"That would be bad, bad news."
"Right. Hell, Gordon, just look at how upset you are at not getting in on the fighting, and then think of Ishmael in your position. I don't think Jeri has thought this out as much as I have, especially if she hasn't read my notes yet. She's so enamored with Kyle and being human she thinks every one of you will feel the same way. It's not going to happen like that, though."
"No. Even though you took your time and mentored me during my conversion, I see now how much worse I could have come out. I have a lot to thank you for."
"You don't need to thank me so long as you see now why we couldn't risk you in a fight. Situations like this are just part and parcel of being human, Gordon. Honorable men and women are always being presented with dilemmas where they have to choose a course of action they may not like. The good ones choose correctly. The others indulge in actions they know in their heart are wrong because they're scared other people will think badly of them. It's a self-image sort of thing. Most truly great men never worry about their images; they just do what they think is right."
"Which doesn't mean they're always right, though?"
"Correct. No one is right 100% of the time."
"Crap. You should have been a psychologist."
"No. I'm just your friend, Gordon."
It took some more talk and hand holding, but by the time of the Captain's meeting he was quite reasonable. I kissed him before he left, sort of a mix between sisterly and girly. I certainly wasn't ready for anything else just yet despite our one previous bedroom encounter.
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sam Haley agreed to take the Zeng Wu back to Earth while the Galactic began hunting for Cresperia. Kyle and Jeri asked for permission to go along, which made me happy. I liked those two immensely, and hoped some day to find a man that I could love in the way Jeri loved Kyle. So far it hadn't happened. Juan had been extra, extra nice but that final spark had never ignited a sense of true undying love. Maybe there just hadn't been enough time. Or maybe it wasn't meant to be. I supposed I'd never know.
Before the ships parted company, they meshed the com units and a ceremony was held to honor the dead. No bodies had been recovered, but two rescued marines and a civilian scientist had died afterward from wounds. We were far enough out so that the bodies would never fall back to the planet. They might orbit the sun, or perhaps not.
Since the other ship had lost the most people, General—Captain—Sam Haley conducted the ceremony. His olive brown face was solemn beneath his curly black and gray hair, courtesy of his Afro-American and Italian ancestry.
"...And let us never forget. These brave souls died so that the rest of us might live. May they rest in peace."
And then he gravely read off the name of each of the fallen, as taps played softly in the background, over and over. Tears were running down my face well before it ended. I remembered Juan and all the others I had known, some well and others hardly at all and some I'd never met. In my soul I thanked them, thanked them from the bottom of my heart. They died doing their duty. Even Smackers, as much as he'd been able.
* * * *
After the ceremony I returned to my office. It wasn't long before Jeri came to visit. By the time she was seated and Chief Meadows brought fresh coffee, she was practically in tears.
"What's wrong, Jeri?” God, if she had something to cry about we were all in trouble.
"It's what I did. Or didn't do, I should say. I finished reading your notes just before the service. All the tears I shed weren't just for those who died on Swavely. I was upset over the damage I caused."
"You? What did you do?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
"You know. The Y factor."
"But Jeri, you aren't responsible for that."
"I should have deduced that a Crispy converting to a male would react differently than one taking a female form. Do you realize how many deaths I've caused?"
I thought rapidly for a moment while trying to decide how to answer her. Finally I said, “Jeri, right now Captain Becker and General—damn, I'll remember eventually—Captain Haley are probably sitting in their cabins agonizing over all the men they lost. Going back over their decisions and thinking exactly the same thing you are. How they ‘should have’ anticipated this and that, and how many men and women were killed because they didn't. You acted in light of what you knew at the time, and that's all anyone can do."
She looked at me with tears glimmering in her lashes. “Have you ever had anyone killed because of a bad decision?"
I nodded, remembering that poor fool Smackers. “I led one young man into combat when I knew ahead of time he was unstable. I should have had him pulled from the mission, but I didn't. And because I didn't, he lost his life and probably one or two others were killed because he froze up at a critical time and couldn't fire his weapon."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"Neither does anyone else. It's my mistake and I'll have to live with it for the rest of my life. You couldn't have known what was going to happen with Ishmael. I worked with him, too, and so did our psychologists. None of us saw it coming."
"But..."
"Oh, hush, Jeri. You're probably the smartest woman on the ship, so start acting like it."
She gripped her coffee cup with both hands. I saw the skin tighten over her knuckles and turn white. It's a wonder she didn't crush the cup and spill hot coffee all over her lap. Finally she sighed and relaxed. The frown lines on her face disappeared and she managed a little laugh.
"Know what, Cherry?"
"What?"
"I think you're the smartest woman on the ship."
She was wrong, but I didn't say anything. We sat for a while in a companionable silence until she'd finished her coffee, then she got up to go.
"Thanks, Cherry. You're a good friend."
"So are you. How's Kyle managing?"
"He's in our quarters by himself. That's how he grieves. I know he's seen a lot of combat and this was just another episode, but he's suffering from it. He knew a lot of the marines. When we didn't have much else to do he worked with them, teaching special ops techniques he'd learned from experience, rather than the book.” She glanced at her watch. “I think he's been alone long enough by now, though. I'd better go check on him. If he has a fault, it's taking things he can't help too hard."
