Read Online No Other Gods by John Koetsier - Free Book Online

side.
                  The next fifteen minutes were agony. So close to action, and yet so necessary to remain patient, still, and silent. Slowly Kin made his way across the grass toward our position, being careful not to be spotted easily. Gradually the reds came closer and closer, their progress announced by regular signals from Tonia, relayed by Jaca above me in the tree. I locked gazes with Jaca and the others I could see, raising my fist and seeing theirs rise in response. We were ready.
                  The red army became audible. Three hundred men do not move silently. Jaca could see them himself now, and he could also see our scout with the “deer,” more than halfway across and picking up speed. At any moment now he would be discovered. Now even I could see them from the base of the tree. Don’t let them be as blind as yesterday’s sentry, I prayed. Discovery too late would be as bad as too early.
                  Then it happened.
                  One of the leading reds yelled and pointed. Kin turned where he was crouched in the taller grasses near the edge of the valley floor, saw the gazes of the leading soldiers, and opened up with his automatic rifle. He emptied a magazine into the reds, then abandoning stealth, turned and ran the last few fifteen or twenty meters into the forested edge. Past our positions — well past. He would return, slower, with Tonia. We would need all our guns for the next stage.
                  The reds were in an uproar. Maybe ten or so were down; the rest eager for blood. But there was some discipline to them — they did not all immediately charge off in pursuit, perfectly according to military protocol: they had no idea how many of us were here. And perfectly according to my plan: an instant charge by all three hundred would have overwhelmed us swiftly. Instead, Rast detached about fifty reds, sending them our way. The rest of them set up a hasty perimeter — for all they knew, the bulk of our forces were north of them. In any case, I was happy: they’d be occupied, engaged, but only just started when the next stage began … and just in the right aggressive mindset, I thought, to follow.
                  A sergeant shouted and the fifty headed in our direction, fast. Now timing was critical again, and discipline. We could not start firing until all of us — including our scout and spotter, were in position. And I did not want to fire until they were right upon us. If we didn’t destroy this entire detachment, some of them in close contact would notice our numbers — or lack thereof — and report it back. That would be fatal: the reds would no longer fear us, knowing they could overwhelm us quickly in any type of pitched battle.
                  They stepped closer, still moving quickly, rifles at the ready. Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes, some ancient warrior had said. (How did I know that, I wondered, then shook my head and focused on the present.) Personally, I wanted to hold fire until I smelled their nasty, rancid, slept-on-the-ground-last-night-in-the-dirt breath. The sergeant paused for half a moment, hand raised, at the first tree, almost right upon my position. Then he made a decision and left the valley floor, and triggered Armageddon.
                  Well, perhaps not quite. But at least a personal Armageddon for him and his fifty. How true that was, of course, I didn’t know until later.
                  Each of us had two long guns and plenty of ammo, and most were using both: one in each hand. Almost as one as soon the first red stepped under the first tree we opened fire on full auto, creating an instant miniature hell on the edge of the beautiful valley.
                  An avalanche of noise from sixteen submachine guns on full auto filled the air. Hundreds and then thousands of metallic projectiles immediately filled the