The suit is a wonderful creation, but no juice, no go. If you're inside one and it shuts down, there's no way you're going to move it. Not a chance. The designers understood this, and built in a few safeguards for just the kinda spot I was in. You can get out of a dead suit. It ain't easy, but it can be done.

I hopped to it as soon as everything in my suit went dead. Step one is to get your hand free. There's actually plenty of space inside a suit, because of the little force-feedback sensors. They need a few inches of wiggle room, and because the suit was dead, those were too. I shook my hand all around and forced all of the pin-like sensors in as far as they would go. If my suit were powered up it would've been screaming at this; suits are built to be uncomfortable when the sensors aren't slack, which is why they move. As it was, it gave me room to maneuver.

Once I popped my hand out of the gauntlet I shifted my shoulder back to get my fingers at the inside of the wrist mechanism of the suit. There's a series of manually-controlled snaps on the inside, and I proceeded to pop them all off. Once they're off, make a fist and punch, and the suit's gauntlet should pop off. It took me a few tries and some bloody knuckles, but I was free of that.

Then you have to try and squeeze your whole body into the arm of your suit. Not literally, but it feels like it. Reach as far down as you can, to give your wrist room to move, then catch the first few snaps along the suit's forearm, on the outside. Unlike the wrist snaps, these have to be on the outside for some reason they didn't bother to tell me. Once the first couple of these are clear, you can peel back the first few segments of the forearm, and from there it gets easier. Although it still feels like you're a snake trying to molt.

Once you're free up to the wrist, it's just a matter of getting to your can-opener. I wasn't sure if these things were affected by EMPs but lucky for me, they aren't. Solid-state mechanics or something like that. I'm not sure. Either way, I set to work popping open my suit along the

waist where it could hinge out, and sorta forgot that I was in a crouch. I ended up dangling down by my waist before I could entice the leg segments into letting me go, then I spilled out onto the ground.

I looked to be the first one out, which is what any good squad leader should hope for, and I glanced around quickly, looking for the nearest trooper. DiMaglio, about a hundred feet away to my left, across an intersection. Bless him, closing up on my left flank like I told him to. At least I thought it was DiMaglio, not that I could tell him from Adam in that big ape suit. But it's where he would've been, so I guessed it was him. I glanced at him, then back at Bright on the ground. The Book told me to get my house in order before I started trying for pick-up on the wounded, so I headed for DiMaglio. I broke into a run and got a couple of feet before I realized what I'd forgotten. Guns! Stupid again! Here I was in the middle of a war, and I was about to run across the street with a can opener and a smile. I darted back to my suit – all opened up like an ugly metal flower - and pulled two pistols out of the belt. One was small and handheld, the other was small and handheld for a suited trooper, which meant you had to use two hands and it had a shoulder stock. I shoved the little one in my belt, hefted the big one, and took off for DiMaglio.

He was face down; the EMP looked to have caught him at a bad time. I hoped he hadn't been in the air, but with the freeze he shoulda been on deck. The telltales on his suit were all dead of course, so the only way to find out if he was too was to crack him open. I set to work on his waist and just before I was done, his right gauntlet started wriggling: he was trying to get out like I had. I cracked him open the rest of the way and dragged him out.

"Hey, thanks, Dean," he said, panting.

"Alright, we've gotta move. Come on." DiMaglio nodded, dragging himself to his feet. "Weapons and ammo," I called back as I darted for Bright.

I was moving into the intersection and had – once again – completely forgotten I was in a war when I heard a missile streak overhead. I was at least smart enough not to hit the deck in the middle of the road, and managed to get myself to the nearest building and peer down the road. Whatever had fired the shot wasn't around, so I wrote it off for the moment, but the ten or so Skinny infantry weren't quite so easy to dismiss. They were about two blocks out, may or may not have spotted me, and were moving my direction.

DiMaglio was crouched against the opposite building, just like me but on the wrong side of the intersection. I had time to spare a glance back at Bright and my dead suit to make sure no one was behind me, then waved hard at DiMaglio and started him running my way. He was about halfway across the intersection when the Skinnies spotted him, and that's when I opened up with the big pistol. I call it a pistol, but without a suit it's really a short rifle with a long stock. I convinced them that shooting at DiMaglio would be a bad idea, and that taking cover themselves would be a good one. Didn't hit anything, I'm pretty sure, but that's usually not the point, now is it? I emptied a clip and automatically reached for another one when I realized I didn't have any more.

DiMaglio pulled in behind me. "Clip, and go check Bright," I ordered. I reloaded with what he gave me and poked my head around the corner, but couldn't see anyone. And then I had plenty of time to think of everything I'd done wrong. Starting with all the things I'd done before the EMP, and ending with the fact that I'd just now sent DiMaglio to do what should've been my job, and that I had no idea where any of my squad was. And tactically I was all backwards: instead of knowing where the baddies were and moving, they knew where I was and I was holding still. But with Bright out there wasn't much I could do about that.

