by Tanya Huff
“It’s operating on instinct, sir. Look at the size of its brain case compared to its body. These things were designed to be eaten.”
Jarret swept a lilac gaze over the huge creature and whistled softly. “Eaten by what?”
“Once there were carnivoresss on Sssilsssvah of equal ssstature to a ghartivatrampasss.”
Jarret jumped, flushed, and tried to look as though he hadn’t reacted. Torin turned a bland gaze on the Silsviss, secure in the knowledge that no one could hear her heart slamming against her ribs. “What happened to them?” she asked.
Cri Sawyes shrugged. “A few ssstill exissst in zoosss. There’sss been much dissscussion lately about whether or not there should be a breeding program in place aimed at releasssing them back into the wild.”
“I can see how releasing something big enough to eat that might cause a few second thoughts.”
“Well, yesss, but the problem isss more one of ssspace. They’d need large pressservesss of their own. If they were released in with the young malesss they wouldn’t lassst a week.” His inner eyelids flicked across. “Defeating the ravatarasss was historically the choice way to prove manhood. Which, incidentally, isss why they’re very nearly extinct.”
“The young males killed them?”
“It took sssome time, of courssse, but, yesss.”
Jarret sucked thoughtfully on his coffee for a moment. “Could they kill that?”
“For food, yesss. A ssstrong leader could organize a hunt, but…”
“There’s a strong leader out there.”
All three heads turned toward the surrounding hills.
“Unless they’ve gone,” Torin offered, more because someone had to than because she believed it.
“No. They’re ssstill out there. Once the challenge hasss been given, they will not, can not, back down.”
Torin snorted. “I’m amazed the Silsviss aren’t extinct.”
“We have a better breeding program,” Cri Sawyes explained dryly.
“All right.” Jarret tossed his hair back, spreading it out like a lilac corona around his head. “We need time to regroup. If we frighten that thing up into the hills, they’ll have to kill it to keep it from trampling them. Once dead, it becomes food and they’ll all want some. Sharing it out will take some time.”
“And caussse a few fightsss asss well.”
“Which will buy us some more time.”
Torin nodded, understanding where the lieutenant was going. “Enough time and you never know, the horse may talk.”
“What?”
“Sorry, sir, an old Terran expression I picked up from Hollice. It means that given enough time, anything could happen. The Berganitan could return.”
“Exactly.” He frowned. “I thought Humans were the only verbal species on your home world?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then horses don’t…”
“No, sir.”
Surrendering for the moment, he flashed her a brilliant smile. “Once we’re clear of this situation, will you explain it to me?”
“Sir, once we’re clear of this…situation…” And only an officer would use so politely nondescript a word for the carnage they found themselves at the center of. “…I will happily deliver Corporal Hollice to you and he can explain not only that expression but a thousand more.”
“A thousand?”
“And he knows all the lyrics to something called ALW.”
“Thank you for the offer, Staff, but I’ll pass.”
* * *
“Look at those two,” Ressk grumbled, sucking vigorously at a bag of rations. “Sun’s barely up and they’re cheerfully planning the day. Don’t they ever sleep?”
“They can’t,” Binti yawned, trying scratch an itch in the center of her back. “He’s an officer and has to be an example to us all. And do you have to look like you’re enjoying that stuff?”
Ressk shrugged. “Chrick’s chrick. She’s not an officer.”
“Yeah, but it’s worse for her. She has to be an example to him. Fortunately, by the time you make staff, you’re so evolved you can piss into the wind and not get wet.”
“Mashona!”
Binti turned to see the staff sergeant beckoning her over.
“Looks like you’re wanted.”
“Looks like.”
* * *
“You want me to hit it where, sir?”
“Just under the base of its tail. It’ll be sensitive there and that should send it stampeding up into the hills. What?”
“Sorry, sir.” She took a deep breath and managed to stop laughing. Then she caught the staff sergeant’s eye and it almost sent her off again. “I didn’t get much sleep.”
“That’s all right, Private, none of us did. Can you do it?”
“Yes, sir.” The big thing carried its tail out from its body—not very far but far enough. “Now?”
“Now.”
She knelt in the angle of the building and the wall and rested her weapon on the grain bags. Officers. The lizards spend all day and part of the night trying to kill us, and we send them breakfast.…
FOURTEEN
The ghartivatrampas took a while to die although the delay was in no way due to a lack of enthusiasm on the part of the young Silsviss. Torin suspected that after failing to take the compound, their level of frustration was so high they were happy to kill anything. Although the smoke from a number of small fires had begun to smudge the sky, butchering the carcass and distributing the meat had barely begun.
Lieutenant Jarret’s idea had indeed bought them some time.
Time enough for the navy to return and pull them out? All Torin’s instincts said probably not.
She turned so she could watch the lieutenant talking to the Dornagain ambassador by the remains of the well and smiled.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Morning, Mike. Platoon taken care of?”
