“What happened to Pollard?”
“I had him arrested, of course. Once we started taking Fallzoud, we sort of restructured the chain of command. We were in charge, and we didn’t need natural-born officers screwing with us, so we put them in the brig.”
“Is he still in the brig?” I started to form a plan. If Freeman and I could slip on board that ship, we might be able to free the officers. Maybe we could put together a counter-mutiny.
“No, you saw to that,” Lee said without any sign of emotion. “Once we spotted you in space, the officers decided to break loose so we had to kill them.”
“You killed them?” I asked. “In their cells? Unarmed officers could not possibly break out of those cells.”
Lee stopped to consider this. “I never really thought about it,” he said, sounding mildly surprised but not at all bothered by this comment. “I sent a platoon to take care of them, and that was the last I heard of it.”
Sunlight poured through the trees in the distance. We had walked near a large clearing in the woods. Here the buzz of cicadas or something similar filled the air. In the distance, the bare metal hull of a military transport sparked in the sunlight. For a moment I thought Vince might have lured me here to shoot me. But that was the last thing on his mind. He was on a drug that shut down his emotions. All of his men were on that drug.
They probably did not eat or sleep much. They just over-medicated in the mornings and lived with the side effects. Paranoia, mood swings, lack of appetite . . . I knew what was wrong with Lee and that other Marine—they were insane and I had no way of knowing how long their drug supply would hold out.
Lee turned and started back in the direction we had come from. “So what do you say, Wayson? Are you going to give me your self-broadcasting ship?”
I had misunderstood the situation, and it was by sheer luck that we had not all been killed. No sane man would destroy a space ship he needed just because he could not have it. An insane man, however, might. “Can I have a couple of days to consider my options?” I asked.
“Sure,” Lee said, sounding magnanimous. “But if you so much as power your engines, I’ll blow that specking ship of yours into the next galaxy. Do we have a deal?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
I had that ridiculous combat knife, two M27s, and a particle beam pistol. Ray had one pistol that fired bullets and another that fired a particle beam, assorted knives, an oversized particle beam cannon, a sniper rifle, and a satchel filled with grenades. Of course, if the battle went right, we could pick up more weapons as we went along.
“If they’re still living by the book, they’re luding up in the morning. I think that was why it took Lee so long to come down. He had to take his Fallzoud then wait for his brains to unscramble.”
We were holding an emergency conference in the Starliner—the closest thing we had to a war room. Archie and the three elders sat in the front row of the Starliner. Of the 113 people in the congregation, only twenty-three were men of combat age. I held an informal census and found sixty-nine women (girls included), thirteen boys below the age of sixteen, and eight men ages fifty or older. The twenty-three combat-aged men were wedged into the cabin of the Starliner. Three of them sat on the floor.
“Luding?” one of the elders asked. “What is that?”
I had just explained everything I knew. I told them about Fallzoud, and how it had enabled Lee and the other clones to cope with the knowledge of their origins. I told them about how Lee had murdered the natural-born officers and that I thought he was insane.
“Medicating . . .” Archie said. “They take their medicine in the morning . . .”
“Fallzoud? You ever heard of that drug?” Archie looked at Ray whenever he asked questions. So did most of the other men in the cabin. Ray and I were in the cockpit leading this huddle.
Ray shook his head.
“Vince said it was a serotonin inhibitor,” I said. “I’m no doctor, but if he’s taking it to stop the death reflex, then Fallzoud is some kind of relaxation drug.”
“And you think the drug leaves him weak?” Archie asked.
“I’m guessing that the drug leaves him limp,” I said. “We wait until they’re strung out, and then we attack.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” one of the elders said. “How many men are on that ship?”
“That ship is the Grant,” I said. “It is a U.A. fighter carrier. Fully staffed, it has two thousand and five hundred men, one fifth of whom were officers. All but one of those officers are dead. Ray and I took care of five of the enlisted men. That leaves us with one thousand and nine hundred and ninety-five, give or take a few.
