carried old histories, old legends and myths, along with him. As often as not, the war games on Bancroft had been Cowboys and Indians, and Joe had been Sitting Bull directing the attack on Custer at Little Big Horn.
The alternative had been Space Jockeys, running around pretending he had a compact space fighter under his control, laser guns blasting alien creatures out of the universe—bug-eyed monsters with mouths large enough to eat a small human in two bites.
But there were no intelligent aliens, or any alien races that might qualify as BEMs. At least, none had ever been found, in all of the hundreds of star systems that humans had explored. No intelligent aliens, no artifacts of defunct alien civilizations. Life was found in abundance, plant and animal, but none of it smart enough to rival man.
That had always made Joe sad, when he was young, to think that humans were all alone in the galaxy. When he was young, and now—but only at times like this, when he had too much time to think.
One foot in front of the other.
—|—
Van Stossen walked with his men. He was, he knew, far too close to the front of the column, trailing along behind Echo Company with his headquarters security detachment. Dezo Parks was across the valley. The rest of the staff was divided between the two columns.
The colonel had more than enough to keep his mind occupied, off of the slogging along. He was on the radio more than he was off of it, checking with company commanders, and trying to get some idea of what that Heggie reinforced regiment was up to. First and third recon were only in occasional contact with them. After Afghan Battery was cut up, the reccers had had little choice but to play their mission as coyly as possible, darting in and out, moving quickly and in what they hoped would be unexpected directions.
The Heggies were on the move. They knew where the convoy of APCs was. Twice, flights of Boems had attacked the empty Heyers, destroying a few more each time. But there had been no ground combat. No Heggies had been able to look inside the wreckage of a Heyer and discover that it wasn't loaded with troops.
A few more hours, Stossen thought, his own wish for the night. Give us a chance to at least get those people. He didn't want to think too hard on what might have to come then. He would carry out the extreme option if he had to—even if he had to kill the researchers personally. But he hoped for a way to avoid that. That occupied more than half of his radio time, as he talked with Bal, Dezo, and Teu. Even on the move, he had them working on their mapboards and on the radio with CIC, plotting possible escape routes. Get in and out— away from this valley. Find some way to avoid interception. Worry about getting back to the lines later. Much later if necessary. And possible.
This mountain range continued almost forever, it seemed. The chain went on for nearly two thousand kilometers, with a few breaks. At one point, the chain was eight-hundred kilometers wide. Much of that land was completely unsettled, unexplored. The Accord settlers hadn't found it necessary to go traipsing through much of that, and the Schlinal occupying force certainly hadn't bothered. They were only interested in what had already been found and exploited. The 13th could move into areas that were out of reach of Schlinal air power, to terrain far too rugged for tracked vehicles to approach. That might mean abandoning the Havocs and all of the support vans, but it could be done. It would preserve most of the 13th. But that would only work, in the long run, if the Accord somehow held on and won the campaign for Jordan. If the rest of the invasion force were destroyed or forced to evacuate, all the 13th would be able to do was postpone their own capture or destruction. For months, perhaps, but certainly not long enough for the Accord to mount another, even more powerful, invasion force.
And that would mean the loss of whatever research those people had been
The alternative had been Space Jockeys, running around pretending he had a compact space fighter under his control, laser guns blasting alien creatures out of the universe—bug-eyed monsters with mouths large enough to eat a small human in two bites.
But there were no intelligent aliens, or any alien races that might qualify as BEMs. At least, none had ever been found, in all of the hundreds of star systems that humans had explored. No intelligent aliens, no artifacts of defunct alien civilizations. Life was found in abundance, plant and animal, but none of it smart enough to rival man.
That had always made Joe sad, when he was young, to think that humans were all alone in the galaxy. When he was young, and now—but only at times like this, when he had too much time to think.
One foot in front of the other.
—|—
Van Stossen walked with his men. He was, he knew, far too close to the front of the column, trailing along behind Echo Company with his headquarters security detachment. Dezo Parks was across the valley. The rest of the staff was divided between the two columns.
The colonel had more than enough to keep his mind occupied, off of the slogging along. He was on the radio more than he was off of it, checking with company commanders, and trying to get some idea of what that Heggie reinforced regiment was up to. First and third recon were only in occasional contact with them. After Afghan Battery was cut up, the reccers had had little choice but to play their mission as coyly as possible, darting in and out, moving quickly and in what they hoped would be unexpected directions.
The Heggies were on the move. They knew where the convoy of APCs was. Twice, flights of Boems had attacked the empty Heyers, destroying a few more each time. But there had been no ground combat. No Heggies had been able to look inside the wreckage of a Heyer and discover that it wasn't loaded with troops.
A few more hours, Stossen thought, his own wish for the night. Give us a chance to at least get those people. He didn't want to think too hard on what might have to come then. He would carry out the extreme option if he had to—even if he had to kill the researchers personally. But he hoped for a way to avoid that. That occupied more than half of his radio time, as he talked with Bal, Dezo, and Teu. Even on the move, he had them working on their mapboards and on the radio with CIC, plotting possible escape routes. Get in and out— away from this valley. Find some way to avoid interception. Worry about getting back to the lines later. Much later if necessary. And possible.
This mountain range continued almost forever, it seemed. The chain went on for nearly two thousand kilometers, with a few breaks. At one point, the chain was eight-hundred kilometers wide. Much of that land was completely unsettled, unexplored. The Accord settlers hadn't found it necessary to go traipsing through much of that, and the Schlinal occupying force certainly hadn't bothered. They were only interested in what had already been found and exploited. The 13th could move into areas that were out of reach of Schlinal air power, to terrain far too rugged for tracked vehicles to approach. That might mean abandoning the Havocs and all of the support vans, but it could be done. It would preserve most of the 13th. But that would only work, in the long run, if the Accord somehow held on and won the campaign for Jordan. If the rest of the invasion force were destroyed or forced to evacuate, all the 13th would be able to do was postpone their own capture or destruction. For months, perhaps, but certainly not long enough for the Accord to mount another, even more powerful, invasion force.
And that would mean the loss of whatever research those people had been
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