by R. J. Leahy
Jacob shook with rage as he glared down at her from the podium, his dark eyes now blazing with a red fire.
"Corrupt and immoral whore! Put down thy weapon. Thou stands before the altar of God!"
She fired a single shot at his feet, sending stone splinters flying up at him.
"Don't lecture me, you bastard!” she shouted, pointing the barrel back at Esau. “I'm a soldier, Jacob. I have killed more men then you can possibly imagine. I won't hesitate to kill again. Or do you need a demonstration of my resolve?"
She lowered the barrel to Esau's crotch.
"Father!” shouted Esau. He had a large gash above his left eye, and his jaw was swollen.
"Hold! Do not shoot!” He spun around to the soldiers holding Samson. “Release the beast!” he hissed.
The guards hastened to cut Samson's restraints, and he leapt from the podium to stand shaking and wide-eyed at Jeena's side.
"Can you run?” she asked him.
Not yet able to speak, he nodded.
"Run?” Jacob railed, “And where wilt thou run to? Can thou truly believe that in all of Ararat there is a place we will not find thee?” He raised his arms to the massed men who were slowly inching their way toward her. “Behold the Army of God!"
Once Samson was released, she had hit the primer for the concussion cannon. A high whine emanated from the weapon, steadily increasing in pitch. Now, the sound abruptly stopped.
"Jacob,” she said, “behold this."
Pushing Esau to the ground, she leveled the weapon away from the amphitheater toward the city gates behind her and fired, throwing herself on top of Samson as she did.
The cannon erupted with a deafening roar. The blast ripped through the air, the massive energy wave striking the wall and exploding it into cloud of dust. The recoil wave instantly hurled back—a hurricane level wind that flattened everything before it.
As it passed over, she leapt up, pulling the kytar up with her. Everything was gone—the gate, the wall, the archers. All that remained was a gaping hole a hundred yards wide, ringed on either side by a pile of rubble. Her ears rang painfully, and a fine black mist fell over the plaza.
"C'mon, let's move!” she shouted to Samson.
Disorientated from the blast, he stumbled twice but quickly recovered and raced for the opening in the wall. Jeena took one last look behind her. Bodies littered the plaza, most knocked unconscious by the force of the recoil wave. On the dais, Jacob knelt clutching his head, his face twisted in pain and rage, a trail of blood running from his ears.
They raced well into the night, until the kytar was foaming and stumbling and even Samson was beginning to breathe hard.
"Okay,” she said, dismounting, “let's take a rest.” They were deep into the desert but still days from her ship.
Samson looked back in panic. “No! We can't stop. They're right behind us!"
She knelt and grasped his shoulders, feeling him tremble under her fingers.
"Samson, the kytar can't go any further. Not even you can run forever."
"No! We have to go! They'll come for me. I-I...” And suddenly he pressed his face against her. He had not cried since he was a cub, and Jeena could do nothing more than hold him tightly and let the fear flow through him.
When his body had stopped shaking, she pushed him away and held his tear-streaked face in her hands.
"I'm sorry,” he said softly.
"Sorry for what? You don't ever have to apologize for being scared."
"You weren't scared."
"Like hell. My heart was in my mouth the whole time I was in the plaza. I'm just used to fighting in fear. Hopefully, it's a skill you'll never have to learn."
He reached up and touched her face.
"The skin under your eyes is turning black."
Jeena touched her face. “Probably from the concussion cannon. I must not have gotten down quick enough. I told you it's a dangerous weapon."
He gazed warily back west.
"Jacob won't come after us tonight, not after seeing the power of the MAAD. If he comes at all it will be with his army, and that will take a while to gather, especially since he no longer has any weapons."
"I heard a sound like thunder before you arrived at the plaza."
"That was his armory being turned into dust. Jacob is going to be busy rebuilding for some time.” She rose and began removing supplies from her mount. “Let's make camp. I want to give the kytar a break from the saddle."
There was not much wood to be found, and the fire was small and gave little warmth. They sat side by side and ate some of the dried meat she had found in the armory. Samson was unusually quiet, and she didn't press the conversation.
He's lost his utopian view of mankind, and that's going to take a while for him to sort out. I suppose it's a good thing. Maybe he'll think better of his own race now that he's seen the cruelty man is capable of.
But she knew something else had been lost on that altar as well—his innocence—and the thought saddened her.
"Why do they hate me?” he asked finally.
"Don't dwell on it, Samson. Jacob is mad."
"It wasn't just Jacob. I heard them all screaming for my blood. Those people didn't even know me, but they all wanted to see me die."
"Religion can make people do crazy things. Jacob has them all convinced you and your kind are evil, and that killing you is necessary."
"Why? Why does he want the tigras dead?"
"I'm not sure, but I sense there's more than religion involved. There has to be something else, something besides just a quick pass into heaven."
"Heaven—isn't that where humans go after they die?"
"That's what some people believe."
"Do you?"
"Not really. I haven't any proof that God doesn't exist, but then again, no one's ever been able to prove to me that He does."
