Eric Flint: The Rats, the Bats and the Ugly

"Nothing. Abbas. Take them and lock them in the cells down at the police station. Steel doors should even hold the rats for a while. And it'll give some protection against incoming. It's a solid building."

So, three minutes later, Virginia was left in a cell full of rats and bats.

And her fears. Was Chip still alive? Regretfully she had to admit to herself that there wasn't much hope. A tear found its way down her cheek. Soon she might not even have those precious memories. If only the jamming could hold.

"High-spine, the radio jamming continues. We are attempting to neutralize it, but our missile-launch portals were heavily damaged by the initial laser-fire from the humans. And every time we have taken one transmitter off, another comes on. However we think we have pinpointed the central transmission source. We believe it is being coordinated from under the remains of their slowship."

"Which implies that it survived a direct hit."

"Yes, High-spine."

"Take a ground-force out, with heavy mining equipment. There must be a reinforced bunker underneath. Destroy it. In the meanwhile desist wasting munitions."

The High-spine turned her attention to another high-instar. "How goes the human slave capture at this 'Webb fields'?"

"Since the initial batch, few have come, High-spine. We think there is resistance happening. Intimidation." She clattered her spines in disapproval.

The High-spine turned her attention back to those she was sending out to destroy the bunker. "Gather information on this when you go in, Rettitit. Take captives if possible. And Territ. The humans we have: Begin the mindscrub so that we can use them against their species-mates. If they are mindscrubbed, they will not rebel. All of the slaves taken on this world are to be mindscrubbed before implanting now. Begin with the females. The humans' only desirable social trait is that they are supposed to treat females with awe. They will be reluctant to kill them."

Yetteth took his bucket and sidled away. He could do nothing about this war. But he still wanted to know. It was compulsive. And the human Chip would want to know, if he came back alive from the questioning.

Eric Flint

The Rats, the Bats amp; the Ugly

George Bernard Shaw City, smoldering and in fear.

"There is a sort of lander type thing just off on the edge of Webb Fields. That isn't force-shielded. They've got several high-walled enclosures there. They've got some of those who obeyed the order to go to them for shelter there. We could attack that," suggested one of Fitz's impromptu "General Staff."

A soldier ran up. "Major, it's Lieutenant Capra on the field-telephone. He says there are two massive vehicles coming out of the Korozhet ship. Some kind of hovercraft. They're heading east, sir. Towards the old slowship."

"There's not much left there. All right, soldiers. If they want something from there, it's our job to stop them. I'll want Alpha company, Sergeant. See they're in the cars in two minutes. And I'll want those 'sappers' and their supply of explosives."

"Fitzhugh! You can't go," protested a colonel, who had been part of the trial panel. "We need you here, man."

Fitz shook his head. "This command center is up and running. This is stuff you can all do as well as I can. Most of you have more experience at it, in fact. With respect, fighting is something I can do better than all of you. Come on, Ariel. Let's roll."

Fifteen minutes later, they were surveying the two alien hovercraft that were slowly coming down the street. The aliens were plainly checking for resistance on their route. The second hovercraft had two captive children on the aft deck. On the foredeck, huge aliens with enormous horns were operating what was plainly some form of scanner. Inside the transparent dome, Fitz could see the prickly forms of their enemy.

He and Ariel crawled back, before they came into range.

"The Benmore building," said Fitz curtly, to the driver of his commandeered vehicle.

They raced along the back-streets. Two minutes later Fitz's "sappers"-a pair of demolition contractors-were setting charges. His troops were doing a hasty door-to-door check for any remaining occupants of the plush apartment block next to the canal.

By the time the two alien hovercraft came in sight, Fitz's makeshift troops were well back. Whatever sort of scanner the aliens were using would have to penetrate three buildings and an earth berm to detect them. One spotter remained on the roof. The rest were in the vehicles ready to race in… or away.

They were armed with a mixture of issue bangsticks for the few slowshield-wearing military personnel, and an assortment of firearms and knives and hammers for the rest. Fitz had heard that a hammer had killed the Korozhet in the scorpiary. He wished desperately that he had some more front-line troops, but those were seldom posted back to the capital. He had several maintenance units, two boot-camps' worth of raw recruits, a lot of supply clerks and JAG officers, the medical corps-who had taken over civilian evacuation-a signals unit, and a hundred or so men who had been on pass in the city. He'd used these as stiffening in the units they'd formed with the townspeople.

The new units were as often as not "officered" by Vats. Certainly all the NCOs were Vats. But the class distinction had gone by the board now that they were fighting for their lives.

What he'd really wanted was Van Klomp and his paratroopers. But their camp was abandoned. Van Klomp would be around somewhere. But he hadn't stayed in a known possible target-showing more brains than most of the units, whose officers had kept them sitting on their hands. A sweep through Military HQ had gathered a further five officers-recent appointees, as well as a fairly large supply of clerks. Apparently the General Staff, having received assurances from the Korozhet, had left them behind as there wasn't sufficient transport.

"Count of three," said the observer from the rooftop. His orders were to try and drop it on the lead hovercraft and the nose of the second. The prisoners were probably going to be killed by the Korozhet. They might be killed by the debris, but Fitz still didn't want to risk dropping the building on them. Demolition is not that exact a science.

Inside the landspeeder the explosions were muffled. The dust ahead was still rising when Fitz and his soldiers got there. Dust was going up, and bits of the luxury apartments were still coming down. They were out of their vehicles and running in, firing small-arms for some form of cover.

The second Korozhet craft was still moving. As they got to the deck, it lurched. One of the privates was cutting the two children loose, as Fitz took down his first Korozhet at close quarters.

Then his muscles spasmed terribly and he felt himself helplessly arc over backwards into the rubble.

He was conscious, able to hear and see, still breathing. And paralyzed. Fitz could see a orange-spined prickle-ball with what was unmistakably a hand-weapon.

It said something.

Ariel was standing on his chest. She started forward. Just a pace.

Then she bared her teeth.

"NO!" she hissed between those teeth. "Mine. Mine."

So the Korozhet shot her. A brief dart of red light.

Fitz, unable to move, felt her fall. And felt her lifeblood stream onto his chest. The little pawhands clung convulsively onto his shirt-pocket. And then released.

The Korozhet spined down, with one of its horned alien henchmen. The Korozhet spine-suckers plucked up Ariel. The horned alien began to lift Fitz in its clumsy forepaws. Suddenly the creature jerked, and dropped him face down on the rubble.

Fitz couldn't move. Face down, he couldn't even see. He could hear the shooting, though. It sounded like an entire barrage. He lay there, grieving. He had three last Cointreau-centered liqueur chocolates in that top pocket, that he'd been saving for Ariel.