March Upcountry

She glanced at the naked Mardukan and then away.

"Of course, I don't see how it could possibly mistake the gender," she added with a smile.

"I got most of it," Roger said. "I think I'm more attuned with him or something. He also says we'd better get moving or something nasty is going to happen."

"Did he indicate what?" Pahner asked.

"He called it the yaden. No context. I think it's related to night." He turned to the Mardukan and tried the toot's voice control function. "What are the yaden?"

Roger discovered that the software was giving him images in response to some form of subcommunication involving his background, the gestures of the Mardukan, and known words. In cases where it had clear translations, it shut down the direct auditory feed and substituted the "translated" words. But in this case, it obviously had no clear translation, so it was giving ephemeral images of possible translations, and the general outline, although startling, was clear. He almost laughed.

"He says the yaden are vampires."

"Oh," Pahner said blandly.

"He's very emphatic about it, though," Elenora said, nodding in agreement. "Yes, I get that, too, now. Vampires. You're good with this, Roger."

Roger smiled in pleasure at the rare compliment.

"You know I like languages."

"So the scummy thinks we should move out?" Pahner asked, just to keep things straight.

"Yes," Roger said, somewhat coldly. He was begi

"That's going to be tough," Pahner said consideringly. "We've got a pass to cross, then quite a bit of jungle. We'll barely make it up to the top of the ridge before dark."

"He seems to think we ought to be able to make it before dark without too much trouble," Eleanora put in.

"He may be right," Pahner responded. "But if he is, then his village has to be a lot closer than I think he's suggesting."

"Then I suggest that we'd better get moving," Roger said.

"No question there," Pahner agreed. "First we've got to get this tent taken down, though."

"Hang on." Roger pulled his drinking tube down. "Here," he said, gesturing with it to the Mardukan. "Water."

They didn't have that word yet, so he used Standard. To demonstrate, he took a drink out of it and dribbled a few drops onto his hand to show the Mardukan what it was. Cord leaned forward and took a swig off of the tube. He nodded at Roger in thanks, then gestured to leave the tent.

"Yeah," Roger said with a laugh. "I guess we're all on the same sheet of music."

But playing in different keys.

It quickly became apparent to Roger where the disco

"Prince Roger," Cord said, "we must hurry. The yaden will suck us dry if they find us. I'm the only one with a cover cloth." He gestured to his leather cape. "Unless you have those 'tents' for everyone?"

"No," Roger said. He grasped a boulder and pulled himself up onto it. The vantage point gave him a clear view of the company scattered up and down the narrow defile. The tail of the unit was just starting up the narrow, steep canyon while the head was nearing the top. As mountain canyons went, it wasn't much, but it was slowing them as the heavily laden troopers struggled up the ravine, pulling themselves from boulder to boulder. They blended into the background well, but for the flash of solar panels on the rucksacks and the occasional reflection off a weapon's barrel. The parties with the stretchers were in particularly bad straits, wrestling their heavy and cumbersome loads over rocks and around corners. All in all, the company was moving very slowly.

"No, we don't have enough large tents for everyone. But we have other covers, and everyone has a personal bivy tent. How large and fierce are these yaden?"

Cord mulled over a few of the words that obviously weren't quite right.

"They are neither large nor fierce. They are stealthy. They will slip into a camp full of warriors and select one or two. Then they overcome them and suck them dry."

Roger shuddered slightly. He supposed that it could be superstition, but the description was too precise.

"In that case, we're just going to have to post a good guard."

"This valley is thick with them," Cord said, gesturing around. "It is a well-known fact," he finished simply.

"Oh, great." Roger jumped nimbly down off the boulder. "We're in the Valley of the Vampires."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The wind was constant and enervating. It blew through the pass incessantly, fu

Captain Pahner looked down at that canopy and, for the sixth time, reconsidered his decision to stop in the pass itself. Cord hadn't cared one way or the other; he insisted that anything short of returning to his village was a veritable death sentence, and now he sat by a fire as the cold settled in. Pahner didn't blame him a bit; the cold-blooded scummy would be virtually somnolent once the full cold hit.

The Marine scratched his chin for a moment, pondering what they'd so far learned from the native. He was forced to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Roger had had a point about the need to acquire the ability to communicate with the locals as quickly as they could. And the delay for the initial conversation probably hadn't mattered all that much in the end. Not that Pahner intended to say anything of the sort to Roger... or even to O'Casey. There could be only one commander, especially in a situation as extreme as this, and whatever the official table of organization might have said, "Colonel" His Royal Highness Prince Roger wasn't fit to be trusted with the organization of a bottle party in a brewery.

Now that the moment of pure, incandescent rage which had possessed him when the young jackass went right ahead and killed the flar beast had passed, the captain rather regretted his language. Not because he hadn't meant it, and not because it hadn't needed saying—not even, or perhaps especially, because of the potential impact their little tête-à-tête might have upon the future career of one Captain Armand Pahner (assuming the captain in question survived to worry about career moves). No, he regretted it because it had been unprofessional.

On the other hand, it seemed to have finally started making an impression on the sheer arrogance and carelessness which seemed to be two of the prince's more pronounced characteristics. Which was the reason Pahner had no intention of admitting that this time the kid might have had a point. The last thing they needed was for the prince to feel justified in continuing to butt heads with the professional who was his only chance of getting home alive.

Setting that consideration aside, however, it was begi