"I'm not sure if I believe in God or heaven, either, but...” He stopped and stared into the fire.
"But what?"
"Nothing. I mean, I know I'm not human, but I mean, if there were a God do you think ... you know...” He sighed in frustration. “Never mind, it's stupid."
Jeena fought the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat. She waited until she was sure of her voice before she spoke.
"It's not stupid. And if any God would keep you out of heaven, He wouldn't deserve to be God."
They were both exhausted, and although she knew they should set watches she wanted them rested. The desert night was chill, and she shivered as she lay down on the bedroll she had taken from the armory.
"You can lie next to me if you want,” Samson said. “I know how you get cold outdoors."
"I thought you said I made you too hot."
"Well, I wouldn't mind tonight, if you don't."
She hesitated then scooted across the bedroll, curling up against him. Her exhaustion overtook her, and she was quietly snoring in just a few minutes.
* * * *
It was a dream. She was flying, soaring above a strange planet. The ground below was black and charred, the air thick with smoke and the smell of death. A great war had been fought here, beyond anything she had seen before. The entire planet was nothing but ash and cinder.
The image faded. Now she was on another world, but the scene was the same—everywhere the land was scorched and blotted, the sky dark and evil. This world too fell away, and a new one appeared, then another, and another. From planet to planet she leapt, finding only ruin and the silence of death.
Finally, on the last world, she saw a dim light and flew to it. There, amid the waste and destruction, stood a dark throne, and upon the throne sat a figure bathed in a golden light. His head was bowed in weariness or sorrow, and on it was a crown of many stars. She looked closely at the throne. It was crafted from the bones of the dead.
She flew nearer to the crowned figure, and as she did so he raised his head. Tears steamed down his face. He was trying to speak—it was a warning, she knew, though she did
not know how she knew; she could not hear his words.
Then, the light around him faded, and darkness surrounded her. Still, she had recognized the face of the being who sat upon that terrible throne of death. It was the face of a tigra.
It was Samson.
* * * *
She awoke with a gasp.
"Whoa, whoa,” said Samson, holding her gently as she struggled. “Bad dream?"
"What? Yes. Yes, I guess so,” she stammered, unsure.
"Want to tell me about it?"
She looked up at the golden face barely illuminated by the dying fire.
"I...” What was it? Something about Samson and a crown? But the dream was already gone. “It's nothing. I can't remember it now.” She closed her eyes and drew herself closer to him and had no more dreams.
* * * *
They made it back to their camp after a week of forced marches and found it in ruins. The tent had been slashed to pieces and the firepit broken. Their provisions were scattered, and there were dents and scratches on the ship
"I guess I should have kept my mouth shut,” said Samson. “I thought that if I explained who I was they would leave me alone. Instead, when they found out I had been living here with you, they went berserk, tearing the place up and trying to get inside the ship. Luckily, I had sealed it up after you left."
"Talking is the only reason you're still alive. A normal tigra they would have killed on the spot. Besides, it's just a camp. No real loss."
But in truth, she felt a great deal of loss. This camp had been her only home since coming to Ararat, and its destruction emphasized the point that they were truly on the run.
"I guess we can't stay here, can we?” Samson said wistfully.
"No. Jacob intends to destroy the Babylonians, but there's no guarantee he won't come by here first to deal with us."
"I suppose you're right. Do you really think we can find this guy Mordachi?"
She had told him of her encounter with Touloc in the prison during their run from New Jerusalem.
"We're going to try. We know he's somewhere in the Azulz. We'll just head north toward the mountains and hope we find a trail."
He looked skeptical. “Just head north? You call that a plan?"
She stooped down and began collecting supplies for the trip.
"No, you're right. We should just stay here and wait for the Rosh-dan to come by. I'm sure they'll be reasonable."
He grumbled an obscenity and began helping her gather provisions.
"I don't know if anyone has ever told you this before, but sarcasm is very unattractive in you."
They packed as much food and supplies as the kytar could carry, including the binoculars and the communicators. There was a small tent as part of the ship's standard provisions, and although it would be a tight fit for them both, they brought it as well.
Jeena strapped the handgun to her side and slung the MAAD over her shoulder. With the kytar already burdened, she would have to walk. She grasped the reins and, taking one last look at the place she and Samson had called home, began the journey north.
It was almost autumn, and the knee-high grass had returned to its golden color, the blades blending perfectly with Samson's coat. His movements were graceful, though Jeena knew his was not as fluid as that of other tigras. She had tried to get him to embrace the skills his species possessed, but he bristled at learning the ways of “those animals.” Still, several million years of evolution could not be completely denied, and he moved through the grass stealthily, his footfalls so silent she occasionally looked down just to make sure he was still there.
The heat of summer was just a memory, and the air was warm but not stifling. The walk was pleasant, and she puffed easily on one of her last remaining cigars, Samson padding silently by her side.
"So, I guess there's definitely going to be a war soon, huh?” he asked.
"Looks like it,” she replied, not taking the cigar from her mouth.
"What's war like?"
