Lori smiled. "I know," she said, "that is the kind of man I see you as, Ted. Your Marines are lucky." She sipped her wine and winked at Commander Peters. "Well, maybe now you will have an opportunity to 'cultivate relationships,' as you put it?"
Before Sturgeon could formulate a reply both witty and polite, Peters cleared his throat. "Lori, something's been bothering me lately. When we met at Chairman Arschmann's villa, you warned us not to trust Multan. But recently Ambassador Spears warned us not to trust Arschmann. Just whom can we trust?"
"Ah! Business!" Lori exclaimed, amused at the expression of relief that came over Sturgeon's face. "Trust no one," she said. "Well, you can trust me, of course. And the bandits."
At this, both Marines shot their eyebrows up. "Excuse me?" Peters's surprise was evident.
"Yes, the bandits. Oh, I don't mean trust them not to shoot you down if they can, but when it comes time to talk, they'll talk. But with Multan and Hauptmann, and even Kurt Arschmann, the time to be wary of them is when they talk."
"I haven't had a chance to follow up on what Ambassador Spears said, but why should we be wary of Kurt Arschmann? It was he who convinced your Council to ask for our help."
Lori was silent for a moment, slowly turning her wineglass in one hand. "I have known Kurt Arschmann all my life," she said at last. She spoke slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. "I admire Kurt very much. But he is the most dangerous man on this world. Your Ambassador Spears is a very perceptive man." She smiled briefly, remembering how he had boldly asked her to marry him. "He is dangerous because he is intelligent and very ambitious and he will let nothing stand in his way to get what he wants."
"And what is that?" Commander Peters asked.
Lori was about to answer when Dean's voice crackled excitedly over the brigadier's communicator.
Once inside the house, the boys took charge of Claypoole, in whom they sensed a playmate, and left Dean alone with Hway. Hway's sister, Gudia, remained disconsolately stuck with the boys. A smaller but even prettier version of her older sister, Gudia felt cheated when Hway appropriated Dean. Reluctantly, she followed Claypoole and her brothers, leaving Dean and Hway alone in the living room.
The pair stood for a moment in the high-ceilinged living room, and then Hway suggested they tour the formal gardens. "Grandmother is famous on Wanderjahr for her interest in horticulture," Hway said.
As they turned to go outside she asked, "What is your given name?"
"Private First Class," Dean answered without thinking. "Uh, just a joke, miss," he mumbled when he saw the bewilderment on Hway's face. "That's an old Marine Corps joke. My name is Joe and I'd appreciate it if you'd call me that."
"Joe," she said reflectively, and nodded. "Please call me Hway. 'Miss' sounds dreadfully formal."
"Joseph Finucane Dean," Dean said, "that's Finucane with a terminal e."
"With a terminal e." Hway nodded. "Well, Joe with the 'terminal e,' let's go see my grandmother's gardens."
The gardens stretched for several hectares around Lori's home and displayed both native and Terran species. The Terran trees and shrubs were all carefully labeled with their Latin names, and the Wanderjahrian species were tagged with the names the early colonists had given them. Groves of trees and larger shrubs had been artfully placed between luxuriant flower beds. Teams of gardeners labored at intervals among the flowers, waving cheerfully as the pair passed on the flagstone walkways.
In a beautiful grove of Wanderjahrian flora stood the life-size statue of a man. They paused before it. On the pedestal was a name. "Tran Van Hue," Dean read.
"My grandfather," Hway announced.
"Oh." Dean had wondered where Hway had gotten her high cheekbones and slightly olive complexion. He looked at the features on the statue, then back at the girl. "I remember my grandfather. I was fifteen when he died. My grandmother misses him very much."
"I don't know much at all about my grandparents. My father's been dead a long time too," Dean volunteered. "My mother died recently, when I was on a mission on a planet called Elneal."
"I'm so sorry, Joe. Do you have any siblings?"
"Naw. Just me. I'm the last of the Deans."
"You have no family, Joe," Hway said sadly.
