“Thomas, pull the stack back in, you’re spreading yourselves too freakin’ thin,” Captain Markus Sanchez subvocalized as he called up the direct-to-mind heads-up display of the blue force tracker and breathed a sigh of relief.
Had there been any red dots on the other side of the concrete wall separating Freeman’s team from the parking garage they were about to enter, the spread-out stack would have become targets in a kill box with little hope of offering each other any cover fire. To their advantage was the fact that the insurgents didn’t have the force-on-force identification system, the metamaterial powered armor, the level of nighttime imagery, or training the United States Army had. Force multipliers being what they were, overconfidence, and more importantly, stupid mistakes could still get you killed just as dead.
“Roger that, Captain. I got ’em,” the young butterbar replied.
Markus liked the new second team leader a lot and knew from his performance records that he was a competent soldier, but as far as officers were concerned the kid was green—very green. He hadn’t seen actual combat either. Green or not, very quickly, the second lieutenant took care of the situation. The five blue dots in the captain’s mindview heads-up display (HUD) quickly stacked up in proper formation.
Markus made a mental note of all the blue dots overlaid on the terrain maps in his head. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but he knew he was looking for a sore thumb—something that stuck out. That part of the city was on a slight incline and all the streets ran either north and south or east and west. The tallest building couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve stories high and most of them were old and worn-out-looking sandstone colored blocks.