"Casualties? Before it starts?" Amanda held him with her eyes. "What do you think Berthe Haugsrud and Bhak and the others have been, down in town?"
He did not answer.
"They're our casualties," she said, "already counted. The war you want to stop before it starts has been going for two days. Did you think it would all take place with no cost at all?"
"No, I…" He swayed a little on his skimmer; and the momentary gust of anger he had sparked off in her went away, suddenly.
"I know," she said. "There's things that aren't easy for you to think about. They aren't easy for Ekram. Nor for me, nor any of us. Nor was it easy for those people like Berthe, down in town, who stayed there knowing what was going to happen to them. But do you have any more of it to face or live with than they did, or the boys and girls on the teams will?"
"No," he said. "But I can't help how I feel."
"No," she said. "No, of course you can't. Well, do the best you can, anyway."
He nodded numbly and reached for the power bar of his skimmer. Amanda watched him lift and slide away, gazing for a long moment after his powerful shoulders, now slumped and weary. Then she mounted her awn skimmer and took off at right angles to his route.
She reproached herself as she went for her outburst at him. He was still young and had not seen what people could do to people. He had no basis of experience from which to imagine what would happen to the dispossessed Dorsai, once they were scattered thinly among the populations of other worlds who had been educated to hold them in detestation and contempt. He could still cling to a hope that somehow an enemy could be defeated with such cleverness that neither friend nor foe need suffer.
She headed toward the Aras homestead to pick up Mene as the first of her adult recruits for the assault on Foralie.
Travelling there, even now, she found the mountains calming her spirit. The rain had stopped, according to the weather predictions Ramon had given her, and a swift wind was tearing the cloud cover to tatters. The sky revealed was a high, hard blue; and the air, on the wings of a stiff breeze, piping with an invigorating cold. She felt stilled, concentrated and clear of mind.
For better or for worse, they must now move into literal combat. There was no more time to worry whether individuals would measure up. There was no time for her cataloguing of the sort of lacks she had noted in Betta, in Melissa, in Lexy and just now in Ramon. Time had run out on her decision of the name for Betta's child. She must leave word with others before the actual assault on Foralie about what she had decided, one way or another, so that it could be passed on to Betta if necessary. She would do just that. At the last minute she would make up her mind one way or another and have done with it.
Forty-five minutes later, she swung her skimmer up to a fold in the hills, carrying Mene Aras with her. As she topped the rise and dipped down into the hidden hollow beyond, she saw the Ancients of five teams; together with a dozen or so of the team-leaders and runners from them, plus Jer Walker leaning on both his walking canes and a half-rifle slung from the shoulders of his frail, ninety-year old body. Nine of the other women, most of them young, and also armed, were already there. But most welcome of all was the sight of the unusual pair that were Arvid Johnson and Bill Athyer, together with six of the Dorsai they had been able to keep as staff
Amanda slid her skimmer to a stop, stepped off and walked up to Arvid and Bill.
"I was deliberately not counting on you," she said, "but I thought you might be here in time."
"You'll need us," Arvid said. "I take it you knew Swahili is now the officer in charge of Cow's escort? He came up here with replacement troops this morn-ing."
"Swahili?" Amanda frowned, for the name had a familiar ring but eluded identification.
"He's a major with these Coalition troops. But he was one of Eachan Khan's officers," Bill said. "A Dorsai, once—but probably you've never seen him. He didn't like any place where there wasn't any fighting going on. He joined Eachan some years ago, out on one of the off-world contracts and I think he was only here in this district briefly, once or twice. The only things that usually brought him to the Dorsai were short visits to that new training center Cletus set up on the other side of the world."
"The point is, though, he literally is a Dorsai—or was. One of the best we ever had, in fact," said Arvid. "If anyone's going to catch us moving in before we want them to know we're there, it'll be him."
There was a strange, almost sad note in Arvid's voice.
"Yes, he's that good. Some of us-" Bill glanced for a second at his tall companion, "thought he was the best we had… in some ways. At any rate, that's why Arvid and I'll be going in first, to secure the house."
"You're taking charge, then?" said Amanda.
"We hadn't planned on it," said Arvid, swiftly. "It's your district, of course—"
"Don't talk nonsense," said Amanda. "We'll do anything that works. Did you really think I'd be prickly about my authority?"
"No," said Arvid. "Not really. But I do think you should stay in overall command. These local people know you, not me. Just give us four minutes head start, then move in. We'll take the house. That'll leave you the compound area that was set up for the escort troops, beside the house. How do you plan to handle that?"
"The only way we can," said Amanda. "I'll go in first, with the other adults behind me—openly, like neighbors coming to visit—and I'll try to disarm the sentry. Then we'll take the compound—we adults-building by building. Meanwhile, the teams will lie out around with their weapons and try to see that, whatever happens, none of the soldiers break out of the compound area after we've gone in."
Arvid nodded.
"All right," he said. "Our word is that all the men in the convoy bringing Cletus in are pretty well sick and useless. I suppose you also have the information that most of the well troops that came up originally with Dow were traded back to town for the personnel of the patrol that came up with Swahili—a patrol of sick that were sent up this morning? That should make things easier for you."
