Heritage of Flight by Susan Shwartz Page A

eaters/plains.
    "It's the same story, sir,” Rafe spread out his hands and shrugged. “The Cynthians flee the eaters. Since they like us, they want us to run too, and suggest evacuating into their caves. I don't think they're equipped to put up much resistance; may be why they run. They're pretty awkward on the ground."
    "But we could fight them!” Pauli cried.
    Borodin watched the pilot carefully. Her commission date had preceded Rafe Adams'; despite her age, she was seasoned and wary. Why had she suggested a fight? That answer came more quickly than replies from the Cynthians: a fight would be one way to remove the strain from Adams. She stood very close to him. That, at least, was something to be grateful for.
    A flicker of color drew the captain's attention. Ariel's wings were drooping, their luminous colors subdued. Borodin felt a moment's sympathy for the Cynthian: older, and presumably stuck with responsibility for the smaller Cynthians such as the ones it had evidently ordered back to the safe hills.
    "What would you suggest, Lieutenant? Besides ben Yehuda's dubious expedient of blasting the lot of them."
    As if Uriel could interpret the emotional tensions among the humans, it fluttered its antennae, swept palpae back and forth, and beat its wings two or three times as Pauli considered her words.
    "I say we push the eaters hard. Given our own limited food supply, we can't retreat to the Cynthians’ caves and expect to be a drain on their resources. Whatever their resources are,” she added. “So I'd suggest that first, we guard the camp by burning a clear zone on the land side. If there's nothing to eat in it, the grubs won't try to cross. But we'll be planting, and our crops will tempt the things. That means we'll have to set up watches. And every time we see eaters, we burn them out. And"—Pauli collected herself and drew a deep breath as she came to the most controversial part of her defense strategy—"I further suggest that we develop a pesticide that will stop the eaters permanently. Sir.” His title came tacked on as an afterthought, and the woman tensed, anticipating his reaction.
    Pauli, I think you just went too far, Borodin commented silently. Not that I disagree, but I think you're going to have to take the consequences of those words. The civilians were muttering again. Bozhe moi, the civilians were always muttering. Sardonically Borodin quoted a proverb from Novaya Moskva, his homeworld: you couldn't make omelets without breaking eggs. His people, even from the time before spaceflight, understood that. Their continued survival could be attributed to a genius for enduring times when large numbers of eggs were broken: accepting the horrors, and the consequences, then hunkering down till the trouble retreated. As it always did. These civilian's might be more humane; they were far less patient. It was a weakness.
    He sighed. After a lifetime in space, he found planetbound life painful; dampness made his back ache; the civs’ tendency to fight him made his head ache. And the injury done the child who was his to protect? They were sentimental on Novaya Moskva; and his heart ached for her.
    "I don't want to hear any talk of poisoning alien life,” Beneatha Angelou stated.
    You can't antagonize the xenobotanist, Pauli girl: we need her too much, Borodin warned his underofficer silently.
    "Would you rather have an eater latch onto your foot?” cried Ari. His father motioned to his son to hush.
    A moment later, everyone still gathered near the fire and the bristling Cynthians had leapt up and seemed to try to make an angry speech at once. Several of the children screamed, high and piercing, drawing Ariel's attention. Two others had curled up almost in fetal positions.
    "Look what you've done!” Borodin snapped. “Someone take those kids inside.” He waited until they were removed. “I hope we didn't do them any damage tonight. Now look, I didn't want to have to say this. I suspect you've all wondered