by David Weber
"Where do you want us, Ma'am?" Sergeant Wells panted as she and her squad slithered to a halt beside Honor. The sergeant carried a powerful hand lamp against the gathering darkness, and her people carried hand tractors and pressers and shovels. Honor ran her eyes over them once, then nodded for them to follow her.
"Over this way," she said, leading the way back towards Nimitz.
"We're a long way beyond the search line, Ma'am," Wells pointed out diffidently, and Honor nodded.
"I know. Call it a hunch."
"A hunch, Ma'am?"
"That's right, but it's not really mine. It's—"
She stopped dead, so abruptly Wells almost ran into her, but neither of them really thought about that. They were staring down into the hole burrowed into the churned white surface, to where a small, dark-skinned hand, torn and bloodied, thrust out of a wall of snow and a cream-and-gray treecat cradled it against his chest while his eyes blazed like green fire in the glow of the sergeant's lamp.
Ranjit Hibson's eyelids fluttered open.
For a long moment he simply lay there, drowsy and content and warm. For some reason it seemed wrong for him to feel that way, but he couldn't quite remem—
"Susan!"
His eyes flew wide, and he jerked up in the bed. Susan! Where was—?!
"It's all right, Ranjit," a familiar voice said, and his head snapped around as someone touched his shoulder. "I'm fine," the voice told him, and he gasped in terrible relief as his sister sat down on the edge of his bed and smiled at him. It was her old, indomitable smile—almost . . . with just a shadow of remembered darkness behind it—and he reached out to touch her bruised face with gentle, wondering fingers.
"Sooze," he half-whispered, and her green eyes gleamed with suspicious wetness as she caught his hand and held it to her cheek. Her own hands were heavily bandaged, and his mouth tightened as he saw how carefully she touched him. But she saw his borning frown and shook her head quickly.
"It's not that bad," she reassured him. "I skinned them and cut them some and broke one finger, but the quick heal's already working on them. They'll be all better a long time before your legs will. And speaking of legs—" a spark of true anger glittered in her eyes "—why didn't you tell me you were bleeding like that!"
"I didn't know for sure that I was," he replied, still drinking in her face and the fact that she was alive. "Besides, there wasn't anything you could've done except what you did do—go for help—so why should I have worried you with it? You had enough on your mind, Sooze."
"Yeah," she said after a moment, and lowered her eyes to his hand. "Yeah, I guess I did, at that."
"Indeed she did," another voice said, and Ranjit's head snapped around toward the hospital room's door. Kalindi and Liesell Hibson stood there, each with an arm around the other, and Kalindi's smile seemed to waver just a bit as he tried to keep his voice steady. "You both did. And we're proud of you both. Very proud."
"Mom—Dad—" Ranjit stared at his parents and, to his horror, heard his own hoarseness and felt the hot burn of tears. He was too old to bawl like a baby, he told himself, and it didn't do any good at all as he felt his face crumple. Horrible embarrassment engulfed him, but there was nothing he could do about it . . . and a moment later, it didn't matter, for his mother was there, with her arms around him, hugging him close while he sobbed into her shoulder. Her hands stroked his back, and he heard her murmuring the words of comfort he was much too old to need . . . and needed anyway. He raised his head, staring at her through his tears, and his father reached across her shoulder to ruffle his hair as he had when Ranjit was only a boy.
"I-I'm sorry," he got our finally. "I promised . . . promised I'd take care of Sooze, and instead—"
"Forgive me for intruding," another voice said dryly from the open door, "but I tend to doubt they expected your promise to be binding on a mountain, Ranjit."
He blinked on his tears, and Csilla Berczi smiled at him. The teacher's expression commiserated with his wounded adolescent pride, yet it also congratulated him for having the good sense to ignore it.
"May I come in?" she asked.
"It's Ranjit's room," Liesell said with a small smile, and looked at her son.
"Of course you can!" he said quickly, and Berczi chuckled and stepped into the room. She seemed unsteady on her feet, but she only grimaced at Ranjit's quick look of concern.
