Accordingly, I threw myself flat and shot the nearest one in the leg. This seemed to take everyone by surprise. Harris was still talking, describing his contest, but I was done listening. It was me or the dragons, thats all I knew.

The target machine took the hit, and for a second I thought it was going to stay up, but it didnt. The leg buckled and the machine went down on one knee, servos whining.

Harris charged at me, shouting.

"HOLD!" he roared. "No guns! Neither side is supposed to damage-"

The pilot of the machine Id hit seemed to take exception to my breaking of the rules. Smoothly, two cannons protruded from the chest cavity and barked.

Harris was in a bad place at a bad time, right between me and the dragon Id just crippled. He was. .h.i.t in the back and blasted off his feet. He went into a tumble that finished up about a five meters to my left. His eyes were as dead as boiled eggs, and his back was a smoking ruin.

All up and down the Varus line, my fellows opened up, rattling fire at the line of active machines. The machines rocked back with the shock, then returned fire with their cannons. The weapons seemed to have short range but explosive power. If I had to guess, Id say they were firing rocket-powered grenades of some kind.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" boomed a command in our headsets. It took me a second to recognize the voice of Centurion Graves.

Somehow, Graves managed to cut through the confusion. A few more shots were popped off by both sides, but we lowered our weapons and stared at one another distrustfully. Three of the dragons were damaged, and at least twenty troopers were dead.

"No guns, no shields, no force-blades!" Centurion Graves voice ordered in my headset. "Both sides are to use only melee weapons. This is to be a hand-to-hand contest. GO!"

Reluctantly, I dropped my belcher. The temptation to launch one more salvo was strong in me, but I managed to resist it.

"What are we going to do, McGill?" Carlos shouted from nearby, breathing hard.

"Were going to have to get in close and take them apart by hand."

"s.h.i.t!" he said, and I had to agree with the sentiment. "Those grippers-theres no way. This is a setup. Were supposed to get slaughtered."

All up and down the line, the Varus troops were forming up in knots. They had a grim look on their faces. The enemy line formed up as well, transforming into a wedge-shaped group of seven functioning dragons.

With all my heart, I wanted to extend my force-blades and do battle-but I didnt. Instead, I advanced and a knot of troops formed around me.

Veteran Harris was down as was Sargon. That left me as the senior noncom in my platoon. This was my chance, I decided, to show I could lead men if I had to.

"All right," I said. "Form up, spread out. Were going to have to-"

That was as far as I got. The enemy wedge charged. There werent that many of them, but they were ferocious. They came on with those powerful legs churning. If I had to guess, I would say they could run twice as fast as a man.

The wedge plowed right into a knot of troops to my left. They went down like bowling pins. Screams and roars sounded from both sides. Men struggled in their exo-skeleton suits, but they couldnt compete in either strength or weight. The troops had out knives, but although they gouged the armor of the machines and even cracked a few faceplates the squad was soon just a struggling ma.s.s under the crushing weight of the machines.

It was already clear to me what the enemy was going to do. Theyd charge each group of us as we formed up and break us, destroying us in detail. The leader was already rotating a predatory head, the dragons tail lashing with a whining noise as it fought to maintain balance, standing on the backs of fallen troopers.

"Break apart!" I ordered. "Squad, spread out. Their commander is looking for a target, and we dont want that to be us."

They did as I asked, separating and dispersing with rapid side-steps in every direction.

"Good thinking, McGill," Carlos said. "Let these mechanical monsters wreck everyone else first. With any luck-"

"Shut up, Im trying to think," I ordered, and for once in his life he did what he was told.

"Natasha?" I asked. "Can you do anything?"

"Like what?" she demanded, breathing hard.

"I dont know. Maybe you could remotely hack the dragons or something."

"Tried it. No go, McGill."

"Okay. Plan B."

"Theyre charging again!" Carlos shouted.

The cavalry had chosen another group of victims by now, and they charged in tight formation. This squad of troops had retreated to the edge of the battlefield and stood with their backs to a hundred meter drop. The results were almost as bad as the first time, with one exception. The troops to push of the dragons over the side.

That gave me an idea.

