Second Platoon had completed their three midnight speed marches, and on top of that, no training was scheduled for the evening. This, Romlar claimed, made it a good night for Carrmak to meet his challenge.
Carrmak agreed.
These matters were settled outdoors; the barracks had too little unoccupied space, too many sharp corners and hard edges. At the same time, for an entire platoon to go out and watch the fight would bring attention and the T'swa, so by nomination and the drawing of koorsa straws, five members were selected as judges. Then the two principals and five judges slipped outside by twos and threes, across the drill field to a space behind one of the gymnastics sheds. Despite the fair breeze, it was a reasonable evening for fighting. It wasn't raining, and Seeren, nearly full, shone blurrily through the overcast, a lamp in the sky. The temperature was mild for deep autumn.
Romlar was exceptionally strong, and he made a contest of it, but Carrmak's skill and explosive quickness were too much for him. They fought to three pins, and when it was over, shook hands and headed back for the barracks, Romlar telling himself that Carrmak was a good guy. If Carrmak ever got in trouble, he wouldn't let him down.
Carrmak didn't notice that some of the platoon weren't there till after he'd showered. "Where's Alsnor?" he asked, looking around. "And Esenrok? And Warden and Thelldon?"
It was Bressnik that answered, uncomfortably. "They've been planning a footrace—Esenrok and Alsnor—and they decided to do it this evening. Esenrok said we needed something to replace fighting, something that wouldn't get us in trouble with the T'swa."
He's got a point there, Carrmak thought, and frowned. "Planning a footrace? How come I never heard about this? And Esenrok runs like a damn yansa; there aren't three guys in the platoon that can beat him. Alsnor can't. How'd he get talked into this?"
"He might win if the race was long enough," Bressnik said. "Esenrok's pretty shortlegged."
"How far?"
Bressnik said nothing. It was Desterbi who answered this time. "They're running down the main road to the reservation boundary and back. Since the T'swa quit posting a gate guard, there's no reason why not. And it's not even against the rules."
"To the boundary . . . How would anyone know it was fair? If Esenrok got out of sight ahead of Alsnor, he could turn back short of the line and say he'd been there. While Alsnor, being honest, would go all the way. And he knows what Esenrok's like." Carrmak glanced around at the others. "Okay. What aren't you telling me?"
"We don't have to tell you nothing," Mellis countered.
"Shut up Mellis, or I'll slap the snot out of you, even if it gets us six more nights of sandbagging. Bressnik, what's the story?"
"Thelldon and Warden figured to borrow a hover car from the motor pool. Warden knows how to drive."
Carrmak clapped a hand against his forehead. "Borrow? You don't borrow a hover car. Not legally. The word is steal."
Bressnik talked doggedly on. "They'll drive out and wait at the boundary sign till both guys have gotten there. Then they'll come back and put the hover car right where they got it from. And if they'd had any trouble getting one, like they were locked or something, they'd have been back long before this; they left right after you guys went out to fight."
Bressnik paused, suddenly unsure. "Tunis, Carrmak," he said, "it'll be all right! The T'swa will never know. They don't post guards any more. It's not like the first few days, when there were guys wanting to run away."
Carrmak shook his head. Sometimes he wondered about the T'swa. "Let us hope. If they find out about this . . . How come I never heard about it?"
Mellis answered this time. "Esenrok said not to tell you. He said if you knew, you'd stop it."
"So you guys are taking orders from Esenrok now. That crazy son of a bitch. Second Platoon'll go from the best to the worst in the regiment."
"It's not that bad, Carrmak," Markooris put in. "It's going to keep us out of fights."
Carrmak had a strong feeling that it was that bad. Tunis! Let's steal a car to keep from getting in trouble! When Esenrok got back, he was really going to work him over. And Alsnor! Sometimes the guy seemed like the sanest one of the bunch, and sometimes he didn't have the brains of a weevil.
The road crossed the boundary in a meadow. A little half-ton utility truck sat parked by the sign, with Thelldon and Warden in the cab, waiting. The clouds had thickened, burying the moon, and the breeze had picked up. It was darker, and getting cold. Now and then Warden would start the propulsion unit and turn the heater on long enough to warm the cab. Thelldon fell asleep, and Warden was getting drowsy himself, but that was all right. When the runners came, they were supposed to slap the cab and yell their name.
Warden saw the first snowflake when he got out to urinate. Turning his back to the wind, he relieved himself, and was getting back in when he saw someone coming. "Thelldon!" he said sharply. "Wake up! One of 'em's here!"
He recognized the chesty figure. Esenrok loped up, yelled his name as he slapped the front of the cab, then turned and started back.
