Trek It!

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Under other circumstances, the plaza would have been paradise to Mariko. The linguist would have loved experiencing such a vibrant, language-focused event on an alien world, humming with the exchange of ideas and the on-the-spot evolution of multilingual syntax.

  Unfortunately, yet again, she was too preoccupied with life-and-death concerns to enjoy what could have been one of the most exhilarating experiences of her life. Though she didn't know exactly what was coming next, she knew that the stimulating, scholarly atmosphere could erupt into chaos and death at any moment.

  Angling through the crowd, Oric led her and the others to one of the stairways flanking the plaza. Tightening the cloak around her, she followed the lexicons up several stairs, where they stopped to survey the area.

  "Look," Folcrum said to her after a moment. "That food vendor by the fountain."

  Peering out from beneath the hood of her cloak, she saw the fountain midway across the plaza. At a cart set up alongside it, two Vox served food to waiting lexicons.

  Though they were some distance away, she immediately recognized one of the vendors.

  "Nalo," said Folcrum. "His people are positioned around that and three other carts."

  Mariko saw a second cart parked on the far side of the fountain. The other two sat at opposite ends of the plaza, near the main entry points.

  Finally, she understood the Free Speakers' strategy. They had transported their arsenal inside the carts; once the shooting started, they would pin the lexicons between fire from both ends and the middle of the plaza, cutting off their escape.

  It would be a bloodbath.

  "Three of us to each cart," said Giza. With a clawed finger, he counted off threesomes from the group of twelve and pointed toward each trio's target.

  Mariko was relieved when he selected Folcrum and Yama to accompany her. She knew Folcrum best of any of them and felt a bond with Yama, who was gagged like she was.

  "You know what you have to do," said Oric, the black-furred elder. He coughed, and the intricate silver and white designs on his chest shivered. "We must go now."

  The four teams split up and headed for their targets…though Mariko wasn't certain which one her own threesome had been assigned. It was one of the carts near the fountain, but she couldn't tell which…at least until Folcrum led her to it.

  It was the very target she would have chosen on her own – the cart manned by Nalo himself.

  As her team approached it, she checked the handgun in her pocket and the rifle on her back. Their presence reassured her as she drew closer to the being who had been the cause of all her suffering on the planet Vox.

  To further his own ends, he had tricked her into using the forbidden word mazeesh in front of the crowd in the tower. Because of him, she had gone through hell and possibly lost her friends and colleagues forever.

  She hoped that she would get to see him receive his comeuppance. Helping administer it would be the icing on the cake.

  "Lexicons are more than walking dictionaries, Mariko," Folcrum said as the three of them maneuvered through the crowd to Nalo's cart. "Watch this."

  Leaning on the cart's boxy storage compartment, Folcrum addressed the brown-furred Free Speaker. "Three fil'chaka," he said pleasantly. "And what do you have to drink?"

  Naturally, Nalo looked distracted. "Lucat and oob'suela," he said, staring off across the plaza as he spoke to Folcrum.

  "I would like three chio vishi," said Folcrum.

  "No chio vishi," Nalo said irritably, sparing an annoyed glance at Folcrum before returning his gaze to the end of the plaza. "Lucat or oob'suela."

  "I see," said Folcrum, nodding. "Would you please excuse me for a moment?"

  "Whatever," said Nalo.

  With that, Folcrum turned, threw back his head, and emitted a piercing howl.

  All eyes in the vicinity locked on him immediately. All nearby chatter and activity ceased.

  Suddenly, Nalo's full attention was fixed on the white-furred lexicon.

  "Codamoxsu Voxlo!" shouted Folcrum, pointing at Nalo. "Codamoxsu!" he repeated, pointing at the other Vox manning the cart.

  Pieces of what Folcrum had said were familiar, but Mariko didn't recognize the combination and inflection. The closest she could come was "cutting up" or "butchering" the language.

  In front of a plaza full of lexicons, it seemed that Folcrum was accusing the Free Speaker of butchering the language.

