"Idiots." Lan said as he passed one group of particularly excited crew. In a hand-to-hand battle with a Molog a human stood no chance whatsoever. It wouldn't be a hand to hand battle, it would be a hand to pincer battle. Humans did not come equipped with the natural, biological weapons which evolution had bestowed upon the Molog, but who the hell in their right mind would fight a Molog with their bare hands anyway!"
No. Within a ship in close quarters and armed similarly the Molog was no more an effective fighter than the nearest human with a blaster. In such close quarters the odds were fairly even. But set the Molog loose into a living environment, such as a jungle, like Bali, and the odds changed dramatically. Yes. Very dramatically.
In fact, there really were no odds.
Lan figured his own odds were he pitted against a Molog in a living environment such as Bali, would be about 50-50; he figured he would have about a fifty percent chance of even knowing the Molog was near, before it burned him to dust! His odds of survival? There were no odds. Less than zero. That was the simple reality of it.
Lan could have taken a lift tube to get there faster. The lift tubes traveled both vertically and horizontally throughout the ship, but he had never been fond of the devices. He simply did not like small enclosed places you could not get out of without power.
He did not mind the walk. The walk took twenty-four minutes and it was only across a small fraction of the vast bulk of the Battleship. A walk from one end to the other could take more than a day. In such cases he had no choice but to take the tubes, as much as he hated them.
The scene in Dock Twelve, when he walked in, looked very close to untenable. Gylastak's ship was sitting in the middle of the vast dock. Gylastak himself stood next to it, while a Squad commanded by a twitchy Lieutenant stood off at a small distance, their blast rifles shouldered and their fingers near the actuator studs. The men were pouring sweat from their exertions, of holding their weapons at the ready. The Molog stood motionless, seemingly indifferent to their display.
Gylastak could stand that way for days, and then without warning, transform into blinding motion. That was how the Molog hunted. Of course the Molog were meat eaters. That went without saying. Carter walked right up to the Lieutenant.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing!" Lan demanded scathingly. If he had stopped to think about it he should have expected something like this. He had been an idiot to think otherwise.
"This Molog cannot just have free run of the ship!" The Lieutenant said indignantly. Lan had to force himself not to grab and throttle the man; it would be as easy as breaking a chicken's neck. One quick twist!
Only Gylastak noted his emotion however, so impassive did Lan appear to remain. Gylastak smelled the rage rolling off Carter in waves of pheromones.
"I'd put those weapons up, were I you." Lan said conversationally to the Troopers. "If ya know what's best for ya." His smile was malicious. Most of the weapons went right up, though the Lieutenant had given no order. The Lieutenant's face turned a sickly red.
"Position . . . Attention!" The Lieutenant now said, though slowly, and with obvious fury. The remaining Troopers were quick now to respond.
The Lieutenant had lost face. The loss of military bearing within his Squad would be a memory all present would remember when they thought of the Officer. It meant nothing at all to Lan. A man like this had no business in a position of authority. Lan could blow his head off right then and there and not lose a blink of sleep. Men like this one cost Troopers their lives. Got better men than themselves killed. The Lieutenant had known that the Molog was supposed to be welcomed. His behavior was inexcusable.
"Put your ship in the back corner over there." Lan said pointing, and dismissing further thought of the Lieutenant as pointless. Men like him never learned.
Gylastak's head turned to follow Lan's pointing finger. Like an insect. Molog were not equipped with eyeballs, like every other species of intelligent alien man had encountered. Gylastak turned his head like an insect because he was an insect. Super highly evolved insect, but still an insect. You always knew when a Molog was looking at you.
As Gylastak's head turned, so did his ship lift from the deck of the dock. It flew, without visible means of propulsion, back into the corner where Lan had pointed, and then settled itself to the deck as noiselessly as it had risen. Gylastak had already returned his attention to Lan.
"They know do not to touch ship." Gylastak said. The Molog ship knew that humans were allies, but that did not mean it would appreciate being handled. It would not kill, but it could very likely react, and it was capable of doing so in many painful ways.
"Do we have to tell them?" Lan complained. Of course the whole Squad was listening intently. What else did they have to do it that moment! The Lieutenant still had them all standing there at Attention.
"Yes. New ship this. Not friendly. Hurt. Maybe kill."
"What happened to your last ship?" Lan asked, curious.
"Old. Tired. Recycled." Gylastak said.
Lan tried to imagine a Molog ship allowing itself to be recycled but could not. He could imagine a Molog ship eating a Molog which tried to recycle it.
"Not funny." Gylastak said, just as if he had read Lan's mind. The Molog were not mind readers, but they could read everything else, which made them about as close as you could get without being the actual article. The hormones, pheromones, and all the other chemicals human bodies produced and released, which the Molog could smell, told the story clearly, because each chemical release spoke in terms more clearly defined than language itself. The body's chemical releases could not lie or omit facts. The body's chemical releases told a story that even that body's owner might not be aware of. Or want known. The Molog were also masters of reading body language. If you were going to turn and flee for instance, they would know it as soon as you, if not sooner. There was absolutely nothing that you could hide from a Molog. Nothing.
