MacArthur was quick. Warm splinters of shrapnel dropped to the ground, clinking wetly on the rocks. He wrapped hide and strips of bloody material tightly around her torso.
"That's all I can do," he said. He made her put on his coat.
"Thanks, Doc," Buccari breathed heavily as the pain receded. "Will… will I still be able to play the accordion?" She sat upright and leaned gingerly against the rocks. A mortar round thudded to ground close by, and more shrapnel screamed around them. She ducked into his arms, moaning in pain and fear. MacArthur hugged her passionately.
The mortar fire stopped, and he pushed her away, not looking at her face. He tried to hide his tears.
"What's wrong, Mac?" she asked. "We're going to get out of this, I know we are. The fleet's coming. You heard the lander."
He smiled sadly. "It's funny, Sharl. That's what's bothering me."
"What? Why?" she mumbled, wincing.
MacArthur moved to his knees.
"Sharl," he said, holding her hand. "We belong to different worlds. The fleet's back. You can—you'll have to return to your world. You're an officer. I'm a grunt."
"Bullshit, Mac!" she responded, green eyes flaring. "This is our world! Yours and mine. It's a new world, and we'll write our own rules—our own philosophies."
MacArthur looked at the bloodshot eyes staring out from her scarred and blackened face. He stroked her tangled, singed hair. "We better worry about one problem at a time. That shoulder's going to make it hard for you, if we have to climb down the back side."
"Don't worry about me. Corporal."
MacArthur smiled, but the smile evaporated with the realization the mortar fire had not just paused—it had ceased. He jumped to his feet and peeked above the rocks. "Sandy! Terry! Anything happening on your side?" he shouted.
"All clear here!" Tatum shouted. "The bugs are still butts up in the rocks."
"Look!" Buccari shouted, clambering up to join him. "The drone!"
"Colonel!" the subordinate shouted. "The drone! Birds are attacking."
"Not birds," Longo snarled. He scanned the skies with binoculars. "Birds do not carry weapons. Command the drone back to us and lower its altitude. Order the soldiers to blast those creatures!"
Longo watched anxiously as the mountain flyer closed inexorably on the descending machine. He could not afford to lose his last drone.
"Make it go faster!" Longo shouted. "Faster!"
"It is already at maximum speed, Colonel," said the subordinate. Both officers watched the drone technician anxiously, praying for the soldier to perform a miracle.
Ironically, if only the bear people had made the drone climb, the hunter would have been frustrated. As long as they continued to lower the machine's altitude it was possible for Braan to continue pursuit. The hunter dove at the noisy craft, closing on his objective, planning his tactics. Gaining speed by pulling in his wings, the hunter accelerated and swooped below the helicopter, passing it by. Braan curved his membranes and started an arcing movement, giving him an upward ballistic trajectory. Pulling in his wings, the creature carved a graceful, parabolic path, all the while spinning his body to face the approaching drone. With gravity killing his vertical momentum, Braan pulled the pistol from the holster and, holding it with both clawed hands at arms length, sighted down the barrel at the onrushing machine.
Braan, the-leader-of hunters, fired one shot at point blank range before the drone crashed into his body.
"It hit him!" MacArthur shouted, binoculars pressed to his eyes. The drone halted in midair, pieces of metal peeling away, theplane of its rotor blades tilting. Captain's limp form was dashed aside, tumbling from the skies. MacArthur focused on the falling creature, but he could still see the drone veering crazily. The drone wobbled, seeking to stabilize itself, but then it rolled in a jerking spiral over onto its back. MacArthur thought the spinning blades would strike the hunter, but Captain had fallen clear.
"Come on, Captain! Fly!" MacArthur exhorted. "Come on!"
One of the creature's wings slipped open, and Captain rolled in mid-air. The hunter's line of fall deflected, but it remained precipitous.
"You can do it!" MacArthur was yelling. "Fly, you little bastard! Fly!"
The hunter's wings stiffened. The plummet turned into a swoop, and Captain sailed unsteadily over the ground, wobbling through the ranks of the konish soldiers. The drone exploded beautifully in the background. The humans cheered. MacArthur screamed in joy.
But not for long. The scattering soldiers, recovering from the drone's crash, shifted their attention to the flying creature. Soldiers scurried to position, raising blasters and rifles. Captain struggled to the east, following the rolling terrain leading to the cliffs beyond. As he cleared the last konish soldier, the blasters opened fire. The hunter dipped and climbed, swerved and turned, covering more than half the open ground to the cliffs, but he was losing speed, the evasive maneuvers eroding his velocity. When he was almost to the cliff's edge, a blaster beam spun him around! Captain collapsed into a curled ball and fell with a sickening slide onto the rocky ground beyond the grassy swell of the ridge. He had almost made it.
High overhead, the orbiting hunters screamed fiercely.
"He's still moving!" MacArthur shouted, standing and staring through the field glasses. "Cover me!" Dropping binoculars and rifle, he sprinted down the rocky terrain. Captain had crashed short of the cliff's edge, but the cliff dweller had made it over the rise of the ridge; the konish soldiers could not see the fallen hunter. If MacArthur could reach the boulders at the foot of the high ground, he could make it out to the downed animal; the curve of the ridge would protect him. He bounded down the hill.
MacArthur heard a laser beam sing by his head and realized his beard was on fire. He dove behind rocks, slapping at his burning hair, feeling layers of skin slip from his cheek. The smell was nauseating. He heard loud noises and looked back. Chastain and Buccari were following him down the slope, jumping from rock to rock and providing furious covering fire. The lasers stopped, but konish infantry cannon erupted, and explosions rippled all around him.
MacArthur rolled across an opening in the rocks and hit the flat grassy crown of the ridge on his feet, running downhill, trying to put the rolling hump of the ridge between him and the aliens. Another laser beam sang past his neck, and then he was below their line of sight. A hundred meters distant, Captain staggered toward him, limping severely, wings dragging. The cliff's edge fell away to MacArthur' s right—a vertical drop. MacArthur closed the distance to the hunter in sprinter's time, ignoring the dizzy precipice.
Captain still held the pistol in his hands. MacArthur grabbed the weapon, stuck it in his belt, and picked the cliff dweller up in his arms like a child. The battered creature's eyes were tightly shut. He chirped softly, plaintively, and was silent. MacArthur turned to start his way back to the rocks and saw konish soldiers charging over the ridge, pouring laser and cannon fire into the rocks where Buccari and Chastain were hiding. MacArthur, hugging the hunter to his chest, fell to his knees behind a low wall of boulders and watched two of the kones fall to return fire. Their ammo's gotta' be about gone, thought MacArthur, panic setting in.
Soldiers detached from the main body and made for MacArthur' s position. Still hugging the dweller, MacArthur pulled the pistol, raised to his knees, and fired two shots at the lead kone. The alien's helmet shattered as the giant fell backwards, and his mates moved to take cover. MacArthur took aim at another soldier and pulled the trigger; one round exploded from the pistol barrel and then—click, click, click! The Marine looked around in desperation. He had no choice. He put his head down and jumped to his feet, not feeling the weight of his burden. Protective cover was only a stone's throw away.