"Don't worry about it," she told them. "The wiring and a couple of servos in my replacement took a hit during the excitement, but it's nothing they can't adjust back on Unicorn Eleven. At the moment, though, I've brought another visitor along with me."
She grinned at her students' expressions, but she also lowered herself into a bedside chair and waved a hand at the door as yet another head poked around the frame and peeked into the room.
"Come on in, Andrea," Berczi invited, and laughed as Ranjit suddenly sat up straighter in bed. The girl in the doorway was taller than he'd somehow expected, with a lovely oval face and dark blue eyes. She moved a bit stiffly, as if she had her own share of bruises, but the smile she gave him and Susan was blinding, and Liesell and Kalindi looked at one another with wry, resigned expressions.
"Hi," she said just a bit shyly. "I, uh, told Ms. Berczi I wanted to meet you two—actually meet you, that is. Because I wouldn't be here without you, and I know it."
"Without Sooze, you mean," Ranjit corrected, feeling his face blaze scarlet as he made himself meet her gaze.
"Maybe, but I'd never've had the nerve to climb out into that stinking snow without you, Ranjit," Susan said stoutly.
"Yeah, but—" Ranjit began, only to be cut off by their teacher.
"There's plenty of credit to go around, people," she told them both. "I'm proud of you both—very proud—and so are your parents."
"Indeed we are," Kalindi agreed firmly. "We would appreciate it if both of you could see your way to giving us a little less cause for such, um, traumatic pride for the next little bit—like, oh, the next fifty or sixty years, you understand. But we've heard how you handled yourselves." He smiled, but his eyes and voice were serious. "A parent is always proud when his or her child rises to meet a challenge, but your mother and I are most pleased with you both, and the courage and resourcefulness you showed bring much honor upon you."
"And don't you forget it, either," Berczi said as Ranjit and Susan flushed with mingled pride, pleasure, and embarrassment under their father's praise. "You not only got yourselves out, but you got Andrea here and four other people from the other side of the lift car, as well. And finding your car indicated that we'd been much too conservative in our estimates of where we should have been looking in the first place, so we widened the search. Which is how we found two more cars the same night."
"I'm glad you did," Ranjit said slowly, but his eyes had darkened as he did the mental math. "But Sooze and Andrea and I make three, and you said there were only four more?" He stared at the teacher, begging her to tell him he'd misunderstood her, but she only shook her head with gentle compassion. "Only seven" he whispered.
"Only seven," she confirmed quietly, and Ranjit felt his mother's grip tighten comfortingly about him once more. "You kids were lucky—gutsy and smart as hell, too, but lucky clear through," the teacher went on. "The newsies are calling this the worst avalanche in the Star Kingdom's history, at least in terms of loss of life. So far—" She paused and drew a deep breath, then continued. "So far, we've confirmed three hundred and sixty dead, and the toll's still going up. Odds are that it'll at least double before it's all over."
"And us? The other kids?" Ranjit asked tautly.
"All in one piece, more or less," Berczi said with unfeigned gratitude. "You and Susan were the only ones we had headed for the beginners' slopes. Donny Tergesen got banged up pretty bad—he'll be in the body and fender shop longer than you will, Ranjit—but we didn't have anyone else actually out on the slopes yet, and none of the other lifts got hit anywhere near as hard as yours did."
"That's fo
r sure," Andrea put in, and smiled crookedly as Ranjit looked her way. "My mother and sister were waiting for the lift to the advanced slopes, and they hardly even got shaken up over there," the blonde told him. "We were the ones who got walloped."
"Yes, you were," Berczi agreed. "But the three of you came through it intact, and that's the important thing for you to remember—all of you. I'm sure you'll have your share of nightmares over it. That's normal, and there's nothing anyone can do to prevent it. But don't let yourselves feel guilty somehow because you made it and other people didn't. You didn't kill anyone, and nothing that happened to anyone else was your fault. You got home the hard way, but you got there, and along the way, you managed to save some lives that would have been lost without you. That's what it's important to remember."
She looked deep into three young sets of eyes in turn, holding each of them until their owners nodded solemnly.
