* * *
The rats marched between the shock-stick-armed MPs, to face the bored-looking tribunal. The clerk listed their numbers. The officer presiding looked up from the sheaf of papers in front of him. “You are charged with aiding and abetting the enemy, desertion and murder of your human officer. We have affidavits here from the OC commanding and Rat 235645670045, known as ‘Dick Deadeye.’ Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
The rats looked in puzzlement at the officers. “We never did any a-betting. ‘Tis a good idea, mind,” said Gobbo.
“Murder?” said Ariel. “‘Twas pesticide. And that is no crime. We asked.”
The officer ignored her. “We note that Rat 235645670045, known as ‘Dick Deadeye,’ is deceased. I presume he was murdered to try and cover up your heinous deeds.”
Pooh-Bah shook his head. “Humans doth mistake rats’ morality. But then we find you incomprehensible. He took liberties that he wasn’t invited to with Ariel.”
6
“Oink! I mean, Lieutenant,” said Ewen, the big private grinning all over his ugly face. But, also, saluting earnestly.
“At ease,” said the newcomer to Ariel’s chief supplier. “I feel uncomfortable enough with this bird shit on my shoulders without having to run into my old squad. What are you doing here, Ewen? I thought you’d been posted to the artillery.”
The big private shrugged. “I got caught running a black-market trade with the rats. When it got to the court-martial they couldn’t quite pin it on me. So I got posted here to ‘Fort Despair.’ What did you do wrong?”
“Other than graduate from the OCS course, nothing I can think of. Why?”
Ewen shook his head. “You always were a bit slow—sir—even when it came to making a bed.” The private grinned broadly at the memory. “This is ‘Fort Despair.’ Where they send the malcontents and troublemakers. It’s a hot sector. The Maggots are pushing forward fast and hard. The Maggots are supposed to do the job for them without having to go through all the hassle of finding evidence for a court-martial.” The private laughed. “We read all about your little court case, Oi . . . Lieutenant.”
“We’ll have to keep it ‘Lieutenant,’ Private. Too damn difficult otherwise.”
The big man smiled. “I reckon I won’t have any trouble taking orders from you. Sir.”
* * *
“This is Lieutenant Fitzhugh. He is the new OC for this sector,” said the sergeant.
The rats seemed vastly uninterested. The humans—and they were a rough-looking lot—looked as if they were already planning to desert or kill him.
Fitz looked speculatively at them, without saying a word, until they began to get uncomfortable. Then he sighed. “Right. Listen up all of you. I gather you are all here to save the army the trouble of killing you legally.” There was low-throated grumble. “It probably hasn’t occurred to you that they’d give you an officer that they feel the same way about.”
The grumble was silenced as they digested this one. Fitz ground his fist into his palm. “I’m planning on pissing on their fireworks, soldiers. I’m here because I got up the noses of certain powerful Shareholders. Private Ewen here will fill you in on all the gory details. For a fee, I’m sure. But to cut a long story short, I was a boot with the conscripts. I know every ‘stute trick you lot can pull. And they will not happen. Is this clear?”
There were a few mutters. “On the other hand, I am not going to waste your time with petty crap. There will be weapons drills, come hell, high water or shelling. Your bangsticks will be sharp and ready. Hygiene will be of the highest standard we can manage out here. God help anyone I find crapping in their foxhole. For the rest, I’m really not interested. When, if, we get out of here, you’ll worry about polished boots and belt buckles. Until then, don’t waste your time or mine.” There was a muted cheer. He hushed it with a wave. “I’ll want to talk individually to all of you, especially the combat vets. I’ve no intention of obliging anyone by dying easily. I want that attitude from all of you. Dismissed. Back to your posts.”