Snarling in disbelief, muttering that he was going to relieve that insubordinate Marine, Billie looked at his string-of-pearls display. What he saw shocked him so much that if he hadn't already spat out his cigar, he might have swallowed it. The visual display clearly showed a three-brigade beachhead engulfing 34th FIST's position and overlapping onto the army battalions on the FIST's flanks. Two more brigades were on top of the ridge, trying to fight their way into the tunnel system from the rear. He stared at the display for long moments before he realized that the main a.s.sault-at least, what he still believed was the main a.s.sault-had stalled in its advance. Just because he couldn't see the follow-on forces that would exploit whatever breakthrough the initial a.s.sault forces made didn't mean they weren't there, they were just too well hidden for him to see. Of course.

"That-!" his voice twisted and whatever imprecation he made was lost in an inarticulate squeal. He switched his comm to a different circuit and snarled, "Sorca, move your reserve brigade to reinforce the MLR. The d.a.m.n Marines are pinned down by a diversionary attack." Then to a third circuit. "Koval," brusquely, "move a brigade to the MLR right now! Prepare the rest of your division to act if the Marines can't hold against that diversion." He clicked off each time before either division commander could even acknowledge the orders.

"Sturgeon," he snapped, back into the original circuit, "what is your situation? How long will it take for you to drive off that diversionary attack? I need your FIST at the MLR to defeat the main a.s.sault."

"General, this this is the main a.s.sault, the a.s.sault against the MLR is the diversion. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a major battle to fight." Sturgeon didn't wait for the Supreme Commander, but broke the connection himself. is the main a.s.sault, the a.s.sault against the MLR is the diversion. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a major battle to fight." Sturgeon didn't wait for the Supreme Commander, but broke the connection himself.

General Billie's jaws clamped so tightly he nearly cracked a tooth.

When the artillery pulled off the top of the ridge, they withdrew into the three entrances to the tunnel complex on the back side of the ridge. The guns would be worthless there, because they had to be rolled out of the access tunnels to fire-if they were fired inside the enclosed s.p.a.ces, they would cook their crews and their own electronics. Coalition forces poured down the backside of the ridge top and headed for the access tunnels. But there were only three tunnels, and the artillerymen were waiting with blasters ready for the attackers, sending far more firepower out than the attackers were able to answer.

The rebels couldn't get any of their crew-served weapons set up to fire into the access tunnels. They gave up trying after losing a dozen of them to the defenders' fire.

The attack on the reverse slope stalled.

Corporal Claypoole could hardly believe his eyes when an entire company surged up in front of his fire team's bunker and began flooding across the fifty meters of glacis straight at him.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" he shrilled, shooting each time he yelled "fire." The troops in front of him were so densely packed, he couldn't miss unless he fired over their heads, and he wasn't about to do that. he shrilled, shooting each time he yelled "fire." The troops in front of him were so densely packed, he couldn't miss unless he fired over their heads, and he wasn't about to do that.

On Claypoole's left, Lance Corporal MacIlargie fired as rapidly as he did, opening a hole in the charging company with every plasma bolt. To Claypoole's right, Lance Corporal Schultz fired so rapidly his blaster almost sounded like a gun. None of his shots missed, either.

But there were so many of them, and they had so short a distance to go before reaching the front of the bunker, there was simply no way to stop the attack. Even if the three Marines managed to wipe out the entire company charging their position, there was another company charging the defensive wall to either side, between their bunker and the bunkers of the fire teams on their flanks.

It was a hopeless situation, and that part of Claypoole's mind that wasn't occupied with fighting the desperate battle resigned itself to death-and resolved to take as many enemy soldiers with him as possible.

"Teach them to beat me me!" he shouted.

Then an explosion threw him back from the aperture and knocked the blaster from his hands. A roaring followed the explosion. Then more roaring and more and more until it sounded like it would never end. The ground shook in beat with the roaring, rolling Claypoole around the floor of the bunker, flattening him everytime he tried to gain control of himself.

