I was thinking along those lines on Saturday afternoon as I stood in one of the large, open areas of property surrounding our church. The occasion wasn’t nearly as melodramatic as the quote: my turns-seven-too-soon son, my wife and myself were getting ready to launch some model rockets.

The last ride of the Alpha II.

Something similar is an early lesson every model rocketeer learns. If you’ve never lost a rocket, you’ve never launched a rocket. Shoot one of those little suckers up several hundred feet — where the wind may be doing God-only-knows — and hope the parachute doesn’t carry it into a tree 200 yards away.

I remember many wild rocket chases in my distant and misspent youth. And quite a few lost rockets. A couple of mine succumbed to the rooftops of the elementary school across the street from where I grew up in Clermont. Another disappeared into the high school complex next door to it. I recall another which descended almost to within arm’s reach, only to be snatched by a gust of wind and spirited into an orange grove, never to be seen again.

The most spectacular loss wasn’t mine. One of my friends built a two-stage rocket that we launched from a field behind the old middle school. It topped out at about 1500 feet. We chased it for a mile and a half, across US 27 and into the groves — before finally giving up. That same day, a glider-recovery rocket I built caught fire at engine burnout and descended to the ground in a slow, flaming spiral, trailing smoke like a stricken warbird. Not exactly lost, but the charred remains never flew again.

There was a little breeze Saturday, but nothing too stout. We launched an Alpha II with an A8-3 engine as a sort of “sounding rocket” and it floated down maybe 30 yards away. The bigger Chrome Dome rode a B6-4 engine to several hundred feet and also came down near by.

I thought about putting a B engine in our newest rocket, an Estes Ricochet, but it’s sleek lines and light weight dissuaded me. With another A8-3, it hit maybe 400 feet. Nice. Another flight of the Alpha II followed, also an easy recovery.

Then my son decided he wanted to see what the Alpha could do with a “really big engine.” I told him that we might never see the little rocket again if we loaded it up with a C engine, but he was not to be denied. So onto the launch pad it went, armed with a C6-3 rocket motor.

That was one impressive launch.

I tried to aim the launcher a bit into the slight wind, in hopes the rocket would come down in the big drainage retention area about 50 yards down wind from us. My aim was off a bit, I guess, or the winds higher up weren’t cooperating.

The little rocket smoked out at around 1000 feet, I think, high above the other side of the church’s property. Then it just sort of set sail on its little red parachute.

It only missed the drainage retention area by about 200 yards. Errr… I watched it come down slowly, veering off to the south as it went and drifting quickly toward the line of houses bordering the church property. I lost sight of the red parachute when it vanished behind a huge oak tree about 100 yards away. Crap.

After a lengthy search involving our pastor — who had come out to watch — and a couple of neighbors, we finally found the Alpha II. It was hanging in the skeletal branches of one of the neighborhood’s rare deciduous trees, still at least 100 feet off the ground. I don’t think it’s coming down anytime soon.

Not exactly a Neil Armstrong level accomplishment, but still impressive. A brave little orange flag, planted to the glory of science.

After collecting the two “rescue” points in the last episode, our intrepid Cav squad backtracked a bit into the desert — entering previously explored nodes — then proceeded to enter Cave Complex B. On Turn 18, they entered the complex’s first node and made contact with a force of four AI drones.

The squad leader’s command check earned a command point. He used that point to burn an “I” resource and give his squad an Ambush order, which allows the squad to conduct one “free” round of attacks before the enemy can respond.

I decided to burn another Grenade resource — Sergeant’s Time — and scored 4 hits. The squad drew 5 successes, including a success from the Assault Team that scored 2 wounds. Against the total of 10 wounds, the defenders drew two armor saves. The total of 8 wounds eliminated all four drones. That’s a pretty good ambush. The node contained an “I” resource cache, and I drew RN 4 for a total of three Intelligence resources.

The area of operations for the mission.

The squad continued deeper into the complex, entering the “rescue” node on Turn 16. Again they made contact with the enemy, this time a team of two AI drones. The squad couldn’t get to Melee range, and a combination of average shooting and good draws for armor saves extended the combat for three rounds, but the result was inevitable. The robots managed to score wounds in a couple of rounds, which I assigned both times to the Close Combat unit. Unfortunately, Corporal Miller (who could take 3 wounds, due to his “Bear Strength” talent) blew both armor saves. I expended a Medikit — “M” resource — to remove one wound, leaving him down a wound by combat’s end.