"Don't we all,” I sighed.
* * * *
Once we began the hunt for the Crispy home planet, consumables became the critical factor. The one good thing about Swavely was that we were able to eat some of their food, and Captain Bronson had stocked up on some before the shit hit the fan. Still, the Master Chief Petty Officer who ran the materials section calculated we had no more than six weeks left before we had to start for home. We'd return with cupboards bare or so he said, but if I knew anything about CPOs we probably had a two-week margin over the official figure. None of this was announced, in order to prevent the crew from looking toward home rather than ahead, but it was soon fairly common knowledge.
We entered three systems in succession that were essentially worthless to humans. All of them had life-bearing planets, but one thing or another was wrong with them for our purposes, either an atmosphere that was toxic over the long term, or flora and fauna that made nightmares look like kindergarten stories. Then on the fourth one we hit the jackpot, a twin of Earth or close to it, that wasn't already occupied. So close that Captain Becker decided we must take the time to land and find out if it was as good as it looked. If so, we had another whole, pristine planet that could be opened to human settlement.
Of course there'd be the nut cases back home who'd argue that we ought to leave it as is and never so much as tread on a blade of grass, if it had grass, that is. Whatever, those Luddites would have us back in caves if they had their way. They'd much prefer us to be at the bottom of the food chain than the top, and don't ask me why. I don't know and I doubt they do either.
At the very least, the captain knew we all needed to get out and stretch our legs a bit before resuming the hunt for Cresperia, and that planet looked like a damn good place to do it.
The ship landed on a rise that sloped down to a river below, with a series of low, brush-covered hills rolling off into the distance above us. To the left the river curved away and disappeared into a forest of bright growth that looked somewhat like mesquite but was much taller and greener. There were more hills the other way that eventually rose in height until they turned into a mountain range. It was a beautiful vista.
* * * *
I was one of the first ones off the ship after a squad of marines debarked in containment suits and formed a perimeter. I really should have let one of the others do it but I didn't. A department head has some perks and I decided to use one of them.
On any planet where we landed there had to be a quick in vitro lab analysis to see if the local bugs were attracted to our cellular type. What that meant was getting a sample of soil, flora and fauna and mixing it with various types of living human cells and observing them both macroscopically and microscopically.
I was able to declare the place safe three days later. The little microbes and microscopic life wanted nothing to do with us, it appeared. That had been the case on every planet visited so far, even when the amino acids and proteins were mostly the same type as ours.
Captain Becker allowed half the crew at a time to come out and the scientists were put to work in their various specialties, measuring and observing. I began helping Eugene with some specimens, not that he really needed much help but I wanted to stay outside for a while and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine while I had a chance. When Gene debarked I spotted him and stood up and waved. He started toward me and I left the outdoor lab to join him.
He was armed with an automatic pistol strapped to his waist and was wearing his usual cheerful grin.
"Hello, Gene."
"Hi, Cherry. Nice day, huh?
"Yep. Want to take a walk?"
"Sure. Where's the nearest lover's lane? Or is it too soon?"
"One day I'm going to see you when you're not so flippant. Or maybe just take you up on one of your proposals.” I had to admit his attitude did a lot to help ease the pain of Juan's death. He had been serious and properly sympathetic as soon as he'd heard about it, but was soon back to his old self, perhaps knowing that I, as well as everyone else who had lost friends or lovers, needed to get back to normal as soon as possible.
"Good. Surprise me."
"Maybe I will.” I couldn't help returning his grin. His infectious personality tended to rub off on everyone he was around—except maybe General Shelton and Captain Becker. “There's no lovers lane here, though. We're confined to the immediate area."
"Then let's just walk.” He clasped my hand and we wandered around for a while, watching others of the crew out for the same reason as we were. It was very relaxing.
We stopped back by the lab after making a circuit of the camp. Eugene was absorbed with some microscopic life and didn't have much to say. His arm had healed and he had full function.
I spotted Kyle and Jeri and pointed to them. We left the work to Eugene and went to join them. They were armed, as was just about everyone else. The place was probably safe from disease but there were still some pretty big, mean-looking critters wandering around. And the marines kept a perimeter manned at all times.
"Nice place, huh?” Kyle said. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and smiled like a little boy just out of school for the summer. He and Jeri appeared to be their old selves, happy and cheerful. They were holding hands and smiling as if they hadn't a care in the world.
"You bet,” I said, “but I keep expecting to see a monster coming over the hill. This place is too nice to be real.” I squeezed Gene's hand.
He laughed. “No monsters. Just good-looking space girls."
I stuck out my tongue. He grinned at me.
"I talked with Gordon this morning,” Jeri said. “We compared notes on my conversion and his and Ishmael's. I have to agree with you now. There's no way I could have predicted what happened to Ishmael. I don't think you would have caught it either if you hadn't had Lau's example to go on."
