The Complete Hammer's Slammers, Vol. 2 полностью

"The reason that we're not going to leave our brave allies parked here out of the way, Slick,"Broglie continued,"is that we're going to need all the help we can get. Indigenous forces may include an entire armored brigade. The Hindis are tough opponents in their own right—don't judge them by the Han we're saddled with.And Baffin's Legion by itself would be a pretty respectable opponent—even for a Slammers' battalion combat team."

"Great," Peres said, kneading savagely at the scar on the back of her left hand. "Let's do it the other way, then. We keep the hell outa the way while our indig buddies mix it with Baffin and get all this wild shooting outa their system."

"What we're going to do," Broglie said, taking charge of the discussion again, "is turn a sow's ear into a . . . nice synthetic purse, let's say. Second Platoon is going to do that."

He looked at his subordinates. "And I am, because I'm going to be with you tomorrow."

The holographic display responded to Broglie's gestures. Blue arrows labeled as units of the Black Banner Guards wedged their way across the map toward the Hindi lines. Four gray dots, individual Slammers tanks, advanced beyond the arrows like pearls on a velvet tray.

"The terrain is pretty much what we've seen in each of the valleys we crossed on the Han side of the boundary," Broglie said. "Dikes between one and two meters high. Some of them broad enough to carry a tank butdon'tcount on it. Mostly the dikes are planted with hedges that give good cover, and Hindi troops are dug into the mud of the banks. At least Hindi troops—Baffin may be stiffening them."

"Morobad's not the same," Medrassi said through the hedge of his dark, gnarled fingers. "Fighting in a city's not the same as nothing. 'Cept maybe fighting in Hell."

"Don't worry," said Broglie dismissively. "Nobody's going anywhere near that far."

He looked at his tank commanders."What the Strike Force is going to do,guys," he said. "You, me, and the Black Banner Guards . . . is move up—" blue arrows came in contact with the red symbols"—hit 'em—" the arrows flattened "—and retreat in good order, Lord willing and we all do our jobs."

"We'll doourjobs," Sergeant Peres grunted, "but where the hell's the rest of H Company?"

She raised her eyes from the horrid fascination of the holographic display, where blue symbols retreated eastward across terrain markers and red bars formed into arrows to pursue. "Where thehellis the rest of the battalion, Echo, Foxtrot, and Golf?"