Indian Hill 7

by Mark Tufo

  Harker moved quickly. He took a swing from out in left field–it was fast, but he telegraphed the punch. I tracked it easily enough; had it been coming my way I would have had plenty of time to dodge it. That Dee just narrowly avoided it should have raised another flag. Dee feinted left and threw a right punch into Harker’s huge midsection. The beast bellowed out a great gust of air. Dee had winded him, putting the larger animal in danger. Harker raked his sharp claws across Dee’s chest, shredding his tunic and cutting into his thick hide. This seemed to anger Dee as he let loose a flurry of strikes to Harker’s head, knocking it back and forth like a church bell. The mute raised his arms to thwart the punches, and kicked out with his left leg, pushing Dee away. Right there, right then; that would be a moment I replayed in my head until the day I died. Blugs was watching the fight and Harker had no one around him. If I shot straight, true, and quickly, I could have taken out both threats. Advantage us.

  That second and a half that I would replay during countless days and through many hours of lost sleep was over as Dee rushed back in, careful to avoid another lashing out of Harker’s leg. Dee landed a flush strike to Harker’s snout; a rupture of blood blew out in a three-sixty arc from the point of impact and made the mute stumble backward. Dee pressed the attack. Harker was stunned, but far from incapacitated. Hits and kicks were being delivered so quickly from both sides, I was having a difficult time keeping up. I got the distinct impression that Harker, though not losing, was slightly confused about why he was not winning. Dee was giving as good as he was getting, but the bigger mute’s hits were beginning to take their toll. Harker’s look was one of determination, but his bleeding, open snout told a different story. They’d literally been punching, clawing, and kicking each other for fifteen minutes straight and I didn’t know how much longer my friend could do it.

  Dee lashed out with a punch that would have decapitated most anything else. Harker staggered back and Dee pressed in, continuously throwing punches so fast that I could barely see them. At first, Harker was merely absorbing them, his body moving with each impact. Then something changed, like he got mad he was losing and instead of the impacts taking something out of him, they appeared to be pumping him up. His right hand shot out and wrapped around Dee’s throat. There was a horrible wet cough as Harker began to crush my friend’s windpipe. Didn’t need a program to know how this show was going to end. I was maneuvering around for a better shot. Blugs was no dummy; he pressed his weapon up against BT’s head. I saved Dee, BT died, end of story.

  “Fuck.”

  Dee’s breaths were beginning to gurgle. There really wasn’t an option, I’d fire now and let the chips fall where they may. Harker had been twisting his body, keeping a struggling Dee between us, but I was determined to get my shot in. That was until Dee let go of Harker’s outstretched arm and pointed a finger directly at me to halt.

  “I can’t Dee, I just fucking can’t!”

  He reached inside of his tunic–my eyes grew wide as I saw him pull a grenade out.

  “NO!” I rushed closer. He pulled the pin. I was blown to the side from the force of the explosion. The detonation should have been deafening inside such an enclosed area but it was muffled as it was sandwiched between the two large beasts. Harker’s arm came away from Dee’s neck, as they both stumbled backward. They wore matching blood stains on their chests and torsos. I was in shock looking up from the ground. Tracy didn’t fuck around, she put a well-aimed volley in Blugs’ head. A short burst of rounds flew from our side and into theirs. The mutes were apparently too stunned from seeing their leader dying, for that was what was happening. Harker fell back onto his ass, sitting hard. I scrambled out to see Dee, heedless of the firefight going on around me. He was on the ground on his right side. There was a soft whisper coming from him as I approached.

  “What have you done?” I asked as I pulled the edges of his burnt and blackened tunic to the side. I sucked in a large gulp of air as I looked at the damage wrought by the explosive device. “Get Medical now!” I yelled, even as the last of the shots were being fired.

  Dee opened his eyes; it seemed to take him a moment to recognize me. “I could not have asked for a better being to call my friend. It was my sincerest wish that we could have enjoyed peace together for many years.”

  “Not yet, Dee, not yet.” I was crying, attempting to will him to stay alive. “You cannot die on me!” I wrapped my arms around his neck; he placed an arm around me.