“To have narrowed the odds down that far before even getting started . . . well, I’m feeling pretty confident,” I said.
No one responded.
“Do you have a plan?” Archie asked, rising to his feet.
“I saw the transport that the Marines came in on last night. It’s a couple of miles away through that forest. I suggest we slip in and spy on the transport tomorrow morning. We wait until we are sure they’ve luded up . . .”
“And kill them?” one of the youngest elders asked. He might have been twenty years old. Just a kid, I thought. He was tall and wiry with broad shoulders and long arms.
“We kill them or they kill us,” Ray said in his familiar flat tone. All expression had left his demeanor. “Sometimes those are your only choices.”
Ray always seemed slightly embarrassed around his people, and the haughty way they acted around him did not help matters.
“Levi and Simeon killed thousands of Hivites in a single day,” Archie said. “They did it just like Raymond and Mr. Harris have suggested.” I did not know the story, but everyone in the congregation apparently did. Whether it was Archie’s story or just his support, the tenor of the meeting changed. The elders nodded, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t hear a couple of quiet hallelujahs.
After the meeting, Marianne told me what happened between Levi, Simeon, and a Hivite prince named Shechem. It was from the Bible, so she knew I wouldn’t know it.
This man named Jacob had 12 sons by different wives. Two of the boys, Levi and Simeon, and a girl named Dinah, came from the same mother. Sechem raped Dinah then asked Jacob, her father, for her hand in marriage. Levi and Simeon told Jacob they would allow the marriage as long as Shechem and all the men of his city got circumcised. Shechem agreed and managed to convince all his men to follow.
So Levi and Simeon waited until the men of the town were foreskin-less and helpless, then they grabbed their swords and rode into town. None of the men in town could stand up to them, so to speak, so Levi and Simeon killed every man in the town.
Archie equated Ray and me with two conniving murders. Hallelujah.
It was late at night by the time we adjourned. Stars twinkled in the sky. A distant moon showed in the darkness.
“Do you think one of those stars is their battleship?” Marianne asked me. She, Caleb, and I all sat on the large boulder overlooking the river. She had her hands wrapped around my bicep.
The night was cool, her hands were warm. She rested her body against mine. This night might be the night, I thought to myself. She had that kind of sparkle in her eye.
“It’s a thousand miles away,” I said. “You might not even spot it with a telescope. It’s too small and too far away.”
“Are you scared?” Caleb asked me. He did not know the details, but he knew we planned to attack.
“No,” I said. Then I thought about it. “Yes. Yes I’m scared. But this is not the first time I’ve been scared. And I don’t think this is the most dangerous thing that I’ve ever done.”
The water rushing down the river made a cool, crisp churning noise. The sound conjured old images in my head. I thought of Tabor Shannon and Bryce Klyber, friends who had died. I thought of Klein, the clumsy one-handed assassin who tried to shoot Vince Lee because Freeman talked him into wearing my helmet.
The air was cool a
nd the fresh scent of pine carried in the breeze. At that moment, I wanted to live on this planet with Marianne as my wife and Caleb as my son. It was the best offer anyone had given me.
“You have seven guns and a knife,” Caleb said. “And you’re going to attack forty Marines in combat armor. I’d be scared.”
“Shhhh,” Marianne said. “Someone could be listening out there.”
“You ever heard of David and Goliath?” Caleb asked.
“Yes, I’ve heard of David and Goliath,” I said. “Goliath was the giant and David was the shepherd king.”
“It’s from the Bible,” Caleb said.
“So I hear.”
“Just making sure,” the boy said.
“Christ is from the Bible, too,” I said. “I’ve heard of him as well.”
“Anyway,” Caleb said, ignoring my comment, “You guys going against those Marines, that’s kind of like David fighting Goliath.”
“I wish it was that easy,” I said.
“Easy?” Caleb picked up a stone and tossed it into the water. “Goliath could have killed any man.”
