The Solaris Book of New Science Fiction, Vol. 2

by George Mann

  “We need… many things.” Yao managed a weak smile, conscious of the outline of the knife through the fabric of his suit.

  Thien raised her voice and spoke a string of strange syllables to the Mexica. Then she turned and said to Yao, “I just explained to him that without a bite of food from time to time, there’s no point in giving us water either.”

  The Mexica’s expression remained affectless, but he reached into a pouch attached to his surface suit’s belt and pulled out a slim package. He uttered a few short syllables, and then threw the package over to Thien.

  “What is it?” Yao asked as Thien struggled to open the strange container.

  “Food, I suppose,” Thien answered. “If you want to call it that.”

  Thien pulled out a few pieces of flat bread, some freeze-dried strips of beef, and some sort of dried grain.

  “It’s no feast,” she said, “but it beats starving.” She pulled off a piece of the bread, wrapped it around a strip of beef, and handed it to Yao. “Well, at least we’ll be well-fed when we’re sacrificed to their heathen gods, no?”

  The meat was stringy and the flat bread was stale and tasteless, but with a few mouthfuls of water and a few bites of food in his stomach, Yao felt marginally better. Thien helped him reposition against the wall. With some of his weight shifted off his spine, he was able to breathe a little easier. Though he could still speak only in a whisper, it caused him less pain to do so.

  When Thien and Yao finished the last of the ration package the Mexica had thrown over, the warrior spoke a few words.

  Thien laughed and nodded.

  “What did he say?” Yao asked.

  “He said, ‘The food is horrible, isn’t it?’”

  Yao tried to remain stoic, but couldn’t keep a slight smile from tugging up the corner of his mouth.

  As the shadows deepened, the Mexica shook his head sharply and muttered a few guttural syllables, his eyes on Yao, his grip tight on the fire-lance across his knees.

  “He wonders why you look at him with such hatred,” Thien translated. “He says that you never stop staring at him, as though you’re calculating how much blood you could squeeze from his body.”

  Yao’s lip curled in a snarl. “The Mexica are the blood-hungry ones, not me.”

  The Mexica jerked his head, indicating Yao, and fired a few syllables at Thien. She nodded, glancing at Yao, and replied. Then the Mexica shook his head, a few times quickly, and began to speak.

  “Blue-green Feather asked what you said,” Thien explained, “and when I translated, he said that you don’t know what you’re talking about. He says” - she paused, listening closely - ”he says that everyone in the Mexic Dominion knows what became of the first Mexic expedition to the red planet, and that…”

  Thien trailed off into silence, averting her eyes.

  “What?” Yao asked. “What is he saying?”

  Thien drew a heavy breath before continuing. “He says that the Mexica were on the surface of Fire Star before the Middle Kingdom arrived, and that when the Treasure Fleet reached the surface, the Mexica were still in radio contact with their superiors in the Place of the Stone Cactus. Those back at home were able to hear the sounds of the wanton slaughter of their countrymen.”

  “Bah,” Yao spat. “I’ve heard that bit of propaganda before. It’s nonsense, and a lie. Everyone knows that the Middle Kingdom reached Fire Star before the Mexica, and that the Dominion had to manufacture some excuse to explain away their failure in the race to the red planet. Instead, they came here years after us and tried to undermine our efforts to make this a living world.”

  Thien averted her eyes, refusing to meet Yao’s gaze. “No,” she finally said. “Blue-green Feather… he is right. I was there, remember.”

  “What?” Yao raised his voice, and immediately regretted it.

  “It’s not something that any of us in the Treasure Fleet liked to talk about in the long years that followed. But one of the first ground teams did come across a Mexic research facility and wiped them all out.” She glanced from Yao to the Mexic warrior, her expression pained. “I was brought in to review the Mexica’s research records - they were all in Nahuatl, and there were few of us in the Fleet who could read it. I saw the bodies myself, before they had been dragged out.”

  Blue-green Feather said something, Thien replied, and the Mexica let forth another torrent of words. Yao listened as Thien translated.