  Immediately, lexicons from all around converged on the cart.

  "These two mangle our language every time they open their mouths," Folcrum told the crowd, pointing at Nalo and his confederate. "Here, of all places, in Speech Center, they show contempt for our rules!"

  "We said nothing wrong!" snapped Nalo, glancing around nervously at the surrounding lexicons. "He lies!"

  "Fellow lexicons and grammar police," said Folcrum. "We must reeducate these misguided souls!"

  Nalo tried to open the lid of the cart, but Folcrum leaned on it, holding it down. As the crowd of lexicons closed in around them, Nalo tried again to get the cart open.

  "Codamoxsu Voxlo!" shouted Folcrum.

  All at once, the lexicons pushed forward, reaching for Nalo and his partner.

  Yama joined the crowd, but Mariko hung back. Realizing that the situation had come to a head, she unsnapped the hip pocket of her uniform and drew the handgun.

  Swatting aside Folcrum, Nalo flung open the cart lid while his partner grappled with encroaching lexicons. The brown-furred Free Speaker swung out a rifle, but Folcrum and another lexicon latched onto the barrel and wrenched it away from him.

  Before Nalo could be fully subdued, however, the sound of weapons fire and screams erupted nearby. Some of the lexicons were distracted and looked toward the source…the food cart on the other side of the fountain, where apparently the effort to snarl the Speakers had hit a snag.

  Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Nalo flung aside the lexicons who were clutching at him and thrust his hands down into the cart. Wrenching out another rifle, he swept it in an arc, spraying the crowd with bullets.

  Folcrum and Yama were hit. As Mariko watched, they were jolted by the impact of the shots and dropped to the pavement.

  Nalo continued to fire, and Speech Center flew into chaos. Lexicons ran in every direction, screeching and seeking cover; a few kept struggling with Nalo's accomplice, but no one dared interfere with Nalo himself.

  Raising her handgun, Mariko took aim at the brown-furred heart of the storm. Though she wasn't a marksman, she had received weapons training from Martin Simon; she wasn't far from her target and believed she could hit him if he didn't hit her first.

  She took a breath to steady herself and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet struck Nalo in the shoulder, throwing him back, but he managed to hold onto his rifle. Immediately, Mariko squeezed the trigger again, but the shot went wide.

  In response, Nalo swung the rifle around and launched a spray of bullets in her direction. She would have been hit if not for the panicked lexicons who crossed her path, taking the shots meant for her.

  As soon as they dropped, she fired again, striking Nalo in the chest. With a screech, he jerked backward and plunged down behind the cart.

  Mariko charged forward, gun at the ready. Just as she reached the cart, it lurched toward her and toppled over; as she crashed down under it, her rifle was caught beneath her and rammed into her back.

  The next thing she knew, Nalo was glaring down at her. His bullet wounds bled profusely, and he had to exert great effort to haul himself to his feet…but he still held onto his rifle and seemed to have enough life left in him to use it.

  "Mazeesh," he said hatefully. "It's the right word for you."

  Bracing both hands under the edge of the cart, Mariko heaved. In Vox's light gravity, she was able to raise the cart and shove it forward.

  As the cart struck him in the belly, Nalo doubled over and finally released his grip on the rifle. The weapon slid across the cart and landed
on the pavement beside Mariko.

  Grabbing the rifle, she scrambled to her feet and swung the barrel around, directing it at Nalo's head.

  As he pushed himself up from the cart, the Vox bared his fangs at her. "Mazeesh," he hissed.

  Mariko's finger tightened on the trigger. Her heart pounded.

  The cause of all her troubles was there before her, in her sights. With the flick of a finger, he would be gone.

  If their positions were reversed, she was certain that he would not hesitate to do away with her. In fact, she had no doubt that if he managed to muster the strength, he would try to kill her now.

  But she had never killed before. She hesitated.