Amanda scowled.
"I heard that from Ramon—one of my team Ancients," she said. "I don't believe it. Why trade good fighting men for bad around someone as important as Dow?"
"It checks out, all the same," said Arvid. "We hear Dow was called by their military physician late last night. He was the one who ordered the change."
"You monitored that call?"
"No. Just got a report on it, passed out through Foralie town."
Amanda shook her head stubbornly.
"One further piece of evidence," said Arvid. "On the basis of the report, I had a couple of my staff check the patrol that went out and the patrol that came back It was a completely different set effaces that returned."
Amanda sighed.
"All right. If that's right…" she swung away from him. "Take off any time you're ready."
"We're ready now," said Arvid. "Four minutes."
"Good luck," she said, and went over to her own group, the assorted gang of women, Jer, the five Ancients and the young team-members, carrying their cone and energy rifles in the crook of their arms, muzzle down, like hunting weapons.
"All right," she said to them all. "You know what you're supposed to do and you heard me talking just now with Arvid and Bill…"
She hesitated, finding herself strangely, uncharacteristically, at a loss for words. There was something that needed to be said; something that she had been working toward for a very long time, that she needed to tell them before they went where they were going. But whatever it was, it would not define itself for her. A skimmer topped the ridge opposite the one that overlooked Foralie and came sliding down to them under full power, carrying Reiko Kiempü, armed. Amanda saw the tall young woman's eyes slip past her for a second to Arvid. Then Reiko had reached the rest of them and jumped off her skimmer.
"I got word over the phone just before I left home," she said to Amanda. "Betta's in labor—the real thing, this time."
"Thanks,"
said Amanda, hardly knowing she spoke.
Suddenly, as if a switch had been pulled, the words she had been looking for were ready to her tongue. With this news everything abruptly fell into order—her silent lifelong love for Jimmy and for Fal Morgan, the years of struggling to survive back when the outlaw mercenaries had prowled the new Dorsai settlements, the sending out of the men in each generation to be killed, to earn the necessary credits that alone would let them all continue to survive—just as they were, and wished to be.
As they were.
Those were the magic words. They had a right to be as they were; and it was a right Worth all it cost. This harsh world had been one that no one else had wanted. But they had taken it, she and others like her. They had built it with their own hands and blood. It was theirs. You love, she thought suddenly, what you give to—and in proportion as you give.
That was all she had wanted to say. But now, looking around her at the adolescent faces of the young team members, at the other adult women, at old Jer Walker, she realized there had never been any need to tell the rest of them that. From the youngest to the oldest, they already knew it. It was in their bones and blood, as it was in hers. Perhaps not all of them had yet put it into words in their minds, as she had just done in hers—but they knew.
She looked at them. Mixed in among their living figures she thought she saw the presence of ghosts—of Berthe Haugsrud, of Bhaktabahadur Rais, of Jimmy himself and all those from other households who had died for the Dorsai, both here and on other worlds. Like the mountains, these stood up all around them, patiently waiting.
It came to her then like a revelation that none of it mattered—their individual weaknesses, the things that they seemed to lack that she herself either had innately, or time had taught her. She had been guilty of Amandamorphism—thinking only someone exactly like herself could earn even passing marks to qualify for the role she had played here so long. But that idea was nonsense. The fact that no two people were exactly alike had nothing to do with the fact that two people could be equally useful.
There came a time when anyone had to face the leaving of ultimate decisions to others, and to time itself A time when faith proved to either have been placed, or misplaced, but when it was too late to do anything more about it. It was not up to her to leave Betta a last decision about the use of the Amanda as a name for Betta's child. Betta herself was the one to decide that, as Amanda had made necessary decisions in her own time, and all generations to come would have to make their own decisions in their time.
"What are you smiling at, Amanda?" said Reiko, looming beside and over her.
"Nothing," said Amanda. "Nothing at all."
She turned to the rest of them.
"I'll go in first," she said, "as soon as Arvid and Bill with their team have had their four minute lead. The rest of you, follow me, coming two to a skimmer, from different directions. We'll use Betta as an excuse for gathering at Foralie, as long as that's conveniently turned up. Actually, the excuse won't matter…"
She looked around at their faces.
"Myself, first. Then Mene and Reiko. The rest team up as you wish. Team members, stay close and fire as needed; but don't move in to the compound unless or until you're called in by one of us who've gone ahead. That includes Ancients. Ancients, stay with your teams. In case everything falls apart here, it'll be up to each of you to pull your team off, get it back into the mountains, and keep it alive. Everybody understand?"
They nodded or murmured their understanding.
"All right—" She was interrupted by a flicker of red, a cloth being waved briefly from just behind the crest of the ridge overlooking Foralie. "All right. Convoy in sight. It'll take it another five minutes or so to reach the house. Everybody up behind the ridge, ready to go."
