I came over the hill and joined the small band of rebels that were gathered on the hillside for a last stand. A blonde woman in dirty fatigues stood out among the dark-haired and dark-skinned natives. She was sitting with a rifle on her lap, a native slugthrower that was as dirty as she was. I reached her side and realized I was wrong. It was dull, without a shiny surface, but it was in perfect condition.
Looking at her face, I could remember that she had come down with us in the initial group of advisors. I couldn’t recall her name, which meant that she was one of the marine guards. Her uniform had been perfect Starfleet at the time, but now it was native and heavily soiled with wear.
She noticed my attention and looked up at me. “You should sit down, sir,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Sir,” I echoed. “Aren’t you going to salute?”
She looked through me, past me to the small grove behind my left shoulder. “The sniper in those trees would shoot you, sir.” The barrel of her weapon was raised and pointed that way. I hastily sat down.
“Going native?” I asked, trying another tack.
“Starfleet uniforms are another target, sir,” she commented, an unvoiced criticism of my own attire. “I haven’t had mine in months.”
“The Ahwahnee’s arrived. They’re picking up the other groups of Starfleet members. It shouldn’t be too long before we can get a bath and clean clothes.”
She kept her eyes on the trees and merely grunted. She was done with me.
“I’ve run out of small talk,” I admitted, and sighed. There was a long silence. I tried to think of something else to say, but she was as hard as stone.
“Can you hear the drums?” she asked in soft voice. For a moment, I saw her as a young woman, barely in her twenties and far from Earth. I listened for the sounds. They were hard to pick out among the nearer noises, but she was right. “I remember the night we landed,” she continued. “There were drums in the distance and bugle calls. They were not so near as they are now, but the sky was clear and they carried further. You were humming to yourself.”
I was shocked that she remembered that much detail. Even I couldn’t recall, but it was likely.
“You had that guitar among your gear,” she continued. “What happened to it?”
I laughed. “You have a very sharp memory! I got rid of that guitar. I traded it for some cigars.” I recalled those cigars fondly. They had even looked good and felt good. The flavor had been full and smooth with no aftertaste and a hint of leather and cedar.
“It was probably not the best thing for a military advisor to carry around, anyway.” She laid her weapon back across her lap. I followed her stare; she was still looking at the trees.
“Do you see the sniper?”
“Not yet. I probably won’t until after he kills somebody.” She looked up at me and smiled. “I really thought we’d win, Fernando, despite the Klingons supplying the government troops.” She shrugged. “War here is a bit different. After we crossed the Peka River for that first battle and I heard the roar of the guns and cannons… it almost made me cry. We were young back then, full of life and not prepared to die.
“There was something in the air that night.” She paused again. “They’re closer now.”
I listened. A march came to my ears. I drew my phaser and looked at the charge indicator. Thirty-eight shots. Something slammed hard into my shoulder. I was her, knocking me over and coming to rest atop me, a few feet from where we had been sitting. There was a sharp report from the trees and the rebels around us ducked and scattered. “Phasers, sir, are another thing that draws a sniper’s attention,” she hissed.
For the second time, I thought of her as a woman and not a soldier. I breathed in through my nose as her hair covered my face. It stank of sweat and grease, spoiling my romantic notions. “Did you see him?”
“I was rather busy protecting you, sir,” she pointed out. “How is it you are still alive?”
I grinned and spread my arms in apology. “I’ve been with the generals. Logistics advisor and all that.” She pushed my arms down and half-rolled, half-dragged me to another part of the hillside. She was shaking her head at me.
A second slug kicked the dirt nearby. She raised her weapon and spent an eternity looking down its length. Finally, after I thought she was looking in vain, she fired it. I didn’t see if she hit anything; I was too busy looking at her. She hadn’t moved. “Did you get him?” I asked as she lowered the weapon. I already knew she had; she smiled with just a hint of actual pleasure.
“I did, sir. That doesn’t mean there aren’t more of them.”
My half-formed grin disappeared. Then my communicator beeped. With a glance in her direction to see the warning look on her face, I rolled so that my back was to the cluster of trees before I opened it. “This is Captain Tathwell of the USS Ahwahnee. We’re ready to retrieve you. Yours is the only communicator signal in your area. Are you alone?”
I looked up at her. “No, there are two of us.”
“Can you get clear of the people around you? We can’t beam both of you up at that location.”
“Understood sir.” I looked over at her. She was frowning and shaking her head. “No sir, we can’t. We’re about to be in combat and it’s not safe to move.”
“A shuttlecraft is on its way. Hold on for five minutes.”
“Yes sir,” I said. This time I did grin at her. “It looks like the cavalry is coming just in time.”
“For you and me,” she answered and her eyes were on the hillside where the rebels were crouched or lying. I couldn't help but look at them. They were all going to die or be captured, which was the same thing.
Then she softened just a little bit. “The stars are shining bright for you and me tonight.” It was a local saying I’d heard more than once the past year. Usually it was between close friends or lovers. I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the fantasy.
That was when the first cannon sounded.
Every minute of the next five seemed to last eternally. I kept my head down and didn’t use my phaser. Mostly I watched her as she protected me. Seven times, I think I would have been killed if she hadn’t been there. A Starfleet marine in combat is a one person death machine with any weapon, be it slugthrower, knife, or bare hands.
My communicator beeped again. “This is the shuttle Miwok 3. We’re thirty second out, ready to evacuate you. We will provide covering fire. Move to the clearing thirty meters to your left.”
“There’s no need,” I answered. “It’s just me to beam up.”
I’m older now and there’s gray in my hair. It’s been many years since I touched a phaser or wore a Starfleet uniform. Sometimes, if I listen hard enough, I can hear the drums over the Peka River.
Topic: It's Over Now (Read 5041 times)