Chapter 162: Cont (Nemta) (2/2)

Nemta nodded. ”Of course. It could house enemy soldiers.”

”So, without proof of enemy presence in the building, without the building being used for enemy combat operations, you'd attack the building?”

Again, Nemta nodded.

”What about a hospital?” Friend Terry seemed really intent and Nemta had the urge to back away.

”Of course. It could be used to treat enemy wounded,” Nemta said. ”Wouldn't you?”

Friend Terry shook his head. ”No.”

”That's foolishness,” Nemta said. ”The soldiers would be healed and return to the fight.”

”What about wounded soldiers? What do you do to them?” Friend Terry asked.

”They are executed or left to die on the battlefield or else they will return to the fight,” Nemta said.

Friend Terry nodded slowly. ”And you call yourself civilized.” It was said with deep disdain.

”My people are members of the Civilized Species Council,” Nemta answered, feeling a sudden urge to defend himself. ”What would you do if you found a wounded enemy soldier?”

Friend Terry sighed. ”As I have.”

”A Precursor?” Nemta asked.

Friend Terry shook his head. ”No. I've been in a lot of fights. Been in a couple of wars. Signed up about three hundred years to fight the Mar-gite. A couple of times I've captured wounded enemy soldiers,” he made a snorting noise. ”Not the Mar-gite, though. Even a wounded one would kill you.”

Nemta frowned again. ”Were they pacifications or rebelling worlds?”

Friend Terry opened his hand, bringing up the hologram. ”Nope.”

Nemta watched him poke at the hologram. After a moment his eyes widened.

”Hey, 303, come here, buddy,” he said. ”I found something only about sixty miles away.”

The Mantid detached his bladearm from the Orb, sliding it out of the slot, and limped over, his missing leg slowing him down. The mantid flashed a few icons.

”Check it out,” Friend Terry said, tilting the holo. The Mantid moved over and stared at it, then rapidly started flashing icons.

”Yeah. Three wings of aerospace fighter-bombers. Those models had jumpdrives, right?” Friend Terry asked.

The Mantid flashed icons and Friend Terry looked dejected. ”So we could escape, but these guys maybe not?” More flashing icons. ”No, it's not available.”

The Mantid touched Friend Terry's palm and the hologram started flickering rapidly.

”Why would you be able to escape but nobody else?” Nemta asked.

”Hyper drives, not jumpspace. We don't really use jumpdrives any more. But I don't know how hyperspace will effect your people. I need jumpdrives, lower band, where you guys travel. I don't wanna take you into the higher jumpspace bands or into hyperspace and have you dissolve into particles,” he said.

Nemta flattened his ears again at the insinuation that he was somehow inferior. ”Anything you can survive, I'm sure we can.”

Friend Terry stared at him for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was low, gravelly, and suddenly menacing. ”You sure about that, champ?”

The green mantid had stepped back.

”I am a trained aerospace pilot with over thirty years experience,” Nemta snapped.

”And I'm trained heavy assault infantry with over three hundred years experience. I've spent more time in combat than you've spent in the military, fuzzy,” Friend Terry, who suddenly didn't look so friendly, said, his voice still low and ugly.

”Just because your people can't finish any wars,” Nemta started, standing up.

The cane struck the metal between the two of them. Terry didn't move, still staring at Nemta, his eyes flat and unreadable. Nemta jumped, turning to see the Hamaroosa ”Mother” staring.

”Both of you stop it. Friend Nemta, you should know that a single blow from Friend Terry's fist can smash through battelsteel armor that the Precursors use,” she snapped. She turned to the human. ”Friend Terry, you need to remember, he has not seen you as we have seen you. He has not seen the wrath and glory of the Mad Arch-Angel TerraSol.”

Friend Terry nodded, a jerky, spastic thing. ”Me and 303 are going to go check out a bombed out airfield. We might find stuff we need.”

The human stood up, the mantid climbing quickly onto his back, his bladearms sinking into the humans back. Friend Terry sneered at Nemta and jogged into the darkness.

”He will be gone for two weeks,” Nemta said, somewhat satisfied that the Terran had left.

”Why?” Mother asked.

”He has to go sixty miles. That will take him five days each way,” Nemta said.

Mother stared at him for a long moment. ”He will be there in under an hour, unwinded, still capable of fighting, probably still angry.”

”Why are you acting like I'm in the wrong. He's the savage,” Nemta said. ”His people haven't even been walking upright for as long as some of our cities have existed.”

Mother shook her head. ”He is a servant of the Mad Arch-Angel TerraSol, blessed be her name.”

Nemta glared at her. ”Stop acting as if you are a cult.”

”Friend Nemta, you have not seen what we have seen,” Mother suddenly said. ”You have not borne witness to the fury and wrath of those such as Friend Terry,” she suddenly changed the subject. ”Did you fight the Precursors?”

Nemta shook his head. ”No.”

”Friend Terry did,” Mother answered. She began moving away, leaning on her cane. She stopped and turned slightly to face Nemta. ”You should be careful in how you treat Friend Terry.”

”I will treat him as that savage treats me,” Nemta answered.

”That is not wise,” Mother said. Before Nemta could form an answer she lifted up one trembling finger. ”If you cannot treat him as a friend, I would advise treating him as something else.”

Nemta frowned. ”What should I treat him as then, Mother?”

”A weapon. An extremely deadly weapon being pointed at you.”

The shadows of the evening wrapped around the lamed Hamaroosa as she moved away with her cane.