making plenty enough to fork over a few more dollars for ammo. I already got the work-around so we can fire on auto all week long if we want. That Corporal in Sanchez's Squad hacked it up yesterday. You need a download?"
"Yeah," Vic chuckled. "Thanks. You ever follow the rules, Ethan?"
"Only when they make sense to me."
"That must not be too often."
The only thing worse than the lectures were the patrols, trying to pacify chunks of territory where villages now consisted of marks on their maps that simply memorialized burned-out foundations and lost lives. Oil pipelines were blown up with such regularity that headquarters produced a standardized form to report the damage, every incident increasing the oil company demands for soldiers to be placed on guard every two meters along the lines, demands that headquarters had so far resisted, not out of any pure motives but simply because there weren't enough soldiers available to implement the ridiculous scheme.
Stark found himself covering twice as much territory as the rest of his Squad, trying to keep them dispersed enough to avoid providing tempting targets but close enough together that stragglers couldn't be picked off unnoticed in the thick vegetation. "Murphy, you worthless excuse for a soldier, if you drop behind again I'll shoot you and save the in-digs the trouble."
"I think I got a blister, Sarge," Murphy complained.
"You want me to call your mother so she can carry you for the rest of the patrol? Keep up with the Squad!" Stark checked the other soldiers' positions on his HUD, slamming a fist against the side of his helmet in exasperation as the display froze momentarily. The rudimentary field maintenance apparently jarred the right components as the symbology flickered, then jumped into current data. "Billings! I told you to patrol on the right flank. That doesn't mean heading for the damn beach six klicks in that direction! Get back in with the rest of us."
"Sergeant?" Corporal Desoto called. "My readouts keep breaking up, and comms with the Squad are erratic. You read me?"
"Yeah. I got you that time, Pablo." Desoto, up on point ahead of the rest of the Squad, had good reason to worry. The heavy, wet vegetation seemed cleverly designed to block the web of communications circuits that knitted the Squad together. The problem made patrolling even more hazardous than usual, besides generating hysterics among the officers sitting in the rear who wanted to watch the war go down from first-person perspective by monitoring the vid from individual soldiers.
A dull thump echoed among the greenery. Stark dropped into the mat of rotting leaves and mud that made up the ground around here, scanning for any casualties. A small patch of rough-textured grass tufted in front of his faceplate, bringing dark memories to mind and a shine of sweat to Stark's face. He reached to flatten the grass with one armored palm, grinding it viciously into the muck even as he called out to his Squad. "What was that? Anybody hit?" Silence reigned while Stark's HUD sat in the state of frozen idiocy that meant he'd lost comms with the other soldiers. "Ah, hell." Standing despite the possible threat so he could reestablish comms, Stark called again, this time generating a response.
"Land mine." Gomez spat the words. "I tripped it."
"You hurt?"
"Only my pride. The jungle absorbed the blast. At least it's gooid for something besides smelling like hell."
"Sarge?" Carter called. "I got one here, too. Spotted the trip wire while I was down after Gomez's mine went off."
"Let me call in." Stark switched circuits. "This is Third Squad, Second Platoon, Bravo Company. We've encountered a minefield."
"Roger." Headquarters didn't sound excited, which was reasonable given the number of mines lying around the island. "Continue patrol."
"We'd like the path swept for mines first. Our own counter measure gear is on loan to First Battalion."
"We know," headquarters responded in that tone that meant they'd
"Yeah," Vic chuckled. "Thanks. You ever follow the rules, Ethan?"
"Only when they make sense to me."
"That must not be too often."
The only thing worse than the lectures were the patrols, trying to pacify chunks of territory where villages now consisted of marks on their maps that simply memorialized burned-out foundations and lost lives. Oil pipelines were blown up with such regularity that headquarters produced a standardized form to report the damage, every incident increasing the oil company demands for soldiers to be placed on guard every two meters along the lines, demands that headquarters had so far resisted, not out of any pure motives but simply because there weren't enough soldiers available to implement the ridiculous scheme.
Stark found himself covering twice as much territory as the rest of his Squad, trying to keep them dispersed enough to avoid providing tempting targets but close enough together that stragglers couldn't be picked off unnoticed in the thick vegetation. "Murphy, you worthless excuse for a soldier, if you drop behind again I'll shoot you and save the in-digs the trouble."
"I think I got a blister, Sarge," Murphy complained.
"You want me to call your mother so she can carry you for the rest of the patrol? Keep up with the Squad!" Stark checked the other soldiers' positions on his HUD, slamming a fist against the side of his helmet in exasperation as the display froze momentarily. The rudimentary field maintenance apparently jarred the right components as the symbology flickered, then jumped into current data. "Billings! I told you to patrol on the right flank. That doesn't mean heading for the damn beach six klicks in that direction! Get back in with the rest of us."
"Sergeant?" Corporal Desoto called. "My readouts keep breaking up, and comms with the Squad are erratic. You read me?"
"Yeah. I got you that time, Pablo." Desoto, up on point ahead of the rest of the Squad, had good reason to worry. The heavy, wet vegetation seemed cleverly designed to block the web of communications circuits that knitted the Squad together. The problem made patrolling even more hazardous than usual, besides generating hysterics among the officers sitting in the rear who wanted to watch the war go down from first-person perspective by monitoring the vid from individual soldiers.
A dull thump echoed among the greenery. Stark dropped into the mat of rotting leaves and mud that made up the ground around here, scanning for any casualties. A small patch of rough-textured grass tufted in front of his faceplate, bringing dark memories to mind and a shine of sweat to Stark's face. He reached to flatten the grass with one armored palm, grinding it viciously into the muck even as he called out to his Squad. "What was that? Anybody hit?" Silence reigned while Stark's HUD sat in the state of frozen idiocy that meant he'd lost comms with the other soldiers. "Ah, hell." Standing despite the possible threat so he could reestablish comms, Stark called again, this time generating a response.
"Land mine." Gomez spat the words. "I tripped it."
"You hurt?"
"Only my pride. The jungle absorbed the blast. At least it's gooid for something besides smelling like hell."
"Sarge?" Carter called. "I got one here, too. Spotted the trip wire while I was down after Gomez's mine went off."
"Let me call in." Stark switched circuits. "This is Third Squad, Second Platoon, Bravo Company. We've encountered a minefield."
"Roger." Headquarters didn't sound excited, which was reasonable given the number of mines lying around the island. "Continue patrol."
"We'd like the path swept for mines first. Our own counter measure gear is on loan to First Battalion."
"We know," headquarters responded in that tone that meant they'd
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