Finally, the roaring stopped. Dazed, he rolled over and struggled to rise to hands and feet. He shook his head, and coughed, choking on the suddenly smoke-filled air in the bunker. Almost unconsciously, he remembered the air filters on his helmet and turned them on. He coughed a few more times, but breathing became easier. Still groggy, he slid his infra into place and looked around. He saw two large, moving blobs-Schultz and MacIlargie struggling to their feet; neither had been hit as directly by whatever it was that slammed into Claypoole. He looked at the floor, closer to himself, and found his blaster by the glow from its barrel. He scrabblingly picked it up and made his way to the aperture, expecting that any second a flechette rifle or laser rifle would poke through and kill him.

But no such thing happened, and he reached the aperture without incident. Schultz and MacIlargie were there before him. Neither was firing. Claypoole looked out and gasped in stunned disbelief.

Bodies and pieces of bodies were flung all about the glacis, covering it in meat and gore. The survivors were staggering across the rising land between the glacis and the shelf, b.u.mping into boulders, tripping on bodies and rocks, picking themselves back up if they could, or crawling to the waterline when their legs would no longer hold them up. n.o.body was shooting at them, the defenders were allowing them to depart without further abuse.

"Allah's pointed teeth," Claypoole said softly when he found his voice. "What happened?"

Neither Schultz nor MacIlargie answered, neither had any better idea than he did.

Claypoole raised Sergeant Kerr on the helmet comm. Kerr was trying to find out himself, and would let him know when he did.

It took another ten minutes, but word finally filtered down to the fire teams. Guided by the datastream from the string-of-pearls, Major General Koval had deployed the heavy weapons and artillery of the 27th Division and swept the attackers off the glacis. The foot soldiers of the division had counterattacked the two brigades stalled at the tunnel complex on the reverse side of the ridge and taken most of them prisoner.

"Sonofab.i.t.c.h," Claypoole said when Ensign Ba.s.s informed third platoon on the all-hands circuit. "The Marines have ridden to the army's rescue often enough. Anybody ever hear of the army coming to rescue the Marines?"

n.o.body in third platoon replied in the affirmative.

When Major General Koval saw how effective his counterattack had been, he smiled. He wasn't sure it was the first time the army had ever ridden to the rescue of Marines, but he was more than willing to claim that singular honor for himself and the 27th Infantry Division.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

"Why is that unit familiar to me?" General Lyons asked Admiral Porter de Gauss, his operations officer. They were in the general's mobile command trailer, embedded in some ruins on the outskirts of Ashburtonville. On the trid screen was a detailed blowup of an orbital surveillance of the coast between Phelps, Ashburtonville's port, and Pohick Bay, where the Confederation forces were trapped.

"They're from Lannoy, Davis," de Gauss replied, through a cloud of cigar smoke, using the general's first name, a privilege the admiral had when they were alone and relaxed. "They're known informally as the 'Vigilante Battalion,' probably because they have a bad reputation as a very undisciplined military unit."

"Umpf," Lyons puffed on his cigar and nodded that de Gauss should continue.

"The 4th Division, where they were a.s.signed to begin with, is a composite unit made up of all the ash and trash that wouldn't fit in anywhere else, but its commander, Major General Barksdale Sneed, has done wonders shaping it into a viable combat unit that has been providing security in our rear. This area of the coast is also within his tactical area of responsibility."

"I know Sneed," Lyons nodded, "good soldier. I've been to Lannoy, too, did you know that Porter? It was a long time ago. Rough place, Lannoy, typical frontier settlement, little law and no respect for what they do have out there. I remember one night in a bar in one of the bigger cities, I can't remember which one now, it was in the northern hemisphere, there was this fight over," he shrugged, "something, n.o.body knew what, and these two guys almost killed each other. Instead of stopping them the other patrons placed bets on who'd win." He shook his head.

"How'd it end?"

"Oh, they both collapsed from loss of blood."

De Gauss puffed on his cigar for a moment. "Well, Lannoy is not a lot different from some of the other worlds in our Coalition, General," he laughed. "To some degree we all wipe our a.s.ses with sandpaper, don't we? Or we like to think we do."

