The Vixen War Bride

by Thomas Doscher

  “Maybe food?” Sergeant Ramirez guessed from the other side of the hole.

  Ben grimaced. Three weeks on-world and four weeks into the first-ever interstellar war and they still didn’t know enough about the aliens to even guess at what these were. “Don’t touch ‘em,” he ordered. “Who the Hell even knows…”

  “Gives me the creeps,” Ramirez said, standing up and taking a few steps back. He turned and hefted his M-31 so he could at least give the impression he was posting security and not just trying to get away from the hole. Instead, he looked around him at Epsilon’s bizarre trees, pale pink with brown rings that grew in a series of loops, intersecting and looping around other trees until they seemed to make a natural net. It made moving around the forest nearly impossible, and the bright red leaves just helped their brown and green camouflage uniforms stand out in front of them.

  The rest of the small, flat ridge spread out before him along with the Rangers’ first big intel win. The alien camp looked like it had been slept in just that night, and a few laser rifles had been left behind, telling Ramirez that whoever was here must have left in a real hurry.

  Hobbes continued to stare into the hole at the pile of small, perfectly spherical crystals, each about the size of a baseball.

  “Maybe they’re eggs,” Hobbes theorized quietly.

  “Hell, man, for all you know that’s a latrine and you’re gazing lovingly at alien shit!” Sergeant Baird called from his post not far away, actually posting security.

  “Well, if they are eggs, you need to back-up, Hobbes,” Ramirez chimed in. “One of those hatches and a crab creature attaches itself to your face, and we’re going to have to shoot you before something worse comes flying out of your stomach.”

  “Whatever, Ramirez,” another Ranger replied.

  “I’ll do it too!” Ramirez declared.

  Ben ignored the byplay and turned to Burgers. “Baird, get Sword Maiden on the line,” he ordered. “Secure.”

  The African American NCO raised his left arm and started typing on the small keypad strapped to his wrist. Once done, he tapped the microphone attached to his helmet. “Sword Maiden, Sword Maiden, Slayer Red Six Romeo. Request secure.”

  “Stand by Slayer Red Six Romeo. Going secure,” a female voice chimed back. With no idea how good the aliens’ communications technology might be, every call back to the Tactical Operation Center had to be scrambled to the highest level possible, and it took a minute for the radios’ computers to link up.

  As he waited, Ben caught more of the other Rangers’ conversation.

  “Did you hear?” Ramirez asked. “Albertson, over in Second Platoon, saw one.”

  “Bullshit,” Hobbes replied. “Albertson’s a liar.”

  “No, seriously,” Ramirez came back. “Said he saw one for a couple of seconds through his scope. Intel guys interviewed him for four hours when he came back.”

  “So, what did he say they look like?” another Ranger asked.

  “Like a werewolf,” Ramirez told them. “Big tails, dog ears, eight feet tall, at least, he said.”

  The declaration was met with an unnerving silence.

  “You’re green, Slayer,” the woman’s voice returned.

  Ben tapped his mic. “Sword Maiden, Slayer Red Six,” he announced. “We’re sitting on an abandoned encampment. Transmitting coordinates.” He paused and pointed at Baird, who started typing on his wrist again. “Some weapons and unknown equipment. Camp was probably cleared out an hour ago. Estimate six hostiles, maybe more. Over.”

  “Screw that,” the other Ranger finally called back. “I didn’t sign up to fight no werewolves.”

  Ramirez turned to the man. “You are a literal space ranger,” he said. “What did you think you were going to fight out here?”

  “Little green men,” the Ranger replied. “Not shit with claws and teeth…”

  “Slayer Red Six, describe unknown equipment, over,” the woman on the other end of the call requested.

  “Spherical,” Ben said, looking for good adjectives. “Crystal-like… Maybe three inches in diameter. Times…” He looked up and caught Hobbes’s attention.

  “Uh… Twelve,” Hobbes told him after a quick count of the spheres.

  “Times twelve, over.”

  “Copy. Can you give us a visual?”

  “Hold one,” Ben said. He pointed to Hobbes. “Specialist, turn your cam on and get a visual for the TOC.”

  “You got it, Sir,” Hobbes sighed. He reached up to his helmet and hit the switch that turned on the high-definition video camera embedded into his helmet. Adjusting his stance, he leaned over the hole so he could get a straight downward view of the crystals.

  Ramirez tapped Burgers quickly on the arm and pointed at Hobbes. “Here it is! This is it! It’s gonna grab his face! Get ready!”

  “Screw yourself, Ramirez,” Hobbes called as he continued to film the unknown alien… things. “Burgers, you getting this stuff?”

  “Yeah, man, I’m transmitting,” Burgers told him. “You can stop now.” Hobbes pulled his head back, secretly relieved that Ramirez had been wrong.

  “Stand by, Slayer Red Six,” Sword Maiden said.

  Ben stood there and let out a breath like he had been put on hold by customer service. The other Rangers were silent for a moment. Then, as if to fill the void, the earlier chat started up again.

