Intrepid

24

Captain Jack Montoya, only recent to the Royal USMC, sat on a box, and stared into the cool darkness of the cave. The young boy of about ten who showed it to him first had proudly introduced it as his ''fort.''

Before today, it had protected the kid from nothing worse than the noon sun … and his parents' sudden list of midday chores. Its main advantage had been its closeness to a swimming hole. Until this morning, that the tunnel's entrance was well hidden in the root ball of a broom tree had not been a concern.

It was now.

Jack wondered why so much of Panda got dug. Then one of the young men who'd joined him spotted something at his feet and kicked it aside. A local mole or gopher or some such digging critter left such things behind when it dug. The local got kind of coy as to whether it was the sweat of the thing, or its vomit or poop or whatever. Still, if it came in contact with some bacteria in the soil, what came of it all was an ugly, smelly black wad that pharmaceutical companies and perfumeries paid good money for. It financed a major chunk of this colony.

That money source, coupled with the local's laid-back way of farming, was a main reason why folks didn't mind if their kids spent a lot of free time digging. And Jack had to agree; he'd never met a boy who didn't like messing around in dirt.

Jack stared into the darkness to better see the picture being painted on his eyeball. A tiny nano buzzed on the far side of the swamp, its picture relayed by a series of tight-beams that had, at least until now, apparently passed unnoticed by the armed mob halted at the south end of the causeway.

There was no question that Princess Kris of Wardhaven had many failings, but once again, her inveterate addiction to fancy gadgets was coming in handy. Certainly, it was giving Jack a leg up on whoever it was over there. The hostiles looked to be reduced to the Mark I eyeball and Mark I, mod 0 ear.

Unfortunately, they appeared to be connected to a quite canny version 1.0 human brain. Colonel Cortez had smelled the ambush … and called a stop to his advance.

Still, he hadn't done anything, such as lobbing a rocket at Marine sniper nests, mortaring Jack's local reserves, or otherwise reacting to Jack's deployment. Apparently neither Cortez's eyeballs nor Thorpe's overhead sensors had given away Jack's defensive array. Cortez could smell the danger in this place but couldn't put his finger on any specific targets.

And, fortunately for Jack and his troops, Cortez did not appear to have a whole lot of spare ammunition to use blasting away at anyplace that looked like a good target.

Not for the first time, Jack said a silent prayer to whoever sent these folks out to grab what they thought was easy prey. Not that what Jack had seen of the locals gave him any impression that, absent outside help, they would have gone happily along with whatever these Cortez and Thorpe guys were selling.

The farmers and craftsmen Jack had met since landing liked the hand they'd dealt themselves and had been doing a fair job of organizing matters to put things back the way they liked. A few were none too happy to have helpful Marines drop out of the sky.

Jack remembered where he'd parked the landers and intended to march right back onto them just as quickly as he could.

He hoped Kris did not have other plans. Having been thrown, run, or ushered off of a half dozen planets in the last couple of years, she should be used to the idea of helping folks out, then getting out of their way … very, very quickly.

Oops, matters are finally getting organized over there.

Jack hadn't really needed those two idiots saluting what had to be the lead officer. The guy hung around the only rig painted green and with enough cubic volume to be a command vehicle. If that wasn't Cortez, it was his evil twin.

Jack had seriously considered changing the battle plan when he concluded he had a solid ID on Colonel Cortez. Still, Kris had been against turning this into a bloodbath if it could be avoided. Jack held to Kris's plan. Colonel Cortez would live to see this evening's sunset. If he didn't fall and break his neck.

Now everyone was running, jogging, or trotting. Jack held his breath and waited to see if Cortez had stayed within the decision box Kris's command group was betting on.

One company-size force moved onto the causeway at double time. They halted where the crude effort at mine clearing had come to an end. More local hostages were pushed ahead of them. Yep, mine clearing would be done the old-fashioned way, human foot by human foot. Gunny had warned about that possibility. So much for the old rules of civilized war.

Jack reached into his jacket pocket and removed the little box with the bright red button. At present, it was safely protected by a plastic cover. Jack left the cover on. It looked to be about an hour before he would need it.

Now trucks started moving. The white berets rode or walked alongside the rigs, eyes and rifles focused mainly on the water beside the road. Some studied the trees. There were no shouts of discovery, only quiet broken by the yells of NCOs snapping at troopers who weren't sufficiently attentive.

Jack ignored the troops and eyed the civilian trucks loaded with machine guns and troopers. He saw a dozen different makes or models. No three looked alike. Maintenance would be a bear for that collection of clattering spare parts. And spare parts were what they would need in about half an hour.

Waiting for nearly fifteen minutes before pulling up the rear were a dozen trucks of uniformly green and thoroughly military demeanor. Jack zoomed in. These troops were fully armored and loaded for bear. If Jack's command of Marines and a whole lot of eager civilians had to shoot it out with that company of hard cases, matters would get ugly in a hurry.

Jack measured the distance from hunched-over hostages in the vanguard to the last green rig only just pulling onto the causeway. About a klick.

Jack was glad nothing in Kris's plan involved his force trying to swallow that bunch down whole. Cortez knew he was going into country that just begged for an ambush. He was offering anyone stupid enough to take a swing at him what would look to any amateur like such a perfect chance.

Jack's Marines had intercepted two groups of such eager, untrained locals. Half a squad of his Marines were tied down keeping dozens of them quiet not a klick from Jack's ''fort.''

On the causeway, the hostages crossed the midpoint of the swamp. They looked beat. The sun was now past noon. The humidity, heat, and bugs looked to have about done them in.

Jack watched as the white berets crossed the midpoint. Then he flipped the cover off his red button and pushed it.