Hutch looked with frustration at the trees, which could provide no sanctuary since the branches were far beyond their reach.
"This isn't working," said Carson finally, disengaging himself from George and sitting down. "If you didn't have to worry about me, you could carry Janet, and you could move a lot faster. Give me a pulser, and come get me tomorrow."
"Sure," George said. "I'll hold the pass, boys. You go on ahead." He shook his head. "I don't think so."
They were leaving a trail of blood. Hutch traded places with Maggie. Then they started again. Occasionally, Maggie fired her weapon. And it seemed to have gotten personal. "Little bastard" she'd say, "take that." And: "Right between the eyes, you son of a bitch."
She exhausted another pulser. They had three left.
Hutch reluctantly gave Maggie her weapon. "What do you think?" asked Carson.
"We need to get off the ground," said Janet. "We need a tree."
"Find one our size," said Maggie. And then: "How about a wallT
"Yeah," said George. "That should work. The upper level might be safe. If the bastards can't climb." He looked at Hutch. "Can we contact the Perth!"
"Not directly. Somebody would need to activate the shuttle relay."
"Wouldn't matter anyhow," said Carson. "They couldn't help. Their shuttle's down here."
His dressing was soaked with blood. Hutch added more foam.
They'd stopped in a small clearing to do repairs, when George held up a hand. "Heads up," he said. "They're here."
Hutch had to fight down an urge to break and run. "Where?" she said.
They came out of the high grass from all directions, and they came in overwhelming numbers. They moved forward with near-military precision. Hutch, Maggie, and George formed a circle around the others and killed with a will. White beams bathed the advancing horde. The brachyids died. They died in rows, but if the lines wavered, they did not stop. Scorched carapaces littered the area, and the grass and bushes caught fire. Carson and Janet, without weapons, squeezed back and tried to keep out of the way. The air filled with the smell of charred meat. A crab trailing smoke caromed off Hutch's foot.
George fought with coolness and calculation. Standing at his side, Hutch almost felt she didn't know him. He was smiling, enjoying himself. The gentle innocence was gone.
Their attackers moved with malice and purpose. Hutch sensed feints and sallies and organization in the attack. Their eyes locked on her and tracked her. No crab on the beaches of her youth had ever seemed so aware of her presence.
Maggie's pulser was fading, going red.
The things came on relentlessly.
The fear that they were not going to get out was beginning to take hold. Oddly, that suspicion induced a series of conflicting emotions in Hutch, like currents in a quiet lake: she was almost simultaneously calm, terrified, resigned. She joined George in taking pleasure in the killing, wielding her beam with deadly satisfaction. And she began to consider how the end might come, what she should do. She decided she would not allow herself, or anyone else, to be taken down alive. She located Carson and Janet with sidewise glances. Carson was riveted by the battle, but Janet caught her eye and nodded. When the end comes, if it comes, do the right thing.
The dead, smoking shells continued to pile up. Hutch thought she detected some reluctance in the animals trying to breach the rising barrier, but they were incessantly pushed forward by pressure from behind. She found, increasingly, she could expand her field of fire, and attack the rear ranks. The zone of smoldering meat around them began to act as a shield.
She took a moment to reduce power.
Black smoke was getting into her eyes. She killed two more, and spared one that lurched crazily away from her and ran into a tree.
"We've got to run for it," said George. "Before they regroup."
"I'm in favor," said Hutch. "How do we manage it?"
"The bushes." He pointed to the side. He was shouting, to be heard over the din. Most of the creatures were on the trail, front and rear. "Punch a hole through the bushes," he said.
Hutch nodded.
"Everybody hear that?" called George.
Hutch turned toward Janet and Frank. "Can you guys manage on your own? Until we get clear?"
Carson looked at Janet.
"/ can hop," she said. "Let's go."
Hutch wasted no time. She swung her pulser toward the shrubbery George had indicated and burned the hole. Several crabs were moving back there, and she killed one while George held the rear. The bushes were thick, and she feared they might bog down in them. Protecting her eyes, she tried to ease the path for Janet. Once, twice, she stopped and drove off attackers.
But by God they were moving again.
Minutes later, they came out on a grassy hillside.
"Where''s George?" said Maggie, looking behind them.
Hutch opened a channel. "George, where are you?"
"I'm fine," he said. "I'll be right along."
"What are you doing?"
"Hutch," he said, in a tone she had never heard him use before, "keep going. Get to the wall. I'll meet you there."
"No!" she howled. "No heroes. We need you here."
"I'll be there, dammit. Frank, will you talk to her?" And he signed off.
"He's right," Carson said.
"I'm going back for him—"
"If you do, we're all dead. His only chance is for MS to get to high ground. Now, come on—"
Charred grass and crab-parts crunched underfoot. George followed Maggie, but the crabs came too quickly. He turned and fired. There was no point in his hurrying, because he could go no faster than the people in front of him.
The attack slowed. A few individuals charged, but for the most part, they seemed to understand where the limits of his field of effective fire lay, and they remained outside that range. He backed through the bushes.
They kept pace. And he could hear them on both sides.
He fought down an urge to break and run. He listened for pulsers ahead, and was encouraged to hear only the sounds of people clumping through forest.
In whatever dim perceptions they had, the brachyids understood and avoided the pulser. They did not charge him, at least not in large numbers. They had learned. He needed to use that fact to buy time.
He didn't dare move too quickly. Didn't want to come up on his companions before they'd gained the safety of the wall. So he stopped occasionally, and, when the creatures approached, sometimes singly, sometimes several abreast in their pseudo-military formations, he turned back on them, and drove them off.
Hutch's frantic call unnerved him. He'd been able to hear her both on the link and on the wind. They were still very close. Damn—
The possibilities for ambush were everywhere. But no sudden rush came, no charge from the flank, no surprises. They merely stayed with him. And that was okay. If they were targeting him, they weren't chasing the others. And fast as they were, he was quicker. As long as he didn't have to carry anyone.
He plunged into high grass, too high for him to see them directly, but he could see the stalks moving. He kept going until he came out onto rocky terrain. Where he could see. Where they'd make easy targets.
Let Hutch and the others get as far away as they could.
"Where's the wall?" asked Carson.
They'd reached the top of the slope. Maybe another half klick. "Ten minutes," Hutch said. And, to Janet: "You okay?"
Janet and Carson were limping along as best they could, supported by Hutch and Maggie. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Hutch would have kept George on the circuit, but she had her hands full with her injured comrades, and she didn't want to distract him. But it was hard to keep back the tears.