“You’ve got it all wrong,” I said. “King David was never in danger. Every Goliath has a weakness. David just knew what it was.”
“He knew Goliath’s weakness,” Caleb repeated. “Man, that’s smart.”
Sure it was smart, I thought, I was a synthetic Bible scholar.
A few minutes later, Marianne took Caleb to sleep in the Starliner. Archie was in the ship. He was the man with the grenade, just in case Lee’s men came before we got to them.
I sat alone on the river bank thinking about Marianne. I imagined taking off her clothes and feeling her warm body. I imagined her lying down with her long hair forming a sheet beneath her back. My body responded to the fantasy.
When Marianne returned, she walked slowly. I could see her clearly in the moonlight. Her skin was smooth. Her eyes remained on mine. She seemed to catch the moonlight in her hair. Without saying a word, she sat beside me and pressed her mouth against mine. She was breathing hard now. The kiss was warm and wet. I reached through her hair, wrapped my hand around her head, and held her close.
It happens like this, I thought to myself. Just like this.
The kiss ended and she pulled her face a few inches from mine. “Wayson,” she whispered.
I could have had her on that night. Instead, I stood to leave. “I love you,” I said, “but I cannot do this. I cannot stay on this planet, and you’re looking for someone who will stay.”
“It’s all right, Wayson,” she said, taking my hand. “I know and I understand.”
By this time, I had already made up my mind, and the mood was gone.
I could have made love to her that night. I should have made love to her that night. As things turned out, we would never make love.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Ray Freeman crawled forward on his stomach, brought up his sniper scope, and checked on the guards. The scope had night-for-day vision and powerful magnification. The guards were 300 yards away, but that hardly mattered. Using Freeman’s scope, I could have counted the hairs on their heads.
Of the twenty-three combat-aged men, we only brought twenty with us. One was too scared. We left two to guard the camp in case we never returned.
We hid along the edge of that primal forest. We heard the scratch of tiny animals running among the branches overhead and the occasional howl of something larger marching upon the forest floor, but we never saw anything creeping or climbing. These woods were dark in the sunlight and black in the night.
“Have a look at this,” Freeman said.
Two Marines guarded the clearing sitting on a log. They did not have a fire. They did not need one. The night-for-day lenses in their helmets gave them better vision than a fire could ever offer. The ventilation in their bodysuits kept their environment a comfortable 75 degrees.
I lay down on the ground beside Freeman and shifted my weight so that I could peer through the scope. In the distance, the sun had just begun to rise, and that part of the sky was a rich blue. Behind the sentinels, the kettle door was open, and I could peer up the ramp and see the Marines milling about inside.
White light blazed within the kettle. Most of the men inside it wore their body armor, with their helmets off. Then I saw him. A man in a medic’s uniform walked around the kettle distributing plastic cups. The men drank the content out of these cups then crumbled them up.
“This looks promising,” I said.
The medic walked out to the guards and handed them cups. They emptied the little cups like shot glasses, snapping their heads backwards and spilling the liquid into their mouths.
I handed the rifle back to Freeman and knelt beside him. “Give the medicine a few minutes to take,” I said.
We could not use the particle beam pistols because we could not risk damaging the transport. That left us with my two M27s, Freeman’s pistol, and my oversized combat knife. I thought about the knife that Hollywood Harris used in The Battle for Little Man and smirked.
“Get in position,” Ray said. “I’ll wait for your signal.” I nodded and took five men with me. I brought these elders along as scavengers. They would take weapons off the bodies that Ray and I left behind.
We moved just inside the tree line, crouching, stealing behind thick trunks. When we stopped at one tree, the guards were no more than fifty feet away. They sat slumped on their fallen log. Their helmets were off, so I could see that they were not speaking to each other.
I handed an M27 to one of the elders, a young man who would have looked athletic had he not been so skinny. Then I told all five of them to stay behind the tree.
