Orphan's Triumph

TEN

ORD STARED AT ME as hydraulics hissed the upper ladder scaffold away from the Scorpion. “Sir, you aren’t thinking of landing with the assault troops?”

“As a consultant. A resource. Not in the chain of command. The last thing the company commanders on the ground need is brass looking over their shoulders. That’s why I’m not on the manifest.”

Ord’s mouth formed an “O” as his back straightened an additional half inch. “A theater commander in the first wave of a two-company raiding party? You could get killed! Sir. It’s completely…”

Reckless. Immature. And so on. But history recorded that Churchill, one of Ord’s favorite quote sources, tried to hitch a ride on a landing craft on D-day. Churchill got talked out of it at the last minute, but my situation wasn’t comparable, because Churchill was a civilian, and also he had nothing to add to the battle.

“Sergeant Major, I was the first modern human being to see a Slug alive. Colonel Hibble and I are the only people left alive who’ve been inside a working Troll incubator ship. This is a hasty operation, with the war at stake.

This plan, more than most, won’t survive contact with the enemy. Improvisation, based on intuitive knowledge of the Slugs, may decide the result. No human in this galaxy has fought more Slugs in more venues than I have. If I didn’t apply my specialized expertise on the ground, where it could do some good, I’d fire myself.” My chest puffed a bit. I doubt that Churchill made as good a speech when he argued his case.

Ord chewed his lip. Real-time battlefield communication had made leading from the front obsolete since Rommel, and we both knew it.

I pointed at the Spooks as they gawked and dawdled. “If Rusty’s two best infantry companies can protect that bunch until the cav lands, they can sure protect me.”

Ord crossed his arms, frowned, but nodded. “I want the general to know that I question the true rationale behind his decision.”

“But it is my decision?” Generals don’t need to persuade sergeants. Maybe I was really persuading myself.

“Indubitably, sir.”

I nodded and harrumphed.

“Then may I accompany the general?”

“No. There isn’t room, and you’re too valuable here.” Both reasons were more or less true.

I locked down my visor, then stepped toward the loading ramp.

“General?” Ord’s voice crackled in my earpiece.

I turned back toward him as he saluted. “Keep the maggots off your ass, sir.”

I returned his salute and smiled through my visor. “Always, Sergeant Major. This one should be easy.”