Until Relieved by Rick Shelley Page A

something?" Joe asked. He started forward again, very slowly, watching the ground to make certain that he did not step on anything that might prove noisy.
    "I'm not sure. It didn't sound like an animal though. I don't see anything on IR or visual, but I know I heard something ."
    "Hang easy, Prof. I'm on my way."
    It was unlike Mort to get so excited. "The Professor," as nearly everyone in the company called him, was usually the calmest man around. Heggies? More civilians? Or just an overactive imagination? Joe wondered as he moved through the trees. He hardly paid attention to those thoughts though. It was more important to assume that Mort had heard a Heggie, and to concentrate on anything that the night might tell him.
    The trees were no longer the bulky shapes with cones of dirt around their bases that had predominated around the LZs. Most of these trees were thinner and taller, angular rather than full. The leaves were much smaller as well, also long and thin. These trees would provide less cover in a firefight. That was the important consideration.
    Mort was prone on the ground, taking what little cover one of those thin trees might offer—any cover was better than none. His rifle barrel extended out on the right, the muzzle no more than twenty centimeters off of the ground. Mort had his finger over the trigger guard though, not on the trigger itself.
    "Hear any more?" Joe asked as he got down on the ground at Mort's left. To preserve the silence, they whispered over the radio even though their shoulders were almost touching. Joe settled in behind his rifle as well, just in case there was something to shoot at in front of them.
    "Not a thing," Mort admitted. "But I know there's something, or some one , out there, Sarge. I've been through this before. I'm not dreaming. You know me better than that."
    "Can you pinpoint the location any?"
    "As close as I can tell, the direction is right down the barrel of my zipper. I can't tell about distance. Not too far, maybe." His rifle was pointed at an angle of 45 degrees to the line of march.
    Joe did hesitate for a moment, but they dared not just lie there all night. They could ill afford even a short delay.
    "We'll have to go out and take a look," he said. "You and I might as well get on with it." That was far from doctrine. The squad leader had no business going out on this sort of prowl. By the book, Joe should have stayed put and sent privates out. Privates were, by definition, more expendable than noncommissioned officers, but...
    "You go right. I'll go left," Joe said. "Slow and easy."
    Joe held his breath as he got to his feet, listening as much for any noises that he or Mort might make as for a repetition of whatever Mort had heard before. The night was almost too silent. Joe realized, with some surprise, that he had not heard any insect sounds even. Porter did have insects. He had seen plenty of them during the day. But they did not chatter or chirp, or make any of the other sounds that he expected from bugs.
    "Go," Joe whispered when he saw that Mort was in position.
    Joe took his first step with exaggerated caution, angling just a little to the left. It would not do for him to get too far from Mort. The object was for them to be able to pincer anyone between them, and to be close enough to do something about it in conceit, quickly. Mutual support. If there was someone lurking, they would try to take care of him, or them, silently. If possible.
    Although they moved steadily, each step felt as if it took minutes. Joe would look at the ground where he intended to put his foot, then slide it forward, only slowly transferring his weight, ready to pull back if he felt anything brittle under his boot. Then he would wait, straining for any hint of noise or movement in the area that Mort had indicated. Then it was time for another wary step forward. It seemed more protracted than it actually was. There was some urgency about this. A few meters away, Mort was moving just as