After the combat, the rescue check pulled an RN5, resulting in 2 more “rescue” points — bringing the total to 4, which was the number required to successfully end the scenario.

The scenario scored a large bag of Victory Points for my ongoing campaign. The squad earned 3 VP for a successful mission, 2 VP for finishing with 5 resources in their resource pool, 2 more VP for selecting no Strategic Options at the beginning of the game and 1 VP for completing the mission before Turn 14 — a whopping total of 8 VP. A minimum of 24 VP is required in order to “win” the eight-scenario campaign I’m playing, so this mission was a major contribution to the cause. My total for the campaign’s first three missions stands at 19 VP, which means I only need 5VP more over five missions in order to be a Happy Camper.

For those of you keeping score at home, who were the heroes and zeroes? No zeroes this time, only heroes. Obviously, Corporal Miller (the Close Combat unit) gets a Purple Heart for taking the only wound. In fairness, all of the wounds generated by the AI attacks were assigned to the CC unit because of its armor save. But the biggest grunt always carries the heavy gear, so that’s the way it goes.

Interestingly, although all but two of the combats were conducted entirely at melee range, the combat results were fairly evenly distributed. The Fire Team (Buergel and March), Assault Team (Phillips and Oppenheimer), Close Combat unit (Miller) and Shotgunner (Basinger) all scored 7 combat successes during the mission. The APC gunner (Coyle) scored one success in just two rounds of combat, and “Sergeant’s Time” (Grenade resources) was responsible for 8 more wounds on the enemy.

As I noted in my first post about the game, I think Space Infantry is indeed a clever solitaire design. Obviously, with only a little bit of imagination you can build a top-notch narrative around what’s happening on the game board. Anybody who decides to dive into this game, I highly recommend moving into a campaign as quickly as possible. The “meta” elements of campaigning add a lot of flavor and decision making into the mix.

Reno pulled up Bernardo’s helmet feed. Signal loss caused by all the rock made the image grainy and unstable, but the sergeant recognized a small pile of gear with unmistakable Fleet markings.

“Our missing Marines?” he asked.

The Explorer comes in handy.

“Maybe,” Bernardo replied. “I got some bootprints nearby, but nothing else. Looks like mostly a pile of dead weight junk, but I think they also abandoned a couple of ABG canisters. My descent rig is stable, so come on down and have a look. It’s only about 50 meters.”

Reno moved to the edge of the crevasse and clipped his equipment harness onto the descent line. He turned back to look at the rest of the squad.

“CQB team next, after I’m off the line,” he instructed. “Then we’ll crank down Tex and his big rig. Basinger, you’re Tail-End Charlie. Stay sharp.”

Gamespeak: Turn 26. The next node in Cave Complex A has a requirement of Climb-2 for entry. The explorer, Bernardo, is the only squad member with the Climb skill (Climb 4), which can’t be augmented with a Command Point. The Climb skill check is RN4, yielding 1 success level. Steady progress into the depths of the cavern.

Gamespeak: Turn 27. The Climb skill check is RN5, earning another success level. The squad enters the node. The Event string for the node is 6+/A, and the draw is RN 2, so no contact. The node is also marked with a “G” icon, indicating the squad can find Grenade resources here. The number of resources in a cache is determined by the formula RN-1. I draw RN5 for the cache, so there are 4 grenade resources available. The squad can carry only 8 total resources, and I don’t want to discard any Intel or Medikits, so they pick up 2 Grenades.

Reno flipped on his battlesuit lights and disappeared into the crevasse. The rock wall dropped at about a 60-degree angle; it took only a few quick hops down the line to cover the distance. When he reached the bottom, he found Bernardo standing on the far end of a small chamber, shining his lights down a narrow passageway.

“Some oddball rock formations, probably wind-cut,” the Pathfinder noted. “It widens out a bit beyond the entrance, but I don’t think we can fit through here in our battlesuits. Looks like the only way in.”