  “I am glad I did not kill you in the games.”

  “Me too,” I sobbed, laughed into his neck.

  “Tell my godson that I love him.” And that was it, that was the last thing Drababan ever said to me. Emergency personnel came a couple of minutes later, but he had already passed. I don’t know if what happened was audible, but something right there and right then snapped in my head. I collected myself as best I could and ordered the roundup of every mute on the ship.

  Even Tracy, who could talk me down from any ledge or bad idea didn’t say a word. It was BT that had the questions.

  “What are you doing, brother?” he asked.

  “Eliminating threats.”

  He left it at that. It was Imperial Witness Alken that would be the next to ask. I’d had every last mute still alive, all three hundred and twelve, placed in an empty hangar.

  “General Talbot, we have an accord.” Didn’t take anything more than basic smarts to realize what I was doing.

  We were at the hangar control tower looking over the mutes. Some were sitting, though most were standing. I wondered if they knew what was about to happen. They were pretty stoic if they did. “We sure did, Alken, and your mutes broke it. Went and killed the best friend I’ve ever known. I don’t know if they acted on their own, which really doesn’t seem to be how they operate, but whatever. I’m done watching those I love die because of this fucking war. The fault is mine; I had a soft spot in my heart for your kind, I have seen the goodness in some of you and mistakenly believed you all had a piece of it. Well, I now know that’s just not the truth.”

  “You will blame all for the actions of some?”

  “That’s some mighty fine words coming from you, Alken. When have your kind stopped for even half a second to consider individuals before randomly leveling cities and population centers? Have any of your commanders pondered if they were killing good people or bad? Of course not, because that’s not what it’s all about for your kind. Dominate at all expense. That is a lesson it has taken me far too long to master. But I’ve got to thank you for finally pushing me, albeit reluctantly, to my current position.”

  I pressed the button that opened the hangar doors. A large red light began to strobe and a short burst of alarm trilled. Any sitting mutes were now standing. A few went and checked exit doors, looking for a way out, most seemed resigned to their current fate.

  “This is madness!” Alken cried out.

  “Is it? Would you care if that were my men?”

  Not sure if Alken meant to go the honesty route or even realized what he’d said because of the distress he was under, but he said. “No.”

  “See! That’s what I’m talking about.” It started slow enough, mutes began to be pulled along the floor and then as the doors opened wider they were pulled out like bugs being sucked into a vacuum cleaner. The last one had held onto a bench until he finally ran out of oxygen. His head split open as he slammed into the top of the doors. Thirty seconds later the doors were closed and the air had returned.

  “Alken, one of my personnel so much as catches a cold that I can trace back to a Progerian and it will be you and all your asses in there next. This isn’t a game, and if you still think it is, well, I’m fucking sick of playing it. Get out of my sight.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something, maybe even something derogatory. But of all the things Alken was, dumb wasn’t one of them. He turned and left, didn’t so much as sigh as he went, either. I sat up in that control tower for a couple of hours, I waited and waited for the
inevitable guilt for my actions to strike me full in the chest. When it didn’t, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or distressed. Revenge is a dangerous cave to explore, go too far down that dark path and one can begin to feel their heart shrivel. So many times, I wanted to ask Dee if what I had done was the right thing. The pain of his loss was a constant stabbing in the very fibers of my soul.

  The next day we did a full military burial at space. I was convinced I was going to be a blubbery mess; ended up I was too numb to do much of anything except sit there while the proceedings took place.

  “Mike.” Tracy shook me gently.

  “Yeah?” I looked up to see that damn near everyone there was looking to me. I rose stiffly and walked on wooden legs. I somehow made it to the dais without stumbling. I paused once I got there, took a breath, and spoke. “Drababan, son of Parendall and Demeta, my best friend and easily one of the noblest beings I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He made me a better person. When all around me was lost, he found me; picked me up, literally.” This got a smattering of laughs. “I trusted and loved him enough for him to be the godfather of my son. It was my hope we would stay friends for the rest of our days, sitting on rocking chairs recounting old times while we shouted at the children to get off the lawn. Dreams for the future begin to lose their meaning when I think of my world without him in it. If I can be half the man he thought I was, I will count my blessings. I know some of you harbored doubts about the relationship I had with the mighty Genogerian, but if you have faith in my ability to lead, that is a direct result of Drababan. We’re winning because of him, we have a chance at saving our world because of him. I wish I had the eloquence to give him the sendoff he so richly deserves. I love you, Dee, and I hope to see you on the other side.”

