Win Some, Lose Some

by Mike Resnick

  I walked the area. It must have been one hell of a battle. There was absolutely no place to hide, nothing to duck behind. A night attack shouldn’t have made any difference: if the Patrukans had FTL ships and pulse cannons, they sure as hell had all kinds of vision aids that could turn night into day. I remember once, when I was a kid, standing at the top of Cemetery Ridge and wondering how Pickett ever got his men to charge up the long, barren slope where they were just sitting ducks; I felt the same way looking at the site on Nikita.

  The other thing I wondered about was how surviving this kind of battle could give anyone a taste for charging men with loaded weapons or otherwise risking their lives. They should have been so grateful they lived through it that all they wanted to do was celebrate each day they were still alive.

  Those were my first impressions. Then I began analyzing the site as a soldier. You wouldn’t want to get too close to the dump, because you didn’t know what was in it or how big an explosion it would make. And you didn’t want any survivors picking your team off, so you’d have tried to surround the place so you could shoot any Patrukan who lived through it. The crater was more than a quarter of a mile across, so you’d want your men stationed perhaps a mile and a half across from each other, or given the accuracy of their weapons, maybe even farther. Say, two miles or a bit more.

  I studied the area again. Okay, from a minimum of a one-mile radius, and a distance of more than a quarter mile from each other along the circumference, I saw how they could have gotten separated. If you’re wounded, your first inclination is to retreat to safety, not to stay within range and seek out your teammates. Then, once you felt you were safe, you couldn’t be sure all the enemy were dead, and your wounds were starting to stiffen up or worse, and the last thing you’d do is go looking for the other survivors.

  So each of the five men was essentially on his own until the rescue team arrived, and it hadn’t arrived for another week. Did they have a week’s supply of food and water? If not, could they live off the land? Did they have any medication at all? How badly were they wounded, and how had they managed to survive? I didn’t know, but I had ten days to figure it out.

  Then I reminded myself that that was just the first part, the easier part, of the problem, and that I had a little less than ten days to figure everything out.

  The sun started dropping lower in the sky—the planet had a 19-hour day—and I decided that I’d better make camp while I could still see. I pulled my stationary bubble out of my pack, uttered the code words that activated it, waited a few seconds for it to become a cube seven feet on a side, and tossed my pack into it after removing some rations. I ordered the door to shut, then picked up a few branches, gathered them into a pile, and set fire to them with my laser pistol. I tossed three H-rations into the flames. They’d roll out of the fire when they were properly cooked, and I decided to eat them without any water or beer, as I sure as hell didn’t want to run out of drinkables in seven or eight days and have to partake of the nearby river.

  I looked out across the barren plain, wondering why sentient life hadn’t taken hold here as it had on so many hundreds of similar worlds. Nature always seemed to find a reason to endow one or two species with brainpower, no matter how weird or unlikely they looked. But there had been no reports of any sentience on Nikita. In fact, though the Patrukans mentioned larger animals, the human attack party hadn’t seen anything bigger than the little rodentlike creatures I’d seen, but that made sense: no carnivore is willing to risk getting injured unless the odds are greatly in his favor, because an injured carnivore will usually die of hunger before he heals enough to hunt again. So when they saw the aircar, or even the men themselves, any large predator would have steered clear of them.

  Or did it make sense? There were five badly wounded men scattered around the landscape, hardly in any condition to defend themselves, and yet they went unmolested until the rescue ship arrived. That implied that the Patrukans were wrong and there weren’t any large carnivores, but I couldn’t buy it, because life gets bigger on a low-gravity world, not smaller.

  I decided it could wait for tomorrow. What lived on Nikita didn’t have anything to do with what I’d come here to learn, and I certainly wasn’t going to go looking for large carnivores in the dark.

  My attention was taken by each of the H-rations crying “Done!”, one after the other, and rolling up to my feet, where each in turn popped open.

  I started on the Ersatz Stroganoff, finished it off, then attacked the Mock Parmesan. By the time I was done I was too full to eat the third one, and ordered it to close itself again.

  “I will be safe for 16 Standard hours,” it announced. “After that I will self-destruct so that no one becomes ill from my contents. The self-destruction will be silent and will not adversely effect any men, even if one is holding me at the time.”

  It fell silent and clamped shut.

  I looked up and saw Nikita’s three moons, all of them quite small, racing across the sky. I’d been stationed on Earth for a couple of years, and I’d gotten used to our own large moon making its stately way across the sky. I’d forgotten how fast the smaller moons can travel.

  I dictated the day’s experiences, findings and thoughts into my computer. Night fell while I was doing so, and when I was finished I decided to take a little walk to work off my dinner. I left the fire burning so I wouldn’t stray too far and could easily find my way back. then headed off to my left.

  When I’d gone half a mile I decided I was far enough from my makeshift camp, and began walking in a large circle around the fire. I’d circled it once, and was circling it a second time when it went out, and I figured I’d better go back and get a few more branches to start it up again. I’d covered about half the distance and was passing a thick stand of trees when I heard a hideous alien roar behind me.