Lyons laughed. "Well, that's what the rest of the Confederation of Human Worlds thinks we do. But you know, Porter, even so, we do obey a code of honor among ourselves, don't we? We don't just disrespect each other on general principles, do we? Now what was old Sneed's beef with this MP battalion?"

"They were deployed initially here, between Phelps and Ashburtonville, here, along the main supply route from the port to protect our supply lines from infiltrators but d.a.m.n, they kept running amok among the civilians down there, abusing the women, taking things without paying, and fighting among themselves all the time. General Sneed said he had to form six general courts-martial boards in the first week they were there! Unbelievable! So he took the whole outfit and put them here." He toggled a switch and the image on the trid screen zoomed in on a portion of the coast. "It's very desolate out there," de Gauss explained.

"I know, I know, steep cliffs, high surf, high tides. But a whole battalion to watch this stretch of coast? That's diverting a lot of manpower just to get them out of the way. You know d.a.m.ned well, Porter, I've been calling in ash and trash from all over to reinforce our position. We're going to need every man jack when the big push comes. Why not just relieve the battalion commander and his subordinate officers, get some firebrands in there and shape those boys up into real soldiers? Besides, Porter, that coast is so rough n.o.body in his right mind would attempt a landing there. If Sneed wants someone to keep an eye on the area, send out some watchers and mine the beaches."

"Well, sir," de Gauss switched to a more formal form of address because he saw an argument coming, "General Sneed thinks we're vulnerable in that area. And it is is within his Tactical Area of Operations," he added, diplomatically. within his Tactical Area of Operations," he added, diplomatically.

General Lyons puffed on his cigar. "h.e.l.l's bells, Porter, we're vulnerable to sabotage everywhere. Billie's long-range recon people have been snooping and p.o.o.ping all over the place, but they're hardly capable of causing strategic mayhem. Well," he added quickly, "I respect Barksdale's judgment on how to deploy his troops, but no," Lyons shook his head, "there won't be any landings on that coast," he said with finality.

"Well, sir," de Gauss began as diplomatically as he could, "I think it's a good idea to keep an eye on that stretch of the coast out there. You've said yourself many times it's a bad idea to underestimate your enemy, and you know your history better than I do: How many times has a force been defeated because its commanders thought certain routes of attack were impracticable to a determined enemy?"

Lyons was silent for a long moment, regarding his cigar thoughtfully. "Porter, you're right, I do know my history. More important than anything else in war is that you should know your opponent. Once you get inside your enemy's head you've got him by the gonads, Porter. And I have Jason Billie right where I want him. He won't try an end-run. He's going to come straight at us. That's the way his mind works. I've known that guy for years, and the only original thoughts he's ever had were how to get himself promoted by backstabbing officers who were better leaders than he is. No, no, no, Porter, that area is secure," he gestured at the trid and puffed on his cigar. "Besides," he continued after a moment, "suppose they do put a force ash.o.r.e there. h.e.l.l, three nuns and a boy could stop them by throwing rocks down the cliffs! And it's not that far away from our main force, Porter. If by some miracle a force was able to get ash.o.r.e out there intact, we could rush in reinforcements and destroy them before they ever got off the beaches."

"So you think the Seventh MPs are sufficient to secure that area?" de Gauss asked carefully.

"Yes, Porter, and I'm thinking of telling Barksdale to withdraw all but a company. We'll put them to patrolling the streets here, keep the troops out of the wine cellars," Lyons laughed.

"If you can keep the MPs out of the wine cellars." They both laughed. "Well, sir, there is one more thing about this issue and I feel compelled to advise you on it."

"And that is, Porter?" Lyons squinted at his operations officer through the cigar smoke wreathing his head.

"Billie has a Confederation Marine contingent with his force. Now the Marines, as you know, are specially trained to make difficult landings, either from s.p.a.ce or from land-based points. Remember how they landed on Diamunde during the war there? Straight in over the sea and right smack into the enemy's positions at Oppalia. I was with the fleet when the landing force was launched. They didn't expect us there either. Sir," he leaned forward eagerly, "let's put a reconnaissance company out there, back them up with air and artillery and some of those armored fighting vehicles we still have-they're good artillery platforms when dug in properly-designate some units from our reserve force to reinforce them if the enemy tries to establish a beachhead. Just a precaution, sir. It'd let me sleep better."

