A noncom yelled, “Atten-hut!” as Santana appeared, and all of the bio bods and T-2s crashed to attention. Some were veterans, but all too many of the legionnaires were barely out of advanced infantry training and green as grass. That included some of the seven-and-a-half-foot-tall Trooper IIs. They had a vaguely humanoid appearance, but form follows function, and there was no mistaking their arm-mounted machine guns and laser cannons for anything other than what they were. Some of the T-2s were criminals who had chosen life in a brain box over death. Others were the victims of accidents or, having been “killed” in action, had seized the opportunity to live on as cyborgs. Santana took the opportunity to say a few words. “At ease. Welcome to O-Chi 4. How do you like it so far?”

That produced some grins and a guffaw or two. Santana nodded. “The good news is that we were able to put down safely. The bad news is that even our friends are shooting at us. Fortunately, the friendly-fire problem has been resolved. But the bugs are only 150 miles away. So stay sharp.

“As you know, we were sent here to take part in a joint operation with a local outfit called the O-Chi Rifles. I will learn more about them when I report to Colonel Antov at 1600 hours. During my absence, Captain Rona-Sa will be in command-and it’s my guess he’ll find ways to keep you occupied.”

Everyone knew Rona-Sa was a stickler for maintenance, so the last comment elicited outright laughter from everyone except the officer in question. He lacked both the inclination and the capacity to smile. Dietrich had served under Santana for a long time and knew the pep talk was over. “Ten-hut!”