Humans had developed a conscious mind later in their evolutionary development. And it is separate from the instinctual mind, the brain stem or the subconscious mind as it is better known, so that human actions, or reactions, are often mired in a conflict between the two, slowing down the whole process, even though it may not seem so to a human. But Molog consciousness is merely an extension, or expansion, of their reactive mind. There is no delay while separate portions of a brain work out their differing opinions on which action or reaction should be taken. Thus they act and react much more swiftly than humans.
"Gylastak," Lan said, "I've always wondered; what would happen if you were lost in deep space and you could not find food to feed your ship? I mean, you'd already be inside it, after all?"
"Gylastak feed Lan Carter to ship. Lan Carter not find funny anymore."
Carter laughed and clapped Gylastak on the back. The Molog was like a carbon post anchored to the deck. Completely immovable. They were about forty times stronger than humans. You might have better luck moving a small building.
"Lan Carter watch hand." Gylastak said in his inflectionless voice. "Gylastak might bite."
Lan laughed and clapped him on the shoulder again, but he wondered if he smelled of fear; Gylastak was his friend, and Lan knew Gylastak was only joking, but God damn were Molog intimidating!
"Let's go, Molog." Lan said as he headed for the exit. There was no sound behind him, but the itching between his shoulder blades told him Gylastak was there.
"Stink fear." Gylastak said behind him. No doubt it was true, Lan thought. He didn't bother to look back or respond. What was there to say. When they reached the hatch, it dilated open and they walked out into the corridor.
Becla was waiting in the corridor. On her face was an expression of firm resolve. Lan wondered how much it'd cost her to be here when he knew how terrified she was of the Molog. She did not look it.
"Lan Carter mate." Gylastak said instantly, halting beside Lan and facing Becla, who now began to blush furiously, glaring at Lan the while.
"I didn't sa
y anything." Lan protested.
"Smell." Gylastak explained. "Make sex."
Even though they had showered afterward this morning, Gylastak could still easily smell it. Not amazing. Even humans could smell sex.
"Warrior female. Gylastak friend. Comrades. Fight together. Team!" Gylastak said.
"He likes you." Lan said. "I think he wants to do you!" Lan joked, and earning himself a vicious glare from Becla and a snap of Gylastak's pincer near his head, from which he somehow did not flinch.
"Not careful Lan Carter, female eat Lan Carter." Gylastak said.
"I'm beginning to like you," Becla told Gylastak, "and beginning to dislike you." She told Lan.
"She telling the truth?" Lan asked Gylastak.
"Lan Carter smell, know."
"You backstabbing piece of shit!" Lan said. "First piece of pretty tail comes along and you stab me right away in my back. What a friend."
"Is that what I am?" Becla demanded, and Lan honestly could not tell if she was joking or not. If she were, she was hiding it well. Lan could only sigh.
Chapter 18
A hand shaking him roughly finally awakened him, and he slowly opened his eyes. It was still partially dark, but not entirely so. Obviously the sun was rising on his second day, and it was time to get moving.
"All that heavy sleeping will get you killed!" Rebecca told him harshly. He could not remember the last time someone had spoken to him in that tone of voice, but getting angry about it never crossed his mind.
Rebecca was standing on a branch next to him and glaring down into his face. He noted also that she was chewing.
"You're eating again?" Baldwin asked.
For a moment she looked like she was going to say something else sharp, but must have decided it was pointless. He thought she looked more than just a bit disgusted about it.
"You'd be wise to follow my example." Was all she said.
Baldwin pulled himself from the crook of the branch he had wedged himself into, glancing at the food in the tree around him while he did so. He knew she was right, he should eat more, but he felt no hunger at all. In fact, now that he thought about it, the thought filled him with disgust.
Waving away the insects crawling on the nearest piece, he took it up and began eating it anyway. There was no place here for softness or weakness, he knew. Either of those attributes would get someone killed, and that someone would be likely to be him.
It was disgusting!
"Smart boy." Rebecca told him. She was shoveling it in like a machine. The dirt, grease, dried sweat and blood covering her in no way detracting from her beauty, Baldwin suddenly realized. She was exquisite!
"We don't have time for that right now." Rebecca said, somehow guessing what he was thinking. It had probably been written clearly on his face, and then too, she was probably used to such looks. He did not deny it.
He had somewhat disappointed her. She wasn't used to men with the willpower to turn her down. At the same time, he had earned her respect. Now it was clear he was having second thoughts. She did not let the smile she was feeling show on her face.
"What are you smiling about?" Baldwin demanded. She had let the barest flicker of a smile cross her face, and Baldwin realized she had not meant for him to see it. "I wasn't thinking about that!" The lie now rose to his lips impulsively. Then he couldn't even believe he had said it, it was such an obvious lie, but he couldn't take it back now. It had been exactly what he had been thinking. What it would be like to bed her.
"Of course not." Rebecca said, letting her smile escape. She found herself now studying him, drawn to him, though she did not show that.