"Good." She leaned back in her chair and nodded at the older Hibsons. "Your parents and I have already discussed the need to schedule a few sessions with a counselor for all of you, but if you want someone else to talk to about it, come to me. And that includes you, Andrea, assuming I'm anywhere in com reach."
"I will, Ma'am," the blonde began, "and—"
"Excuse me. Is this a private party, or are drop-ins welcome?" a crisp soprano voice inquired.
Ranjit turned his head as the speaker stood in the open doorway. She was tall for a woman, with broad shoulders and short-cropped brown hair, and she wore the space-black and gold of the Royal Manticoran Navy with the cuff stripes of a lieutenant commander. All of that registered, but only at the corners of his mind, for she also had something else that reached out and seized his attention. It couldn't be what it looked like! He'd wanted to see one of them for as long as he could remember, dreamed of being adopted by one, but he'd never really expected ever to meet one of them, and especially not off Sphinx!
The fluffy-coated, six-limbed creature on the officer's shoulder turned its head to meet his own goggle-eyed stare. There was a moment of silence, and then the treecat bleeked and twitched its whiskers at him, obviously delighted by his stunned reaction to its presence.
"Commander Harrington!" Berczi said, and Ranjit's parents stiffened, as if they recognized the name. His mother released him to stand up as the teacher started to push herself awkwardly to her feet, but the woman in the doorway waved her back into her chair.
"Stay where you are, Major. I just dropped by for a word with Susan. And—" she glanced speculatively at Kalindi and Liesell "—her parents?"
"Yes. Yes, we are," Liesell said, and stepped forward to take the newcomer's hand in both of hers. "Thank you, Commander. Thank you. We can never repay you for what you've done."
"There's no need to repay me for anything, Ms. Hibson," the tall woman said gently. "It was Nimitz here who found Susan, you know, not me. If you want to thank anyone, thank him—and the people who actually dug Ranjit and Andrea out, of course. But to be perfectly honest, Susan would have done the job without me or Nimitz. She was less than five meters down when he sensed her, and there was no way five measly meters of snow were going to stop your daughter, Ma'am."
Susan blushed a bright, blazing scarlet—a hue so hot she could have used it to melt her way to rescue if it had been available at the time, Ranjit thought—and Liesell reached out and wrapped her arm tightly around her daughter's shoulders.
"I believe you're correct, Commander," she said with a wry smile. "Her father and I have noticed before that she can be just a bit on the stubborn side."
"So I've heard," Commander Harrington agreed. "Which brings me to the rather delicate matter of what I wanted to speak to her about."
"With me, Ma'am?" Susan said, and her tone was almost as big a surprise for Ranjit as the treecat's appearance. He'd become accustomed to the way his sister always spoke of the Navy—as the "chauffeurs" and "deck jockeys" whose sole job was to move important people like Marines around—but there was no sign of that now. She had addressed the tall officer in tones of profound respect, and as he heard it, Ranjit sensed that there was a great deal about their rescue that he hadn't been told yet.
"Yes." The tall woman looked consideringly down at Susan, and the 'cat on her shoulder joined her, cocking his head to peer thoughtfully at Ranjit's sister. "I thought you'd like to know what I just heard over at the CP," the woman said. "If your parents don't mind, of course."
"Mind what, Commander?" Kalindi asked.
"Well, I'm afraid it has to do with that stubbornness your wife just mentioned, Sir," Harrington said. "You see, the newsies are swarming all over the resort looking for human interest stories, and I'm afraid your daughter here is rapidly turning into the central heroine of the entire disaster. The quickie interview they did with her last night has gone out on live feeds and in all the 'faxes, and we've already heard back from Manticore about her."
"From Manticore?" Susan repeated. "About me?"
"Yes. You know, you really impressed everyone with the rescue teams. We all feel you showed a lot of nerve and determination, and you did a good job of helping us backtrack your tunnel to find Ranjit and Andrea, too."
She paused, and Ranjit watched bemusedly as Susan blushed yet again. The woman with the 'cat smiled ever so slightly, almond eyes gleaming as she enjoyed Susan's atypical tongue-tied silence. She let it stretch out for several seconds, then cleared her throat.
