At the moment Kal was on patrol, doing what General Kiel called the "drunkard's walk." That was a random course to discourage orbital bombardment by Kezdai spearfall. So far, the night had been a quiet one, but Kal was certain that was about to change.

And change drastically.

Kiel leaned back in his command chair and put his hands behind his head, watching the silent jungle move past outside the Bolo. "You know, it's not often anymore we have some quiet time like this."

"This is unusual," Kal agreed. "But I have a concern that you might be safer at forward command post."

Kiel laughed. "If the Kezdai attack, there's no place on this planet I'm going to be safer than right here."

"Statistically not accurate," Kal said. "All Bolo are targets of the Kezdai."

Again Kiel laughed. "All right, I'll give you that. Let me rephrase my answer. I feel safer here. Besides, there's no better place for me to observe the coming battle and direct troops."

"Accurate," Kal said simply.

"You think I'm intruding here?" Kiel asked the Bolo. "Afraid I'm going to second-guess some of your decisions?"

"I have no such fears," Kal said. "I was only concerned for your safety, as is my duty. If you must know, I actually enjoy having you in the command chair."

"Thank you," Kiel said, relaxing even more as Kal plowed through the jungle. Outside the terrain looked rough and uneven. Inside, thanks to the anti-grav around the Command Compartment, the ride was as smooth as a flat road.

"So what do you think of the new Mark x.x.xIVs?" Kiel asked.

"I am not fully briefed on their exact specifications," Kal said. "But they appear to be quite capable."

"And their firepower?" Kiel asked. "You know anything about that?"

"Formidable," Kal said simply.

Kiel knew, from his briefing with Veck, what the specs were on the x.x.xIV's h.e.l.lrails, but he wanted to know what Kal knew. "Give me your best guess on what the h.e.l.lrails can do?"

"My limited understanding," Kal said, "puts the firepower of the h.e.l.lrails at 90 megatons per second, and a firing rate of one to one-point-two minutes per rail, depending on the thermal coupling from the plasma, the cooling mix used, and the exact efficiency of the cooling system."

"Impressive," Kiel said. He was surprised that even though Kal had never seen a h.e.l.lrail fired, Kal had hit the specs that Major Veck had shown him earlier exactly.

"What did you base your answer on?" Kiel asked.

"On the thermal imaging of the weapon and the configuration and dimensions of the external casing," Kal said.

"Okay, I'm impressed," Kiel said. "From my short briefing on the weapons, you hit it on the money."

"Good." Kal said.

"Maybe there's something I didn't get in my short briefing from Major Veck that you might help me with."

"I will attempt to do so," Kal said. "But again, I do not have accurate information from a direct download."

"Oh, I understand that," Kal said. "Just give me your impressions of the new Bolos."

"The Mark x.x.xIV's direct neural interface provides a unique ability for them to meld closely with their commanders in combat."

Kiel snorted. "That interface idea has fallen in and out of favor among command so many times since the x.x.xII, I can't count the number of changes."

"Accurate," Kal said.

"Current academy teaching," Kiel went on, "is on the fence when it comes to the interface, leaving decisions as to its use up to individual commanders. Would you have wanted me to use the interface had it been available?"

"There is much to be said about the combination of Bolo capabilities with human ferocity," Kal said. "Arguably, a mix of the two would create the ultimate fighting machine."

"That wasn't my question," Kiel said. "Answer my question."

"I must admit," Kal said, "that becoming closer to one's commander is appealing. However-"

"Here comes the truth," Kiel said, laughing.

"-I prefer precision to savagery in most combat operations. I would welcome a melding of the minds in certain times and places, but not every time. And not every place."

"Because why?" Kal asked.

"As I said, I would welcome the opportunity to meld with a commander such as you," Kal said. "But my observation of humans has led me to believe that such a meld might not be universally desirable."

"But that's not all, is it?" Kiel asked. "What is your personal reason for not wanting such a meld?"

"I have stated it," Kal said. "While humans have many desirable and superior characteristics, consistent quality control is not one of them."

"Too true," Kiel said, laughing. "Far, far too true."

Major Veck sat in his command chair inside his Bolo, studying the screens in front of him. As before, nothing seemed to be happening. His Bolo, a.k.a. RVR, a.k.a. "Rover," was running a standard patrol pattern. Otherwise there was no activity at all on this front. And no matter what General Kiel's Bolo had said, Veck doubted there would be much. The Kezdai were just too afraid of the x.x.xIVs to attack.

That meant command was going to have to get off its b.u.t.t and order the x.x.xIVs to do the attacking, instead of waiting. Then they could get off this jungle planet and on to the important battle against the Melconians.

"Lieutenant Lighton is taking fire from a small contingent of Toro tanks," Rover reported.

At the same time on the main screen in front of Veck the location of the attack on a grid map was shown.

"What's your status, Lighton?" Veck asked over the secure com channel.

Lighton's voice came back clearly. "We knocked out two of the Toros. We've sustained slight damage to our forward armor."

Veck could see on his screen that another group of alien Toro tanks was approaching Lighton's position. But there was no sign of an incoming fleet or any other action across the rest of the front.

So why were the Kezdai tossing Toro tanks at Bolos? Without backing them up with other action. That made no sense to Veck at all. But very little about this stupid side-trip of a war did.

