GENELLAN: PLANETFALL(174)

"What did you see, Sandy?" Dawson asked. Worry pinched her features. "Is it still burning?" She moved back from the cave entrance.

"Still burning," Tatum fretted. "It's been over four hours." After a few paces the ceiling lifted high enough to where even Tatum could stand, but he sat down heavily next to Goldberg and took Honey into his lap. Everyone stayed close for warmth. Tatum would not let them start a fire until darkness could obscure the smoke.

"What should we do?" Fenstermacher asked. Lee and her infant lay next to him, both covered in furs and fast asleep.

"Sit and wait," Tatum replied. "We're on our own."

"What happens if the bugs win?" Fenstermacher asked.

"No way!" Tatum shot back. "We'll tear them to pieces."

"How can you say that?" Fenstermacher asked. "The big uglies have the firepower. Wonder why Buccari decided to fight?"

"Because the fleet's back, and judging from what happened, it's a good thing she did," Wilson said. "As long as we're not captured, we can still be rescued."

"How long?" Dawson said. "How much longer can we hold out?"

"This is our planet," the taciturn Tookmanian suddenly interjected. "The kones don't know it, but it's ours. It's—it's our moral right."

"Moral right, Tooks?" Fenstermacher huffed. "Stick to your sewing!"

"Morality has nothing to do with it," Wilson said. "It's called survival."

"In the long run they are the same," Tookmanian replied, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Silence fell over the haggard survivors.

* * *

Buccari worked the soreness from her back and the burning ache from her old injury; it felt as if she had sand in her shoulder socket. Her hair was singed and brittle from laser strikes, her cheek blistered. But most of all, she mourned Hudson.

"Tonto says we took out maybe six or seven of them," MacArthur said. "That leaves only fifteen or sixteen. That's a pretty good day."

"So much for the element of surprise," Buccari said. "The rest will be a lot harder to hit." She looked around at the cold, tired faces. The silvery moon was three-quarters full, giving everyone a sinister and shadowy visage. She puzzled over their next step. "Ammo status?" Shannon demanded.

"Two hundred eight rounds standard—thirty pistol," O'Toole answered.

"Phew!" MacArthur replied. "Get ready to fix bayonets." "Can't we steal some of their weapons?" O'Toole asked.

"We need another breather canister for Et Silmarn," Buccari said. She looked at the big kone. Et Silmarn stirred, pushing off the furs.

"It-ah . . . makes sense.. .for me-e-e to go back-ah," Et Silmarn said. "It too cold, Sharl. My fuel is gone in five days or less. I am burden to-ah you." He stood on his four limbs and stared at the humans, the moon's reflection on his helmet visor making it brightly opaque. "Even if could-ah get-ah more fuel tanks, it-ah would-ah only be matter of time. I am dead-ah either way." He turned and ambled slowly downhill.

"Et Silmarn," Buccari said firmly. The scientist turned. "We will be rescued. When my people come, we will take you with us. We can make fuel for your breathing unit."

"But-ah will they come in time?" the kone asked.

"More fuel," Buccari said grimly. "We'll get more fuel." She turned to Shannon. "Sarge! The night's ours. It's too cold for the kones, but they'll have posted sentries. We're going back to the lake and liberate as many fuel tanks and weapons from those sentries as we can."

The Marines rumbled their approval.

"Yes, sir," Shannon replied, squinting up at the gibbous moon.

"Yes, sir," MacArthur said. He had been sitting quietly. "But with all due respect, Lieutenant..." He looked at Buccari, his eyes shrouded in the blackness of moon shadows. "With all due respect, I think, er.. .I recommend you hand off that carbine to one of the men, er . . . one of the Marines, and that you lead our konish friend, here, and the horses, up to the hunting camp. Someone has to get that stuff where it can do some good, and it makes more sense to have the Marines—not the generals—doing the fighting." He said the last sentence rapidly, as if afraid she would interrupt.

Buccari stifled a rush of anger. That certainly had not been her plan—but it made sense. There were not enough weapons to go around, and the supplies needed to reach the rest of the crew. MacArthur had a point. And, besides, he had promoted her to general.

"Okay, Sarge, I hate to admit it, but Mac's right. You're in charge," she said. "Good luck, good hunting, and bring everyone back with you." She turned to the kone. "Et Silmarn, you do not have a good choice. Sergeant Shannon will try to get more fuel. If he is not successful, then you must decide where you wish to die."