The two kids ducked back down behind the box. Ben couldn’t help but smile. Kids, it seemed, were kids no matter what planet they were from.
After a minute, the two faces appeared again. Ben slowly turned his head toward them and locked eyes with them.
“Hi.”
The kids nearly upended the box they were hiding behind as they turned and ran, their tails puffed to three times their normal sizes as they fled the Dark One overlord.
Ben smiled and grunted a short chuckle. He felt a little bad. He really hadn’t been trying to scare them, but he supposed he’d have probably done the same thing as a kid if he had attracted an alien’s attention.
Even so, the encounter helped brighten his mood. He was about to head back toward the tent, when he heard voices coming from the direction the kids had gone.
Turning back, he saw Alacea turn the corner. Her ears shot straight up when she saw him. The priestess collected herself and bowed to him from the waist.
“Hey,” he replied with a nod. “How’re you doing today?”
As if realizing that neither one could understand the other, the conversation stopped. Ben studied her closely. The Mikorin appeared different today somehow. Her tail seemed limp and lifeless and the tops of her ears, while not down against her head in anger, seemed to be pulled downward like the top of a dying flower.
“Everything okay?” he asked pointlessly. Knowing she couldn’t understand him, he pointed to her and gave her an exaggerated smile, pointing at either side of his mouth with his fingers.
What is that? she asked herself. She pointed at her mouth the same way and bared her teeth at him, making her look more angry than anything else.
“That bad, huh?” Ben commented. He tried to think of a way to ask her what was wrong, but as he did, the anger began to bubble back up within him. Did it matter what was wrong? Did he care?
Alacea cleared her throat. It was likely he would not understand and would just have to repeat herself later, but as the overlord, he may want to know about things like Bastia’s death.
His demeanor changed, as if the air inside him suddenly left him. The muscles in his face went slack. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She was no expert in how Dark Ones emoted, but it seemed to her that he understood, at least in part, what she had told him.
For his part it was easy to guess. One of her people had died, and if the way she used the knife was any indication, that Va’Shen had committed suicide. He wondered if it had anything to do with the humans’ presence here, and immediately called himself an idiot for even asking. It was obvious, and probably should have been expected. To many of them, it must seem like the world had come to an end.
He felt the anger slowly receding, like a teenager that realized it had been caught doing something wrong and was now trying to leave the room without anyone noticing. The Va’Shen had killed a lot of people.
And so had he.
He looked up and found Alacea walking past him.
Ben watched her go and wondered what kind of dreams she would have tonight.
Ben was at his final stop of the afternoon, the observation post halfway up a tall, rocky ridge that overlooked the cave-in and the Rangers and SeaBees working there. At the top he found Specialist Shinzato and Private First Class Morgan leaning against the rock wall of a small ledge that stuck out from the side of the ridge. Shinzato was heating two MRE bags while Morgan looked through a set of binoculars, a long-barreled, scoped automatic rifle leaning against the rocks next to him.
The Rangers didn’t jump up or salute. They knew better than to give any indication that Ben was an officer and therefore someone worth shooting.
“Good morning, Sir,” they each said in unison.
“How are you guys getting on up here?” Ben asked. He turned and looked out at the view. Far below he could see the other Rangers and SeaBees moving around the cave-in like ants in a diorama. Most of the dirt had been excavated, and there were only a few meters left to go.
“Beats digging, Sir,” Morgan told him truthfully. “Nice view too.” He passed the binoculars to the captain, knowing that Ben would want to know for himself how much they could and couldn’t see from their position.
Ben put the binoculars to his eyes and peered at the men and women working below. Some of the binoculars’ functions, the range finder and infrared, didn’t work due to the Fuzz, but he could see enough.
“Top of that ridge, one o’clock,” Morgan went on. “That’s where we’ve seen scouts come out. That rock outcropping at the top. There’s a cave or a hole there.”
