by Tanya Huff
He stared up at her and, after a long moment when the only sound in the compound was the thrumming of the Silsviss, he sighed. “Marines don’t quit, Staff Sergeant. We may retreat on occasion, but we don’t quit. Was that the answer you were looking for?”
“It was the only answer, sir.”
“You’re a serley pain in the ass, you know that, Staff?”
“Just part of the job, sir.”
The corners of his mouth curled up into a reluctant smile. He flipped down his mike. “Heads up, Marines, they’re coming back for more. If you need me, Staff, I’ll be in position on the perimeter.”
“Sir.”
“Do you really believe that you can sssurvive another attack?” Cri Sawyes asked quietly when Lieutenant Ghard was out of earshot.
“Not for a minute.”
“But you convinced the lieutenant.”
“I doubt it; he’s a pilot, not a fool. Attitude, Cri Sawyes, is all we have left.” She glared out at the surrounding hills, teeth clenched together so tightly her temples ached. Attitude wouldn’t be enough. Then she frowned. But it might be the answer. “What if we decided to play it their way?”
“Their way?” Cri Sawyes repeated.
“I challenge their leader, one on one. Winner takes all.” Her heart began to beat harder, faster.
“Do you think you could beat a young male in hisss prime? One whossse only thought isss to win?”
“Yes.”
“Thessse young malesss are not like that pitiful creature you fought in the bar.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
It was his turn to stare. “Perhapsss you could win, Ssstaff Sssergeant, but you are not the leader here. Lieutenant Ghard isss.”
“Oh, yeah.” It was a stupid idea anyway. She was a Confederation Marine, not some hormonally hopped-up teenager. Stupid, stupid idea. Her nails dug painful half moons into her palms. But it might have worked…
The thrumming changed suddenly, picking up a new rhythm and rising in pitch.
Torin swung her KC up and slid a finger behind the trigger guard. “You know, dying like this really annoys me.”
“Dying like what, Ssstaff Sssergeant?”
“Dying for no good reason.”
“It may not come to that.”
Her first step back to the perimeter became her only step. Cri Sawyes had sounded almost as though he were in shock. “What?”
“That isss not a challenge. Look.”
She looked out along the indicated path and saw three Silsviss coming down the hill, one carrying the bleached skull on the pole, one of the others carrying a wrapped object held out on both hands. “If it’s not a challenge, what is it?”
“I think it’sss a sssurrender.”
* * *
“I can take all three of them,” Binti said softly, squinting through her sight and targeting each in turn.
“No.” Standing behind the north wall, in line with the descending Silsviss, Lieutenant Ghard wiped his palms on his vest. “Let them come.”
Barely turning her head, Binti glanced up at Torin, who nodded.
“They must know we can drop them,” she murmured. “They’ve got balls, I’ll give them that.”
“Their ballsss are what got usss all into thisss messs,” Cri Sawyes observed dryly.
Binti snickered. “Ain’t that usually the case.”
The three Silsviss split up to move through the boulders, then re-formed on the other side. Where they waited.
“Now what?” Ghard demanded.
“I suspect they want us to go out and meet them, sir.”
“I don’t trust them.”
“Cri Sawyes and I will go if you want.”
“Oh, yeah,” he snorted. “Like it would be better to lose you than me. No chance of Lieutenant Jarret regaining consciousness in the next couple of seconds?”
If only. “No, sir.”
“Pity.” He shoved his feet into his boots and straight-armed himself over the grain bags. “Private Mashona.”
“Sir?”
“If we fall, see that they fall right after us.”
“Yes, sir!”
I notice you didn’t check with me on that order, Torin thought, following the lieutenant.
“Keep your mike on, Staff. I want everyone to hear what’s happening.”
“Yes, sir.”
Clouds of carrion flies rose up as they walked, settling almost immediately behind them. They had little enough time to feed before the sun baked all moisture out of the dead.
