He had to admit that the choice made sense. Urbers were generally shorter and smaller than the norm. The Hammers were mostly big guys. He could just fit better than they could. He probably could dive into the hole; ACS was not particularly cumbersome.

The other choice was the general. And Julio didn’t want to think about that possibility.

“On my mark,” the general continued, not bothering to ask if everyone understood their jobs. Getting a job in ACS required time in a regular Fleet Strike infantry unit and then a six month course. Julio knew what he was supposed to do. Doing it, though…

* * *

Sergeant Rawls designated one other Hammer to toss the second grenade then pinged readiness. At the general’s signal, they tossed the two grenades then the Hammers formed up on the rubble, leaping forward to get in the General’s way. Otherwise the nitwit was going to get himself in the way of plasma from Posleen and grenades.

There wasn’t any fire as they positioned themselves and fired up the hole but the wash of explosive carried a good bit of antimatter with it. Tough as ACS suits were, antimatter would degrade anything. The system automatically noted reduced effectiveness pretty much across the board; their suits had thinned on average three percent. The suits were going to have to go into the shop for a full detailing after this shit.

His suit kept him apprised of the actions of the line private as the guy scrambled up the rubble hill and then threw himself forward. Like well-oiled machines, the Hammers checked fire while the private was in mid-air so that he was following a crossing line of relativistic projectiles as he entered the hole.

* * *

The second set of grenades had dropped a portion of the ceiling, leaving large chunks of rubble all over the floor. So when Julio tried to roll to his feet, he stumbled and fell backwards instead. But in the light of his suit helmet he could see a door opening right by his left leg. So he kicked it.