"But why should a human be able to figure it out? Our perceptions are so limited! We can only see the smallest fraction of what exists. We miss the rest entirely. Our comprehension is so limited. We only see what is directly before us and even of that we only see the surface. Like the tip of the iceberg, we see only what is directly visible to our limited perceptions, the majority under water and completely invisible to us. Our existence is so short, that if we do begin to grasp that there is more, we are gone before we even begin to comprehend. Our lifespans are but blinks on the Cosmic scale. How do you gauge our puny significance on the scale of a cyclic Universe? Or beyond?" Lan sighed. He had always felt that there was much more, but human perception was simply incapable of perceiving. Capable of grasping that our awareness was but a dim light in the vast darkness and no more. Forever doomed to ignorance.
"I didn't know my man was a philosopher." Becla said, moving up to stand close enough to place her hands on his shoulders. "My big bad tough philosopher man."
"Hardly." Lan said.
"If this mission goes forward," Becla said suddenly, as if needing to get it out of her system before she changed her mind, "you should leave me behind. Go without me. You know I'll only be a hindrance. I'll jeopardize your chance for success."
"No." Lan said. "You go. That's final." Humans might have been limited on a Cosmic scale, but Becla was about as competent as any human Lan had ever met. Becla's full abilities had never been put to the test, but Lan knew that when the cards were on the table she would rise to the occasion.
And of course there was the fact that if he left her behind they would have her on the first ship heading back towards one of the Fronts. Lan would return from Bali, if he returned, to find nothing of her but a notice of her MIA or KIA. No. Her best chance of survival was to remain with Lan. This was one mission and then freedom if they succeeded, but to go back to the Front meant ten years and a very insignificant chance of survival. So very few survived their ten year hitch in the Space Corps Infantry.
"I've studied the Mission Parameters, Lan!" Becla said, undeterred. "I'm from the ghetto. The concrete jungle. I know nothing of bush craft. Of jungle warfare. My inexperience will get both of us killed. I'll make more noise than a rampaging Aligor, and you know it!"
"I have no idea what an Aligor is, Becla." Lan said with a smile that Becla recognized as an attempt to change the subject.
"It's a large forest predator that makes a lot of noise," Becla said, "because it can. We'll not be in the same situation. I'll get both of us killed."
"No," Lan said, half expecting her to become angry, but she smiled instead and said;
"It's not up to you. I've made up my mind."
"You will be receiving your Official Orders soon." Lan said. “They’ll not be open to debate. I have named a twenty man Team, and you're on it." Lan paused. "Well, it's not all men, or even all human, that is." He amended. Becla's jaw dropped in astonishment.
"Aliens?" She finally managed to sputter. "We'll be fighting next to aliens?"
Lan burst out laughing. Becla scowled. She was very pretty when she was angry, Lan thought.
"Well what's so funny?" She demanded.
"You." Lan said. "You look like you'd seen a ghost. A scary one!"
"I don't believe in ghosts and I don't want to fight beside any aliens!" Now she did speak angrily.
"I get the impression you would rather face a ghost, which I do believe in, by the way, than a friend who is an . . alien. And I dislike that word. I don't see them as alien. Only different. And this alien is a personal friend. A very deadly personal friend." Lan said. "I regard most of the human race as more alien than my Molog friend. He has more humanity than most humans."
"What kind?"
"Molog." Lan repeated.
"Oh no!" Becla exclaimed. "You cannot be serious!"
"He's a friend. There is nothing to fear. You'll appreciate his presence before this is over."
"I've heard of them. Who hasn't!" Becla said with a shudder she could not contain. "I've heard of them, but I never wanted to meet one firsthand. I still don't."
"Molog's aren't so bad. You'll see." Lan said. But the expression on Becla's face said she thought otherwise. That there was no way she could be convinced.
"I'll never forgive you this. I swear!" Becla said, looking very serious. "Must you bring in a Molog?"
