Analog SFF, October 2010 Read online

  Adowa shook her head. “They also said we should be careful not to cause any violent reaction by the Izkop. Just a rescue and security op in a possibly non-permissive environment.’ Possibly non-permissive, hell. Orbital sensors can't see aliens lying under a layer of dirt and grass, ready to kill us as we hit dirt."

  "What did the damned civilians do to make the Izkop want to wipe out everyone and us in the bargain?” Private Nassar wondered. “The Izkop didn't care how many of them we killed."

  Only Private Burgos answered, her eyes haunted. “We didn't kill enough,” she whispered.

  They fell silent again after that, just trying to keep moving in the wake of the sergeant, who plowed onward as if he himself were a suit of armor with an inexhaustible power supply. Johansen looked backwards at times, fearing to see the shapes of Izkop coming after them, and irrationally hoping that other soldiers would appear to join them. But he saw nothing, though as the march went on under the blazing sun Johansen sometimes imagined others marched with them, seeing the shapes of soldiers he had once known wavering insubstantially until he blinked and shook his head to clear it. The tree line gradually grew closer, resolving into a thin forest which would offer at least a little cover from the Izkop and a little shade from the sun.

  Singh kept them going after they reached the first trees, onward about a hundred meters, before he stumbled to a halt. “Rest. Half an hour."

  The others didn't so much sit down as drop, collapsing in place with expressions of mingled pain and relief. Johansen let himself fall as well, luxuriating in not having to keep moving, but after a few minutes forced himself to struggle up until he sat with his back against a tree. Second in command. You're second in command now. The lieutenant was dead, the other sergeants were dead, and so were the other corporals. For that matter, so was the colonel and everybody else ranking higher than the sergeant. Hell, I'm second in command of the entire relief force now. All eight of us that are left.

  Eight out of a little more than two hundred in the battalion.

  Johansen looked at the six privates who had made it out of the valley with him and Singh. Goldera, short, lean and wiry, lay on his back, staring blankly upward. Adowa, her dark face and hair blending a bit into the shadows beneath the trees, had a jaw slack with fatigue, but her eyes kept roaming the woods, on watch for danger. Archer, one of the worst shots in the unit despite her name, was a bit smaller than Goldera but had clung stubbornly to the platoon's portable long-range comm unit despite its weight and now lay hugging it to her chest with both arms. Nassar sat limply against a tree, but like Adowa his eyes were still alert and searching the woods around them, the buzz-saw light machine gun resting on his lap. Stein, big and solid, lay as if dead, only the movement of his chest revealing that he still lived. Burgos, her eyes open but glazed, seemed to still be looking at the deadly chaos around Amity and unaware of their current surroundings.

  Sergeant Singh had lowered himself to sit, breathing deeply, his eyes hooded in thought as if they were just on some especially difficult training mission and the sergeant had to figure out how to beat a tough scenario.

  As if sensing Johansen's gaze, Singh nodded to him. “Now that we've reached cover we'll rest ten minutes each hour after we get going again."

  News which normally would have been greeted with muttered complaints from the tired privates brought nothing this time, a measure of their utter exhaustion, but Adowa stopped scanning the woods long enough to look at Singh. “Where are we going?"

  Singh jerked his head in the direction they had been traveling since leaving the valley. “Before my armor gave out I spotted a place on the map. A small outpost of some kind along a river. At least one permanent building. We're sure to hit the river if we keep going this way. Then we find that outpost."

  "Water,” Stein mumbled. “River's got water."

  "Yeah. And maybe there's food at that outpost,” Johansen said. They hadn't carried much, just the usual emergency packs. The other rations had been destroyed with the dropships.

  "We hope,” Singh replied. “And maybe some shelter. Depends what the Izkop did to it.” He didn't have to elaborate. Amity had been intact when the dropships launched, but just before the Izkop erupted out of the soil they had blown apart all of the buildings, taking soldiers and dropships with them.

  Nassar breathed out slowly. “Someplace safe, maybe."