Lyons had not partic.i.p.ated in the Diamundian campaign. He waved smoke away from his face with a hand before making a reply. "Porter, if it was anybody else over there but Jason Billie, I'd be worried, yes, I would. But we need those troops here for when Billie's big push comes. And Marines? He doesn't have many, and believe me, those he does he'll misuse. They had a good thing going with that attempted breakout the day the Marines arrived, that made me very nervous, Porter, I have to admit, but Billie called them back. No, no, no, Porter, there will be no seaborne invasion on that coastline. Now tell Sneed to withdraw the Seventh MPs, all but a company. I'll make it a personal priority to see that those rascals shape up. And Porter? You're my operations officer, you you don't get any sleep," he laughed. don't get any sleep," he laughed.

"Yessir." Admiral Porter smiled and stood up, saluted his commander and turned to go. He had given in to the inevitable, he'd done his best as a staff officer to apprise his commander of what he thought was a dangerous condition. But the decision had been made and it would be carried out. Besides, General Lyons was probably right. Still, as he made his way back to the underground bunker that served as the army's tactical operations center, he could not shake the feeling that General Lyons had just made a serious mistake.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

There are three age-old maxims about military life that every soldier learns by heart: "In the Beginning Was the Word-and It Was Changed."

"Hurry Up and Wait."

And finally, if not heeded, the one that leads young soldiers inevitably into irreversible disaster, "Never Volunteer."

Now even in the best organized and led armies, these maxims apply to some degree at some time. Unfortunately for Donnie and Charlette Caloon, the 441st Transportation Company of the Loudon Rifles, Loudon County Militia, was not one of the best organized or led units in the Coalition armed forces.

The convoy had only proceeded a short way toward the Bibbsville aerial port when it stopped without warning and the vehicles, which stretched along the road for more than three kilometers, just sat there in the sweltering heat. The minutes ticked by into an hour and the troops in Donnie's bus became restless. A sergeant got out and walked toward the head of the convoy, to see what the delay was, but n.o.body he could reach knew.

"Hurry up and wait!" some wag shouted and everyone laughed. Charlette had heard that before but she wasn't about to let on that she'd had prior service on the enemy side.

At last Captain Carhart stepped up into their bus, perspiration dripping from the ends of his mustache. "Listen up!" he announced. Instead of silence his words were met with a hubbub of voices and catcalls. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit! Clean the c.r.a.p out of your ears and shut your traps!" he shouted, obviously in a very ill humor. That brought silence. He pa.s.sed a hand across his forehead to catch the sweat. "Get your a.s.ses out of this vehicle and into that field over yonder! The colonel wants to talk to everyone." The troops groaned and groused and obeyed reluctantly. "Come on! Come on, get a move on! You want to stay in here and fry, that's all right with me," he said over his shoulder, turning disgustedly and stepping off the bus. When the whole company had dismounted from their vehicles, Captain Carhart led them into the field, where the rest of the regiment was forming a huge circle.

"Must be the regimental commander is going to talk to us," Charlette whispered.

"I don't even know what he looks like," Donnie whispered back, "h.e.l.l's bells, I never even seen seen a colonel before!" a colonel before!"

The commander of the Loudon Rifles stood on a ration box inside the circle formed by his troops. He was an older man with a pot belly and a disheveled uniform. His forehead ran with sweat that dribbled down over his nose and chin as he spoke. His voice was high-pitched and penetrating. "This here is the first time this whole regiment has been together at the same time," he began, "so some of you new troops prob'ly ain't never seen me before. I am Colonel Cosiatani Francis, your regimental commander, so take a good look at me and remember this handsome face." As he looked around at the men staring up at him the sweat on his uniform was visible as little dark spots.

