Chapter 312

The Retreat

Other than a little quiet teasing from the other Alphas' wives, and perhaps, a bit of restrained envy, the incident involving Jeff's mates wasn't openly discussed, at least not in the Matthews' presence. But just because it wasn't brought up in conversation didn't mean that it wasn't on the forefront of the thoughts of Alice, Terri and Bridget. Bridget was waiting until she could get Courtney alone to find out more about the Matthews, and the two girls had planned to get Angie aside to grill her.

When breakfast was over, Whitworth nodded at Jeff, and they walked down the hall together. In his office, the General turned the coffee maker on, it having been set up earlier that morning by his wives, and motioned for Jeff to take a seat.

"So, what's up, Sir?"

The General sat and took out a cigar from his desk drawer. When it was clipped and lit, he propped his feet on his desk, then blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling before answering his Colonel. "Thought you might like to see what Morales has been up to lately."

The coffee maker gurgled as it finished. Jeff got up and poured two cups, putting one on the General's desk and sitting with the other cupped in his hands. "Well, Morales was quick to kill his ... buddy, or whatever Robertson was to him. Logically, I can't blame Morales. With his attitude, Robertson would doubtless have gotten them both killed."

"Well," Whitworth laughed, "it's not as if Morales broke any laws – there aren't any on 2214," he finished with a chuckle. "We emphasized that the only inhabitants of the planet were criminals sentenced there for life, that there were no laws, nor enforcement of them if there had been any, and it was survival of the fittest. So far, with few exceptions, the fittest have proven to be the animals and the elements."

He took another pull on his cigar and thought for a moment. "I've had my people regularly swap out the probes that are observing Morales. My techs have scanned the vids as the probes come back, and have produced a synopsis of his endeavors for us. I watched only a few minutes of that vid, and it seemed quite interesting. Want to watch it with me?"

"You bet," the Prime replied, leaning back in his chair as the giant TV on the wall came on showing Morales at near life size. As parts of his last couple of days were revealed to them, the two men drank several cups of coffee and armchair quarterbacked his efforts.

When he killed the pig, Whitworth commented, "That wasn't a bad shot, everything considered."

"The head shot was probably a good idea, too," Jeff agreed. "With that barrel-like body, chances of him hitting something that would have instantly put the animal down were slim, at least in my opinion. He would, instead, have been chasing a blood trail for the rest of the day while the thing slowly died. But ... I wonder if the bow would have cracked that thing's skull like the crossbow did with that bolt."

"Or if he could have hit its head with the bow. There's a lot of difference in technique with the two weapons. That crossbow is much like shooting a rifle, but the bow takes a hell of a lot more practice to become proficient than he'd had, although he did get in a little practice on the short range that was connected to his cell."

They had laughed when Morales washed his body in the cold stream. "Shit, that water is so cold his dick has all but run up his ass," Whitworth said as he laughed.

"Yeah, I can't remember ever seeing goose bumps that size, either, and he surely looked comical traipsing through the woods wearing nothing but his boots," Jeff offered. "Still, everything considered, it was probably a damn good idea – uncomfortable as hell, but a good idea, nevertheless. He'd been sweating a lot, and probably reeked. Something an animal could smell for a long distance."

As they had continued to watch the vid, Jeff's commentary picked up again. "I'm not sure rubbing those flower buds on himself did much, but then again that antelope didn't detect him until the last instant. Of course, that may have been entirely due to his being downwind, but Morales is obviously learning fast. Odd too; he surely wasn't the boss of their operation at the ski lodge. Robertson was obviously in charge."

"Yeah, well," the General said with a chuckle, "but they did get caught while Robertson was in charge. Morales may not be that proverbial sharpest knife in the drawer, but he has a drawer full of common sense. To date, he hasn't eaten any of his energy bars as far as I can tell. If he's managed to dry that antelope properly, and it appears that he has, he will have food for several weeks, and that after being on planet for only a couple of days."

"If the saber tooth doesn't eat him in the meantime," Jeff commented as Whitworth paused the vid. "If antelope are that big on 2214, I wonder what the planet's version of elk are like?"

"Hu-fucking-mongous," the General said with a laugh.

Whitworth had long since put out the remains of his cigar. Jeff got up to replenish their coffee yet again. As he put the General's on the desk and reseated himself, Whitworth asked, "Think he hurt that cat enough to keep it from coming back?"

Jeff sipped his coffee, thinking. "Impossible to tell with the poor lighting, but I doubt it. Worse; I suspect he angered it so much it will never forget him. Pain has a way of making you remember it and its cause." After a pause, he went on, "I've never encountered a saber tooth on any of the worlds I've been on, but then again, we generally had a specific mission and usually weren't there very long, so most times we didn't encounter much of the animal life. There were a couple of exceptions, but we were heavily armed. All Morales has is a crossbow and a compound bow. That cat appeared to be huge, and was having major difficulties trying to get through that narrow opening into the cave, else I think he would have torn down Morales' entrance bars and made lunch of him."

