Intrepid (19 page)

And what they didn’t know just might hurt them.

“But here’s the deal, folks. Let’s say that a story comes back to Jerusalem, that a bunch of Godless barbarian hicks on this out-of-the-way planet just slaughtered most of a battalion of the Lord’s Ever Victorious Host,” Kris started.

To be interrupted by, “We’re God-fearing Christians, here.”

“Ah,” Kris said, raising a finger to make the point. “But are you the right kind of believer? Or is your kind of Christian just as much an infidel as the prays-five-times-a-day Turk?” Murmurs slipped around the barn as the situation on Jerusalem was hashed over, and everyone came to terms with a whole different take on reality.

“What do you think might happen to us if we used the blood and bones of these invaders to manure our crops?” Bobby Joe asked.

“Maybe nothing,” Kris said. “Only a fool tells you she knows exactly what anyone is going to do. And a planet with a billion people?” Kris threw up her arms. “After all, look what someone told Cortez about how easy it would be to take down Panda. ‘They’re
only
farmers.’ ”

The barn got real quiet.

Kris spoke her next words softly. Folks leaned forward to better hear her. “If you look at old Earth’s bloodiest periods, there are several patterns that repeat. One is missionaries come. Missionaries get killed. Army comes. Houses and crops get burned. Natives get killed. And the flag comes last. Suddenly a whole lot of local folks find themselves with an empress or kaiser or president they never voted for.

“Oh, and your women. I got some of them toting guns along with the rest of your troops. That’s a no-no. Can’t work outside the home, and the same no-no with their clothes. A dress. A long dress, covering them from neck to toe. Oh, and a scarf or something on the head. Always.”

The barn didn’t stay quiet after that. Kris turned back to her team to let the farmers talk it out among themselves.

“How much of that did you make up?” Jack asked from behind a hand over his mouth.

“None, I think,” Kris said. “In high school I did a paper on New Jerusalem.” Kris shivered. “I couldn’t believe anyone would choose to live like that. I felt like I had to write it out to try to understand it.”

“You understand it?” Gunny asked.

“Nope,” Kris said.

The barn slowly settled down to a dull roar. It stayed that way until Bobby Joe Fronour stood. He got silence.

“Folks, forty years ago, I started this here planet. I didn’t much like folks telling me what to do, and I’ve lived to see it fill up with folks like me. I set it up figuring on certain things,” he said, looking around at the people gathered in the barn, and clearly proud of what he saw.

“I figured if anything I couldn’t handle came along, we together could handle it. Well, it looks like something bigger than that has come our way, and I want you to know that I’m mighty glad to have the help of this young Longknife whelp.”

Kris had been called many things. This was a first time for
whelp
. Kris wasn’t all that sure it was meant to be endearing. Quite a few listeners laughed.

Bobby Joe turned to Kris. “Mind you, I’m none too sure you’ll mosey on your way when you’re done here or that you and I will see eye to eye about when that golden moment may be.”

Kris did her best at a dramatic sigh. “So I’ll be adding another to the list of planets where I’ve been thanked but told not to come back.”

“Yes,” he said, deadly serious. “I imagine that’s a hard way to live. But you’re the one doing it, not me.”

For a moment, Kris tasted the loneliness of what her life would be like for someone so rooted to the fields and dirt.

For a moment, Kris felt the emptiness of her life.

She shook her head, willed away the emotions. People depended on her. That was enough.

“Okay, young Longknife, tell us what you would have us do.” And with those words, the old farmer sat back down.

The barn held its collective breath.

Kris took a moment to let all that she’d heard and felt soak through her. . . and out of her. Done, she squared her shoulders, and said, “I want all of you to accept the surrender of anyone willing to throw down his rifle and put his hands up. I want you to respect any white flag, handkerchief, call of camaradine, quarter, or ‘for God’s sake, I quit.’ ”

Red was back on his feet. “And what do we do with ’em. Wrap them up with a pretty bow?”

“No.” Kris snapped. “Hell no,” she added for emphasis, ’cause this crowd needed all the emphasis she could muster.

