DENEB THREE
THE DRAGON TEETH that lined one end of the rain-soaked，
fog-shrouded valley looked like something that belonged in the
Second World War on old Earth. Directly in front of them were
several strands of concertina wiring swinging in the wind
generated by the on-going thunderstorm， and behind that，
outlmcd by the flashing of green-gold lightning was a concrete
pillbox that could rake the whole approach with machine gun，
laser， and mortar fire. On the far side of the valley， just visible
through the sheets of dark rain， was an open plain that would
allow the tanks to spread out and engulf the majority of the
alien infantry， if they could get through.
Second Lieutenant David Steven Jefferson crouched in the
thick mud behind one of the dragon teeth and watched as the
machine gun probed again. Flashes of orange from the muzzle
and then streaks of bright red from the tracers， some of them
striking the wet ground and then tumbling skyward. Jefferson
didn t move as the rounds came close， splashing him with mud.
\"Okay， Lieutenant，\" yelled Staff Sergeant Richard Mason.
He had to raise his voice to be heard over the hammering of the
distant gun and the crashing of the thunder that masked the
enemy movements. \" Okay，\" he repeated. \"You got us into
this. How the hell you going to get us out ?\"
Jefferson nodded because it was a good question. Unfortu-
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