Janissaries

by Pournelle, Jerry

  They landed at dusk, just after the major sun had set but before the distant secondary was up. When the secondary sun fully rose, it would light the planet with a blaze like a thousand full moons, making the night as light as a heavily clouded day on Earth. When they landed, the tricky light— dusk from the sun, rays of dawn from the secondary—made weird images and shadows.

  They offloaded the guns first, then the ammunition nearly a kilometer from their first touchdown spot. Rick was the last to leave. Before he could jump out, the hatch closed and the ship lifted.

  “Stop! I’m still aboard!” he shouted.

  “I know.” The pilot’s voice was impassive. The ship moved half a kilometer and settled to the ground. Rick heard the whine of machinery, but the hatch didn’t open for several minutes. Then the voice said, “Now you can get out.”

  When he jumped to the ground, the ship lifted. Rick watched it rise into the clouds until it was gone. He hadn’t really believed it would leave until then. He felt completely alone.

  “It’s really gone.”

  He fought a moment of terror as he realized the voice had been a woman’s. He turned.

  She was a tiny girl, not very pretty in the half-light. She was dressed in coveralls much like his own. “You’re human,” he said.

  “You don’t sound very sure of that.”

  “I’m not very sure of that.”

  “I’m human. My name is Gwen Tremaine, and I come from Santa Barbara.”

  “Santa Barbara. As in California? On Earth?”

  “Yes.” She tried to laugh, but she didn’t succeed. “Oh, yes, I’m from Earth.”

  “We’d better get over to the others,” Rick said. He moved closer to her and saw tears in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m scared as hell,” she said.

  “So am I. Uh—”

  “I was the pilot’s mistress,” she said. “That’s what you wanted to ask, wasn’t it? I got pregnant and didn’t want an abortion, so he put me out here.” This time she managed a laugh. Rick thought it sounded horrible. “Pretty convenient. I asked him if this was the traditional way for flying-saucer pilots to get rid of excess baggage, but he didn’t answer.”

  “Jesus!” Rick muttered. He led her through the scrub brush—it seemed a lot like the chaparral of the western United States, but there was a strange pungent odor to it—toward the distant lights where Parsons and the guns had been unloaded. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but he couldn’t think of anything. God Almighty, he thought. She must be as alone as anyone has ever been. “Do you know anything about—about why we’re here?”

  “Probably more than you,” she said. She walked beside him, but several steps away, as if repelled by him.

  “If you know more than I do, I’d appreciate the information,” he said.

  “We’ve got plenty of time. Let me get used to the situation, will you? When he had me read up on Tran, he didn’t tell me it was because he was leaving me here.”

  “When did he tell you—”

  “That he was ditching me? About five minutes ago.”

  “That was—” He tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

  “A rotten thing to do?” she asked. “Sure was. You see, I thought I was in love with him.” She walked on for a few steps. “Do I sound like you?” she asked.

  “How?”

  “Scared and trying to be calm about it when what you really want to do is run in circles flapping your arms.”

  “Do I sound that way?” Rick asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I guess I do,” he said.

  * * *

  Parsons had assembled the troops on the hilltop. He seemed as surprised to see Rick as he was to see Gwen. “I thought they’d taken you on to wherever the saucer was going,” Parsons said.

  Rick didn’t like the edge to Parsons’ voice. He didn’t much care for the way Parsons held the M-16 rifle, either. “They didn’t,” he said. “I guess he wanted an escort for Miss Tremaine.” Rick explained who she was.

  “I see. And now what do we do?”

  “There are about a thousand things to do,” Rick said. “When there’s more light, we can go down to that village. The first thing is to start learning the local language. And figure out which side to take in that war we saw. Then—”

  “There’s one thing a bit more urgent,” Parsons said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I think it time we restructure the command,” he said. The rifle swung around until it almost pointed at Rick.

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  “You are not an experienced officer,” Parsons said. “An ROTC boy, with almost no combat experience. Under the circumstances, do you really feel qualified to lead?”