"I guess not, unless you figure the guys in my squad and my platoon. There's old Claypoole, we're pretty tight. And there's Staff Sergeant Bass. Best platoon sergeant in the Corps. Top Myer, he's our first sergeant, he's tough, but fair. And our Old Man, Captain Conorado. Boy, Hway, they don't come better than those Marines! And since we've been with the headquarters, I've developed a lot of respect for Commander Peters and Brigadier Sturgeon too. Why, you couldn't ask to serve under a better officer and..."
Dean's face had begun to glow with pride as he talked about his Marines. Hway regarded him with a quizzical smile as he rattled on. Suddenly aware that he'd started babbling, or that Hway would think he had. Dean stopped in midsentence and blushed. She probably thinks I'm a damned schoolboy on his first date. Dean thought, embarrassed.
"Well, I miss my mom and my dad too, Hway," he said, "but life has to go on, you know. And right now the Corps manages to take up most of my time, so I seldom think about my family anymore."
Hway took Dean's hand in hers. "I am named after my grandfather's ancestral home, the city of Hway in what used to be Vietnam back on Old Earth. Many centuries ago American Marines fought a big battle there to free my father's ancestors. Perhaps you know about that war? It ended badly for my father's people, but things have a way of working out through time."
Dean was stunned. He certainly had heard of the Battle of Hue, fought in 1968, nearly five hundred years ago. He wondered if somehow he and this beautiful young woman standing in this grove on a world infinitely remote in time and space from her father's ancestral home might represent a confluence of human history, the closing of some kind of vast, cosmic cycle. He shivered with the thought, which was both delicious and a bit scary.
"Let's go watch the sun set!" Hway abruptly said. "About a kilometer on the other side of the woods that border this garden, cliffs overlook the Fotzi River! We'll have a beautiful view of the Gaiser peaks and the setting sun. We'll be back at the house in plenty of time for supper!" With that, dragging Dean by the hand, Hway started off for the woods.
The rays of the setting sun cast brilliant fingers of light between the trunks of the ancient hardwood forest as the pair emerged on the cliffs above the river. The view from there was absolutely breathtaking. The snowcapped peaks of the Gaisers, their tops a fiery orange in the dying sunlight, jutted skyward thirty kilometers to the north.
"Oh, this is beautiful," Dean whispered. He thought, Man, if any of the guys ever heard me talking like that, they'd think me a limpdick for sure! But the truth was, Joe Dean would've said anything to please the young lady beside him. He wondered how impressed Hway would've been had he said something like a "real" Marine, the way they talked back in the barracks: "Yeah, hot shit, honey. Now let's swap some spit!" Instantly he was reminded of Juanita's, back in Brosigville, and Maggie, lying on the stones, blood and brains oozing out of the bullet hole in her head. He forced the horrible image out of his mind. To give himself time to calm his nerves, he got a cigar out of a pocket and went to light it.
"No, Joe," Hway said, putting a hand on his arm. "Don't make fire here. We haven't had rain in months, everything's dry, you could start a forest fire."
He put the cigar away unlighted, sighed, and tried simply to enjoy the view. Yes, the scene really was beautiful. Its wild beauty reminded him of the northern regions on Arsenault, the Confederation training world where he'd gone through Boot Camp. A cold wind blew up from the river valley below, and without thinking. Dean held Hway close to his weak side, his blaster gripped firmly at sling arms over his right shoulder.
They stood like that for ten minutes. Meanwhile Dean became very conscious of the slim figure by his side, her arm now firmly around his waist.
"Don't you think we should be going hom
e now?" he asked at last. "I'm getting a bit hungry. How about you?"
Hway sighed. "A few minutes more, Joe. I've always loved this place, and I'm leaving Wanderjahr soon for school. I don't know how long before I can come home again."
Their reverie was broken by a metallic clatter from somewhere to the rear of where they were standing. Dean remembered a long sloping meadow off that way, sweeping down to the river several hundred meters below. He stiffened as he heard a man's voice carried to them on the wind.
"What is it?" Hway asked, startled. Dean unslung his blaster and automatically set the charging level at full power. "Get behind me," he ordered the girl. He released the weapon's safety. "Stay close," he said as he walked carefully back into the woods. Fortunately, the light was fading quickly, and it was almost dark under the towering trees. The large meadow, however, was aglow with the final rays of the setting sun. Up from the river marched a steady column of black figures carrying weapons.