The Ranger officer grunted as he looked at it himself. Given how high it was, he could see how it would be difficult to move the entire village up and out that way.
“A lot of scouts?” he asked.
“You can’t see him right now,” Shinzato said, passing a steaming bag and a spoon to Morgan. “But there’s always at least one there. Every so often, he’ll slip up and you’ll catch a little movement. Not like they were on Epsilon, though. You can tell it’s a civvie.”
“Well, as long as they don’t take a shot at anyone, they can watch all they want,” Ben said as he handed the binoculars back to Morgan.
“What do you want us to do if they start making a break for it?” Shinzato asked.
“I don’t think that’s an issue,” Ben told them. “But if you do see them, send someone to tell me. It would take them hours get everyone out of that hole.”
What if they do run?
That would be a headache, wouldn’t it? If they just threw down everything and all ran for the trees.
No, it wasn’t time to get pessimistic now. The village leadership had agreed, and they both knew the other choices were just plain bad.
Hopefully, the Va’Shen would continue to see it that way.
Morgan, still looking through binoculars, froze, his view focused on one area at the top of the ridge.
“I got movement,” he said.
“Where?” Ben asked.
“The other entrance,” he said, passing the binoculars back to Ben and raising the DMR to look through its scope instead. “People coming out.”
Ben focused his gaze on the entrance which now had several Va’Shen emerging from it. The group seemed to be in no hurry or have any sense of urgency. They weren’t taking up firing positions or even attempting to conceal their presence.
“Don’t shoot,” he ordered. He didn’t think it was really necessary, but accidents happen.
“Tracking,” Morgan said in reply.
The Ranger captain saw a familiar head of purple hair emerge from the cave, followed by another Va’Shen helping another move something long and heavy from the cave, wrapped in a red blanket.
“You can stand down, Morgan,” Ben told him. “It’s a funeral.”
“A funeral?” the marksman asked.
Ben nodded. “They had a suicide this morning. It must be for them.”
“Sucks for them,” Morgan commented.
He said nothing, silently watching as Alacea knelt at each side of the body in turn while the other Va’Shen watched, touching it with her fingertips at regular intervals and touching her own forehead before raising her hands as if surrendering.
“Good luck, lady,” Morgan threw bitterly to the other hilltop. “Your god’s bullshit.”
“None of that shit in front of them, got it?” Ben snapped. “Matter of fact, just don’t say shit like that, period.”
“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir,” Morgan replied, chas
tened.
Ben sighed. He didn’t want to just tell his Rangers to shut up without telling them why. They all had to understand that this was a new mission, and it had its own rules.
“You can’t disrespect their dead,” he told the two of them evenly. “They’re beaten, but you gotta leave them with something. A people will take insults to their leaders or even themselves. They won’t take disrespect to their dead.” He looked to the two of them and went on. “We’d want the same from them.”
“To the living we owe respect,” Morgan countered. “To the dead none but the truth.”
“Who said that?” Shinzato asked. “George Washington?”
“Voltaire,” Ben answered before Morgan could. Morgan was one of those less and less rare occurrences in the Army; an enlisted soldier who came in with an advanced degree and chose to go into combat arms. If you asked most of his other troops who Voltaire was, they’d answer by telling you how much they loved his latest rap album.
Ben chewed on the counterargument for a moment before answering it. “Fine. Shit-talk them when you’re dead. Until then, respect.”
“Hua, Sir,” Morgan replied, his tone suggesting that he thought the topic had gone on longer than it should anyway.
The captain chewed his lip. He had a feeling the topic would come up again, probably more times than he would like.
It took a little longer than anticipated, so they didn’t meet for breakfast, but by the time brunch rolled around, the tunnel entrance was clear and wide enough for two people to walk abreast, and Ben declared it good.
Unfortunately, getting a few hundred people and all their possessions and supplies through that entrance took more time, and it wasn’t until close to noon that Yasuren, Bao Sen and Alacea were ready to declare that they had everyone, and no one had been left in the cave.