  “As qualified as you—”

  “No. This is my career. For you it was an accident,” Parsons said.

  “So you’re taking over.”

  “Yes.” Parsons shrugged. “If you like, I’ll fight you for it.”

  “Isn’t that a little barbaric?” Rick demanded.

  Parsons smiled broadly. “Of course. We are on a barbarous planet. In fact, that is one major objection to you, Rick. You are unlikely to have the proper instincts for survival here. I have long noticed a regrettable tendency toward softheartedness in you. That was bad enough in Africa. Here it is likely to be fatal.”

  A circle of men had gathered around them. Rick looked at them. “Elliot—”

  “Cap’n, I’m truly sorry. I thought about this a lot when Mr. Parsons first brought it up, back aboard ship. He’s right. You just don’t have the experience.”

  And he sounds really sorry about it, Rick thought. And probably is. One thing was certain. If Elliot and the NCOs accepted Parsons’ takeover, there was nothing Rick could do about it. At best he’d cripple the command. They were all staring at him.

  He had to say something, and quickly, before Parsons decided to shoot and be done with it. “Maybe you’re right. André, you do have more experience than me. All right, you command.” As he said it, he felt a wave of relief. Someone else could do the worrying.

  “Glad you understand,” Parsons said. “Sergeant Elliot, get our perimeter defense set up.”

  “Sir.”

  “And the rest of you clear out,” Parsons said. He waited until the other troops were gone. “Rick, there is another problem. Surely you can understand that you can’t stay with us.”

  “Why not?”

  “You were in command. Some of the men would look to you every time I gave an order. It wouldn’t work,” Parsons said. His voice was low and urgent, almost pleading. “I ought to shoot you out of hand,” he said. “That would be the intelligent thing to do.”

  “Bull crap. The troops wouldn’t stand for it,” Rick said.

  “You see?” Parsons said. “Some of them do admire you. And there can be only one commander.”

  “So you’re sending me off alone.”

  Parsons shrugged. “What else can I do? Look, I don’t want to kill you. You can take your personal weapons—”

  “Damn generous of you,” Rick said.

  “It is generous, and you know it. Also dangerous for me. Fair warning, Rick. I offered to fight you for the command. You refused, which was intelligent. But the next time I see you, I’ll assume you’ve changed your mind. And I’ll kill you, Rick. Make no mistake about that.”

  “You mean that, don’t you, André?”

  “Yes.” He used his foot to indicate a backpack lying near them. “I’ve made you up a kit. A rifle. Two hundred rounds, which is more than your share of the ammunition. First-aid packet. A week’s rations. You may keep your binoculars. You have your pistol, and I’ve included a box of cartridges for it. I haven’t been ungenerous—”

  “Damn you—”

  “Please,” Parsons protested. “Do not make me regret my generosity.” He pointed. “The road is that way. Do not go toward the castle. Go east.”

  “I’m g
oing with him.” Gwen’s voice was tightly controlled.

  Parsons looked startled. Like Rick, he had forgotten that she was listening to them. “Surely you do not mean that,” Parsons said.

  “Surely I do,” she said. She shook her head. “You’re crazy. I’ve listened to both of you for weeks. Between the two of you, I’ll take Galloway.”

  “Why?” Parsons asked.

  “I just will. Or do you intend to keep me here?”

  Parsons frowned deeply. “No, I suppose not. Very well. But get moving. I have a lot to do.”

  “You certainly do,” Gwen said. Her voice was sugary sweet. “And you’re less likely to manage it than you think. Let’s go, Captain Galloway.”

  * * *

  Lower down, near the road, there were trees. They looked like gnarled evergreens, but the leaves were too broad, and like the chaparral they had a strange odor. Rick moved into the trees before he spoke.

  “Are you out of your mind?” he asked.

  “No.” The girl’s voice was strong, almost too loud.

  “You didn’t even act surprised . . .”

