Part 19 (1/2)
From the first hit, it took only two minutes for the rest of 2nd Platoon to hit the ground. Jared and the rest of his squad watched from the tree line as they fell.
When it was over, Jared turned to the four remaining members of the squad and took stock. All of them seemed to be in varying stages of shock, with Sagan being the most responsive and Wigner the least, although he finally seemed aware of his surroundings. Jared felt sick but was otherwise functioning; he'd spent enough time out of integration that he could function without it. For the moment, at least, he was in charge.
He turned to Sagan. ”We need to move,” he said. ”Into the trees. Away from here.”
”The mission-” Sagan began.
”There is no mission anymore,” Jared said. ”They know we're here. We're going to die if we stay.”
The words seemed to help clear Sagan's head. ”Someone needs to go back,” she said. ”Take the capture pod. Let the CDF know.” She looked directly at him. ”Not you.”
”Not me,” Jared agreed. He knew she said it because she was suspicious of him, but he didn't have time to worry about it. He couldn't go back because he was the only one who was entirely functional. ”You go back,” he suggested to Sagan.
”No,” Sagan said. Flat. Final.
”Seaborg, then,” Jared said. After Sagan, Seaborg was the next most functional; he could tell the CDF what had happened, and tell them to prepare for the worst.
”Seaborg,” Sagan agreed.
”Okay,” Jared said, and turned to Seaborg. ”Come on, Steve. Let's get you in this thing.”
Seaborg wobbled over and began removing foliage from the capture pod to get to the door, moved to open the entry and then stopped.
”What is it?” Jared said.
”How do I open this?” Seaborg said, his voice squeaky from nonuse.
”Use your...f.u.c.k,” Jared said. The capture pod opened via BrainPal.
”Well, this is just f.u.c.king perfect, perfect,” Seaborg said, and slumped angrily next to the pod.
Jared moved to Seaborg, and then stopped and c.o.c.ked his head.
In the distance, something was coming closer, and whatever it was was not worried about sneaking up on them.
”What is it?” Sagan said.
”Someone's coming,” Jared said. ”More than one. The Obin. They've found us.”
TWELVE.
They managed to elude the Obin for half an hour before they were cornered.
The squad would have been better off separating, drawing the pursuing Obin in several directions and opening up the possibility of one or more of its number slipping away at the sacrifice of the others. But they stayed together, compensating for the lack of integration by staying in each other's sight. Jared led the way at first, Sagan taking up the rear to drag along Wigner. Somewhere along the way Jared and Sagan traded roles, Sagan taking them largely north, away from the Obin pursuing them.
A distant whine became louder; Jared looked up through the tree canopy and saw an Obin aircraft pacing the squad and then heading north. Ahead, Sagan skipped to the right and headed east; she'd heard the aircraft as well. A few minutes later a second aircraft appeared and paced the squad again, dropping down to about ten meters above the canopy. There was an immense rattle and branches fell and exploded around them; the Obin had opened fire. Sagan skidded to a stop as huge-caliber slugs blew up dirt directly in front of her. That was that for going east; the squad turned north. The aircraft turned and paced them, offering bullets when they lagged or when they deviated too far to the east or west. The aircraft wasn't giving chase; it was herding them efficiently toward an unknown destination.
That destination appeared ten minutes later when the squad emerged into another, smaller meadow, this one with the Obin who had been in the first aircraft waiting for them. Behind them the second aircraft was preparing to land; behind that the initial group of Obin, who had never been far behind, was now becoming visible through the trees.
Wigner, still not entirely recovered from the mental trauma of being unplugged, pushed away from Jared and raised his Empee, apparently determined not to go out without a fight. He sighted in at the group of Obin waiting for them in the meadow and yanked at the trigger. Nothing happened. To keep the Empee from being used against CDF soldiers by their enemies, the Empee required a BrainPal verification to fire. It got none. Wigner snarled in frustration, and then everything above his eyebrows disappeared as a single shot took off the top of his head. He collapsed; in the distance Jared could see an Obin soldier lowering a weapon.
Jared, Sagan, Harvey and Seaborg came together, drew their combat knives and put their backs to each other, each facing a different direction. Drawing their knives was a futile gesture of defiance; none of them pretended to imagine that the Obin needed to get within an arm's reach to kill them all. Each took some small comfort in knowing they'd die within arm's reach of each other. It wasn't integration, but it was the best they could hope for.
By this time the second aircraft had landed; from inside the craft six Obin emerged, three carrying weapons, two with other equipment, and one empty-handed. The empty-handed one swayed over to the humans in the Obin's peculiarly graceful gait, and stopped a prudent distance away, its back covered by the three weapon-wielding Obin. Its blinking multiple eyes appeared to fix on Sagan, who was closest to it.
”Surrender,” it said, in sibilant but clear English.
Sagan blinked. ”Excuse me?” she said. As far as she knew, the Obin never took prisoners.
”Surrender,” it said again. ”You will die if you do not.”
”You will let us live if we surrender,” Sagan said.
”Yes,” the Obin said.
Jared glanced over to Sagan, who was to his right; he could see her chewing over the offer. The offer looked good to Jared; the Obin might kill them if they surrendered, but they would definitely kill them if they didn't. He didn't offer the opinion to Sagan; he knew she didn't trust him or want to hear his opinion about anything.
”Drop your weapons,” Sagan said, finally. Jared dropped his knife and unslung his Empee; the others did likewise. The Obin also had them remove their packs and belts, leaving only their unitards. A couple of the Obin who had been in the original group pursuing them came over and picked up the weapons and equipment and hauled them back to the airs.h.i.+p. When one walked in front of Harvey, Jared could feel him tense up; Jared suspected Harvey was trying very hard not to kick it.
Their weapons and equipment removed, Jared and the others were made to stand apart from each other while the two Obin bearing equipment waved said equipment over each of them, searching, Jared suspected, for hidden weapons. The two Obin scanned the other three and then came to Jared, only to cut their examination short. One of them offered up a fluty comment to the head Obin in its native language. The head Obin came over to Jared, two armed Obin trailing it.
”You come with us,” it said.
Jared glanced over at Sagan, looking for clues on how she wanted him to play this and getting nothing. ”Where am I going?” Jared asked.
The head Obin turned and trilled something. One of the Obin behind him raised his weapon and shot Steve Seaborg in the leg. Seaborg went down screaming.
The head Obin swiveled its attention back to Jared. ”You come with us,” it said again.
”Jesus f.u.c.k, Dirac!” Seaborg said. ”Go with the f.u.c.king Obin!”
Jared stepped out of line and allowed himself to be escorted to the aircraft.
Sagan watched Jared step out of line and briefly considered lunging and snapping his neck, depriving the Obin and Boutin of their prize and a.s.suring that Dirac wouldn't have the opportunity to do anything stupid. The moment pa.s.sed, and besides, it would have been a long shot anyway. And then they would all almost certainly be dead. As it was now they were still alive.
The head Obin turned its attention to Sagan, whom it recognized as the squad's leader. ”You will stay,” it said, and gamboled off before Sagan could say anything. She stepped forward to address the retreating Obin, but as she did three Obin came forward, brandis.h.i.+ng weapons. Sagan put her hands up and backed away, but the Obin continued forward, motioning to Sagan that she and the rest of the squad needed to move.
She turned to Seaborg, who was still on the ground. ”How's your leg?” she asked.
”The unitard caught most of it,” he said, referring to the uniform's ability to stiffen and absorb some of the impact of a projectile. ”It's not too bad. I'll live.”
”Can you walk?” Sagan asked.
”As long as I'm not required to like it,” Seaborg said.