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extremely exposed as they rushed to the bottom of the pit and the openings into the mine itself.  He felt that he would be hit at any moment.  The sight of a downed Marine, his PICS torn open, did not help.  They rushed forward to their objective.  There were two other doors, both larger to accommodate trucks, but the lieutenant had chosen the smaller of the three entrances, one only about two meters wide.
    Just before reaching bottom, a blast erupted in front of Ryck.  Smoke billowed up, and a body was thrown in the air.  It came back down to land in a heap.  Without hesitation, two other Marines closed in on the body, grabbed it, and pulled it forward.
    Within moments, all the Marines reached the mined rock wall at the bottom into which the openings were cut.  The Marines spread out on either side of their target door.  Ryck slammed his back up against the rock, looking over to his right where the injured Marine was on his ass, leaning up against the rock wall as well.  It was Cpl Singh.  The bones provided excellent ballistic protection, but they did little to provide structural support.  Singh’s left leg was gruesomely twisted, the front of the foot facing back, the knee twisted at a 90 degree angle to the side.  The mine blast had also damaged his skin’s nanos.  The small sensors and syntho-chromatophores in the fabric of his utilities, his skins, had obviously been knocked out of whack.  His blouse had already shifted the color and pattern to match the rock against which he leaned, but the trou had turned to black.  His non-stop stream of cursing actually calmed Ryck.  If the corporal could keep that up, then he would be OK once the Navy docs got a hold of him. 
    Ryck subconsciously felt his own skins for the armor in them.  It was hard to believe that what looked like stiff, heavy paper, the “bones,” could give any support when slid into the pockets of his skins.  They were pliable and permitted movement when they were in the skins, but when hit by a projectile, the molecular structure instantly crystallized to provide a casing that was proof against most small arms projectiles.  Like all recruits, Ryck had watched a DI back at Camp Charles get shot right in the chest at close range with no injury, but seeing a demonstration of that and trusting his own armor to work as well was a huge jump in confidence.
    He tore his eyes off the injured corporal to look back to where LCpl Smith was placing the small breaching charge against the solid metal door of the entrance.  Although weighing less than a kilo, it nonetheless packed a huge punch.  If anyone was waiting on the other side of the door for the Marines, the blast would either take them out or render them incapable of offering any resistance. 
    “Fire in the hole!” Smitty yelled out before jumping back to hug the wall. 
    The breaching charge was very directional and could be dialed to various degrees of dispersion, but even with 10 meters between him and the door, Ryck moved away another step, pushing back up against the rock.
    The resultant explosion was huge, much larger than the breaching charge alone would have made.  Not only was the door breached, but also some of the rock jamb was blown off, sending rubble out into the mine pit.
    “Those fracheads booby-trapped the son-of-a-bitch,” Smitty shouted out.  “They about got my ass.”
    By booby-trapping the door, the miners had ensured no one could have survived the resultant explosion on the inside.  SSgt England realized that and was already in motion, rushing the blown entrance.  Ryck hurried to catch up as they ducked inside the dust-filled room.  Ryck cautiously crept forward about five meters and knelt across from the staff sergeant, M99 pointing down the passage leading deeper inside the mine.  He couldn’t see much, but he had practiced the action enough times in training even if he hadn’t practiced it with these specific Marines.
    Just inside the door was a