The General shrugged. "I guess my people underestimated how many of the cats there were, or else Morales is unlucky enough to have been put down near one, or maybe even a den of them, or a pride, or whatever the fuck a group of them is called. I guess it's been a toss-up between animals killing the prisoners, or the elements finishing them. The planet has relatively hot summers and some very cold winters. My scientists spot-checked 2214 for a couple of years. There are some minerals, but we didn't detect any high concentrations that would be readily profitable, certainly in comparison to other planets that are clearly more so. But even with the few scientists bouncing about the planet, it was evident there were a lot of vicious animals there.

"It's a decent world other than the animal population, but some, admittedly, are very dangerous to human beings. At least we didn't sentence the prisoners there to go visit Sol. They do have the possibility to survive on 2214, and if Morales can get past the saber tooth and its cousins, if it has any nearby, and if he doesn't attract the cave bears, he has a chance at a decent life. He did murder people here on Earth. And if they had not been criminals who were themselves killers of decent people, he would have vacationed where Mazarella did."

"You like him, don't you, Sir?"

Whitworth thought for a second before leaning back in his chair again. "Hmmm. 'Like, ' is probably too strong a word. I guess I must respect him a bit, and he intrigues me because he keeps surprising me. He did a good job with those torches he made by soaking cattails in animal fat. Oh, the idea was in one of the survival books, but he recognized 2214's version of the plant and went from there. He makes up his mind on something and follows through with it. I suspect he resented Robertson, and did as little as he could during the arson attempt. On 2214, it's do or die. Instead of griping and refusing to man-up, slacking the way Robertson did from the get-go, Morales accepted his sentence, studied the books in the cell, kept studying them on planet, and has striven hard to survive. Dammit, somehow I, in some small way, have to admire the guy."

"A rule would have helped," Jeff allowed, remembering some of Morales' muttered comments.

Whitworth turned to his computer and brought up a list of the supplies that were sent with Morales. "Fuck, there's a rule and a speed square on the list, but obviously someone screwed up and didn't put the rule in. I think I saw the speed square when he was digging through the case. If he ever gets around to building a cabin, or crude furniture, the square will come in handy, but it's only ten inches across the top. Not much good for quickly measuring a pole to go across his entrance. Of course, there might be one in Robertson's case, if so, and if Morales ever manages to get the case, he'll have a rule, and probably more importantly, have a double supply of energy bars should his meat run short during the winter, not to mention all the other equipment he'll have in reserve."

They returned to watching the vid. When it ended, Jeff quietly asked. "You sorry you sent him to 2214?"

The General's head snapped around, and had it not been Jeff, the response would have been drastically different. But with the Prime, Whitworth let out a sigh instead of a snarl. "No. I had no choice. He's a killer ... and the tribunal, of which you were a part, convicted him and chose his destiny."

"You and I have both killed – many times, Sir. And the last time I killed, it was in anger. I split a man from groin to throat, and did it without a thought other than I wanted him dead."

"Bullshit!" the General snarled, sitting up. "You were carrying out a death sentence. He, at least, had a chance with you. Hell, more than a chance. He trained troops in knife fighting. Technically, he should have won."

"But you knew he wouldn't."

"Oh, hell yeah," the General laughed. "I just wish it could have been me that carried out the execution, but you did bloody Ellen (his combat knife) for me. For that, I owe you, Colonel."

"My pleasure, General. I just wish the bastard could have suffered. Arlene almost died, and Helen was hurt and might very well have been killed, not to mention what happened to Arlene and Diana. All my wives were traumatized by the attack. Hell, I had nightmares about it. That bunch of assholes almost killed my whole family."

"But you had taught your wives to shoot..."

"And they saved us all."

The men sat quietly for a time, their thoughts their own. "So what are you going to do about him, Sir?" Jeff asked.

The General slowly turned his cup around and around, obviously deep in thought. Finally, "Right now, nothing. But I'm going to continue to swap out the probes every day for a while. He's piqued my curiosity."

After a moment, just to see what would happen, Jeff added, "A goodly amount of salt would let him cure some ham from one of those pigs, not to mention helping him save other meats for winter. A couple of thick blankets and a ski or snowmobile outfit would also go well come winter," Jeff added just to see what would happen.

"I didn't send him on a fucking vacation," Whitworth snarled, but it was obvious his heart wasn't in the rebuke.

"Of course a .50 cal would put paid to the next visit of ol' Smilodon," Jeff said just to tease.

By then, Whitworth knew Jeff was ribbing him a bit. "Well, if I did send him one, the concussion when he fired it might very well bring the roof of the cave down on his ass. Dead saber tooth, but dead cave man, too," he finished with a chuckle.