Eric Flint: The Rats, the Bats and the Ugly

"Major General Fredricks." Van Klomp beckoned to a radio-op. "The corporal here will get a radio-link with my men at the top. You will inquire whether the dart the Korozhet fired has any toxicity on the outside, or whether it is just the liquid pumped down it. If the thing is toxic we need to know exactly what sort of toxin it is. Make it very clear that we're holding them responsible for this incident."

By the timid look, the major general did not find it at all odd to find their roles reversed, and the major giving him orders. In fact he looked relieved, if somewhat terrified by the Jekyll-and-Hyde transformation of the formerly respectful major. He did as he was told.

"… Yes, Tirritit. Fired darts at a soldier. Cut his arm quite badly. We hold you responsible for this injury. We need to know if there are toxins on that barb."

The odd breathy speech of the advisor carried some reassurance. "A defense mechanism. Advisor Shurrit must have been frightened. There is a lytic haemotoxic protease in the toxin pumped down the center of the spine-harpoon, but there will be very little on the outside of it, Major General. The miscreant will be dealt with. Our apologies."

"Er. Accepted… out."

Van Klomp nodded to the radio-op. "Get the MO. He has a radio down there. Give him that information. Tell him what has been done so far. And then we'd better decide what to do with that one." He pointed at the dangling alien, some hundred and twenty feet above their heads.

The general had recovered his wind as well as his wits. "Major. How dare you give orders to me like that! I'm your superior officer, you know!"

"My apologies, sir. Decisive action was called for. A man's life might have hung in the balance. Would you have preferred it if I had wasted time on flowery politeness? Did you-as a result-do anything that you wouldn't have done to assist our soldiers?"

The general noticed just what Van Klomp was looking at. Realized he was about to make a fool of himself on camera. "Er. Quite. I was merely rather taken aback at your telling me to do exactly what I was just about to do."

"I apologize again," said Van Klomp, knowing he sounded anything but contrite. He turned to the two reporters. "Isn't it strange that the slowshields are set to only stop something moving faster than the Korozhet's darts?"

The general looked at the two reporters. "Have you two got clearance to be here? Sensitive military matters are being dealt with. I don't think you should be filming."

Sherry shrugged. "Tell you what, General. I just sent through the pics of you coming down the hoist on the satellite-link." The reporter had one of the now incredibly valuable and rare Earth-built satellite phones. GBS City had cell coverage, but otherwise you had to rely on land-lines… unless you had one of those. "I'll ask my editor to consider holding them back if you don't give me any more trouble about filming."

The general did a very good imitation of a turkey-cock. "You… you can't hold me to ransom! Get these journalists out of here, Major. You tell that editor of yours if he releases those pictures I'll sue. Major, confiscate those cameras!"

The kind of reporter who picks his way through a mine field to get a story isn't that easy to get rid of. "I wouldn't do that, Major Van Klomp. General Fredricks, this is now going out live. You do know the law, don't you, as far as censorship, damage to equipment of reportage, and the withholding of information which is in the public interest?"

Van Klomp smiled pacifically. "I've had a direct order from a superior officer. I can't disobey."

"Leave them," said Fredericks sourly. "But you aren't allowed into combat zones without permits, which I am sure you haven't got. So you'd better get out of here. Major, see these men removed from the front."

Van Klomp saluted. "Sir. Sergeant Daniels. See to it."

"Look, Major!" said the sergeant.

The Korozhet were descending with magnificent slowness on a gleaming metal platelike craft. The device appeared to have no visible means of support.

"Another little toy they somehow neglected to mention," said Van Klomp dryly.

The reporters were ardently filming, as their escort was busy watching the descent. The strange plate stopped beside the dangling Korozhet. A brief bright lance of light flickered. The net bag fell. Now there was no cable brake to slow its passage to the distant bottom.

"They've killed him… My God. They've just killed him!" said the shocked reporter.

The plate continued to descend until it got to their level. By now the soldiers had begun to hustle the protesting reporters away. Van Klomp felt that it was just as well. He didn't know quite how to handle this himself.

The alien did. He inclined his spines to the major general and asked: "I trust that the matter is now resolved to your satisfaction?"

"Uh." General Fredricks swallowed. "We… um, didn't mean that you had to kill him."

"But how else do you chastise an underling who has failed?" asked the Korozhet. "I will send two of my staff down to deal with the remains as is respectful. Now, if we can proceed to the brood-heart chamber?"

The brood-heart chamber was scarred by the explosive damage from the shorting of the power cables that had run the force-field generator. The walls, once hung with rich fabrics, were now firescarred and stripped.

The general and his aides still seemed very impressed by the vast dimensions of the brood-heart chamber.

The alien Korozhet, however, looked at the chamber with different eyes, and not just in the sense that they were ocelli on the end of some of their spines. "What has happened to all the equipment?" demanded the purple-red spined one Van Klomp had come to recognize as Advisor Tirritit.

"How did you know that there was equipment here, sir?" asked Van Klomp.

The creature clattered its spines. "I am in my female-phase, Major. And naturally we have seen captured scorpiaries before."

"Ah," said Van Klomp. "It was just that, based on what we found here, the information the Korozhet advisors have provided to the army seems to have been very inaccurate."

More spine clattering. Van Klomp was getting the idea that it probably signified irritation. "Most of the scorpiaries captured have only been taken after tremendous fighting and structural damage. This is in better repair than is usually the case. We hoped to update our data. That is why we are here, Major. So where is the equipment that should be here?"

"Yes, Major, where is it?" demanded Major General Fredricks. "You assured me you'd secured the area. This doesn't look secured to me…" He kicked at the remains of coals and ashes from the Maggot-barbeque that the rats and bats had enjoyed, with a highly polished shoe. As a gesture this was all very well, but was ill-advised in his new trousers. The only pair of BDU trousers that the paratrooper sergeant had been able to find with a large enough waistline for the general had belonged a far taller man. The huge bulge of extra leg snagged on a half-burned piece of priceless Terran antique gateleg table that must have been among the loot with which the Magh' had furnished their once-plush nest. The general landed, with a crunch and a billow of ash, on the remains of the dead fire.

"Of course we secured the area, sir," said Van Klomp, as the general's aides helped him to his feet. "And in accordance with standing instruction amendment 202-b, subsection iii, all captured alien material has been sent back to the Alien equipment research section, at the HAR Institute of Technology, as quickly as possible. We've been very busy, sir. Normally, as you know, the Magh' fighters don't have any equipment for us to capture. But we've sent five truckloads of stuff off under guard already. There has been no looting."