"I freely admit it. The way he turned out made me curious and sent me searching for a cause. Do you feel better now?"
"Yes, and I'm ashamed of the way I acted."
"Don't be. As far as I'm concerned anyone who's willing to take responsibility for their actions rates high in my book."
"I'll second that,” Kyle said. “Would that more people did."
The four of us stood together and looked out over the rolling hills that faded into a forest in the far distance. The day was illuminated by a full blue sky. It had rained the previous day and it all looked fresh and clean. It was a peaceful moment, one I thought I would call up at odd times when I wanted something nice to remember.
The only thing missing was another man the caliber of Kyle. I started to make some silly remark on the subject but decided not to, not while I had my fingers entwined with Gene's. I was feeling good again, and the others looked so satisfied with life right then, and the day was so perfect, that I didn't want to take a chance on spoiling it.
I didn't have to. The Snappers did it for us.
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
There was never a question in my mind. They were after the ship, and casualties be damned on either side. Two sleek metallic aircars came zooming toward us from over the hills, traveling so close to the brush-covered terrain that we didn't see them until they were right on top of us. They came to a stop only about 50 yards from the ship. A ramp fell open on both sides of the vehicles and spilled dozens of laser-armed Snappers onto the ground. They weren't the least bit interested in prisoners. Only the fact that most of us were armed gave us any kind of chance.
"Drop!” Kyle shouted, the first person to react.
I did, even before I saw the vehicles come to a halt. As the Snappers charged out of the vehicles on their stubby legs, the four of us were already firing. The popping of our pistols sounded tame, however, compared to the heavy rifles manned by the marines who came to bear on them a few seconds later, mixed with laser beams from both sides. The marines remembered the Snappers with extreme prejudice. The machine guns cut a swath through the first group of aliens but the second wave quickly became tangled up with those of us outside enjoying the air and they couldn't fire on us.
The damned little beasts knew what they were doing. Some of them went for the machine guns as soon as the weapons dropped their troops. A heavy laser beam moved over one of them and burned the marines and the gun to cinders and molten metal.
"Get that laser!” Kyle yelled.
Easier said than done. At the moment we were up to our ears in alien alligators. It was total mayhem. Frankly, if I'd had time to think, to register the whole thing coherently, I'd have probably emulated a certain bastard of a quantum physicist no longer with us, and curled into a fetal ball. The stench of burning flesh and fresh blood and gushing entrails spilling their waste, the bright scarlet sprays of blood mingled with the sounds of popping small arms fire, the roar of the machine guns, loud hums coming from the lasers, the shouting of orders and the screams of the wounded and dying. Added to it was the cacophonous, loud clicking of the Snapper's beaks that was almost as deafening as the machine gun fire. We still hadn't been able to decide if it was from anger or some sort of communication, but there was no time to observe now. It was hell on ... well, not Earth. Hell wherever it was that we were.
About then some of the Snappers started disappearing, and holes started appearing in the ground where they'd been standing. They screamed just before they died, horrible high-pitched sounds that cut off abruptly as they vanished. Some part of my brain registered the fact that somebody, Jeri I assumed, had begun using a Crispy disintegrator. She evidently widened the beam as she got closer to them because entire packs of Snappers st
arted obliterating, and the holes in the ground got bigger. Still, there was a googol of Snappers, I'd swear. They were like Hydra heads: for every one we killed, two more seemed to spring up.
I shot one Snapper that had just burned one of Eugene's lower legs off; the poor man simply had to learn to get out of the way faster, I thought inanely. The alien shrieked and slumped to the ground only to be replaced by another. I shot it in the head, then saw an opening and began firing toward the aircar. My bullets bounced off the canopy as if it were made of steel. It was no match for heavy .50 caliber machine gun slugs, though. The remaining marine gunner punched holes through it and shattered the material but the laser continued to fire.
I saw Kyle running toward it while Gene stood and pumped bullets at it with his rifle, not even bothering to take cover. Kyle ducked and rolled as a Snapper tried to shoot him with a hand laser. He kicked it hard in the head, apparently breaking whatever it had for a neck, and ran on. He jumped up on the body of the car but I had no time to see what else he did. A laser beam seared the air as it sizzled past my head, almost hot enough to set my hair on fire. I killed the alien that missed me then got bumped by another that was running toward the ship. It didn't make it there, though, because Gene gunned it down while I was busy with two more.
Someone inside our ship saw what they were after and closed the airlock. The small people ramp that had been dropped for easy access began rising with a Snapper hanging on the edge of it for a moment before dropping to its death on the point of a biology tech's dissecting knife.
I was already on my second magazine when I saw the deadly heavy laser from the second vehicle moving my way. I was on my knees and rolled to my feet and out of the way just in time. It burned a path in the ground right next to me and moved on, seeking someone else or maybe the ship. I was too busy to look that way. I knew someone had to do something about it, though. So far it had only been used on personnel, but I knew it could burn through the ship's side in seconds if it was turned that way. It made me wonder why they hadn't used it to disable the ship to begin with.
Darrell Bain Page 21
