Sanchez was from eastern Kansas, he remarked that the village, the fields and the countryside reminded him of home. It reminded me of small town home, too. The houses were neat but not fancy, each house had a barn or workshop behind it. Back home, such houses would have a sign out front advertising the hundreds of side jobs rural people did to make ends meet. Honest work like selling fresh eggs, welding, small engine repair, hair cutting, log splitting, child care. My father thought you could combine tasks, like log splitting and child care. No more lazy kids sitting around with coloring books or playing with Legos, my father would say “You kids better have those three cords of wood split and stacked by five o’clock, or no juice boxes for you. And no crying if you hit your foot with the maul, walk it off. It’s just a flesh wound.” I may be exaggerating a bit.
There were vehicles in the road or fields and, even though they were clearly alien, they also reminded me of home. Every vehicle had a dented fender, or a body panel that was a different color. These were working vehicles, for working people. My kind of people. Except they were aliens, and they had attacked Earth without provocation. Now that I thought about it, I hoped neither of our two hamvees had been commandeered from this particular village, that would make for an awkward situation.
A male hamster walked partly into the street ahead of us and waved, in what I hoped was a friendly, or at least non-threatening, manner. I could tell he was male, because the fur on his face was a light downy coat all over; females had facial fur almost too fine to see. Also, males had bigger whiskers.
He was wearing overalls. Blue, denim-type bib overalls, with patches on the knees, an outfit identical to several my father wore for working around the house. And a straw sort of baseball cap, with a wide brim. The hat had a logo, was it a hamster sports team, or a seed business, maybe the logo of the company that made the tractors in the fields? I called a halt, got out, and told Sanchez to stay put, with the engine running. My rifle was on the seat, I had my sidearm, but otherwise was unarmed. Hearts and minds, I told myself, hearts and minds. See if we can start things off peacefully; I could get rough later if needed, but a rough start was hard to overcome. Besides, the pair of Chickens, weapon pods bristling, were hovering in plain sight, ready for action.
My zPhone was already set for Ruhar, I held up one hand, and said simply "Hello."
The hamster spoke into his own sort of zPhone type device. "Hello. Welcome to Teskor. Teskor is our village."
So the name of the place was 'Teskor', or that's what the translation sounded like. We hadn't been able to read the Ruhar script on the map. I pointed to my chest. "I am Joe Bishop." My rank I left out, not sure if 'sergeant' would be meaningful to aliens.
The hamster nodded. "I am called Lester Cornhut."
"Lester Cornhut?" I asked, surprised, I swear to God, that's what the translator said in my ear. We'd been told that names were not translated, so the sound of 'Teskor' and 'Lester Cornhut' came through just the way he said them, in the slightly squeaky Ruhar voice.
The hamster said "Yes", and smiled.
Baker asked me on the tactical channel "Did he just say his name is Lester Cornhut, or Cornhole?"
"Cornhut," I replied, with the translator function paused, "there's a 'T' sound on the end of it." The four of us got a good chuckle, and agreed that 'Cornhut' an excellent name for a hamster farmer. I turned the translator back on. "You are the leader of this village, the leader of Teskor?"
"No leader, no government here." He pointed from one end of the village to the other, I guess he meant a place that small didn't need any form of government. "I was chosen to speak with you. We will cooperate as instructed by," my translator made the humming sound it did when it didn't understand something, "and we hope your time in Teskor is pleasant. This is a good place."
Enemy species or not, Lester hadn't personally attacked Earth, may not have ever heard of our home planet. Hearts and minds, I told myself. We had a brief discussion, confirming he understood the date the people of Teskor would leave for the trip to the space elevator, and that we would be commandeering a farmstead on the outskirts of town. Lester told me they had already cleaned the place in preparation for our arrival, the family who had lived there lost a son when the Kristang took the planet back, and had moved away months ago to live with relatives. We put up our posters, drove to the other end of town and back, and the drove out to our makeshift Command Post. All in all, our entrance to the village was anticlimactic. After we got to the house where we'd be staying, I waved the Chickens off, and we started unpacking our hamvees. I left like we were children playing House. I sent a message to Shauna, but it didn't connect, possibly she hadn't landed yet.
