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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