“Then what
do
we do?” Bobby Joe asked, climbing to his feet.

Red already had his mouth open to cross more words with Kris. Only old man Fronour could have gotten him to shut his yap, but he shut it and sat back down.

“They owe us, young lady. They owe us,” Bobby Joe repeated as he took his seat again.

Kris wanted to fire something back. Quick. Effective. She found she didn’t have any words even close to the tip of her tongue. Thoroughly unusual, that.

“Those guys present a real problem,” came from behind Kris in Gunny’s deep voice. “If I and my crew find ourselves in a bad place, even if we surrender, our ties to Wardhaven can’t be broken. Anyone who accepts our surrender knows that and knows they have Wardhaven to deal with about us.

“But these folks, they still wear the uniform of someone, but they’ve clearly been rented out to someone else. Gives an old enlisted swine like myself a painful headache.”

Kris turned back to face the old Marine. He gave her a twinkling wink. “Seems like something new that an officer might enjoy thinking through.”

“Gee thanks, Gunny,” she whispered. But he’d bought her time to think and defined some limits. Kris turned back to the farmers feeling almost confident that she did have a good idea.

“One of the things I keep hearing is that start-ups need labor. Lots of people to do the work. Panda any exception?”

“Nope,” Bobby Joe said, to be echoed through the barn.

“Now, it seems to me that anyone that’s been rented out to carry a gun doesn’t owe a lot to those who did it to him.”

“I wouldn’t,” Gunny growled. “Not after seeing a few of my buddies get wounded, killed.”

“So I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t feel free to offer these fine strapping men a job. Any of them that sign on with you, you can take. Any that want to go home, do.”

“With their guns!” Red was back on his feet.

“With the clothes on his or her back,” Kris interjected. She had it going her way. She didn’t want to lose them now. “Their military equipment is yours. You can sell it if you want. If I was in your shoes, I’d use it to equip a National Guard.”

The babble in the room sounded like it might be nearing an agreement.

“What about the officers? The apes that have been giving orders,” Red shouted, as soon as the background roar let him. “We going to let them get off with just some hard work?”

Kris had hoped that this question might get overlooked in the interest of getting a few things settled. She could really get to hate Red.

“No,” Kris said, already reading which way the room was blowing. Blast it, if she wanted to live by the polls like her father, she would have run for office. But there were reasons why her father did his best to follow the will of the people. They had elected him, and, as often as not, they were right.

Kris let her political instincts loose. “These officers have committed crimes against humanity, all humanity, by their raising arms against a peaceful people. As my prisoners, I would see that they face such charges and pay for them.”

“If you can do it, why not us?” was Red’s comeback.

“Because they planned their crimes inside the Rim. Inside the belly of civilization. People like them, who might be contemplating such crimes, need to see this, and think long and hard the next time the idea comes up. Justice systems inside the Rim failed to halt this crime. They need a wake-up call. That’s not to say you don’t have the right to try them yourselves. I’m just asking which better serves justice and the future.”

“That sounds more like a political solution than a legal one,” Red pointed out.

“Maybe ’cause it’s part of a political problem,” Bobby Joe pointed out before Kris said anything. Having half risen out of his chair to speak those words, Bobby Joe stood up.

“My boy told me that Earth done given up on its Society of Humanity. Earth and some of its cronies are going their way. The rest of us are going our own way. I hear your great-grandpa done come out of retirement to be a king or something.”

“Or something is more like it,” Kris said. “Lot of different folks going a lot of different ways. Turns out a lot of folks don’t like being told what to do.”

That actually got a chuckle out of the barn.

“But it gets kind of lonely out here on your own,” Bobby Joe said. “I guess I’m finding out that if you work like hell to make a good place, well, you better be ready to protect it, or somebody’s like to come along and steal it out from under you.”

The proud old farmer looked around, saw a sad kind of agreement in the eyes of folks looking back at him. He nodded before going on. “What’s this United Sentients doing, and what does it cost to join it?”

“They aren’t charging a membership fee,” Kris said, and immediately knew she’d missed the point.

