The Rats, the Bats and the Ugly trtbav-2

by Eric Flint

  The other rats piled on. The bats clung to the awning and they set off up the ramp to the doors. Ginny was glad that the golf cart had lights.

  She pressed the garage-door remote.

  Nothing happened.

  Belatedly it occurred to her: There was no power. And a golf cart-even a candy-striped one-wasn't going to bust through the doors.

  "What's wrong?" demanded Doc

  "They're electric doors."

  Eamon, O'Niel and Bronstein were already looking. At least they weren't hampered by darkness. "There's a space here between the frame and door. Three mines will do the job, indade!" said Eamon expertly.

  There were voices coming down the passage, as the bats worked hurriedly and Ginny tried to roll the little cart back down the ramp.

  "Heads!" said O'Niel.

  The explosions echoed through the garage, and a sheered bolt whanged through the darkness. Hanging drunkenly, the door was now open. Well, there was a gap, anyway. Too small for a car, but just about possible for a golf cart. Ginny eased forward, and, with one wheel virtually over the edge of the ramp, scraped out into the dark.

  "Careful with my paintwork!" said Nym crossly.

  Outside there was serious gunfire. There was also thick mist. Someone had plainly just triggered one of the trip-mines and piles of Wen Pei's fireworks stock had gone into action.

  There was no need for lights any more, though. Ginny turned straight off the driveway and drove through a flowerbed. It was her flowerbed. She'd drive through them if she liked. She headed away from the gunfire, away from the gates. But Cartup's security had been just behind them in the garage, and would be following. It wasn't the longest head start in the world.

  On the other hand, most of the security staff didn't ever go out for a round of golf. There was some interesting rough, and sand and water features on the route she had planned.

  The golf cart was at least quiet. And the misty morning provided some cover. But she did wish that it wasn't candy striped.

  Behind them, she could hear some of the searchers. And barking. Someone had let the Dobermans loose.

  Ginny couldn't help laughing. The idea was to let the dogs loose if you weren't running around the premises. Some of Cartup's security service were going to get bitten.

  They rode on. Ginny had the advantage of knowing just where she was going: to the pontoon bridge.

  With the little cart firmly parked on the bridge, Ginny got off it and took the chainsaw to the thick polyprop ropes. She cut the downstream two first, studiously ignoring the yelling, the baying of the dogs chasing security guards, shots, and the sound of a motor vehicle getting closer. The pursuit would hear the chainsaw, but there was no help for that. She cut the first upstream rope. The lurch, when it parted, was nearly enough to heave her into the river.

  Then the final rope, and the small raft spiraled free and began drifting gently and silently down the river. Ginny knew that the river wasn't particularly deep or fast, and was rather full of golf balls. She hit the kill-switch on the chainsaw and looked back. She could dimly make out the lights of the vehicle. It must be heading for the bridge.

  A gust of breeze brought the voices to her.

  "She's cut the bridge. You bastards will have to swim across. At least there won't be any dogs on that side."

  And then they drifted out of earshot and out through the pillars that marked the edge of Shaw House land.

  Freedom was sweet, even when they bumped across a rock, and Ginny realized that she had a raft full of non-swimming rats-on a vessel she had no way of steering, heading down the Tiber River toward the distant sea.

  ***

  The good ship Pontoons-and-candy-striped-golf-cart bobbed onward. The breeze stirred the mist. She could feel the early morning sunlight during the thinner patches. Virginia knew that the sun would burn off cloud layer soon enough. It would be another of Harmony and Reason's bright blue-sun days in an hour or so.

  "What's the time?" asked Ginny.

  "07:15:32," replied Bronstein. "And the court is in session from 08:30 this morning."

  "Aye. I didst hear the lieutenant complaining bitterly about it," said Pistol. "Well. When's breakfast?"

  "Begorra," said O'Niel, sitting back. "When we get ashore. Unless it is Friday. If it is, there is bound to be fish for the having in all this weary ocean."