"Huh!" grunted Thelldon sleepily. "Didn't even take time to crow about getting here first."
"Maybe he just wants to get home as quick as he can. It's starting to snow."
"Snow?! Amberus! It was almost warm when we left."
"It's not now." Warden peered through the windshield and saw another couple of flakes drift past. If it never comes down harder than that, there won't be any problem, he told himself, but even as he thought it, they began to fall more thickly.
Jerym hadn't tried to keep up when Esenrok moved ahead of him at the start. For the first several miles though, the shorter youth was content to stay just a dozen or two yards ahead, seemingly as a matter of principle. Pacing himself to last the distance, Jerym realized. Pacing had to be Esenrok's biggest concern.
They knew the road well by now, day and dark, and at the five-mile crossing, Esenrok had speeded up, satisfied that he'd have no difficulty with the distance. Jerym saw him glance back, but made no attempt to keep pace. Let him think I can't, he told himself. Then, when he'd been unable to see Esenrok for a minute or so, Jerym too speeded up, to stay within striking distance, keeping a sharp eye ahead. Twice, in the next mile, he glimpsed Esenrok at the edge of visibility in the darkness ahead, and eased off just a bit. He was pleased at how well it went, how smooth his strides felt, and how fast.
It was getting darker; the clouds, he realized, were thickening.
When he reached the edge of the boundary meadow and hadn't met Esenrok on his return leg yet, he realized how close he'd stayed. Grinning, he wiped sweat from his eyebrows. He heard Esenrok's yell at the truck, and seconds later saw him coming back. They were about sixty yards apart, and he wasn't more then eighty yards from the boundary himself. Here was his chance to psych Esenrok.
The shorter youth didn't seem to notice him till he was twenty yards away. Then his head jerked up.
"You're looking tired, Esenrok!" Jerym called. "I'm gonna run you into the ground!" Then they were past each other.
Jerym didn't look back to see whether Esenrok speeded up or not. He knew without looking. Grinning, he yelled his name twenty yards before he slapped the truck, yelled it as loudly as he could.
The sight of Jerym startled Esenrok out of a reverie of what he'd taunt him with when they passed, perhaps a quarter mile ahead. Jerym's gibe stung him, and he speeded up, swearing mentally. The son of a bitch actually thought he could catch him! He'd show him! He hadn't begun to tap his reserves yet!
Jerym's voice reached him clearly when he shouted his name. Tunis but that had been quick! He'd have turned, be headed back strongly now. Esenrok speeded up just a little more. His legs might be short, he told himself, but they were strong and tough and fast. He felt the light impact of his boots, the smooth pull and thrust as he jerked the road past him more than four feet at a stride. Let Alsnor match this pace! he thought grimly.
Warden watched Jerym's form disappear in the darkness. "Well," he said, "we might as well head back."
"Just a minute. I've gotta take a leak."
Thelldon got out and stepped behind the truck, out of the wind. A minute passed. Warden opened his door. "What in Tunis' name is taking you so long?"
"It didn't want to come out in the cold for a minute. It's doin' all right now though." Seconds later, Thelldon came to the door on Warden's side. "You said you'd show me how to drive."
"Me and my mouth. Okay, c'mon." Warden slid over and Thelldon climbed in. When Thelldon was settled behind the wheel, Warden pointed. "That's the starter."
"I know. I watched you. And I push on it, right?"
"Right."
"And this is the heater switch?"
"You got it."
"And I push on this lever to make it go forward. What do I do to go backward? Pull it toward me?"
"You don't need to go backward. We're headed the right way."
"But suppose I did? If I'm learning to drive, I need to know."
"All right. Before you go any direction . . . Start it. I'll show you."
Thelldon started it, then turned the heater on all the way. "Set it at low," Warden told him, "or you'll cook us out of here."
He turned it down. Then Warden showed him the drive mode control. "The indicator's at neutral, see? That's where you want it before you shift into a drive mode. Next . . ."
Pointing, Warden gave him the instructions, which were simple enough, and Thelldon backed up a dozen feet. It was jerky and so was his stop, but not bad at all for the first time. Then Warden had him drive ahead slowly. There were lots of snowflakes now; in the headlights they seemed to slant into the windshield. When the truck approached the meadow's edge, Warden reached over and turned the power off. The AG let the vehicle down with a barely perceptible bump.
"What'd you do that for?" Thelldon asked.
"'Cause the road is narrow through the woods. I took responsibility for this thing when we stole it, and . . ."
Thelldon interrupted. "Borrowed it," he said.
"Whatever. Get out and change seats. I want to be sure I get it back in one piece, and before the T'swa know we took it, or they'll kill us both."
