"The hogs'll provide maximum effort when the time comes," Broglie said. "The locals have about thirty self-propelled guns, also, but their fire direction may leave something to be desired."
"It's not," Peres said, "going t' be a lot of fun. Until the rest of our people come in."
"The battle depends on 2nd Platoon," Broglie said flatly. "You're all highly experienced, and mostly your drivers are as well. Slick, how do you feel about your driver, Pesco? He's the new man."
Des Grieux shrugged. "He'll do," he said. Des Grieux was looking at nothing in particular through the side of the tent.
Broglie stared at Des Grieux for a moment without expression. Then he resumed, "Colonel Hammer put Major Chesney in command of this operation, but it's not going to work unless 2nd does its job. That's why I'm here with you. We've got to convince the Hindis—and particularly Baffin—that the attack is real and being heavily supported by the Slammers. After the locals pull back—"
He looked grimly at the display, though its image—enemy forces trapped in a pocket while artillery hammered them into surrender—was cheerful enough for Pollyanna.
"After the Han pull back," the captain continued softly, "it's up to us to keep the planned withdrawal from turning into a genuine rout. Echo can't hold by itself if Baffin's Legion slams into them full tilt . . . and if that happens—"
Broglie smiled the hard, accepting smile of a professional describing events which would occur literally over his own dead body.
"—then Baffin can choose which of our separated flanking forces he swallows up first, can't he?"
A Han laser slashed the empty darkness from the perimeter.
"Bloody marvelous,"Peres murmured."But I suppose if they knew what they was doing, they wouldn't need us t' do it for them."
Medrassi laughed. "Dream on," he said.
"Do you all understand our mission, then?" Broglie asked. "Sergeant Peres?"
"Yes sir," Peres said with a nod.
"Sergeant Medrassi?"
"Yeah, sure. I been in worse."
"Slick?"
Des Grieux stared at the wall of the shelter. His mind was bright with the rich, soul-devouring glare of a tank's main gun.
"Sergeant Des Grieux," Broglie said. His voice was no louder than it had been a moment before,but it cut like an edge of glass."Do you understand the operation we will carry out tomorrow?"
Des Grieux looked at his commanding officer. "Chesney never came up with anything this cute," he said mildly. "This one was your baby? Sir."