That first night, I couldn't sleep much, I was too pumped up about my first command, even if it was only leading an experienced fireteam on a recon mission. Setting up our Command Post, I felt like a real sergeant, a leader. I took the first watch, and let the guys sleep, and toward the morning, I got up as sleep was elusive, and relieved Baker so he could get a bit more shut-eye. In addition to being excited, I was nervous; if the hamsters were going to do anything hostile, they were likely to do it our first night, before we got fully settled in with surveillance systems and ranged fields of fire around the CP. To keep watch, we had set up a ladder so we could climb up onto the roof of the house, that's where I was early that morning. The roof had the advantage of an excellent 360 degree view, it had the disadvantage that the person keeping watch was totally exposed to sniper fire. Our zPhones had a nifty feature that, if the person the zPhone was assigned to died, as in their heart stopped, the zPhone would alert anyone nearby. Which gave me the great comfort, as I sat exposed on the roof, that if a sniper picked me off, my fireteam wouldn't be taken by surprise.
UNEF thought Embedded Observation Teams of a four man fireteam, off by themselves in the middle of nowhere, were a great idea. Sitting on the exposed rooftop, in the wee hours of the morning, I was not so sure we weren't simply sitting ducks. In the early morning, when a person's thoughts can match the enveloping darkness, I wondered whether UNEF was hoping vulnerable EOTs would be attacked, as an excuse to show the Kristang what humans could do in combat. Lord knows the US Army had sent me out on patrols in Nigeria that seemed to have no point, other than exposing us to IEDs and sniper fire. It wasn't the Army family that I didn't trust, it was the politicians giving orders. Folks back home would be more excited hearing about humans in combat, than hearing about UNEF performing garrison duties that didn't generate headlines. Politicians certainly loved headlines.
Still, it was peaceful in Teskor. So peaceful, so quiet, sitting up there on top of the roof. Peaceful, and dark. With the planet so sparsely settled, there wasn't a lot of light pollution, Teskor seemed pretty dark at night, with no street lights, and only a single dim light here and there at the front or back of houses. I hadn't experienced darkness like this since I left electricity-starved northern Maine. Our base at Camp Alpha had been lit by floodlights at night, blanking out much of the sky. Here, sitting on a rooftop in the tiny village of Teskor, on the alien planet of Paradise, I saw the sky. The stars. The Milky Way. This far from Earth, the constellations were all wrong, but, man, the Milky Way was sweeping across the sky in all its glory. It was mesmerizing, I had to remind myself not to stare at it, that I was up on the roof to keep watch, not to gaze at the stars. I swept the horizon and the road from the village with an infrared scope, it was all clear. The eastern sky had just the faintest hint of pink from the approaching dawn, and insects began to buzz, or chirp, or whatever insects did on this planet. This time of morning is when, on Earth, birds would begin to sing, but Paradise didn't have any native birds. The guidebook said the biosphere wouldn't evolve flying animals other than insects for many millions of years, and since the planet was now occupied by aliens, Paradise probably never would get a chance to evolve birds on its own.
I sat on the roof, watching the eastern sky lighten, listening to the low buzzing of unseen insects, and felt homesick. I
missed Earth. Mostly, I missed the Earth that used to be, before alien invaders, before electricity was a luxury, before we saw twinkling lights in the sky and thought of anything other than meteor showers.
Before Columbus Day.
While we were eating breakfast, I got messages from Cornpone and Shauna. Cornpone told me our old squad was part of a rapid reaction force base about five hundred miles north of Teskor, he sounded excited, it was a damned good assignment. Way better, he said mockingly, than babysitting hamsters. I had to agree with him. The fireteam had replaced me with a new guy, a guy from North Carolina, and Cornpone said the new guy was a huge improvement over me, since the new guy had a proper Southern accent, instead of my Downeast drawl. Shauna reported that her unit was temporarily at a logistics staging base almost a thousand miles to the east. I wrote three messages to her, erased them, then sent a simple note. The odds were that we wouldn't see each other for a long time, maybe never, and I tried to respond in a way that was friendly but not too friendly, so she wouldn't feel she needed to make any special effort to keep in touch, and then it would get awkward.