  “Blue-green Feather says that after the tragedy on the red planet the Mexic Dominion fell afoul of several calamities, including the meltdown of one of their atomic reactors. These setbacks, only worsened by their ongoing cold war with the Middle Kingdom, retarded the development of their space program and grounded them for more than ten terrestrial years. During that time, they watched as we continued to exploit the moon and made full use of our orbital facilities like Diamond Summit. Then we began colonizing and terraforming the red planet. When they were finally able to return to the heavens, the Mexic Dominion burned with the desire for retribution. And so they struck back at us where we were most vulnerable. Here on the red planet.”

  Yao blinked, disbelieving. “Well,” he said at length, “it hardly matters. Perhaps a few Mexica did get themselves killed when we first got to Fire Star, but the first blood between our two cultures was spilled long before that day, and not by Middle Kingdom hands.”

  Thien spoke to Blue-green Feather in Nahuatl, and then to Yao said, “He wants to know what you mean.”

  “There’s a story that not too many people know,” Yao began, “but it’s true, nonetheless. I had it from one of my commanders when I first joined the Bannermen, and he had it from a general in his own youth, and on back to the days before the First Mexic War. Back then there hadn’t been much of any contact between the Middle Kingdom and the Mexic Empire, as it was known then. The Dragon Throne had, generations before, shelved any plans to invade Mexica, preferring instead to create loose trade ties with the fierce nation. In the days of the Guangxu emperor, though, the Dragon Throne decided to normalize relations. They wanted to establish a formal embassy in the region, and open up diplomatic channels. Before that point, there had been no formal representative from the Dragon Throne to the Mexic nation since the last days of the Bright Dynasty. All communication had been back-channel discussion, primarily through merchants who traded with nations that dealt with both countries.

  The Middle Kingdom envoy was received by the Mexic Emperor in the Place of the Stone Cactus. He was asked to indicate which of his subordinates was most beloved. It was explained to the envoy that the emperor wanted to bestow special favor on this individual as a sign of good will. The envoy indicated his nephew, the son of his sister, who was an attaché with the embassy.

  The nephew was invited to arrive early at a celebration honoring the Middle Kingdom envoy. When the envoy arrived at the feast at the imperial palace, he was greeted by a barbarous priest of the Mexica wearing the flayed skin of the envoy’s nephew as a suit of clothes. The envoy wanted his guards to kill the priest on the spot but his subordinates dissuaded him. They pointed out that they were in the heart of a highly militarized nation, surrounded by warriors.

  The envoy stormed out, snatching the flayed skin of his nephew from off the priest’s back and left the Place of the Stone Cactus that very night. The Mexic Emperor, outraged, ordered all Middle Kingdom citizens currently within the borders of the Mexic Empire or any of its satellite nations to be expelled immediately. The war with the Mexica had begun, and the Mexica had been the ones to start it.”

  Blue-green Feather listened dispassionately as Thien related Yao’s story. When she was done, he laughed bitterly.

  “What is so twice-damned funny?” Yao snarled in a harsh whisper.

  “Blue-green Feather says that you carry the answer to the riddle in your story and don’t realize it,” Thien translated. “He says that the envoy’s nephew had been sacrificed to Xipe Totec, the Flayed Lord, also known as Red Tezcatlipoca: the ruler o
f the east, the red mirror, the god identified with the red planet. The rite signifies that with the arrival of spring, Earth must coat itself with a new skin of vegetation and be reborn.”

  “So there was some insane reason behind the murderous act?” Yao spat. “What difference does that make?”

  “Blue-Green Feather says that the Mexica are taught that unless lives are sacrificed to the gods who create and sustain the universe, all that lives will suffer and the world will end. Is it not worth the loss of a select few lives for the benefit of the rest?”

  Yao tightened his hands into white-knuckled fists. “They are bloodthirsty savages.”

  “Perhaps,” Thien said. “But I think it is their religion that has kept them primitive and unsophisticated.”

  Yao said nothing further, nor did the Mexic warrior. Instead they eyed one another, unblinking, across the shelter.

  Night approached. As the illumination from the skylight dimmed, the Mexica repeated his prayer of the previous evening. When he was through he was silent for a time, and then began again to speak.