Dean fell to one knee and spoke into the communicator strapped to his wrist. "FIST Six Actual, this is... this is..." Dean did not know what call sign to use. "PFC Dean. Sir. Over."
"FIST Six Actual. Go, Dean," Brigadier Sturgeon responded.
"Six Actual, be advised, sir, approximately forty armed men approaching your position from about one klick to your northeast. Are they supposed to be there? Over."
Sturgeon looked at Lori for an answer. She gave him a confused look and shook her head. "I don't have any armed people on my grounds."
"That's a negative," Sturgeon said into his comm unit. "Give me details. Over."
"Six Actual, they're in some kind of uniform I don't recognize. They're armed with projectile weapons. I have good cover. Will take them under fire. This is, uh. Dean, out. Sir."
Dean did not wait for the Brigadier's reply. "Run for the house, Hway, run as fast as you've ever run in your life!"
Dean crawled to the edge of the trees, where he could get a clear view of the approaching column from cover. He angled his body behind a massive trunk, took aim at the man leading the column, and fired. The bolt slammed into the man's chest and left a gaping hole all the way through. The remaining men instantly returned a surprisingly heavy volume of very accurate fire at him. Dean had to drop behind cover so fast he barely noticed the smoke that began to rise from a tree as the plasma bolt that cut through the man he'd killed smoldered in its drought-dried side. Bits and pieces of tree trunks showered down upon him as bullets exploded close above where he lay.
Dean scuttled backward, turned, and low-crawled to the trail he and Hway had walked up. The trees between him and the approaching men were absorbing most of the bullets. Then the nearly missed memory of the tree that began to burn from his first shot clicked on him—Hway had told him the forest was dry and could burn easily. He fired a rapid series of bolts at a tree with upturned, spiky leaves. The tree began to smolder and broke into flame. He then shot more bolts into clumps of undergrowth and set them afire. He smiled. That'll keep the bastards awhile! he thought. Doubled over to present as small a target as possible, he ran back toward the house.
Brigadier Sturgeon leaped to his feet. "Dean! Dean!" he said into his comm unit. "Get out of there! Do you hear me? Come back here! Dean?" The brigadier cursed and switched his comm unit to the frequency he was assigned to communicate with the Denver. "Bridge! This is FIST Six Actual. What do you see?"
"Bridge," a laconic voice answered from the orbiting Denver. "FIST Six Actual, we see several dozen men one point five kilometers to your northeast. Appear to be a work party but have dispatched a drone to confirm. Wait... Seems you have the beginnings of a forest fire between your position and theirs. Do you need assistance, FIST Six Actual?"
Lori was on her feet now too. Her face had gone white at the sound of the shooting, but she could also see flames and smoke from the burning forest. "They've set my forest on fire!" she screamed. "God's goddamned balls, those trees are hundreds of years old! Brigadier—"
"Lori," he said quietly, "that fire's going to save our lives." He changed the channel on his comm unit. "Claypoole!" he shouted into it.
"This is Claypoole, sir!"
"Where the hell are you?"
"Downstairs with the kids..." Claypoole had been watching an ancient flatvid starring John Wayne, The Horse Soldiers.
"Get out here. Now. How many kids with you?"
"Three, sir. Dean and Hway are outside somewhere."
"Out here. Now, Marine! Bridge!" he snapped. He switched back to the command circuit, "Do you see any other activity?" he asked the Denver. "How about along the road to Schmahldorf?"
"Negative, FIST Six Actual. Drone confirms forty-three men armed with projectile weapons. Shall we take them out for you?"
"Negative, negative, negative!" the brigadier shouted into his communicator. He made a mental note to ask the Denver's captain why the watch had not acted sooner to confirm the nature of the approaching "work" party. "I have people out there. Stand by." He turned to Lori. "Do you have guns here, and do you have any servants who know how to use them?"
"No, Ted, I don't."
"Where's the nearest Stadtpolizei station?"
"Schmahldorf," she answered. "But the Stadtpolizei in my jurisdiction have only side arms."
"Great. Well, we'll change that as soon as I get us out of this mess. Bridge, can you contact the Stadtpolizei in Schmahldorf and alert them to our situation here?"
