I jammed my thumb on the stud that set off the mines. The whole gully erupted in a tremendous blast of flame and billowing dirt and smoke. I saw bodies hurled into the air, silhouetted against the flaming trees, and parts of bodies, too.

For a stunned instant everything went quiet. Absolutely still. Or was it that the shattering, overpowering roar of that explosion had simply deadened my ears?

“They’re coming at us again!” It sounded like Lieutenant Vorl, who was stationed halfway around the perimeter from where I was. And, sure enough, more Skorpis were pushing forward toward my position, staying low to avoid the heavy laser fire, but still advancing toward us.

“Fall back,” I said into my helmet mike. “Fall back and tighten up our perimeter.” With a smaller circumference to cover we could intensify our fire.

For what seemed like hours we inched back and the Skorpis crawled forward. There was no end of them. I saw hundreds of their bodies sprawled in death all around us, yet their comrades still pressed forward, relentless, unheeding. My rifle became too hot to fire; it just refused to work. I pushed it aside and drew my pistol.

“Piss on it,” muttered a trooper at my side.

I thought he was having trouble with his rifle, too.

“Piss on it,” he repeated, adding, “sir.”

And he demonstrated what he meant. With laser beams zipping scant millimeters over our heads, he wormed his penis out of his pants and armor and urinated on the coils of his rifle. Then he flattened onto his belly and resumed firing at the Skorpis.

“Cools the coils, sir,” he said, without taking his eyes off the advancing enemy. “That’s one advantage we men have over the women. Sir.”