  Well. It was an ocean by bat standards, anyway. And by the standards of a woman who needed to get ashore and find her way to a courthouse. And possibly to feed the rats before they ate her. "Why don't one of you bats fly up and see if you can see where we are." She picked up the chainsaw and pull-started it. "We can spare a plank or two for paddles."

  Eamon launched himself into the air. He came down a few moments later.

  "The city is over yonder," he pointed with a wing-tip. "It is a tedious way yet. But you'll see it soon enough. The mist is breaking up."

  About ten minutes later the mist did clear. It wasn't an encouraging sight. The Tiber was navigable. That had been one of the reasons they'd built the city here. But Virginia had never examined the river with an eye to sailing a raft down it. How was she going to get her transport off it? The river had high berms on either bank. They might have to walk, if they could get ashore. With a sigh, Virginia started paddling. At least, with the mist gone, it wouldn't be quite as easy for river-steamers to run them down. But paddling the raft across two hundred yards of current with a piece of plank was going to be no fun.

  And then she saw the fishing boat. The occupant was rubbing his eyes disbelievingly. She waved at him, and paddled towards him. "Ahoy!" yelled Nym.

  The fisherman picked up a bottle. Looked at it. Looked at them again. And deliberately tossed the bottle overboard.

  ***

  When they'd dried Falstaff off as best as they could, they arranged a tow, and also purchased some fish to feed the rats.

  Eric Flint

  The Rats, the Bats amp; the Ugly

  Chapter 40

  Eric Flint

  The Rats, the Bats amp; the Ugly

  Military Court C, George Bernard Shaw City,

  Judge McCairn presiding.

  "As a captive it is your duty to attempt to escape. Not inflict a cowardly attack while masquerading as prisoners. Not to head further into the scorpiary," said Captain Tesco.

  Chip looked at him long and steadily. "Well?" demanded the TC. "Explain that."

  "Can I ask you a question, Captain?" said Chip.

  "No. I ask the questions. You answer them!" snapped the TC.

  "This is not the Spanish inquisition, Captain," said the judge. "It may be something that the lance corporal requires clarified. You may ask, Lance Corporal."

  "Thank you, Your Honor." Chip turned on the trial counsel. "Do you know just how many soldiers have been trapped and then escaped from behind a Magh' force field, before we did it?"

  "That's an unreasonable and irrelevant question."

  "It seems perfectly reasonable to me," said the judge. "The answer is none, Captain Tesco. If we do not include the lance corporal."

  Chip acknowledged this with a nod. "That's what I was trying to say, sir. During this war there must have been many thousands of soldiers trapped behind the force field when the Magh' advanced. But the only human soldier to escape traveled in what Captain Tesco here says was the wrong direction. Based on the fact that, of the fourteen of us who started, eleven of us got out, I'd say that that makes my direction the right one and his direction the wrong one."

  "But you were not, in fact trying to escape. You didn't expect to escape by going that way," snarled the prosecution relentlessly.

  "No, sir," said Chip, beginning to get irritated. "We expected to get killed. No one had ever escaped, remember. But we weren't prisoners, is the point. I wasn't captured until the very last stage, after which the only real part I took in the fighting was to try and protect a civilian. Although you seem to have forgotten about it, Captain, it was our duty, as you put it, to encounter and
engage the enemy. What you meant was why didn't we commit suicide by taking on the Magh' in head-on encounters where they outnumbered us thousands to one, instead of fighting them from ambush and in hit-and-run attacks? That would have saved you the effort of this trial. Well, sir, we did 'encounter and engage' the enemy. We beat them, Captain Tesco. We beat more Maggots than the whole of your high command ever has. One soldier, one mucking Vat private, one civilian, a cute little monkey and a bunch of rats and bats, thinking creatures that the army uses as cannon fodder, proved that we could do what you couldn't. That's what this joke of trial is all about. You've got to shut this Vat up before the whole lot of you brass get showed up as total incompetents."

  "Have you quite finished?" asked the judge dryly.

  "Yes," said Chip, in a militant tone that said I could go on for another half-an-hour.