"Negative, FIST Six Actual. We have no channel to them. We can ask Chief Long to relay a message through Stadtpolizei channels. Over." Brigadier Sturgeon bit his tongue. Somebody should have anticipated this problem.
"I can call them from here," Lori offered.
"No. They'd be cut to pieces. Bridge, alert them but have Chief Long emphasize, I say again, emphasize they are not to come down the road to Keutgens's estate. Is that clear?"
"Roger, FIST Six Actual. They are not to proceed down the road to Keutgens's estate. Further orders?"
"Yes. I want a landing party to block the road fifteen kilometers outside Schmahldorf and to wait there for further orders." If he did have to call in a laser strike on the area, the extra five kilometers would give the landing party a good margin of safety.
"Roger, FIST Six Actual. Landing party on the way to block your road fifteen kilometers outside the capital."
"What's your plan, sir?" Commander Peters asked.
"I don't have one. Commander. We'll plan as we go. But it'll be nice to have that landing party nearby." They would be down in under a half hour.
Claypoole came running up, followed by Gudia and the boys. Faces white and eyes staring, the children ran to their grandmother and looked up anxiously at the three Marines. A group of about a dozen servants and workers had gathered nervously in one corner of the patio, and now an elderly, dignified man approached the trio.
"Mistress," he addressed Lori. "What is happening? How may we help?"
Lori looked to Sturgeon. "This is Hector, my major-domo," she said.
"Hector, can you find transportation for all these people?" Sturgeon asked.
"Yes, sir. We have a lorry that we often use to transport—"
"Get them in it and drive to the city. We'll meet you there. Go. Now." Hector hesitated, looking to Lorelei Keutgens.
Lori nodded. "Go, Hector, now. Don't take anything with you. Just get out of here."
"Claypoole, take Mrs. Keutgens and her grandchildren, load them into our landcar, and drive like hell until you get to Schmahldorf. Here, I'll trade you my side arm for your blaster."
"Sir! Dean's out there somewhere." Claypoole gestured toward the rising glow to the northeast, more prominent now that the sun was almost completely down. "Can't I go after him?"
"No. Our responsibility now is to these civilians." The brigadier paused as he began to unstrap his equipment belt. The frustration in Claypoole's eyes was evident. "Marine, your friend has bought us time, we won't waste his sacrifice by wasting that time. You take the civilians back to Sc
hmahldorf. Commander Peters and I will find Dean."
It had been a long time since the brigadier had used a shoulder weapon in combat, but already he was thinking like a squad leader: he was interested neither in who the men were nor their objective, only in stopping them. His instincts told him they were after Lori and her family, and it was only bad luck—for the attackers—that he and his three Marines just happened to be there. The fact that he was the FIST commander and should protect himself from harm never occurred to him. His executive officer could take over the mission if he was killed. His only thought now was to join up with Dean and conduct a fighting withdrawal until reinforced by the landing party.
"Ted," Lori said in a very small voice, "is my granddaughter with your young Dean?"
"Yes, Lori, I'm afraid—"
"Grandmother!" Hway shouted as she jumped the hedges bordering the patio and stumbled up to the adults. "Joe is back there. Forty men with guns. He's fighting with them now! You have to help!" Her words came in great sobs as she tried to catch her breath.
Joe? Claypoole silently mouthed Dean's first name. That sly bastard, he thought, and smiled despite himself. "Sir? Let me go after Dean. Please?"
"Ted, I'm not leaving this place until you get that boy out of there," Lori said, her tone of voice clearly implying she meant it. "Besides, you can't go running around out there like a private! Hway can lead Clayton back to where Dean is."
"Claypoole, ma'am," Claypoole interjected respectfully.
Brigadier Sturgeon hesitated. Plan as you go? "Hway, can you—would you be willing—to take Claypoole back to Dean?" Hway was insulted that Brigadier Sturgeon would even doubt her willingness to go, but then, he didn't know her. She nodded yes. The brigadier turned to Claypoole and exchanged weapons with him again. "Go." He nodded toward the fire. Claypoole and Hway ran off the patio into the garden.
Sturgeon turned to Commander Peters. "Ralph, take Mrs. Keutgens and the children, get in that landcar, and take them to safety."
School of Fire Page 14