  Breathing heavily, Nalo raised himself a little further. Locking eyes with her, he seemed to take her measure…and grinned.

  He drew back, getting ready to spring, and Mariko knew she had only an instant in which to take action.

  Her decision seemed clear-cut: kill or be killed. She thought she would be perfectly justified in killing him; in truth, she would be doing the lexicons and the entire planet a service. She could do more damage in the long run by leaving him alive.

  So what if she hadn't killed before? There was a first time for everything.

  Just as he leaped, she made up her mind and pulled the trigger.

  *****

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Instead of hitting Nalo's head, the slug blew into his hip. Screeching, he twisted in mid-air and came down short of Mariko, slamming onto the overturned cart.

  As he wailed and clutched at the wound, she reversed the rifle in her grip and swung the butt against his skull. He twitched a few times before he stopped moving.

  But she could see that he was still breathing.

  She had made a choice that she thought she could live with. Though Nalo might still die from his injuries, at least she wouldn't have to carry the memory of killing him at point blank range while he stared her in the face.

  Unfortunately, incapacitating him didn't solve all her problems. The pandemonium in the plaza continued; from all directions, she heard gunfire and screams of panic and pain.

  And in the midst of the madness, her two Vox allies lay bleeding on the pavement, kicked by the passing feet of stampeding lexicons.

  Pushing through the torrent of fleeing creatures, Mariko hurried to her teammates and dropped to her knees between them.

  Yama was so still, Mariko thought she was dead even before she felt in vain for a pulse. Seeing her like that, lying motionless on the ground with the gag still in place, threw a stab of pity and grief into Mariko's heart.

  When she turned to Folcrum, she realized that he wasn't in much better shape. Even as she watched, blood pumped from his gaping chest wound and his eyes fluttered shut.

  Gently, she stroked the soft silver fur of his brow. She wished that she could save him; he had used her, but had done so with compassion, and only to save lives.

  His eyes flickered open, and he stared up at her sadly.

  "Mariko," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "The rest of your secret."

  She shook her head, wanting only to relieve his suffering. She removed her cloak, no longer caring if she was identified and attacked, and placed it over him.

  Folcrum coughed up blood. As Mariko applied pressure to the cloak over his wound, he reached up and took hold of her wrist.

  "The Vox people…were not the true mazeesh," he said. "The mazeesh…were the visitors…from the stars."

  Mariko frowned. She wanted him to save his strength, but the implications of what he had said were startling.

  "Yes," said Folcrum, nodding weakly. "We…hunted and killed…them. All for the part of them…in here," and he tapped the side of his head, "that was said to bestow…fertility."

  Coughing spasms wracked his body. It took him several moments to catch his breath…and when he spoke again, his voice was fainter and more ragged than ever.

  "The Vox…rewrote history," he told her. "No one remembers…and there are no records…except the Garden."

  Folcrum's body convulsed, then went limp. Under Mariko's fingers, the cloak was soaked in sticky blood.

  It seemed to take everything he had left to scrape out his last few gasping words. "Perhaps," he said, so softly that she had to bend her ear to his lips to hear, "the true mazeesh…have returned."

  Then, his head lolled to one side and he breathed his last.

  Kneeling beside him, surrounded by chaos and murder, Mariko stroked his forehead a final time.

  As she slowly drew the bloody cloak up over his head, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

  *****

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mariko wasn't thinking straight as she got to her feet. For a moment, she stood and stared down at the lifeless bodies of Folcrum and Yama, riveted by grief that was surprisingly strong considering how briefly she had known the two.

  In a daze, she stumbled away from them, guided by a half-conscious impulse to seek out Oric or Giza, the only other underground lexicons she really knew.

  Shrieking Vox elbowed her on their way past; twice, they nearly knocked her over. The scattering lexicons were in such a panicked rush to escape nearby gunfire, they didn't seem to notice that she was carrying a rifle herself.