“Everything has a price. We’re learning our freedom has a price, and we ain’t been paying our dues. Now we’ll pay full price tomorrow. What’s your old fart asking?”

Kris took a second to scratch her ear. Think. Then she shrugged and gave her usual answer. “Representatives from a hundred and twenty planets, maybe thirty by now, are meeting at Pitts Hope. I don’t know what they’ll decide. If you’re interested, I suggest you get some reps there to listen up, say a few words. Decide for yourself what you’ll give up and hold on to.”

“That may be what we have to do,” Bobby Joe said.

It was Gunny who stepped forward. “Ladies, gentlemen, who’s going to win tomorrow and who’s going to be surrendering isn’t something we can figure out tonight. But if we don’t get some sleep, it sure ain’t gonna help us.”

“Spoken like a true topkick,” Bobby Joe said, and followed Gunny in heading for someplace to bed down for the night.

“You find your roll, too, if I may say, Your Highness,” Gunny whispered as his mouth passed close to her ear. “Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

Kris must have been getting too experienced with times like these. She actually did sleep.

32

Cortez waited until the ever-seeing eye in the sky had passed below his horizon before he formed his troops. He’d woken them before the ship came over but left them in their bedrolls, showing the ship warm bodies just where they belonged.

As the troops made their way out of camp, the dozen stay-behinds began feeding wood into the campfires. They and the busted-ankle detail, along with the hostages, would keep the fires burning. Maybe that Longknife girl wouldn’t get any warning that Cortez’s little army was on the move until it was too late.

It would be nice to have luck break his way for a change.

But luck and hope couldn’t pass for a strategy.

Cortez assigned Major Zhukov command of the reinforced company of Guard Fusiliers from Torun. They’d take the wet road and come out of the swamps at the rear of the ditches. Their sudden appearance would be a major surprise for those hayseeds.

The psalm singers would take a more direct route, but they’d have to keep to cover and spread out. No matter how much Cortez pushed them, he doubted he could have them ready to assault the ditches before the next orbit. No, he’d have to spread out, stay cool in the morning dark, and do his best to be out of sight.

Nobody had ever told Colonel Cortez that soldiering was easy. He doubted he’d have taken the job if they had.

No, he had a tough leadership challenge and, to tell the truth, he was enjoying it. That Longknife brat had been calling the shots for too long. Now he’d name a few tunes and see how she liked dancing to his music.

The water flowed fast and deep around his little island OP, giving him a good place to retreat to if he needed to hide out awhile. And it gave him a bit of a view if he was reduced to using the old Mark I eyeball for intelligence gathering.

For the moment, what with the range and endurance limit on Nelly’s nanos, he chose to use the eyeball. Unless he saw something exciting, he’d keep the nanos huddled around his computer, conserving energy.

It would be nice if Nelly talked Kris into getting the Marines some decent personal computers. Not that the one on his wrist didn’t do all the Corps expected. But what the Corps expected and one princess demanded were not even close.

But wish in one hand and spit in the other, and see which you get the most out of. Bruce did not ration himself a laugh at his own joke. He was busy studying what lay before him in the light of a quarter moon. Panda’s only moon was a bit bigger than Wardhaven’s, so the light was fine. And he could smell and hear.

What he heard were small animals making nice if not familiar noises. They had fallen silent at his arrival; now they were back to full volume. The smell was something all its own, no hint of man or his things. Bruce kind of liked that.

What he saw was marsh grass, mirror-flat water, unbroken by wind. No, something just flopped into the shallow water. There was some thrashing about before silence returned. Some small hunter had gotten breakfast.

Bruce smiled grimly. Some much larger hunters would be making a whole lot more noise real soon now.

Flat on his back, under a bush, ready to push his face mask down and himself silently into the water at the first sign of business, the Marine sergeant lay like some primal beast at the water’s edge. A Marine was patient.

Matters would get lively soon enough. The Marine waited.

Ninety more minutes to keep up the game of “not here.” After that, they’d be in the open, and the cat would be out of the bag.

