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bending quickly to catch something that looked like a metal spider before it hit the floor. As he straightened, he met Torin’s eye and nodded before handing the spider back to the Marine who’d dropped it.
    â€œLooks like it’s under control,” she said. Across the loading bay, Captain Rose raised a hand. “And I’m needed. Be seeing you, Werst.”
    â€œYou can join us out in front any time, Gunny.”
    Gunnery sergeants did not need the approval of lance coporals, but Torin was Human enough she appreciated the thought all the way back across the bay.
    â€œIt’s like supervising a kindergarten class,” the captain sighed as she joined him. “Tutone’s just gone to broker a deal with Captain Yun’s First concerning pudding cups.”
    â€œPudding cups, sir?”
    â€œYun thinks their mess got too many vanilla cups.” He scratched at a patch of old scar tissue on his jaw and sighed. “We don’t wait well, do we?”
    â€œNo, sir. But we’ll snap to once the fight starts.”
    â€œGunny!” Captain Rose leaned in so close she could feel his breath hot against her cheek. The only way to be heard over the Others’ artillery and their own answering it. “Any word from Heerik’s number three squad?”
    â€œNo, sir!”
    â€œShould have sent a runner when the PCUs went.”
    â€œYes, sir!” A lot of “should haves” got missed with the company pinned down under small arms and artillery fire while attempting to take an entrenched position. Blasted communication units made the list even longer.
    â€œI have to know . . .”
    They ducked together as something impacted against the other side of their hastily thrown up earthworks and blew with a whomph that rattled Torin’s teeth.
    Coughing and spitting out mouthfuls of finely pulverized dirt, the captain glared at her with bloodshot eyes. “You think they knew we were coming?” he bellowed as the dust settled.
    â€œSeem to have baked a cake, sir.”
    He spat again and rubbed dirt off the readout in his sleeve. The various items actually woven into their combats were pretty much the only wireless tech working; even their slates were down. “God fukking damnit, I’m not directing an air strike down on my own fukking Marines. Find that squad, Gunny! And when you find it, move it back!”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Balancing safety and speed and concluding she had no time for the former, Torin raced toward the squad’s last known position. They were out front, every one knew that, but no one knew how far out front and where they’d gone to ground. If they’d gone to ground. If they were still alive.
    She jumped a body, got cursed out by the corpsman working on a slightly more intact body beside it, recognized the pale orange hair, and froze momentarily as another mortar hit. The Others were blowing nothing bigger than their own Em223s. Small stuff from the firing position, significantly bigger boom for those at the other end of the trajectory.
    As soon as the earth stopped moving, she started running again.
    â€œGunny!” One of the new recruits. “What are we supposed to do?”
    â€œWait for air support,” she snapped without breaking stride.
    And right on cue, three Marine 774s screamed by with two of the enemy’s planes in close pursuit.
    Torin half heard the whistle, shouted, “Down!” with no hope of being heard, and hit the dirt as at least half a payload landed a little too close. The earthworks shuddered as the blast wave hit, then slowly toppled inward. Torin tried to scrabble clear and got tangled with a warm body. She managed to get her arms over her head to make an air pocket as the dirt rained down.
    Fuk!
    Rocks in the mix slammed against body parts not protected by her vest. She took a hard hit to the calf, then strong hands grabbed her ankle and began to haul her clear. Digging in