  Thien originally thought that the Mexica was talking to himself. Then she thought he was talking to her, and then she was not sure whether the Mexica knew himself. She translated for Yao, as best she could.

  “Blue-green Feather says that he has taken four live prisoners to date - the number required to earn membership in the Order of the Jaguar Knights - and executed them himself to the glory of Left-handed Hummingbird before the eyes of his commander, Chief of the House of Darts. But now, after spending some years at battle on the red planet, Blue-green Feather has begun to question the Rightness of their war with the Middle Kingdom.”

  “Oh, has he?” Yao’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “So he says,” Thien answered. “He says that, when slaves of the Mexica are sacrificed to the gods, they know that they serve a larger purpose and go willingly to their deaths with – usually - a smile in their hearts. They call their captor ‘father,’ as he calls them ‘son.’ But prisoners from among the Middle Kingdom do not know anything of the gods of the Mexica. They go to their deaths stoic and stone-faced, with hatred in their eyes” - at this point in his speech, the Mexica indicated Yao - ”or pleading for mercy with tears streaming down their faces” - he then indicated Thien. “He wonders, do such sacrifices honor the gods?”

  “As I said,” Yao curled his lip distastefully. “Bloodthirsty savages who wage war only for the sake of taking lives.”

  “But Yao? Weren’t soldiers in the armies of the Dragon Throne traditionally encouraged to fight by a system of rewards determined by the number of enemy heads taken in battle?”

  “Yes,” Yao answered reluctantly, “in previous generations, maybe, but the practice has long since been abandoned.”

  “And are the soldiers in the Green Standard and the troops of the Eight Banners not given bonus payments when they are particularly successful in combat? When they kill more of the enemy than is typical?”

  Yao drew a ragged breath, the right side of his chest throbbing with pain. “Yes, I suppose,” he said at length.

  “If that is true,” Thien said sadly, “then at least Blue-green Feather’s people kill to honor their gods, who they believe sustain the world, and not just for a larger payment.”

  Later, in the middle hours of the night, Yao could scarcely see the Mexic warrior in the gloaming, only a few meters away.

  Thien leaned in close, her tone eager. “I think we might have made a real connection with Blue-green Feather. The Mexica is questioning what he has been taught about the Middle Kingdom, and wondering openly about the Rightness of the current war. Perhaps this is a turning point. If Blue-green Feather were to return to his people, this pointless conflict might be brought to a close. I’m positive that, should the Mexica find us, that Blue-green Feather will argue for us to be spared. I just know it. If the Middle Kingdom find us, you and I will have to do the same for him.”

  Yao said nothing. He kept his eyes on the dim outline of the Mexica in the darkness.

  The sun rose, and the chamber filled slowly with faint light. Thien drowsed at his side, but Yao sat alert with eyes open and watchful, like the Mexica opposite them.

  Suddenly, the silence of the shelter was divided by the grinding sound of the airlock’s outer hatch being opened.

  “Hey!” Thien said, coming wide awake and climbing unsteadily to her feet. “Someone’s coming.”

  Thien began to hobble towards the door.

  “I wish there was a viewport in these old lock hatches.” She glanced back over her shoulder at Yao. The bannerman’s eyes did not leave the Mexica, who tightened his grip on the fire-lance.

  “Could be anyone,” Yao said simply.

  The Mexica’s eyes followed Thien’s slow progress across the floor. They could hear the sound of air flowing as the lock slowly cycled. His dark eyes flicked expectantly towards the door.

  Yao didn’t wait another instant. Rolling to the right, ignoring the pain from his side, he snatched the knife from beneath his left leg. He rocked back to the left, flipping the knife backhanded and sending it sailing end over end across the room. With a high whistling nose, the knife buried itself in the Mexica’s right eye, sinking deep with a sickening squelch.

  Thien turned around, wheeling on her splinted leg. She stared with horror at the red ruin of Blue-green Feather’s face.

  “What… ?!” she shouted, gasping for air.