Kris had to shake her head as she watched her task force form up along both sides of her in three loose rows. Farmers nodded at the wheels. Even with their lights on, trucks had a hard time keeping properly in their place.

Maybe not all the drivers were awake.

A freckled gal with a pair of pigtails almost sideswiped the rig next to her. The catcalls she collected were no worse, nor any better, than the ones got by a guy who bumped the rig next to him. Maybe all the shouting put an end to sleepy driving. The task force spread out, and the bumper-car competition ended.

A few minutes later, the
Wasp
raced into the sky above them and Kris mashed her comm. “What’s it look like, Captain Drago?”

“Like someone’s trying to play with our sensor suite. They got the fires jacked up at the camp. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the cooks were planning on burning the coffee.”

“Or burning your sensors.”

“They’d have better luck with the coffee, my boys are on the job. Anyway, some of the bedrolls are occupied warm, others are cooling warm, and a whole lot of them are way below warm.”

The captain paused before going on. “You know, if I didn’t know that Your Highness’s opposition were all lazy bums, I’d suspect that they’d broken camp and were out causing mischief on this fine morning.”

“Those good boys would never do that,” Kris said, letting sarcasm flood her answer. “Can you tell me where they are?”

There was a long pause at that question. “I’m not sure I can,” Drago finally said. “We’ve got a bit of heat on the trail to the dugouts, but I’m not sure if I hadn’t drawn a line between their camp and them that I’d notice it. They’ve figured out a good way to go to ground. Good way.”

“Dig a hole, put a cool cover over it, and you’d be hard to see, too,” Kris said.

“Ah, there you go using words no self-respecting sailor would ever use. Dig a hole. Hide in the dirt. No. No. Not our way. Not at all.”

Kris suppressed a chuckle at the weird looks her starship captain was getting from dirt farmers. “Well, how about this. Things are going to get decisive in the not-too-distant future. I want you to creep up on Thorpe’s orbit. Get in a position so in a minute or two you could come over his horizon.”

“I pop into his gun sights all suddenlike and he might take a shot at me. Not with any malice, you know. Just kind of accidental-like.”

“I didn’t think you’d want us down here to have all the fun,” Kris chided him.

“What gave you that idea? Oh, no, you go right on and have it all,” Drago offered.

“I’ve already computed a course,” Navigator Sulwan Kann put in over the comm. “Do you want us coming up his tail or dropping back from ahead of him?”

“Let’s allow for the tail chase,” Kris said.

“Yes,” Captain Drago said, now deadly serious. “Yes. Let’s position us for a long tail chase.”

“Let me know if you pick up anything at all while you’re overhead.”

“We will. Bye for now.”

And Kris found herself once more alone in the dark night driving into a day that had not yet begun to dawn. But before the sun set, all the questions before her now would be answered.

“Everyone up. Get moving. You’re wasting daylight,” he shouted. Someone pointed out. . . in a whisper. . . that it was pitch-dark. Like a smart colonel, he ignored the wag.

“Don’t wad up that thermal blanket,” Cortez shouted at a psalm-singing private who had begun to do just that. Colonel Cortez was well aware that colonels do not correct privates. However, three sergeants in their white beanies were standing around doing nothing as at least one private destroyed his ability to hide from orbital spotting.

“Sergeants,” Captain Sawyer said, climbing out of a hole behind the colonel. “See that the men secure their property properly. This may not be the last hole we need to skulk in.”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeants answered, and began moving among their troops, turning wadded balls into squared-away packages.

“I’m sorry, Colonel,” Sawyer said. “The men had been briefed on the thermal blankets but not since we landed.” Which was a polite way of reminding the colonel that sometime in his copious spare time, he should have issued just such a reminder.

He hadn’t. Nothing could be done about that.

“Captain, your Third Company is the center. I want you to hit those ditches fast and hard. First and Second Companies will come in from your flanks,” Cortez said, glancing around. If they were not exactly milling about, they certainly weren’t moving toward the enemy. “What do you say Third challenges First and Second to a race to the ditches?”

