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New Covenant pilot. “He doesn't understand that we've never left our wounded, and never will.”
    “Don't worry, sir,” she'd replied, pulling a double-edged commando knife out of her boot sheath. “Either we all go, or we all stay.”
    “That's the stuff,” he'd answered. “Thank you.” And with that, Colonel Bull Strom had died, just as he had lived, surrounded by his beloved brigade. A little bit of her had died with him.
    “All right,” she said, “you five: Rigg, Dudley, Alvarez, Su, and Mantu. Set up interlocking fields of fire and keep your eyes open. I'm counting on you. Dudley you're in charge.”
    “Gotcha, Corp ... okay, you heard her ... let's get organized.”
    Then, with her remaining fifteen troopers strung out in skirmish line behind her, Flynn headed for HQ. If it was under attack she knew it was her duty to help. But now they were a couple of blocks away and she couldn't figure out what to do. She'd watched wave after wave of Zonies fling themselves against the brigade's defenses, only to be cut down in bloody heaps. Gradually, the bodies had piled up until they became useful platforms from which the next wave of Zonies could launch their attack. Because the light-sensitive camo suits continued to function after their owners were dead, the piles of bodies seemed to come and go according to the light of battle, adding a gruesome, surreal quality to the scene.
    As far as Flynn could tell, the brigade was easily holding its own without any help from her. In fact, from the occasional snatches of conversation that leaked through the jamming, it seemed like no contest. She was about to order her troops back, when suddenly the jamming dropped out for a moment and a frantic voice broke into the command channel. “Watch out! They're comin’ outta the sewers! Oh god, there's hundreds of ’em!” The words were cut off by a long, drawn-out scream that made her blood run cold. There was a moment of shocked silence, before a voice Flynn recognized as Captain Wang's cut in, issuing crisp, clear orders in the same calm voice he used to deliver his dreaded lectures on sexual hygiene. What happened to Major Malik? she wondered. Maybe the Zonies got him. If so, the attack wasn't a total loss.
    Flynn ducked back behind the corner she'd been peeking around and tried to think. Damn! It was all her fault. The Colonel had told her to warn them about the sewers ... and she'd failed. Damn, damn, damn.
    “What now, Corp?” The voice belonged to Trooper Stickley, better known as Sticks. He had a round, moon-like face, trusting brown eyes, and a gentle personality. As a result, people tended to underestimate him. A serious mistake, if they tried to push him around. Sticks was rated “Instructor” in unarmed combat. Looking at him, Flynn was immediately struck by the fact that he wasn't worried at all. Sticks just knelt there waiting for her to tell him what to do. His faith in her was like a transfusion of strength and determination. With it came an idea just weird enough to work.
    “We're gonna do what we always do, Sticks,” Flynn said, getting up with a grin. “We're gonna kick some ass!” Moving quickly from one trooper to the next, she provided each with enough information to do their part, plus someone else's should they be hit. Once everyone had been briefed, she watched them take off, and timed them to their assigned stations. Then, with Sticks at her side, she ran full out for the large sewer grating that marked the middle of the nearest intersection. As she ran, she ignored the Zonies who continued to attack the perimeter a few hundred yards ahead. If they saw her, she would know soon enough.
    Reaching the square grating, they dropped to their knees, bare hands frantically scraping at the accumulated garbage covering it. The putrid smell coming out of the sewer made her gag, forcing her to gulp the contents of her stomach back down, but making her happy nonetheless. It was the smell of success. Once the