  I felt that I had aged a decade in the few minutes I’d been up at the pulpit. My legs had gone from wooden planks to cooked spaghetti. I watched stoically while Taps was played as the color guard ceremoniously marched his casket to the edge of the bay and Dee was sent out on his final mission. I turned and went back to my quarters without a word. Tracy came to me about fifteen minutes later; I had not moved from my porthole as I looked out into the expanse of space.

  “You alright Mike?” she asked tenderly.

  “There’s a little piece of me that thinks I should be on that bed, my face buried in that pillow as I sob uncontrollably at the loss of Dee.”

  “What about the rest of you?”

  “It’s being controlled by a distant, cold heart. I want them dead, Tracy.” I finally turned to face her. “I want every mute, every Progerian, every Stryver…I want them dead and I want to be the one that pulls the trigger.”

  “Your heart isn’t that small yet, Mike. You’ve left the Progs aboard this ship alive.” She stepped back when she saw something, maybe a black cloud, pass over my eyes.

  “Want to know why I’ve kept them alive?” She didn’t answer. “I did it so that they would be witness to the end of their world. I want them to feel the same helplessness and hopelessness we’ve felt. I want to take some small happiness out of their pain. How fucked up is that? And what’s even more fucked up is I realize just how disturbing that is and I don’t care. At first, I was fighting for my very survival, then I was fighting for the survival of our home. Now? Well, now I’m fighting for their extinction and nothing short of that will sate my desire.”

  “This isn’t you.” She shook my words off. “That’s not who you are.”

  “I just marched three hundred mutes into an airlock. What part of that doesn’t scream ‘I’ve lost my grip?’”

  “They deserved to die.” Got to admit I wasn’t expecting that response. “When you first said you wanted Drababan as Travis’ godfather, that was it. That was the moment I thought you’d lost your mind. A Genogerian who tried to kill you no less.”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t want to.”

  “Listen, Mike. I was almost as devastated as you when Drababan died. It took me a long time to trust him, especially with our baby, but when I saw the way he was around him even when he didn’t think anyone was watching I began to love him, to truly understand that Geno. He was our family. You’re right, there will never be another like him. But regardless of our personal feelings, our private loss, the mutes needed to go. The closer we get to Aradinia, the more agitated they were becoming. We were bound to have more incidents, more good people would die, and that is something we can ill afford. I would rather them dead than any of us.”

  “You’re a good woman, Charlie Brown.”

  “I think I’m supposed to take that as a compliment though I don’t quite know how.”

  Chapter 11

  MIKE JOURNAL ENTRY 9

  One week, give or take an hour, from arriving at Aradinia, we had been through countless scenarios on how we were going to do our best to become a Death Star. Even named the plan Alderon. Yes, I realized that Darth was on the dark side, but I had adopted him as an icon of strength during this Goth phase. Maybe the Republic lost eventually, but holy shit–that man struck fear into all who knew him and I wanted the Progs to think of me as death on wings. I wanted them to tuck in their little lizard babies telling them tales that if they didn’t go to sleep on time that the monster from Earth would come down from the sky and blow their fucking house up. Blow their entire neighborhood to shit, take out the countryside even. Teens would scare each other with stories of Talbot One Leg who would peel the living skin from their flesh…and listen for his horrible cries in the woods around them. If any lived on the eighth day, I needed them to understand to the core of their very existence that to fuck with Man, meant the potential end to everything they were and everything they may ever realize. We were a creature to be as much revered as feared.