  “Maybe he was wrong,” Hobbes ventured. “Maybe they’re cute and cuddly… like teddy bears.”

  “Uh uh, don’t go there, man,” Ramirez said. “I watched this old movie with my dad, and these space soldiers were just minding their own business in the woods, and a bunch of teddy bears jumped out of the bushes with spears and rocks and shit and started murdering them!” He paused to let that sink in. “I don’t mind fighting werewolves, but no one wants to be the guy who got killed by a teddy bear.”

  “No one ever got into Valhalla fighting teddy bears,” another Ranger piped in his agreement from the other side of the camp.

  “Damn straight, man,” Burgers jumped. “I don’t want that shit on my tombstone in Arlington. ‘Killed in action by cuddly space bears?’ Uh uh! Not doing it!”

  “Slayer Red Six, Sword Maiden,” the voice in Ben’s earpiece came alive again. “You’re ordered to hold your position and await special analysis unit. They’ll take a look at your find. Meantime, don’t touch anything, over.”

  “Copy,” Ben replied. “ETA on special unit, over?”

  “Four hours, but if they can’t get back here before nightfall, they’ll probably wait until tomorrow,” Sword Maiden told him. “Recommend you establish a defensive position and hold tight, over.”

  “Copy all, Sword Maiden,” Ben said. “Slayer Red Six out.” He gave Burgers the hand across the throat sign to sever the secure connection.

  “What if they’re bunnies?” Hobbes was asking the others as Ben turned to address them.

  “All right, listen up,” he said. “We’re sitting on our little goldmine until the nerds get here, but I want to see if we can do better.” He pointed up a hill that overlooked the camp. “Let’s set up a little ambush in case these guys come back for their stuff. Ramirez, set up mines and flares. And no one touch anything!”

  “Yes, Sir,” came the replies. They turned and set to work.

  “Hobbes, let’s go,” Ben said to the man, who was still looking down at the spheres. The specialist started to turn when the dirt at the edge of the hole gave way and his foot slid into the hole.

  He locked eyes with Ben just as his boot struck one of the spheres.

  Ben’s eyes shot open as he quickly sat up from the blanket on the floor he’d been sleeping on. He gasped for breath and quickly looked around, the strange surroundings finally coalescing into a context that made sense for him. He took one last deep breath and let it out.

  He turned and found Patricia still asleep on the other side of the tent.

  “’Morning, Boss.”

  Ramirez was sitting near the tent fl
ap playing solitaire with an old deck of cards.

  “What time is it?” Ben asked him, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Parts of the dream floated back to him, enough to know he didn’t want to think about it further.

  “Morning abouts,” Ramirez told him. “Some of the Va’Shen are out and about already, cooking, packing, stuff like that.”

  Ben climbed to his feet and slapped his face a couple of times with both hands, chasing the last bits of sleep away. “I’m going for a walk,” he said, moving toward the tent’s entrance.

  “Should I come with you?” Ramirez asked, holding a card just above the longest line of cards in his game.

  “No,” the captain told him. He nodded toward Patricia. “You stay with her. I’m just going to get some air.”

  “You got it, Sir,” Ramirez said, finally laying the card down.

  Ben took a cautious look outside and then disappeared out of the tent.

  Chapter 10

  Alacea awoke to the sound of movement in their tent. Poking her head up from where she lay, she looked over the sleeping bodies of her fellow Mikorin and saw one of them moving carefully toward the entrance. Seeing it was Sho Nan, she assumed it must be early morning, and the Mikorin was on her way to oversee the breakfast preparations.

  She lay her head back down and closed her eyes, intent on sleeping just a little more. But a few moments later, she heard the tent flap open again. Barely a minute after that, someone was resting a hand on her shoulder.

  she heard a whisper.

  Opening her eyes, she saw one of Bao Sen’s huntresses leaning over her. Alacea asked her.

  the huntress told her.

  The priestess rose quickly, her sudden movements waking the Mikorin around her. She quickly straightened her monpei and her hair. she asked the huntress.

  They made their way out of the tent, careful not to disturb the other priestesses, and started down the camp’s main thoroughfare toward the cave wall opposite of where the Aderen had been held. Many of the water lamps that illuminated the camp had been extinguished to help better differentiate between day and night and had not yet been refilled. A look up at the cave ceiling revealed no light, telling Alacea it was still quite early.

  She understood that if the huntress knew more about the situation, she would have told her, so Alacea did not bother to press for details. The two walked quietly, turning twice until they came upon a dark blue tent nestled among others near the stone wall. Nothing about the place stood out to her save that Yasuren and Bao Sen stood outside the entrance.

  Yasuren looked at the ground, her tail limp and her hands clasped in front of her, the signs of great sadness. Bao Sen, as usual, was unflappable, but even she stole glances back to the tent entrance every now and again.

  The Mikorin approached them quickly but also a little cautiously. Alacea could tell there was going to be a story to tell, and going by the aura surrounding the other two Va’Shen, she knew it was going to be a sad one.

  Alacea asked immediately.

  Yasuren said nothing, just continued staring at the ground. Bao Sen spoke up in her place.

  she announced.

