21

“So, those are the Zfthu,” Randigold said as they looked out over the nearby village.

Most of them were going about their daily business, but more than a few seemed focused on the castle.

Rev couldn’t help but see the analogy to a medieval European feudal society, with the castle on the hill and the population in much worse living conditions below.

Maybe “serf” was the accurate translation after all.

“I still think we should go down and make their acquaintance,” Randigold said.

“I told you, we’re not here to get notches on our bedposts.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said. “I swear, you’re getting to be less and less fun in your old age, Sergeant Major.”

Rev just sighed. Normally, no sergeant major in the Corps would take crap from a sergeant, but that was Randigold, and even without their rot tying them together, they went back a long way. And he liked her.

He’d briefly considered going out to make FC with the Zfthu, but with a full contact team inbound, he knew he should give them the opportunity. But while he was willing to let them do it, he wasn’t going to cede his security responsibility. So, he’d asked the Po for somewhere he could look over the village. Their guide took them to what might be battlements in a human castle, where there was a platform Rev hadn’t noticed before. And from this vantage, he could see much of the Zfthu village.

There weren’t any obvious danger areas, but the narrow, winding streets could pose a problem. He made a mental note to insist that the meeting be between the castle and the first buildings. If the humans entered the village proper, it would be extremely difficult to extract them through those streets should things go wrong.

When he told that to Randigold, she said, “Nothing’s going wrong, Sergeant Major. The dragons are their . . .”

She paused as if trying to think of the right term. Rev immediately thought “masters,” but he didn’t voice that.

“. . . teachers,” she ended up saying. “And sure as shooting, the dragons have higher tech if they need to, you know, take any action to keep the peace.”

“Maybe.”

But their reaction to the word “soldiers” still had Rev concerned.

He’d been so relieved at not being killed offhand that he’d immediately created positive impressions of the Po. But now, with a bit of space between them, he had to reevaluate and take stock.

What did they know about the Po?

Unfortunately, not much. Yes, they seemed friendly enough. But they could be putting on a show. And then there was the soldier reaction. Most of all, though, was the apparent relationship with the Zfthu. Why was there such a disparity in how they lived?

If the Zfthu were uplifted into the role of slaves . . .

Not your business, Reverent. Let Njuguna and her people figure things out.

Randigold took out a combat rat from her pocket, broke it in half, and offered one of the pieces to Rev. He scowled as he took it. After twenty-three years in uniform, he should have been used to combat chow by now, but that hadn’t happened. He still hated it.

He lifted his mask, took a bite, then lowered it, remembering to breathe out to clear it.

The bar was supposedly almond cream flavored, but it still tasted like sawdust. He had to choke it down.

Randigold heard him cough and then said, “I hope we can eat the food down here.”

“Not likely. Just because the Zfthu look kinda human, that doesn’t mean we can eat their grub. It’s alien, with who knows what DNA and everything else it has.”

“We could eat the food on Desig,” Randigold said.

“Eat and not be poisoned, you mean. No nutrition.”

“At this stage, all I care is if it tastes good.” Then she added, “And what about Scoozy Whip? That’s made from Koralle, right?”

Rev hadn’t had Scoozy Whip in years, ever since he was a preteen. It was a pretty horrendous concoction, but he started salivating at the remembered love he had for the stuff.

“They say it is, but the plant’s been heavily modified, and most of the ingredients are good ’ole Earth food. It was just marketing.”

Randigold hmphed, then said, “I didn’t know that. I thought I was eating alien food.”

“Marketing.”

Randigold had a good point, though. This planet belonged to two other races, so terraforming was out of the question. If humans were ever going to have a presence here, they’d either have to bring all their own food—like they did on Clickerland—they’d have to get permission to grow Earth plants, or they’d be able to use native hydrocarbons to run their food fabricators.

He almost asked Punch for his opinion—something he hadn’t done for at least a month. He changed that to make a mental note to talk to him when he could but then chuckled. Whether humans could settle on this planet or not wasn’t his worry. That wouldn’t come until long after he was gone.

“Something funny?” Randigold asked.

“No. Not really.”

Rev’s comms lit up.

“Hey, Sergeant Major. Did you enlist anyone into the Marines yet?”

“Not yet, Lieutenant. But I’ll do it before you grab them for the Navy.”

“I bet you will. Anything I need to know about the LZ?”

Rev had initially designated the open space between the castle and the village as the landing zone for the two shuttles, but the Po requested that they land in the courtyard again. That would mean 403, with Lieutenant Nissen piloting, would land first, then take off, leaving enough room for 409 to come in on autopilot.

Rev didn’t like it. Doing it that way would limit mobility and leave both shuttles more vulnerable. But Nyad and Njuguna overruled him, saying that could be taken as an insult to the Po.

For a moment, Rev considered fighting it, and as the military commander on the ground, he could push it. But the Po showed no signs of hostility, and Randigold seemed to think he was being overly cautious. He decided to save his battles for when they really might matter.