  BT yawned at his console. I was wanting to go through one, maybe three more attack scenarios until I saw that. Most of my crew was dead on their feet, I hadn’t slept in three days; apparently hatred burns hot. I was going to do everything in my power to win this battle, but I needed to make sure my personnel were up to the task.

  “That’s it, let’s call it. Get the second crew in here.” They filed out, heads hung low. Morale was teetering on the brink. We had hope, but it was beginning to flounder as time and again the computer simulations showed us with a twenty percent chance of merely surviving at best. It had not even had the computing power to dive deep enough down in the percentages to ascertain a victory.

  BT sat next to me as the second shift came in and took their positions. “You want me to stay for the drills?”

  “Nah, you're good. Get some sleep.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m thinking I’m going to get all the rest I’ll ever need next week.”

  Took BT a second to understand what I was referring to. “Don’t you even go down that road. That fancy-ass calculator is just playing it safe. I told Beckert he needed to program in some crazy Talbot wildcard but he hasn’t figured it out yet. And you know what? Neither will the Progs.”

  “I could turn this ship around,” I told him.

  “And what would that accomplish? Ever heard of the Doolittle raid?”

  “Do little? Doesn’t sound promising.”

  “Doolittle, as in two ohs, was a Lieutenant Colonel Doolittle that planned and executed the attack on the Japanese homeland. It was after Pearl Harbor; the States were reeling from the punch. Morale was at an all-time low. Roosevelt wanted to do something that would get our minds back in the fight, a move that would show everyone that we could and would overcome, persevere, triumph, even. We sent sixteen bombers over their country, dropped a pile of bombs on them.”

  “I know about the Tokyo raid. If I remember correctly it didn’t do a whole bunch of damage and China paid a pretty heavy price for helping us.”

  He shook his head. “Wasn’t about the damage caused or the casualties inflicted–it was about sending a message. That even though we’d damn near been knocked on our ass, we rose, we got up, and we struck back har
d. We showed them that we could reach clear across the world and give them a nice little surprise when they felt all safe and secure in their homes. For the first time, the Japanese had something to worry about: that we weren’t some sleeping eunuch. We had the fortitude and balls to do something. Morale skyrocketed when we hit back. It was a small military victory but a major one for the country as a whole. I don’t know if you are going to pull an enormous magical rabbit out of your ass when we get to Aradinia; I don’t. But even…” he paused. “Even if we only drop one fucking bomb on their capital it’s going to be a huge thing. Even the Stryvers, for all their technology and savagery, have never struck the home world. This could forever alter the way the Progerians enter into war; maybe even affect their willingness to do so. For the most part, they’ve had no problem sacrificing Genos and mutes, but Progs? We start killing precious Progs in their beds and they are going to lose their shit. The public, who may or may not even be totally aware of what their rulers are doing, are going to get one fucking rude awakening. And me personally, brother? I am proud to be standing next to the man that is going to deliver that message.”

  I had to laugh; he was so fucking eloquent. “Go get some sleep before I feel the need to run some more drills and live up to your expectations.”

  “Talbot, there is nothing you need to live up to, man. Go get yourself some sleep.” With that, he stood, clapped me on the shoulder, and headed out.

  I sat for a few more minutes. I had no idea what time it was or when I had last seen my wife not under military conditions; hell, I was starting to think of her as the Colonel with the nice ass. “Captain Fields, the con is yours.”

  “Aye, sir,” he said as he left his panel to take my chair.

  “I think I’ll be in my quarters.”

  “Observation deck, then?”

  “Probably.” It was my normal routine. I went up to the large viewing windows to look out on the expanse of space. I don’t exactly know why; sometimes I hoped that I’d catch a glimpse of Dee’s coffin, though why I’d want to see that was beyond me and considering we were hurtling in the opposite direction, it made absolutely no sense. Still, I looked. Thinking about that, the fact that there wasn’t a chance of ever catching a glimpse of him, somehow made it even worse. I looked for home, couldn’t see it. I looked for hope, couldn’t find any. There I would spend countless hours. Shouldn’t have been overly surprised that Tracy was asleep on one of the couches, a blanket pulled tight up to her neck. I stood looking down at her.