A Season For Slaughter Part 36

-The Red Book, (Release 22.19A)

Chapter 42.

Scout's Honor "Old soldiers never die. Young ones do. "

-SOLOMON SHORT.

A moment later the lights came on. I looked around"Ten-hut!" Siegel, Marano, Lopez, Valada, Nawrocki, and seven other combat-ready veterans snapped to instant attention. By military standards, this lounge was lavish. By the standards of the Bosch, it was... adequate. The twelve soldiers hulking here nearly filled it.

"At ease," I said automatically. I glanced around the room. This was the team I had originally picked for this missionmostly. Reilly, Willig, and Locke were gone; I was going to miss them. A lot. I didn't recognize the new faces, but I recognized the hardened expressions they wore; that was good enough.

Siegel stepped forward proudly and saluted. "Lieutenant Kurt C. Siegel reporting, sir."

"Knock off the sir c.r.a.p-did you say 'Lieutenant?"

"Would you please return my salute, sir?" He was standing ramrod stiff.

"Congratulations on the promotion? Good job, Kurt. But, uh-oh, h.e.l.l." I returned his salute and he relaxed. "-But I'm not your captain anymore. I just resigned from the Army."

The look on his face was almost worth it. "You what-?" The rest of them broke ranks and crowded around us, echoing his incredulity.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm gonna kill that sonofab.i.t.c.h, Dannenfelser-"

"You're in charge of the team now." I clapped Kurt heartily on the shoulder. "I've been relieved of all responsibility-"

"We'll fight it!"

"No, you won't. I've never felt happier. And I'm getting married."

"Married-!" Valada shrieked.

Nawrocki grinned. "Awright!" Lopez planted a big wet kiss on my lips.

"Lopez! You surprise me!"

"You surprise me, you scrawny gringo!"

"But what about us-?" Siegel's proud expression was collapsing in upon itself. I'd spoiled his grand surprise. "We were depending on you!"

"All right, all right," I said. I was starting to feel guilty. Emotionally, they were responding like children who'd just been told that Daddy is divorcing them. "Listen up. I'm now a civilian attached specialist. I'm your official Indian scout."

"Huh? What does that mean?" The others fell silent around him.

"It means, congratulations!" shouted Lopez. "You're finally being paid to think."

"It means I can't give orders," I explained. "Only advice." I looked directly at Siegel as I said it.

He frowned. "That means I outrank you now?"

"That's right," I agreed. "You all do. I'm completely out of the chain of command. And more grateful than you can believe."

"Um." Siegel looked profoundly uncomfortable. "Listen, Captain-I don't feel right about this. You know more about all this stuff than anybody. I mean, if we have to get into it with the worms, I'd really prefer it if you gave the orders."

"Sorry, Lieutenant. I couldn't do that even if I wanted to. And you'd be court-martialed if you let me. Dereliction of duty: Trust me, Kurt. You can handle it.

I wouldn't have recommended you for the promotion if I didn't think you could."

"You recommended me?"

"Yes, I did," I said. "Two months ago, after that business in Marin with the BART."

"Huh? That was nothing."

"I didn't think so," I said. "And it was my opinion that counted." A family of jelly-pigs had taken up residence in the Sausalito station; they were threatening to undermine a whole city block with their burrowing. We couldn't use torches or oil, too many important buildings overhead, and the reproductive habits of jelly-pigs precluded the use of any type of explosives, even cold-bombs. Finally, we sent in prowlers armed with tanks of liquid nitrogen. The idea was Siegel's; his team handled the programming, and later on, the logistics of the operation as well.

Afterward I wrote up bounty recommendations for everybody on the team, but I also turned in a separate report commending Siegel's leadership abilities. I'd written commendations for Willig and Reilly too Siegel shook his head in mild disbelief. "Weld, I guess I should thank you then-"

He offered his hand.

What I wanted to say was, "Don't thank me. You don't know what you've just inherited." But that wouldn't have been fair to him. He was still glowing with enthusiasm. I took his hand and shook it firmly. "C'mere. Let me talk to you." I led him over to u corner of the room.

I turned him away from the others. He looked at me expectantly. "I'll give what help I can, whatever advice I can; but never in front of the others. Whatever you do, whatever you say, you must never look indecisive. Don't be afraid to ask your troops what they think of the situation, but don't ever ask them what they want to dc-do you understand the difference?"

He nodded.

"All right, look-you need to learn this very very fast. You're The Man now. That means all the nasty decisions are yours." I searched his face for understanding.

He didn't blink. He understood exactly what I was saying. "Like Reilly and Willig?"

"Exactly. Like Reilly and Willig."

"You didn't let me go back-"

I stared directly into his eyes. "That's right. I didn't."

"I hated you for that."

"I hated myself. But I'd already lost three lives. I wasn't prepared to make it four.

Here's the thing, Kurt-if I hadn't been there to stop you, if you'd been the lieutenant then, what would would you have done?"

He didn't answer immediately. "I see your point," he admitted. "There was nothing to be done for Reilly or Willig or Locke. You wouldn't have gotten ten feet.

And you would've been risking the lives of the entire team. What were they supposed to do? Leave the door open for you? Let the tenants in? Is that what a lieutenant does? Get killed stupidly? And even if the team was smart enough or disliked you enough to slam the door on you and save their own lives, they'd still be left without leadership. Think about that. Your legacy would have been a wounded team handed to a fresh new lieutenant who has no relationship with them and has to start them all over again from square one. That's bad for him, it's bad for the team."

Siegel looked shaken. "I hadn't realized-"

"No, you didn't." Remembering it, I was starting to get angry again. I had to force myself to let go of my own intensity. "It's all right, Kurt. It wasn't your job to realize.

It was mine." I put my hands on his shoulders and held him firmly at arm's length.