“Well. Shit.” The First Sergeant toggled his command suit’s ranging system to macro mode and took a quick reading. For the first meter or so, the passage was indeed too narrow for a man in a battlesuit. The Marines’ soft environment suits could squeeze through, but the Cavalry was going to have a tough time riding to the rescue. “I don’t suppose you have a sledgehammer in that kit of yours?”

“We might be able to shove one of the smaller guys through,” Bernardo opined. “March, for instance.”

Reno shook his head. The last time they’d tried to turn March into a tunnel rat, he’d gotten wedged into a rock chimney jammed with not-quite-petrified bat guano for an hour before they managed to pull him out. It was good for a few grins, true, but the armorers weren’t happy when they had to steam blast his suit four or five times to get the stench out.

Phillips came rattling down the descent line behind them, followed quickly by Oppenheimer. The troopers joined in the examination of the cave opening.

“Maybe we could chunk off some of that rock with a chain blade,” Phillips offered.

“And ruin one of the taxpayers’ very expensive M-71 Powered Close Combat Systems?” Reno looked at the rock, then at the chain blade on the end of Phillips’ VRF rifle. It might work. “Have at it.”

“Heh.” Phillips spun up the high-speed blade, then suddenly stopped and looked over at Reno, grinning. “Hey. They won’t take it out of my pay, will they?”

“Corporal McGee’s gonna want to see that Form DD-2271, trooper. Unfortunately, I don’t have one on me.” Reno rolled his eyes. “Just shred the fucking rock.”

Phillips turned back to the opening and hefted the chain blade. Just as he started spinning it up, a loud “twang” echoed down from the crevasse opening.

When all else fails, try brute force.

“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” Miller’s coarse shout bounced off the cavern walls and crackled over the comm link. Reno turned just in time to see the heavily armored trooper come skittering down the rock wall at high speed. He hit the cavern floor feet first, then somersaulted toward the four men standing at the passage entrance. Everybody instinctively leapt backward. Miller’s feet caught a small rock, flipping him sideways, and he crashed into — and through — the wall with a dull thud.

The four Cav troopers stood absolutely motionless, their vision obscured by the sudden cloud of dust that filled the chamber. Reno reflexively looked upward and braced himself for falling rocks. All he could hear was the clatter of pebbles bouncing off battlesuit armor.

“I hope that wasn’t a load-bearing column,” Miller’s voice at last came through the wave of dust.  “Harness broke.”

“Hmph. You’re alive. Nice. I give it an 8.5 out of 10.” Reno stepped through the now-wider passage entrance to find the close combat specialist half-buried in rock shards and gravel. “Your feet came apart in the pike position, there.”

“Permission to insult the First Sergeant?” Miller asked.

“Dee-nied.”

Gamespeak. Turn 24. The entry requirement for the cave complex’s next node is Advance-3. Everybody in the squad, except Bernardo and the squad leader, has the Advance skill. I determine to check first for the CC specialist with skill Advance 3 and draw the “+” RN chit, which means I draw two more RNs and add them. I draw RN4 and RN5, for a total of RN9, three successes. Miller solves the transportation problem all by himself and the squad advances into the node.

The passageway ran deeper underground, widening slightly as the squad moved forward.  Reno expected to find some sort of countermeasures left by the Marines — a mine or a grenade trap — but March and Buergel on point encountered nothing.

Both point troopers simultaneously stopped and killed their suit lights. Everyone else rapidly did likewise, leaving the squad squatting silently in pitch darkness. Reno switched to thermal imaging and quietly made his way forward.

“Motion sensor,” March whispered. “Two blips at 175. Range 30. Gone now.”

Reno nodded silently. Thermal imaging showed nothing ahead. He could hear water dripping somewhere; a slight echo made him think they were at the edge of a bigger opening in the cavern.

“Looked like a possible cavern chamber before we switched off,” March continued. “Maybe 5 meters.”

“I’ll get a snapshot.” Reno crawled past the troopers on his hands and knees. He moved forward until his hands felt the passage floor drop away slightly. A millisecond burst from his suit’s ranging system was all he needed; with luck, such a short burst of electronic emissions wouldn’t send any Robbies nearby spinning around with guns blazing.

It was a big cavern, 60 meters across at its widest and over 150 meters long. What the snapshot could capture of the ceiling was, in places, 20 meters above. The cave floor was dotted with a few rocky piles and stalagmites. A particularly large rock feature stood about 30 meters away to the south.

