sir_

we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“We will move out in an extended watch formation, twenty meters between personnel, thirty meters between squads, scouts forward leaning left. If somebody misses the jump, the team falls out and recovers them using their winch system. If you miss the jump, don’t worry, your suit will automatically hit the anti-grav and your momentum will carry you to the face of the building. Use the universal clamp in your palm pad, clamp to the wall and wait for your buddies to recover you, or climb up hand over hand for that matter. The first rally point is the resupply rendezvous and we don’t need everybody there at first so if somebody misses, that troop’s team drops and only that team drops, everybody else drives the fuck on, is that clear?”
“Clear, sir.”
“If we take any fire from Posleen, those with weapons take them under fire. Kick their ass, don’t pee on ’em. Lay down all the fire you can and blow the fuckers away. We do not want to get held up on these rooftops without weapons.
“Now, just to get the feel for things, we’ll drop back and start moving forward across the roof as a platoon, not a cluster fuck, right?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Sergeant Green!”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to take this at a long slow lope.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All-righty then, move out.” The platoon moved back, slowly, and the NCOs got it sorted out. With the men in position, Mike got his headquarters’ squad, effectively Sergeant Green and the engineers, in place, right rear, and hollered, “Move ’em out!”
The scout team started forward in long bounding strides and the platoon, spread over nearly a half kilometer, perforce bounded out behind them. As they neared the edge Mike consulted with Michelle.
All of the scouts took the jump without a hitch and when several of the regular troops, naturally, balked, the suits overrode them and jumped anyway. As they crossed the next building, still without opposition or even harassing fire, the troops began to get into the rhythm of the run. Runners all, as any soldier had to be in the modern airborne, the comforting rhythm of a light run was an anodyne to their nerves and the speed and distance ­involved