  "Well, let me make something clear too, Lance Corporal. No trial I preside over will ever be a joke. The bulk of these charges are enough to make me angry, never mind you. I will make you my personal promise that the JAG will be conducting official enquiries into how these charges got through to trial in the first place. However, the process of the courts must be respected. I will have no more such outbursts, Lance Corporal. The only evidence of substance which remains is that of the depositions of Virginia Shaw. Rape is a serious charge, no matter how incompetently handled. Rape-"

  There was a scream of wood being devoured.

  Chainsaw in hand, Virginia Shaw kicked the now lockless door open and stepped into the crowded courtroom. The sun was behind her, a flight of bats above and the rats running a phalanx of interference around her. She had a dirty-white red-and-brown stained bandana holding back her hair, and a small galago on her shoulder. On the witness stand, the rats had looked amusing. Now, stalking around her, lips rolled back, red-tipped fangs exposed, they looked deadly instead.

  "Rape never happened!" she said, loudly and clearly.

  It was very plain-by the horrified expression on his face-that the trial counsel knew just who had burst into the courtroom. "What is the meaning of this interruption? Sergeant at Arms-"

  His voice was lost in the mechanical yowl, as she gunned the chainsaw. It was remarkably effective as a crowd silencer. Her glasses gleamed through the blue smoke as she spoke. "My name is Virginia Mary Shaw. I am the woman that Chip Connolly is accused of raping. You will hear my testimony. Statements-which are complete forgeries-have been entered in my name, to try to convict an innocent man. I will correct this situation."

  The judge's gavel banging proved ineffectual this time. It took the mechanical scream of the chainsaw again, and Fluff, standing on Virginia's head, roaring in his best sergeant major voice: "ALLAYOU

  SHUDDUP!"

  In the gathering hush the judge said: "I see that the emotional and physical frailty that Drs. Thom and Neubacher attested would make it impossible for you to attend this trial… seems a trifle overstated. It is always preferable to have live testimony before the trier of the fact. I accept that you are a relevant witness to this case, and will allow you to testify. But I must ask you to put that tool aside before you are sworn in. And I am going to order this court cleared."

  Virginia walked toward the front of the court. "Judge, I have been kidnapped and held a prisoner in my own home, by people who have used and abused my name and my votes. People that I believe intended to murder me. I'm only free because of this 'tool' as you put it. I'm not going to put it down. And, although I would like the people in this court to keep quiet enough to hear me, I want every one of them to remain. I want this heard by as many people as possible. Secrecy and isolation enabled them to capture me, and abuse my name. I won't allow that to happen again. If you won't let them stay, and won't listen to me with my chainsaw in my hand, I'll walk out and tell my story to the news people on the courtroom steps."

  "Choose, Bezonian," said Fal cheerfully.

  The judge was plainly unused to this in his own courtroom. On the other hand…

  She was Virginia Shaw. Chip could almost see the cogs turning in his mind. If he insisted on procedure, it wasn't going to do him or the military justice system any kind of good.

  "Can we approach this a little more reasonably, Ms. Shaw? I'll agree that the court should not be cleared. I appreciate that you've obviously been through a lot. But I really can't allow something that can be construed as a weapon in my court."

  Virginia set her chin, mulishly.

  Chip cleared his throat. "Can I suggest something, Judge? Seeing as I am the one on trial and I'd like Ginny to testify."

  The judge nodded. "That seems reasonable. What do you suggest, Lance Corporal?"

  "Would you accept a bodyguard, Ginny? And have your chainsaw back just as soon as you get to that door?"

  She smiled devastatingly at him. "If you're that bodyguard, and you keep the chainsaw."

  He shook his head, even before the judge could speak. "Can't do that properly, Ginny. Besides, I'm manacled. But myself I'd trust Van Klomp and a bunch of his paratroopers. They're my unit," he said proudly.

  She considered it. "If I can have the rats and bats as well, then we have a deal."

  The judge nodded. "Very well. It's irregular, but so are the circumstances. If the lieutenant colonel is willing, of course."