  “I wasn’t. I told you, I’ve been listening to both of you for weeks. Before we went up the hill I knew what was going to happen.”

  “You might have warned me—”

  “To what purpose?” she asked. “There wasn’t anything you could have done about it. He’d have beaten you in a fair fight, and you wouldn’t shoot him without warning. Would you?”

  “No. I guess not. So you knew they were going to mutiny. Did the pilot?”

  “Yes. He predicted that you’d go your way and they’d go theirs.”

  “And you decided to come with me. Why?—careful, it’s slippery here—” He put out his hand.

  She moved away from him. “Let’s get something straight,” she said. “I’ve had one lover boy, and I don’t need another.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “No, I guess you weren’t,” she said. “But I did want to make it clear. And maybe that will give you some idea of why you. I get the impression that you’re a little more human than some of those animals back there.”

  “They’re not animals, they’re soldiers. Pretty good ones. Gwen, this is silly, if you’re scared of getting raped, you’d batter stay with Parsons. Not that I’m going to leap at you, but I’m not likely to live very long.”

  “Neither are they.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?” Rick demanded.

  “Nothing.” She scrambled down the slope. “The road’s down here,” she said. “Which way?”

  “Left.”

  “Away from the castle,” she said. “See? At least you’ve got sense enough to walk away from a fight.” She stopped to look intently at his face. “And don’t get your macho image bent out of shape—I’m not calling you a coward.”

  “No, but you hit pretty close to home,” Rick said.

  “How’s that?”

  He told her how he had chosen track instead of football. “And don’t tell me how sensible it was,” he said. “I know it was sensible, but it bothers me.”

  2

  The road was excellent. It reminded Rick of the old Roman roads he’d seen in Europe; cobblestones placed over enough rock fill to prevent settling. From the wear on the stones, the road had been there a long time, centuries at least. Unlike Roman roads, though, this one wound through the low hills and trees. Roman military roads had been unfailingly straight no matter what obstacles were in the way.

  The trees and underbrush were strange, but they didn’t seem particularly alien; no stranger than Africa had been when he first went there. There were no birds—at least he’d seen none—but twice he saw flying squirrels. At least, he thought, they look like the pictures of flying foxes in my old school books. I never saw a real one on Earth.

  Gwen walked beside him, still keeping her distance.

  “You decided to come with me. Do you have any—” Rick cut himself off and lowered his voice. “There’s someone behind us,” he said. They looked back to the last bend but saw nothing. Rick motioned Gwen off the road and into the trees. They took shelter in the underbrush. Rick held the rifle in readiness. Whoever was coming was making no attempt to be silent; footsteps clattered on the cobblestones.

  Corporal Mason came around the bend. He stopped and looked ahead, then very carefully slung his rifle and held out his empty hands. “Cap’n,” he called.

  “In here,” Rick said.

  “Yes, sir. Figured you’d hear me comin’. Just didn’t want to get shot.”

  Rick led Gwen back to the road. He slung his rifle, but made certain the strap on the shoulder-holstered pistol was released. “What brings you here?”

  “About a dozen of us volunteered to come off with you, but Parsons and Elliot wouldn’t let ’em. Elliot said it was all right for one of us, so we cut cards for it, and here I am.”

  “Flattering,” Rick said. And, he thought, just possibly believable. It was also believable that Parsons had sent someone to finish him off. Parsons was a careful man.

  Parsons might do that, but Mason wouldn’t take that job. There were some who might, but not Mason. Rick suddenly realized that he was glad to see the plucky little corporal. At least he had one friend to watch his back in this strange place. “Welcome aboard,” Rick said. “But you might want to explain—”

  Mason spat in the dirt. “Parsons is a Foreign Legion type,” he said. “The Legion uses up men. I’ve known some mercs who put in five with the Legion, and no thanks.”

  “Is Parsons likely to be looking for you as a deserter?” Rick asked.

  “It’s possible,” Mason admitted. “It was Elliot said it was all right to take off, but maybe he didn’t ask Parsons first.”

