a trank. Cutler didn’t miss. That pissant penetrator either glanced off that grezzen or just poked it like a sewing pin.”
She stared at me, then looked away, then down at the cavern floor and scuffed it with her boot toe.
I waited. “Well?”
“It’s no different than your little charade with Cutler and the .50 caliber. Head space adjustment my ass.”
It was my turn to stare. Then I shook my head. “No. What I did stopped a gratuitous slaughter that I didn’t sign up for. You agreed to help Cutler do exactly what he was trying to do, then sabotaged him. In fact, he was doing less than you agreed to. It turns out he doesn’t even want to kill the animal.”
She pointed toward the living quarters, while she fixed me with the coldest stare I had ever seen. “Parker, that man can’tbe allowed to take a grezzen alive.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why not?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I can’t tell you right now.”
I wanted to believe her. And I didn’t like Cutler’s paranoid foolishness any better than I liked hers. But earning Cutler’s bonus was the only way I could buy a life. That meant we needed her as a guide. “If you screw this up for Cutler, he’ll just hire somebody else. Help him get his live grezzen. When the time comes, tell him whatever it is that’s bothering you. I’ll back you up.”
She cocked her head, and fixed me with those blue eyes. “And if he won’t budge?”
I took a deep breath. “If it comes to that, I’ll make him budge. Out here, he’s no tycoon. There are two of us and one of him.” I could stop short of crossing the mutiny bridge later, if I didn’t buy whatever she had to say. But first I had to get us to the bridge.
She asked, “What about Zhondro?”
“Zhondro will be fine with what I tell
In its day, an Abrams’ forward turret armor could stop any direct-fire round on Earth. But this wasn’t its day, and it wasn’t on Earth. The Kodiak’s 145-millimeter smooth bore was the most powerful tank gun ever built.
Our round spit through the Abrams’ skin, liquefying itself and the armor it penetrated, then exploding molten metal rain into the tank’s interior. The crew probably never felt a thing, and a fireball erupted up into the night. The ammo in the Abrams’ bustle, isolated behind a blast door that couldn’t withstand the heat and overpressure our shot injected into the crew compartment, detonated. The thin steel ammunition compartment roof disintegrated like kitchen foil.
I kept the sight on the hulk as it burned. Not because I doubted the kill. All tankers share the nightmare of burning alive in the steel shroud that was supposed to protect us. So I hoped somebody, even somebody who had been trying to kill us, would make it out of that oven alive. Nobody did.
“Tanks. Ten o’clock!”
Our turret, and others, spun. More rounds sped downrange.
One minute later, nothing moved downrange but undulating, bright smudges in the thermal that marked five enemy tanks aflame.
Suarez screamed at the burning hulks, “Ha! You like our silver bullets, amigos?”
Somebody else whooped.
I asked the platoon, “Damage?”
“We got nicked, sir. But we’re still good to go.” That was Pine.
Somebody in Arcuno’s tank said, “I think Muto broke his wrist, skipper.”
Now I was the skipper. But I didn’t feel like it. I just felt sick. The turret stunk of burned propellant, sweat, and fear. The odds against us were still five to one, we weren’t going anywhere, and we would run out of silver bullets before the bad guys ran out of tanks.
In the cavern, Kit touched my shoulder. “The storm’s moving off. Tomorrow we can go deeper beyond the Line.”
I cocked my head at the diminishing thunder, and kept it cocked as I looked around the cavern. We were alone for the first time since the grezz got away. “Why should we bother?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “What do you mean?”
“You loaded a practice round when I called for a trank. Cutler didn’t miss. That pissant penetrator either glanced off that grezzen or just poked it like a sewing pin.”
She stared at me, then looked away, then down at the cavern floor and scuffed it with her boot toe.
I waited. “Well?”
“It’s no different than your little charade with Cutler and the .50 caliber. Head space adjustment my ass.”
It was my turn to stare. Then I shook my head. “No. What I did stopped a gratuitous slaughter that I didn’t sign up for. You agreed to help Cutler do exactly what he was trying to do, then sabotaged him. In fact, he was doing less than you agreed to. It turns out he doesn’t even want to kill the animal.”
She pointed toward the living quarters, while she fixed me with the coldest stare I had ever seen. “Parker, that man can’tbe allowed to take a grezzen alive.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why not?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I can’t tell you right now.”
I wanted to believe her. And I didn’t like Cutler’s paranoid foolishness any better than I liked hers. But earning Cutler’s bonus was the only way I could buy a life. That meant we needed her as a guide. “If you screw this up for Cutler, he’ll just hire somebody else. Help him get his live grezzen. When the time comes, tell him whatever it is that’s bothering you. I’ll back you up.”
She cocked her head, and fixed me with those blue eyes. “And if he won’t budge?”
I took a deep breath. “If it comes to that, I’ll make him budge. Out here, he’s no tycoon. There are two of us and one of him.” I could stop short of crossing the mutiny bridge later, if I didn’t buy whatever she had to say. But first I had to get us to the bridge.
She asked, “What about Zhondro?”
“Zhondro will be fine with what I tell
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