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appeared to argue with a superior for several seconds. The superior
turned away, leaving the Soldier, who then shrugged and proceeded to burn the
wagon with a flame thrower, calmly hosing the stream directly into the
prisoners.
"No!" shouted Kattinger, at the top of his lungs. His huge fist impacted the
bulkhead, putting a large dent in it.
"For the love of God!!" He turned to the young officer operating the monitor.
"That's enough! Shut it
off, now!" The officer almost broke his hand hurrying to comply. Kattinger
immediately was silent. His face hardened and crimson with rage, his eyes
moist.
The Wardroom was quiet as well. The officers had never seen their captain so
angry. They had never seen him this close to tears.
"Any ideas," said Kattinger, barely winning the fight for control, "will be
welcome. Just remember that whatever we do, we are committed to it. There is
no going back."
The wardroom emptied slowly, quietly. Totally absent was the earlier
enthusiasm. Fledermaus's mission profile had changed.
Three hours later, a knock on Kattinger's door broke his reverie. "Come in."
It was Sanchez. "Hans, you wanted ideas?" "Yes, come in. Shut the door,
would you?" Sanchez handed one of the coffee bulbs he was holding to
Kattinger, who drank immediately.
It tasted different. "Ah, a bit of the Irish this time." "I think you'll need
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it," said Sanchez, "when you hear what I'm going to say."
"I think the whole crew could use it after my command performance in the
wardroom."
"Hans, considering what we saw that Sauron doing - " "No," said Kattinger,
shaking his head. "It's more than that."
He looked up at Sanchez. "When I was in school, I was walking home when
a Sauron bomber attacked the city. A firebomb hit our house just as I had
come around the street. I saw my mother trying to carry my sister out of the
house. They were covered with fire."
In his hands was the picture from the desk. "This is all I have left."
Kattinger then nodded to some papers on his desk. "You should read
some of these," he said, changing the subject. "Johanna, God bless
her. She wants to mount our remaining weapons on the longboats and
'strafe the living shit out of them.' X.O. wants to take everything we can to
an isolated spot then drop the Fledermaus on their stronghold." Kattinger
shrugged. "That one has merit, but the rest of these, I don't know.
They're brave suggestions, all, but more the product of emotion than
reason.
Nothing that would eliminate enough of the Sauron gene pool."
Sanchez leaned forward. "Captain, if we drop the ship on them, we give them
metal and reveal our presence. If we try to shoot them, they may
still have heavy enough weapons to shoot down the longboats. These are
things we cannot allow, sir."
"I've been thinking the same thing and you're right. What do you suggest?"
Sanchez sipped his coffee for a moment. "We have to beat the Saurons at their
own game, Hans. We find a spot that is isolated from Sauron and Havener
populations, but still on the main continent. Then we put down with everything
we can take in longboats, and bring the ship down nearby."
"I'm afraid that bringing the ship down is ruled out. The entry burn for
something this big would circle the planet at least once. As you said, we
can't let anyone know we're here."
"There's something else, Hans. If there is an accident in bringing down the
longboats we'll lose the genes of anyone-killed. How many women are aboard?"
"Forty-seven," said Kattinger, grinning slightly, "So you think we should
get them pregnant before anything else begins?"
Sanchez nodded.
"Well," said Kattinger, "It's a rough job but I think the men will be 'up' to
it."
The shared laughter eased some of the earlier tension.
"Ah, yes. The men," said Sanchez, grinning broadly. "What about yourself?"
"What do you mean?" asked Kattinger, trying to look innocent.
Sanchez's manner softened to one of friendly understanding. "You like
Lieutenant Dettering, don't you?"
"Is it all over the ship?"
"Mm, I have ears. Apparently, you made the mistake of calling her by her first
name while on watch."
"Oh. That's right, I did," said Kattinger, regretfully.
"Don't worry about it, no seems to mind." Sanchez paused, smiling.
"Least of all, young Miss
Dettering."
Kattinger didn't speak but he didn't have to. The light returning to his eyes
gave him away.
"But," said Sanchez, "we'll need a very tight breeding program. No
two children from the same parents for the first few generations. We'll
have to give up a few customs if we're to survive."
"Yes, you are right, of course. The program will be Dr. Gettmann's job."
Kattinger's thoughts returned to the immediate problem. "All we need is a
suitable location."
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"I've got one," said Sanchez, producing a map of Haven's principal
continent. "This part here, theEdenValleyshows no sign of recent habitation
and does not appear low enough for having babies. But this region here," he
pointed southeast ofShangri-LaValley, "is a wide plateau that's low enough to
live on."
"But not low enough to have babies on."
"No. That is why we must keep the longboats. They can be pressurized and used
as maternity wards."
Kattinger brows slowly arched. "Hmm."
The previously cramped spaces of the Fledermaus appeared gaunt and empty as
the crew stripped anything that could be used on the planet below. All
available scrap metal along with the tools in the small machine shop and the
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