As Reno lie there pondering his next move, Bernardo crawled up beside him. Silently, the Pathfinder pulled one of the gadgets out of his kit and started waving it around. He pushed his helmet against Reno’s so the sound would travel between them without vox or comm link.

“Piss,” he said simply.

“This is no time for a Winslow impersonation,” Reno grumbled.

“It’s science, First Sergeant.”

“Enlighten me, Mr. Wizard.”

“The atmosphere on this planet has too little oxygen for us to breathe,” Bernardo explained. “But it’s still very Earth-like. No naturally occurring dangerous gases like ammonia, for example. My detector is registering trace ammonia down here, however. On Earth, we use the same type of equipment for remote battlefield sensors because ammonia is a by-product of bacteria working on urine. So I figure either there have been people down here for a few hours, or some other big thing that pisses just like us calls this place home.”

“Well, if it’s some big, toothy thing with an attitude and an overactive bladder, you’re the first person it gets to eat,” Reno advised. He flipped on his lights and his suit’s vox system.

“This is Bravo, 1-7 Cav,” he called out. “Identify.”

A civilian-style environment helmet popped out from one side of the suspect rocky pile.

“Uh. I’m Carter. Xenobiologist.” The man stood and another figure popped up beside him. “This is my assistant, Janek. We sure are glad to see you guys. All that noise a while back, we thought it was the AI trying to get through the caves.”

Reno stood and descended a small slope toward them as the rest of the squad fired up their lights.

“We had a little chat with Robbie upstairs,” the First Sergeant said. “He’s having some mechanical problems.”

“Do you have a medic?” Carter asked. “We’ve got two wounded Marines here. I patched their suits and they’re stable, but neither is conscious right now.”

“Medic’s in orbit.” Reno turned to look back at the troopers as they emerged into the cavern. “Mr. Wizard, rub some dirt on those Marines and get ‘em back in the game. Tex, let’s get your LBE repaired. You’ve got some weight to carry. Biggest suit totes the most gear.”

Gamespeak. Turn 24 (continued). The node’s Event string is 4+/A. I draw RN2, so no contact. The node is also marked with a “science outpost,” so the squad gets an RN draw to search for survivors. RN of 4 or less indicates one “scientist” RN of 5+ indicates two; the squad must rescue a total of four survivor “points” to complete the mission. I draw RN5, two survivors, which puts them half-way to their goal. The node is marked Explored and play proceeds to the next turn.

Hundreds of the plants covered the top of rocky escarpment which rose 30 or 40 meters from the sand sea. Clumped in groups of five or six plants, they rose maybe 4 meters and the bottoms of their thorny caps extended uniformly to within maybe 1.5 meters of the ground. Tracking down the science party’s survivor in this terrain wasn’t going to be easy.

“My toxin test is negative,” Bernardo continued. “Still, everybody should avoid getting poked by these thorns. They probably can’t penetrate our battlesuits. But who wants to volunteer to find out?”

Winslow had flown the first drone into the face of the escarpment, and Reno didn’t want to expend a second one unless he absolutely had to. The squad would try to track down survivors the old-fashioned way — at least until their First Sergeant lost patience.

Gamespeak: Turn 28. The entry requirement for the first node in Cave Complex A is “Tracking 2″. Only the Specialist Explorer, Bernardo, has the tracking skill. I draw RN2 for 0 success levels. The squad stays where it is. Since an Event has already been triggered on their current node, there is no Event check and the turn ends.

The Assault team... deadly.

Most of the squad held in a small clearing near the edge of the escarpment while Bernardo crept farther into the cactus-stool forest with his search gear. Reno sent Buergel and Marsh along with him as security, although they kept 15 meters or so behind the Pathfinder so they didn’t interfere with his various scanners and sniffers.

“Something over here, First Sergeant,” Bernardo announced after 15 minutes of rooting around. “It’s not happy. Check your TID.”

Reno switched his TID to view Bernardo’s video feed. He was looking at a long bowl of loose sand, free from overhanging plants. Two patterns were easily visible in the sand, trailing down the length of the narrow patch for a good 20 meters.

