Two Space War Part 33

His foe is charging with a big cleaver in one hand, and a shield in the other. Just the enemy's bloodshot eyes and yellow, bristle-covered forehead are visible, peering out over the top of the shield.

The front sight is covering the forehead and . . . _____! A blue hole appears amidst the bristles in the yellow forehead. Again the front sight comes up, this time he covers the hole (aim small miss small!), and . . . _____! A second bluish hole appears right next to the first. Vivid red blood begins to trickle out of the two holes and the huge Orak's eyes cross as though trying to look up at the wound. But he keeps lurching forward, cleaver still raised.

Melville has a moment of panic and despair. If ventilating his skull didn't work, what would? He'd heard rumors about an Orak battle drug that gave their elite fighters great strength and endurance, and the ability to sustain horrific wounds. Now here it was, literally staring him in the face with bloodshot eyes. Indeed, the dribbling wounds in his forehead gave new meaning to the term "bloodshot eyes." Such drugs have often been used in warfare. Fielder had actually addressed this possibility in his cla.s.s, quoting the semi-mythical Saint Clint the Thunderer, "People ask, What do you do if the bad guy's on drugs? Shoot 'em! But what if it doesn't work? Shoot 'em some more! More lead, more dead!"

Now the enemy was barely six feet away, staggering forward with a host of other foes following him like the tail on a comet. In a split second Melville would be in range of that huge cleaver. The Orak drops his shield just a little and roars in defiance, exposing his two yellow, upward thrusting tusks. Mouth shot. Front sight. Don't jerk the trigger . . . we will fire no projectile before its time . . . prresss trigger and . . . _____!

Brains explode out the back of the foe's head. He has one last, confused, distracted look on his piggish face, then he falls forward. Melville has to skip sideways to avoid having the cleaver chop into his leg.

Melville stops and takes stock for just a split second as he changes magazines. The other members of the firing line are picking off the remaining close-in enemy. Another volley of grenades explodes in the enemy's midst. The BARs roar. The artillery to their rear thunders.

Keith Kreitman, a veteran of Old Earth's World War II, was once asked to describe pitched close combat in words. "Impossible!" he replied. "Because it is all encompa.s.sing, six dimensional, from the front, the left, the right, ricochets from the back, exploding sh.e.l.ls from above and shaking ground from below. One actually 'feels' the combat in the body.

"It involves blurred vision from sweaty eyes, the acrid choking smell of layers of gunpowder smoke, ear bursting horrific noises, the kinetic nerve vibrations from exploding mortars, hand grenades and sh.e.l.ls, the screams of humans, the cries of the wounded, the piercing whine of ricochets of bullets and shrapnel, hiding behind or stepping over bodies of perhaps someone you know. All at one time.

"No media can ever duplicate it.

"No mere words can ever convey it . . .

"But, once exposed to the heat of it, it welds you into a bonding, not only with friend, but foe, that no one else, no matter how close to you, will ever be able to share."

Yeah, thought Melville, there was a lot of that going around today.

There was a brief respite as the enemy kept staggering back. Melville turned to Petreckski, who had just spoken to the engineer commander and was now standing beside him. "Any thoughts?" he yelled.

"Yes, sir," he shouted into Melville's ear "The engineers say they're ready, and there is another 'Thou shalt not,' in the Bible besides the Ten Commandments. 'Thou shalt not be afraid for the arrow that flieth by night, nor for the pestilence that walketh at noonday.' So let us fear not, and get the h.e.l.l out of here!"

"Volley grenades, and fall back!" Melville shouted, looking back at Broadax to be sure she heard. She smiled, nodded, echoed the command, and the reserve all hurled a grenade.

The reserve, positioned back behind the firing line, was better able to hear and respond to this command. Around Melville the command was echoed, but many members of the firing line were concentrating so hard that they didn't hear the order. These individuals were manhandled back by their comrades, or grabbed by the reserve, and in a matter of seconds the entire line was falling back at a dead run. Melville popped a smoke grenade to cover their retreat, as did Petreckski and a few other leaders.

They raced across the bridge, the medics supporting a few wounded, the BARs bringing up the rear. As they left the bridge, the far end exploded, sending a cloud of wooden shards spinning into the sky. For a brief instant the debris seemed to hang in the sky, and then it came sailing back down. Giving substance to the water drops, and a new meaning to the term "a hard rain."

Melville watched with wonder and horrified admiration as some of the engineers were launched into the air with the explosion. Bits and pieces of them came down with the debris. The rain greatly increased the possibility that fuses might not work, so they didn't take the time or the risk to rig the bridge to be blown from afar. Instead the engineers set off the explosion while some of them were still on the bridge. They'd traded certain death for the absolute certainty that the bridge would be destroyed.

