Valour's Choice (32 page)

“You’re probably right.” The di’Taykan sighed again, and his hair began to make a few tentative movements.

“No probably about it.” Hollice firmly believed that after a point living and dying was as much a state of mind as anything and no one was dying right next to him. Not if he had anything to say about it. “You feeling better?”

“Why not try groping it and find out?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re feeling better. My work here is done.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to...”

“Yes.”

“You are?”

“No.”

“But...”

“Get some sleep, Haysole.” A grenade exploded not far from the building and bits of chaff drifted down from the thatched roof, lightly dusting both men. “Or not.”

* * *

By the time Torin reached Lieutenant Jarret, grenades were exploding all around the compound.

“I ordered the heavies to blow up the closest bodies,” he told her. “Everything within the illumination of the flares. If we can keep them back out of arrow range, we don’t have a lot to worry about.” Then he caught sight of her expression. “What is it?”

“Aylex is dead. Poisoned. The doctor’s working on an antidote.”

“Too late.”

“Yes, sir, for Aylex, but there are plenty more Marines in this compound.”

Jarret looked around, squinting as the rain drove up under the edge of his helmet and into his face. “We can only react, can’t we?”

“It
is
the problem with a defensive position, sir.”

He nodded and waited for the sounds of another grenade to fade before saying solemnly, “I never expected my first command to be like this.”

Torin reached out and lightly grasped his arm. The di’Taykan needed touch for comfort. Humans kept insisting they didn’t. They were wrong. “No one ever does, sir.”

* * *

The rain stopped shortly after midnight. The Silsviss didn’t.

An arrow, its forward momentum almost spent, scraped across the abraded knuckles of a Human Marine. Humans proved to be significantly more susceptible than the di’Taykan. She died instantly, looking surprised.

About to fire a flare into the air, the heavy gunner by her side fired at the Silsviss archer instead. He also died instantly, but the smoke rising up from the burning hole in his chest made it impossible to see his expression before he fell.

* * *

Torin snuggled down into the clean sheets with a contented sigh. The feeling defined safety for her and had her whole life. As a child, it meant she was free of her father’s expectation that she’d take over the stupefying drudgery of the farm. As an adult, it meant she’d survived the filth and horror of combat once again, that
she
at least had survived. By then, she wasn’t always alone between the sheets because there was no point in survival unshared by those she cared for. Or was responsible for. Or, bottom line, both.

Sometimes it got a little crowded.

Today she was alone. She stretched out, thankful for the space, and smiled as the cool fabric slid across her skin.

“Staff Sergeant Kerr?”

“Sir!” Forcing her eyes to focus on the concerned gaze of Lieutenant Jarret, she realized to her intense embarrassment that she’d been asleep. “I’m sorry, sir. I just closed my eyes for a moment.”

“It’s all right, Staff. No harm done. It’s not like you were awake for the last thirty-two hours or anything.” Smiling, he handed her a pouch of coffee, already warmed. “Sun’s rising, the Silsviss seem to be having a lie in, and an old friend’s back.”

“An old friend?” She sucked at the spout as she stood, sliding the webbed strap of her KC up onto her shoulder. About to ask him what he was talking about, and hoping she could be polite about it, she felt the ground vibrate slightly. “Ah.”

The
ghartivatrampas
stood looking confused, forelegs shifting from one massive foot to the other, tail sweeping back and forth.

The wispy remains of an early morning fog laid a surreal perspective over the ring of carnage around the compound. The grenades had torn up the ground and scattered Silsviss body parts far and wide. One or two whole bodies, missed in the darkness and rain, punctuated the scene, beginning to bloat in the rising heat of the morning. Small scavengers scuttled about feasting on bits of flesh, occasionally squabbling over choice chunks, although there was certainly enough for all. Hundreds of thousands of carrion flies provided a constant background buzz.

“Why did it come back?” Jarret wondered as they watched the giant creature’s distress.

“This is probably a regular trail. I’m guessing it sleeps in the swamp at night where the water can support some of its bulk and heads out every morning to its grazing ground. At night it goes back to the swamp by a different route.”

“But why stay on a trail that leads through this?”

“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 to 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...

T
he
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.”