Second Day - Afternoon
They came upon a grove of scrub trees and sawgrass that looked oddly out of place for the terrain. The hair on the back of Giselle's neck stood up. She advanced cautiously, turning this way and that, maintaining a close watch in all directions. Geoff followed, adding his eyes to the scan. If the grove seemed out of place, the dilapidated, two-story frame house was doubly so. Giselle approached the stairs to the porch at a half-crouch, placing each footfall quietly, carefully, deliberately, her left hand over her shoulder, resting comfortably on the hilt of her sword. There was no sign of life on the porch or at the door. They mounted the steps and entered.
There were stairs ahead of the door and a parlor to the right. They stepped into the latter room, Geoff keeping a close eye on their rear. The room itself was unremarkable, aside from the entire structure being hideously out of place. It had a high ceiling and a few pieces of old furniture with threadbare upholstery scattered around the periphery. Tattered lace curtains fluttered at the windows. For the most part, it was just a big, empty room, ending in a door.
It was the closed door that held the experienced tactician's attention. It wasn't a '
door'
door. Rather, it was an industrial-style steel fire door, mounted on tracks, which slid to one side rather than swinging on hinges. When she saw that door,
she knew
.
Her hands flew to her chest, unbuckling the sword harness. She thrust the sword back into Geoff's hands.
"Step back. Do
not
interfere. If this goes south, get out, don't look back, and stay on the mission."
"But..."
"
STEP BACK
," she hissed.
Then, they heard the buzzing roar. Giselle faced the steel door, positioning her feet shoulder-width apart, flexing her knees slightly. The door flew to one side. The man who stepped through it – and it did appear to be a man – was perhaps six-foot-three, two-hundred-thirty pounds, wearing commercial-grade denim overalls, a stained, full-length leather apron and matching mask. He stank of death and decay. A long, menacing chain saw swung from his arms in a wide figure-eight arc.
It was the kind of specter that would have terrified any normal human being, let alone a normal young woman. Giselle Du Mont had never been either. She calculated the speed of his advance, plus that of the saw's recurring circular motion. She waited until he was just before her, the spinning chain at the apogee of its arc, directly above her head. Then, she struck.
The front snap kick caught him squarely in the groin, momentarily lifting him off the floor. Even through the heavy combat boot, she could feel his testicles collapse from the force of the blow. As he doubled over, the saw would have neatly bisected the woman – had she still been standing where she had been. She was already squatted to one side, spinning clockwise on her left foot, right leg extended, heel-forward. She swept the man's feet out from under him from behind in one fluid motion. He somersaulted backwards in mid-air, landing with a crash on his head and shoulders. His legs were above him, parallel to the floor.
Giselle rocked back on her shoulders, thrusting both legs straight up, then snapped them out and down. She caught his legs behind the ankles, pinning him to the floor, the chain saw trapped between his thighs and belly. She reached out with her right hand, covered his, and firmly squeezed the trigger. The icy blonde held him there, watching dispassionately, as the chain saw ripped him apart. His trapped body shuddered violently as green blood, flesh, and bits of bone flew in every direction.
It was over in a few seconds. She rolled off him when his legs came loose and collapsed on top of the remains of his torso. Kipping up to her feet, she stepped to the window, yanked a lace curtain from its rod, and wiped the gore from her face, neck and hands. Throwing the bloody rag down, she walked determinedly from the room and house, eyes fixed straight ahead. Geoff followed in her wake, too stunned to speak.
He caught up with her fifty yards on, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around. Her eyes burned brightly. Her jaw was still tightly clenched, distended at the hinges. Geoff held her firmly by the arms. He didn't care one whit that she could, if she chose, dispatch
him
as easily as she had the man in the house. His eyes bore into hers, demanding answers.
"What... just...
happened
? That was a
man
back there, one of our own kind, and he just tried to
kill us
! Has the entire Universe gone
insane?
What was he doing here in the first place? And why did he bleed
green
blood
,
like the ant?"
Her demeanor softened. She eased her right arm from his grasp, softly put her fingers to his lips and shook her head.
"No, it
wasn't
," she replied calmly. "A man, that is. We could probably come back here in an hour and none of it would be here; the house, the grove, anything. Just like the ants."
"What about the Golganthan's ant?" Geoff countered.
"The Arcturans were not done with it yet," Giselle responded. "Rather, the
Golganthans
weren't. As to why he bled green, like the ant... that just proves he
wasn't
human. The color indicates
cupraglobin
;
copper-based blood. I think they were both constructs, derived from a similar source. Replicas."