Sergeant Glicksohn leaned against the building beside her. “Everyone’s had their piss and porridge, and odd numbers along both walls are catching thirty. Except, of course, those who in the face of imminent death have to get it off one more time. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Do I like Lieutenant Jarret?” She shrugged. “Well, I haven’t had to shoot him yet. For an untried second suddenly commanding in combat, that’s saying something.”
He scratched at the quarter inch of dark hair filling in the area between collar and cheekbones. “Say more.”
“More?” Rolling up an empty food pouch, she shoved it in her pocket. “I think he’s handled everything that’s been thrown at him with remarkable aplomb. He gives orders like he means them, but he’s been willing to try new things. He honestly cares about his people, but he doesn’t let that paralyze him. He listens to those with more experience, then makes up his own…what?”
“You’re gushing.”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you are. You don’t think he’s enjoying all this…” One hand swept out in an arc around his body. “…a little too much?”
“He’s not enjoying the combat, but I’ll give you that he’s enjoying his chance to command.”
“And?”
“And he’s little more than a kid, Mike. He’s getting a chance to prove himself, and he’s doing a good job. Let him enjoy it.”
“You like him.”
Torin surrendered. “Yes, all right. Are you happy now? I like him. Given a little time, he’ll be an officer worth serving under.” It wasn’t until Mike’s brows rose to meet his hairline that she realized she was smiling again. “Never mind.”
“Do I look like the sort to speculate on a friend’s facial expressions? No.”
Torin banished the memory and dimmed the smile. “What do you think of him?”
“The platoon’s stopped glancing over at you when he gives them an order. That’s good enough for me.”
“Well, I’m happy if you’re happy.”
“I’d be happier if I had a couple of beers, twelve
hours’ sleep, and a chance to get Ressk in a game of five card draw.”
“Why Ressk?”
“The Krai can’t bluff for shit.”
“Probably why they don’t play.”
“Odds are.” Covering a yawn with the back of one hand, he gestured toward the center of the compound with the other. “Looks like you’re wanted. Wonder why he’s looking so cheerful.”
“He’s a morning person. It’s one of his least endearing traits. If it turns out to be more than that, I’ll let you know.” Torin reluctantly pushed herself off the wall and limped out of the sliver of shade into the sun. The fine patina of sweat that covered her entire body by her second step reminded her to find a moment and have Juan Checya look at her environmental controls. Collapsing from heat stroke came under setting a very bad example.
* * *
“Staff Sergeant, the Dornagain think they can repair the well.”
Torin looked down at the rubble-strewn, unstable piece of ground, then back up at her lieutenant. “With what, sir? Spit and luck?”
“With brute strength engineering, to hear the ambassador tell it. Point is, we’re going to need that water.” He glanced up at the section of sky that held the yellow-white circle of sun. “And soon.”
“Yes, sir. What did you want me to do?”
“See that the Dornagain get all the materials they need. They can have everything excepting weapons, helmets, and vests.”
“Stretchers?”
“Not all of them, but it won’t hurt if they use a few. We’re not going anywhere,” he added in response to her silent question. “Win or lose.”
She watched a muscle jump along the line of his jaw and knew exactly what he was thinking. “Win, sir.”
It took him a moment and then he smiled. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir. It’s my job to be sure.”
* * *
“Conn, what are you doing?”
“I’m looking at a vid of my daughter, what’s it look like I’m doing?” The corporal snorted and settled back against the grain bags, his slate propped up on his knee. “I took it just before we left the station; she’s showing me some kind of weird dance she made up.”
The Marine on his other side glanced down and grinned. “Hey, cute. Let me see.”
As Conn held out the slate, strong fingers closed around his wrist and augmented muscles dragged arm and slate back to his lap.
“Are you out of your mind?” the heavy gunner snarled. “Don’t you ever watch war vids?”
“The what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Some poor sap shows off a picture of his darling family back on station, and the next thing you know his brains have been spattered all over his buddies and they have to pry the picture from rigor mortis fingers. It’s guaranteed to get you bagged!”
“Guaranteed?”
“Yeah. It’s got the same bag rate as announcing to the world that you’re short. ‘Gosh, fellas…’” She plastered on a goofy grin. “…‘just three more months and I’m a civilian again and I know exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to go into partnership with my dad. He’s old and he needs me.’” The grin disappeared and she drew a line across her throat. “Speech like that and next thing you know, bagged.”
“But I am short.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Two more months and I’m a civ…” It was Conn’s turn to blink as her hand clamped over his mouth.
“I don’t know why I even bother talking to you,” she sighed.
* * *
“Staff? You’ve got to do something about Mysho.”
“Do what?” Torin asked, looking up from an ammunition list. Then she took a closer look at the way the two men facing her were standing. That couldn’t be comfortable. “Oh. I see.”
“We didn’t want to say anything, but she’s got her masker turned up as high as it’ll go, and it’s still not helping. Even when we…” He met Torin’s eyes, turned very red, and rushed on. “…you know, take care of it. It just comes right back and it’s…”
He paused to search for a word and Torin hid a smile. “Distracting?” she offered at last.
“Yeah, distracting.”
“And embarrassing,” the other man muttered.
“I’ll deal with it,” she told them.