"We just got a advisory from the Bibbsville Aerial Port that no flights, repeat, no flights to Ashburtonville are available at this time." A huge groan rose from the a.s.sembled troops. "That's due to their diversion to higher-priority commitments, and the fact that the enemy has air superiority in certain areas in and around the seat of the war, which makes flying in there hazardous to life and limb." This information was greeted with silence. Until then, most of the troops had not thought very seriously about the fact that there was a real war in progress and they were headed into it.

"Now," Colonel Francis continued, "I also got a priority message from Gen'rel Lyons's chief of staff that they want us at Ashburtonville as soon as possible, and we are going to obey that order. This poses a dilemma, don't it? G.o.dd.a.m.n, men, what this army don't screw up it s.h.i.+ts on."

"Ain't that the truth," someone muttered loudly.

"Now how do you suppose we're gonna comply with this order, huh?" Colonel Francis shouted, narrowing his eyes and searching in the crowd for the man who had made the insolent remark. Everyone just stared back at him innocently. "Well, how'dye 'spose, you Mr. Wisea.s.s?" Colonel Francis demanded.

"Gonna swim over, Colonel?" someone asked. Everyone laughed.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n, boy, you is either gonna be a G.o.dd.a.m.n gen'rel someday or remain a buck-a.s.sed private forever, I ain't decided yet," Colonel Francis shouted, "but you guessed it! We're going by s.h.i.+p! Now, it's going to take me a while to scare up the transport, so battalion and independent company commanders, break out your tentage and set up by units in this here field. Company commanders, see to your training schedules, 'cause I suspect we'll be here a spell. Well, okay, don't just stand there scratching yer behinds, get to it! Captain Carhart, you come with me!" He stepped down from the ration box shaking his head in disgust and motioned for his operations officer to join him, and shouldering his way through the troops, he headed for his command car. The last anyone saw of him for a long time, he was driving off in the direction of Bibbsville.

"Geez," Donnie muttered, "this is bad news, Charlette. d.a.m.n, we thought we'd be quit of this place! Now what if that d.a.m.n Flannigan finds out we're here? d.a.m.n!"

"Don't worry, Donnie," Charlette smiled, gesturing at the troops dispersing to set up their tents, "we're surrounded by a whole regiment of men trained to kill."

"Yeah," Donnie groaned, "that's just what bothers me, 'cause from what I seen of this screwed up outfit, it's hard to figure out just who they are gonna kill!"

After only a few minutes into their first meeting, Lionel C. Ifrit, captain of the containers.h.i.+p Bullwhip, Bullwhip, began thinking of killing his visitor, powering up his vessel, and steaming off into parts unknown, cargo or no cargo. "You, my dear chap, are going to ruin the merchants of Loudon County, you know that, don't you?" he seethed. began thinking of killing his visitor, powering up his vessel, and steaming off into parts unknown, cargo or no cargo. "You, my dear chap, are going to ruin the merchants of Loudon County, you know that, don't you?" he seethed.

"I don't give a flying f.u.c.k about the merchants of Loudon County, Cap'n. For Chrissakes, I'm I'm a G.o.dd.a.m.n merchant! But I am commandeering this s.h.i.+p, you are loading my men and equipment on her, and we're proceeding under full power north to Phelps where you'll unload us and we shall proceed direct to Ashburtonville and join Gen'rel Lyons's army. You'll be compensated by the Coalition." a G.o.dd.a.m.n merchant! But I am commandeering this s.h.i.+p, you are loading my men and equipment on her, and we're proceeding under full power north to Phelps where you'll unload us and we shall proceed direct to Ashburtonville and join Gen'rel Lyons's army. You'll be compensated by the Coalition."

The Bullwhip Bullwhip had only been in port a few days when Colonel Francis stormed aboard with his men and demanded of her captain that she be turned over to the service of the Coalition and set sail for the war zone. For weeks before her arrival the merchants of Loudon County had been bringing their crops and goods to the port, and the warehouses were full. "You will have a revolution on your hands, Colonel, when the businessmen of this region discover you are preventing them from s.h.i.+pping their crops and goods to market," Captain Ifrit said. had only been in port a few days when Colonel Francis stormed aboard with his men and demanded of her captain that she be turned over to the service of the Coalition and set sail for the war zone. For weeks before her arrival the merchants of Loudon County had been bringing their crops and goods to the port, and the warehouses were full. "You will have a revolution on your hands, Colonel, when the businessmen of this region discover you are preventing them from s.h.i.+pping their crops and goods to market," Captain Ifrit said.

