Free Peace and War - Omnibus by Joe Haldeman Page B

Cortez rasped. 'Maybe some of you feel the way Potter evidently does, maybe some of your men feel that way … that we ought to go easy, not make this so much of a bloodbath. Mercy is a luxury, a weakness we can't afford to indulge in at this stage of the war. All we know about the enemy is that they have killed seven hundred and ninety-eight humans. They haven't shown any restraint in attacking our cruisers, and it'd be foolish to expect any this time, this first ground action.
    ' They are responsible for the lives of all of your comrades who died in training, and for Ho, and for all the others who are surely going to die today. I can't understand anybody who wants to spare them. But that doesn't make any difference. You have your orders and, what the hell, you might as well know, all of you have a post-hypnotic suggestion that I will trigger by a phrase, just before the battle. It will make your job easier.'
    'Sergeant…'
    'Shut up. We're short on time; get back to your platoons and brief them. We move out in five minutes.'
    The platoon leaders returned to their men, leaving Cortez and ten of us – plus three teddy bears, milling around, getting in the way.

15
    We took the last five klicks very carefully, sticking to the highest grass, running across occasional clearings. When we were 500 meters from where the base was supposed to be, Cortez took the third platoon forward to scout, while the rest of us laid low.
    Cortez's voice came over the general freak: 'Looks pretty much like we expected. Advance in a file, crawling. When you get to the third platoon, follow your squad leader to the left or right.'
    We did that and wound up with a string of eighty-three people in a line roughly perpendicular to the direction of attack. We were pretty well hidden, except for the dozen or so teddy bears that mooched along the line, munching grass.
    There was no sign of life inside the base. All of the buildings were windowless and a uniform shiny white. The huts that were our first objective were large featureless half-buried eggs some sixty meters apart. Cortez assigned one to each grenadier.
    We were broken into three fire teams: team A consisted of platoons two, four, and six; team B was one, three, and five; the command platoon was team C .
    'Less than a minute now – filters down! – when I say "fire," grenadiers, take out your targets. God help you if you miss.'
    There was a sound like a giant's belch, and a stream of five or six iridescent bubbles floated up from the flower-shaped building. They rose with increasing speed until they were almost out of sight, then shot off to the south, over our heads. The ground was suddenly bright, and for the first time in a long time, I saw my shadow, a long one pointed north. The bomb had gone off prematurely. I just had time to think that it didn't make too much difference; it'd still make alphabet soup out of their communications–
    'Drones!' A ship came screaming in just about tree level, and a bubble was in the air to meet it. When they contacted, the bubble popped and the drone exploded into a million tiny fragments. Another one came from the opposite side and suffered the same fate.
    'FIRE!' Seven bright glares of 500-microton grenades and a sustained concussion that surely would have killed an unprotected man.
    'Filters up.' Gray haze of smoke and dust. Clods of dirt falling with a sound like heavy raindrops.
    'Listen up:
"Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled;
Scots, wham Bruce has often led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory!"'
    I hardly heard him for trying to keep track of what was going on in my skull. I knew it was just post-hypnotic suggestion, even remembered the session in Missouri when they'd implanted it, but that didn't make it any less compelling. My mind reeled under the strong pseudo-memories: shaggy hulks that were Taurans (not at all what we now knew they looked like) boarding a colonists' vessel, eating babies while mothers watched in screaming terror (the