"Time to reach Lieutenant Lighton's position?" Veck asked Rover.

"Ten minutes, six seconds," Rover said.

"Too long," Veck said. "Take us to counter-gravity sprint mode. I want to be in position in less than one minute."

"That will require that I lower my screens," Rover said.

"I understand how this works," Veck said.

"My hyper-heuristic programming indicates a high statistical probability that we will encounter heavy enemy fire while our screens are down."

"You and your d.a.m.ned statistics," Veck swore. "Just get moving and follow my orders. Now!"

He was so fed up with this mumbo jumbo of Bolos' predicting the future. These Bolos were weapons and nothing more. They followed his orders or else.

Rover said nothing in response. The panel in front of Veck showed their screens dropping. An instant later the Bolo lifted from the ground and shot off. Veck couldn't feel the speed inside the command center, but he could certainly see it as the jungle flashed past them.

A few small sh.e.l.ls burst against the side armor, but in the thirty-seven seconds it took Rover to get them into position facing the flank of the Toro tanks, they sustained no damage.

The panel indicated that their screens were back up.

Some of the Toros turned to engage Veck. As they did, they exposed themselves to Lighton and he picked them off like flies off flypaper.

The explosion of Kezdai tanks filled the screens with dust and smoke as Rover quickly dispatched the remaining Toros.

"Nice job, Lighton," Veck said as Lighton's young face came up on the screen.

It felt good to Veck to finally be in a battle. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, and his breath was quick.

"Thanks, Major," Lighton said, frowning as he studied a screen off to the side of the communication camera. "But didn't that seem just a little too easy?"

"It was easy," Veck said. "Nothing can stand up against us."

"If they had pressed on," Lighton said, the frown filling his face, "instead of turning and exposing themselves, we might have taken some damage. And they had no orbital support at all."

"Probably meant to be that way," Veck said.

"How's that?" Lighton asked.

"More than likely they are completely scared of these x.x.xIVs. This little thrust was probably nothing more than an attempt to gather intelligence about them."

"Makes sense," Lighton said.

"My guess is they are going to be withdrawing, and just wanted to take as much information with them as they could."

"If they're smart, they'll leave the planet entirely," Lighton said.

Veck laughed. "Got that right. But who said they were smart?"

Lieutenant Orren stood in the hatch of the cargo bay of the freighter Cannon Beach staring up at the wonderful lines and shapes of his new Bolo. The ma.s.sive machine entirely filled the cavernous hold, and he knew every inch of it, every detail, every spec. Yet he stood there as if seeing it for the very first time, staring at it like he was a kid again, staring at it just as he had done at the combine all those years ago. He admired the Bolo's plating, its ma.s.sive treads, and the h.e.l.lrails along its sides.

The entire machine was a thing of beauty to him.

Finally, he stepped forward into the cargo bay and stopped. "Bolo ZGY, I am Lieutenant David Orren. I am here to officially take command."

Orren knew the Bolo was running a diagnostic check of him, making one hundred percent sure he was who he said he was with a complete range of tests. If an imposter had uttered those words, the Bolo would have killed him.

With a snap, the personnel hatch in the side of the Bolo opened. "Welcome Lieutenant David Orren," the Bolo said.

Remaining formal, Orren said, "Thank you."

He quickly stepped forward and climbed up through the personnel hatch and into the command compartment. It was decorated the same as the Bolo he'd trained in. A couch against one wall, the other wall filled with a ma.s.sive command center of screens and panels that formed a U-shape around one single padded, high-backed chair. His command chair.

Reverently he sat down in the chair and let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He was home.

"Well, Bolo ZGY, do you have a preference for a name?"

"I have none, Lieutenant Orren," the Bolo said, its voice calm and flat and in a way soothing.

"Then how about I call you Ziggy?" Orren asked. "And you can call me Orren."

"That would be perfect, Orren," Ziggy said.

Orren let himself slowly look around the command area, taking in every detail. Then he turned back to the main board. The screens were black and all weapons showed off-line, as they should in a cargo bay of a freighter in s.p.a.ce.

"Well, Ziggy," Orren asked, "do you feel you're ready for combat?"

"Despite my lack of field trials," Ziggy said, "I feel confident of my ability to function up to expectations."

"Good," Orren said.

"No Mark x.x.xIV has ever shown a major malfunction or defect during field trials," Ziggy said. "I doubt very much that I would have been the first. While a wise precaution, the trials are largely a formality, a chance for Bolo and commander to become familiar with one another."

"Well then," Orren said, "we're just going to have to fast-track the familiarity part right here. I'll spend as much time as I can with you before our arrival at Delas, and I'll wear my command headset whenever I'm in another area of the ship. How does that sound to you?"

"That should suffice admirably," Ziggy said.

"Are you disappointed we're going to Delas instead of the Melconian front?" Orren asked.

"It is an honor to serve," Ziggy said. "I will perform to the best of my abilities no matter where I am sent."

"Standard answer," Orren laughed. "But how do you really feel about it?"

"I am confident," Ziggy said, "that we will eventually see combat in both theaters of war."

"a.s.suming we survive Delas," Orren said.

"I always a.s.sume survival," Ziggy said. "After all, it's impossible for me to carry out contingency plans in the event of my own destruction."

"True," Orren said, again laughing. "Being dead does stop such plans I suppose."