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 running like a stallion's mane down the leeward side. Hendrick's Skeeter had smashed sideways into a grove of them. The wreck had fallen into what seemed to be shallow water. The rotor blades were nowhere to be seen, and the tail was bent at a right angle.

Cadmann's stomach soured, and something flipped in his mind, skewed dizzyingly...

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.

Cadmann brought his Skeeter down close to the wreckage and played his searchlight beam over the trees and water.

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."

Cadmann felt numb. "Dead or alive, we'll bring him in. We have to salvage the Skeeter. But I don't see any breaks in the cabin wall, and what are they fighting for if there's no more Hendrick? He could be safe."

"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.

Cadmann swooped down once more, giving Carlos time to empty his clip.

"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?"

Cadmann didn't answer.

"So. Give me a moment." Carlos got out of the copilot seat and scrambled aft. Cadmann heard him fumbling with the rescue harness.

"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 cannot wait. Mi coronel, you must give me directions."

"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. Cadmann compensated automatically.

"Okay?" he called.

"Si. I am lowering myself. There are—Cadmann, there are a lot of those things, but I believe you are right. I think they have not penetrated into the Skeeter. Hendrick may be alive in there."

"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! Cadmann, some are on speed but most are not."

Cannibals. It figures. "Here come the tow lines." Cadmann lifted the protective cover and threw the switches.

"Well done. Come to port. More. More. Stop. There. Hold it there."

Cadmann fought to hold the ship steady against the gusty wind off the stream. Hurry up, hurry, you monarchistic son of a bitch—

"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.

Cadmann tugged a grenade from his harness and pulled the pin with his teeth. Nobody does that. Well. I just did. He held it in his left hand and tossed it out the window as far off to the left as he could.

Whump! "Carlos—"

"Done! I am reeling myself up. Go!"

"You know it, brother." Cadmann gunned the engines.

"I saw his face. He's not moving but... but none of it is missing, thank God."

"Good enough."

Cadmann, Jerry, Sylvia, and Mamie sat facing the assembled colonists.

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. Cadmann glanced at Sylvia. She shook her head slightly. Cadmann didn't respond. I'm not the team of carefully selected geniuses who should have seen this. I'm only the guy who has to fix it. Too damn late, Sylvia!

"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. Cadmann indicated the seat next to him and half stood as Zack sat. Sylvia took the podium.

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.