Thelldon got out and started around to the other side. The T'swa wouldn't kill us, he told himself. Maybe work us to death, but they wouldn't kill us outright. When he was in again, Warden restarted the vehicle and drove ahead into the forest.
With visibility limited, Warden took his time. It was several minutes before their headlights found a runner, loping down what looked like a white tunnel through the forest, while a suicide charge of snowflakes swooped headlong at their windshield. Without slowing, Jerym swerved to the edge of the roadway and they passed him. Eighty or a hundred yards beyond, Warden blew the horn, long and hard.
"What'd you do that for?" Thelldon asked.
Just ahead was a curve. Warden rounded it, and the headlights showed them Esenrok not more than forty yards ahead. He too swerved to let them by, and Warden, passing him, blared the horn again.
"He heard me blow before," he explained, "and he'll think it was when I passed Alsnor. He'll think Alsnor is right behind him. Shake the arrogant bastard up a little."
Thelldon nodded. Warden and Esenrok had fought a couple weeks earlier. Esenrok had won, and he'd crowed about it. A guy shouldn't crow like that. Not about a buddy.
As the truck passed, horn blowing, Esenrok felt a pang of anxiety. As much as he'd speeded up, Alsnor was gaining on him, or at least holding his own. Again he added speed; he was not going to let Alsnor beat him. Soon Esenrok was breathing heavily. Within a mile he was laboring, his legs tiring. Badly. Despite himself he slowed a little, and wondered how much he'd added to his lead.
The snow had begun to stick on the grass of the roadway, coating it with wet whiteness. He tried to ignore it, even though his boots weren't gripping the road as well anymore. Once he slipped, sprawled heavily, and lay there for ten or twelve seconds, chest heaving, melted snowflakes mingling with the sweat on his face. Then he got back up and began to run again. Slower, hobbling briefly. He was almost weeping with frustration, and after a minute speeded up once more, as much as he dared. Alsnor would be having trouble too, he told himself. If he hung tough and kept pushing hard, he'd still come in ahead.
Jerym wondered how far behind he was. The footing slowed him some—his boots didn't grip as well—but it wouldn't be any better for Esenrok. The snow was about three inches deep and falling more thickly than ever, when he saw Esenrok not more than thirty yards ahead, running with the choppy, labored stride of someone badly tired.
When he passed him, Jerym did not taunt. It didn't even occur to him. He loped on by without saying a thing, only glancing back briefly a few strides past. Esenrok's head was down; Jerym wondered if he'd even seen him. Surely he'd notice his tracks though; he was bound to.
On an impulse—the kind of impulse a T'swi does not ignore—Sergeant Dao put down his book and went to the door to look out. It was snowing, hard, and where there was grass, the ground was white. But it wasn't snow that had touched his psyche.
He put on his field jacket and left the neat hut he shared with the other noncoms assigned to 2nd Platoon. Left for the 2nd Platoon barracks. It was dark of course, except for the latrine windows. Quietly he opened the door and went in, and quietly walked down the long aisle between the rows of bunks. One, two, three, four bunks were empty. And Carrmak he sensed was still awake, despite the stillness of his blanketed form.
There was no sound from the latrine, and he did not bother to look in. It would have disrupted his night vision for the moment, and he did not question his ears, or the less standard, less precise sense that was similarly important to him.
He'd just turned when footsteps sounded on the stoop. The door opened and two youths came in, quietly they thought, starting toward their beds. Dao's soft voice stopped them in their tracks.
"Thelldon, Warden," he murmured, "come into the latrine. I want to talk with you. Carrmak, you come too."
Carrmak was on his feet and starting up the aisle before the other two, who stood frozen for a long moment. They had to pass Dao to enter the latrine, all but Carrmak keeping as far from him as the aisle allowed. Dao followed them through the door.
"Sit!" Dao said, gesturing at the row of commodes. They sat. Dao's eyes settled on the one he judged most vulnerable. "Thelldon," he murmured, "I want to hear your explanation." To Thelldon it sounded as if Dao already knew what they'd done.
"Sir, we were monitoring the race."
"Ah-h?"
"Yes sir. Esenrok thought that races could replace fighting."
"Umm."
"But Alsnor didn't trust Esenrok, so Warden and me, we went to monitor the race. And that's it. Really."
"I see. Where did you go to monitor it?"
"To the reservation boundary. We wouldn't ever have taken it otherwise."
Dao never blinked, never asked "taken what?"
"And we, Warden that is, parked it right where we got it from. In the exact spot. You can see for yourself."
"That won't be necessary. I'll take your word for it. Where are Esenrok and Alsnor?"
"They're still down the road, running. On their way back. We wanted to get the truck back as soon as we could. The last we saw of them was—" He turned to Warden. "Where? About a mile and a half, two miles from the boundary?"