Lying with the others, just behind the crest of the ridge, she looked through a screen of grass at the convoy. Even to her eye, its vehicle column seemed to move somewhat sluggishly. Evidently that part of Arvid's information—about the convoy troops all being sick—was correct. She crossed her fingers mentally upon the hope that the rest of what he had told her was also reliable—but with misgivings. Counting the team members, the Dorsai would outnumber the troops of the convoy and those already at Foralie nearly five to one—but children against experienced soldiers made that figure one of mockery. Experienced soldiers against civilians was bad enough.
The convoy was almost to the house. She pushed herself backwards and got to her feet below the crest of the ridge. Looking over, she saw the last of the Dorsai soldiers belonging to Bill and Arvid already disappearing—they would be crawling forward through the tall grass now, to get as close as they could come to the house before making their move. She checked her watch, counting off" the minutes. When four were gone, she waved to the other civilians, mounted her skimmer and took it up over the ridge, directly down upon the single sentry standing in front of the compound of bubble plastic structures at the far end of the house. The convoy had pulled out of sight into the compound just moments before she reached him; and his head was still turned, looking after it. She had set the skimmer down before he belatedly turned to the sound of her power unit. His cone rifle swung up hastily, to cover her.
"Stay right there—" he was beginning, when she interrupted him.
"Oh, stop that nonsense! My great-granddaughter's having a baby. Where is she?"
"Where? She… oh, the house, of course, ma'm."
"All right, you go tell her I'll be right there. I've got to speak to whoever's in charge of that convoy—"
"I can't leave my post. I'm sorry, but—"
"What do you mean, you can't leave your post? Don't you recognize me? I'm the mayor of Foralie Town. You must have been shown an image of me as part of your briefing. Now, you get in there—"
"I'm sorry. I really can't—"
"Don't tell me can't-"
They argued, the sentry forgetting his weapon to the point where its barrel sagged off to one side. A new humming announced another skimmer that slid down upon them with Reiko and Mene Tosca aboard.
"Halt—" said the soldier, swinging his rifle to command these new arrivals.
"Now what're you doing?" said Amanda, exasperatedly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cletus being escorted into the house. The majority of the soldiers of the convoy should now be out of their vehicles and moving inside one or another of the cantonment buildings. There was still no sign of Arvid, Bill and their team.
"Don't you understand that neighbors come calling when there's a birth?" she said sharply, interrupting another argument that was developing between the sentry and Reiko. "I know these neighbors well. I'll vouch for them…"
"In a second, ma'am…" the sentry threw over his shoulder at her and turned back to Reiko.
"No second," said Amanda.
The difference in the tone of her voice brought him around. He froze at the sight of Amanda's heavy handgun pointed at his middle. Ineffective as they were at ordinary rifle distance, the energy handguns were devastating at point-blank range like this. Even if Amanda's aim should be bad—and she held the gun too steadily to suggest bad aim—any pressure on its trigger would mean his being cut almost in two.
"Just keep talking," said Amanda softly. She held the gun low, so that the sentry's own body shielded any view of it from the compound or the house. "You and I are just going on with our conversation. Wave these two to the compound as if you were referring them to someone there. There'll be other skimmers coming—"
"Yes… two more. On the way now," Mene's voice almost hissed, close by her ear.
"—and after each one stops here for a moment, you'll wave them to the compound, too. Do you understand?" Amanda said.
"Yes…" His eyes were on the steady muzzle of her handgun.
"Good. Mene, Reiko, go ahead. Wait until enough others catch up with you before you make a move, though."
"Leave it to us," said Reiko. Their skimmer lifted and hummed toward the compound.
> "Just stand relaxed," Amanda told the sentry. "Don't move your rifle."
She sat. The sentry's face showed the pallor of what was perhaps illness, now overlaid with a mute desperation. He did not move. He was not as youthful as some of the other soldiers, but from the relative standpoint of Amanda's years they were all young. Other skimmers came and moved on to the compound, until all the adults had gone by her.
"Stand still," Amanda said to the sentry.
Off to one side, a movement caught her eye. It was a figure slipping around the corner of the house and entering the door. Then another. Arvid and Bill with their men—at last.
She turned her head slightly to look. Five… six figures flickered around the corner of the house and in through the door. Out of the other corner of her eyes she caught movement close to her. Looking back, she saw the sentry bringing up the barrel of his rifle to knock the energy weapon out of her hand. Twenty, even ten years before, she would have been able to move the handgun out of the way in time, but age had slowed her too much.
She felt the shock against her wrist as metal met metal and the energy gun was sent flying. But she was already stooping to the scabbard with the pellet shotgun as the sentry's cone rifle swung back to point at her. The stream of cones whistled over her bent head, then lowered. She felt a single heavy shock in the area of her left shoulder, but then the shotgun had, in its turn, batted the light frame of the cone rifle aside and the sentry was looking into the wide muzzle of the heavier gun.
"Drop it," said Amanda.
Her own words sounded distant in her own ears. There was a strange feeling all through her. The impact had been high enough so that possibly the single cone that struck her had not made a fatal wound; but shock was swift with missiles from that weapon.
The cone rifle dropped to the ground.
"Now lie down, face down…" said Amanda. She was still hearing her voice as if from a long distance away, and the world about her had an unreal quality to it. "No, out of arm's reach of the rifle…"
The Spirit of Dorsai Page 9