"Ayee!" Delkra repeated. "Asi debt, indeed!"
The Mardukan, who was a bit taller than the shaman, turned to the prince, who'd doffed his helmet. The armor was more comfortable than the steamy heat of the jungle, but Roger felt it was more diplomatic to face this Delkra, who was presumably senior in the local hierarchy, without the obscuring head gear.
"I thank you for my brother's life," Delkra said. "But I cannot be happy for either his enslavement or the failure of his quest."
"Whoa!" Roger said sharply. "What's this 'enslavement' thing? All I did was shoot a... a flar beast!"
"Asi bond is the tightest of all bonds," the chief explained. "To save another's life, without fear or favor, binds him to you through this life and beyond."
"What?" Roger was trying to get over the "slave" concept. "You guys never help each other out?"
"Of course we do," Cord said, "but we are members of the same clan. To help another is to aid the clan, and the clan, in turn, aids us. But you had no such reason to kill the flar beast. For the life of me, I'm not sure that you should have."
"It could have attacked the Company," Roger pointed out. "That was the real reason I shot. I didn't even see you."
"Fate, then," Delkra said with a hand clap. "It wasn't threatening you or your..." he glanced over the Marines scattered down the hillside "... clan?"
"No," Roger admitted. "Not at the time. But I could tell it was dangerous."
"Karma," Cord said with a double hand clap. "We will complete the binding tonight," he continued with another gesture. "Delkra, I request shelter for the night. And shelter for my asi's clan."
"Oh, granted," the chief said, stepping out of the palisade opening and waving into the jungle. "Granted. Come in out of the rain!"
"We're getting sensor ghosts all along the perimeter," Lieutenant Sawato had just taken a tour of the company while Captain Pahner kept an eye on the negotiations of the top of the hill. Now she looked around at the curtaining rain and shook her head. "I've got that funny feeling... ."
"We're surrounded by the warriors of this tribe," Pahner said in a distant tone. "They're good. They move slow, so the motion sensors aren't sure if they're really there, and they're isothermal, so the heat sensors can't pick anything up. No power sources, no metal except a knife or spearhead, and we don't have the sensors dialed in for scummy nervous systems." He pulled out a pack of gum and absentmindedly extracted a stick and popped it into his mouth. He shook the pack a couple of times to get the water out, and put it away, all without looking. "Take a glance over to the left. There's a big tree with spreading roots. Halfway up, there's a limb covered in... stuff. Go out the limb five meters, just before a red patch. About a half a meter to the right of the red patch. Spear."
"Damn," Sawato said softly. The scummy was as hard to spot as any professional sniper she'd ever seen. He appeared to be covered with a blanket that broke up his outline. "So, what do we do about it, long-term?"
"Dial in the nervous system sensors. We'll have enough data after tonight to do that. After that, any scummy comes within fifty meters of us, we'll be able to detect them. And warn everybody that they're out there. We don't want any accidents."
"I'll pass that on then, shall I?" Sawato asked. Pahner seemed awfully detached about the whole thing, she thought.
"Yeah. Might as well. Looks like the negotiations are going all right after all. I was waiting to see if it dropped in the pot."
"You know," Julian said, "I've been shot, blown up, deep frozen, and vacuum dried. But this is the first time I ever worried about being washed away."
The rain had yet to let up, and the position the squad leader occupied—a slight depression behind a fallen and rotting tree—was rapidly filling. The combination of rising water and the weight of his combat armor meant he was slowly sinking in quickmud.
"Or drowned," he added.
"Ah, come on," Moseyev said as he gently moved aside a bit of fern with the barrel of his bead rifle, "it's just a little rain." He was sure there was something watching them, but he wasn't sure what it was.
" 'A little rain,' he says." Julian shook his head. "That's like saying Sirius is 'a little hot,' or that New Bangkok is 'a little decadent.' "
"It's not like it's gonna kill you," Moseyev said. "The armor has air for nearly two days." The fire team leader jerked his head to the side as his helmet highlighted another possible contact. But then it faded again. "Damn. I wonder what's causing that?"
"I'd say it was the wet," Julian said, lowering his own rifle. "But since we're all getting the same ghosts, I'd say it's something in the jungle."
"All hands." The radio crackled with Lieutenant Sawato's calm soprano. "Those sensor ghosts are the local tribesmen. Be calm, though; the natives are friendly. We're going to be going into the village soon, so they'll probably make themselves evident. No firing. I say again, no firing."
"Everybody get that?" Julian called, standing up to make sure he could see all the members of the squad. "Check fire for partisans."
"Got it, Sarge," Macek replied from the far end. "'The natives are friendly.' Riiight."
The private's position was the edge of the squad's area of responsibility, and Macek was the member with the least time in the unit. If he'd gotten the word, everyone else probably had, but Julian wasn't in The Empress' Own because he settled for "probably."
"Yeah, and 'The transfer's in the system,' " the sergeant responded with a laugh. "Give me a thumbs up on that check fire," he added more seriously, and made sure he saw a thumb from everyone before he resumed his position in the puddle. He might bitch about it, but the depression was still the best location for him. Even if it was turning into a lake.
" 'I'm from the Imperium,' " Moseyev continued with a litany as old as government, " 'I'm here to help you.' " He gave a thumbs up.
" 'Don't worry, it's a cold landing zone,' " Cathcart added from behind his plasma gun. Thumbs up.
" 'We're getting air-trucked to the barracks,' " Mutabi said in an evil tone. Middle finger up.
"Oh, man, you would have to say that one!" Julian chuckled. "My aching feet."
"Modderpocker," Poertena said. "Chus what we need. Surrounded by tee cannibals."
"Chill, Poertena," Sergeant Despreaux advised. "They're friendly."
"Sure they are," Poertena replied. "Why fight tee roc if you can get it to fly into tee pot."
Even as he spoke, his helmet registered another contact. Then another. It began popping up icons everywhere, and an entire line of Mardukans materialized magically out of the rain.
"Modderpocker," Poertena said again, quietly. "Neat trick."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The company barely fitted inside the walls of the village. The Marines and their equipment were packed into every nook and cranny as the women of the village, significantly smaller than the male warriors, came out with hoarded foodstuffs for what was shaping up as an evening of celebration. The company reciprocated in building the menu as best it could. Despite the critical importance of the food supplies they'd brought with them, some of the Marines' rations were never going to survive conditions on Marduk, and they brought those out to add to the various edibles being produced by the Mardukans.
Platters of grain, similar in texture to rice but tasting more like barley, were scattered about among the residents and visitors, along with carved wooden bowls of fruits. The predominant fruit species appeared to be a large, brown oval with a thick, inedible skin but a ripe red interior that tasted something like a kiwi fruit. Since it grew on palmlike trees, the humans promptly christened it a "kiwi-date" or "kate" fruit. In addition to the grain and fruit, there were steaming platters of unrecognizable charred things. Most of the humans passed those up.