I heard a few shots and stuck my head around the corner again. There was Jonesy, haulin' down the middle of the street like the dumb lunatic he always was, with the Skinnies taking shots at him. I bellowed something indistinct at him and he ducked into a doorway, then I opened up with another clip and this time I got someone. That scared them enough that they kept their heads down and Jonesy trotted up.

"Hey, sir. I dinged up my suit pretty good, I was in the air when it hit."

"Seen any sign of anyone else?"

"No, sir." I sized him up. Didn't look hurt, only had his small pistol with him. Then I remembered; scout suits don't come with those. I was lucky he brought anything at all.

"Take this, hold this corner. Bright's over there," I gestured with my head while handing him the big pistol, "and we're gonna set up a firebase. Did you get his location before the EMP hit?" He said 'yessir,' so I took that as a good sign. Jonesy was a bit behind the curve, so if he'd figured things out chances were good that everyone else had too. "Alright, we'll set up a fire base and hope people come here.

DiMaglio was standing over Bright but hadn't popped him open yet. I trotted up and asked why. "Who knows how he landed? We could kill him getting him out. He could be all banged up in there, and we've got no way to know." Made sense to me, so I set about the next thing I could think of.

There were enough bits and pieces along the road to make something of a wall, so DiMaglio and I did. Then we grabbed my suit rifle – the big hundred-fifty-pounder – and lugged it over behind the wall. It's got a bi-pod built in so when you're not in a suit, it can be used as a darn effective heavy automatic gun. With DiMaglio behind that on the east side and Jonesy covering the west, I felt a bit better.

I started raiding my suit for grenades and other sundry consumables, emptying the Y-rack and laying things out. Then Bright's suit as well, then DiMaglio's. By this point, DiMaglio had gotten some contacts on the east corner, but with that rifle he put an APC out of commission, and that made 'em think twice. All the while I was thinking that I wasn't in quite as tight a spot as I'd thought I was. Sure, there were a few Skinnies coming at us, but without comm – and they sure didn't have comm after that EMP – they couldn't tell anyone what they'd found. And I'd let everyone from my own squad on up to the Lieutenant know where I'd be, and that's where I was, so that's where I planned to stay. That got me feeling a bit better.

I started thinking about kicking in a door or two and getting the feel for a building when two more from my squad showed up. Bester and Aligma, the two I'd put on the East. These guys rolled up, strapped with all the hand-helds they could salvage, a few weapons from some Skinnies they'd met and had a chat with, and as much Y-rack ordnance as they could bring, too. I set them to work installing Bright's rifle on the western corner to relieve Jonesy.

This is about where things started to get real hairy. I don't remember much from this, but it was about fifteen minutes of good, heavy fighting, the kind that makes you glad that basic was so tough, even if you weren't glad when it was happening. The Skinnies had rounded up enough support that they made a real push up the eastern side. When they met DiMaglio and my rifle they fell back some because that thing was stronger than anything they could be expected to lug around themselves. DiMaglio held on through some pretty heavy fire including grenades and incendiary rounds, and held that corner for us. They moved up the west in slightly less strength, too, at the same time. I sent Bester and Aligma through the building in front of us, and they managed to get to a third-floor strong point and lay down some good fire on the eastern flank that took off the heat.

They had enough reserves that they swung farther around to the east while keeping up the pressure, and pretty soon DiMaglio had turned so that he was laying down fire due east, while I was supporting with fire to the north, and Bester and Aligma were helping from up high. About the time DiMaglio called "Last clip!" I heard Jonesy shout "Incoming!" and my stomach dropped to my heels. I tossed DiMaglio a belt full of grenades as party favors and took off to Jonesy's position.

The heavy mech was up and tromping down the western road. I dunno how it was up after that EMP, but it was. Maybe our suits would boot back up, now, but only mine was around to test, and I had better things to do. I took a few shots up the road at the infantry, Jonesy did too, and I tried to think. Big mean thing incoming, no way to move, and had wounded. No comm. Bad situation all around.

I mentally ticked through the ordnance we had and came up empty. Some grenades, but those wouldn't stop it or even slow it down, and no way was I going to get anyone close enough to use one. The only thing that could stop it was a rocket launcher, and we didn't have one of those, because the squad leader had it, and he was injured. Injured right next to me! I ran for the suit, kicking myself. If I made it out of this alive, it wouldn't be because of a surfeit of brains, that was for sure.