  Van Klomp stood up. "I'd be pleased, no, actually, I'd be honored, sir. Private O'Hara, Corporal Abbas and Sergeant Jacobovitz from the Airborne are here to testify for the defense. Will we do, Ms. Shaw?"

  The trial counsel finally found his tongue. "Objection. Your Honor, this is most irregular! The court should be adjourned. There are no grounds-"

  "Objection overruled," growled the judge. "Your conduct in obtaining those depositions has to have been most irregular, Captain."

  "Uh, they were taken by my assistant trial counsel. I'll certainly be investigating the matter. But I am sure that it is all a perfectly logical and innocent mistake. We had affidavits from a well-respected doctor…"

  "The matter will be investigated by the JAG," said the judge grimly. "Be sure of it, Captain. Now, let us proceed with swearing in the witness."

  ***

  Swearing in proceeded. The paratroopers assumed wary, watchful stances around the witness box. The bats found light-fittings to cling to. The rats took up relaxed positions around the witness box. Something about that relaxation made it clear to everyone that they could become very active, very fast.

  Mike Capra stood up. "Ms. Shaw. Have you at any time made any depositions, any written statements, any prior testimony as to the conduct of the then Private Charles Connolly during the period in question?"

  "I have not," said Ginny, clearly and calmly. "I have, in fact, not ever made such statements. Any depositions you have been shown can only be forgeries. And I'd like to place on record that Charles Connolly behaved toward me like a hero and a gentleman throughout."

  "Thank you, Ms. Shaw. Your Honor, may I move that those depositions and the contents thereof be removed from the roll of evidence, and that the panel be instructed to disregard their contents."

  "You may indeed," said the judge. "However, I further instruct that they should be handed to the military police to be held as evidence."

  "Your Honor, I must protest," said Captain Tesco. "This is clearly a case of Stockholm Syndrome, where she has begun to identify with her captors. She has again fallen under the evil influence of these creatures of her former captor. The earlier depositions were taken with the support, and help, of expert and experienced psychiatric doctors."

  The judge nodded. "That's one possibility. It must of course be tested."

  "And of course the threatening influence of the military animals must be removed," said the Tesco, seeing he was onto a winning line.

  "What psychiatric doctors?" demanded Virginia. "Name them. Name one, and say when they were supposed to have been seeing me?"

  "I'm afraid I cannot remember the names and details," said the trial counsel airily. "However, these will be establi
shed for the court and the people in question subpoenaed."

  "Your Honor," said Mike Capra, "Captain Tesco can hardly make the assertion that Ms. Shaw's earlier testimony was taken with the assistance of these expert psychiatric doctors without him having an inkling of who they were, or when they saw her. I cannot see how any court could be expected to believe that."

  "I was reliably informed that this was the case. By a source very close to the Shaw family," added Tesco, radiating confidence and pride in equal quantities. "And I am not the one being cross-examined, Your Honor."

  Virginia snorted. "Well, tell me who your reliable informant was, then. They don't exist, outside of your imagination."

  Tesco drew himself up and said in a pitying tone: "I'm afraid the information is confidential, and cannot be revealed in an open court. I will happily do so in the judge's chambers. One has to feel very sorry for Ms. Shaw. However, as the historical case of Patricia Hearst shows, with professional help-"

  Capra smiled nastily. "Your Honor, since Captain Tesco says that he has no objection to telling you who his source of information was, privately, he could surely have no objection to writing the name down and giving it to you, here and now. Then I will ask my client one short question. I will then place the next step in your hands."

  The judge steepled his fingers and looked thoughtful. "Captain Tesco does have a point that the psychological fitness of a witness to testify must be established and that Stockholm Syndrome is a possibility I cannot discount in this case. However, I cannot see any harm in your request. Write this name on a piece of paper and hand it to me, Captain."

  Tesco bridled. "Your Honor, I must protest against any further questioning of this witness until the psychological evaluation has taken place."

  Capra rose smoothly to the challenge. "Your Honor, this question will have nothing to do with Lance Corporal Connolly, and will relate to the possibility of Ms. Virginia Shaw suffering from Stockholm Syndrome."