A Desert Called Peace by Tom Kratman

Author:Tom Kratman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fiction - Espionage, Science Fiction - Military, Space Opera, Revenge, General, Science Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Imaginary wars and battles, Adventure, Thrillers, Fiction, Science Fiction And Fantasy, Thriller
ISBN: 9781416521457
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2007-09-17T08:00:00+00:00

Approaching Stollen #1, 7/2/461 AC

There was a slight jingling as the unit marched, the sound of loads shifting and metal touching on metal.

Cruz brushed snow – he'd never in his life so much as seen snow before coming to Sumer – off of his face and shoulders as he walked towards the pass east of Multichucha Ridge. Ahead of him and behind, and on both sides of the highway, walked the rest of the four infantry centuries, minus their mortars, of 1st Cohort, plus the scout and engineer sections and the forward command post team. No vehicles were used; those were left behind. Everything, to include food and water, went in on the soldier's backs.

It was a terrible, man-killing load. Besides his rifle, ammunition and auxiliary ammunition, Cruz carried food for five days, water for three, and a portion of the century's common equipment. In all, Cruz's load was better than one hundred and fifty pounds, and he was not the most heavily laden of the legionaries.

Nearing the pass, Cruz noticed that he could not see the genitalia which gave the ridge its nickname.

Thank God for the snow, he thought, freezing or not. If I can't see the pussies than the Sumeris won't see me. Besides, I'm already homesick enough.

Unseen by Cruz—or by anyone not within a few paces of the cohort commander, Tribune I Gutierrez—a non-com from Cheatham's Engineer Century met the 1st at the pass. The engineer cautioned Gutierrez, "Slow down and keep them quiet until you are in the Stollen." Gutierrez dropped his pace to a crawl to reduce the sounds coming from the company, sounds that might alert the Sumeris that the Stollen were being occupied.

Dammit, the tribune thought, fuming at the low key jingling coming from behind him. It isn't as if we didn't do our damndest to make sure everything was quiet and secured before we set out. They had done what was possible. But some sound was unavoidable and in this cold air could well carry despite the muffling effect of the snow.

The engineer then led them down the road before cutting right across the open field to the shelter's narrow entrance. "File in silently," the engineer advised. A couple more engineers, these with homemade rakes, smoothed the snow behind the passing centuries.

Inside, the place smelled damp and musty, Cruz thought. It was a small surprise in construction so new. Buckets stacked in one corner suggested that it was soon going to have a very different, and much worse, odor.

There were signs on the walls, lit only by chemical lights, or "chemlights." Other chemlights traced out boundaries on the Stollen floor. One of the signs said, in the sickly green glow, "1st Century." Cruz led his team to that corner and set down his rucksack. His three men placed theirs beside his and, like him, began unrolling bedding, air mattresses, sleeping bags, and blankets. As Cruz and his boys were blowing up the air mattresses someone struck a match and applied the flame to a lantern.

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