* * *

Mike knew he wasn’t in charge of one lost grunt but he also recognized the private from their earlier encounter. So he pinged the poor guy’s suit.

“First fight?” Mike asked.

“Yes, sir,” Julio said, choking.

“I’d say it gets better, but it really doesn’t,” Mike said. “But we need to get in that hole. One way to make it better is to think. How should we do that, Private Julio Garcia?”

* * *

Julio’s mind blanked. The general, survivor of countless similar encounters, the guy who had coined or been the inspiration for so many military jokes and aphorisms he was up there with Patton and a bunch of other guys, was asking Julio how to do it?

That actually broke him out of his panic. Hell, throw one of his own sayings back.

“Don’t use finesse when force works, sir,” Julio snapped back.

* * *

Mike grinned and did the head twitch that was all that was available when wearing a suit. The suits were form-fitting and the helmet was fully closed, presenting nothing more than a faceted plate to the enemy. Wearers got everything from external sensors; no faceplate created a vulnerability. By the same token, the suits, while somewhat flexible, could not nod or shrug. Body language was highly subtle and took years to learn. What Mike saw was a troop that had potential but needed to get with the program.

“X-wing option,” Mike snapped on the local circuit. “Double threes. Julio does a hop and pop entry.”

* * *

Chingadera, Julio thought. The bodyguards were going to drop two three hundred kilo dialed grenades in the tunnel and fire it up in an X at the same time. His job, whether he chose to accept it or not, was to run up the rubble and dive through the hole, hoping that the Hammers would check fire before they shot him in the back and that he could get into position before whatever Posleen were defending the tunnel.