  I turned to face whatever it was, but something was already leaping through the air at me. The moons were on the far side of Nikita, and I could barely see its outline. I ducked and turned, and the bulk of its body sent me flying through the air. I landed about six feet away, felt my leg give way and heard the bone snap. I rolled over once and reached for my laser pistol, but it was too quick. I still couldn’t make it out, but it didn’t seem to share that problem. Claws raked deep into my arm and the pistol fell from my hand. Then it was on top of me before I could even reach for my sonic weapon. Teeth raked my face and neck. I reached out, seemed to find a throat, and did my damnedest to hold it at bay, but it was a losing battle. The creature was on top of me, and I could tell it weighed at least as much as I did. It kept pressing forward, and my blood-soaked right arm was starting to go numb. I brought my unbroken leg up hard, hoping it was a male and that it had testicles, but it didn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever.

  I could feel hot breath in my eyes and on my cheek, and I knew I had about four seconds left before it overpowered me—and then, suddenly, it was yelping in pain and fear, and it wasn’t atop me any more.

  I listened for the snarling of something even bigger—something that would turn its attention to me next—but whatever was attacking my attacker was absolutely silent.

  There was a high-pitched screech, and I could hear the creature race off. Then my momentary savior turned to me, just as one of the moons came up over the horizon. Blood was streaming down into my eyes from a gash on my forehead, and the moon wasn’t very big or very bright, but I could see something approaching me, could hear the rustle of its feet across the grass.

  I finally got my good hand on my sonic pistol and held it unsteadily in front of me.

  “Stay back!” I mumbled.

  I fired a shot, but even in my semi-conscious state I could tell it was well off target. I tried to steady my hand and fire again, but then everything went black. My last thought was: What a stupid way to die.

  Except that I didn’t die. I don’t know how long I was unconscious—maybe nine or ten hours, because the sun was high in the sky when I woke up.

&nbs
p; “Don’t try to stand,” said a lilting female voice in perfect, unaccented Terran. “I had to splint your leg.”

  I rubbed some crusted blood from my eyelashes, and noticed that my right arm was heavily bandaged. A damp cloth began dabbing at my eyes, and I was able to focus on the person who was holding it.

  She was a pretty young woman, in her early twenties, certainly under thirty, with a slender body, long red-brown hair, high cheekbones, and light blue, almost colorless, eyes. She looked familiar, but I knew I’d never seen her before.

  “Who are you?” I asked weakly.

  “My name is Rebecca,” she said with a smile. “And you are Gregory Donovan.”

  “I thought I left my ID in my bubble.”

  “You did.”

  “Then you opened it,” I said, frowning. “It’s only supposed to open to my voice command.”

  “I haven’t opened it,” she said. “Now try to rest.”

  I was about to argue with her, for she was obviously lying, but suddenly all my energy vanished and I lost consciousness again.

  It was very late afternoon when I awoke the next time. Rebecca was sitting on the ground, staring at me. I got to take another look at her, and decided that she was more than pretty—she was gorgeous. I couldn’t find a single feature I’d improve.

  She was dressed in an immaculate white blouse and khaki slacks that fit her like a glove, which seemed as unlikely as being cared for by a beautiful Terran-speaking girl on a planet that supposedly had no sentient life forms.

  “Welcome back,” she said. “How do you feel?”

  “Rested,” I said. “What kind of shape am I in?”

  “Your arm is badly infected, your leg is broken in three places, and you have some serious wounds around your face and neck.”

  “What the hell happened?” I asked.

  “You were attacked by a…the closest I can translate it into Terran would be a Nightstalker. It’s the largest carnivore on Nikita.”

  “It can’t be,” I said. “Something bigger drove it off.”

  “Trust me, Gregory,” said Rebecca. “The Nightstalker is Nikita’s largest carnivore.”

  I was too weak to argue, and it didn’t make any difference anyway. Something had driven the Nightstalker off, and I didn’t much care if it was a bigger carnivore or an enraged microbe.

  “How long have you been here, Rebecca?” I asked.

  “With you?” she said. “Since last night.”

  “No, I mean on Nikita.”

  “All my life.”

  I frowned. “My computer didn’t say anything about a human colony here.”

  “There isn’t one.”

  “You mean you were stranded here as a child?” I asked. “Were your parents with you?”

  “My parents lived here,” she said.

  “Are they still alive?” I said. “I’ve got a ship picking me up in nine days…”

  “No, they aren’t alive.”

  “I’m sorry. Well, at least the ship can take you and me off the planet.”

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  I thought about it for a moment. “Not really. I’d like something to drink, though.”

  “All right,” she said. “The river’s just a quarter mile away. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “They say the water’s pretty awful. I’ve got water and some electrolyte mixtures in my bubble.”

  “If you prefer,” she said.