"Yes." Lan said, but not harshly. "But not for some Senator's sake, but for my sister. She's the only family I have. And now you." Lan added hastily. "That's why I have to keep you at my side, where I, the others, and the Molog," at this he grinned at her wickedly, "can keep an eye on you!"
"I need no one to keep an eye on me!" Becla fumed as she abruptly turned to leave, but as she did leave, she threw over her shoulder, "but it's nice to know how much you care!"
"I don't care!" Lan said as she went out the hatchway, but he was sure that there had been a smile on her face, although all he had been able to see was the side of her head as she purposefully looked away as she departed.
Weak ghetto girl indeed! Most ghettos were rougher than the real thing! She'd be fine. It was the local predators of Bali who had better watch their backs!
His attention had barely settled back onto (or into, however you preferred it) the blurring scene outside the viewport when the lounge hatchway again opened. This time he did not miss it, though it opened as soundlessly as ever.
He turned, expecting to see Becla back to vent more of her frustration, but it was not Becla, it was the Major General, who Lan now knew as Major General Sanchez, and his Orderly Colonel Benjamin Barr. The trio had developed, in the very short time of their acquaintance, a mutual respect based on the stamp of competency, or in the Lan's case, extreme competency, all three sharing this trait and recognizing it within the others. That stamp that so few truly possessed.
"Bad news." Sanchez said as he came in. He flopped into a recliner with a total lack of military discipline, a lack that very few would ever see, and gave Lan a level look. Barr stood at his side. Lan was halfway to his feet, he gave his respect willingly to these men, but settled back when the General waved a negligent hand.
"Not my . . . " Lan began.
"Not your sister." Sanchez interrupted him. "We have no news from that quarter, I'm afraid."
"No news is better than bad news." Lan said.
"Possibly." Sanchez said. "Possibly not. The news I have is concerning your list. You'll have to pick several replacements. Several of the men you chose are unavailable. And one woman."
"Not available." Lan said, emphasizing the word available, but he was not asking a question. He knew what that meant.
"I hope they weren't close friends." Sanchez said. "Though one of them, let's see," Sanchez scrutinized a small computer he held in his hand, "oh yes, Gerald Mope. He retired."
"Mope made it!" Lan said, more in amazement than actually speaking to anyone.
"He retired as a Buck Private." Barr said with a humorous tone. "Ten years and nothing more than a Buck Private!"
"But he survived." Carter said. "That's about the only way you can." No one missed the touch of anger in his tone, and neither of the Officers blamed him for it.
"The Molog has agreed to participate as well." Sanchez said queerly. "He seemed eager after he heard he would be serving under you. At least that is the way the story was related to me. Is there anything here I should be aware of?"
"He's a friend." Lan said. "And he owes me a favor. Be glad he's offered his help. It could mean all the difference."
"Yes, well, Molog are certainly fighters." Major General Sanchez said. "Makes you wonder why they capitulated so quickly."
"They've the Hive mentality." Barr said.
"I know everything there is to know about them!" Sanchez snapped. It was the first time Lan had seen the General react crossly to Barr's constant, unsolicited interruptions, but it did not surprise him. Molog often affected men strongly, one way or the other. Humans reacted instinctively to
them, like they might to a poisonous spider or burrowing fly. The General's reaction did not reflect badly upon him, in Lan's view, it was simply instinct. Our instincts had carried us this far, and they could not be ignored.
Most humans loathed, were disgusted by, or outright hated the Molog race. Their distrust for them was almost universal. Lan doubted Sanchez feared anything that had to breathe air, the same as he, however. Sanchez' own climb up through the ranks had begun in the field, in the Infantry, too. If the man did possess fear, you would never see it visibly. He would go to his death with moral courage shining from his eyes. Lan was sure of that.
"Yes, Sir." Barr said belatedly, surprised.
"Here's the list of the unavailable." Sanchez said, handing Lan a piece of printout and back to business as if the issue of the Molog had never arisen. "I'll need six new names immediately, so I can get them on courier ships, and on their way."
