The field police commandant pushed his way to the front of the knot of men by the plot dais. He was a portly individual clearly not recently accustomed to action. His head was shaved, and a livid scar ran down his right cheek. A tag on his tabard stated that his name was Mai-tov.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
"I'm Topman Rance from the Anah 5. I am one of a group of topmen who have assumed command of this e-vac area."
"On what authority?"
Rance was getting tired of telling the story.
"Simple chain of command. We're now the senior combat noncoms on this base and therefore in command. We have come here to see if we can count on your cooperation."
"You know damned well that in any withdrawal situation, the field police have jurisdiction. What you're doing is little more than armed insurrection."
"The most important thing is that we don't like the way this operation is being conducted." He motioned to the armed men behind him. "We do have the upper hand right now."
"I suppose you want to get e-vaced out."
"Not only that, but we also want to see the evacuation speeded up. We want to get off as many experienced fighting men as we can."
"Then you'd be better off guarding the perimeter. The enemy are bound to stage an attack before too long. Why don't you get out of here and let me get on with my job? Nothing's happened here yet that can't be forgotten."
"I could simply shoot all of you out of hand."
"You'd probably live to regret that."
"You seem to have grown fat on it."
"Suppose we could reach a compromise?"
"Keep talking."
"You might be surprised to learn that my job here is to slow down the withdrawal."
"What are you talking about?"
"You must realize that most of the ground troops on this planet have been written off. There simply aren't enough ships to take off even a fraction of the forces committed here before the cluster jumps."
"We already figured that out for ourselves."
Maltov looked at Rance coldly but carried on. "As more and more units come in here looking for a way out, this area and the others like it will turn into a bloody nightmare with men fighting each other for places onihe last ships out. I have to hold off that degeneration for as long as possible."
"By mass executions?"
"Terror is a most effective method. The rank and file might as well stay more afraid of my men than they are of the Yal for as long as possible."
Rance didn't like the way he used the term "rank and file." "So what's the compromise?"
"That I let you onto one of the next e-vacs out, you topmen and the longtimers that you brought with you. In return, you let me run things my way."
Rance had known that it would probably come to this kind of deal.
"We need to get out as many of our experienced men as we can."
"You already brought your longtimers. They're the ones you need. They'll be the foundations on which you'll build your new battle groups."
This last remark caused Hark to start paying attention. He'd been one of the men who had followed Rance and Dyrkin into the control room, but up to that point he'd been standing in the background, not altogether grasping what was going on. After Maltov's remark about foundations, it had all fallen into place. Rance's abrupt departure from the battlefield and the fact that he'd taken the four of them with him hadn't been a matter of either self-preservation or mutual respect. He hadn't been bucking the Therem. Quite the reverse, he'd been acting exactly according to his programming. He was getting out his best men. After the Therem had gar-baged one army, these survivors would be the seeds from which a new one would be created. If Hark was angry at anyone, it was at himself for believing that anything could happen at random. Everything was planned.
Rance and Maltov were still in confrontation. Despite the armed men all around him, Maltov seemed to be getting the edge.
"So, do we have our compromise?"
Rance slowly nodded. It was probably the best deal that he'd get. The longtimers would certainly hate him for selling out the bulk of the men, but they'd have to share the guilt. They were getting out, too-if Maltov didn't double-cross all of them. /
"Yeah. It's a deal. When do we get an e-vac?"
"We'll go to the command dome and find out."
"Together?"
Maltov reached for his helmet. "Right.'
Outside, Kalgol and the ten troopers were still holding the entrance to the bunker. A heavy tropical rain was falling, and the men were up to their knees in a mist of spray. Water was streaming from their suits. The hilltop landing area was rapidly turning into a desolate sea of mud.
"This ain't going to help matters any."
There was a brief conference between Rance and the other topmen, and then the whole party of troopers, plus Maltov and an escort of six field police, set off for the command dome. As they splashed their way through the mud, Rance kept everyone bunched up. If they were close to the commandant, they were probably safe from a sneak attack by the headhunters.
They were almost exactly halfway between the bunker and the dome when the alarms went off.
"Enemy in the wire, third quadrant!"
The command channel suddenly came alive with voices.
"They're throwing everything at this one point! We can't hold them; we're spread too thin." "What is it? Chibas?"
"I can't take no more! I can't take no more!" "Cut that out!"
"There's men in among them!" "It must be some of our boys making a break for it!" "They're in gray camouflage armor, and they're firing at us."
"What the hell is going on over there?"
"There's men! Men fighting with the enemy!"
There was the sound of an explosion, and the shouting stopped. The troopers had halted. Rance was looking at Maltov.
"I suppose you expect us to go charging over there and plug the hole."
"If we're overrun, nobody will get off."
"Are you sending in your men?"
Maltov spoke into his communicator. "All available men! Go immediately to hold that breach in the third quadrant perimeter!"
He actually smiled at Rance. "Your move."
"You're right, goddamm it!"
Rance turned and faced the men. "Okay, you heard it. Let's shag it! Let's secure their forsaken perimeter for them. I want to see these men that have gone over to the enemy."
There was a good deal of cursing, but no one disobeyed the order.
"Come on! At the double! Fan out and don't bunch up. You all know the routine."
The men struggled through the quagmire, heading for the smoke and steam that were already billowing up from the firelight on the perimeter. They came under sporadic fire but kept on going. A man was hit and went down. Rance was glad that it wasn't one of his. He didn't want to lose any of his longtimers in these last minutes.
"They're hitting on a very narrow front. Maybe there ain't too many of them!"
"Don't count on it."
Rance didn't push his men too hard. There were a number of other squads converging on the same point. He didn't see why they should be the first to get there. The odds were that the first to arrive would be slaughtered.
"Easy now! Don't get crazy."
There were figures coming toward them out of the rain. Visibility was so poor that it was hard to make out exactly who or what they were, but they seemed roughly human in shape. Then they started firing. The flashes were those of Yal weapons. So these were the renegades. Another man went down. It was Dacker. Rance cursed. The troopers were returning fire. The human figures were halted in their tracks. One by one, they were cut down. At least Rance had the satisfaction of knowing that his longtimers were better than whatever these things were. A voice from the wire came over their communicators.
"They're pulling back! The chibas are pulling back!"
Just then the rain stopped. The troopers walked slowly forward. The mud sucked at their feet and ankles, and moisture hung like a hot shroud. Rance stopped beside Dacker. The trooper was quite dead. Half his chest was missing, and his suit was slowly curling away from his lifeless flesh. As Rance watched, the suit stopped moving. It, too, had died. There were bodies all over, but everyone was making for the ones in the now mangled, fungus-gray armor. Everyone wanted to know who they were. Men bent over and pulled helmets from these strange corpses.