CALIPHATE(29)

Hodge had taken one look and run off, vomit pouring into her helmet and down the flexible neck guard to gather on her breasts.

Well, it had been her man, after all. Originally she had dispatched two soldiers on a patrol. One of them was still missing.

Hamilton refrained from following her, in both senses, but just barely.

"Over there," the Filipino said, pointing towards some vine- shrouded rocks. "They fired from over there." The finger rotated to a cave in the side of the jungle-clad hill to the east. "Some ran in there from the west. Your men followed. They were ambushed. Then the Moros in the cave came out and dismembered their armor. They want you to think they roasted this man alive but he was already dead when they strung him up over the fire. The other they dragged off, I think . . . alive. Initially they went south. I can't tell from here if they kept going that way."

Thompson nodded. He'd had opportunity enough these last few weeks to have learned to trust the scout's eyes and senses. "Can you track them?" he asked.

Aguinaldo said he could but, "Captain . . . they want you to follow. They didn't have to leave the trail so well marked and they usually don't. Then, too—" the scout hesitated.

"Yes, go on," Thompson commanded.

"You're the least suitable type of unit to track them."

"I know," the captain sighed. "But we're here . . . and nobody else is."

Thompson had already radioed for a light infantry unit to insert and track down the Moros. None had been available. He'd had high altitude aerial recon check out the area for twenty miles around. They'd seen nothing.

And yet, Thompson thought, we know they're out there. If they can't be seen that means they're ready, waiting and, just as Aguinaldo said, they want us to follow.

Hodge returned, a little unsteady in her armored feet. "I'm sorry, sir. I—"

"Never mind, Laurie," Thompson cut her off. "No shame."

It's not like I have all that much choice, the captain continued with his musing. If I owe the men nothing else, I owe them that they won't be abandoned while we can still try to help. Is this going to cost me more? Yes, probably. But the soldiers can be replaced. What can't be replaced if it's lost is the faith that we—this company—won't give up on them.

Then, too, assume the worst, that there's a company or two of unusually well armed, well trained, and well led Moros out there. So we follow and they get in the first licks...maybe hurt us, maybe even badly. After they get in their first licks, we get in the last ones. How many lives do I save if that group of Moros can be destroyed?

Man, all my choices suck; not a good one to be had. Hell, I don't even have a choice. I'm not going to leave one of my boys out there to be skinned or roasted alive.

So the question is, do I have everybody strip down to just Exos and follow or only enough to catch the Moros and pin them in position. The latter, I think. One platoon should do.

Thompson looked directly at Hodge. "Lieutenant, you want to get your own back?"

No hesitation: "Yes, sir!"

"Fine. Have your children strip down to just Exos, helmets, chest plates and small arms. That will give you the speed and the endurance to follow and catch them. The rest of the company will follow you as fast as we can, carrying your extra armor. I'll arrange for aerial recon and fire support . . . that, and an on-call power pack drop. I'll try again to get some light infantry inserted to block their escape but I can't promise it.

"Sergeant Aguinaldo, you go with them."

"Yes, sir," the scout answered.

"Be careful with my boys and girls, Laurie," Thompson cautioned. "Now go!"

Hodge was just as glad that the captain had ordered her platoon out of their suits. She wasn't sure she'd have been able to stand the stench of her own puke fermenting in the jungle heat.

That wasn't all that dumping full armor had done for her. Thus lightened, the suits were quieter, faster, and had a lot greater endurance. Since all the processing power was located in the back and all the sensing was in the helmets, she and her platoon lost nothing in those departments.

Unfortunately, the suits still weren't going through any major trees. These, the platoon had to snake around. Even as they did, though, branches and leaves and long, sharp grasses lashed at them, tearing at uniforms and sometimes slashing the skin beneath. No matter; one of theirs was somewhere ahead, facing a grisly death unless rescued. What was a little blood and pain not to have to face that failure?

Hodge stopped as Aguinaldo stiffened. The scout gestured with one hand, the other holding his rifle, for the platoon to move to the left. They did.

While they were doing so, Aguinaldo took a small remotely piloted vehicle, a miniature helicopter, from his pack and prepared to send it aloft.