The proud old farmer looked around, saw a sad kind of agreement in the eyes of folks looking back at him. He nodded before going on. ''What's this United Sentients doing, and what does it cost to join it?''
''They aren't charging a membership fee,'' Kris said, and immediately knew she'd missed the point.
''Everything has a price. We're learning our freedom has a price, and we ain't been paying our dues. Now we'll pay full price tomorrow. What's your old fart asking?''
Kris took a second to scratch her ear. Think. Then she shrugged and gave her usual answer. ''Representatives from a hundred and twenty planets, maybe thirty by now, are meeting at Pitts Hope. I don't know what they'll decide. If you're interested, I suggest you get some reps there to listen up, say a few words. Decide for yourself what you'll give up and hold on to.''
''That may be what we have to do,'' Bobby Joe said.
It was Gunny who stepped forward. ''Ladies, gentlemen, who's going to win tomorrow and who's going to be surrendering isn't something we can figure out tonight. But if we don't get some sleep, it sure ain't gonna help us.''
''Spoken like a true topkick,'' Bobby Joe said, and followed Gunny in heading for someplace to bed down for the night.
''You find your roll, too, if I may say, Your Highness,'' Gunny whispered as his mouth passed close to her ear. ''Tomorrow will come soon enough.''
Kris must have been getting too experienced with times like these. She actually did sleep.
32
Cortez waited until the ever-seeing eye in the sky had passed below his horizon before he formed his troops. He'd woken them before the ship came over but left them in their bedrolls, showing the ship warm bodies just where they belonged.
As the troops made their way out of camp, the dozen stay-behinds began feeding wood into the campfires. They and the busted-ankle detail, along with the hostages, would keep the fires burning. Maybe that Longknife girl wouldn't get any warning that Cortez's little army was on the move until it was too late.
It would be nice to have luck break his way for a change.
But luck and hope couldn't pass for a strategy.
Cortez assigned Major Zhukov command of the reinforced company of Guard Fusiliers from Torun. They'd take the wet road and come out of the swamps at the rear of the ditches. Their sudden appearance would be a major surprise for those hayseeds.
The psalm singers would take a more direct route, but they'd have to keep to cover and spread out. No matter how much Cortez pushed them, he doubted he could have them ready to assault the ditches before the next orbit. No, he'd have to spread out, stay cool in the morning dark, and do his best to be out of sight.
Nobody had ever told Colonel Cortez that soldiering was easy. He doubted he'd have taken the job if they had.
No, he had a tough leadership challenge and, to tell the truth, he was enjoying it. That Longknife brat had been calling the shots for too long. Now he'd name a few tunes and see how she liked dancing to his music.
* * *
Sergeant Bruce found the island he'd picked out for his observation post. It was little more than a tree and a couple of bushes holding on to a scrap of dirt to keep their trunks above water. But it would do.
The water flowed fast and deep around his little island OP, giving him a good place to retreat to if he needed to hide out awhile. And it gave him a bit of a view if he was reduced to using the old Mark I eyeball for intelligence gathering.
For the moment, what with the range and endurance limit on Nelly's nanos, he chose to use the eyeball. Unless he saw something exciting, he'd keep the nanos huddled around his computer, conserving energy.
It would be nice if Nelly talked Kris into getting the Marines some decent personal computers. Not that the one on his wrist didn't do all the Corps expected. But what the Corps expected and one princess demanded were not even close.
But wish in one hand and spit in the other, and see which you get the most out of. Bruce did not ration himself a laugh at his own joke. He was busy studying what lay before him in the light of a quarter moon. Panda's only moon was a bit bigger than Wardhaven's, so the light was fine. And he could smell and hear.
What he heard were small animals making nice if not familiar noises. They had fallen silent at his arrival; now they were back to full volume. The smell was something all its own, no hint of man or his things. Bruce kind of liked that.
What he saw was marsh grass, mirror-flat water, unbroken by wind. No, something just flopped into the shallow water. There was some thrashing about before silence returned. Some small hunter had gotten breakfast.
Bruce smiled grimly. Some much larger hunters would be making a whole lot more noise real soon now.
Flat on his back, under a bush, ready to push his face mask down and himself silently into the water at the first sign of business, the Marine sergeant lay like some primal beast at the water's edge. A Marine was patient.
Matters would get lively soon enough. The Marine waited.
* * *
Kris roused her task force and had them mounted up and rolling as soon as Captain Thorpe dropped below the horizon. Outside, it was still night, but ahead of them was one last pair of farms that would hide them from Thorpe.
Ninety more minutes to keep up the game of ''not here.'' After that, they'd be in the open, and the cat would be out of the bag.
Kris had to shake her head as she watched her task force form up along both sides of her in three loose rows. Farmers nodded at the wheels. Even with their lights on, trucks had a hard time keeping properly in their place.
Maybe not all the drivers were awake.
A freckled gal with a pair of pigtails almost sideswiped the rig next to her. The catcalls she collected were no worse, nor any better, than the ones got by a guy who bumped the rig next to him. Maybe all the shouting put an end to sleepy driving. The task force spread out, and the bumper-car competition ended.
A few minutes later, the Wasp raced into the sky above them and Kris mashed her comm. ''What's it look like, Captain Drago?''
''Like someone's trying to play with our sensor suite. They got the fires jacked up at the camp. If I didn't know better, I'd say the cooks were planning on burning the coffee.''
''Or burning your sensors.''
''They'd have better luck with the coffee, my boys are on the job. Anyway, some of the bedrolls are occupied warm, others are cooling warm, and a whole lot of them are way below warm.''
The captain paused before going on. ''You know, if I didn't know that Your Highness's opposition were all lazy bums, I'd suspect that they'd broken camp and were out causing mischief on this fine morning.''
''Those good boys would never do that,'' Kris said, letting sarcasm flood her answer. ''Can you tell me where they are?''
There was a long pause at that question. ''I'm not sure I can,'' Drago finally said. ''We've got a bit of heat on the trail to the dugouts, but I'm not sure if I hadn't drawn a line between their camp and them that I'd notice it. They've figured out a good way to go to ground. Good way.''
''Dig a hole, put a cool cover over it, and you'd be hard to see, too,'' Kris said.
''Ah, there you go using words no self-respecting sailor would ever use. Dig a hole. Hide in the dirt. No. No. Not our way. Not at all.''
Kris suppressed a chuckle at the weird looks her starship captain was getting from dirt farmers. ''Well, how about this. Things are going to get decisive in the not-too-distant future. I want you to creep up on Thorpe's orbit. Get in a position so in a minute or two you could come over his horizon.''
''I pop into his gun sights all suddenlike and he might take a shot at me. Not with any malice, you know. Just kind of accidental-like.''