The sawmill, which doubled as the worker camp, didn't resemble my cabin in its design. It was built on the ground and designed as a fortress. High walls, manned by guards, gates with machinery and workers going in and out. My scooter's dashboard bleeped, they had caught me. I saw guards waving to me from their high posts. I flew over their heads and entered the premises.
Inside, it looked a bit empty, probably due to all the machinery being in the field. There was a flat square in the middle, its ground printed with caterpillar tracks. To the right of me, there were what looked like barracks and administrative buildings. Right ahead of me — the mill itself combined with loading docks, and the river pushing its waters beyond them. To the left was my destination — the hangars. My board computer went live and turned the scooter in its direction. I eased my grip on the handles. The machinery would do the necessary procedures with minimal interference from the driver.
My scooter flew into the open doors. Compared to the bright day, it felt like entering a cave. I landed the scooter and dismounted. The hangar was lit by the white artificial light. It wasn't too bright, and fuzzy shadows decorated the walls and the floor. There were rows of scooter inside and a few bigger machines — floaters and boats. A welcoming committee was already approaching me. It consisted of just two people, Fomas and some woman. The man wore the gray uniform I saw him in plus a headgear with a mic. The woman was thin, her haircut short, dressed in a blue jacket and jeans with jackboots. Unlike the swaying chief of security, she walked steadily and unrelentingly, like a rocket zoning in on its target. Me.
The chief of security stepped forward and offered me his hand. 'Welcome, Wealder.' His handshake was hard on my bones. 'Thanks for coming on such a short notice.' He was grinning, the black ball of the mic nearly falling into his mouth.
I smiled to him too. 'Well, it's my job.'
The woman stepped forward and smiled with no mirth, brackets appeared around her mouth. 'Hello, Wealder. I'm Lutice Morkan, the administrator. Pleased to meet you. My doors are always open to the brave rangers.' She shook my hand.
I felt uncomfortable. I expected the administrator to be a man. Strange to see a woman in such a "dirty" place. Her handshake was short and tenacious. It gave me a good idea why she had this position.
'Let's make this quick,' I said. 'Because of you, I've left my sector unguarded. What happened?'
'Come,' Morkan said. Ordered. 'I'll fill you in on the way to the office.' She sharply turned and started to walk away. Fomas looked at me and raised his eyebrows, expecting me to follow. I did.
I caught up to Morkan. She continued to speak as if nothing happened. 'You see, the locals are bothering us again. They're stealing metal, wrecking the equipment and machinery.'
'They are also stealing things,' Fomas said. 'The small stuff.'
We left the hangar and went across the square. I could feel the coarse earth under my soles. At one point, I even stumbled on a track print in the frozen mud and nearly fell over. My companions, on the other hand, walked as if the earth was a waxed floor. Truly, practice makes best.
'Sixteen pairs of boots, twenty-seven gloves, nine helmets and two beer cans,' Morkan said. 'That's just the last two weeks. But there’s more. They have taken apart the tracks of one treeroller. We couldn't even move the machine into the garage. It still stands out there.'
'Yeah, that's right,' Fomas said. ‘And you, as our rangers, are supposed to deal with the locals. They had done this in the past, but not on such scale. These savages are damaging our enterprise, costing us thousands of creds.'
'If they keep this up, they're going to ruin us,' Morkan said. I could hear calculator clicks in her voice.
Yeah, you'll be downright destitute, I thought. 'I'll do what I can,' I said aloud.
'I don't doubt that you will,' Morkan said. 'I'll tell you the rest in my office.'
We'd reached the living quarters. My companions went for the doors, and I stopped for a moment. Just in front of the barracks, I saw one thing that made me tense inside. A pole was sticking out of the ground. It rose high into the air for all to see and had dried alien skulls pierced on the tip of it, like olives on a toothpick. The flesh had rotten away, and white bleached bone shone in the sun. It looked surreal.
I looked at it for a moment and then hurried inside. No words would be said about it. I didn't want to stir water right from the start.
We walked along the corridor to the place. The walls were freshly painted, and the whole place looked clean and well-maintained despite its remote location. We passed doors, doors and more doors. At last, we arrived at the right one. Next to it was a row of seats with one occupied by a scruffy man. He looked like a worker, with dirty overalls and a faded cap on his head. He sat doubled forward, with elbows resting on the knees and face turned downward. The man appeared to be sleeping. Something in his appearance seemed familiar and off.