Rebecca understood power. The kind of power Baldwin possessed, and not because of his Office, but because he was the kind of man who could attain it, was different than the power of men she would ordinarily have found herself attracted to. She was ordinarily attracted to men with physical prowess, and she was surprised by her own reaction to him. He was not the kind of man she would ordinarily find herself attracted to.
Baldwin would stand no chance at all against her in a physical confrontation yet she was finding that this did not interfere with her concept of him as a powerful, desirable man. She now found herself with more than a professional interest in him. The desire to offer herself as more than merely a professional courtesy that came with her duties. She wondered if he would still decline now?
He looked at her strangely as these thoughts passed through her mind. Were her own thoughts now as transparent as had been his own? Hell, maybe so. Did that bother her? No. She decided that it did not.
Was she truly interested in him? Or was it merely because he had had the power to tell her no? Did he still have it?
"I can't eat anymore." Baldwin said, interrupting the play of emotions running so obviously across her face. He had not known her long, but this was the most open he had seen her allow herself to be. That it mirrored exactly what he had been thinking did not strike him as odd at all.
Two people often came to realizations about one another in such a duality. As if their minds had come to a psychic understanding with one another. A link of some kind. As if they were both aware of the others thoughts. That there was now something between them, something that would have to be explored further.
Struggling, they shook themselves out of their thoughts and focused on the immediacy of now. There was no forgetting that Rebecca was sure they were being followed and that they had little time.
"Can you run?" She asked.
"Do you think it's come to that?" He glanced back through the forest in which direction they had come. There was nothing visible there, out of the ordinary, that he was able to tell.
"Yes. I think it's come to that. It may already be too late. Depends on how long you can run. Can you run all day?"
Baldwin was sure that he could not. He nodded in the negative. "What are our options?"
"There are only two. For you" She answered. "Fight or flee. They cannot be allowed to capture you."
"I'm with you on that. But how do you know?"
"I just do. I can feel them. They're coming. They're very determined."
"There is no reason for both of us to be captured. I can't run all day." Baldwin said. "You go. I'll fight a holding action. It won't be that easy for them. They'll pay in spades! Go!"
"Look here dumbass!" Rebecca said, but now she was Colonel Collins speaking. "You're the Senator. I am the Security Tech. You do the running. I'll provide the holding action. That's how it's going to work. Get going." She began tossing chunks of meat out of the tree, but Baldwin would not move.
"We'll go together until I can't run anymore," Baldwin said, "then we'll stand and fight. Or we can stand and fight here. It's your decision, but those are the only options. I most certainly will not leave you behind!"
Rebecca glared at him from the lower branch she had moved down to, but did not repeat what she was thinking. It did not matter what she was thinking. He was not going to obey her. He would not abandon her to a band of primitive barbarians. There was no doubting what her fate would be if and when she were captured.
Especially with their changed circumstances. There was no way, he thought. She made no further comment as they climbed from the tree, but he could plainly see, by the set of her jaw and the steely look in her eye, what she thought of it.
"Let's go Super Hero." Colonel Collins snapped when they had gathered what they could carry. They began to run.
Colonel Collins chose a ground eating pace. His life had not been entirely sedentary, obviously. Despite their pace he was breathing easily enough now, but there was no question that he could not maintain it all day.
The brush and plant life tore at their clothing and impeded their progress. Baldwin's shoes were loose and ill-suited to this use, and kept him wary, lest a misstep send him tumbling with a twisted ankle. His legs were already weak and sore from yesterday. He doubted he could run long.
Rebecca ran effortlessly. If those who followed we
re anything like her Baldwin realized, then they were really in trouble. He was anyway. What kind of death could he expect at their hands? There was the very real possibility he was going to find out.
They ran on and on and soon Baldwin began to tire. It didn't happen immediately, he lasted longer than he expected, adrenaline fueling his exhausted body, but in the end it was inevitable and futile. Toward midday he was gasping like a fish out of water. Unable to put one more foot in front of the other, he finally fell to the ground, utterly exhausted.
"I can't go on."
Sweat ran in rivulets down his body. His chest burned. Stars danced within his vision. Yet Rebecca wasn't even breathing hard. There was compassion in her look, but something else as well.
"Go on." He told her. "I'll hold them." Her laugh was unexpected. Jarring.
"Foolish man." She said, shaking her head. Then she turned and ran back the way they had come, and quickly vanished in the thick growth of the forest.
Chapter 19
Humans are animals. Anyone who thinks otherwise is highly deluded, or righteously ignorant. Evolution had been proven by mapping the DNA. Every step of the human evolutionary process was there for all to see, the various forms man had possessed before his present form, and which was by no means his final form. Man was still evolving and adapting and would continue to do so until the end of time, when the expanding Universe reached its limits and contracted back in upon itself. Unless by then our control of the physical properties of matter had reached such a technological level that we could reverse the cyclic process of the Universe itself. But we had a long way to go to escape that Fate.
Nago knew none of that. What Nago did know was that there was to be conflict for survival, just like every other animal in the forest. The winner would survive and the loser would not. There was no simpler concept than this. Nago understood it intrinsically. All animals understood this. Survival in such a place demanded this understanding.
Duty, Honor or Death the Corps Sticks Page 12