Survivors: Part 9

   The sun reached its noon position and still no progress had been made on the repairs. Osman leaned back against the pilot’s seat with an exasperated sigh. She was ready to admit defeat, to admit that the bird was too heavily damaged to ever get off the ground. The repairs had only led to more damage, one repaired wire connection only led to the rupturing of another. There was nothing that could be done. Not even the communications systems were cooperating enough to be repaired.

   After a few moments of struggling with the reality of the situation, Osman came to accept that they were on their own until the UNSC sent a search party out after them. It was something she hated to think of. Being stranded out in the middle of nowhere with Flame and Halsey was one of her worst nightmares. She would much rather be holed up back at ONI headquarters, well away from the two of them.

   She looked out into the belly of the Pelican. Flame was lying silently on the bench, one ear swiveled in Osman’s direction, the other toward the open. She was listening without looking.

   At the same time, Osman was aware of the fact that Halsey had stopped working and now stood watching her. She looked over at the doctor. “There’s nothing more we can do,” she said. Even getting communications back online had been a fight. The downed bird was in no mood for cooperating, and Osman thought it never would be.

   She pushed herself off the seat and walked out into the carriage of the Pelican. “Right now what we have to focus on is surviving, staying alive until the UNSC sends someone out to pick us up.” She needed to keep her Admiral role, to stay intact as commanding officer. They may have been out in the middle of nowhere, but that was no excuse for Osman to come undone.

   “Flame.”

   The cat perked up. She pushed herself into a sitting position.”Admiral?”

   “We’re out of MREs,” Osman said. “This bird was never stocked up for long-term missions as opposed to get in-get out. We need food. Can you hunt?”

   “Yes, ma’am!” Flame said eagerly. “Small mammals, mostly. Birds, mice, voles, rabbits. I caught a snake once.”

   Osman nodded. “Good, but we’ll need more than that. How’s your tracking?”

   “My tracking? Not bad,” Flame answered slowly. “I haven’t used it since I came back, though.”

   “Now might be a good time to get it back in shape, cat,” she said. She reached for a sniper rifle tucked away in the storage cubbies above the seats and grabbed two canteens. “You’re coming hunting with me. Halsey, stay here. If I find you gone, I will hunt you down and shoot you myself. Understood?”

   Halsey only nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She made herself comfortable on one of the seats.

   Osman watched the doctor for a moment, then decided she would be all right alone for a while. She hated leaving Halsey unguarded, but she needed Flame’s nose on this one. “Right. Flame.” She jerked her head toward the opening and headed out.

   Flame jumped off the seat with one last look at Halsey and trotted out after Osman.

   As they crossed the opened ground, Flame couldn’t help but take a look around and looked up at Osman. “What exactly are we hunting for, Admiral?”

   “Anything bigger than a bird or rodent,” Osman said. Flame thought she heard a hint of humor in the Admiral’s voice. “Preferably a deer.”

   “What’s a deer?”

   Osman stopped and stared at Flame. The cat stared back at her, orange eyes wide, questioning, and innocent. “You don’t know what a deer is?”

   “No, ma’am, there weren’t any in Africa.”

   Osman rubbed her neck, looking into the forest. She looked back at Flame. “Do you at least know what an antelope is?”

   “They’re the big orange horned things, right? Not the gray striped things.”

   Osman took a moment to think about it. “Yes,” she said, starting to walk. “That’s right. What we’re looking for is something like that. But it’s more of a gray color.”

   “Like Doctor Halsey’s hair?”

   “Yes.”

   Flame nodded seriously and plunged into the woods after Osman. She fell silent and walked quietly, shifting her weight around her paws. Osman did the same, her rifle slung over her shoulder.

   The Admiral guessed that Flame had taught herself to walk quietly when hunting, whereas she had learned the technique during her Spartan training before she had washed out.

   Flame tested the air as they went, and stopped every so often to double check for a scent or listen for a particular noise. Osman kept an ear out as well, listening for the rustling of bushes not related to the wind, and more importantly, for the sound of rushing water. Not only did the trio need to have food, but they needed to have water.

   Osman checked that the canteens were still hooked on her belt, and made sure that they would cause no trouble when she moved.

   Suddenly Flame’s ears shot forward and she hopped up onto a rock, alert. Osman stopped and listened with her. She could hear water running to the east of their position, faint, but there.

   Flame looked back at Osman, who gave her a nod, and the two set off in the direction of the stream.





   The pair stepped out of the bushes and onto the shore of a steady running stream. Flame bounded on ahead of Osman and crouched at the edge of the stream, lapping at the water. She raised her head and licked the stray water droplets off her lips.

   “Water’s cold, Admiral,” she reported. “And it tastes fine.” She lowered her head down and continued to lap from the stream.

   Osman slipped her rifle off her shoulder and laid it down in the sand, far enough away from the water so it stayed dry. She unhooked the canteens from her belt and got down on one knee. She unscrewed the lid of the first canteen, and dipped the container into the water, letting it fill. She did the same with the second, took a long drink out of it, and filled it back up. She hooked it back onto her belt and sat on the bank while Flame continued to drink.

   Finally the cat raised her head and licked her lips again. She straightened up and put her forepaws into the stream, then waded out into the gentle surf, letting the water swirl around her paws. She shivered visibly and lifted one paw. She looked at her paw, then at Osman. “Doctor Halsey advised me to stay out of water if I could help it,” she said. “Under-heating is just as bad for me as overheating.” She dropped her paw down and laid down on her side, her head kept out of the water by a rock. “But what she doesn’t know won’t kill me.” She rolled around in the water before she stood up and shook herself.

   A drop landed on Osman’s nose. She wiped it off and saw Flame looking at her apologetically.

   “Sorry, Admiral.”

   “It’s all right, Flame.” Osman was usually not always that forgiving, but this was a simple little thing that even she decided not to bother herself with.

   Flame smiled softly. She started to say more, but was cut off by a rustling in the bushes. Her ears and tail shot up in attention. She sniffed the air. Her eyes widened.

   Osman got up quietly and tried to see what was moving, but the brush was too thick. She looked to Flame, whose fire formed on either side of her head as antelope antlers. The message, although off, was clear: Deer.

   Osman picked up her rifle, checked it, and used the stones in the stream to get across without startling the deer. She checked once to make sure that Flame was behind her, and set off after the animal. She made sure her steps were quick and quiet as she followed the sound of moving leaves to a hill covered in trees and thick bramble. She took cover behind a pile of moss covered rocks and tree, and in the scope of her rifle spied a doe chewing mindlessly on the leaves of a bush. She had no idea Osman was there.

   The Admiral checked the direction of the wind. Satisfied that she was upwind of the doe, she set her scope on the deer’s head and pulled the trigger.

   The shot rang out clear in the forest, scaring off birds and small mammals, which Flame took the opportunity to catch, but the doe went down without a struggle. One shot to the head had done it.

   Osman slung the rifle over her shoulder and picked her way down the hill to the fallen doe. It was in good health, good enough to keep the trio going for two if not three days, so long as they rationed it carefully.

   She hog-tied the doe and looked around for Flame. She had a hard time believing she was unable to spot the cat’s bright orange fur among the endless greenery. Then, finally, as Osman was picking up the doe to head back without her, Flame emerged hissing from a bramble thick with a hawk and two mice in her mouth, and a rabbit slung over her back. Her eyes widened when she saw the doe in Osman’s grasp, and fire formed in front of her in the shape of a thumbs up.

   Osman gave her the same gesture, pleased with the catch the cat had made, and in such a small window of opportunity, and trudged back up the hill.