It took Torin a moment to realize that the faint hissing she could hear was Lieutenant Ghard sucking air through his teeth. The Krai sense of smell wasn’t as acute as a di’Taykan’s, but it beat out a Human’s three to one. And his nose was about half a meter closer to the ground than hers was.
As the two Marines and Cri Sawyes stopped about nine meters from the three Silsviss, the thrumming from the hills softened until Torin could barely hear it. Now what?
Their backs against one of the boulders, the Silsviss stared, throat pouches inflating and deflating slightly with every breath.
Just kids, Torin realized. Next to Cri Sawyes, their physical immaturity was obvious. They were smaller, their faces were sharper, and they fidgeted constantly, tails jerking through agitated figure eights.
This is the first time they’ve gotten a good look at us. Probably the first time they’ve seen mammals our size. She remembered the first time she’d seen a Mictok and wondered at the lack of reaction. Still, we’ve been killing each other for days now, I guess they feel like they know us.
The Silsviss holding the skull stepped forward, shifted his grip, half turned, and smashed the bone against the rock.
Torin’s finger was on the trigger by the time the shards settled. She couldn’t hear the thrumming over the pounding of her heart.
No one moved.
Then the Silsviss holding the wrapped object stepped forward. Moving slowly, submissively, the third Silsviss unwrapped it.
Torin stared down at the bloody head and thought she’d never seen anything quite so pathetic.
“Their leader,” Cri Sawyes murmured. “He dissshonored hisss pack by losssing—asss you hadn’t killed him, they did. You’re to mount hisss ssskull asss a sssymbol of your victory.”
“We are?” Lieutenant Ghard sounded dubious about the honor. “Could you get that, Staff Sergeant Kerr?”
“Yes, sir.”
It was surprisingly heavy.
* * *
The walk back to the perimeter seemed to take longer than the walk out. Carrying the rewrapped head in outstretched hands, Torin listened to Sergeant Chou’s voice describe the Silsviss returning to the top of the hill and tried not to think about what she was stepping in. At the grain bags, she waited until both Lieutenant Ghard and Cri Sawyes were over. Then she set the head down and followed.
She could feel every eye in the compound on her as she picked it up again. If that was a trick, now would be the time to attack.
“They’re back at the top of the hill,” Sergeant Chou announced over the helmet relay. “Nothing seems to be happening.”
The thrumming grew louder.
“Fuk!”
Torin had no idea which Marine had said it, but it seemed to sum up the situation.
Then the thrumming stopped.
“They’re gone.” Cri Sawyes blew out his throat pouch, then deflated it completely. “All of them.”
Although he could no more see beyond the hills than any of them, there was something in his voice Torin had to believe. When there was no reaction, she remembered that only Sergeant Chou, Lieutenant Ghard, and herself had understood. She waited a moment, scanning the empty horizon, willing it to remain empty; then she translated Cri Sawyes’ observation.
“They’re gone. All of them.”
The cheers and whistles were fifteen voices short, but they sounded good regardless.
“What are you going to do with the head?” Lieut
enant Ghard demanded. When the noise in the compound suddenly stopped, he snatched off his helmet and scowled into it, muttering, “Forgot the serley thing was on.”
Technically, the question should have been what was he going to do with the head, but since he seemed to be leaving it up to her… Torin grinned and, lifting the bloody package high into the air, raised her voice. Staff sergeants did not need microphones to make themselves heard. “I’m going to mount the skull as a symbol of our victory!”
This time, the cheers and whistles were loud enough that she could almost believe she didn’t carry thirteen small metal cylinders in her vest. Conscious of Cri Sawyes’ gaze, she lowered her arms and turned to face him.
“Will your Confederation allow you to hold sssuch a battle honor?” he asked.
“I’d like to see them try and stop me.” The blood that had run down her wrists was beginning to itch as it dried.
Cri Sawyes’ tongue flicked out. “Asss a matter of fact, Ssstaff Sssergeant, ssso would I.”
