There were about twenty Rumi, less than they had thought, fleeing
across the open fields behind the burning huts. They were firing as
they ran and giving out those queer yelping cries of theirs. Three or
four of them fell and then Norton was shouting, calling back his men
to organize fire fighting parties.
"Captain! Captain, let's go after those guys. We can cut them off
before they get to the grasslands," Terrence yelled.
"Get your men after these fires, O'Mara. We can't let them spread."
There was nothing to do but obey but he delayed long enough to empty
his automatic in the general direction of the fleeing Rumi. Then he
turned and yelled, "Harrigan! Sergeant Harrigan! Where in the devil is
that...." There was a crashing sound behind him and Harrigan stumbled
through the smoke and came down on his foot, all three hundred pounds
of him.
Later, as the last smoking embers of the fire were being smothered by
industrious squads of Narakans with buckets and shovels, Terrence
limped back across the square with Bill Fielding.
"We should have gone after those lousy scum," Bill said, "They may cut
back around the town again and give the battalion some trouble on the
river road."
"Don't you think I know it! As fast as the Greenbacks can move when
they want to, we could have caught the lot of them before they got
into the grasslands. But Norton was worried about the fires! Of
course, we're going to burn all these buildings tomorrow or the next
day but Norton was afraid the Residency would catch fire."
"Probably didn't want his sweetie's fancy clothes to burn."
"They got Wilson, you know."
"Good Lord! Dead?"
"Right between the eyes. They almost got all four of us."
Fielding took his heavy battle helmet off and pushed back the glass
visor of his radiation helmet to wipe the perspiration and dirt off
his face. "Well, maybe Norton didn't want us to catch those damn cats.
Maybe he figured he owed them that much."
O'Mara shielded his eyes as he said, "Beta's setting. It'll be night
in a couple of hours and we can walk around without this blasted
radiation armor for a while."
"Yeah, and we can start looking for a full scale night attack as soon
as good old Alpha hides his hoary head."
"If you see O'Shaughnessy, tell him I want to see him, will you? I'm
going to stop at the schoolhouse for a few minutes."
Surprise spread across Bill's freckled face, "Not the school teacher?
Not you! Buddy, you've been in Dust Bin too long. You've been on
Naraka too long. You'll be attending services at the Chapel next."
Terrence muttered a few old Anglo-Saxon words under his breath and
limped off in the direction of the school building.
* * * * *
The Reverend Ames Goodman was the smallest Narakan that Terrence had
ever seen. The Johnathian missionary from Little Texas was somewhat
under two hundred and fifty pounds which was slight for a Greenback.
He also spoke the best English except for some of the big shots in New
Chicago. Ordinarily he was a composite of superstitious reverence and
natural dignity which Terrence had always found admirable. Today,
however, he couldn't have appeared more ludicrous if he had tried. He
was dressed for a visit to the Residency in a white duck suit which
was too small and out of which he bulged in a number of surprising
places.
He and Joan Allen were talking half in English and half in Narakan as
the lieutenant entered. The minister had a painfully surprised look on
his round green face.
"I hope we didn't bust up your school too much, Miss Allen."
"If you are quite finished with your shooting and cursing, Lieutenant
O'Mara, perhaps you have time to explain to Rev. Goodman and me what
this talk about evacuation means."
As she spoke, she brushed stray strands of black hair up under her
radiation helmet. For the first time in the six months that she had
been in charge of the orphan school in Dust Bin, Terrence decided that
maybe she was pretty after all. He wasn't sure whether it was the high
color which excitement lent to her usually pale face or if Bill
Fielding was right in saying he had been on Naraka too long, but Joan
Allen was beginning to look good to him. At the moment the feeling
wasn't at all mutual.
"Is it true that the Defense Force is pulling out and leaving the rest
of us to the Rumi?"
Terrence took off his helmet and let the rapidly cooling air strike
his head. "Not exactly, teacher," he said, "The Fifth is pulling out
but so are all the Terrans in Dust Bin. Everyone's being ordered back
to Little Texas. That's why the _Sun Maid_ is standing by."
"All the Terrans, Lieutenant? What about the people here who depend on
us? What about my children?"
O'Mara somehow couldn't quite look either of them in the face. He
muttered something about having to get back to his command post and
started out the door. Joan called after him as she noticed his limp,
"Lieutenant, I'm sorry, I didn't know you have been wounded."
"Oh, it's nothing ... nothing," he said, hurrying away, his neck
reddening from something more than the attention of Beta Centauri. How
in the name of Naraka's sixty devils could you tell a woman that one
of your own non-coms had stepped on your foot and nearly broken your
instep?
The battalion straggled into Dust Bin during the night. It hadn't
exactly fought its way back from the river but had had enough
casualties to make the men nervous and jumpy without tempering them at
all. One of the casualties had been Lt. Colonel Upton. Now Major
Chapelle was in command. The men of the battalion were nervous but
Chapelle was riding on the thin edge of panic. He ordered everyone on
board the _Sun Maid_ at once and then countermanded the order and
formed a defense perimeter around the town. He threw out patrols which
were unable to contact any Rumi on the Dust Bin side of the river.
The next morning Terrence was summoned to Government House for an
officers' conference. As he hurried along its single street, Dust Bin
was in a state of confused and helpless excitement. The three or four
hundred Narakans who made up its population were all in the street or
square. Many of them were carrying their belongings on their shoulders
and looked as if they were only waiting for an order of some kind to
send them scurrying off toward the Suzi swamps.
