“Neither is the Exhibition Manual of Arms we used this morning. All right, we had our chance to show off without them whimpering about it, and now they’ve had theirs. At the moment, we’re even.”
“So we’re going to let it stand as a win for the Space Legion?” Spengler said, trying to sting the officer’s pride.
“Face it, Sergeant. We lost. They beat our time without passing up any obstacles … and they did it with ten times as many troops. Of course, we helped them. That was a pretty lackluster performance our boys put on today. Frankly I don’t think we deserved to win this event. We goofed off while they busted ass. That’s no way to come out on top.”
The master sergeant had the grace to look embarrassed.
“We didn’t think they could come on that strong, sir,” he muttered, avoiding the officer’s gaze.
“Uh-huh. We got cocky and overconfident to a point where we badly underestimated an opponent,” O’Donnel clarified. “If anything, Sergeant, we owe these Legionnaires a vote of thanks for teaching us a valuable lesson. I think we were damn lucky not to have learned it in real combat. At least this way, we’re still alive … and we get another chance.”
“You know, sir,” Spengler said carefully, as if surprised by his own words, “I never thought I’d say it, but I don’t think I’d relish taking that crew on in a real brawl.”
The major grimaced. “Don’t feel bad. I’ve been thinking much the same thing. Wouldn’t mind having them covering my flank, though … as long as we were sure they wouldn’t confuse us with the enemy.”