* * *
Torin slipped the head inside the doctor’s largest specimen bag, sealed it, and activated the charge. In a matter of hours, there’d be nothing left of the soft tissue but a full molecular survey. Time enough then to go looking for a stick to mount it on, she reasoned, crossing to Lieutenant Jarret’s stretcher. He was still stable and still unconscious, although Dr. Leor was working on an antidote to the antidote.
She squatted beside him and laid her hand over his. After a moment of watching his chest rise and fall, she sighed and stood. Nothing had occurred to her except half a dozen well-worn clichés.
One good thing about the kind of battle they’d just been through together; it put that unfortunate night into the proper perspective. In comparison, it meant nothing at all. Which was exactly how it had to be.
In the next room, the Dornagain ambassador had somehow convinced the Mictok to emerge from their protective cocoon. Remaining seven limbs held tight to her body, Ambassador Krik’vir lay cradled in a nest of webbing, her companions protectively grouped to either side and above her. As Torin approached, she swiveled an eyestalk around and broke off her conversation with the Dornagain.
“Staff Sergeant Kerr, the Human who saved us; he has died?”
“Yes, Ambassador.”
“We are sorry to hear that. We are sorry to hear of any death, but this one we feel responsible for.”
“You’re not. Sergeant Glicksohn chose to save you.”
“Knowing that it put him at risk?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We find it strange,” the ambassador murmured, almost to herself, “how a species can be able to make such a sacrifice one moment and can kill another sentient being the next. This mix of caring and violence is most confusing—it must be a factor of bisymmetrical species.” Then realizing whom she could count in her audience, she swiveled an eyestalk up toward the Dornagain. “We mean no offense.”
He smiled. “We take none.”
“Staff Sergeant Kerr, will you see to it that we receive the details of Sergeant Glicksohn’s life? We will ensure that he is never forgotten and will live forever in Mictok memory.”
“Every time I see one, this little voice inside my head keeps screaming, Get it off me! Get it off me!”
“You’ll have the download as soon as possible,” Torin assured her, thinking that Mike would appreciate the irony.
“We thank you for your assistance in this matter.” Ambassador Krik’vir shifted position slightly, causing a ripple effect through her companions. “We understand the Silsviss have offered you the victory and retreated.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So it has ended. What happens now?”
Torin actually had her mouth open to answer when her implant chimed, letting her know she was back on-line.
“Staff!” Ressk hobbled in from the front room. “Lieutenant Ghard says the Berganitan is back! They’re sending another VTA to evac!”
Feeling somehow separate from the nearly hysterical reaction of Marines and civilians alike, Torin found herself wondering why she wasn’t more surprised by the Navy’s sudden reappearance.
* * *
Med-op stripped the old sealant off Torin’s arm and leg, pronounced the healing well under way, resealed only the leg wound, and released her. Scratching at the dry skin on her arm, she made her way through the crowded outpatient area to the quieter section reserved for those who’d need bed rest to recover.
“Hey, Staff! What’s the word on the lieutenant?”
She stopped at the end of Hollice’s bed. “He’ll make a full recovery. They’re bringing him up slowly, but he should be conscious by 1500.”
“And Captain Daniels?”
“Tanked. But they’re still running tests to determine the full extent of the damage.”
“Maybe now Lieutenant Ghard’ll stop acting like a hen with one chick.”
“Maybe.”
“You think they’re getting it on?”
“I try not to think about the sex life of officers, thank you, Corporal. But since you ask, no. The lieutenant clearly worships the ground the captain flies over. If she should lose her mind and agree, he’d never be able to get it up.” She nodded toward Hollice’s heavily sealed shoulder. “I expect they’ll be tanking you, too.”
“Yeah. Full body immersion.” He shuddered, dramatically. “I hate it. You come out with your fingers and toes all wrinkled, and while you’re in there, it’s like returning to the womb without the room service.”
“The what?”