  Moving away from the shooting, she searched the crowd for Oric and Giza. Even in the pandemonium, she knew she could pick out their elaborately painted bodies from among the fur-covered swarm.

  When she thought she'd caught a glimpse of Giza near the plaza's edge, she headed in that direction. It wasn't until she'd walked a few meters further that she realized she was drawing attention.

  Looking to one side, she saw two Free Speakers pushing toward her through the crowd, carrying rifles. They stared right at her, leaving no doubt that she was their target.

  Instead of running from them, she chose to stand her ground. Raising her own rifle, she drew a bead on one of them and slid her finger around the trigger.

  The two Vox stopped and swung the barrels of their weapons in her direction.

  Then, before anyone could fire a shot, the gunmen disappeared. A stream of fleeing lexicons darted in front of them…and when the lexicons were gone, so were the two Free Speakers.

  Mariko's heart pounded. Convinced that the Speakers had split up and were sneaking around from either side to outflank her, she kept her rifle at the ready. Scanning the surrounding crowd, she slowly took a step forward.

  Suddenly, a fur-covered body leaped at her.

  Mariko tried to twist away at the last second, but the Vox slammed headlong into her. She toppled backward, the rifle springing from her fingers.

  And then, to her surprise, instead of hitting the pavement…

  She was caught.

  Someone had caught her from behind.

  The Vox who had struck her managed to stay on its feet and raced off into the crowd…just another fleeing lexicon, after all, and not a murderous Speaker.

  Mariko reached back for one of the arms that had caught her, expecting to feel fur – maybe a Speaker, maybe a lexicon – and caught her breath.

  Cloth. Instead of fur, she felt cloth.

  The hands that held her lifted and pushed her forward. As soon as she got back on her feet, she spun around to see who was back there.

  And for a moment, she was so overcome with emotion that she just stood there and gawked. She couldn't believe her eyes.

  "Mariko," said the man in the Astrofleet uniform. "Boy, am I glad to see you."

  She flung her arms around him and burst into tears.

  Captain Swift hugged her just as tightly in return.

  *****

  Chapter Thirty

  When the podcraft descended into the square, the shooting stopped. Everyone's attention was drawn to the gleaming craft as it dropped toward the crowd.

  As Swift had instructed, J'Tull brought the shuttle down decisively. Vox scattered in all directions from beneath it, clearing a landing site.

&
nbsp; It was the second best thing Mariko had seen all day. The best – Captain Swift – stood beside her as she watched the pod's approach from a few meters away.

  "Now there's a sight for sore eyes," said Swift.

  Mariko nodded emphatically.

  "Wow," said Altis, one of Swift's Vox friends. He and several others watched the landing with rapt attention alongside Swift and Mariko.

  As far as Mariko was concerned, Altis and his group could stick around as long as they liked. Not only had they freed the captain and Zeke and brought them to the plaza, but they had tackled the two gunmen before they could shoot her in the crowd.

  When the shuttle touched down, Captain Swift signaled the two Vox carrying Zeke's stretcher, and they hurried forward. Mariko joined them, though there were plenty of hands to do the lifting.

  The shuttle's hatch opened, and Commander J'Tull emerged. Looking around, she met Mariko's gaze, but gave no sign of recognition or relief. It didn't bother Mariko one bit; it was exactly the reaction she had expected from the deadpan Hephaestan.

  "What's the good word, Subcommander?" said the captain.

  J'Tull stepped to one side as he guided the stretcher through the hatch. "The fleet has entered orbit," she said. "Squadrons of fighters are launching as we speak."

  "I asked for the good word, J'Tull," said the captain.

  Swift followed the stretcher into the shuttle, after which J'Tull and Mariko entered.

  As soon as she set foot in the familiar surroundings, Mariko felt at ease in a way that she hadn't since leaving the pod many hours before.

  "See if you can raise the Exogenesis, Mariko," said the captain as he and the Vox situated the stretcher on the shuttle's floor. "They ought to be on their way to the rendezvous point by now."