In front of them was a sand garden. Somehow someone had either lifted sand up from Sasquan or programmed Smart MetalTM to create sand and rocks.
The stonework appeared ancient. Lichen and moss seemed to cover them.
Without thought or reflection, Kris found herself turning into the small memorial garden.
On the walls were simple scrolls. Kris could not translate them for herself and did not ask Nelly to do so.
There was a stone bench.
Kris settled on it. For a long while she stared, eyes hardly seeing, at this memorial to twelve who had given their lives under her command. Twelve who had died defending the feline planet in a space battle they had no real part to fight in.
Something drew Kris’s eyes around. She turned on her stone bench.
The wall beside the Tori gate was etched with the names and pictures of all 187 of those who died on the Wasp and the Hornet in this, their most recent battle under her command.
Now the sobs came.
The grief that she had refused to touch wracked her. Tears flowed as if they would never stop. She wept for those who had died, and those whose lives went on with their flesh and blood and minds slashed and scarred in obedience to her commands.
She almost wished she could think of some error on her part that she could beg their forgiveness for, but she had fought the fight as best she knew how.
The enemy had been good.
She, and those who fought with her, had been better.
Better, but not good enough to fight these bitter killers and come away unscathed.
Somewhere in her grief, Jack appeared at her side. His arms enfolded her. Ever ready, he produced a handkerchief. He held her. Just held her, and said nothing.
“Thank you,” Kris said when she found she could finally speak again.
“For what?”
“For being you. For being here. For not lying to me and saying it’s all right or some other crap like that.”
“I don’t lie,” Jack said.
“I know.”
“Don’t I get any credit for getting Jack here?” Nelly asked.
“Jack, is this on the way to the alien quarters from Admiral Country?”
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“So tell me, Nelly, who gets credit for getting me here?”
“I do, Kris. You had to do something. There’s another battle coming, and you had a burr up your ass. You’re impossible to live with.”
“Nelly, your choice of words is getting way too close to the gutter.”
“Blame Granny Rita. She would have told you that.”
“She can. Don’t you.”
“You do feel better, don’t you?”
Kris leaned against Jack and found the last of the emotions draining out of her.
“Yes, I feel better. I’m alive. Twenty-two enemy ships’ worth of bloodthirsty killers are not. They will not wreck that planet full of kitties, bloodthirsty or no.”
“How about something to eat?” Jack said. “Lately, you’ve only been picking at your food.”
Kris’s stomach picked that moment to rumble. About 6.9 on the tummy-rumbling scale. “You might have a good idea, Jack. I was headed down to pester Jacques about our newly recruited aliens, who seem to be content to eat our meat and rest in the artificial sun outside the cave we’ve made for them. There’s got to be something we can do with them.”
“See why I gave her the wrong directions?” Nelly said.
“You’re going to have to be careful, Nelly,” Jack said. “You keep messing in the affairs of us humans, and we’re going to mess back in your affairs.”
“Yes,” Nelly said, almost sounding contrite, “there is that off button, and if I send you in the wrong direction too many times, you’ll hire one of those dumb navigation systems and start using it.”
“And you, smart girl, would be out of a job,” Kris said, taking the hand Jack offered her to help her up from her stony place. That might not be stone, but the Smart MetalTM seemed to have left her just as stiff and cold as real stone would have.
The wardroom was serving dinner. They ate in good company and retired to their quarters. Kris told Jack they’d just cuddle. That was all she wanted, and he agreed.
Whether Kris changed her mind, or Jack changed it for her, she was glad for what came her way.
She slept well that night, untroubled by ghosts.
She’d have more before she slept again.
Many more.
52
Next morning, after breakfast, Kris connected with Jacques and did make it down to where they now housed the alien natives. Their quarters were more spacious and much more to their liking.
They had what appeared to be three caves coming off a rock overhang. Below was a sandy area and what looked like a stream. When Kris crossed it, she found herself splashing.
Apparently, a certain amount of the Wasp’s reaction mass was in use as a creek for them.
They had their own fire and were roasting something that had, no doubt, until recently been alive on Sasquan. They seemed content.
~You chased off the other star walkers,~ the gray-bearded man said, no doubt in his voice.
~They will not walk among the stars again,~ Kris answered.
~Will you take more heads?~ the bald woman asked.
~We will either take their heads or they will take ours,~ Kris said.
The bald woman shook her head. Nelly reminded Kris that this meant agreement among these people.
~Why do you have to take their head? Why do they want to take your head?~ piped up a thin voice.
Kris turned to see the young fellow whose leg injury had started all this. Now he was up and hobbling toward them, a young-girl playmate following him like a shadow.
~They have land,~ the graybeard said. ~If you go in someone’s land, you either run away from them or fight them. If you win, it is your land.~
That explanation seemed to satisfy all the adults listening.
It didn’t satisfy the young fellow. ~But look up in the sky at night. Not this one, but the real sky. There is a lot of land. Every one of those dots of light is a star with land. Why fight?~
~You will know when you are older,~ the bald woman said.
That answer didn’t seem any more acceptable to him than it had to Kris when she was his age.
~Can I go with you, Uncle Jacques?~
The anthropologist stepped forward. ~You can go with me if your father’s father or your father’s mother says you can,~ the anthropologist said. The “if” was in Standard.
~Can we,~ came in two-part harmony from both the boy and girl.
~Go,~ the grandfather said. ~Leave your betters in some quiet. And you be sure to feed them, Jacques. When they walk off with you to pester you with questions, they miss their meat here and come home whining for meat that is already eaten.~
~I will feed them,~ Jacques assured their elders.
The four of them crossed the stream, opened the door painted to blend in with the forest motif, and stepped outside.
~Can I have my “reader”?~ both kids begged.
Jacques produced a pair of readers and gave them to the kids. In a moment, they were lost to a basic primer on letters and numbers, the kind of thing Kris had been given when she was three.
“You’re teaching them to read?” Kris asked.
“Their elders can’t grasp the concept of symbols meaning anything. They aren’t dumb. Drop them in the woods, and they’ll track a gnat that we can’t even see when it’s biting us on the ass, but try to get across to them the idea of three or four? Nope. Not possible. Me, mine. One, two, many. Big many to some, but just many to most.”
“But these kids?” Kris said, waving at the two, then grabbing one and pulling them out of the way of a hurrying Sailor.