The lanky young man turned his head this way and that, thoroughly confused.
"Was it
real
? Any of it?" he inquired incredulously.
"Real enough to kill us both if we had been less skillful."
"I
was
less skillful," Geoff avowed. "I would be mincemeat twice over if not for you."
She placed her hand on his chest.
"
You,
My Dear, would have been smart enough not to go into the house in the first place."
"Why did
you
?" he demanded.
She pursed her lips.
"Because the Arcturans expected me to. If I hadn't... I don't know, they might have penalized us in some way. I took a calculated risk. We won. We will be rewarded for it, just as we will be rewarded for our earlier combat with the Golganthans. In the end, these tiny victories, and the rewards we earn, will help us win."
"
Tiny?
" he gasped. "Oh, never mind that part. Why did you give me your sword? Why not just draw and quarter him with it? For you, that would be child's play."
She wrapped her arm around his.
"Walk with me. Geoff, we train as hard as we can, learn as much as we can, then stick close to those who have done the job and survived, in hope some of their 'magic' will rub off on us. But there is no magic in Combat. In the end, so much of it depends on that 'blind idiot luck' I talked about yesterday.
"Good people die for really stupid, tragic, yet unavoidable reasons. I was fairly confident I could take down old 'Leatherface' with or without my sword,
but
there was a chance I was mistaken. I told you it was a calculated risk. If I had lost,
you
would be responsible for Humankind, not to mention defending yourself from Leatherface. You would have a much better chance of fulfilling those two responsibilities
with
the sword than
without
it."
"You would sacrifice yourself like that?" he asked.
"If the job called for it, yes; without a moment's hesitation," the blonde warrior asserted. "The mission comes first. One life is unimportant.
Life itself
– with the infinite possibilities it offers –
is
important. Our job here is to ensure Life, as we know it, continues – no matter what."
"What did you mean 'goes
south?'"
he inquired.
She laughed.
"Ends badly, disastrously. Sometimes, I slip. Now, let's get back to the cave."
She was so adept at that façade of invincibility. He admired her for that. Yet he now knew her well enough to understand she would need him later, when she let down her guard. He vowed he would be there for her, as he had attempted the night before.
She hadn't lied to him; not really. She hadn't been the slightest bit afraid of Leatherface. She had seen the film so many times, choreographed and rehearsed her response in her head so often, that when it actually played out, she could have all but phoned in her performance. Who says nothing good ever comes of a childhood fixation on scary movies?
Her ploy had had an entirely different motivation, one that seemed to be working out. With a smile, she noted that it had not yet occurred to Geoff to offer her back the sword he had slung over his shoulder as she did. She had wanted him to have a taste of
command
, of being in charge – with all the responsibility that job carried. She would need that of him later; Earth would. More to the point, she
wanted it.
So far, he was handling it like a natural.
Upon their return to the cave, the Praetor's holographic image awaited them.
"Who are you?", he inquired accusingly.
"Giselle Du Mont. I told you that."
"Who are you
with
? What military organization?"
Giselle blushed, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of Geoff.
"I am unemployed. I have been for two years. I told you
that
, too."
"I don't believe you."
"Look it up. I'm in the book!"
The heated exchange went on for several minutes. In the end, the Praetor broke contact; satisfied or not, they could not tell. Shortly, a tall stack of
MRE
's, medical supplies, a couple of knapsacks and some kind of lantern appeared on the cave floor. There were still no new weapons. The lantern would be useful in providing additional light at night. Geoff just stared at their reward for providing a good day's 'entertainment'. Giselle placed her hand on his arm. He looked up.
"What?" she asked softly.
"I can't help wondering what the Golganthans received for
losing,
" he intoned.
Her jaw muscles clenched. She already knew the answer to that. In her mind's eye, she could still see the excised portion of the dead ant's abdomen. She wondered how it had tasted.
"Go down to the grotto and get cleaned up," she advised. We'll talk when you get back."
"What about you?" he asked.
"I'll shower later. I have something to do first."
When Geoff returned, she wasn't there. He was getting used to that. The dejected young warrior-in-training realized he wasn't in her league – and wondered if he ever would be. He had the distinct impression she was older than she appeared. She was clearly more skillful, experienced, intuitive and fiercely independent. He wasn't used to a woman making him feel like an addled schoolboy. Right now, he would be happy if she would just let him know when she was leaving.
It was dark when she finally reappeared in the cave entrance. She dropped her empty knapsack and Sally Mae in a heap with the rest of their gear. She placed the sword more reverently in the corner. Geoff looked at her expectantly. She shrugged her shoulders.
"Night recon."
