Slash and Burn

super napalm and some enterprising spark had the bright idea to use it to clear jungle. There has to be something in that mountain to make it all worthwhile.”
    Dtui had broken out the space rations and water. They sat in the shade of a bellyache tree that had held out against the bombs and the napalm and somehow survived. Phosy wasn’t interested in eating. He threw back a cup of water and said he had to take a leak. He walked around to the rear of a ridge of dislodged boulders and began to work his way up to the cliff. He was a slave to his curiosity. A man less fit than Phosy might not have made it over the debris. It wasn’t an easy climb. But the scramble over the rocks left him barely winded. He knew he could be up and back before the others had finished their lunch. Geology wasn’t his strong point but the multicoloured veins in the boulders all around filled him with wonder. It wasn’t their beauty that impressed him, rather the fact that these whites and browns and greens had taken thousands of years to form and he was so new compared to….
    The bullets peppered the overhang beside him and sent shards of rock into the side of his face. One caught his eye. He recognized the yap yap of an AK47—a second burst and he was on the ground now, his body pressed tight up against the cliff face. There was no cover. The shots were coming from above—far to the right. Blood stung his eyes so he couldn’t see the shooter. He tried to make himself as small a target as possible but he knew it would only be a matter of time before one of the 7.62 shells found him. At the end of the second volley, he heard a familiar voice.
    “He’s one of ours, you idiot,” shouted Commander Lit. “Hold your fire.” There were a few seconds of silence before the shooter’s own voice echoed down from a cave entrance.
    “How am I supposed to know that?”
    “Because I’m telling you.”
    Although Phosy couldn’t see, he could tell the security commander’s voice was coming from not far down the slope. He’d been following the inspector up the mountain.
    “And who are you?” asked the shooter.
    “Well, soldier, unless you stole that PL uniform you’re wearing, I’m your damned commanding officer so—”
    “I don’t know that.”
    “No, that’s true. You don’t. But my duty papers are in my pack here. If you think you can hold back from killing the pair of us, I’ll take them out and show you.”
    “I’ve got my orders.”
    “So have I. I’m Commander Lit Keovieng, previously security head in region five. Currently on special duty in Vientiane. The man you just shot at is the inspector of police in Vientiane. If you kill either of us you’ll be in front of a firing squad before supper time. Now put down your weapon and get down here and look at these papers before I climb up there and pull you down.”
    There was another silence.
    “They didn’t tell me anyone was coming,” said the shooter.
    “They didn’t tell me anyone would be here trying to kill us,” said Lit.
    “I’ll have to radio it in.”
    “Are you relayed to Phonsavan?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Then tell Captain Chuan that Commander Lit is here from Xam Neua.”
    “Right. Don’t go anywhere.”
    “I’m going up to look at my colleague, if you don’t mind. Wouldn’t want him bleeding to death, would we?”
    Lit climbed the final twenty meters where he found Phosy bloody but grinning.
    “That was madness,” Phosy said.
    “Nonsense.”
    Lit removed a cloth from his shoulder bag, spat on it and started to clean Phosy’s face.
    “You bleed a lot for someone with no wounds,” he said.
    “Thank you.”
    “What for?”
    “Saving my life.”
    “I did no such thing.”
    “Standing down an armed guard. He could just as easily have shot you too. You aren’t in uniform. That was a brave thing you did.”
    “I doubt he could hit a tank from two meters.”
    “You’re probably right, but, thanks.”
    They were hit by a small avalanche of pebbles from above as the shooter, his weapon now over his shoulder, scrambled from his roost to join them. He was wearing flip-flops so much of his descent was on his backside. He smiled a set of dark brown teeth.
    “Comrades,” he said, holding out his hand. “No hard feelings, eh?” Phosy shook the hand. The shooter’s salute to Lit looked more like a backhander to his own ear.
    “Commander,” he said. “Just following orders.”
    “I’m sure you were.”
    “Truth is, they told me to shoot