Lan scanned the list, then made a short prayer for those who were departed, all of whom had been friends. Part of the reasoning behind whom he had picked for his Team was friendship and trust, and that a successful completion of this mission meant an elevation out of the rank and file of the Infantry. This list represented most of the friends he had in the entire Universe, and it had been shortened since last he had heard from some of them.
"These twelve will have to suffice." Lan said with finality. "I won't accept unknowns."
"Then we run with this." Sanchez said, standing up. He looked like he was about to say something more, possibly a reminder of how very important this mission was to the Corps, but then he must have changed his mind, because without further word he turned and strode from the lounge. The hatch silently whisked open at his approach, and Barr followed him out. The hatch sealed itself after they were gone.
Lan's eyes returned to the list of names and, after a short moment, back to the view beyond the hull of the ship.
Chapter 15
The not so distant blaster explosions woke Rebecca instantly. She did not wake groggily or slowly, even though she had already been deeply asleep, the sleep of total exhaustion. She woke with a clear mind and an instant awareness of the implications of the blaster fire in a place where there was only one person who could possess such a weapon.
"Baldwin!" Rebecca shrieked, screaming it at the top of her lungs. Her cuff light was on and illuminating her progress down out of the tree when Baldwin's voice drifted faintly back to her ears.
"Are you all right?" Was his reply.
She could not help smiling at the irony of the question, since he was the one firing his weapon, and she was the one supposed to be guarding him!
"I'm fine. Are you all right?" She yelled back.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Get into a tree. There are predators. They climb too."
She was already on the ground. "Stay where you are. I'll be right there."
"Are you crazy!" He screamed back.
Rebecca did not answer, she was already running, her sense of direction unerringly accurate.
"Stay where you are!" Baldwin screamed. His voice was already that much closer. The dim cone of light her cuff light cast easily illuminated her course. She ran at a full sprint.
"You're fucking crazy!" Baldwin said from above her when she found him. It had not been hard, with the smell of scorched wood and meat to lead her on her way, and the . . . thing . . . whatever it had been, it looked like a predatory hamster to her, laying vanquished under his tree.
Maybe hamster wasn't such a good analogy Rebecca thought, seeing the size of the thing. It had been at least twice as large as a man and heavily muscled. A killer for sure. There wasn't much left of it now.
"Come down here." Rebecca said. She pulled a wicked knife from her right boot, a knife which had been invisible until she freed it, and which she now used to begin butchering out the large hamster. What was left of the large hamster.
"What's for dinner?" Baldwin said as he reached her side. He was well armed, as she had suspected.
"Hamster." Rebecca said with a grin.
"Never did like em." Baldwin said. "My sister had one when we were kids. Cat got it. I might have accidentally left its cage open."
"This one would've gotten the cat." Rebecca said.
"What's wrong with your wrist?" He had just noticed.
"Broke." That got his attention.
"Give me the knife. I have some experience at this." Baldwin said. He took his blast rifle off his shoulder, set it down at the base of the tree, and then moved back to take the knife from her. She gladly relinquished it. Butchering one-handed was not easy, though she had been making a rough go of it.
Baldwin immediately noticed that he was less skilled with two functional hands than she seemed to have been with only her one, even though he really did have quite a bit of experience doing this. She began collecting small branches and twigs, careful to keep her light on his work, and soon had a small fire lit with an arc lighter she produced from another secret compartment in her boot.
"What else do you have in those boots?" Baldwin asked.
"Besides my feet," Rebecca said with a another smile, "everything a happy castaway might need."
"Locator beacon?" Baldwin asked.
"Unfortunately not." Rebecca said. "I didn't have 'crash land on a Prison Colony World' scheduled into my itinerary. I will keep it in mind for the future though." The light of the growing fire showed her cheerful mien.
"I'll never be going anywhere near another Prison Planet again, so I don't think it will be necessary. I assure you." He said.
