Fairies, Trolls, and Staff Sergeant Maltin

     To attract less attention, Maltin walked for fifteen minutes,

then rested for five. He didn't know what criteria made a

walking man a target, but he suspected that they tracked any

prolonged movement from the skies, then sent a troll ship to

investigate. He was hoping this was true, since the average

troll ship carried eighteen heavily-armed and armored troll

soldiers. He didn't feel up to tackling more than two, three at

the most. After four hours Mili was struggling to keep up.

Maltin turned and really looked at her for the first time. She

was in shape, as were all soldiers in Federated Space

Command.

     "What's the problem, Mili?"

     "The shoulder is bothering me again."

     "I'll give you another shot."

     "Negative... I mean you'd better not, Walt. There is a

slight problem that I didn't mention before."

     "What's that?"

     "Well, I'm a little pregnant."

     "How in the hell did you get a "little" pregnant?"

     "I don't have time to go into it in detail, but it involves a

man and a woman," she made a circle of her fingers and slid the

fingers of her right hand into the circle.

     "That's not what I meant, smartass. When did you find time

to get pregnant and by who?"

     "About a month back with the Company Clerk in our outfit. He

had the cutest little butt you've ever seen," she said, with an

impish grin and giggle.

     "You're one sick soldier, Mili," Maltin said with a reluctant

grin.

     "Thanks. But I still have that "little" problem."

     "Yeah, I'm thinking. Ok, give me half that stuff," he

started taking hanging bags off her shoulders. You take this

scanner and keep your eyes peeled. If you see anything larger

than a fly, shoot it first and yell at me second. You've just

become the point man and I'm the mule."

     "Gotcha. Haw mule this way," she led off to the north with a

very un-soldier like giggle. Maltin growled, adjusting the packs

as he hurried to catch up.

     The added weight was taking it's toll on

Maltin. After a few hours he followed aimlessly, concentrating

only on putting one foot in front of the other. Mili's scream

brought him out of his trance. He looked up to see a 9-16

hovering directly in front of them. It had lifted up from behind

a huge boulder where it had clearly been waiting.

     "Shit!" Maltin screamed and started dropping bags so he could

maneuver with his rifle.

     "Get your butts down," an authoritative voice yelled behind

his back. He fell automatically. A soldier stood with a grenade

clutched in his hand. As the 9-16 began to howl, the man flicked

the safety off the grenade and threw it at the 9-16. The grenade

was a screamer, designed to build an internal charge of

compressed gas slowly, to give the soldier time to duck. The

scream came from part of the gas being vented. As the reaction

increased, the grenade exploded, rocking the saucer and finally

grounding it with a tremendous crash.

     Maltin stood and looked around in amazement.

     "I can still hear," he said with a happy grin.

     The soldier stood and approached. He was a lieutenant, so

Maltin saluted.

     "Somebody figured out that a screamer grenade cancels out the

effects of a 9-16's sonic weapon. It de-harmonizes it, if you

understand that lingo."

     "Glad to meet you, Lieutenant, I'm Staff Sergeant Maltin,

formerly of the 3rd."

     "The 3rd? We have a few of your boys filling in our ranks.

They're somewhere back there," he pointed over his shoulder with

his thumb. He studied Mili for a moment, then glanced at the

9-16. "That's our third this week."

     "The sheep are improving," Maltin said. It was a standing

joke in the 3rd.

     "You know what they say, the sheep shall inherit M791A-5,"

the Lieutenant said with a grin.

     "When hell freezes over," they both chimed in with wide

grins.

     "Yeah, you're from the third all right," the Lieutenant said

as he hefted his rifle and slung it over his shoulder.

     "Coming with?" he paused, looking over his shoulder while

motioning his small army into a marching line.

     "I have to get this girl to Alpha," Maltin said in regret,

"but since the 3rd's broken up I wouldn't mind joining you when

this detail is over, sir."

     "You plan to march 76 miles overland with only a female

soldier for company. Man, you're either a hero or an idiot. If

you make it and get back in one piece, I'll consider you a hero,"

he said with a jaunty salute and started off to the east.

     "What outfit are you?" Maltin yelled.

     "The 76th Elite Ranger Group," the lieutenant called with a

wave over his shoulder.

     "We're not going with them?" Mili's eyes bugged out as she

watched the small army melting into the greenery.

     "Nope, wrong direction," Maltin said as he adjusted the bags

around his body and motioned for her to lead off. He searched

for and found a dozen screamer grenades.

     "Here," he handed two to Mili.

     She slid them in two shirt pockets and nodded her thanks.

     The terrain became rough and rocky. Maltin again fell into a

trance as he marched, carrying enough load for three people. His

sunburned forehead was constantly dripping sweat into his eyes,

even during their frequent and short breaks. Mili began to

worry. In his condition Maltin could hardly see an enemy, much

less fight one. Which left the burden of their defense on her

shoulders. She had no field experience and in the two encounters

they had made with the enemy so far, she had messed up or frozen

up. She too was getting tired, but she sharpened her watch on

the skies and the hand-held scanner.