By the third day of us ‘patrolling’ the village, we were all starting to feel more than a bit foolish. For a patrol, we would put on full battle rattle, our zPhone earpieces, cameras and microphones, tinted goggles, and march down the streets, rifles ready, a finger poised near the safety, trying to look tough as we walked past neat little houses and barns, well-tended fields, and the school, all the way out to the edge of the village, then turned around and walked back. It was not easy to look tough as hamsters sat on their front porches in the morning, sipping tea and waving to us. Or working in the fields and barns, and pausing to wave to us as we walked by. Or the hamster children waving excitedly, eager to see the strange new aliens. Us.
To show the hamsters that our fireteam had serious backup, once or twice a day that first week, a couple Buzzards and Chickens flew over at low altitude, circled the village, and resumed heading west. The gesture was supposed to give my unit confidence also, but after we watched the aircraft disappear over the western horizon, it only reminded us how isolated we were.
The turning point of our EOT engagement in Teskor came on the morning of the seventh day, after we’d done our night and morning patrols, and I’d dutifully sent a report about nothing up to our platoon leader. I took Sanchez with me, to check out a barn I was curious about. I wasn't suspicious about any funky hamster activity, just curious to see the inside of a hamster barn. As we walked past the school, a group of hamster kids were in the yard, kicking a ball that looked like it was made from the hamster equivalent of duct tape. We knew the hamsters weren't getting any new luxuries shipped in from offworld; the Kristang allowed only basic medical supplies to make the trip down from orbit, everything else that was hamster related was supposed to be going up to orbit, one way. The kids probably had a soccer ball that went flat, and they tried to fix it with duct tape.
The barn wasn’t anything special, it was built from metal girders and some kind of extruded plastic sheets the Ruhar used everywhere. The exterior color was red, which I thought was interesting; maybe painting barns red was another almost universal idea between alien species. At first I thought the barn was a type of chicken coop, until my eyes adjusted to the dim light. Then it got weird. There were animals being raised there, on racks along the sides, and it smelled like a chicken coop, or a hog farm. The weird thing was each animal, about two meters long and a meter across, had a silver cap where its head should be, and there were wires and tubes leading into the wall in front of each animal. The animals rested in cradles, I noticed some of the animals further away were smaller, perhaps younger? What was truly weird was the silence, no clucking of chickens or grunting of pigs, only the whirring of fans and electric pumps. And there was my new buddy Lester Cornhut, trotting up to me from the far end of the barn, with a friendly wave. "Greeting, Joseph Bishop," he called out.
"Greetings, Lester Cornhut." I must have pronounced his name correctly, because he smiled and gave me a short bow. "What is this place?" I asked. "What are those," I pointed to the strange, whatever they were, "animals?"
"Animals? Ah. These are not animals. Ruhar do not eat animals, we have long considered that to be," Lester paused to choose his words carefully, "barbaric." He gave an apologetic smile. I wondered if what he'd said in Ruhar had been even worse than the translated word I heard.
"They sure look like animals to me," Sanchez said behind me. "They're moving."
Mr. Cornhut walked close to an animal, or whatever it was, and poked it. The thing didn't respond. Yet it moved periodically, rocking from side to side. "These food sources," that probably didn't translate well, "do not have brains, and only a limited nervous system. Their bodies are almost all meat, genetically designed that way. A central computer," he pointed to the silver cap and the wires, "acts as their nervous system, that is why they move in a programmed pattern, to stimulate muscle growth."
"Huh, damn, that's cool." Sanchez was impressed. "They grow only the meat, not the whole animal."
I didn't know whether to be impressed or creeped out. These things were mindless, it was like raising a steak rather than the cow. It was eerie. It made perfect sense, it was efficient, and still it bothered me. Maybe I just wasn't ready for the future, this future.
After we got back to base, I asked Baker to dig through our supplies and see if we had a soccer ball, I thought I’d seen one in the ‘recreational package’ the platoon gave us before they sent us off to live in Bum Fuck Neptune.
During the next morning patrol, I tucked the soccer ball under my arm, and as we walked past the school again, I tossed the ball underhand to the hamster kids. At first, they were startled and backed away from it, but on our way back, I saw kids kicking it around, and they waved to us.
That evening, Lester Cornhut came to visit and asked for me. "Show Bishahp" is how he pronounced my name, which was probably closer to my real name than 'Lester Cornhut' was to his real name. I mean, what are the odds, right? Through the translator, he asked whether I am the Show Bishahp who captured a Ruhar soldier during the 'military action' on Earth, which he pronounced as 'Urt'.