"I don't know," Rebecca said, "it has its charms!"
"Like its five-star cuisine?" Baldwin replied. "Roast of giant predatory hamster. How much am I supposed to carve up?" He already had a large bloody pile, enough to feed an entire Squad, and plenty left remaining on what the blaster had left of the carcass.
"How many days would you like to eat?" Rebecca asked.
"How many days are we going to be here?"
"That's the five thousand Credit question, now isn't it?" Rebecca answered, enjoying their banter, a smile on her face.
"What are you so happy about?" Baldwin asked, forgetting his previous question.
"Just happy to be here." Rebecca said.
Baldwin did not get it, though he knew one thing; he would not want to be somewhere she did not want to be. No sir.
"It is rather nice here, isn't it." Baldwin agreed, elbow deep in gore.
"The blood's red. There are places where it isn't." She said as she skewered a chunk of meat with a green branch, then placed it in the crooks of two 'Y' branches she had stuck in the ground on either side of the fire. The fire began to hiss and pop as the meat dripped fat into the flames. Baldwin's stomach lurched at the smell of the cooking meat. This animal did not smell like the carrion eaters of earlier.
"We'll need to cure some of this. It's the only way it will last in this heat." Baldwin said. "It will take a couple days, but we have to do it."
"We don't have a couple days." Rebecca said, looking back the way they had come, as if she could already feel the pursuit she knew would be there, the uneasy feeling in her gut when she looked back left little doubt in her mind, when she had come to count on these feelings as an unerringly accurate sensory organ. Her sense for danger had saved her ass many times.
Baldwin stood up and gave her a look of annoyance. It would be stupid not to smoke all of this meat. Plus he wouldn't have butchered it all out. What hadn't been blasted away, anyway.
"How do you know we haven't a couple days?"
"They're behind us, all right." Rebecca said. "Trust me on this, I'm not wrong."
"But how do you know?"
"I grew up on a world just like this." Rebecca answered, not wanting to explain, but willing. "It was a brutal, dog eat dog place. I survived by trusting my instincts. They're back there all right, and they're coming. I can feel them."
What convinced him was the way her body stood poised as she leveled a look back the way the
y had come, like an animal might smell the wind, poised for flight. She suddenly looked very much at home in this forest. As if instead of being marooned here, this was a homecoming. As if she belonged here.
"They say humans devolve on these planets." Baldwin said.
"Hardly." Rebecca said, looking at him. "The incompetent are removed from the genetic pool. That's evolution, not the other way around. That's the whole principle behind the System."
"Sorry." Baldwin said. "I see I touched a nerve there."
"Civilization devolves mankind. The weakest, propped by social welfare, multiply the most rapidly. Mankind was stagnating before the advent of the Prison Colony World System. The incompetent were overwhelming the society. Criminality was becoming the norm. People were afraid to walk the streets. I'm no critic of the System."
"I see." Baldwin said, and he did.
"I was angry and hateful once I got off Calafga. My intentions were to make the Federation pay for what it had done to me and mine. All of those generations. But I went to school, and as I was educated, I began to realize the obvious point which I had missed; that it had been the best thing they could have done for us! These Prison Worlds re-energize the human race. They create survivors. Strengthen the genetic pool. I am the perfect example of this."
"Plus I found out what some of my ancestors had done." Rebecca added. "The punishments for those crimes could've been worse."
"There is always that." Baldwin said. "I was a Prosecutor before the election. I sent a lot of these people here. I had one of the toughest records for my position within several centuries."
"It won't go well for you if you're captured." Rebecca said. "I'll just be some Warlord's sex toy, but they'll put you over a slow fire. We can't allow that, now can we?"
"You'll get no argument out of me." Baldwin agreed.
A delicious aroma was rising from the searing meat. Rebecca set more pieces to cooking over and around the fire, where ever she could find room to squeeze them in, and the smell thickened in the air around them.
Duty, Honor or Death the Corps Sticks Page 10