The Wolf Worlds by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch Page A

in the Galaxy who could see a Mantis soldier until the knife went between the third and fourth ribs. Sten was probably right.
    The canyon opened up into a broad, green, high-walled valley.
    Caves dotted the cliff walls, and there had been possibly half a dozen natural artesian wells in the valley.
    Ffillips' troopers, broken down into their three-man (or
    -woman) squads, were strategically positioned. Antitrack positions lined the canyon and the high walls probably had dug-in antiaircraft positions.
    And the valley was now completely dark, from the fighting positions to Ffillips' own headquarters-mess cave. Good light discipline.
    Since no track or soldier could attack down that narrow canyon, Ffillips' mercs could have held the position for a century, assuming they weren't hit with nukes or human wave assaults.
    Except that their wells had been destroyed.
    Ffillips finished reading the contract by hand-cupped penlight and shook her head.
    "I think not, Colonel. Frankly, I could not. in all conscience, offer my young men and women an offer as penurious as this one."
    Sten shrugged and looked around the cave. He saw a fist-sized boulder, picked it up, and walked over to a nearby well.
    He let go, and they all heard the echoing thuds of the rock as it clattered down into dryness. Sten walked back and sat down across from Ffillips. Alex was looking very interestedly at one canyon wall, trying to keep from laughing.
    Finally the silver-haired woman said, with obvious reluctance,
    "Lift the siege for us. Then give us three days to re-supply."
    Sten smiled.
    Sten's first analysis was that mercenaries work for pay, or for beloved/feared/respected leaders, or possibly even for idealism.
    Ho. Ho. Ho. None of the latter two applied to these tax collectors.
    Second analysis, as he and Alex crouched in the brush behind the "tax collector's" headquarters, was that no matter how high they promoted him, he better never get so lazy, luxury-loving, and sloppy.
    The setup was pretty plush. Five tracks, which should've been on line, were semicircled in front of the headquarters. The headquarters unit was three com tracks, two soft-skinned computer vehicles, one security-monitor half-track, and one extended-base track that was the unit leader's quarters.
    Most of the tracks had their rear ramps dropped, and light gleamed through the small camp. What perimeter human guards there were had been positioned well within the light circle, so Sten knew they'd be night-blind.
    Sten kicked Alex's outstretched foot. "Time to take the palace, Sergeant." Alex rolled to his feet, and the two cat-footed forward toward the headquarters.
    Sten was within two meters of the first guard when he was spotted. The man's projectile weapon came off his shoulder— on his clottin' shoulder!—to somewhere between present and port arms.
    "Halt." Bored challenge.
    Sten didn't answer.
    Simultaneous: guard realizing two men were coming in on him/his weapon coming down/hand toward trigger/Sten inside his guard.
    Very smoothly… step in… right hand back, left forward.
    Hipsnap and Sten's cupped right hand shot forward. It crashed into the sentry's chin, and his head snapped back. The man was probably dead, but Sten continued the attack, one sidestep and the edge of the hand straight across the man's larynx. Catch the body and ease it to the ground.
    And then they were both running.
    Alex rolled a fire-grenade into the security-monitor halftrack, flat-dove as another sentry fired a burst into his own camp, rounds whining off armor, and was back on his feet just as an alarmed tech peered out of one of the computer vehicles, saw Alex, and yanked the door closed.
    Alex's fingers grabbed the door, centimeters from slamming, and three-gee muscles yanked. The door skrawked completely off its hinges and went spinning away.
    One of the techs inside was grabbing for a pistol. Alex one-handed a console through the air at him. It crunched the man's chest, and he sprawled, blood spurting