"Yes." I nodded.
He smiled, and paused his translator. “Ta.” He nodded his head up and down. “Neh.” His shook his head side to side.
“Yes.” I nodded. “No.” I shook my head. Then I said “Ta,” and nodded, and “Neh,” and shook. He did the same gestures for ‘yes’ and ‘no’.
That was our first true interspecies communication. If we weren’t on Paradise only because the hamsters had attacked Earth, I would have been thrilled.
Back to the translator, he told me the hamster regional governor would be visiting Teskor in two days, and she wanted to meet with me, for tea. Seriously? Afternoon teatime with the enemy? Were we going to have little cucumber sandwiches, and scones, and crumpets, whatever the hell a crumpet is? Lester was Ok for a Ruhar, he was a farmer, and likely had no involvement in attacking Earth, if he'd even heard of Earth before the humans arrived on Paradise. But a regional governor had to be part of the Ruhar government that had attacked Earth, and killed humans. I felt like telling Lester that his bitch governor could shove her visit where the sun don't shine. And that I wasn't some circus sideshow curiosity for him to show off; step right up and see the human who captured a Ruhar soldier! We promise it won't bite! Only $5, including a free souvenir!
Hearts and minds, I told myself, hearts and minds. If Division G2 wanted intel, a regional governor would know a lot more about the situation on Paradise than my buddy Lester, that was for sure. "I would be honored to meet with your governor," I said, expecting that speaking through a fake smile wouldn't translate as sarcasm.
"You bring tea, for yourself? We have hot water, I think you do not drink our tea, no?" Lester asked.
Oh, for crying out loud. They really expected me to drink tea with them? What the hell, one of our food packs must have a teabag in it, bringing it with me
didn't mean I was going to get all cuddly and sing Kumbaya with the damned Ruhar.
CHAPTER FIVE INTEL
A couple days later, Lester Cornhut stopped me during morning patrol, to tell me excitedly that the regional governor would be at his house promptly at 1600 hours, he tapped his wrist like he was wearing a watch, and could I please come to his humble abode? Sometimes, the translator went overboard, I'm sure he didn't say 'humble abode' in Ruhar. I was tempted to make the hamsters cool their heels waiting for me, but my mother raised me to be polite, and the military had drummed into my head the habit of being promptly on time for everything. Promptly at 1600 local time, I arrived at the Cornhut residence, to see the regional governor, Lester Cornhut, Mrs. Cornhut, and the little Cornhuts. Baker waited outside, Sanchez and Chen were at the CP with the heavy weapons, just in case. My visit had been cleared, even encouraged, by platoon HQ. For the visit, I left my rifle, helmet, body armor and goggles back at the CP, bringing only my zPhone and sidearm. The sidearm was there because I'd feel naked without, it, and it would remind the hamsters, and me, that UNEF was an occupying force. Emphasis on 'force', if needed.
Oh, and I had brought a teabag with me. And a packet of sugar, in case I needed it. Lester greeted me excitedly, my guess was the regional governor didn't visit a hick town like Teskor often, they probably got more tornadoes than governors coming through the place.
There were only three Cornhuts in the family; Lester, his wife, and a son, who I recognized from the school. "Thank you for the ball," the boy said in English, or that's what it sounded like. I was truly impressed the furry little guy made the effort to memorize those words, so I said "Ta", and gave a little bow. He smiled, then Lester shooed him away, and poured hot water into two cups on a sort of coffee table in front of the couch. He then bowed deeply and left, leaving me alone with the regional governor. She looked like any other female Ruhar, although it was clear she wasn't a farmer; she was wearing a blouse and long skirt, of a material that looked like silk, and her earrings and necklace were elegant and expensive-looking, not that I had any idea how to tell one piece of jewelry from another. The governor was sitting on a dark green couch with a flowery throw rug on it, I sat in a chair at the end of the coffee table, I sure wasn't going to sit on the damned couch next to her. She slowly spooned what looked like loose tea leaves from a box on the table, put them into an egg-shaped thing with lots of holes in it and a thin chain, and gently set it in the teacup. My grandmother had an almost identical tea egg thing, whatever you call it.
Columbus Day (Expeditionary Force Book 1) Page 12