Things move slowly when you begin stealth missions. Nothing ruins stealth like impatience. I might have taken those five men with me, but when the adrenaline starts to flow, beginners become impatient.
Moving slowly, taking long, shallow breaths that made no sound, I came within twenty feet of the guards. They sat on their makeshift bench, their eyes staring straight out without blinking. Their hands hung down by their sides. They were not comatose exactly, but they were strung out. One of them turned and looked in my direction. I was pretty well hidden between some ferns and a tree trunk. He would have seen me if he had his helmet on and might have seen me anyway, but he showed no reaction. His brown eyes seemed unfocused and his jaw hung open.
I pointed my forefinger straight up in the air, then brought it down as if aiming a pistol and pointed at the guards. The report of Freeman’s rifle was no louder than a man spitting, but it scared two large black birds that had settled a few feet away. The first bullet tore through a guard’s head, blowing off his ear and most of his forehead. The man fell off the log. The other guard fell a moment later. Neither man made a sound as they died, but their armor rattled as it struck the ground. The log blocked my view of the bodies, but a puddle of blood spread into view.
The hormone already started to flow through my veins. I looked around the clearing, took a deep breath, and ran to the transport. Hiding behind one of the doors at the base of the ramp, I knelt to think out my next move. The morning sun beat down. I felt heat reflecting off the ship.
The men inside the kettle were not as dazed as the guards we had just killed. I heard them talking softly among themselves. They sounded mellow, not strung out. Had I not needed this transport, I would have tossed a grenade up the ramp. A grenade in the hole would have killed every one of them. Had any tried to escape, Freeman and I would have shot them as they left the ship. But I needed the transport in working condition.
I signaled for Freeman to come. The elders came, too. I did not want them to see this bloodbath. They looked so young. Most of them were in their thirties; but with their wide eyes and scared expressions, they looked young and vulnerable to me just the same.
“Stay here,” I whispered to the man beside me.
“I can help,” he said.
I pointed to the two dead guards. We could see them very clearly f
rom beside the ship. The tops of their heads were blown off. One of the men had fallen in such a way that his face had turned in our direction. Below his eyebrows and to the right of his nose, everything was intact. Everything else was a wad of soft, bloody meat.
The man beside me looked at the bodies and swallowed. He started breathing hard. I knew the expression on his face. He was imagining himself falling just that way. Fortunately, Freeman arrived before the man could panic.
“I’ll take the left. You take the right,” I told Freeman. “We’ll both start in the middle.”
He nodded. He took his pistol. We edged our way to the bottom of the ramp and ran up shooting. There were thirty-six men on this transport, two pilots and a platoon—less the four men we had killed earlier and the two downed guards.
Most of the men did not even have their guns with them. They turned and looked at Freeman and me with stunned expressions as we opened fire. A man in the back jumped for the bench where his M27 lay. I hit him three times as he flew through the air. His head cracked the bench and he fell to the ground. Another man whirled around and leveled his gun on me. I shot him in the chest and the face, then shot the unarmed man who stood beside him.
Some of the Marines hid in the shadows. As I walked past one of the steel girder ribs, someone reached out and grabbed me by the shoulder and neck. I spun and slammed the butt of my M27 into his chest with so much force that the detachable stock broke.
The force of my blow did not hurt the Marine inside his armor, but it knocked him off balance. He fell to the deck, and I shot him in the back as he tried to climb to his feet. By now the hormone ran thick in my blood.
The noise of our guns was deafening inside the kettle and flashes from our muzzles looked like lightning. A Marine leaped at me from behind. I saw him at the last moment and pistol-whipped him. Shards from the broken rifle stock stabbed into the man’s cheek and lips. He screamed in pain. Blood streamed from the wounds. I shot him.
Another man ran toward the ladder that led to the cockpit. He may have wanted to hide. He may have wanted to call for help. I shot him between the shoulder blades, and he dropped to the floor.
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