"Listen to me. This job is very different. You're the backbone now. You're the source of continuity. Strength. Direction. You point and they go. That's the job.

Anyone can die. But only the lieutenant can point."

He smiled weakly, shaking his head. "I always thought that the boss was supposed to be the guy in front-"

"No. That's how children think. It's selfish and it's stupid. You're already a hero.

So are they. So... the important thing is simply getting the G.o.dd.a.m.n job done and getting out quickly. Kurt, you're going to have to learn how to delegate responsibility. Even if it means-" I realized what I was about to say, and my throat constricted tightly. It was painful and it was ironic and it was another practical joke that the universe was playing on me. I could feel the tears rising in my eyes. It was not a funny joke. "-Even if it means... like Reilly and Willig. And Locke."

Siegel glanced away for a moment, blinking back his own tears. When he looked back to me, his eyes were dry and he looked like a different man. "That's part of it too, isn't it?" It was a statement, not a question. "Deciding who goes and who stays."

"If you ever have to make that decision, know that I'm standing behind you.

When I recommended you, I was accepting responsibility for the quality of your leadership. I didn't make that recommendation lightly. So when you take your team out there-use them. Use them hard, and use them intelligently."

"I think I understand, sir. I have to learn how to do it without you, don't I?" He put his arms on top of mine, and we held each other's shoulders far a moment.

"You'll do fine, Kurt. I know. Just don't be so bloodthirsty, okay?"

He nodded. "Thank you, sir-I mean, Jim."

"Hey-!" called Lopez from across the room. "Are you two going to play huggy-face all night, or are you going to get your sorry b.u.t.ts over here and help us drink this champagne while there's still some left?"

"Don't overdo it-" I started to say, then shut up. The team wasn't mine anymore.

It was up to Siegel to caution them about keeping fit for tomorrow's operations. He caught me stopping myself and grinned heartily.

"Hey, you dogfaces-" He waded in, laughing. "Don't open any more bottles. We don't want to waste that stuff on a civilian, do we?"

From this perspective, it now seems much more likely that the first Chtorran agency to establish itself an Earth had to have been not the plagues, but the manna plants-the simple cotton-candy fluffb.a.l.l.s.

In fact, the first references to a new species of edible mushroom (that in retrospect can only be manna plants) can be found in science journals dating back to the summer of the great northern California meteor shower. These doc.u.mented references to the manna plant validate this thesis. The manna plant had to be here first to lay the groundwork for everything else to follow.

This establishes that the Cbtorran colonization/infestation had more than ten years to establish itself at the most fundamental level possible. The time period is also long enough to allow for the establishment of beachheads by the many additional levels of the Chtorran ecology that would be needed later.

An additional function of this model is that it also allows us to reconsider our original hypothesis that the stingfly may have been the original agent of transmission for the plagues, because now we can put many of the supporting species in place prior to the advent of the plagues. This model gives the stingfly time to spread and establish itself, plus it also provides a mechanism for the common availability of disease-causing microorganisms.

-The Red Book, (Release 22.19A)

Chapter 43.

A Little Knight Music "How did the fool and his money get together in the first place?"

-SOLOMON SHORT.

What are you can pa.s.s out like an officer.

As it happened, we had to open several more bottles of champagne. First we had to drink a toast to Siegel's promotion. And Lopez's and Valada's too. That was three separate toasts. Lopez made sergeant, Valada was a corporal now. The one good thing about battlefield promotions, you got officers who understood the job.

Then we had to drink to my retirement, my new job as Indian Scout, and my great-grandparent who was a full-blooded Cherokee.

Or was it my great-great-grandparent? Then somebody rembered I had said something about getting married, so of course, we had to toast my impending nuptials, which was accompanied by a number of particularly ribald remarks, followed by a separate toast to the wisdom-or foolishness-of General Lizard Tirelli, for saying yes in the first place. And then a toast to the baby. Babies. We drank several toasts to the babies.

And then we stopped and drank a solemn toast to the memory of those who couldn't be here to share our joy. We shattered the gla.s.ses after that one and had to start over. We started by toasting new gla.s.ses. Then I gave a long and much too maudlin speech about the best combat squad I'd ever known-that required three separate liquid salutes. And then we had to stop a minute while Lopez popped a few more corks. They ricocheted off the ceiling and walls, and champagne spurted everywhere amid much shouting and laughing.

There were several toasts to the worms-and the horrible deaths they were going to suffer. At our hands, of course. Each of the troops stood up to detail his or her plans, and of course, each of those declarations also needed to be honored with a serious libation.

Finally, though, I had to excuse myself. I wanted to leave before the drinking got serious. Besides, we were out of champagne. Lopez was ordering more.

I took advantage of the opportunity and began looking for the stairs- "G.o.d, I hate airships. The turbulence on these things is impossible. That Captain Harbaugh can't fly worth a d.a.m.n. Look at the way this thing is spinning." I picked myself up from the wall and turned to Lopez. "No more for me thanks, I've had enough."

"Drink this." She tried to put a tall gla.s.s of something into my hand.

"Oh, no, no. Very bad to mix your drinks. Would you help me find the door?"

"I insist. General Tirelli will never forgive me if I turn you loose in this state.

Come on, this will ease your hangover."

"I don't have a hangover. Really, I'm fine. I just need to sit down for a month or two."

"Come on, drink up, now. Attaboy." It was easier to drink than argue. Besides, she was holding me by the hair.

"Pfah! Yagh! Yack! That tastes like sheep dip! What are you trying to do, kill me?"

"I'm trying to sober you up- "Same thing."

"-at least enough so that you can pa.s.s out like an officer. Drink some more."

"I'm not an officer. I'm a civilian." I drank some more.

"Oh, why didn't you say so? I'll find you a nice warm gutter."