Others may sing of the wine

and the wealth and the mirth,

The portly presence of potentates

goodly in girth;a"

Mine be the dirt and the dross,

the dust and sc.u.m of the earth!

They ran their weary way up the final slope to the Pier with a steady, shuffling gait, the healthy supporting the wounded. Behind them the artillery battery was punishing the enemy as they tried to make their way down the steep ravine, across the rushing stream and back up again. Eventually they'd make it, but by then the fleet would be gone.

As he trotted up the road Melville began to realize that he was wounded in several spots, spots which began to ache now that the battle was over. On the way Melville conducted a head count and, miraculously, all their troops were with them, although most of them were wounded. A close inspection of the monkeys' belaying pins disclosed the great number of hits that had been deflected by their little friends. The secret of the monkeys' ability was now well and truly out of the bag.

At the top of the hill the Stolsh admiral, the high commander of the forces on Ambergris, met Marshall DuuYaan. With tears streaming down his face the old admiral looked down the road and then faced his marshall. "Where is myy rear guaard?" he asked.

The marshall tore off his mangled, blood streaked helmet and tossed it to the ground with one final, sad "clunk." Drawing himself to his full height in his dented, besmirched armor, he replied, "Sire, I aam the rear guaard."

" 'Ere now. Wat about us, damit!" muttered Broadax, "I seem ta recall 'at we was there too!"

"Aye," replied Hans, "an' all the other boys 'at died out there; the great, glorious, G.o.d d.a.m.ned, magnificent b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

And Melville whispered to himself, "Theirs be the music, the colour, the glory, the gold;

Mine be a handful of ashes, a mouthful of mould.

Of the maimed, of the halt and the blind in

the rain and the colda"

"Of these shall my songs be fashioned, my tale be told. Amen."

Then they boarded their ship. The Stolsh had considered destroying the Pier with demolitions charges after the last refugees boarded. Denying this valuable resource to their enemy would have been tactically and strategically wise. But they couldn't bring themselves to destroy an ancient, living creature that had served them well and faithfully across the years. They were as likely to destroy their world, another living creature that had befriended and aided them across the centuries. They would return, and when they did, old friends would be waiting for them.

Fielder had already taken their share of the refugees aboard. Many new hands had flocked to join Fang's crew during their period on Ambergris, and most of them had already been integrated into the crew. Now the first officer took charge of getting the ship under way while Melville saw to their wounded. The captain would be needed to command his ship if the Guldur opposed the evacuation fleet, but for now he must see to his injured shipmates.

Melville insisted that the worst cases be tended to first. Finally it was his turn. Through the dim haze of his pain he saw Lady Elphinstone and smiled. Ah, now for an encouraging word. One medicinal dose of ancient, soothing Sylvan wisdom, coming up . . .

"Thee again?" she said, looking at him with a warm, sad smile that belied her words.

"I think it was George Bernard Shaw who said, 'I want to be thoroughly used up when I die.' "

"That may be sooner than ye think. Hast thou not learned that people die here?"

"Thanks," he replied. Responding to her expression and not her words he returned her smile and forgot his pain for a moment. "I needed an encouraging word. You're a good friend."

"One does what one can. So, can I have thy stuff?"

Chapter the 14th.

Transition: The Rose is within the Thorn

O wad some Power the giftie gie us,

To see oursels as ithers see us!

Robert Burns The honorable Milton Carpetwright didn't make it to the Pier for evacuation. Shutting the curtains and coc.o.o.ning inside his office meant that he and his staff didn't get sufficient warning of the collapse of the defenses. His squad of marine guards did discover the danger, however belatedly, and tried to evacuate him. He dithered, and then he died, taking most of the consulate down with him. Pretending that the outside world doesn't exist proved to be bad policy. Sooner or later the big bad old world will come knocking at your door, or knocking it down, as the case may be.

Only one of his marine guards had managed to fight his way out, and that was the redoubtable Corporal Petrico. Mighty tales were already being told of his blazing pistol craft, with a .45 in each hand, as their dwindling band of marines tried to carry the diplomat to safety. They had fought every step of the way, but the hapless, incompetent consul had been his own undoing in the end.

"Cap'n, we tried ta keep dat pockin' diplermat alife. We did," said the little armorer in tears. He was stretched out in their operating room as Lady Elphinstone tended to his many wounds. "Bud 'e wa.s.s usaless. If'n 'e coulda 'elped jist a lidder bit we mida safed 'im. Bud da pocker d.i.n.kent no one end off a pistul frum da udder. He wa.s.s dedd wate. Dedd wate. It wa.s.s like p.i.s.sin' up a rope efer step a da way. Wit dem mawdikkers c.u.mmin' at us conskantly."

