March To The Stars

* * *

Roger reined in his civan and slid to the ground, handing the reins to one of the waiting Vashin. He started to turn away, but he caught Dogzard's warning growl just in time, and backhanded the civan as it tried—again—to take a chunk out of his arm.

'It's not time for dinner yet, you beast,' he said. 'And you'd better be glad, or I'd shoot you and have you spitted.'

'They just have to know who the boss is, Your Highness,' Honal said with a gesture of humor.

'That's usually not a problem,' Roger said. 'Where's your position? I take it you're not standing out in the open so they can all watch you checking out their little fort.'

'Up on the ridge,' Rastar said, gesturing over his shoulder. 'We're pretty sure we've been spotted, but we're not making our presence, or numbers, known.'

'Have they sent out a patrol?' Roger asked as he started to climb the hill.

'Two of them,' Honal said with a grunt of laughter.

'And?'

'We captured both groups,' Rastar said. 'We're holding them in a side valley. It looks like the garrison is composed almost entirely of lowland peasants, too. They certainly aren't mountain boys, anyway! They didn't even see our ambush until we'd sprung it, and they gave up almost immediately. The second patrol had ten in it, and we took it with only two Vashin.'

Roger chuckled as he topped out on the ridgeline and increased the magnification on his helmet visor.

'What's so funny?' Rastar asked.

'What you just said is the punchline to a very old human joke. It's in a lot of cultures, but the punchline is always the same: 'It's a trap! There were two of them!' '

'I'd like to hear it sometime,' Honal said. 'You humans have good jokes.'

'Yes, it's surprising how many points of congruence there are between humans and Mardukans,' Roger said. 'More than between us and the Phaenurs, that's for sure! Those people are weird. Of course, humor is one of the qualities that has the hardest time translating across species lines. That's what I meant about points of congruence.'

'We laugh at the same stuff? That's a big thing?' Honal asked.

'Bigger than you can probably guess, yet,' Roger assured him as he peered out across the valley. Then he zoomed his helmet back and removed it so he could run his fingers through his hair.

'Not a problem,' he announced.

'Really?' Honal grunted a laugh. 'If you think this isn't a problem, maybe we have fewer 'points of congruence' than you thought!'

'No, I'm serious,' Roger assured him with a grin.

'Oh, I don't doubt we can take it,' Honal said. 'But we're going to lose a lot of people doing it.'

'No,' Roger said. 'Or, rather, we probably would lose them if the garrison knew we were coming. Or where we're coming from.'

He regarded the fortress for a few more moments, then shook his head.

'Send a messenger back. Ask Captain Pahner to expedite getting a team from Julian's squad up the road. I've got a little project for them.'

* * *

Roger wiped his hands as Julian rode into the encampment. The sun was barely down, but the Vashin had already broken up into squads across the ridgeline, lighting fires against the mountain cold and settling in for the night. The cold-blooded Mardukans found it nearly impossible to move when the temperature dropped below what humans considered sweltering. The humans, on the other hand, including the small guard detachment with Roger, thought the nighttime temperatures were balmy.

'Cold enough for you, Julian?' Roger asked, as the Marine climbed off the civan. With the sunset, the temperatures had dropped to what could be considered a pleasantly warm fall day in Imperial City.

'Just great, Sir,' the sergeant said sourly. 'Except for the saddle sores, that is. I can't believe you made us ride these things!'

'I suspect it's just going to get cooler,' Roger said, looking to the north. 'And as for the saddle sores, I'm afraid I didn't have much choice. We're going to be on a tight timetable, and as the temperature drops, it's going to get even harder to move for the Mardukans.'

'On that, I've got a message for you,' the squad leader said uncomfortably. 'Captain Pahner dropped half the carts and doubled up the turom on the rest. So they're moving better.'

'Good! Will they be here in time?'

'Probably, but they had some problems. They ran into something like a 'mountain atul.' Some of the turom panicked, and one of the carts ran back over ... Despreaux.'

'What?!'

'She's fine! Just a broken arm,' Julian said, raising a hand as Roger shot to his feet and turned towards the picketed civan. 'And the captain asked me to point out that you've got a job here.'

'Yes, but—' Roger began in a semi-frantic tone.

'And Despreaux said for me to tell you that if you come rushing back to see 'your poor hurt girlfriend' you'll have a broken arm, too.'

'Yes, but—'

'And you called me all the way up this frigging road on one of those ass-busting civan,' Julian finished. 'So you can damned well tell me why, Sir.'

Roger thought about that for several moments, then drew a deep breath and turned back around.

'Ah, hell,' he sighed.

'Let's just get on with the job, Sir.' Julian patted him on the shoulder. 'Life's a bitch, and then you die. Right?'

'Right.' Roger sighed again, then gestured into the darkness. 'All right, then. I've got a job for you. And, I have to admit, not one that could wait while I went back to check on Nimashet. Take a look at the target.'

They walked to the crest of the ridge, and Julian jacked up his helmet's light-gathering and zoom.

'Big pocker,' he remarked, gazing at the wall. 'Any idea on the garrison?'

'About two hundred,' Roger said calmly.

'Be a bitch to take by frontal assault, even against swords and arquebuses,' Julian observed. He looked up both flanking ridges, and grimaced. 'Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?'

'You and Gronningen are our high-country experts,' Roger said, with a smile in his voice.

'Sure,' the sergeant grumped. He didn't mention that that position had previously been occupied by Dokkum. The native of the planet Nepal had been an expert at everything involving 'elevation.' Unfortunately, 'had been' was the operative term. He'd died just before Ran Tai.

'This isn't going to be a short movement,' the NCO went on after a moment. The carpeting Mardukan jungle had given way to a more open, deciduous forest, but even that stopped well short of the tops of the ridges. There was a faint track, a trail left by the local equivalent of goats, along the ridgeline, but getting to it would be difficult. The ridge was at least five hundred meters above their present position, and those meters were damned near vertical.

'We'll get the Vashin moving by just before dawn, one way or the other,' Roger said. 'I need you in position by then.'

The Mardukan night was eighteen hours long, which would give the squad at least fifteen hours to effect the move. Julian thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded.

'Can do, Boss.' He shook his head in mock sorrow. 'I need to get less competent, or something.'

Roger chuckled and clapped him on the back.

'Just imagine the stories you'll be able to tell in the NCO club. You'll never have to buy a beer again.'

Julian looked back up at the trackless mountain and nodded.

'Now there's a motivator. Free beer. Free beer. I'll just keep repeating that.'