"Squad, follow me! Attack! Redirect all suit-power to your legs!"

Without explaining, I ran across the field toward the struggling knot of men and dragons. The Varus troops were losing-badly. But they werent all dead yet. Using only grippers, the machines had to pretty much amputate limbs methodically to win.

We crossed the intervening distance quickly. In powered suits, we could run almost as fast as the machines could when we sent the full power of our exoskeletons to our legs.

"What the h.e.l.l are we doing, McGill?" Carlos shouted.

"Hit them. Like a football tackle. Knock them over the edge. Its the only way."

"McGills right!" Kivi shouted, somewhere behind me. "Lets push them over the side!"

The best part of the next minute as I later looked back on it all had to be when the enemy turned to see us coming. They had to be thinking "what the h.e.l.l" but before they could react, we were on them.

My boots were clanging on the metal roof of the modules with perfect, powered rhythm. My face was a deaths-head snarl of rage. Lowering my shoulder, I crashed into the nearest dragon.

The shock was tremendous. The vehicle was so ma.s.sive it was as if Id just rammed myself into the b.u.mper of my parents family tram back home. The machine rocked but didnt go down. The driver must have set himself for the impact.

But then Carlos came in beside me and added his weight. Finally, the machine began to move. It was sliding, I realized, sliding on the b.l.o.o.d.y mess theyd made of the last squad who now formed heaps of helpless dead on the ground.

We struggled, grappling their legs and heaving. One machine went over the side, taking a howling trooper with it. They crashed to the bottom of the hold, and I dearly hoped the pilot had died for his sins.

Still, the contest was uneven. There were only five of them, but there were only about ten of us left. While we shoved and grunted and forced them back, they werent idle. Those grippers reached out snapping and snipping. Heads and arms were lying everywhere.

Ten of us-we couldnt do it. I decided as the dragon Carlos and I were working on got a gripper on my left elbow that Id do my d.a.m.nedest and die well. My arm didnt come off right away as my weaponeers armor was heavier than that of the average trooper. If I could kill just one more of them- Wham! I felt a slamming weight against my back. My despair had been premature. More men had arrived. Legion Varus troops, seeing our plan and seeing it was working, had charged from all around the battlefield.

More and more of them joined in, adding their weight to ours.

I couldnt see-I could barely hear. So much blood had splattered my cracked faceplate, and everyone was roaring in my ears so loudly I didnt even realize I was near the edge until I went over.

There was a sick feeling at the final second. It was a moment without parallel when I realized I was falling through the air and crashing down to certain death.

The dragon Id been struggling with all this time was under me, and I was riding it down. It felt like I was falling all the way to h.e.l.l itself.

I dont remember hitting the bottom. I think I was knocked out at least for a few seconds.

I came awake groaning. I flipped up my faceplate painfully, and I could see again.

A tangled ma.s.s of death lay all around me. One of the machines and three or four troopers squirmed, but most were still.

On impulse, I reached up and opened the faceplate of the nearest machine-of the one Id ridden over the side.

To my shock, I recognized the face inside.

"Della?" I asked in a coughing whisper.

She didnt answer me because she was as dead as a stone. I stared into her face. It was strange meeting up with her again-it was even stranger to know Id just killed her.

A cheer swelled louder and louder above me. I flopped and rolled onto my back, looking up. A line of Varus troops stood along the edge, shaking their fists and whooping.

"Look at McGill!" Carlos shouted. "Hes still alive!"

More cheers went up. Grinning through b.l.o.o.d.y teeth, I forced one gauntlet to wave at them before I pa.s.sed out.

-8-.

Bio people are lazy. They dont like to fix the bodies of the badly injured. They preferred to recycle broken flesh and start new. Theirs was a throw-away culture, and I was therefore surprised when I woke up in the infirmary in my old, badly damaged body.

"Seven broken bones, not counting ribs," Bio Specialist Anne Grant read from her tapper while standing next to me.

I had to turn my head pretty far to see her as my right eye had swollen shut.

"Contusions, punctures and a collapsed lung," she went on. "We even had to remove your spleen. Do you know how long its been since Ive bothered to do that, James?"

"No, but Im pretty sure youre going to tell me," I said with stinging, cracked lips.

