Crusade by Taylor Anderson Page A

night was bad, but they sure had a rough time on Mahan . Everything from constant fear for their lives to attempted rape. With Kaufman in charge”—she snorted—“pretending to be in charge—there was chaos. They told me things . . .” She didn’t finish, but instead looked in the direction of the barricade and what lay beyond. “Beth Grizzel went ashore with Kaufman. Did you know that?”
    Bradford nodded and gently patted her arm. “Mr. Ellis told me last night.”
    Sandra shivered, but continued to glare at the barricade. “Damn Kaufman!” she muttered fiercely. “So much misery because of him. I hope he roasts in hell!”
    Bradford felt his eyebrow arch, but decided now wasn’t an appropriate time for the response that leaped to mind. Pity. “I’m quite certain he did, my dear.” He guided her to a bench and hovered near her as she sat down at last. “And how then are the captain and his extremely lucky companions? I still can hardly believe they survived, from what I hear.”
    She stared bleakly at her hands on her lap. “As you say. Lucky to be alive. Keje has a concussion, I think, but other than that he didn’t get a scratch. The Chief had an arrow in his hip, but it struck the very edge of his pelvis and went down instead of up. Lucky. If it went up, it would have perforated his bowel. God knows if that Lemurian paste would have any effect on peritonitis. It’ll hurt when he walks for a while, but he should be fine. Matt?” She closed her eyes tightly and tried to control the relief in her voice. “His cheekbone is cracked, at least, and he has a deep gash in his side, down to the ribs. Besides that, he was stabbed in the back, through his shoulder blade and out his chest with a spear.” She laughed bitterly. “At least it was a ‘clean’ wound. Not many bone fragments or other debris. Those Grik spears are sharp!” The tears came then, in spite of all she could do.
    Bradford sat beside her and put his good arm around her shoulders. “You care a lot for him, don’t you, my dear?” He spoke in a kindly voice.
    “Of course I do,” Sandra whispered, answis. all.”
     
    The sun finally rose and showed for all to see the results of the Battle of Aryaal. By late morning, the skuggiks had arrived in force, and soon there were so many even Bradford couldn’t watch them anymore, so sickened did he become. Beyond the barricade and across the plain, all the way up to the base of the wall that surrounded Aryaal, a seething mass of raucous scavengers feasted on the thousands of Grik corpses underneath the brilliant sun and cloudless sky. The ground itself came to look like one huge corpse, working with maggots as the light gray skuggiks capered and hopped among the bodies, gorging themselves on the remains. The smell was overpowering, but the sounds the creatures made while they ate were even worse.
    Jim Ellis walked, still limping a little from the wound Kaufman had given him, up to the awning that served as a hospital tent. There he found Rolak, pacing anxiously back and forth while Chack stood in one place and spoke quietly to him. Jim had met the Lemurian bosun’s mate only the night before, but he didn’t feel the least bit ridiculous returning the sharp salute Chack gave him when he joined them.
    “Good morning, sir,” Chack said. There was a blood-soaked bandage on his shoulder, and he wore his battered doughboy helmet with a jaunty air. Over his other shoulder was slung a long-barreled Krag-Jorgensen and a Navy cutlass was belted around his blood-spattered kilt.
    “Good morning, ah, Mr. Chack.” Ellis gestured at Rolak, who had stopped his pacing and was now looking at him. “What’s with him?”
    “He is anxious to see the captain.”
    “Me too,” Jim said with feeling. He glanced at his watch. “I guess we’ll get to in about fifteen minutes. I got word there’s an officers’ call at twelve hundred hours.”
    Chack nodded. “Yes, sir, but not in the tent. It’s down at