"We'll deal with them when the war is over, Captain. Now, tomorrow, at three hours sharp, my troops will begin arriving and you will load them and their equipment on board this s.h.i.+p. To be sure of yer cooperation, I am leaving a squad of my men on her until then. If you try to pull any funny stuff you'll be shot, and your first officer will be promoted to captain of this vessel."

Captain Ifrit blanched and puffed out his cheeks. "The men who own this s.h.i.+pping line will not be pleased at this-this-act of piracy, Colonel! You know there's a good chance we'll be attacked and sunk on the way to Phelps, don't you?"

Colonel Francis sighed and nodded his head wearily. Then he straightened up and pointed his finger at Captain Ifrit and said, "Cap'n, you send a message to the owners of this tub and tell them you bin drafted into the service of the Coalition. And don't feel so bad about maybe being sunk. If this scow goes down, I'll be standing there right next to you and we can sing 'Nearer My G.o.d to Thee' together as the waves roll over us. See you in the morning."

Since the Bullwhip Bullwhip was not designed to carry pa.s.sengers, the accommodations for Colonel Francis's troops were makes.h.i.+ft at best, but because the weather was good and the seas calm at that season, they spent most of their time topside. Donnie and Charlette, as a married couple, were a.s.signed a tiny stateroom for the voyage, but since they had not yet been fully integrated into their company's roster, they spent their waking hours in the s.h.i.+p's galley. "Don't worry," Lieutenant Tamle had told them jovially, "KP builds men, as we say in the army." was not designed to carry pa.s.sengers, the accommodations for Colonel Francis's troops were makes.h.i.+ft at best, but because the weather was good and the seas calm at that season, they spent most of their time topside. Donnie and Charlette, as a married couple, were a.s.signed a tiny stateroom for the voyage, but since they had not yet been fully integrated into their company's roster, they spent their waking hours in the s.h.i.+p's galley. "Don't worry," Lieutenant Tamle had told them jovially, "KP builds men, as we say in the army."

Their "stateroom" was actually the tiny quarters belonging to the s.h.i.+p's engineer, a man known to the crew as "Gabby," probably because he seldom spoke to anyone and then only to insult them with nasty vulgarities. The only exceptions were the captain and the first mate, but otherwise everyone was subject to his outbursts, particularly the unwelcome military personnel and especially Donnie and Charlette for evicting him from his quarters per Colonel Francis's orders and over Captain Ifrit's objections. Gabby went out of his way to hara.s.s the couple when they were on duty in the galley. He even came by their stateroom at night, pretending to be looking for things he'd left behind when he moved into a bunk in the crew's compartment. His favorite greeting was "Gettin' any yet?"

Kitchen police was grueling duty, but Donnie and Charlette soon fell into the routine of the scut work in a s.h.i.+p's galley feeding a crew of twenty and the 661 troopers of the Loudon Rifles. They were too tired when off duty to complain about the work. Besides, it took Charlette's mind off what she was going to do once they arrived in Ashburtonville, where she would be forced further into her role as a reluctant traitor. At any event, the bouts of morning sickness subsided during the voyage. Maybe it was the salt air or maybe, she prayed, they were due to a false pregnancy.

Within ten days of her departure, the Bullwhip Bullwhip's powerful turbines had brought her to within sight of the coast about a hundred kilometers south of Phelps. That put her well within range of the subatmospheric fighter-bombers supporting the Coalition forces on Pohick Bay, and Colonel Francis therefore ordered everyone below decks during daylight hours. All efforts were taken to disguise the fact that the vessel was transporting military personnel and equipment.

On the eleventh day at sea, just at dawn, Donnie and Charlette were at their posts in the s.h.i.+p's galley, Donnie setting up the mess line and Charlette already cleaning pots and pans the cooks had used to prepare breakfast. The troops ate their meals in three s.h.i.+fts because the galley was too small to accommodate them all at one time, but the Bullwhip Bullwhip's crew ate first and that was the worst time of the day for the military KPs because the civilians resented the army's having taken over their vessel.

