Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(11)

"How long 'fore we start building something, ser?" asked one of the younger marines standing behind Ayrlyn.

"That's not the first priority," snapped Ryba. "The lander shells are fine for now. What we need to get in the ground is food. We also need to survey the forest and the meadow here to see what's likely to be edible, while we still have the analyzer and some power."

Nylan nodded.

"And... we'll still need timber of some sort to roof, floor, and brace the engineer's tower."

"We might not need planks except for flooring and bracing," Nylan volunteered. "There's a dark gray slate that splits into sheets pretty easily."

"Good ... I think."

"What's in the emergency grow-paks?" Saryn leaned back on the flat stone, stretching out the leg with the cast.

"Maize, although I don't know about whether the stream will supply enough water ... potatoes that ought to do well in a cold climate, some high-protein beans."

"Get the potatoes in first," suggested Nylan.

"Potatoes?" asked Mertin, stepping up beside Ryba.

"They grow just about anywhere, and we could exist on them with only a few supplements. The ground seems all right." The engineer poured the rest of the water from the bucket into the pot. "They keep better than some of the other plants, although you could dry and grind the maize into a flour, I think."

"Seems?" asked Saryn.

Nylan shrugged. "It might take generations to determine if all the trace elements are there, but I'd bet they are."

Ryba looked at him.

"If it's not perfectly planoformed, it's a natural duplicate of a hot humanoid world. It feels right."

"Are we going to rely on feel?"

"We'd better figure out something to rely on besides high technology that won't be around much longer."

"Feel.. ." Ryba frowned. "Let's finish eating and get to work on those fields. The growing season can't be very long here. Once we get everything we can planted, then we'll worry about game and timber and longer-range priorities."

Fierral nodded, stiffly, like the marine force leader she remained.

Saryn straightened on the rock where she sat and winced.

Nylan glanced uphill across the starflower-strewn grass and bushes-and rocks-to the staked outline of the foundations of what he hoped would be a tower... if they could get to it. If the locals didn't show up in force first... If... He clamped his lips together, ignoring the sidelong look from Ryba.





VIII



THE EARLY-MORNING sun glared out of the blue-green sky and bathed the sloping meadow, and the figures who toiled there, glinting off the few exposed metal sections of the lander shells and off the small spring that fed the stream.

Ryba stood above it all, on the top of the rocky ledges above the dampness of the meadows in the wind that blew steadily from the northwest. With her stood Fierral and two marines. All four looked to the northeast, down the rocky ridge line.

"There ... you can see them, at the base of the ridge there. It's almost as good as a road." Fierral pointed. "They're pretty clearly headed here. And there are a lot of them."

"I'd expected a little more time before anyone found us. I wonder how they knew." Ryba frowned, then shrugged. "I suppose that's not the issue now,"

"What do you want us to do?" asked the blue-eyed force leader.

"Act innocent. Keep the sentries in place and use the mirrors to signal me when they get close. Position the rifles there in the rocks where you can sweep them if you have to. Try not to use them until you really have to. I'd rather save the ammunition. Make sure the rest of the marines have their sidearms with them. We only have the pair of rifles?"

"Just the two," Fierral affirmed.

"Give one to each of your best snipers-besides you- and put one where you are and the other on the far end of that downhill clump of rocks."

"Not a bad cross fire." The force leader nodded.

"Then set up the rest of the marines where they can take cover quickly if they have to. They might have archers or something."

"I didn't see anything like that through the glasses," Fierral said slowly. "You don't think they're peaceful?"

"With more than fifty horses in a primitive culture? That's the equivalent of a half-dozen mirror towers." Ryba snorted. "No ... they're not peaceful, but we'll pretend they are, and I'm betting they'll be trying for the same impression, too."

Fierral raised her eyebrows, just as flaming red as her hair, but said nothing and waited for Ryba to explain.

"It's simple. The way the approach runs here, you have to come up the ridge, and that's exposed. Nylan was right. It's a good spot for a tower-or a castle. The rocks behind there are too sharp to bring horses through, and too steep. So"-Ryba shrugged again-"without modern weapons, it would be hard to take. But first we have to survive to build it. Anyway, they'll pretend to come in peace, unless we attack first, just to get close, and they think we'll be drawn in."

"Men," laughed Fierral.

"They may be transparent, squad leader, but they're still dangerous." Ryba turned. "The engineer will be doing the prep work for his tower, and I'll keep a handful busy with the ditching. We might as well do something while we're waiting. It will be a while. They'll walk the horses up here so that they're fresh for the battle they're pretending they don't want. Try not to kill the horses. We'll need them."