“Looks like footprints here,” Bernardo said. “Two people. Our science team. And over here, this looks like…”

“Robbie,” Reno finished for him. The four-legged tracks of the AI “Grunts” — their basic combat model — were unmistakable. “Maybe… mmmm… four of them?”

“Three, I think,” Bernardo said. “Heading south-west toward that uplift.”

Gamespeak: Turn 27. For the Tracking skill check, I draw RN6 for two successes. Bernardo spots the path of the missing science team. The Event string for the node is “5+/A” and the Event check is RN5. Contact! I draw RN4 on the Enemy Presence Table, yielding a result of 3 “Drones”.

It had been a couple of years since Reno last fought the AI, but he understood how to deal with them. The Grunt models stood about 1.5 meters high, with vaguely humanoid upper bodies fitted onto a drive unit with four rotating, articulated legs. Their “head” was extensible, allowing them to squat behind low bits of terrain while raising their main sensors another 2 or 3 meters. Keeping their frames under cover, they could fire small grenades with fair accuracy. They could also use their “popup” sensors to track an approaching enemy, then spring into the open to cut loose with their long-barreled automatics.

Robots stink at melee combat.

The aiming system for the automatic weapon on an AI Grunt wasn’t very agile, however. Robbie didn’t care much for close combat, and he wasn’t very good at it. Get close enough to put a chain blade into him, and he was screwed.

“OK, One-Seven, listen up,” Reno said. “A quick primer on proper etiquette for greeting Mister Robert. We’re not going to fuck around with these gun-toting vibrators. Get in close and open ‘em up like canned dog food. Phillips, Oppenheimer, pop those flamers and mount your chain blades. This is a no-comms approach, so hand signals only. Kill your uplinks and tactical locaters. The less EM we broadcast, the harder we are to spot. Buergel, Marsh, take point. When you make contact, you stop and hammer whatever you see. Everybody else, flank their fire lanes, run fast. I’ll lay down cover with Sergeant’s Time, then you get so close you can scoop their guts out with a spoon.”

He paused and watched while the assault troopers pulled the quick-relase locks and holstered their combo flamers. They replaced them with wicked-looking power chain blades that extended a half-meter from the front of their VRF barrels.

“Stay alert,” the sergeant instructed. “Keep quiet. Be lethal. Move out.”

The squad moved another 100 meters or so toward a sharp uplift in the escarpment. As they got closer, Reno could see a large split in the giant rock slab. Torn vegetation and more footprints led directly toward it.

Phillips and Oppenheimer abruptly froze and threw up hand signals for the squad to stop and drop. Phillips turned to look back toward Reno, put up three fingers, then pointed straight ahead. The sergeant nodded. He moved up a few meters until he found a clear overhead for his grenade launcher, then signalled for the squad to attack in five seconds.

As the two fire team troopers cut loose with their heavy automatics, Reno hit the master switch on his battlesuit’s electronics. His helmet’s TID lit up with target and range information. The ABG-12′s fire control system automatically slaved to the suit’s sophisticated sensors. The four assaulting troopers had taken maybe four running steps when Reno’s TID flashed the little red “meatball” that indicated the launcher rack had a firing solution.

“Sergeant’s Time!” Reno shouted as he thumbed the firing stud. The launcher coughed three times in quick succession as it spat three pairs of explosive charges downrange. Robbie was only about 65 meters away. One grenade fouled off and struck the overhang behind the three robots, sending a spray of high-velocity rock shards into the air. The other five grenades rippled down the length of the rocky hollow. One of the squat, four-legged robots took a direct hit; everything from its legs up simply vanished in an angry, orange flash. The other two machines were pummeled by the heavy blasts and rain of debris. One of them sprayed automatic gunfire wildly into the air as it banged into the side of the narrow canyon.

Before the machines could recover, the Cav troopers were into them. The high-pitched whine of Miller’s battlesaw gave way to the screech of rending metal as he used the momentum of his heavy battlesuit to barrel into one of them. He slammed the gutted wreck into the rocky face, then turned to seek another target.

Basinger circled off to the right, pumping sabot rounds at the remaining robot. He checked his fire as Miller, Phillips and Oppenheimer all closed in. The robot’s combat logic went into panic mode and started firing grenades in all directions. One of the grenades rocked Miller, but his suit’s heavy armor shrugged off the shrapnel. In a matter of seconds, the Cav troopers reduced the machine to a smoking heap of scrap metal.