* * *
“But, Staff, why my tunic?” Binti asked a moment later.
“Because Humans can deal with this heat better than the di’Taykan can. Mysho’s environmental controls are operating at no better than half capacity.”
“But why mine?”
“Because mine’s not working at all and yours will fit her.”
“Oh. Do I get hers in return?” she asked, unfastening her vest. “I mean, half capacity’s better than nothing.”
“Do you really want to wear a tunic a di’Taykan’s been pumping pheromones into all morning?”
“Uh…” She considered it.
“And deal with the next Silsviss attack?”
“I think I’ll just sweat.”
“Smart.”
* * *
Sometimes, Torin said to herself as she came back from burying Mysho’s tunic in the latrine, I forget how young most of this lot is.
“Staff Sergeant Kerr?”
“Dr. Leor.” She turned to face him, noting how dull his eyes had become. “Are you all right?”
He raised a long-fingered hand as if to block her concern. “This one is merely tired.” Unclipping her slate from his belt, he passed it over. “This one has found an antidote to the poison although the Humans may die too quickly for it to do any good. And also, this one regrets to inform you that one of the Marines injured in the crash died in the night.”
And sometimes you can only get through it by forgetting how young they are.
“Fraishin sha aren. Valynk sha haren.”
“Kal danic dir kadir. Kri ta chrikdan.”
“We will not forget. We will not fail you.”
The bags flattened, and Torin added four more cylinders to the four she already carried. And all the others that she’d never entirely put down.
* * *
“Sir! Movement on the hill!”
Jarret hurried out into the compound and scanned the horizon, one hand shading his eyes from the noon sun. “Where?”
“Everywhere, sir!”
“Get off the roof, then, both of you! Before they start shooting.”
“It’s showtime, people!” Stopping by the lieutenant’s side, Torin handed him his helmet.
He put it on without comment. “What’s that coming over the hill to the north?”
Flipping down her scanner, she frowned. “I believe it’s a rock, sir.”
“Big rock.”
“Yes, sir. I believe the word we’re looking for is boulder.”
Boulders, most taller than the Silsviss moving them, crested the hills to east, west, and south.
Jarret shook his head in disbelief. “How far did they have to go to get all those? That many boulders don’t just happen to be lying around on top of the ground, ready to be moved.”
“Yesss, they do,” Cri Sawyes told him, arriving in time to hear the lieutenant’s protest. “The area to the northeassst isss a glacial plain.”
“Next to a swamp!”
“The swamp isss to the wesst, Lieutenant Jarret. And it hasss been a very long time sssince the glaciersss rolled through.”
“Still…”
“There are a great many bodiesss out there, Lieutenant.”
“I’m aware of that, Cri Sawyes.”
“We have a sssaying, many handsss can move a mountain.”
“And apparently did,” Torin muttered.
“Yesss.”
* * *
“With two more dead, there’s going to be holes in the line,” Hollice mused.
“Yeah, holes. Nice to have an effect. My death’ll have no effect at all.”
Hollice sighed. “If you’re back in the depth
s of despair, I don’t want to hear about it. In fact, I’m sick of hearing about it and…” He turned to glare at the di’Taykan. “…if I hear one melancholy comment out of you, I’ll kill you myself.”
The turquoise eyes blinked. “That’s not…”
“I mean it, Haysole. I’ve had it with you. And I’ve had it with lying around here, too.”
“You’re in pieces.”
“So?” His right arm had been taped tightly against his side to keep it from losing its tenuous hold on his shoulder, the remains of the shoulder had been packed in under sealant, and thanks to the pain blockers, he still didn’t feel a thing. Dropping his left leg off the stretcher, he grabbed the edge with his left hand and hauled himself up into a sitting position. The world wobbled for a moment, then settled more or less level.
Reaching out cautiously, he scooped his helmet up off the floor and dropped it onto his head. “Staff Sergeant Kerr, Corporal Hollice. I have an idea that can free up two more Marines for the walls.”
“Two more?” Haysole asked when he flipped away the mike.
“Why not? You’re not holding your weapon with your toes.”
“I can’t stand.”
“Can you sit?”
“I don’t know.”
“So try.”
“What if I can’t?”
“We’ll flip you over on your stomach, and you can fire prone.”
The di’Taykan suddenly smiled. “It is a position I’m familiar with.”
“Is there a position you aren’t familiar with?” Hollice asked him wearily.
* * *
“This one does not believe it is a good idea.”
“It’s not my idea,” Torin reminded him. “It’s theirs. They seem to know what they’re capable of.”
“Do they? Do they know how movement and gravity act on their injuries? They think because they feel no pain they are not as damaged as they are. If the di’Taykan is not taken out of here soon, he will die of the injuries that keep his legs from working. Move him around, and he will die sooner rather than later.” Dr. Leor ran both hands up and over his crest, smoothing the feathers down tight against his skull. “If you wish this one to continue doctoring your people, Staff Sergeant, you will not fight this one on this matter.”
“Lieutenant Jarret…”
“Neither of you will fight.” His shoulders sagged. “This one thinks there is fighting enough going on.”