"It just happens," she went on, "that Major Stimson and Major Berczi are old friends, and the Major explained your, um, military ambitions to us. I believe you also said a little something about them to the newsies, didn't you?"
Susan darted an agonized look at her parents, then nodded, and Harrington shrugged. "Well, Major Stimson had already mentioned them to me, and I mentioned them to Captain Tammerlane—he's the skipper of my ship—and he passed them on up the chain in turn, and then the interview imagery hit the capital news net, and, well—"
She shrugged, grinning, and Susan turned her eyes to her brother in agonized embarrassment. She stared at him pleadingly, and he shook himself.
"And what–Ma'am?" he asked finally.
"Well, I understand that somehow your sister's plans got bucked all the way up the chain to the Commandant of the Corps," Commander Harrington told him.
"All the way—?" Ranjit's jaw dropped, and twisted back around to stare at his Susan.
"Yes, indeed. And according to the traffic over at the CP, General Ambristen was rather taken with her exploits himself. Sufficiently so, in fact, that on the recommendation of Major Berczi, Major Stimson, and myself, the Corps has already reserved a slot for her at OCS, assuming—" Harrington darted a moderately severe glance at Susan "—that she gets her grades up, of course."
"Really?" The word burst out of Susan like an explosion, and Harrington nodded with a chuckle.
"Really," she assured the girl. "But it really is contingent on your passing the academic requirements, too. May I assume that you'll be doing a little something about those grades Major Berczi mentioned to me?"
"Yes, Ma'am! I mean– Yes, of course I will!"
"Good. In that case, maybe you and I will serve together sometime."
"I'd . . . I'd like that, Ma'am," Susan said, suddenly almost painfully shy. "I'd like that a lot."
"Stranger things have happened," Harrington observed. Then she nodded to Andrea and Ranjit, shook hands once more with both of Susan's parents, sketched an abbreviated salute to Berczi, and disappeared.
Ranjit stared after her for a long, endless moment, then looked at his parents, but they weren't looking at him. They were looking at each other, with expressions that mingled resignation, pride, bittersweet laughter, and the admission that their long effort to divert Susan from the Marines had just turned into an abject failure. It was going to take them a while to deal with that and once more begin paying any attention to the rest of the world, and Susan was in even worse shape. She was simply standing there, staring off into space, and her entire f
ace was one huge, beatific smile. There wasn't so much as a hint of intelligence in her bemused eyes, and Ranjit shuddered. She was going to be extremely difficult to live with for the next few weeks, or months—or years, he thought wryly—once she resumed interactive contact with the world about her. But that wasn't going to happen for a while, so he turned to Csilla Berczi.
"Who was that?" he demanded.
"She's the one who dug the lot of you out of the avalanche," the teacher replied. "Well, she and a squad of Marines under her command. Her treecat found Susan."
"Yeah, it was great!" Andrea chipped in. "Commander Harrington says he must've sensed her emotions or something and led them straight to her. They were wonderful about getting all the rest of us out, too. But I can hardly believe she went to the trouble of telling her captain Susan wanted to be a Marine and then actually came clear over to the hospital just to tell her!"
"Believe it, young lady," Berczi told her. "There are never enough good officers to go around. Commander Harrington knows that—which shouldn't be too surprising, since she's one of the good ones herself!—and she recognized the same things in our Susan that I've been looking at for the last couple of years. Although," she added judiciously, glancing sidelong at the younger girl's gloriously bemused expression, "we could all be excused for not seeing them just at the moment, I suppose."
"Well I'm happy for her," Andrea said firmly. "Aren't you?"
"Of course I am," Berczi agreed, "and—"
She stopped speaking as Ranjit's deep, heartfelt groan suddenly interrupted her. He, too, had been staring at his sister, but now his eyes were fixed on his parents, and Berczi cocked an eyebrow at him.
"What?" she asked. "Are your legs bothering you all of a sudden, Ranjit?"
"No, no," he shook his head, but his expression was that of someone in intense pain, and she looked a question at him. "It wasn't that," he assured her. "It wasn't that at all."