Somerville led Cameron down some stairs to a wide underground room。 Cameron followed him silently as they negotiated their way through a maze of electronic radio equipment。 Two massive Cray XMP superputers took up an entire wall of the enormous subterranean room。
Somerville spoke as he walked。 〃I picked it up at around two…thirty this morning。 It was in English； so I knew it couldn't be alien。〃
〃Good thinking；〃 Cameron said； deadpan。
〃But the accent was definitely American； and considering the content； I called the Pentagon right away。〃 He turned to look at Cameron as he walked。 〃We have a direct number。〃
He said it with nerdy pride： The government thinks we're so important that they gave us a direct line。 Cameron figured that the number Somerville had was probably the number for the Pentagon's PR desk； a number that SETI could have found by looking up the Department of Defense in the phone book。 Cameron had it on his speed…dial。
〃Anyway；〃 Somerville said； 〃when they said that it wasn't one of their transmissions； I figured it was OK to give you guys at the paper a call。〃
〃We appreciate it；〃 Cameron said。
The two men arrived at a corner console。 It consisted of two screens mounted above a keyboard。 Next to the screens was a broadcast…quality reel…to…reel recording machine。
〃Wanna hear it？〃 Somerville asked； his finger poised above the PLAY button on the reel…to…reel machine。
〃Shoot。〃
Emmett Somerville hit the switch。 The reels began to rotate。
At first Cameron heard nothing； then static。 He looked expectantly at Emmett the Geek。
〃It's ing；〃 Somerville said。
There was a wash of some more static and then； suddenly； voices。
〃…copy； one…three…four…six…two…five… 〃
〃…contact lost due to ionospheric disturbance…〃
〃forward team…〃
〃…Scarecrow… 〃
〃…minus sixty…six point five… 〃
〃…solar flare disrupting radio…〃
〃…one…fifteen； twenty minutes； twelve seconds east…〃
〃…how；〃 static； 〃get there so…〃
〃…secondary team en route…〃
Pete Cameron slowly shut his eyes。 It was another bum steer。 Just more indecipherable military gobbledygook。
The transmission ended and he turned and saw that Somerville was watching him eagerly。 Clearly； the SETI technician wanted something to e of his discovery。 He was a nobody。 Worse； a nobody out in the middle of nowhere。 A guy who probably just wanted to see his name in the Washington Post in anything other than an obituary。 Cameron felt sorry for him。 He sighed。
〃Could you play it again for me；〃 he said； reluctantly pulling out his notepad。
Somerville practically leaped for the REWIND button。
The tape played again and Cameron dutifully took notes。
It was ironic； Schofield thought； that Petard； the last French mando； should be killed by one of his own weapons。 Especially when it was a weapon that France had obtained from the United States by virtue of their alliance under NATO。
The M18A1 mine is better known throughout the world as the 〃Claymore。〃 It is made up of a concave porcelain plate that contains hundreds of ball bearings embedded in a six…hundred…gram wad of C…4 plastic explosive。 In effect； a Claymore is a directable fragmentation grenade…its lethality is dependent not on the force of its relatively small initial blast； but rather on the devastating fan…shaped spray of shrapnel that it emits。 If one sits behind a Claymore； one will not be harmed by its shrapnel blast。 If one is caught in front of it； one will be shredded to pieces。
The most well…known characteristic of the Claymore； however； is the simple instruction label that one finds embossed on the forward face of the mine。 It reads： THIS SIDE TOWARD ENEMY。
Or； in French； BRAQUEZ CE C？Té SUR L'ENEMMI。
If you ever found yourself looking at those words； you knew you were looking at the wrong end of a Claymore。
The two Claymores in the drilling room had been central to the French mandos' last…ditch plan to beat the Marines。 After it was all over； Schofield pieced together that plan：
They had sent someone down to the drilling room； ahead of the others。 Once there； that person had set up the two Claymores so that they faced the door。 The Claymores would then be connected to a trip wire。
Then； the other French mandos would pretend to retreat to the drilling room； deliberately allowing the Marines to follow them。
Of course； the Marines would know that the drilling room was a dead end； so they would think that the French； in their desperate attempt to flee； had run themselves into a corner； into a trap。
Surrender would be inevitable。
But as the Marines entered the drilling room to secure the French troops； they would break the trip wire and set off the two Claymores。 The Marines would be cut to ribbons。
It was an audacious plan。 A plan that would have changed the course of the battle。
And it was cunning； too。 It turned a full…scale retreat… hell； a total surrender…into a decisive counterattack。
But what Petard and the French had not accounted for was that one of the American soldiers might e upon their trap while they were setting it。
Schofield was proud of Rebound。 Proud of how the young Marine had handled the situation。
Rather than blow the lid on the French plan and continue with unpredictable hand…to…hand fighting； Rebound had coolly allowed the French to believe that their plan was still afoot。
But he had changed one thing。
He had turned the Claymores around。
That was what Petard had seen when Rebound had spoken to him in the drilling room。 He had seen those chilling words。
THIS SIDE TOWARD ENEMY。
Pointing at him。
Rebound had got the better of him。 And when Rebound stepped forward across the trip wire； it was to be the last thing that Petard ever saw。 The battle； at last； was over。
An hour later； the station's lights were back on and all of the bodies； French and American； had been found and accounted for。 At least； those bodies that could be found。
The French had lost four men to the killer whales； the Americans； one。 Eight other French mandos and two more U。S。 Marines…Hollywood and Ratman…had been found in various locations around the ice station。 They had all been confirmed dead。
The Americans also had two wounded； both quite seriously。 Mother； who had lost one of her legs to the killer whale； and； rather surprisingly； Augustine 〃Samurai〃 Lau； the very first Marine to have been gunned down by the French。
Mother was faring better than Samurai。 Since her wound was a localized one…confined to the lower extremity of her left leg…she was still conscious。 In fact； she still had full movement in all of her other limbs。 The flow of blood from the wound had been stopped； and the methadone took care of what pain there was。 The only enemy that remained was shock。 Thus it was decided that Mother would remain in her storeroom on E…deck； under constant supervision。 To move her might trigger a fit。
Samurai； on the other hand； was in a much worse state。 He was in a self…induced a； his stomach having been ripped to shreds by Latissier's barrage of gunfire at the very beginning of the battle。
The young Marine's body had responded to the sudden trauma in the only way it knew how…it had switched itself off。 At the time they found him alive； Schofield had marveled at the ability of the human body to take care of itself in the face of such extreme crisis。 No amount of methadone or morphine could have quelled the pain of that many gunshot wounds。 So Samurai's body had done the next…best thing： it had simply turned off its sensory apparatus and was now awaiting external help。
The problem was whether or not Schofield could provide that external help。
Anything greater than basic medical knowledge is rare in a frontline unit。 The closest thing such units have to a doctor is the team medic； who is usually a low…level Corporal。 Legs Lane had been Schofield's medic； and he was now deader than dead。
Schofield walked quickly around the A…deck catwalk。 He'd just e up from E…deck； where he had checked on Mother； and was now wearing a new pair of silver antiflash glasses。 Mother had given them to him。 She'd said that in her state； she wouldn't be