The captain grinned. “Yes, sir. Sergeants, form the men. Form on me.” And with only the briefest of pauses: “Follow me,” Captain Sawyer said, pulling out his compass and taking a reading. He altered course slightly to the right.

Colonel Cortez trotted off to the right and found the young captain commanding First Company. “Third Company says they intend to beat you to the ditches.”

The Ever Victorious officer glanced up from where he and a sergeant were warming tea, from the smell of it. “In Joshua’s dreams,” he said. The semiwarmed water went into the grass, and the sergeant dashed off, shouting to his subordinates. In a moment they were formed and trotting off after Third.

Except for two troopers. One had stepped into a hole. The second stayed behind to render aid. Cortez paid little attention to them. He was already trotting for Second Company.

Someone had his eyes open. The youngest captain had mustered his troops and was already jogging after the other two.

Colonel Cortez swung himself around and followed in the tracks of Third Company. It was good to get this bunch moving toward contact. It would be very bad if they just kept running until they ran right into the fool farmers. Captain Sawyer probably had the smarts to halt his men at the last tree line on their side of the ditches. Probably.

Cortez would be a lot happier if he was there to make sure.

Nelly had also programmed the nanos to look for something to rest on. Some of the ones intended to cover the swamp and its approaches settled onto saw grass, reeds, and swamp scum. They reported their presence to the display on the sergeant’s eyepiece, then went silent. It showed good coverage.

A dozen or more nanos rode the wind, reaching out for the distant tree line. If he could get them caught near the top of a few broom trees, he’d have a good view of all the approaches.

For a good part of an hour, the Marine watched nothing happen. Then his wrist unit reminded him that the hostile spaceship would be overhead soon. Bruce closed his visor and pushed himself back into the water. He found a log, pinned a whip antenna on it, and slipped himself under it.

Something was already there, under the log. Something sharp and strong worried the Marine’s boot for a second. Bruce pulled his foot out and smashed out with it. That settled the argument. Unless it returned with its big brother or five, Bruce figured he had the log for the duration.

“We should have them whipped before you get back next orbit,” the ground pounder said.

“Colonel, you sound out of breath.”

“I am running. My command is running, William.”

“Just so long as it’s toward the enemy,” Mr. Whitebred said, smiling. Thorpe wondered if the idiot had any idea of the insult he’d just given to the ground half of the operation.

Hopefully, Colonel Cortez hadn’t heard him.

If he had, the colonel showed no interest in it. “Have you got anything better on those other hostile groups?” he asked.

“Nothing. One on the other side of the river. One or two north of you. I’m not sure if they haven’t all gathered at that area you call the ditches. Hard to tell from orbit to orbit and at night. But there’s no activity south of you. Wipe out these terrorists, and the rest will follow like sheep.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Cortez said.

The colonel’s age was beginning to show. He did sound winded.

“Since I have nothing more to report, I’ll click off and be waiting for your count of killed and captured. By the way, if you can capture that Longknife girl, I hear some people are willing to pay a pretty penny for her. More alive than dead, but whatever,” he said diffidently.

“We will count what we have to count,” Cortez said, and the commlink went dead.

“Hostile is out of our sky, ma’am.”

“Mount the troops, Gunny.”

Others beside Gunny moved to obey. A gray-haired woman in a long wool dress of many colors walked quickly among the farmhands, a rifle held comfortably in the crook of her elbow. “We’re wasting daylight,” she said in a firm voice.

“I don’t see no daylight,” some wag, a guy, shot back.

“Jacob, don’t be more stupid than you usually are,” put an end to that.

Drivers were more awake this time. The rigs rolled out of the barn, garage, and other outbuildings and quickly re-formed in the three lines that had become the norm. Inside of ten minutes, the wing from the other ranch formed on Kris’s right.

The east was starting to show color. The assault on the dugouts wouldn’t be long now. If Kris was in charge of that attack, she’d try to get at least part of the way across the killing ground before good light turned matters deadly.

That was the right way to do it. . . and despite the miserable choices she’d given Cortez so far, he done as well as he could with them.