The field that nestled up against the cliffs was packed with Va’Shen, making it look like an outdoor rock concert. Ben’s people watched from the tree line and the observation post, being careful not to rattle the crowd of nervous fox people. To their credit, the Va’Shen seemed content to wait patiently until everyone was ready to move out, and spent their time talking amongst themselves and trying to get their more impatient children to settle down.
The weather also seemed to be willing to be patient with them. The sun was out, and the sky was clear while a gentle mountain breeze kept everyone from getting too hot. It was perfect marching weather.
Despite all this, Ben was irritated by the delays. There was no hope now of making the trip to the foot of the hills by nightfall, and he didn’t remember many places along the trail that looked big enough to accommodate so many people to camp for the night. They would end up strung out along the trail, making security practically impossible.
“I think they’re just about done,” Patricia told him as she joined him at the cave entrance.
Ben shook his head and grimaced. “Four-hour delay,” he said. “I was hoping for better time.”
“I guess we should be thankful it didn’t take longer,” she said.
Ben jumped and turned, his grimace unconcealable now. Alacea stood behind him.
“Alacea,” he bit out with a short bow.
The priestess’s tail twitched, confused by his facial expression and the way he said her name.
“They’re ready to roll,” Patricia translated.
“Great,” he replied in obvious relief. Hefting his M-31, he started toward the front of the procession and raised his hand. “We’re moving!” he called to the Rangers. “Carter, take point! Baird, walk drag. Make sure we don’t lose anyone.”
The young corporal from the 40th ID trotted to the front of the crowd.
She reached out and caught Pavastea by the sleeve of her monpei as she was walking by.
Ben watched the pink-haired girl rush to the front of the group and raise her hands, speaking to the other Va’Shen for a moment before clearing her throat. The girl began to sing a jaunty song and waved for the tods and vixens near her to join her. Before long, Ben could hear hundreds of Va’Shen singing along as they walked.
Hestean remarked to no one in particular.
The remark caught Ben’s attention, and he turned to the Mikorin who had joined them. Alacea noticed and turned to him, bowing formally.
“This is Hestean,” Patricia translated. “I think she’s a storyteller or something like that,” she said. “But she’s a Mikorin like Alacea.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ben said with a short bow.
Patricia didn’t catch some of the Mikorin’s words but went by context. “Ditto,” she finally said.
Ben didn’t press the conversation. Trying to speak to the Va’Shen through a translator was frustrating. He wondered how long it would take him to pick up the language himself. Instead, he watched the Va’Shen villagers walk by. Most of them were vixens, but some were older tods. A few were muscular, younger males like the one Ramirez had fought. They were the ones tasked with carrying the heavier baskets that hung from tent poles carried between them. Most wouldn’t meet his gaze, but some, specifically the young tods and the Huntresses, glared at him as they passed.
The Army officer had spread his people throughout the line, more to avoid the appearance that they were trying to box the villagers in than anything else. He knew he’d feel pretty nervous if he had to walk with a bunch of armed men following him. Ramirez walked by him and gave them a wave; the Huntresses he walked next to, one of them Bao Sen, looked less than pleased by his company.
He turned and found Patricia immersed in a conversation with Hestean and Alacea. Rather than intrude, he turned away again and went back to watching the Va’Shen.
Hestean’s ears twitched with understanding.
Patricia looked lost and didn’t reply.
Alacea seemed to sense her puzzlement.
The interpreter understood enough of this to nod.
Patricia arched an eyebrow, sure she hadn’t understood.
Hestean’s tail twitched.
Hestean bowed to her. she said graciously.
Hestean’s ears twitched in mirth.
The two Mikorin found themselves walking amidst a group of young Va’Shen women, some holding kids to their chest as they walked. Alacea looked up at the sky for a moment, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face.
Hestean’s tail whipped from side to side in pique.
The historian thought for a moment.
The Vixen War Bride Page 20