Warden had been staring at Thelldon in shock. What in Tunis was making him run off at the mouth like that? At Thelldon's question, he shrugged. "Something like that," he answered.
Thelldon nodded. "About a mile and a half this side of the boundary. Esenrok was maybe a hundred, two hundred yards ahead. They've probably come another couple of miles since then."
Dao nodded calmly. "Thank you, Thelldon. You and Warden get ready and go to bed. I will talk with Carrmak now."
The two left. Dao looked at Carrmak without speaking for a moment. He could hear the sibilance of Warden's furious whispering to Thelldon in the sleeping quarters.
"So. Foot races to replace fighting? There is something to be said for that. Did you approve their taking a vehicle?"
Dao's face showed only curiosity, but Carrmak was sure that inwardly the sergeant was chuckling. "Sir, I didn't know about it," he said. "I was—out fighting."
"Fighting? Indeed. Put on some clothes, Carrmak, and come with me. I will trust Esenrok and Alsnor to arrive without my attention. They've gotten used to the roads after dark."
Glumly: "Yes sir."
Dao waited while Carrmak pulled on pants, shirt, and boots, pressed the boots shut, and slipped into his field jacket. They left together. Thelldon and Warden had shed boots and shirts. Now they headed back for the latrine. Barkum, whose bunk was next to the latrine door, joined them in the underwear he slept in.
"Tunis!" Barkum swore. "Carrmak's in real trouble now. And probably the rest of us." He paused. "I'm surprised Dao didn't take you guys along too."
"Where's he taking Carrmak?"
"I don't know. But he knows that Carrmak was in a fight tonight. I could hear 'em talking. I knew someone would see a vehicle was missing. Boy! I hope they don't do to us what they did to 4th Platoon."
The prospect seemed so grim, Warden forgot to continue reading Thelldon the riot act.
Outside, Dao felt uneasy, as if there was something else that needed to be taken care of. But the feeling came without direction, so he led Carrmak through the slanting flakes toward A Company's messhall. There'd be privacy there, and they had things to talk about.
They were almost there when they saw the glow of flames inside it, through the windows. The door opened and two youths slipped out, not seeing Dao and Carrmak at first. Dao rushed. One turned aside and fled. The other hesitated for just a moment, rattled, and when he did run, Dao cut him off and tackled him, his big hard body slamming the trainee to the ground. Dao was on his feet in an instant with the young man under a thick arm, feet foremost, and ran with him into the messhall.
Benches had been piled against one wall; paper and boxes burned beneath them. Carrmak was already slinging benches away from the blaze, benches that hadn't caught fire yet. Dao thrust the arsonist stumbling, then sprawling, in the direction of the kitchen.
"Get a fire extinguisher!" he bellowed, then pitched in with Carrmak. In half a minute more, all the benches not already on fire had been removed from the pile, leaving several burning. Behind the benches the wall was aflame, but the fire was not yet large. The arsonist arrived with a ten-gallon pot half full of water which he slung at the wall. He hadn't known where the fire extinguishers were. Dao did, and in another minute the fire was out.
Then Dao and Carrmak turned to look at the arsonist. He did not return their gaze.
When a tired Jerym arrived through seven inches of snow, the barracks was as quiet as if nothing had happened. He closed the door behind him and announced his arrival and victory, as agreed. Heads raised in the darkness, and— Someone got off Jerym's bed, someone large and black.
"Congratulations on your victory," Dao said. There was nothing sardonic in his voice except in Jerym's imagination. The sergeant stepped into the middle of the aisle, his voice taking them all in now. "There will be no celebration. You will all go back to sleep. Alsnor, come with me."
Jerym followed Dao out the door feeling as if he'd been slugged in the stomach.
The snow was falling more thickly than ever, the carryall's headlights penetrating it less than thirty yards, a cloud of white pluming behind. A mile from the compound they saw Esenrok lying in the road, white with the wet snow that stuck to him.
He was conscious, saw the headlights and raised his head. The moment that Dao stopped, Jerym was out, helped Esenrok to his feet and into the carryall. Esenrok began talking as soon as he was in.
"I'm all right," he said. "I was just resting. I'd have made it." He turned to Jerym then, "You told!"
Somehow Jerym let it lay, not answering.
"No," said Dao. "I was waiting for Alsnor when he came in. I already knew the story, stolen vehicle and all. Now lie down on the seat and be quiet."
Esenrok subsided and Jerym got in front beside Dao, who restarted the vehicle and turned it back toward the compound. When he pulled up in front of the dispensary, Esenrok was already asleep, and only semi-wakened when they took him in. He was soaked with sweat and melted snow.