     By late afternoon they began climbing. The rocky hill they

started climbing soon became a rocky foothill. They camped near

the apex of the first large hill. A shear, impassable cliff hung

over their heads. Maltin dropped his packs where he stood,

accepted the compressed protein bar from Mili, and fell asleep

with it still half uneaten. Mili watched him nod off to sleep.

With a sigh she picked up her rifle and went to keep watch from a

nearby boulder.

     Maltin awoke with a start about two in the morning. He

remained motionless as he felt around slowly for his rifle. A

faraway sound much like a church chorus, but very quiet and

delicate, drew his expectant gaze to the heavens. He sent the

mysterious creatures a jaunty salute, massaged his aching

legs, and set out to follow the ragged breathing to it's source.

He found it near his left side. The fire was out and the camp,

what there was of it, was deserted. He heard a rasping breath

again, not quite a snore, but loud enough to get them killed in a

war zone. He followed it's source to Mili, asleep with her hands

and chin resting on her rifle barrel, where she sat upright on

the large boulder.

     He drew a gentle finger across her cheek. She slapped at his

finger, rubbed her nose, then went back to sleep. He drew his

finger across her face again and she awoke with a start.

     "Most people sleep lying down," Maltin said with a smile.

     "Most people don't walk for a hundred miles and get stuck

with guard duty," she said in a surly mood.

     "Go ahead and get some sleep, I'll watch the fireflies for a

while."

     "The what?" she stopped, halfway to camp.

     "The fireflies," Maltin pointed at the sky.

     Mili cringed and swept her rifle barrel up.

     "Relax!" Maltin shouted. "They come out all the time. I

must have set up and watched them sixteen or seventeen times,

since I got here. They don't come out every night. We think

it's some type of surveillance system, or possibly an indigenous

life form. They won't hurt you."

     Mili watched the lights playing between the stars and slowly

lowered her rifle.

     "How high are they?"

     "I don't know, I've never thought to ask. They don't show up

on radar or scanners, so I guess it can't be measured."

     "They must be traveling at hundreds of miles per hour," she

said in wonder.

     "Could be. They sure are fast, and can turn on a dime,"

Maltin said as he watched their antics. "Sometimes they all come

together and form a pattern, but nobody can make anything of it."

     "Maybe they're trying to communicate," she said, entranced by

the unceasing movement of the hundreds of speeding lights.

     "Our experts have studied them since the first landing, over

a year ago. They can't read anything into their patterns. As

far as we know, they're just playing."

     "Oh look, look, they're forming a snowflake!" Mili pointed

excitedly.

     Maltin nodded with a smile. After several minutes the

snowflake exploded as the hundreds of lights went in all

different directions.

     "Well, Mili, the trip tomorrow is all straight up, so you'd

better get some sleep," he sat on the boulder, resting the butt

of his rifle in the dirt as she had.

     "Ok, but I don't think it's worth it," she said in an

undertone, not meant for his ears.

     "Worth what?"

     "Getting me to my courts-martial by trudging across a hundred

miles of hostile territory," she said resentfully.

     "Is that what you think this is about?" Maltin was amazed.

"Mili, that plan went out of the window a long time ago."

     "Then what are we doing?" a hopeful look crossed her face.

     "Getting you to a computer."

     "Seriously?" she asked in shocked disbelief.

     "Yes, seriously. If there's even the smallest chance that

you can succeed, I'll hold a gun on everybody there until you get

your chance, then they can courts-martial us both."

     "I'm sorry, Maltin, I underestimated you."

     "Yes, you did. I'm much better looking than you thought I

was," he said with a self-satisfied grin. He shooed her off to

bed with a flip of his hand.

     Mili was still giggling until she finally fell asleep.

     Maltin enviously watched her for a moment, then turned his

attention to the lights. He kept a watch on the heavens, both

for the exotic light show, and because that's where trouble was

most likely to appear. He studied the changing formations of the

lights, trying to read something into them. But in the end they

were just flashy, meaningless designs.

     He lifted his rifle and sighted in on the formations. As he

increased the resolution of the digital onboard recorder in his

rifle, the lights blurred and became indistinct. He looked down

at the readings on the rifle, but the "distance to target" meter

read 9999, meaning the rifle could not lock in on it's target.

With a shake of his head, he let the rifle fall across his lap.

On an impulse he played back the automatic recording made by a

rifle as it was sighted in on a target. The lights appeared on

his little screen, doing their delicate ballet.

     "Well I'll be darned," he said to himself. He immediately

raised his rifle again and recorded the lights until his arms

grew tired.

     "I'll record more tomorrow, my arms are tired," he said in a

whisper and waved at the lights. To his amazement the lights

burst in all directions and disappeared, leaving a widening black

hole in the center. When the black hole sprouted flames, he

leaped to his feet.

     "Mili, grab your rifle, we've got company!" he screamed.