The tear-runnels had dried, but still marked Nemli's cheekbones. He and Alex lay below the crest of the low hill overlooking the Jann cruiser.
"If these men are beyond custom, then they are beyond the law," the alien whispered.
"Y'ken right," Alex said. "Ae Ah said b'fore, they're naught better'n ae scum a' Campbells."
Sten lay on the hilltop, binoc-lenses carefully shielded from reflection, staring down at the cruiser.
"If they do not have the law, then we cannot surrender our friends to them," Nemli continued his careful analysis. He was still deeply shocked by Acauzlay's murder. "So this will mean..."
Sten clicked the binocs off and back-slithered down the hill beside them. He'd overheard the last of Nemli's whisper.
"This will mean," he interrupted flatly, "that at night's fall we kill them. We kill them all."
As the sun was occulted by the crater wall, an exterior speaker crackled:
"Evening stand-to. All bow. Talamein, we thank thee for thy recognition of our might. We thank thee for our strength as Jannisars and for proclaiming our duty on this world of unbelievers."
There was no movement around the cruiser as the black-uniformed troops listened to the prayer, except the endless, automatic sweep of the chain-gun's turret atop the ship.
"We thank you in advance," the captain's voice rasped on, "for the boon which you will grant us on the morrow as our due for pursuing these unknown raiders. S'be't."
The soldiers moved quietly into their nightwatch positions.
"Why did your Sten not pick one of us, one of the Stralbo, to begin the attack?" Di'n asked furiously.
Bet deliberately kept stroking Hugin, even though both tigers had been given their instructions and should have been on their way. Ida didn't volunteer, either.
"Because Sten respects your customs," she finally improvised. She picked herself up and eyed the ranked formation of Stralbo warriors, hidden deep in the battle grove.
"Knowing little of your laws, he felt that perhaps his methods—the methods of our team—might violate your customs."
Diln grunted in satisfaction. She returned to the endless stropping of her spearblade on the leather strap curled around her fingers.
Bet looked down at the tiger. "Munin. Hugin. The cattle. Now."
The tigers spun and bounced off into the gathering dusk, bounding deeper into the grassland that led out of the crater.
Ah, nae ye're bonnie wee boys, Alex thought, watching the five-man Jann patrol approach the clump of brush he was flattened in.
Ye hae not jus' the wee perimeter laddies, but rovin' patrols goin' to an' fro throughou' the night.
Aye, an' here they come. Point mon, all alert an' stri-kit... patrol leader... aye, two weapons mons, an' th' wee tailgate.
C'mon, laddies. Alex's waitin'.
The patrol crept through the now almost total blackness past his clump of brush. Kilgour shouldered out of his weapons harness. Waiting.
Eyes awa' fr'm 'em, he needlessly reminded himself. Dinna be lookin'... ah, they be passin'. Pass on, pass on horseman, his mind misquoted.
The patrol, moving at a well-trained slowstep, silently passed the clump.
And Alex came up and fell into step behind them. Step an' step an' y'ken we're in rhythm... an' now comin' up behind yon laddie...
Alex's enormous fist, three-gee-world muscles bunched behind it, smashed into the back of the rearguard's neck. The Jann dropped without a sound. Alex caught him, eased him to the ground.
There was no sound. The patrol eased forward, and Alex continued his creep.
Nae, these twa'll be linked by th' weapons belt. A nit tricket if y'can solve it. His fist went flat at belt level, flashed forward, into the base of the fourth man's spine.
He contorted, back broken, and fell. Alex pivoted around the falling corpse and sideslammed one meaty paw into the base of the third man's neck. Then swore to himself as the loosely held squad weapon crashed to the ground from the dying man's shoulder.
The Jann noncom had time to whirl and start his weapon up. finger coming back on the trigger. Alex one-handed the weapon away, the barrel cracking, and his open palm went straight into the man's throat.
Gettin' a wee sloppy, m'boy. Cartilage crackle and a gurgle, his mind reprimanded as Alex flat-dove forward. Hit the ground in what looked like a curled bellyflop as the point man heard his noncom's deathrattle. came around, and Alex was rolling, his legs thrashing, and the man came crashing down, his weapon flying a meter away.
The pointman scrabbled for a knife, and Alex, now moving almost slowly, brought his knee up and then crashing down into the man's ribcage. He heard the dull sound of ribs crunching, and the Jann contorted and was dead.
Alex held. flat. Waiting. Nothing. Up on his hands and knees, and looked back down the path.
Y'mum'd be proud, lad. Five for five. Ah. well. Roll on demob.
And Alex went back down the path to wait for the attack to begin.
Nemli had never seen so small a being run so fast. He and Doc had taken position about one kilometer outside the crater's mouth, deep in the grasslands. Between them and the craters, the Stralbo cattle moved leisurely toward the corrals.
Doc was crashing through what was to him a jungle of grasslands, holding a heavy—again for him—bag of powder carefully to one side.
The ripped corner of the bag was trickling powder onto the ground. Doc looked up, saw that he was parallel with the crater's far wall, turned, and—still at a dead heat—dashed back toward the Stralbo chief.
Came to a halt. The small bear and the tall chief looked soberly at each other.
"A being such as yourself deserves the highest respect," Nemli said soberly. "To these eyes, you were an elder advisor to your youths. But now to find that you are yourself still a warrior, in spite of your advancing years. And that your body can still function, even though you are as fond as I of feasting— it is an amazing sight."
Doc ground his sharp little teeth and wished that the Empire hadn't done such a good job of conditioning him out of killing people who thought well of him.
"I thank you, Nemli." he managed. "Your pleasure can only be exceeded by mine, when I see you personally lead the charge against the black ship."
Nemli shook his head sadly. "I am afraid not. my friend. Men of my age are fit only for the mopping up and to congratulate the young warriors after their success. I will not be able to seek battle this night."
Doc swore six words Alex had taught him and touched the toggle switch.
And the powder caught, flashing high into the night. The tinder-dry grasslands roared into life, and, almost instantly, the two-kilometer arc of savannah outside the crater was a crescent-inferno, burning straight into the crater.
The cattle caught the scent of the flames and lowed nervously. Their amble became a trot. Behind them was wildfire— a prairie firestorm.
Burning brands flew high into the night, and the fire began overleaping itself, almost burning itself out.
A blazing clump of bushes landed on one emasculate bellwether's back. He howled in dismay and broke into a gallop.
The panic spread, and the ground thundered as the herds of the Stralbo stampeded directly toward the crater's mouth.
Hugin yowled nervously across the crater gap. Educated and mutated he may have been, but part of his tiger genes remembered what happened when large cats stood in the way of buffalo herds.
Munin coughed back, comfortingly. Then squatted and urinated. Hugin, too. followed orders.
The herd was just beginning to turn, unable to channel into the narrow crater pass, when the lead animals caught the scent of urine. What little ideas they had vanished in the acrid smoke and the scent of a hunting animal.