  Adowa shook her head. “Safe? How many Izkop got to be looking for us, Sarge? There were thousands back there, and they know we got clear."

  "We haven't seen them following us yet,” Johansen said.

  "We didn't see them in the valley, either, until we did. How much trouble would they have tracking us with eight suits of armor laying dead, pointing this way? Any fool could follow us."

  "Maybe,” Archer murmured, “they couldn't keep up. Sarge moved us a long ways pretty quick."

  This time Nassar shook his head. “You heard the briefings. On open ground, the Izkop are very fast and can maintain their speed over long distances,'” he quoted. “They may not be big like Stein, but they're strong enough. Why did we get this far?"

  Everyone looked at Sergeant Singh, who shrugged. “No idea. Shooting our way out of the valley wasn't a low-profile op, and they nailed everyone else who was trying to get out in other directions."

  "So,” Adowa insisted, “why didn't they run us down?"

  "They didn't want to lose any more of their own?” Goldera asked.

  Nassar snorted. “You saw them swarm everyone down in the valley. No concern with casualties at all. If we hadn't burned out the suits so fast, firing the energy weapons without a break and jumping up one side of those hills and down the other as fast as we could, we'd be back there with everyone else, getting our guts hauled out and danced on. It's a miracle we made it this far."

  Burgos roused enough to glare at Nassar. “I'm not dying before I kill a lot more of them."

  The sergeant eyed her soberly. “Ramada's dead. We need to stay alive."

  "Yeah.” Burgos barely whispered as she closed her eyes again, shuddering slightly, her left hand clasped tightly so the ring on it stood out clearly.

  After a moment of silence, Nassar spoke. “They were waiting for us. How long did they just lay there, under the turf, waiting for us to come down?"

  "Days,” Adowa said. “Crazy bastards. How do you plan for fighting against something that'd lay that kind of ambush? I got to tell you, I'm worried we left someone. Somebody still alive."

  "Us being dead wouldn't keep them alive,” Johansen said.

  Archer sat up wearily, brushing hair from her face with one hand and nodding toward the portable comm unit. “I've heard no signals from anyone else living since we got clear. For a while I kept picking up automatic distress signals from armor back at Amity, reporting occupants killed in action. No wounded needing pickup, just KIAs. But the KIA signals went off, I guess when the Izkop got around to smashing them. I can understand the Izkop pulling the bodies out of the armor, but why go to so much trouble to smash all the equipment on the armor, too, even while the fight was still going on?"

  "I guess we can't ask the civs we were supposed to be rescuing,” Adowa said. “Wonder how long they've all been dead and if they put up any fight?"

  The sergeant shrugged again. “Probably a while and probably not. The civs here were just researchers. Their reports on file didn't pay much attention to Izkop fighting methods."

  Johansen laughed bitterly. “The civ reports barely mentioned that the Izkop had spears. What did the civs call the Izkop? Competitive?"

  "And non-belligerent. I keep getting the feeling they're out there,” Goldera added. “Watching us. Sure wish I still had the scout sensors in my armor."

  "There's a lot of stuff in the armor we'll miss, but good soldiers can fight without it,” Singh said. He focused on Archer again. “Are you sure the comm unit didn't take any damage?"

  Archer smiled slightly and stroked the outside of the comm unit. “Aimee's fine
. Ready to talk when we find someone to talk to. The solar collectors on her shell can keep her charged indefinitely and recharge batteries for any other gear we've got left."

  "Too bad it couldn't recharge the armor,” Goldera grumbled. “They took out the big ship. How the hell did they know how to take out the ship? Primitives, hell."

  "They used the research facility's own protective system,” Johansen said. “The Sara wasn't ready."

  "Nobody was,” Nassar observed. “The Izkop burned out everything taking down the Sara and our dropships and frying a lot of the satellite arrays and blowing up everything in that valley. Why'd the Izkop kill all the civs, anyway?” he asked again.

