Stark's Command Read Online Free PDF Page A

troops. On Earth they'd run right or left, but here they'll go up the ridge. Easier in the low gravity. So we've got to hold the top of that ridge. Right? Wrong. That won't work. Not enough time to dig in and anyone on that ridge will be exposed to fire by every enemy soldier coming this way. Besides, I've got to stop all the apes running away, and my reserve battalion won't get here before some of them do. Just me and a lot of scared-witless soldiers. A whole lot of scared soldiers. Back here, I can handle them as they start coming over that ridge, one or two at a time. Yeah, much better odds. But how to stop them? A rousing speech? Stark snorted in self-derision. I wouldn't know how. So what do I know?
    I know how to tell people what to do.
    A figure came panting over the crest of the ridge, movements jerky with fatigue and panic. Stark tagged the soldier's symbol, coming up with an instant ID. "Corporal Watkins!" The figure spasmed in surprise, staring toward where Stark stood. "Take up position on the right." Stark pointed, armored finger designating the spot.
    "What? But—"
    "Watkins, get your butt in position! Now!" The figure finally moved, instinctively obedient though still uncertain. Two more soldiers came scrambling into Stark's view. "Jurgen! Rodriguez! On the left! By that rock."
    "There's an enemy army right behind us! We can't stop them!"
    "You haven't tried! Get into position."
    "Who the hell are—? Stark? You're Stark?"
    "Yeah, I'm Stark. You gonna stand here with me or leave me to fight alone?"
    The two privates began moving, descending the reverse slope to where Stark had pointed them. Another soldier came right behind them. "Steinberg! Get over there with Corporal Watkins!"
    "I don't—"
    "Shut up and get over there!" The words had barely cleared Stark's throat when two more soldiers came into sight, but both of these paused on the top of the ridge, facing back toward the enemy. "Sergeant Ulithi, Sergeant Van Buskirk! Get down here!"
    "We're going to stop them," Van Buskirk insisted, standing steady even though his voice shook with anger and frustration.
    "Damn straight," Stark approved. "But do it down here. One soldier at a time." He felt something to his left, where Jurgen and Rodriguez waited by their rock, an unsteadiness, as if the soldiers were reeds wavering in a strong wind. "Sergeant Ulithi, get down on my left and hold those soldiers and any others I send you. Van Buskirk, same on the right with Corporal Watkins."
    "Roger. They won't go nowhere, Stark." The Sergeants moved, and Stark's small line steadied a little more. More American soldiers now, coming in larger numbers. Too many to hail individually. Stark grabbed the ones he could, building up concentrations of troops who had stopped running. Gradually, they stiffened, out of sight of the enemy, surrounded by friends, with increasing numbers of Sergeants giving them alternate doses of encouragement and browbeating. Gradually, they became an armed force again instead of a beaten mob.
    "Commander Stark?" Another voice, breathing heavily, from a symbol approaching from the rear. "Fourth Battalion. Sergeant Milheim commanding."
    Stark broke his concentration on the situation to his front, switching scans and juggling responsibilities frantically. "Nice to see you. You got the positions in your Tacs?"
    "Yeah, but I don't like them."
    "What—?" Stark bit off the word, remembering Vic's anger at being ordered around like a new recruit. He's not some brainless, green private. He's a smart, senior enlisted. I'm not perfect, and I don't have time to think everything through the way a guy with less responsibilities can. I damn well better remember all that. "What's the problem?" he continued, his tone clipped but respectful.
    Milheim pointed along the ridge. "You want my battalion deployed in thirds. One third here in the center, and the others to the left and right. I want to put most of my people right here in the middle and only a company on each