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pack. He took a mouthful of water, swishing it around in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed. He would make that last until after his hour of sleep. Water discipline. He couldn't be certain when they might get a chance to replenish their supplies.
    Should I eat? Joe asked himself after another long look at the horizon. He turned on the microphone pickups in the earpieces of his helmet. That way, he would be certain of hearing anything more than the sound of an insect walking, out to at least forty meters.
    Should I eat? He had to admit that he really wasn't hungry. He needed time to recall that it had been twelve hours since his last meal, back behind friendly lines. He needed to eat.
    He pulled out a meal pack and stripped the wire that would start heating the food. By the time he got the lid off, the food was as warm as it was likely to get. He ate sluggishly, too tired for either appetite or any reaction to the taste. A single meal pack was designed to provide half a day's nutritional needs, and enough moisture to allow a soldier to get it down without drinking water. Taste had not been high on the list of priorities.
    After every couple of bites, Joe would look out over the lip of his foxhole, scanning the horizon while he chewed. Once, he leaned back to look up into the sky. In the trees there was a single gap that he could see through. A few clouds, a few stars. Joe wondered whether there were any Wasps overhead, keeping watch for them, ready to respond if they were attacked. He knew better than to expect to see or hear a fighter, but it was still a way to occupy a few minutes—get through that much more of his hour's watch.
    —|—
    With the dawn, heavier cloud cover moved in from the west. Two hours later, it started to rain. Colonel Stossen and his staff gathered under a tarp that had been erected next to one of the APCs.
    "It looks like the rain will be with us most of the day," Bal Kenneck reported. "A steady soaker. The satellite data is pretty solid on this."
    "Gives us some cover," Dezo Parks said. "The men need sleep, but still..."
    "I know," Stossen said. "The general said to hurry. If we moved all day we could get... where we're going by midnight, be in position before dawn."
    The staff officers waited for Stossen to make his decision. They were all as short of sleep as their men, or more so. After nearly two minutes, the colonel shook his head.
    "We've got to have a few more hours. If we start up at noon, we might still reach our destination by dawn, at least get to the head of the valley and get the Havocs and recon platoons in position." He took a deep breath. "And find someplace for the Wasp support vans to take care of our birds." If we actually get them, he qualified silently. He was not putting a great deal of hope on that. By the time they got close to Telchuk Mountain, they would be at the extreme edge of a Wasp's range from the LZs back behind Accord lines. And there might be too much action there for the general to actually release them.
    "If we set up the Wasp people back about 150 klicks, that would ease things all around," Dezo said. "Of course, we'd have to leave a few mudders to mind their security."
    "Setting up that far off might help us deceive the Heggies as to our destination just a bit longer as well," Kenneck said. "Say, here." He pointed at the mapboard. "They might think we're heading for this town, Justice. Even if it only slows the Heggies down for ten minutes, it might make a difference."
    "Colonel Stossen!" The call came over the radio. Stossen lowered his helmet to answer.
    "Colonel, this is Sergeant Nimz, 3rd recon. We have bogies, a Heggie convoy. Looks like twelve floater trucks loaded with troops and five Novas."
    "What's your position?" Stossen asked.
    Nimz read off his map coordinates, and Stossen noted the spot on the mapboard. Third recon was on the left flank, a thousand meters off the point of the diamond.
    "Hang on a minute." Stossen raised his visor and told