  “See?” I said accusingly. “I knew you’d been in my bubble.”

  “I told you: I haven’t entered it.”

  “If you’re telling the truth, then you won’t be able to get into it now. It’s programmed only to respond to my voice pattern uttering the proper code words.”

  “I will get them and be right back,” she said.

  And sure enough, she was back just a minute or two later carrying three containers. I chose the one that would give me the quickest energy boost and tried not to think about how she got the bubble to let her in.

  “I think you should eat in another hour, Gregory,” she said. “You need strength to fight off the infection. I’ll go through your supplies in a few minutes and see what you have.” She flashed me a smile. “I’m a very good cook. Maybe I can figure out how to combine your H-rations to make them taste like duck in orange sauce.”

  “Why did you say that?” I asked.

  “It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” I replied. “How did you know?”

  “You just look like a duck in orange sauce man to me.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” I demanded. “You know my name, you know my favorite food, you can get a voice-coded bubble to open to you, you know how to splint a leg and patch me up, and you speak without an accent.”

  “Why are you complaining?” she asked. “Would you rather I had left you broken and bleeding on the ground? Did you want me to bring you water that you find all-but-undrinkable? Should I find H-rations that you hate?”

  “No, of course not,” I said. “But you’re not answering my questions.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Here’s another,” I said. “What the hell are you doing here in the first place? It’s a big planet. How did you happen to find me just in time to save my life?”

  “Serendipity,” said Rebecca.

  “Serendipity, hell,” I said. “And while I’m asking questions, what saved me last night?”

  “I did.”

  “You patched me up,” I said. “What saved me? What drove the Nightstalker off?”

  “Is it important?” asked Rebecca. “You’re alive. That’s what matters.”

  “It’s important to me,” I said. “I don’t like being lied to.”

  “I haven’t lied to you, Gregory,” she said. “Now be quiet and let me check the wounds on your arm and neck.”

  She walked over and knelt down next to me. There was a sweet smell about her, almost a perfume, that seemed to suit her exactly. She examined the gashes on my neck, and although they were badly swollen and clearly infected, her cool, sure fingers didn’t hurt at all.

  “It’s still seeping,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’ve treated your dressings with native herbs and leaves that promote healing. I’ll change them after dinner.”

  “What kind of dressing are you using, and where did you get it out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  She pointed to a satchel a few feet away. “I’m always prepared.”

  A wave of dizziness spread over me, and I spent the next couple of minutes trying not to fall over on my side. I don’t remember what happened next, but when my head cleared she was sitting next to me, steadying me with her body. It felt good, and I pretended I was still dizzy so she wouldn’t move away. I think she knew it, but she stayed there anyway.

  “How long before I can walk?” I asked at last.

  “I’ll make you some crutches in three or four days,” she said. “After all, you’ll need some practice if you’re to get to your contact point in time for the ship that’s picking you up.”

  “So I’m stuck here for three days, maybe four,” I said unhappily.

  “I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically. “I’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible, but you’re very weak and your temperature is dangerously high. I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see much of the planet.”

  “What makes you think I’m here to explore Nikita?” I asked sharply.

  “Why else would you have come?” replied Rebecca. “I’ll help you into your bubble tonight. You’ll have to stay there; you’re too weak to move any farther than that.”

  “I know,” I admitted with a sigh. “It’s going to be a boring few days. I wish to hell I’d brought some disks to read.”

  “We can discuss our favorite books,” she offered. “It will make the time pass more pleasantly.”

  I don’t know why I was surprised that she read—I mean, hell, everybody reads—but I was. “Who a
re your favorites?” I asked.

  “Cisco, Jablonski, and Hedburg.”

  “You’re kidding!” I exclaimed. “Those are my favorites too! At least we’ll have something to talk about after dinner.”

  And we did. We talked for hours, and not just about books either. I’d never felt so comfortable with anyone in my life. We talked about hopes and dreams, about regrets, about everything. It was amazing: she seemed to mirror my every thought, my every secret longing. And when we’d fall silent, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, the kind you feel you have to speak into; I was just as happy to look at her as listen to her. She’d grown up on an alien world thousands of light years from Earth, and I knew almost nothing about her: where she lived, what she had done with her life prior to saving mine, even her last name—and yet my last waking thought was that I was already a little bit in love with her.

  I don’t know how long I slept. I woke up when I felt Rebecca applying some salve to the gashes on my cheeks and neck.

  “Don’t move,” she said gently. “I’ll be done in another minute.”

  I held still until she was through, then opened my eyes and realized that we were inside my bubble.

  “I’m surprised you could drag me in here without help,” I said. “I must really have been out of it, not to wake up while you were moving me.”

  “I’m stronger than I look,” she said with a smile.

  “Good,” I said. “Give me a hand up, and let me hobble out into the fresh air.”

  She began reaching out for me, then froze.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” she said. “Don’t try to stand without me; you could damage your splint.”