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"Oh, you bastard," Roger said with another laugh. "I'm going to have to govern these people some day, you know."
"As well they sense the iron hand inside the glove, then, Your Highness," Pahner said. "Until their society is stable and they themselves are educated enough for democracy to take hold, a certain rational degree of fear is a vital necessity."
"I know that, Captain," Roger said sadly. "I don't have to like it."
"As long as you follow it," Pahner said. "The difference between the MacClintock Doctrine and the fall of the ISU was a lack of respect for the ISU and its thinking that it could 'nation-build' on the cheap, which left the cupboard bare when it came up short on credit and couldn't pay cash with its military."
"I'm aware of that, Captain," Roger sighed. "Have you ever noticed me trying to use 'minimal force'?"
The Marine looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I haven't. Point taken."
"I've become more comfortable than I ever wanted to be with calling for a bigger hammer," Roger said. "I don't have to like it, but the past few months have provided all the object lessons anyone could ever want about what happens when you're afraid to use force at need."
He started to say something more, then closed his mouth, and Pahner saw him look across to where Nimashet Despreaux rode her own civan beside the line of ambulances. For just a moment, the prince's eyes were very dark, but then he gave himself a shake and returned his attention to the Bronze Barbarians' commander.
"Since you—and Rastar—seem to have everything thoroughly under control, I'm going to go check on Cord and the other casualties. Ask somebody to bring me a plate, would you?"
* * *
Roger dipped his head under the leather awning and looked across the litter at Pedi.
"How is he?"
Most of the wounded were being transported in the leather-covered turom carts that looked not much different from Conestoga wagons. Roger had spent some time in similar conditions on the march, so he knew what it was like to be bounced and bumped over the poorly maintained roads while regrowing an arm or a hand. Unpleasant didn't begin to describe it. But until they got back to "civilization," and convinced civilization that there was the hard way, and then there was Roger's way, there wasn't a great deal of option.
What option there was, though, had been extended to Cord. His litter was suspended between two turom, which had to be at least marginally better. At least he wasn't being shaken by every bump in the road, although whether or not the side-to-side motion was actually all that superior was probably a matter of opinion. At the moment, however, it was the best Roger could offer his asi.
He had seldom felt so inadequate when he offered someone his "best."
"He still won't wake up," Pedi said softly. "And he's hot; his skin is dry."
"Afternoon, Your Highness," Dobrescu said. The medic climbed down from one of the carts to stand beside the litter and gestured at Cord. "I heard you were checking on the wounded and figured I'd find you here."
"How is he?" Roger repeated.
"He's not coming out of the anesthesia," the medic admitted. "Which isn't good. And as Blondie here noted, he's ru
"He's ..." Roger paused, trying to decide how to put it. "He's sort of a ... warrior monk. Is it possible that he's unconsciously ... ?"
"Using dinshon to increase his body temperature?" Dobrescu finished for him. "Possible. I've seen him use dinshon a couple of times to control his metabolism. And the fever might be whatever metabolic remnant lets him do it reacting to the infection. There's a reason people develop fevers; the higher temperature improves the immune response. So fever, under certain circumstances, might be normal in Mardukans. But he's still in a bad way."
"Is there anything else to be done?" Roger asked. "I hate seeing him like this."
"Well, as far as I know, I'm the expert on Mardukan physiology," the medic said dryly, "and I'm afraid I can't think of a thing. I'm sorry to put it this way, Sir, but he's either going to pull through, or he isn't. I've given him the one antibiotic I know is usable in Mardukans, and we're pumping him with fluids. Other than that, there's not much we can do."
"Got it," Roger said. "I'll get out of your hair. Pedi?"
"Yes, Your Highness?" the Shin said miserably.
"Wearing yourself down caring for him isn't going to bring him back any sooner," the prince said pointedly. "I want you to rotate with those other slaves we 'rescued' and get some rest when you can. I'm going to need you up and ready to deal with the tribes as we're moving. If we get overrun because you're too tired to wrap your tongue around the words to get us through, it's going to kill him deader than dead. Understand?"
"Yes, Your Highness. I'll make sure I'm available. And capable."
"Good," Roger said, then sighed. "This is going to be a long trip."
"What?" Dobrescu said darkly. "On Marduk? Really?"
* * *
"Rastar, we also need intelligence on what we're heading into," Pahner said, after the prince had left. "Pedi has never used this route herself."
"I've talked with the locals," Rastar replied. "The language problem is pretty bad, but I got Macek to use his toot to check the translation for me. According to the locals, the road to the pass is steep and apparently of poor quality. It's maintained for turom carts from here to the pass itself, but past the keep, it's nothing more than a track. I don't think we can use the carts after that. Or, at least not very far after that."
"Well, if your Vashin are rested, head up the road, slowly." The captain shook his head. "I never thought I'd be back to the days when my idea of good intel was some vague descriptions of the road and cavalry a couple of hours out ahead of me."
* * *
Roger's civan balked at what passed for a crossroads. The road through Sran had been steep enough, but just the other side of the town, it went nearly vertical. It was paved with flat stones and had obviously been maintained, but a fresh Mardukan gullywasher had just opened up, and the roadbed had turned instantly into a shallow river of racing brown water laced with yellow foam.
"This is insane, Captain! You know that, right?" Roger practically had to scream over the thunder of the rain and the bellowing of panicky turom. After the caravan had passed, the roadbed would be awash with more than rain.
"It is, indeed, Your Highness!" Pahner shouted back. He'd been in conversation with the Vashin cavalry scout who'd been left at the intersection, but now he turned and crossed the road to look over the far side. There was a sheer drop to the white water fifty meters below. "Unfortunately, it's the only route. If you have any other suggestions, I'd be happy to hear them!"
"How about we click our heels together three times and say 'there's no place like home, there's no place like home'?" Roger suggested, and the captain laughed.
Theres a wheel on the Horns 'o the Morning,
An' a wheel on the edge of the pit,
An' a drop into nothing beneath you,
As straight as a beggar can spit ...
"Kipling again?" Roger said with a lift of an eyebrow.
" 'Screw Guns,' " Pahner informed him.
Roger gri