I ran over to Bright's suit about the time DiMaglio started throwing grenades for good measure, and that was when he got hit. Dunno what did it, but something caught him two in the chest and he went down. I screamed for Jonesy who came runnin', then I started doing some fast thinking. "Jonesy, toss me the medkit outta Bright's belt, then get Bester and Aligma down here!" DiMaglio wasn't hit bad, something small caliber, but it made a little hole going in and a good-sized hole coming out. Sounded like a lung was popped, too, so his body was ignoring all that throat stuff and trying to breathe through his chest. The med docs have mastered some things I'd never even have heard of, and sucking chest wounds was one. Used to be you'd just write someone off, but nowadays they've got something that comes out like shaving cream and sets up like concrete. I sprayed a few dollops in DiMaglio's front, rolled him over and gave him some extra-sized dollops in his back, and gave him a shot of the first thing I could find. He managed a little smile and handed me his gun.

The eastern edge was getting a might punchy by this point, having had no one to play with for a while. The last three of my squad ran out of the building and took a quick look at DiMaglio, but had the good sense to say nothing, start shooting, and wait for me to talk. "Alright, Jonesy, go keep that heavy interested, get him moving this way. Bester, you and Aligma load up Bright's launcher. Get the smallest thing you've got and put one in that building northeast. Enough to cause a ruckus. Then get up a few floors nearby and get ready to take down that heavy. Go!"

I kept up fire with whatever I had left, which wasn't much. The rifle was out, I was down to a last clip on the big pistol, and the two small ones weren't even enough to get noticed. Bester and Aligma hefted the launcher and blew the office building katty-corner from us into a buncha little pieces. Better than I'd hoped, because the southern wall fell out and effectively blocked our eastern flank. I fired north some, but it looks like the Skinnies had noticed the Heavy and were expecting to follow its advance in. So the fight all shifted west at that point.

I got over behind Jonesy and stood there while 60 feet of unpleasant (and near as many tons) came stomping down the road at us. It was a few blocks away, and you don't think about how fast something's moving when it's that big, but it only takes a few steps to cover a lot of ground. Jonesy and I held our fire and hoped it didn't notice us, but after a bit there was enough infantry closing in the last block that we just had to. Jonesy flipped it to full auto and ripped through sixty rounds in a couple of seconds, then got up and ran for it just as the autocannon opened up on his position. The rounds on that beast are about fist-sized, and they tore up that rifle but good. Then it was up to Bester.

The heavy stomped into the last block right about on time. I couldn't see what he was doing, but I knew the doctrine said Bester would be sighting right for the crotch; first of all because it's humiliating to get shot there, and secondly, that's the joints for both legs. A good hit could disable one or both, and that's as good as dead. I spent the whole time peering through two windows, wondering when Bester was gonna fire, and then he did.

Even the smallest thing Bright was packing was still designed to go a mile or so before it blew up. This went about a couple hundred feet, which is about the size of the explosion. I hit the deck a moment too late, and Jonesy had been leaning against the building anyway, but even so we felt the heat ripping through the intersection as that thing went off. I stuck my head up and saw the heavy toppling down – whether or not it was a good hit, that was enough for us. I ran up into the building to check on my boys; Bester was down and Aligma was dragging him. Between the two of us we managed to get him down to the street next to Bright and DiMaglio just in time for the next disaster to strike.

There was a vehicle incoming from the west, pretty fast, along the road we were holding. It didn't much look like it was gonna stop. But it didn't much look like something the Skinny military would be driving either. I didn't fire and motioned for Aligma and Jonesy not to either.

It was a Skinny vehicle, civilian, internal combustion. Simple enough that the EMP hadn't taken it out. A truck. And Claybaugh was driving it. "Sorry, sir, ran into a bit of trouble back there." I mentally awarded him every medal I could think of. He swung down out of the cab and pointed to the bed. "I got my suit up on it and another I found, I think maybe Jonesy's."

"How'd you get the suits on there?" I asked. Claybaugh pointed at the winch on the truck. A tow truck. I admit, I laughed out loud. "Alright, hoist up Bright, we'll see if we can hold back the ocean." We were down to handhelds and a single large pistol, but the Skinnies weren't about to go picking their way over the carcass of a heavy mech to get at us, and the few who thought about it got shots from us. I glanced back and saw Claybaugh hook the winch in Bright's belt and drag him up onto the bed, then lash him down with packing straps. All I could think was that if Bright was awake in there, he was going to be pissed, and if he wasn't, he would be when we told him about it.

"Alright, boys, we're leaving. Help me get these guys in." We piled into and onto the truck, then belted in the wounded for good measure. "Private, you got a rifle?" I called. Claybaugh answered 'no sir, but I got rounds,' so Aligma and I swung a rifle onto the back of the bed. Claybaugh hopped in the driver's seat, Jonesy took shotgun, and Aligma and I hopped on the bed and manned the rifle.

The back window was blown out anyway, so Claybaugh turned and shouted, "Where to?"

"Not here! Head south, step on it, and I'll tell you when you can step off!"

Claybaugh gunned the engine, popped out the clutch, and south we went.