“Not important. Hey, Staff?” Eyes narrowed, Hollice lifted his head off the pillow, as though he had words for her ears alone. “Is it just me or is there one hell of a lot of medical personnel here? I mean, this is twice the size of what we usually get, they’ve added six med-op modules to the ship.”
“It isn’t just you,” Torin told him shortly. No one had been able, or willing, to tell her why the remnants of a single platoon were getting so much grade-A attention. It wasn’t that she was complaining, and it wasn’t any more than her people deserved, but the whole thing added to the nebulous feeling she’d had since pickup that something wasn’t exactly level.
Not, not just since pickup…
Circling the room, she spent a moment with everyone else, advising Ressk not to get any of the KC’s cleaning solution on his bad leg. “That stuff’ll dissolve the sealant, you know.”
“I know.” He showed her a missing patch about two centimeters square. “But it’s the first chance I’ve had to strip it down, Staff. First time in days I haven’t been actually using it. Although,” he added, “if that chirpy Human medic says ‘And how are we feeling?’ one more serley time…”
“You’ll grin and bear it.”
“Not my first choice,” Ressk grumbled as she walked away.
Stepping outside the medical module, Torin noticed a lock that led out of the Marines’ section of the ship. Not entirely certain why, she walked over to it and hit the release. Her implant chimed.
*Access denied without proper clearances.*
That was new. But somehow not unexpected.
Seemed like the brass didn’t want word of their experience on Silsvah reaching unauthorized ears. Didn’t want it discussed over a jar of beer in the Chief’s and PO’s mess. Interesting.
Rolling various bits of memory over to see the other side, she turned and made her way to the ladder leading down to the platoon’s quarters. Those Marines who’d either come through miraculously unscathed or, like her, able to be patched and released, had cleaned their weapons, eaten a huge meal, and with only two exceptions, crawled into their bunks. Kleers was still eating, and Corporal Conn was deeply immersed in the vid from his wife and daughter he’d found waiting for him.
Torin took the report from Sergeant Chou, told her to get some sleep, and went into her own quarters, where she methodically wrote up the casualty reports, entered a recommendation that Corporal Adrian Hollice and Private
First Class di’Stenjic Haysole receive the Medal of Honor, then sat and stared at her reflection on the desktop screen. When no answers were forthcoming from her other self, she called up the military news channel, half-expecting it to be blocked.
There were no reports of the Berganitan being in a battle although the Others were moving quickly toward the sector. The Silsviss hadn’t yet signed the treaty, and time was running out. The phrase vitally important was used seven times in a ten-minute report. It was vitally important the work on the defense grid begin immediately or it wouldn’t be ready to activate in time. It was, therefore, vitally important the Silsviss sign the treaty. The remaining five occurrences were variations on the theme.
She keyed in the code for Ressk’s slate and, when he responded, sent him an encoded text-only message.
At 1430 Twin’s implant chimed.
*General Morris would like to see you in his office at 1530.*
So. General Morris was on board. Another nonsurprise.
She showered, changed into her service uniform, downloaded the reports into her slate, and paused at 1455, one hand raised to activate the door. If she was about to hear her suspicions confirmed, there were others who deserved to be there.
With the familiar weight of her combat vest resting on her shoulders, Torin made her way back to the med-op modules.
* * *
“The lieutenant is awake, Staff Sergeant. However, I don’t feel that it’s in his best interests to have visitors at this time.”
“Sir, I am on my way to speak with General Morris about a…” The pause was deliberate and went on just long enough for the captain to begin frowning. “…situation where the lieutenant was in command. The general will want to know his condition.”
“The general will find out Lieutenant Jarret’s condition from me, Staff Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir,” Torin acknowledged. “But I also have casualty reports the lieutenant will need to see, and…”
“Let me speak plainly, Staff Sergeant. I have been given orders that no one is to talk to the lieutenant before the general debriefs him.” The fuchsia gaze flickered around the room, alighting everywhere but on Torin. “That will be all, Staff Sergeant.”