From the battlements, he could see both into the village and, if he turned around, into the courtyard. He knew enough about terminal guidance to know what Nissen was looking for.

“I’m in the battlement-looking tower on the side facing the village. Call it thirty meters. There are two more matching battlements on this side. The main wall is at sixteen or seventeen meters, and you’ll have to clear that, so come in from the planetary north, and you should be fine. The big obstacle is the castle proper. The central spires have to be a hundred meters high, and the walls next to the courtyard are about sixty.”

“Side clearance as I come in?”

“About forty meters. Another fifty lengthwise.”

That made things a little tight, but it was more than enough room for an experienced pilot with an AI assist to put a shuttle down.

Pilots who didn’t ask questions about their LZs were often dead pilots.

“That jives with what I’ve got from the orbital photos.”

“What’s your ETA?”

“Fourteen minutes, give or take.”

“Roger that. See you on the ground.”

“Not for long, Sergeant Major. I’m jumping back up to orbit until we see how things shake out.”

“With all due respect, that’s, uh, not very smart, Lieutenant. Remember Seventy-one, where we had to wait for you?”

“Not my choice. Orders.”

Which meant Nyad.

I’m gonna haf’ to talk to him about this.

“OK, well, hopefully, we can revisit this.”

“See you soon. Four-zero-three, out.”

“They’ll be here in fourteen mikes,” Rev told Randigold.

“Are we going to watch from up here?”

Rev considered it. Meeting and spending four hours with the Po had been stressful just for the simple matter of thinking about every word he said and trying not to make a diplomatic faux pas. It had been a relief when they’d left the two of them alone. He could stay here and let Njuguna handle things when they landed, but he knew that wouldn’t cut it. He had to have some sort of diplomatic handover.

“No, let’s go on down and greet them.”

They made their way to the ground level and across to the main door.

Rev spotted a Po and asked, “Do you know where our guide is? Our shuttle will be landing in about ten minutes.”

“We know.”

Of course, they know. They can hack into our battle projection. We’re not going to be able to sneak in undetected with a shuttle.

The Po didn’t answer the first part of the question as he walked away.

“Rude,” Randigold said.

But within a couple of minutes, their guide returned. The Po looked very similar to Rev, but he was beginning to notice some differences. In their guide’s case, it was the brighter purple streaks in the crest that swept back over its head.

“We’ve got you in sight,” Lieutenant Nissen said. “Is the LZ still clear?”

“Roger. All clear.”

A few moments later, 403 appeared over the north wall. Nissen brought her in as softly as a maple leaf falling to the ground. The back ramp opened, and a moment later, Njuguna came striding out. She spotted the welcoming party, faltered a moment, then strode over to meet them.

“Welcome, Dr. Njuguna. This is . . .”

Rev still didn’t know its name or if it even had one.

“. . . our guide.”

“This is everyone?” Njuguna asked, obviously surprised.

And a little bit miffed if Rev was reading her correctly.

“There will be more inside.”

She frowned but said, “Thank you for the welcome.”

She touched her collar, and a moment later, the rest of the passengers started to disembark.

Quite the show, there Njuguna. Too bad there isn’t an audience.

He didn’t really resent her grand entrance, which, of course, was being recorded for posterity. Things hadn’t gone as she probably expected when she signed on. Most of the time, she never stepped foot on their target planets.

This was finally a moment in history, and she wanted to make her mark.

One of the civilians ran forward, carrying a small holocam. As soon as he reached them, she asked, “Shall we?”

“The rest? Do you want to wait for them?” Rev asked.

“I’ll go ahead. Everyone else will stay here until we have a plan of action.”

She leaned in and whispered into Rev’s ear, “Do they really understand Standard?”

“Yes, they do.”

She turned back to their guide and said, “I am Doctor Yellie Njuguna, the head of our Council of Humanity mission. I am pleased to be part of this initial contact, and I hope it will cement friendly and mutually beneficial relationships between our three peoples.”

Rev glanced over his shoulder. Neither Punch nor a Kanter had gotten off the shuttle. They must be on the next one, but this contact wasn’t just between humans and the two races on the planet. The Kanters were a different race, and Punch—or Punt Six—was supposedly another group outside of Titan’s control.

Their guide said, “Welcome, Doctor Njuguna. I hope our future relationships are good as well. And now, if you’ll follow me?”

Njuguna was in her element, her posture exuding pride as she stepped off, her holographer at her side. Rev started to follow when she stopped him.

“I think I can handle this, Sergeant Major. If you can manage the landings?”

“Sure thing, ma’am. I’m fine here.”

He watched them disappear into the building, wondering what recordings were going to make it back to humanity. Would it be his and Randigold’s body cams or the holographers?

Not that Rev really cared, and he was just as happy to stay here in the courtyard.

Nissen gave him a wave as he took off. In a few minutes, 409 would land, and hopefully, with Punch aboard.

His battle buddy might not still be attached to him, but his mind was the same as ever, and Rev really wanted to hear his take on this place.

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