As O'Mara reached the veranda of the Residency, Rev. Goodman was
speaking with Joan Allen by his side. His words were aimed at
Chapelle, Norton and a large gray-eyed man whom Terrence recognized as
the Captain of the _Sun Maid_.
"When you came, you earthmen in your great ships, the Narakan was a
hunted creature on his own planet and had been back as far as he could
remember. You drove off the Rumi and took parts of the planet for your
own use but you did not hunt the Narakan. You brought him out of his
swamps and taught him much; to wear clothes, to till the ground and
many other things. You even gave him your religion. But now the Rumi
have returned and you say you are not strong enough to hold all the
planet."
* * * * *
Major Chapelle was impatient, "That's right, Reverend, there's too
many of them. The garrison just isn't big enough to hold everything
and it's too far back to Earth for us to expect any reinforcements for
a year or even longer."
Norton took over. "You're an educated ... ah ... man, Goodman. You see
what the problem is. We can't hold everything so we've got to cut our
losses. All of the most important resources and towns are in the
Little Texas area and so we're pulling back into there."
"I see. Yes, I understand. The people of Dust Bin are part of the
losses that must be cut."
"Now, now. Don't put it that way, Reverend. The natives can always
take refuge in the swamps, you know."
"Yes. I suppose it must be so. Back to Little Texas for the Terrans
and back to the swamps for the Narakans. Back to living naked in the
mud, back to fishing for our food and back to thinking only of the
next meal."
"It really isn't that bad," Chapelle said. "As soon as the situation
adjusts itself, the Terran forces will be coming back. Then you can
come out of your hiding places and resume your regular life again."
"Yes. And in the meantime our only problem will be to stay out of the
way of the Rumi."
"I don't believe that they will go out of their way to harm you. It's
the Terrans they want to drive out."
Suddenly the Reverend Goodman was shaking his fist in the Major's
face, forgetting in his excitement both his manners and his correct
English. "Not hurt! Not hurt, Mr. General? No, they not hurt, they
just eat! They favorite food is Naraka steak."
"Now, now, calm yourself," Norton put a hand on Goodman's shoulder.
"There's plenty of room in the _Sun Maid_ for you and the rest of your
people will be safe enough in the swamps."
"What about my children?" demanded Joan Allen.
"Children, Miss Allen? I don't know.... Oh, yes, you mean the poly ...
the children. Why, I assume they will go with their parents."
Joan placed a small fist firmly on each of her slim hips. "Major, all
the children in the mission school are orphans. They have no parents.
None of them have ever lived in the swamps."
"Ah yes. But I hardly see what we can do about it, Miss Allen."
"Well, Major, I'm going to tell you what I'm going to do about it.
Unless those kids are loaded on the _Sun Maid_ in place of some of
this junk," she waved a hand at the piles of luggage which belonged to
Mrs. Wilson, "I'm going to stay with my charges and leave you with the
problem of explaining to the Mission Board and to the Bishop of New
Chicago just why you left me behind."
At the mention of the extremely influential Johnathian Bishop the
Major looked more worried than ever. After a short conference with
Norton, he turned to Joan.
"Very well, Miss Allen. The children will go in the airship. I'm sure
that Mrs. Wilson will be only too glad to leave some of her clothes to
make room for them."
"Thank you, Major." Joan said, making no attempt to gloat over her
victory.
"Now, Captain, I understand that most of the military stores have been
destroyed and that the men are ready for embarkation," Chapelle went
on hurriedly, addressing himself to the captain of the _Sun Maid_. "We
will have about three hundred and twenty, no ... about three hundred
and thirty passengers for you."
The captain shook his head doubtfully, "It's a big load. I hope we can
make it without any trouble."
"Well, then," Chapelle went on, "We'll go aboard during the day after
we complete the destruction of the stores and facilities. The native
troops under Lieutenant O'Shaughnessy will cover our embarkation and
then convoy the civilians as far as the Suzi swamps. Afterwards they
will march overland to Fort Craven on the Little Texas border."
Terrence had never had any urge to be a hero. He had always pictured
himself retiring at a ripe old age as a Colonel or Brigadier and
raising canal oranges on Mars, but suddenly the memory of the Narakan
Rifles rushing down the street with bugles blaring and flag waving
right into the Rumi line of fire rose before him. The thought of
O'Shaughnessy, even with his new lieutenant's commission, leading the
blundering troops along the two hundred miles to Fort Craven was too
much for him.
"I beg your pardon, Major," he heard himself saying, "But as the
Narakan Training Officer, I think that I should remain in command of
the unit in its overland march."
The Major was dumfounded. Norton looked as if he were sure the Narakan
climate had proven too much of a strain for the lieutenant.
"Lieutenant O'Mara, are you sure...." began Chapelle.
"Are you nuts, O'Mara? Do you know what you're asking for?" demanded
Norton.
"Yes, sir. I feel that since Colonel Upton appointed me Training
Officer for the Narakan Rifles, it is my duty to stay with them until
I am relieved."
Chapelle's look of astonishment had changed to one of relief. It would
be far easier to explain the hurried abandonment of the Narakan Rifles
to the native representatives at New Chicago if a Terran officer were
to remain with them.
"Well," he said, "I could, of course, relieve you of your
responsibility but if you feel that...."
"I do, sir." Terrence said quickly lest he be tempted to back out.