"Then there are the carrion bees," I continued, blithely. The major's eyes had gone a little glassy, but I persisted anyway. "Carrion bees look like bumblebees. They live in the canopy; they feed on other insects mostly, but when there's carrion nearby, they'll swarm. They produce a truly evil-smelling, pungent red syrup that serves the same purpose as honey. You could live on it, if you had to-but personally, I think most people would prefer to die than take a second taste of the stuff.
"Plus-I don't know if these trees have any-but we've also observed flutters of ribbon creatures. They look like pieces of ribbon floating in the air, confetti or streamers, very bright, very colorful and attractive… and very deadly. They'll land on you, wrap themselves around you, and cheerfully suck your blood. They'll obstruct your vision, your air passages, they'll get into every orifice of your body, probing and sucking. There are several forms; there's the garter ribbons; which are too small to hurt you as individuals, they're kind of like leeches, and they only swarm during their mating season; but they can bring down cattle too, so don't underestimate them. Then there are the boas. When they're small, they look like silvery mylar ribbons. The big ones look like telephone ribbons. They're really very pretty the way they reflect light; they look like a fireworks display. But they're awfully tough, almost impossible to kill.
"Anyway, I think those are the critters we most have to worry about." I stopped, turned, and looked back at the trees. "See, it's those silvery-looking leaves that worry me. I think… I think they're waiting for the wind to change." I turned back to Major Bellus. "Don't you dare faint on me again-"
He didn't. But he was damned close, and this time it would have been for real. I grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him close to me. "I don't care where you came from. I don't care what your agenda is. I don't care what you think of me. This isn't Earth anymore. This is Chtorr-and it doesn't care any more than I do. You're either a diner or a dinner. You want to die? I'll leave you here and never look back."
"No, please-" he gasped. He sounded worse than desperate. Pitiful. "I don't want to die." He choked out the first few words, and then the rest came pouring in a torrent of unembarrassed sobs. "Oh, God, please-I don't want to die. Please, I'll do anything. Just get me out of here." The tears were streaming down his face. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do it."
Gotcha.
I studied him for a long moment. "I'm sorry. It's inappropriate for me to be giving you orders, sir."
"Huh?"
"You'll have to resign your commission."
He looked up at me, wild-eyed. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that it's inappropriate for you to surrender authority to me while you remain a commissioned officer. The men will lose respect for you. On the other hand, it's even more inappropriate for you to be in charge of men who know more about the job than you do. You're endangering their lives along with your own. I'm sorry, but if you want me to save you, you'll have to resign your commission."
"I can't do that-"
"Yes, you can. Stand up. Turn and face the cameras. Announce it loud and clear. They'll record you." I added quietly, "And then I'll save your life."
For a moment, he looked confused, then angry. "This is a trick, isn't it?" he accused, but he was still uncertain and afraid.
"Did I tell you about the purple haze?" I asked innocently. "It's not really haze, it's mostly what you get when stingflies swarm. It just looks like a haze. And I should probably mention that some of the creeper vines are capable of releasing a paralyzing gas to help trap prey, for shamblers. And did I mention the-"
He held up a hand. "Please, no more. No more."
I helped him back up to his feet and turned him to face the lead rollagon. "They're recording. Say it."
"I hereby resign my commission," he mumbled.
"Louder," I encouraged. "I do hereby, and of my own free will, resign my commission… " I prompted.
Numbly, he echoed the words. "I do hereby, and of my own free will-"
"Resign my commission in the North American Operations Authority."
"Resign my commission-"
"In the North American Operations Authority." I nudged him hard.
"-in the North American Operations Authority."
"Give the date."
"Today is June third."
"And the year. And your serial number." He did so. He looked at me hopefully.
"You're not through yet." I poked him. "You have to assign acting command."
He turned back to the distant cameras. "I appoint Captain James Edward McCarthy acting commander in my stead… uh, until such time as higher authority either… uh, approves or changes that action." He trailed off.
I faced the cameras. "Witnessed and notarized by Captain James Edward McCarthy. United States Army, Special Forces Warrant Agency, assigned to the North American Operations Authority for the duration."
I turned back to him. He was motionless, staring at the ground in front of him. He stood shamefacedly aware of his disgrace. "Give me your weapon," I said.
He didn't move.
I took a step over and pulled his pistol out of his holster, checked the safety, and jammed it into my belt. He flinched visibly as I did so.
I knew I'd done a terrible thing. This man had dedicated his entire life to his service. It was the sole measure of his identity, and I'd stripped it from him. He was so desperate to live, he'd given up his only reason for survival. Maybe he was a good peacetime commander, maybe he was good at maintaining equipment and organizational discipline, and maybe wartime required a different set of skills-this war did, anyway. Well, maybe he could find counseling somewhere. There were supposed to be some pretty good counseling programs running on the supermachines. I felt bad for him, but I didn't feel bad about what I'd done.
"Can we go now?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, a lot kinder than he expected. "Let's go." I took him by the arm and started walking briskly back toward the tanks.
"Huh-?" He jerked his arm away from me and stared. "What are you doing? What about the carrion bees and the ribbon clerks and the purple haze?"
I shrugged. "If you'd read your briefing book, then you'd have been able to recognize that this particular herd of shamblers is mostly untenanted. The giveaway is the leaf patterns. Those silvery leaves are the way they reflect light and attract the attention of lookee-loos. Lookee-loos are tenants looking for a home. These shamblers must have lost most of their tenants when the area was dusted. They must have gone dormant to survive, and they're just now waking up."
Major Bellus looked flustered and angry and confused. "But what about the gorps?"
"The smell is stale. They were here a week ago, rutting. The shamblers are following their scent trail. You should smell them ripe-they'll blister your eyeballs. I'm not kidding. We got a guy named Willie Rood who tried it. He took off his hood. He's still in the hospital waiting to grow new eyes."
"But-what about the… ?" He shut up, abruptly.
"If you'd read your briefing book, you'd have known that we were never in danger. Had there been a real threat, I wouldn't have followed you out into the open fields." I added thoughtfully, "Not even to stop you."
He was red-faced now. "You son of a bitch. I'm going to bust you for this."