  Alacea’s tail began whipping about in shock. she asked.

  The Huntress leader took a breath and cocked her chin toward the tent.

  The priestess paused and took a breath of her own. As she stepped toward the tent flap, she went through the possibilities in her mind, all of which could be narrowed down into the two most important categories there could be in this situation.

  A death perpetrated by the Dark Ones, or one in which the Dark Ones were not involved. One type of event was tragic and sad, but one that happened in life. The other could be anything from a sign of things to come or the trigger to a rebellion and massacre.

  She slowly pulled the tent flap aside and looked in. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a middle-aged vixen with azure hair sitting with her back to the tent, directly facing Alacea. The woman’s ornate green and blue robes, the best the vixen owned, were completely covered in blood that was still seeping from the gash across her neck. Her right hand, laying almost casually at her side, held a six inch, straight edge knife, the blade covered in blood.

  Her eyes were open, but the light Alacea was so used to seeing in them was gone.

  Alacea whispered. It appeared obvious what had happened. She stepped back and lowered the tent flap slowly, solemnly, as if not wanting to inadvertently wake her. Turning she locked eyes with Bao Sen.

  Bao Sen concluded.

  Alacea swallowed back pain and looked to Yasuren, who still looked to the ground. Batria had been Yasuren’s distant cousin, and the two had spent time together often. she said quietly.

  Yasuren told her. The noblevixen paused before continuing.

  Alacea breathed.

  Bao Sen said, a subtle barb in Alacea’s side.

  The priestess ignored it. Yasuren turned and offered her a folded piece of parchment with her name on it. Yasuren told her.

  Alacea took the note. She imagined it was probably an explanation and a request for the Mikorin to pray for her spirit. It could also be burial instructions or where she wanted her and her tesho’s property to go. She opened the note and read it. It consisted of a single line.

  The Gods will curse you for what you’ve done.

  Alacea’s ears drooped, and her tail went slack. Slowly, she refolded the note and put it in the pocket of her monpei. she said quietly, her gaze rooted to the floor.

  Bao Sen noted.

  Alacea said painfully, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned to Bao Sen and lifted her eyes again.

  Bao Sen told her.

  Alacea asked her.

  the other vixen said.

  Alacea replied.

  Yasuren unfolded her fan and hid her mouth behind it.

  Turning, the Mikorin started back to her tent to find Sho Nan. It wasn’t until she was certain Yasuren and Bao Sen could no longer see her that she stopped in the path. Her hand went to her heart as her shoulders heaved, sharp hiccupping sounds coming to her throat. The Va’Shen didn’t cry in the same way humans did.

  But like humans, they tried very hard to make certain no one saw them when they did.

  He didn’t walk far.

  Perhaps three or four tents from theirs, Ben found a wooden box standing next to a red tent and sat down on it, lowering his head to stare at his hands folded in his lap.

  It was cool, almost chilly, and even in his long-sleeve uniform, he shivered just a bit. He was unsure what to do at the moment. He really didn’t feel like walking, and he wasn’t hungry. It was still a little early to do what he had planned, which was to take Patricia and Alacea and visit some of Pelle’s local VIPs and introduce themselves.

  Getting off on the right foot was important, he knew.

  Screw �
��em, he found himself thinking again, the anger and bitterness he often felt flung to the foreground of his mind by his dream.

  Hobbes, he thought. Poleski…

  Jessie.

  It would take days to list all the names, he knew.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of movement nearby. Another box, similar to the one he was sitting on, shook every so slightly. His eyes narrowed at the container one tent over and let his hand casually drop to his sidearm.

  Whispered voices floated to him from the box, but consisted of words he didn’t understand.

  Va’shen, he concluded. And if they were hiding from him, it wasn’t for a surprise birthday party.

  His side arm scraped quietly against the polymer holster as it began to slowly leave its confines.

  More whispers. Then, a pair of small brown ears cleared the top of the box followed by a pair of blue eyes. Seeing him sitting there, they quickly ducked back down behind the box. More whispers followed.

  Ben squinted at the box, his pistol no longer moving and having not yet cleared his holster. The whispers sounded like they were arguing now. If this was an ambush, it was a very sloppy one.

  Another set of ears, these bright pink, rose from behind the box, and eyes that followed this time were yellow. The Ranger subtly looked away and pretended not to see them, watching the wide eyes in his peripheral vision. His pistol once again rested snugly in its holster.

  The owner of the eyes whispered and rose a little higher, trying to get a better look at him. They jerked a little as someone tried to pull their owner down, but they wouldn’t budge.

  Ben continued to fake ignorance as a small Va’Shen face emerged completely from behind the box, staring at him in a mix of fear and wonder. A moment later, another face, one topped with brown ears came up next to the other Va’Shen child’s.

  They looked maybe six or seven years old, one a boy and the other a girl. Ben had come to learn that the male Va’Shen tended to have drabber, duller colored hair and fur while the females sported bright, vibrant colors and patterns.

  He made a show of checking his fingernails while the two watched him. Raising his hands over his head, he yawned loudly.