She removed the cigar and gazed down at him. “Noisy. As loud and chaotic as a thunderstorm and just as unpredictable."
"You've been in a lot of wars. Have you ... have you killed a lot of people?"
She said nothing.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. I'm just worried."
"You don't need to worry. We're not going to war. We're headed in the opposite direction."
"I know, but what if Jacob wins?"
She gnawed on the cigar. “Touloc seemed to put a lot of stock in this Mordachi and his people. Between them and the Babylonians I'm sure they'll be more than a match for the Rosh-dan."
She smiled, but she was far from confident. Touloc had only learned of the true size of the Afridi army before his death, and the shock of that knowledge had been easy to read on his face. It was obvious he hadn't expected anything close to that number.
"Well, that's good,” Samson said.
They walked in silence for a while.
"Do you think this Mordachi will be okay—about me, I mean? I used to think I'd like to meet more people, but now I'm not sure. In the books humans all seem so smart and brave and nice."
"Some are like that,” she said, tossing the butt of the dead cigar away, “and some are like the Rosh-dan. And you can't tell which is which until you get to know them. I'm sure he'll be okay."
Actually, I'm not sure at all, but I intend to find out before I put you in danger.
"I'm just sorry your first experience with other humans was so bad."
"Yeah, well, I guess it was still better than running into a bunch of tigras.” He pulled a piece of grass and stuck it in his mouth, his mood for conversation over.
Chapter 13
Battle at altitude presents one of the toughest conditions a soldier can face. It should be avoided if possible. If you do find yourself in such a situation remember that your two worse enemies are cold and thin air. Cold saps the will to do anything but get warm. Hypoxemia reduces your ability to think and to move. A cold, slow, confused soldier is of no use to the Union.
excerpt from SAG Survival Manual
Jeena leaned close to the fire, looking over the map Vicki had provided them prior to leaving the ship. They were only five days out, but the air was already cooler. The smaller size of the planet meant that they would continue to encounter steadily colder temperatures with every mile north.
Samson sat quietly near her. She had hoped his reticence would improve as they increased the distance between themselves and the Rosh-dan, but his mood did not recover. There was an air of melancholy around him, and he seldom initiated conversation.
She put the map away and rubbed her hands briskly.
"Wish we had some marshmallows,” she said.
Samson did not respond.
"What are marshmallows?” she continued rhetorically. “Glad you asked. They're outrageously sweet blocks of foamy sugar. It's an old Earth custom to burn them on the end of sticks. I have no idea why, but they taste wonderful."
Samson nodded silently.
"C'mon, Samson, you have to snap out of this funk. I know you've been through a lot, but you can't let it consume you. Are you still worried about Jacob?"
"No, not exactly."
"What, then? I wish you'd tell me whatever it is that's bothering you."
He continued to stare into the fire.
"What am I to you, Jeena?” he asked, in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
"What do you mean?"
"What is our relationship? Am I your pet?"
"What?” She was startled and shocked at the question. “Where the hell did you get a crazy idea like that? Of course, you're not my pet."
He turned to her. “Jacob said you only took me in because you were bored, and that you taught me tricks just to pass the time. He said you could never really like me, not the way people like each other, because I'm just an animal. Is that true?"
Jacob, you bastard! “Dammit, no, it is not true. Jacob is a sa
dist. It wasn't enough for him just to kill you; he wanted to hurt you. They're lies, Samson. Put them out of your head."
"I've tried, but I can't. I keep wondering—if I were a man and not a tigra, would you like me different?"
Jeena was lost for an answer. She stuttered for a second then blurted, “I don't know what you mean. I like you fine."
Samson looked away sadly.
"Oh, c'mon, don't do that. Dammit, Samson, I don't know how to answer that. You're not a man, you're a tigra. I don't know, maybe in the beginning I did think of you as some sort of pet, but that was before I really knew you, before I found out what you really are."
"And now?” he asked.
"And now? Well, and now I don't think of you any different than I do humans."
"But I thought you didn't like most humans?"
Jeena stared at the innocent expression on his face and broke out in laughter, shaking her head.
"You just won't let me off the hook, will you? No, I suppose I don't. So, I guess that means I must like you better then most, doesn't it?"
He considered that.
"I guess so.” He shifted nervously, looking away. “Was it hard for you, Jeena, being out there all alone with only someone like me for company?"
"Someone like you? There's no one I would have rather been with than you."
He lifted his head, and for an instant their eyes met. She had looked into his eyes countless times, but now something different was happening. Holding his gaze in hers, she felt something—something she did not have a name for, but which made her instantly uncomfortable. She turned away quickly.
"Thank you,” he said.
She pushed the strange emotion away until it was gone.
"Don't mention it—ever. If anyone in my old unit ever heard me talking like this they'd think I'd gone space mad. I'm not the kind of person other people come to for comfort."
Samson smiled. “Yeah, well, that would explain why you're so bad at it."
* * * *
The flat, open land they had been crossing slowly turned into woods as they approached the mountain. Within a few days, the woods had thickened into a dense forest.