"Eight years, I would guess. Thats how long ago I signed up with this crazy outfit. We just dont do organ removal. Not from a living person, that is."

"Sounds like it would be boring, just running the revival machine all day."

She gave me a reproachful look. "And you, youre hurting arent you? Is this better than a fresh revive?"

I didnt know why she was giving me a hard time, but I was getting tired of it. After all, I was the one in agony. Shed only suffered inconvenience. Then again, maybe I was just feeling sorry for myself.

"Actually," I said, "Im feeling pretty good. I figured I might go for a jog around the top of those modules later today. Ive got a few kinks in my legs I need to work out."

She shook her head and huffed. "Those arent kinks, theyre staples. I nu-skinned the h.e.l.l out of them, but theyll still sting for a week. Theyre sunk in all the way to the bone."

Groaning, I levered myself into a half-sitting position. Her small hands pushed on my chest.

"Lie back down, please. Youll pa.s.s out if you get out of bed now. Graves wants to talk to you. I think thats why youre still alive."

I let her push me back down. In truth, it felt a lot better that way. I was a mess. As a person whos been killed and injured countless times, I could tell this was a bad one.

Graves showed up about ten minutes later. His face blocked out the medical lights that were glaring into my eyes, and he examined me with all the tenderness of a rancher poking at his prize bull.

"McGill? Are you lucid yet?"

"Right as rain, sir."

"Good. I wanted to talk to you. With all the revives going on today I knew it would be a while if I let you stack up in the queue with the rest. I hope you dont mind."

"Mind that you stopped me from being recycled? No sir, I dont mind."

He slapped my thigh, and I winced. He didnt seem to notice.

"Thats the spirit! I want to thank you, McGill. That was a fine bit of improvising you did out there on the field today. We didnt expect that play. Sure, Winslade and the rest of his auxiliary people are screaming about the damage you did to their machines-but do you know what I said to that?"

"Uh...what sir?"

"That they could go screw themselves, thats what. It was Winslades idea to prove how powerful his machines were by abusing all the new troops who arrived to train on them. Im sure he didnt expect much in the way of damage, but thats just too d.a.m.ned bad."

I was fuzzy, but I was pretty sure hed mentioned a name that I didnt think should be mentioned when talking about combat units.

"Sir?" I asked. "Did you say Winslade? As in, Adjunct Winslade?"

"The one and only. Turovs sidekick has finally cashed in his marker. Hes a primus now-hadnt you heard?"

A primus was in charge of a cohort in a regular legion or in some cases an independent auxiliary cohort. Commanding an auxiliary cohort gave a primus more prestige and independence than a regular commander who was permanently the subordinate of a legions tribune. Usually, such special cohort a.s.signments went to people whod held the rank of primus for several years and who had done well in that capacity. Winslade was none of these things.

"Im not surprised he managed to swing a command rank," I said, "but isnt this a stretch? A primus is two jumps above an Adjunct. Last Id heard, he still didnt have much in the way of combat experience to begin with."

"I know," Graves said, "I know. Ive been with this legion for decades, and theyve always promoted one snot-nose or another over me. Thats the way of things sometimes. When forming up a new auxiliary cohort, you would think theyd look for officers from the existing fighting forces, but no."

"They took and promoted a Hog right over you? Its just not right."

"Well, lets forget about that," Graves said. "Lets talk about your tactics. What inspired you to try to shove the dragons over the side?"

I explained how Id seen a group along the edge which had managed to throw one down. I then quickly ordered my followers to charge into the melee before the dragons could finish butchering the first group.

"Excellent," Graves said. "Thats what Im talking about, right there: Leadership on the field, improvisation-and victory. I dont regret a thing."

I frowned. "What would you have to regret, sir?"

"Your upcoming trials have been challenged. The 3rd Unit veterans came to me, and they told me I had to pull your advancement to candidacy. Did you know they were against it?"

"I had a feeling, sir."

"Well, I wont lie-this might go badly for you, but I think you might be able to pull it off somehow. See you on the other side, McGill."

He stood up and gave me a grim nod. Then he left the infirmary. I looked after him and tried not to worry.