  "Who cares why?” Burgos had both hands on her rifle. The lightweight slug throwers, emergency weapons usually stowed literally up on the back of the armor, had become their primary means of defense now. “Murdering scum. Their reasons don't matter."

  "Yes, they do,” Singh corrected. “Understanding the enemy is critical. If we don't understand them, we don't know what they might do next.” The sergeant had always worn an old-fashioned watch, not depending on suit systems to keep him aware of the time as most others did. Now he consulted it. “On your feet, everybody. We've got a ways to go."

  They staggered onward, the sergeant always in the lead, Johansen always at the rear to make sure everyone stayed with them. There were plenty of times when he wondered if he would collapse as the too-long day on this planet kept the sun crawling slowly through the sky, beating brutally down on them even through the scattered screen of shade provided by the trees. But if he fell out somebody else might drop and be lost, too. So he kept going.

  The river proved just as impossible to miss as the sergeant had predicted, meandering across their path, perhaps fifty meters wide but apparently shallow all the way across. As everyone drank their fill through filter straws, Singh studied the terrain. “The map showed some ridges on either side of the place we're looking for."

  Johansen looked up and down the stream. “The bluffs beside the river course are just mounds along here. It looks like they're higher upstream."

  "Yeah.” Sergeant Singh gazed up at the sun. “I figure we've maybe two hours of sunlight left."

  "The night vision gear was all built into the armor."

  "Yeah,” Singh repeated. “We don't want to be stumbling around in the dark. Let's get moving, people. We need a place to fort up by nightfall."

  As they moved back into the tree line, Goldera paused to look around.

  "You see anything?” Johansen asked him.

  "Nah. Haven't seen anything but what passes for birds and squirrels here.” Goldera hesitated, scanning the horizon. “Still feels like they're out there, though."

  "Keep an eye out,” Johansen said, then moved alongside Singh long enough to pass on what Goldera had said. Singh only grunted in reply, and Johansen fell back again as the tiny column reached the trees and then turned to move upstream.

  They found it when the sun was only a short ways above the horizon. The bluffs on either side of the river's lowland had risen enough to form a rift between them. The woods dwindled near the edge of the rift, leaving an area almost open along the sides before the land fell away abruptly into bottomland with the river snaking along roughly through the center. Singh and the others wormed forward on their bellies toward one edge of the rift until Singh could raise his field glasses to examine the small cluster of buildings constructed to human standards, while they all lay as concealed as possible by the sparse vegetation.

  After a moment, the sergeant cursed softly and lowered the glasses. “Power focus. Great stuff until the power dies. Anybody got charged batteries?"

  Without rising, Archer held out one hand toward Burgos, who took what she held and passed it to Stein, who handed the batteries to Johansen who gave them to Singh. After the sergeant replaced the batteries in his field glasses, he passed the worn out batteries from them back along the chain until Archer got them and slid them into charging slots on her comm unit.

  Focusing again, Singh stayed motionless for a long time, then finally passed the glasses to Johansen. “What do you think?"

  Johansen focused, trying not to expose himself too much to any watchers. “It looks intact.” The compound was dominated by a low-slung one-story structure that apparently combined living quarters and offices. From here that main building looked substantial, with thick walls of compressed dirt and a heavy roof of reinforced metal with built-in solar cells. The rest of the buildings, including a small livestock shed, were of much simpler construction, just stamped metal set on concrete pads.

  "See any sign of Izkop?"

  "No. No sign now, and no sign they've been there. Maybe once the civs left the Izkop didn't bother with it.” One of the doors to the main building swung idly in the wind. “It looks abandoned . . . or someone wants it to look abandoned."

  Something moved among the buildings and Johansen stiffened as he watched, the others falling into tense silence. As the thing moved fully into sight, Johansen almost laughed with relief. “A cow. There's still a cow alive down there."

  "A cow.” Singh made it a statement, gesturing for the return of the field glasses, then studied the animal. “A cow,” he confirmed, lowering the glasses. “Not one of the local herd beasts. A milk cow, Earth-livestock."