Gamespeak: Turn 27. Combat Round 1. I draw RN3 for the Command check. With +1 for Reno’s ADC Talent, the squad leader gets a Command Point. He issues the Deploy order for a -1 modifier to the Range Table. Range check is RN2, so the first round will be at Melee range. The squad expends a Grenade (G) resource — Sergeant’s Time — which scores 4 hits. The Fire team, Close Combat specialist and Shotgunner score successes on their Melee skill checks, for a total of 7 hits against the three robots. AI “Drone” units have a Melee skill of 5; they score no successes. The robots have an enhanced armor save (RN 3+ vice the normal RN 4+). All three make their armor save, leaving 4 total hits. Drones have two wounds, so one robot is KIA; the other two get one wound each.

Turn 27. Combat Round 2. I draw RN6 for the Command check, again yielding 1 CP. Another Deploy order. RN3 on the Range check keeps the combat at Melee range. The Assault team and CC specialist get Melee successes. The Assault team’s “Deadly Strike” Talent yields 2 wounds per success, so that’s a total of 3 wounds. Both robots make armor saves again, but the leftover wound kills off another one. In return the robots score 1 wound, which is assigned to the CC specialist — who has both heavy armor (save on RN4+) and three wounds, thanks to his “Bull Strength” Talent. He makes his save, so the wound is cancelled.

Turn 27. Combat Round 3. The Command check again yields a CP, so another Deploy order. Range check is RN2, so combat is again at Melee range. The Assault team pulls RN6 for two successes (four wounds), the CC specialist gets another success and the Shotgunner (with two Melee attacks) scores two more successes — a total of 7 wounds. The robot fails to score a success, blows its superfluous armor, takes 7 wounds and ends up looking like a microwave oven dropped out of a 20-story building. The node gets an Event marker and play proceeds to the next turn.

“Uhhh. No.” Reno looked up at the silvery orb of the planet hanging almost directly overhead. Between 18 Scorpii Alpha’s high albedo and the warm, yellow light of the star that squatted low on the horizon, it was as bright as high noon anywhere on Earth. “Specialist Ramsay, have you just wrecked the taxpayers’ brand-new trak?”

“No, First Sergeant,” Ramsay replied. “It’s just a dent. A big dent, I’ll admit. But there’s a lot of dead space up there, to soak up HEAT rounds.”

“When we came down off the escarpment and I said ‘hit it, Ramsay,’” Reno said, “I meant ‘go fast,’ not ‘drive this fucking thing into the first big rock you find’.” The rolled ceramite armor had taken a pretty stout wallop, but everything appeared intact. Reno motioned for Ramsay to get back in the APC. “We’ve wasted enough time staring at your souvenir. Let’s get going.”

“Those new balloon tires get loose on the hard pack and I cornered too hard,” Ramsay said. “I got this, Top. It won’t happen again.”

The APC takes a damage point.

Gamespeak: Turn 30 (The Space Infantry turn track runs backward from 30 to 0). A skill check (Pilot @ 2 successes needed) is required to enter the first map node. Only the APC driver has the Pilot skill (Pilot-3), and the skill can’t be influenced by the squad leader’s Command ability. The APC driver draws a random number (RN) of 6. Divide that by his skill level (3) and the squad gets two successes to advance onto the node. Ramsay floors it. The Event String for the node is “5+/Damage”. On an RN of 5 or higher, the APC takes an automatic 1 point of damage (it has a hefty 4 damage points). The RN drawn is another 6. Literally translating the First Sergeant’s exhortation, Ramsay indeed “hits it.” The APC takes 1 damage point. The node gets an Event marker, and play proceeds to the next turn.

Thirty minutes out from the hard shelf, the sand turned soft and sugary. Even with high-volume tires mounted on the APC, it was difficult to move with any speed. Reno ordered the first recon drone sent aloft to look for the best route to the first cave complex.

Like nearly every other team in the troop, the Intel guys were short-handed. The troop’s S2 missed the departure from High Point, as did the Intel team sergeant. Aside from the Specialist in charge, they had one other trained drone operator; he was landing at the science station with 2nd Squad to look for survivors. Troopers LaDue and Winslow “volunteered” to run the drones for 1st Squad.