"Hey, Donnie, you screwed your wife yet today?" Gabby bellowed that morning, as he did every morning when he was waiting for the serving line to begin. The routine was beginning to wear thin on Donnie, but Gabby was a big, burly man whom no one felt moved to challenge. His arms were decorated with big tattoos of naked dancing girls. By flexing his biceps he could make their private parts seem to move and he enjoyed teasing Donnie with the display whenever he could.

But that morning Donnie decided he'd had enough of Gabby's teasing. When the big man appeared in front of him in the serving line, holding out his tray for the scrambled eggs, he flexed his biceps and said, "When you gonna give me some of that quail, boy?" Donnie seized a long aluminum serving fork and thrust it straight into Gabby's face. One hand clapped to his cheek, Gabby dropped his tray in astonishment and was about to climb over the serving line when the first plasma bolt from a Confederation fighter-bomber ripped through the galley. The last thing Donnie Caloon saw of Gabby replayed over and over again in his mind afterward in slow motion: the naked dancing girl on his left bicep seemed to flex her hips up and down as the bolt sizzled through Gabby's left elbow and cut him in two just below the ribs. It continued on down the serving line, killing three more men before burning its way through the bulkhead and out onto the deck. The following aircraft put its fire just below the Bullwhip Bullwhip's waterline.

Charlette stood frozen at the sink staring in horror at the steaming mess all over the galley deck. Donnie seized her by an arm. "We gotta get outta here!" he shouted, dragging her toward a hatch leading onto the port side of the s.h.i.+p. The air all about them was filled with screaming and explosions as the s.h.i.+p suddenly lurched forward and then stopped dead in the water, its power plant out of commission. It seemed like only seconds before the two fighters made their second pa.s.s on the stalled vessel, raking her with high-energy cannon fire fore and aft. The deck under their feet began slowly tilting to port as the galley filled with choking black smoke.

Most of the regiment had been caught below decks when the attack commenced. As the survivors began making their way topside they were horrified to see the crewmen abandoning s.h.i.+p! Since the Bullwhip Bullwhip was a commercial vessel not rated to carry pa.s.sengers, she only had escape gear for her crew. A riot was in full swing between the soldiers and the crewmen for control of the s.h.i.+p's two lifeboats when the was a commercial vessel not rated to carry pa.s.sengers, she only had escape gear for her crew. A riot was in full swing between the soldiers and the crewmen for control of the s.h.i.+p's two lifeboats when the Bullwhip Bullwhip rolled to port and capsized. She lay there upside down for less than a minute before going down by her stern. rolled to port and capsized. She lay there upside down for less than a minute before going down by her stern.

No one ever knew if Colonel Francis and Captain Ifrit got to sing "Nearer My G.o.d to Thee" before descending with the Bullwhip Bullwhip to the bottom of the sea. For days after she sank bodies mixed with wreckage washed ash.o.r.e. But some of those who drifted onto the beaches were not dead. to the bottom of the sea. For days after she sank bodies mixed with wreckage washed ash.o.r.e. But some of those who drifted onto the beaches were not dead.

Even in the most disciplined armies, especially in wartime, when commanders' attentions are focused elsewhere, individuals, occasionally whole units, will get out of hand. Such a unit was the 7th Independent Military Police Battalion from Lannoy, a world on the fringes of the Coalition's quadrant of Human s.p.a.ce. The 7th was known informally as the "Vigilante Battalion." Lannoy, a world only recently settled, was typical of the frontiers of s.p.a.ce, wild places where wild men and women gathered, generally to avoid prosecutions awaiting them in more civilized places. The commander of the division to which the 7th Independent MP Battalion was a.s.signed when war broke out on Ravenette soon determined he could do without them, so the unit was a.s.signed "coast watch" duty to get them out of the way and put them in some spa.r.s.ely populated, remote location where the only trouble they could cause anybody would be to themselves.