War of the Worlds: Retaliation by John J. Rust & Mark Gardner

Author:John J. Rust & Mark Gardner [Rust, John J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Article94
Published: 2017-01-03T07:00:00+00:00

twenty

Twenty-four hours had passed since General O’Ryan told Patton to be ready to move out. Their gear was stowed, their rucksacks filled, and all the SPAs were in good condition.

Still, they remained in place. For twenty-five hours. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.

Patton stalked up and down the regiment’s fighting positions, ready to explode. He eyed the SPA crews, looking for any kind of infraction. He needed to take out his frustrations on someone. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t do it on the ones who really deserved it. The damn generals.

Another worry took hold of Patton. What if O’Ryan had lied about the redeployment? What if he said that to mollify him? Even worse, what if other units were headed off to fight while the 214th continued to sit here? Maybe this was his punishment for being such a pain in the ass. It wouldn’t surprise him. The Army had its share of petty and vindictive officers.

Thirty hours had passed. Patton headed back to the Fossil Creek to sack out. Actually, he expected to just lay in his bunk and stare at the ceiling. He was too enraged to fall asleep.

He just started up the ramp when a lieutenant he recognized as one of General Willey’s aides came up to him.

“Colonel Patton.”

“What?”

“General Willey has called for a meeting of all regimental commanders in the command habitat at twenty-three hundred hours.”

Patton smiled and nodded. Finally.

He entered the command habitat twenty minutes early, beating everyone else there. He unlatched his helmet and took it off, inhaling the mechanically generated air. Next Patton removed his gloves and wiped the sweat from his face. He took another gulp of air.

“It does feel good to take off that fishbowl, doesn’t it?”

Patton turned around and saw a stocky, dark-haired man enter the tent, his helmet tucked under his arm.

“It gets to the point I feel like I’ve got a hot towel wrapped around my face, for hours,” he said to Lieutenant Colonel Brad Jones, the commander of the 167th Battlewalker Regiment.

“Tell me about it.” Jones came over and sat next to Patton. “So you think they’re going to let us go back out and fight the damn squids again?”

“If they’re smart, they will. The squids aren’t going to exterminate themselves.”

“Hear, hear.” Jones nodded.

The other regimental commanders filed into the command habitat. At precisely 2300, General Willey and General O’Ryan entered the briefing room. Patton and the other commanders stood at attention.

“As you were.” Willey waved them to sit down. Some enlisted men wheeled in easels with maps and photographs taped to them.

“Gentleman, I know it hasn’t been easy for you, being cooped up in camp all this time.” Willey’s gaze rested on Patton. He took it as a not-so-subtle reminder that he’d irritated the hell out of him these past few weeks.

Patton met Willey’s gaze, not blinking, not showing any sign of being intimidated.

Willey gave a barely audible grunt and continued. “Well, that’s about to end. Orders just came down from ASEF Command. We’re going to launch a new offensive against the Martians.

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