The recon module took up half the space in the APC’s cargo bay. Rumor was that the thing was designed to accommodate two operators, although nobody had ever seen proof of the claim. The two troopers were practically sitting on top of each other. LaDue ran the electronics; before Audie Murphy’s hasty deployment, he’d been studying for admission to Intel School. Winslow was widely known as the squadron’s top rec-hall joystick jockey, and Reno figured Tri-D games weren’t that much different from flying drones.

Between them, they figured out how to get the drone’s G-Band Ladar working. G-Band had some ground-penetrating properties, so they could find areas of hard pack for Ramsay to follow toward the cave complex. Before long, the mountainous shelf that concealed what the Tac Readout designated “Cave Complex A” appeared on the horizon.

Gamespeak: Turn 29. The entry requirement for the next node is “Pilot 3,” which requires three success levels of Pilot skill checks. The APC pilot’s skill check is RN3, for one success level. Not wanting to spend two or three more turns entering the map’s second node, the squad leader expends an “I” — Intel — resource to gain 2 automatic success levels. Three total successes allow the squad to enter the node.

“First Sergeant!” LaDue called from the back of the APC, “Take a look at my ladar return on your TID.”

Reno switched his Tactical Information Display to the drone’s ladar transmission. He could see the light green reflection of the hard pack down one side. LaDue was focusing the ladar on a long, darker reflection off to the left. The readout said the drone was about 3 km ahead of them.

“Ramsay, slow it down,” Reno instructed. “Winslow, pylon turn on that big blob and quit jerking the drone around.”

“That blob is moving straight for us, Top,” Winslow pointed out. “Under the surface. Fast.”

Gamespeak: Turn 29 (continued). The Event String for the node is “3+/S”. The Event Check is RN3. Contact!

Keep sand worms far away.

“Sand worm. Shit!” Reno stood and grabbed a hand rail. “Ramsay, halt! Coyle, guns out! First Squad, lock and load!”

The APC lurched to a stop as the gunner, Trooper Coyle, strapped into the flat turret’s cradle. As he punched up the gun power, his helmet’s TID lit up with data from the fire control system, augmented by the drone’s ladar feed.

“Sub-surface contact approaching at 1,500 meters,” he called out. “Speed is nearly 90 kliks.”

“Select sabot,” Reno instructed. “Punch holes in that thing as soon as you have a shot.” He turned to Ramsay. “Keep your trak on the hard pack. Maybe these things don’t like the crunchy bits.”

He turned and looked down the length of the troop compartment. Everybody was gunned-up and ready.

“First team, south 30 meters,” Reno instructed. “Second team, north 30 meters. Miller, you and Basinger stay right in the middle and make sure that big fucking blob doesn’t get close to my beautiful, customized APC. Do you read me, One-Seven?”

“Garryowen!” the squad replied in unison.

“First Squad…” Reno yanked on the yoke to pop both hatches open, “Go!”

The troopers knew their business. CPL Buergel and Trooper March, armed with heavy automatics and underslung grenade launchers, sprinted out the port hatch, followed by the squad’s close combat specialist, CPL Miller, in his heavy battlesuit. CPL Phillips and Trooper Oppenheimer dropped out the starboard hatch. They each carried a small-caliber VRF (Very Rapid Fire) automatic — a “room sweeper” — coupled with an underslung flamer. They were followed closely by Trooper Basinger with his 4-gauge, belt-fed shotgun.

The troop Pathfinder, SPC Bernardo, armed only with a handgun, stayed behind in the trak with his search-and-rescue gear.

Reno’s command battlesuit was loaded with comms and surveillance gear. He carried a RDP (Rapid Discharge Pulse) laser that could do double-duty as a laser designator for the gunships — when they were available — and for squad-carried laser-guided weapons. His suit also mounted a bit of gear all the troopers called “Sergeant’s Time,” the ABG-12 ordnance rack, which could fire a lethal pattern of a half-dozen 2 kg grenades in half a second.

“Ready to git some, Tex?” Reno knelt down next to Miller, about 20 meters off to the left front of the APC. Nobody could really crouch or kneel in a heavy battlesuit, so Miller just stood there like a big gorilla with a chainsaw on his right arm and a room sweeper on his left.