"It's not your fault, Corporal," said Melville kindly. "You did all you could."

"Aye," said Fielder bitterly. "Less time on the golf course and more time on the range. That is the recipe for survival. Any man who doesn't follow it deserves what he gets, and G.o.d d.a.m.n him for every good man he takes down with him."

Melville hated to speak ill of the dead, but in the end that summed it up and all he could do was nod.

Aside from Corporal Petrico, only one other consulate staff member was successfully evacuated from Ambergris. He was that rarest of creatures, a citizen of Old Earth. Cuthbert Asquith XVI had decided to make a foray into two-s.p.a.ce, to see "primitive, exotic worlds." Upon being contacted by the government of Earth, the Westerness foreign ministry was happy to oblige by giving Asquith what seemed to be a safe billet in a sleepy little consulate. So it was that Asquith purged his body of all nanotechnology, reversed some minor gene engineering, and arrived on Ambergris just in time for some of the excitement he thought he was seeking.

He happened to be at the Pier, checking the plans for the consulate's accommodations on board Fang, when the world came unglued. Needless to say, he was eager to go home. He was not enjoying his little adventure, and was attempting to share his unhappiness as he sat at his first dinner in the wardroom.

"I know all about your precious, low-tech worlds! Every citizen of Earth is taught, from the earliest ages, how you people live. Yes, we know all about how you live. You usually get married in June because you take your yearly bath in May and still smell pretty good by June. But your brides still stink, so they carry a bouquet of flowers to hide their body odor."

The members of the wardroom were enjoying his diatribe. It was the best entertainment they'd had since their marine lieutenant bounced the first officer off the bulkhead.

"Your annual bath consists of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house gets to bathe first, in the fresh, clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children."

" 'Ere now!" said Hans in mock indignation. " 'Ave you been looking through our windows again?"

Undetered, Asquith continued. "Last of all is the babies. By then the water is so dirty you people can actually lose someone in it. That's where the saying, 'Don't throw the baby out with the bath water,' comes from."

The mess members' faces were aching from their efforts to avoid open laughter. This was a guest, and it wouldn't be polite to laugh at him, even if he was a total prat.

"Aye," said Hans, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head with a look of mock consternation as he sat at dinner. "'Tis true. We lose more babies 'at way."

"Yes!" said Asquith, oblivious to the derision all around him. "And your houses have thatched roofs, nothing but thick straw piled high, with no wood underneath. That's the only place for animals to get warm in the winter, so all the dogs, and the cats and the mice and bugs live in the roof. When it rains, your roofs get slippery and sometimes the animals slip and fall off the roof. Thus the saying, 'It's raining cats and dogs.' "

"Yeah, it's true," drawled Westminster. "Once, back home when ah was a kid, a big old yeller dawg came skittering off the roof in a hard rain and killed mah little brother. So sad."

Their corporate spirits were high. The blockading Guldur fleet hadn't offered battle. Perhaps in part because of the relieving Sylvan fleet that hung just over the horizon, ready to join in. And in part it was probably the sight of Fang closing in on them, with all her vast array of "laundry" hanging out, that convinced them to exercise the better part of valor. The enemy now owned Ambergris, why worry over a few refugees?

With the boundless boorishness and bad manners of the truly well bred, Asquith continued. "Since there is nothing but straw to stop things from falling into the house, this means that bugs and other droppings can fall through. This is especially a problem in the bedroom, so you use a big, four-poster bed with a sheet hung over the top to keep the bugs off. That's how canopy beds came about."

Petreckski nodded his head, poured himself some wine, and said, "Aye, I hate it when all those bugs fall on you while you're sleeping." The purser was in a contented, cheerful mood. He'd sold the cargo of saltpeter from Pearl at a very good price on Ambergris. Then he had bought a huge a.s.sortment of trade goods at fire sale prices from fleeing Stolsh merchants before leaving Ambergris. These would be the last trade goods to come from that world, or any Stolsh world, for a very long time, and they should bring good prices on Osgil. Truly, war had been profitable for him.

"Aye," added young Lieutenant Archer, getting into the spirit. "Once a cat came right through the roof, tore plumb through the canopy netting over their bed, and onto my ma and pa. You should'a heard the howling and shouting that night."

Asquith used a pencil to take a note on the pad that he always had with him, and then continued. "And your floors are bare dirt. Only the wealthy have anything besides dirt on the floor, that's where we get the saying, 'dirt poor.' "