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Chapter 27
SALVAGE
It is much safer to obey than to rule
THOMAS A KEMPIS
Deja vu:
The Avalon horsemane trees were tall and narrow and absolutely vertical: trunks white as paper, with a fringe of dark green ru
Cadma
He was back in Zambia, southwest of the Zambezi River, on chopper recon over broken brushland. Below him were parched earth and brown, stunted vegetation. The year's drought had been harsh on the land, harsh on the people. This year, it was all too easy for the guerrillas to recruit starving tribesmen.
Thermal scan verified that the area was clear of enemy troops. The scans had greater range than the enemy's light antiaircraft projectiles, and a LAP had brought down Sergeant Mguvi's helicopter. Somewhere in the smoking mass of torn metal beneath him was one of the two finest men Colonel Weyland had ever had the honor to command...
That image was strong now, too strong. The rage it engendered was not far behind.
Cadma
Beside him, Carlos cursed in Spanish. His machine pistol spat crimson streams of tracers into the darkness. The streams chewed into the mass of minigrendels as they swarmed around the Skeeter, feuding for a scrap of Hendrick. Little knots of grendels were fighting and eating each other;
Carlos fired spurts at those.
"There must be thousands of them," Carlos said hoarsely.
"Maybe a hundred, maybe two. Save your bullets. This is like spitting into the ocean."
Carlos's face twisted with loathing. "We can't leave Hendrick like this. We've got to bring him back."
Cadma
"Why are they here if they don't smell meat? There's a breach. There must be."
"Colonel, we can't remain in the area. The intelligence people say there's a hostile force moving in from the northwest. We' re not prepared to hold off an assault..."
An ugly choice to make. The lives of six men were at stake. And it was already too late to do anything for the laconic, steadfast Mguvi.
So Colonel Weyland had left his friend in the singed brush, sealed in a crumpled tomb of steel and plastic. He had left a piece of himself there as well.
Not this time.
Cadma
"Feel better? Then don't waste any more ammo," he said grimly. "Before this is over, we're going to need every last cartridge."
But if it really comes down to counting bullets, we're dead, all of us.
Carlos did seem calmer as he slipped in another clip. "What next?"
"Pick up the wreck and carry it home."
"Can we carry that much mass?"
"I'll sue the socks off somebody's descendants if we can't. It was in the design specs. We've got the power. There are lift rings built into the Skeeters. On top. The hooks have to engage."
"Ah. You mean, amigo—"
"I mean that one of us drops in a harness and clips the lift lines into the rings. Take over?"
"No. No, I do not fly and shoot at the same time, and if we must lose one of us, better it is me. No?"
Cadma
"So. Give me a moment." Carlos got out of the copilot seat and scrambled aft. Cadma
"Done, amigo. Now tell me. Can these creatures leap to the top of a wrecked Skeeter?"
"Dam'fino. Carlos—Carlos, we could wait."
"But Hendrick ca
"Okay. We're supposed to have a harness operator. Isn't one aboard so you have to do it. Take that box there off the wall. Joystick in the center. Moving it up reels in line on your harness. Moving it down reels it out. Hang the machine pistol around your neck, then clip that box to your harness. Lose it and you're dead."
"Done."
"Test the lines. Try reeling in. And out."
There was a sharp whirr. "Si. It works."
"Okay. I'll drop the tow lines as soon as you're on the way down.
There's a lift ring just forward of the rotor base, and another about two thirds of the way aft. Clip the hooks into the rings and reel yourself up. Work fast."
"Fast. You know it. I'm ready. I am stepping out now."
A slight gust swayed the Skeeter. Cadma
"Okay?" he called.
"Si. I am lowering myself. There are—Cadma
"Toss a grenade. Well away from the ship."
"Okay. Here goes."
Five seconds later there was a sharp whump!
"It's working," Carlos called. "They are clustering there. Zip zip zip! Cadma
Ca
"Well done. Come to port. More. More. Stop. There. Hold it there."
Cadma
"The aft line is done. I am moving forward and—" Weyland heard shots. One, two, then automatic fire.
"Carlos! Carlos, come in, Carlos—"
"Madre de Dios—" There were more shots.
Cadma
Whump! "Carlos—"
"Done! I am reeling myself up. Go!"
"You know it, brother." Cadma
"I saw his face. He's not moving but... but none of it is missing, thank God."
"Good enough."
Cadma
The room was silent as Zack spoke.
"We're not going to talk about this behind closed doors. We all need to make decisions. We've been caught with our pants down yet again.
There's no way we could have known—"
Bullshit. Cadma
"How's Hendrick?" Gregory Clifton asked.
"Still in intensive care. He hasn't told us anything. He may lose the leg, the tourniquet was on a long time. Jerry promises a miracle. We'll see.
"This time we had more warning. Nobody's dead yet. Twenty-twenty hindsight is better than none." Zack hesitated and gripped the podium as if searching for strength that wasn't there. Then he straightened decisively. "You've all heard rumors. Samlon are baby grendels, and they're changing. We're in trouble. Sylvia and Jerry will try to tell us just how much trouble. Sylvia, take over."
Zack left the podium and came down to the front row. Cadma
Jerry inserted a video cube into the viewer and the image of a samlon floated in the air in front of the dining hall. Sylvia said, "Samlon. Zero to two feet long. No teeth to speak of. Totally aquatic. Good eating."
She seemed to be speaking directly to her husband. Terry seemed calm and attentive. He was holding Justin. The child was asleep, his tiny pink fists balled, clutching at the fabric of his father's shirt.