  "Milk?” Adowa did laugh very softly, her face lowered into the dirt to muffle the sound. “Too bad I'm lactose intolerant."

  Singh didn't smile in return. “A milk cow. Abandoned here. It wouldn't have been milked for some time. But it seems content."

  "You know cows, Sarge?” Goldera asked.

  "My family's neighbors had some.” Singh looked at Johansen. “After only a few days, an unmilked cow would be very uncomfortable."

  "Somebody's been milking it?"

  "Yes. Would an Izkop do that? Could an Izkop do that without the cow panicking? Stein, didn't your family have a ranch?"

  "Yeah, Sarge.” Stein's large face creased slowly in thought. “No. If what the briefers told us is right, cows wouldn't like the Izkop, and cows can be damned skittish even with people."

  "Could there still be people down there?” Archer asked.

  "Either there are, or it's another Izkop trap,” Johansen said. “You've still got nothing on the comm unit?"

  "No. If any civs survived, they're staying si-lent."

  Singh looked back at them all. “We go down there, or we go on."

  "Go on? Where?” Nassar wondered.

  "Nothing any better than this, and nothing we can reach with less than another full day's walk, if we could find it."

  Johansen sighed and checked his weapon. “I'm getting tired of walking, and it'll be dark soon. We might as well see what's here."

  Burgos licked her lips, her eyes fever bright. “If there's Izkop, maybe it's just a small force. We can wipe them out."

  Singh pointed one finger at her. “Or there's ten thousand of them within sound of a shot. Nobody fires without my orders."

  "Yeah, Sarge,” Burgos muttered, her expression sullen.

  "You go spindizzy on me and I'll shoot you myself, got it?” Singh kept his eyes on her, hard and demanding.

  Burgos flushed. “I said yes, sergeant."

  Fortunately, the compound was on this side of the river so they didn't have to splash through the water and mud. Tired as they were, the soldiers still moved carefully toward the buildings, only two moving at a time while the others covered them. Once inside the bluffs the flatland around the river was covered with short, round bushes with sparse leaves that caused Stein to mutter “tumbleweeds,” but the area inside the human-built compound had only short grass growing.

  Johansen came up against the main building, his rifle at ready, his back to the wall right next to the open doorway where the door still swung lazily in occasional gusts of wind. Adowa crouched on the other side of the door, raising her weapon questioningly. Johansen shook his head, then looked back to where Singh and the others
were lying in the grass, their weapons aimed at the windows and doors of the building. He pulled out his combat knife, took a deep breath to fight down a wave of fear, then spun around the corner and inside, once again planting his back against the wall with the knife at the ready before him.

  A figure moved, jerking to one side with a gasp of fright. Johansen swung the knife's point that way even as his mind shouted human. “Who are you?” Johansen demanded.

  Instead of replying to his question, the figure rose, resolving into a woman who stared at him in disbelief. “Are you a soldier?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Any Izkop here?"

  "No.” She looked anguished for a moment, then swallowed and steadied. “We haven't seen any here since the recall. We've been unable to contact Amity since then.” Her expression changed. “We heard what sounded like explosions in the distance this morning. In the direction of Amity."

  Johansen just nodded. “We? You're not alone here?"

  "No. There's two other adults and ten children. The others are in the back rooms."

  Finally relaxing, Johansen leaned out the door to wave an all-clear and beckon to the others.

  The other soldiers came on carefully, still dodging forward until each darted inside the doorway. As he waited for them and watched for trouble, Johansen saw that the building's interior consisted of a big main room which stretched all the way across its width and perhaps a third of the way back, where an inside wall showed hallways and doors leading to what must be living quarters and offices. A series of big windows ran along the front and partway down the sides, but only two doors were visible, the main entry and a side door. The tables and chairs inside had been pushed around, and the big flat display on the back wall sat dark and silent. Singh entered last, studying the room somberly.

  The woman had gone to the back and came out again with two other civilians, both men, one young and the other well past middle age. “I'm Ariana Tisrok,” she said. “This is Juni Garios and Scorse Kalinga."