  “I had no choice,” Yao fell back against the cold wall, gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest. “I am a soldier of the Dragon Throne. I could not have done otherwise.”

  They could hear the airlock filling with air. Any moment now the hatch would swing open, and there would stand revealed either Middle Kingdom soldiers or Mexic warriors waiting beyond.

  “Look, Yao,” Thien said angrily, advancing on him, “even if our countrymen rescue us, we are only granted a reprieve for a short while. If this war continues, there will always be another like Blue-green Feather to take up arms against us.”

  “Perhaps,” Yao said unrepentantly. “But if you are right, then all that is required for the Dragon Throne to prevail is for there always to be men like me, to stand in the enemy’s way.”

  The hatch began slowly swinging open.

  “But what about peace?” Thien pleaded.

  “A soldier’s only peace is that of the grave,” Yao said.

  Thien shook herself, exasperated.

  They fell silent, both of them watching the door. In a matter of heartbeats, it would be open, and all questions would be answered.

  Fifty Dinosaurs

  Robert Reed

  After a long while in which nothing much happened, Kelvin spied an odd creature strolling peacefully across a distant clearing. For no obvious reason, he assumed that he was watching a sauropod. A brontosaur, or were they called apatosaurs these days? Whatever the species, it had a vivid orange body sporting a long neck and an even longer tail. It looked like a garish barn set high on four thick pillars. To Kelvin, the effect was cheap and a little silly, although he couldn’t say where those impressions came from, or why he was so surprised and maybe a little bit hurt when the dinosaur paid absolutely no attention to him.

  Without a second thought, Kelvin began to chase after it.

  Why that seemed reasonable was another mystery. But he ran until he was exhausted, and that taught him two lessons. First of all, he had gained a good deal of weight since his arrival. And second, this dimly lit, largely incomprehensible landscape was even larger than he had imagined. Just reaching the clearing took forever, or so it seemed.

  Kelvin collapsed against one of the giant gray pillars. After some curative panting he opened his backpack and removed a tall bottle filled with cool, delicious water. Head back, he drank his fill, eyes stared at the milky white sky. His pack had been lying beside him when he first woke in this very odd realm. Its water bottle was always filled. That was a lesson learned early, and he didn’t
puzzle over it anymore. And the satchels beneath the bottle were constantly jammed with tasty, nutritious, and oftentimes warm foods. There were also two changes of clothing, perpetually clean and neatly folded, and a toiletry kit complete with an endless roll of perfumed toilet paper. At the bottom of the pack, under the balled-up white socks, somebody had painted a twisted black symbol on the pale blue fabric that matched the substantial tattoo Kelvin had discovered emblazoned on his own chest.

  The symbol meant “37.” He felt sure about it, but why he should be certain was another nagging mystery.

  What was this place? And how much time had passed since his arrival?

  Those were two more perfectly respectable questions leading to the critical issue of who might have brought him here, and why. Because some force or agent had to be responsible, and in Kelvin’s bones, he felt that some grand purpose was at work in this enormous and exceptionally strange realm.

  Following habits that were weeks or months old, Kelvin ate his fill and then stripped, stowing his sweaty clothes before putting on fresh garb. But as he struggled with the tight-fitting trousers, a big mouth somewhere behind him took a sudden deep breath. A moment later he heard long feet padding across the hard black ground.

  A second dinosaur walked around the pillar, sniffing at the dry warm air.

  Kelvin froze.

  This was no sauropod. By the looks of it the creature was a T. rex, except that its body was barely twice as large as Kelvin’s, if that, and its flesh was a strange combination of buttery yellow adorned with narrow crimson streaks. The dinosaur moved in a straight line, following a scent that might be hours old. (Calculating time was close to impossible here.) Those tiny front arms were held close to the muscular body. The stout tail rose high, revealing the bird-like cloaca. Then at what seemed like a random spot, the dinosaur bent low and took a huge wet breath. A quiet voice announced, “Don’t try it.”

  Kelvin gasped.

  “Are you going to try it?” the creature asked. Then it turned and looked back at him, the mouth changing in some very undinosaur-like ways. “You want to attack me. Don’t you, ape-man?”