“What’s he think?” Berg asked.
“I think he’s supporting staying,” Seeley said. “I only got what I’ve got from Pearson.” The latter was the CO’s radioman and could occasionally pick up solid info, “straight poop,” instead of the rumor that was the normal stuff of the bay.
“I think he’s off my Christmas card list,” Hatt said, lacing his fingers behind his head. “We took enough of a beating on Runner’s World. He’s probably got an argument for it, but… I’m about ready to get back to the World and chill. Hell, even on deployment you’ve got more security than we do doing this maulk.”
“We’re Marines,” Sergeant Jaenisch said. “We go where the CO says and we kill whatever the CO tells us to kill. And that’s pretty much the deal.”
“Semper Grapping Fi, Sergeant,” Hatt said. “In that case, I’m gonna get some rest. Because, you know, the CO might decide we need to fight an army of unstoppable Demons tomorrow.”
“In which case we say ‘Aye-aye’ and we kill Demons,” Jaen said. “End of story.”
“We’re staying,” the CO said, looking around at the gathered scientists and officers. “Sort of. Commander Weaver had several cogent arguments to advance. But we’re not going to be stupid about it. We’ve got the materials to set up a base camp. As soon as that is installed, we’re going to lift the ship and hold it in near space. Designated science personnel and a platoon of Marines will stay groundside to secure the survey. In the event of Demon attack, we will assess the possibility of being of use to the locals. If we cannot do anything about it, we will pick up all personnel and leave. However, as Commander Weaver pointed out, we have lasers on this ship. Those, right there, should be able to stop a Demon assault wave. We’ll have Miss Moon request a basing area near the palace. That will permit us to support to the last moment. Captain MacDonald? Comments?”
“Works for me, sir,” MacDonald said, nodding. “I don’t want to lose more Marines, obviously, but on the other hand… Hell, sir, I hate to run from a fight.”
“Oorah,” the first sergeant said.
“XO?”
“Escape from Saigon if it comes to it,” the XO said, nodding. “Let’s hope nobody gets photos this time.” The pictures of helicopters picking up the last personnel from the American embassy in Saigon were some of the worst from a PR perspective of the entire war.
“We can, quite literally, do the same thing with this boat,” the CO pointed out. “One day to get negotiations done and then we’ll drop the materials for the base. Captain MacDonald, you will remain on the ground. We’ll drop from time to time to rotate the platoon.”
“Yes, sir,” MacDonald said.
“We will remain for no more than two weeks,” the CO said. “We don’t have consumables for more. Dr. Chet?”
“Yes, Captain,” the doctor rumbled.
“I understand that you took over food testing from bio,” the CO said. “Any advances?”
“Oh, many,” Dr. Chet said. “So far, most of the foods I’ve found are consumable by animals. They have no useable vitamins in them, but they have many of the same sugars and peptides as Earth foods. There is one problem, though. There is a possibility of long-term side effects. I would not suggest permitting the food to be eaten without widespread testing. Food allergies is another issue. Those, however, can be dealt with. Things like prions cannot. If food is eaten, I would suggest that people stick to the grains and fruits. Less possibility of prion poisoning. Miss Moon has reported eating some of the fruit that I cleared with no ill effects. And she is… finicky.”
“Tell her next time to ask me first,” the CO said. “Okay, come up with a list of acceptable consumables. We can get protein and sugars from them, right?”
“Oh, yes,” Dr. Chet said. “All the same amino acids as Earth and the same simple sugars. Benefits of a Type One biosphere. And they, of course, can eat us. But no vitamins. At least, none that I’ve found so far.”
“XO, if we take on local foodstuffs, how long can we stay?”
“Until we run out of parts, sir,” the XO said. “About two months at a guess. Depends on what breaks first. And there’s always duct tape. The sub service proverbially runs on duct tape.”
“We’re due back on Earth before then,” the CO said. “And we don’t want to be overdue. It would cause too much concern. Very well, prepare to drop a ground base. See if we can get some cleared fruits at least. Some fresh food would be welcome.”
“I’ll coordinate with Miss Moon on both, sir,” Captain MacDonald said.
“Anything else we need to discuss?” the CO asked, looking around. “Commander Weaver, head back to the palace and pass on the plan. Let’s get cracking.”
“No indicators of Demon activity?” Lieutenant Souza said.
The ship did have one intel specialist, a Navy seaman who had been compiling all the information about the Demons that was available. Jeff Waggoner had been a very busy boy.
“No, sir,” the seaman said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. With his crewcut and large ears his head looked like nothing so much as a giant vase. The Coke-bottle glasses and tiny office scattered with paper simply completed the look that defined the “Intel Geek.” “I’ve only got two indicators of Demon activity and those distant from our position. Our sector appears to be clear of Demon activity at this time, sir.”
“So the boat should be clear of Demon activity for at least two days?” Lieutenant Souza said.
“Unless indicators change radically, yes, sir,” Waggoner said, pushing his glasses back up.
“Commander Beeel is a male?” Lady Che-chee asked.
She had returned to Court shortly after the first meeting and after a brief meeting with the queen had become the primary liaison with the humans. In that role, she was trying to impart some aspects of Cheerick society on Miriam while being shocked and dismayed in what she was discovering about humans.
“Why, yes,” Miriam said. “Most of our military is male. There are females in it, many, and some of them of fairly high level. But it is still a primarily male profession. When we were in the islands we encountered an all-male party and your son is a warrior, isn’t he?”
“Well, yes,” Lady Che-chee said. “But he’s a warrior. He will never be a commander! Males are far too flighty. I mean, look at his silly display when you landed! I had come to understand you were a female and your bodyguard is a male, but I thought that natural.”
“What are you talking about?” Chief Warrant Officer Miller asked.
“Male-female relationships in Cheerick society,” Miriam said delicately, then turned back to Lady Che-chee. “Chief Miller is a bit more than my bodyguard. I know nothing about war and would not begin to think I do. He is not only a very famous warrior on our planet but one of the ship’s senior advisers on ground combat. The Commander Weaver is a male, the ship’s captain, Captain Blankemeier is a male, and even the person I referred to as our queen is, in fact, a male. For now. It is possible that the next will be a female. We rotate our highest position every four years.”
“How do they learn their jobs?” Lady Che-chee asked, aghast. “It takes at least that long for a queen to become accustomed to her position! Most of her decisions in her first four years are awful if she doesn’t listen to her advisers.”
“They serve in lesser capacities prior to that job,” Miriam said. “And… they are not born to it. They are chosen by the full body of the citizens in a process called democracy. They contest for the job and then are voted upon.”