  “And probably didn’t tell him later,” Rick added. Another complication. “We’d better watch our backs.”

  “More reasons than one,” Mason said. “There might be some others want out of Parsons’ chickenshit outfit.”

  “Maybe we should wait and see,” Gwen said. “But—” she looked thoughtful. “You wouldn’t want too many.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head. “Woman’s intuition—”

  “Bat puckey. You’ve hinted a couple of times that you know things I don’t. Isn’t it time to let me in on the secret?”

  “No. It’s not time.” Gwen was very serious.

  “When will it be?”

  “I don’t know. But I do point out that as long as the men might run away to join you, you’ll be a threat to Parsons.”

  “So I hide from him—”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “Look, you won’t kill him from ambush. But if he decides to kill you, you won’t even know until he’s done it. The only way you’ll be safe from him is if he doesn’t know where you are.”

  It made sense. It didn’t sound very manly, but it made sense. Rick said so.

  “There’s another thing,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “If the Shalnuksi traders learn where you are, they’ll tell Parsons—”

  “That’s what really concerns you, isn’t it?” Rick asked. “You don’t want the Galactics to find you. Why?”

  “Does it matter? You won’t be trading with them. You can’t possibly manage to grow those drugs alone—”

  “Drugs?”

  “I’ll explain later. Rick, you won’t be trading with them. It’s certainly better for us if Parsons can’t find us. All I’m suggesting is that we don’t call attention to ourselves. Get out of this part of the country, and don’t leave traces of where we’ve gone. Doesn’t that make sense?”

  “I suppose—”

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “It’s enough. We don’t even know where we’re going. For that matter, we’ll be out of rations soon enough. I saw what might have been a deer—”

  “It probably was. There were a lot of Earth animals released here.”

  “Damn it, you’re doing it aga
in! What else do you know that might save our lives?”

  She didn’t answer.

  * * *

  They rounded another bend. There was a crossroads marked by a small thatch-roofed shelter whose roof drained into a stone cistern and watering trough. The side road was dirt, heavily rutted with cart tracks and the prints of shod horses, but deserted at the moment.

  Mason inspected the cistern. Leaves floated on top of the water. “We trust this stuff?” he asked.

  “We’ll have to eventually, and we’ll want to start drinking local water while we’re still pumped up with gamma globulins and the other shots we got—but I think we can wait a day or so until we’ve got a permanent base. Got purification tablets?”

  “Yeah. I’ll use them. Hand me your canteen.”

  They filled the canteens while Rick thought about their situation. The main road would have more traffic, but it would also be easier going. Not far down the side road he could see patches of water and mud.

  “Horses comin’,” Mason said. He pointed back the way they came.

  “Off the road,” Rick ordered. He led them into the trees beyond the crossroads.

  There was a click as Mason released the safety on his H&K battle rifle. “They’re slowin’ down,” he said softly.

  “If they don’t want trouble, we don’t,” Rick said. Two horses came into view. One carried an elderly man in yellow robes. There was a blue circle with a stylized thunderbolt across it sewn to the breast of the robe. The other horse was ridden double. The rider in front wore kilts and an iron cap, and carried a short sword slung at his left side. The other was cloaked and hooded. They stopped at the crossroads, and the other robed man swung down easily and led his mount to the watering trough, first pausing to bow to the stone heap.

  The other two dismounted.

  Gwen stared interestedly. “Notice the reverent gesture,” she whispered. “Hermes. Guide of the Dead. He was originally a god of crossroads. Evidently he hasn’t lost that function here.”

  The second rider threw back the hood and removed the cloak. Mason gave a nearly inaudible whistle. “That’s a looker!” he whispered.

  Rick gestured for silence. Mason was right. The girl was young—about twenty, Rick would guess, with long ravenblack hair. Even at this distance her eyes were startlingly blue. She had a classic Scandinavian shape to her face, and the woolen frock she wore would have brought a high price at Magnin’s.