“Ramsay is probably hoping that thing is dead long before it gets to me,” Miller replied. “Me?” He revved up the chainsaw. “Bring it on, Top.”

“500 meters,” Coyle called out from the APC turret.

“Hey, First Sergeant,” that was Trooper Basinger, crouching down about 20 meters off to Reno’s right. “What do we do if that thing doesn’t surface until it’s right under us?”

“Shoot faster.”

“It’s shallowing!” Coyle announced. “Depth 20 meters. 15… 10…”

The worm exploded from beneath the desert’s surface in a massive spray of sand, all gray and brown scales, with a yawning maw ringed by dagger-like, black teeth. How big were these things supposed to be? Reno had read the tactical database, but the science reports were still slim. This one was at least 5 meters across, and maybe 40 or 50 meters long.

The 30mm chain gun on the APC coughed to life the instant the worm broke the surface. Nobody waited for Reno to tell them what to do; the skirmish line of Cav troopers erupted in a cacaphony of automatic weapons fire. That was one big target.

While it was slightly slower now on the surface, the worm still moved at a pretty good clip. It was avoiding the hard pack, circling slightly to the south of the troopers and still about 350 meters away. Reno motioned for the assault team and Basinger to swing around toward the front, to keep their weapons bearing.

A series of projectiles — or something — cracked over Miller’s head and clanged loudly against the armor down the side of the APC.

“Did that thing just blow snot on me?” Ramsay asked from inside the APC.

“Worm jizz!” Winslow shouted.

“Looked like a discharge of some kind from a blow hole, I think,” LaDue said. “Everybody stay low. That shit dented the trak!”

Chunks of scales flew and gouts of wet, blue-green mist exploded from the worm’s top as the chain gun’s rounds finally hit home. Fire from Phillips’ and Oppenheimer’s VRF guns cut a jagged slice through the heavy scales.

The worm paused for a moment, still 200 meters distant, and reared up.

“Hey! We’re pissing it off!” Basinger moved around beside Reno. “Switching to PTF!” He pulled the selector switch on his ammo feed to change from standard slugs to penetrating tungsten flechette rounds. It was all he could do to keep his feet when the big gun started spitting blasts of hyper-velocity needles.

The worm dropped down again. Staggered by the squad’s fire, it blew out another stream of projectiles which sailed wide of the APC. A volley of 30mm rounds from the APC ripped into the creature’s open jaw and chewed up one side. Half of its “head” suddenly vaporized in a shower of sand and goo. 150 meters short of the squad, the worm slumped to a stop.

“Do you think they’re better deep-fried, or baked?” Winslow asked.

Gamespeak: Turn 29. Combat Round 1. The first step is a Command Skill check. The RN is 3, but our squad leader gets +1 for his “Aide-de-Camp” Talent. The total of 4 gives him 1 Command Point. He uses his 1 CP to order the squad to disembark the APC. Note that the Specialist Explorer (Bernardo) “stays behind.” Specialists don’t participate in combat unless there are fewer than three combat units remaining in the squad. For Range Determination, I draw RN0, so the range is “Fire”. I draw RNs for each of the squad’s four combat teams, but only the Assault Team (Phillips and Oppenheimer) score a hit. The APC gunner (Coyle) also scores a hit. The squad’s single wound checks against the worm’s armor, but the critter blows his save. The APC hit is armor-piercing, with no save allowed, so the worm takes two wounds (it has four wounds). The worm scores a hit with its fire attack, which I assign to the APC. The APC makes its armor save, so no wound is recorded.

Turn 29. Combat Round 2. Again, the squad leader draws a Command check and gets 1 CP. He gives the order “Deploy,” which subtracts 1 from the Range Table RN draw. The squad will be happier if they keep the thing at arm’s length. Range Determination RN is 4. The Deploy order reduces this to 3, and the Fire Team’s “Tactician” Talent subtracts 1 more for a total of 2. “Fire” range again. The squad draws three Fire successes (Assault Team again, Miller, Basinger) this time, and the APC gunner also gets a hit. The worm misses. The APC’s hit is armor-piercing, so that’s the third wound. The worm makes both armor saves, but it doesn’t matter. The third hit converts to a wound, and the worm is toast.

The node gets an Event marker, and play proceeds to Turn 28.