The Last Mission Of The Seventh Cavalry. Charley Brindley

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Название The Last Mission Of The Seventh Cavalry
Автор произведения Charley Brindley
Жанр Зарубежная фантастика
Серия
Издательство Зарубежная фантастика
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9788835406099



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Face pulled a three-foot-long sword from his belt and grinned at Sharakova as he flourished it around.

      “Yeah, I see your little knife. Did you see my rifle?” She spun it around and placed the butt on the ground beside her right boot. “Your move, Gomer.”

      Lojab tried to get away, but the two men held him tight, twisting his arms around behind his back.

      Fuzzy Face swung his sword at Sharakova’s neck. She dropped to one knee and brought up her rifle to block the blow. As the sword clanged on the receiver of the rifle, she jumped up, holding the rifle in front of her.

      The man then drew back the sword for a thrust at her heart. Sharakova knocked away the sword and stepped in to hit him in the chest with the butt of the rifle. As the man staggered backward, Sparks grabbed his bayonet and fixed it on the barrel of his rifle. Karina and Joaquin did the same. Some of the men watched them and drew their swords.

      Fuzzy Face circled Sharakova, waving his sword. She kept her eyes on him. Suddenly, one of the foot-soldiers in the crowd knelt behind her and yanked her feet from under her, sending her face-down in the dirt.

      Sparks ran forward and put his bayonet to the man’s forearm. “Back off!”

      The man let go of Sharakova and crawled backward. She rolled and sprang to her feet. She then glanced at her rifle, lying in the dirt, ten feet away. Fuzzy Face looked at her rifle, too, and he grinned and started for her.

      “Here!” Karina tossed her rifle to Sharakova, who caught the rifle and waved the sharp point of the bayonet at the man.

      “You want a taste of this?” she snapped.

      Karina knelt to pick up Sharakova’s rifle, keeping her eyes on Fuzzy Face. Joaquin came into the ring to stand beside Karina, his rifle ready. Sparks stepped over beside Lojab. Now all five soldiers of the Seventh were inside the circle of thirty foot-soldiers.

      Fuzzy Face looked at Sharakova for a moment, said something, and threw his sword to the dirt. He pounded his chest, yelling like a gorilla.

      “Oh, you want to fight man-to-man, huh? Okay.” Sharakova tossed her rifle on the ground and stepped away from it. “Come on, then, let’s do it.”

      He ran at her, grabbing her around the neck with both hands. She pushed up her arms between his arms and brought her elbows down to break his hold, then, in a smooth continuation of her motion, she took hold of his wrist, placed her foot behind his, and pushed him off balance.

      He hit the ground hard but jumped up, swinging his fist at her head. She stepped into his swing, grabbed his arm, and threw him to the ground again.

      He got up, roaring with anger, and came at her. She spun around, bringing up her right foot, landing her boot in his ribs. But the blow had no effect on him. He then grabbed her foot, twisted it, and threw her to the dirt.

      The men yelled and cheered, urging on the fighters.

      Sharakova sprang to her feet and went after him, hitting him in the face with a quick one-two punch, bloodying his nose. He wiped his hand across his nose and looked at the blood on his fingers, then lunged at her. Sharakova swung her fist at his stomach, but he sidestepped, grabbed her arm, and spun her around. He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Her arms were pinned against her sides as he began to squeeze the life out of her. She squirmed around and pulled her right arm free, then grabbed her pistol, cocked it, and pressed it behind her back and into his side.

      A loud gunshot startled everyone.

      Alexander held his smoking handgun in the air. He brought down the pistol and pointed it at Fuzzy Face.

      “Let her go.”

      All the foot-soldiers knew what the gun could do—they’d seen it used on the buffalo dogs. Fuzzy Face let go of Kady, then stared at Alexander.

      “Apache,” Alexander said.

      “Yeah, I’m right behind you.”

      “See if you can communicate with this ape and calm things down.”

      Autumn came forward and swung her rifle over her shoulder. She stared at Fuzzy Face for a moment, then began to speak. “I am Autumn Eaglemoon. My people are the Seventh Cavalry. We came here from the sky.” She used sign language, hoping he would understand a little of what she was saying. “We wish you no harm, but if you don’t stop fighting, we will shoot every last one of you bastards.” She cocked her thumb and index finger like a pistol, then pointed to each man around the circle. “Bang, bang, bang, bang.”

      “Uh, Eaglemoon,” Alexander said, “I was thinking more along the lines of a little diplomacy.”

      “Do you know how to sign ‘diplomacy,’ Sarge?”

      “No, but—”

      Fuzzy Face cocked his hand and pointed at Autumn. “Bang, bang?”

      “That’s right,” Autumn said. “Bang, bang.”

      He burst out laughing and came toward Autumn. She stepped back, but he thrust out his hand in a friendly gesture. She hesitated, then reached toward him.

      He gripped her hard and said a string of words, ending with, “Hagar.”

      “Hagar?”

      Fuzzy Face nodded. He wiped blood from his nose, then tapped his chest with his fist. “Hagar.”

      “All right, Hagar.” She pulled her hand from his. “Apache.” She patted her chest.

      “Apache,” he said, then signaled to one of his men.

      The man came forward, and Hagar took a smoking bowl from his hand. He offered the bowl to Autumn. She looked at the bowl and shook her head.

      “I would rather have something to drink.” She made a drinking motion.

      Hagar yelled a command. Soon, a woman came forward with a clay jug and two drinking bowls. She handed a bowl to each of them, then poured a dark liquid from the jug.

      Autumn sipped from the bowl, then smacked her lips and smiled.

      “Wine.” She held out the bowl to Hagar.

      He clinked his bowl against hers, then gulped down his wine. She took another sip, then drank the whole thing. They held out their empty bowls to the woman, and she refilled them.

      Autumn pointed at Lojab, who was still being held by the two foot-soldiers. “How about if they let go of him?”

      Hagar looked where she pointed, then made an impatient gesture toward the two men. They released Lojab. He stumbled forward, regained his balance, then dusted himself off.

      Autumn toasted Hagar. “Diplomacy!”

      “Apache!”

      They both emptied their bowls.

      “Take it easy,” Alexander said, “you know you can’t handle your firewater.”

      Lojab picked up his rifle and went toward Sharakova. “Can’t you ever mind your own business? I had the situation under control until you went berserk.”

      “Yeah, you had it under control all right. I saw how you were attacking that guy’s fist with your stomach.”

      “If Sarge hadn’t showed up to save your butt,” Lojab said, “you would’ve been dead meat.”

      “Uh-huh. Well, next time you want to get high, go climb a tree,” she said as she traded rifles with Karina.

* * * * *

      The next day, late in the afternoon, Liada and Tin Tin came to the platoon. But they were without their usual smiles and cheerful comments.

      “We find you Rocrainium,” Liada said.

      Chapter Ten

      It was almost dark when they walked into the small clearing, two miles away from their camp on the river.

      “My God,” Sharakova said, “what happened to him?”

      “He was tortured,”