Matsugae had somehow secured not only a large quantity of a really good wine, but a variety of local spices. The troops had seen him at various times throughout Q’Nkok, talking to restaurant and tavern owners, and when the company started out on its journey, he had immediately established himself as a cross between chief cook and caravan-master.
The result was a smoothly functioning caravan. D’Len Pah’s mahouts had experience of this sort of thing, and Matsugae hadn’t hesitated to pick their brains. It was the mahouts who’d suggested unloading one beast and letting it break trail, for instance, thus lightening the load on the Marines. It was also the mahouts who’d pointed out that it was silly to waste good protein just because it was trying to eat you. And that there was nothing wrong with shooting for the pot.
That last point had nearly caused Pahner to go ballistic. Hunting on the move went against every bit of his training. Modern ground warfare required that troops move through the woods as if they weren’t even there, since anything that could be seen could be killed. That a unit was “made out of mist” was a high compliment, and shooting at everything that moved and looked vaguely edible was noisy anathema to his dearest principles.
But in the end he’d been forced to concede that their situation was . . . unusual. After looking at their consumption rates and how far they’d traveled, he’d agreed—not without one last, severe tussle with his military professionalism—that they needed the supplement. Once he’d conceded the point, however, he’d implemented it with his customary thoroughness, and thereafter a member of the company who was a superior marksman was routinely put up front with the point specifically to look for game.
More often than not, and over Pahner’s fuming protests, Roger could be found in the same area for the same reason. He usually rode the unencumbered
This day, the only thing he’d seen on the route hadn’t been, to him, food game. The crouching damnbeast would have been invisible to the point until she reached attack distance. Given their increased awareness, and the guns pushed to the front of the formation, the point might have survived the encounter. And, then again, maybe not. The question was moot, however, for Roger had shot the beast while the lance corporal was still seventy meters distant.
Now he picked at a bit of the lightly spiced meat and shook his head.
“This was good! The last time you tried it, it was . . . well . . .”
“Rubbery,” Matsugae said with a laugh. “Right?”
“Yes,” O’Casey said. The academic was coming to her own terms with this world. She still resented the heat, the humidity, and the bugs, but they all did that, and at least she no longer had to slip and slide in the mud. Instead, she got to ride on one of the great pack beasts, and she thought she might live, after all. She’d felt bad about being “pampered” for a while, but one of the Marines had finally remarked that O’Casey had never volunteered for this, and she’d decided not to worry about it.
She wiped at her brow and drew a breath. The tent was hot and close, but it kept out the bugs and the
“But this is actually quite nice,” she continued, taking another bite. “It reminds me of a light-tasting beef.” Fortunately, it was also leaner than beef. A heavy meal in this climate would be devastating.
“Emu,” Lieutenant Jasco said, taking another helping of barleyrice and meat. “It tastes a lot like emu.”
“Emu?” Cord repeated. “I don’t know what that is.” The shaman rolled a ball of barleyrice and popped it into his mouth. He had pulled it from the communal bowl, as was his people’s custom. Not for him these bizarre human notions of forks and such!
“Flightless bird,” Roger said offhandedly. He pulled a bit of his portion of damnbeast off his plate and fed it to Dogzard, who’d been patiently waiting by his chair. “Originally from the South American pampas. It’s distributed all over now. Fairly easy to raise.”
“We raised ’em on Larsen,” Jasco said nostalgically. “Almost tastes like home. Now, if you’d just chop up the leftovers and put them in a hotdish, I’d have to marry you,” he told the valet with a grin, and Matsugae laughed with the others as he poured Roger another glass of wine.
“Sorry, Lieutenant. I already had one spouse. Once was enough.”
“How’d you get it so tender?” Kosutic asked. She took a sip of wine and picked up one of the barbecued vegetables. The squashlike plant had been christened yuckini because, unlike zucchini, it had a bitter taste in its uncooked state. However, a combination of one of Matsugae’s marinades and cooking over a slow fire resulted in a surprisingly delectable vegetable course. The cooking, or perhaps the marinade, left the slices with a sugary coating somewhat like a honey glaze.
“Ah,” Matsugae said with another smile. “That’s a chef’s secret.” He put his finger against his nose and smiled again, then, with a slight bow and a spatter of applause, he let himself out of the tent.
“All right,” Pahner said. “I want to make sure everyone is clear on tomorrow’s march. Gulyas wants to have a word.”
“I’ve been talking with Cord and his nephews,” the lieutenant said, swallowing a bite of barleyrice and clearing his throat with a sip of wine. The vintage was fairly heavy for the conditions, almost like a sherry. But wine was wine. “As everyone knows,” he went on, “we’re in Kranolta territory. So why haven’t we been hit?”
“Yeah.” Jasco nodded. “We must have passed right by that group that was waiting to attack Q’Nkok.”
“They couldn’t have stayed in one place for too long,” Cord said. “The strip of flatland along the river is too narrow for good hunting. That’s why The People have never taken it for their own.”
“Apparently,” Gulyas nodded at the shaman, “hunting parties go over there when game is sparse on their side of the river. The Kranolta hunt there also, but only occasionally. For the raiding party to stay there, they had to be broken up.”
“Foraging.” Kosutic nodded tugging at an earlobe. “Of course.”
“So we might have brushed some of them,” Gulyas said. “And, conceivably, they could be on our back trail, catching up fast.”
“Do you rate that as likely?” Pahner asked. He and Gulyas had already discussed this, but he wanted the entire group to hear the whole story.
“No, Sir,” the lieutenant answered. “At least, not quickly. They’d still be waiting for word from the conspirators in the city. Even if a messenger preceded us, they’d have to assemble before taking us on. Even the Kranolta are going to recognize that we’re a serious military threat.”
“However,” Cord said, scratching at the tent floor with his knife, “that was a raiding party outside its traditional territory. They wouldn’t attack unless they had all the warriors necessary to destroy us. Once we enter the home territory of the tribes, they’ll attack at every turn. The deeper we enter, the bolder they will become, and the more they will attack.”
“So,” Pahner said, “we need to begin being extra alert. The tribes don’t hunt the hills we just passed through, but they do hunt the lowlands. Whether there’s a big force on our back trail or not, we now face the probability of regular attacks. And we haven’t the time to teach them the price of an Earthman slain.”
“The troops are going to have a problem with that,” Kosutic admitted. “I’m worried that they’re getting sloppy. We told them to expect regular attacks through the last two weeks in the hills, and no Kranolta materialized: just big nasties. We’ll need more than the Lieutenant’s read on it for them to take it seriously.”
Pahner nodded.
“Get with the chain of command,” he told the lieutenants. “Make sure that they, at least, are aware of the likelihood. We need to make sure the troops are as alert as possible. These aren’t half made recruits. Remind them of that.”
Julian leaned on his rucksack and listened to the quiet of the sleeping camp. The clouds often seemed to break for just a bit after sunset, and tonight was no exception. The smaller moon, Sharma, cast a faint, ruddy light over the scene. Dim as it was, it would have been more than sufficient for his light enhancers, but he’d switched them off. The jungle seemed placid tonight, with hardly any animals stirring. Even the roars and gurgles of the normal night were muted.
