Gettysburg: A Tale of the Second War for Pennsylvanian Independence Read Online Free Page A

skirmishes with Transport? A lot of TRACE
soldiers died so we could patch those things together.”
    She waited. She knew where he was going, but the argument
needed to be made.
    “We’re taking an awful risk sending them out without ground
support,” Trick said. “If we lose them . . .”
    The decision hung in the air for a moment.
    “Our soldiers didn’t die to create six museum pieces,” the
QB said patiently. “We have an asset. We need to use it.”
    Trick stood up straight. “And if we lose them?”
    The QB took her eyes off the map and brought them directly
to his. “Then we’ll secure six more. We’re not fighting a war for the vid
cameras, Lieutenant. We’re not saving dessert till after dinner. We’re using
every asset we have to bring Transport down and secure freedom for all of us.
Caution is one thing. I’m not advocating recklessness. We’ve been lucky in
victory of late, but time is not on our side. Eventually Transport will wear us
down. With manpower, with resources, with the power curve to put more of both
in the field than we can. We’ve been at war for a generation. Both sides are
weary. But we’re older , if you know what I mean.”
    This was the most she’d ever explained herself to a
subordinate. It was uncomfortable but necessary, she thought. The whole war
could turn on this one battle.
    Trick stood up straighter. “Yes, ma’am.”
    She acknowledged his acceptance with a curt nod.
    “Ma’am, one more thing.”
    “Yes?”
    “Have you run this past Colonel Neville?”
    She looked at him sharply.
    His brows rose in defense. “I don’t mean that the way it
sounded. I mean—”
    “You mean have I covered my ass?”
    A bit sheepishly, he said, “Yes, ma’am.”
    She considered it, then, “No. Best to ask forgiveness on
this one, not permission.”
    Trick exhaled. “Fortune favors the foolish, ma’am?”
    “We’d best pray that’s the case,” she said. “Tonight,
Lieutenant, by the book. Set pickets, two-man squads. Keep them inside the
Umbrella. Send out the drones in pairs to recon the town’s perimeter, two
minutes apart. Close enough to reinforce should they encounter the enemy, but
far enough from the other pairs so they can’t all be taken out at once.”
    The lieutenant saluted. “Umbrella perimeter?”
    “Keep it tight,” she said. “Focused.”
    Powered by stored solar energy, the undetectable energy
barrier that TRACE called “the Umbrella” would degrade quickly if too widely
cast, but if focused in a tight dome, it would prevent any heat scans thrown
their way from returning a signal. If the Umbrella did its job, a passing drone
would only see one more area devoid of heat sigs. As long as the drone didn’t
come into visual range, it would never know they were there.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Briefing at dawn,” the QB said. “And get some sleep.
Tomorrow’s likely to be a sunny day.”
    Trick paused. “Understood, ma’am.”
    As he left her tent, she looked down at the map. Such a
small town. Such a huge risk. And everything riding on her orders and the
bravery of Bestimmung Company.
    She prepared for bed and said a prayer she hadn’t thought of
in twenty-five years. Then she slept like a baby.

The Second Day

Hatch woke at oh-five-hundred, his left leg numb from resting
on it all night. The laser burn still smarted on his right calf, so his choice
of sleeping position hadn’t really been an option.
    “The ladies will love the scar,” yawned Stug, sitting up on
an elbow. “And you need all the help you can get.”
    “Says the upright-walking bulldog,” Hatch replied, wincing
as he sat up. “I hate getting shot.”
    “Grazed,” corrected Stug. “Let’s not be melodramatic.”
    “Hey, can you lovebirds keep it down when you go at it? Or
get a room?” Bracer grumbled. “There’s men trying to sleep here.”
    “Where?” Stug shot back.
    “Okay, okay, we’re all awake now,” said Hatch. “The sun’ll
be up in half an hour. The