'Heap, get up now!' Morkan said in a commanding tone. 'The ranger is here.'
The man flinched like he was lashed on the back and raised his head towards his master. In that moment, I saw that he was an alien. If R'lok looked deformed to me, this one was outright ugly. He was old, his face was swollen, and dark bags lay like plums under his eyes. The red nose above them betrayed a drinker. He also wore a collar with a small box in it. I recognized a linguabox.
Heap touched the box and said something. 'Yes, master,' an impassive robotic voice came out of his collar.
'Here's a good boy,' Morkan said and patted him on the shoulder.
'Is he allowed in here?' I asked. I couldn't believe what I saw. An alien in human clothes looked grotesque. In addition to the pole outside, this sawmill was getting stranger and stranger. Barbaric.
'Oh yes,' Morkan said, smiling. 'Heap is harmless. He works here for food and beverages.'
'Beverages…' I said. Now I could smell it too.
'Yep,' Fomas didn't seem to notice the tone of my voice. 'The freak will do anything for booze.' He opened the door and let us in. Morkan went in first. When I entered, another surprise I awaited me.
'Howdy, roomie,' Edlon said, greeting me. He was sitting on the couch, leg on leg, and grinning his shit-eating grin.
'Are you…' I said, gesturing towards Morkan.
'Yeah,' Edlon said. 'Two rangers are better than one. This matter must be settled right here and now.'
The door clicked closed behind me. Morkan walked to her table and sat at it. The office was big, with file cabinets and all. I saw a couple of fancy framed diplomas on the wall. Morkan was truly something, as it seemed. I joined Edlon on the couch. Was it real leather? Fomas took a chair and sat near the table, facing us. Heap remained standing at the door, shifting from one foot to the other.
Morkan clapped her hands. 'Here's the plan that I propose to you.' She turned to Fomas. 'The chief of security will relate it.'
The moment the boss said it, Fomas became nervous. He rubbed his meaty palms and coughed. 'We think that the ambush is the best way to go. The wrecked treeroller, it will be the bait. One of you will lie on the ground from our side. Another will rise on a scooter and spy on the thieves from above. Sorry, but we can't give you guards, you must understand that.' Fomas stopped, remembering the details. 'Heap here,' he gestured toward the alien. 'He will assist you. He may be old, but he still can spot his own in the green.'
I leaned forward. 'Won't he help his kind?'
Edlon laughed. 'His kind is whoever gives him the booze.' He glared at Heap. 'Right, sponge?'
Heap puffed his cheeks and looked scared. He energetically nodded his head.
'See?' Edlon said, turning to his fellow ranger.
'Yes,' I said and turned to Morkan. 'When?'
Morkan raised her eyebrows, counting. 'In a few hours, when it gets darker. The thieves won't come until then.' Seeing the expression on my face, she added, 'Of course, we will accommodate you.'
'And our sectors will remain open until then?'
Edlon nudged me in the ribs. 'Come on, on
e day means nothing here. In addition to that, we want them to come.'
I looked at Edlon's confident face and decided not to argue. After all, I was still new here.
Morkan clapped her hands. 'Swell, we are set.'
I was sitting in the recreation area for the sawmill personnel. It was a big room with a retractable ceiling. It was open now and nothing but a reinforced wire netting stood between the sky and the human dwelling. The area had several tables with chairs, benches, vending machines and TVs mounted in the walls. All in all, it didn't differ much from a recreation area the inmates have in prisons. The only significant difference was that there were no guards around and no shanking, though I wasn't so sure about that.
Edlon sat opposite me and had a can of beer in his hand. He was sipping from it from time to time. I had refused alcohol in favor of soda.
'Won't it diminish your ability to aim?' I asked Edlon about the beverage.
'Nah,' Edlon shook his head. 'A little buzz won't interfere with my senses. I'm too good at it.'
'As you say,' I said and stuck to my soda.
Heap was also present. He sat on the floor, near the vending machine, head down. He seemed to be drowsing. As if understanding his place in the sawmill hierarchy too well, the alien had moved as far away from the workers as he could.
'So,' Edlon said, wiping his mouth. 'How do you find the job here after these months?'
'Not bad. I wish I had moved here earlier.' I was watching Heap. He looked sad. I felt a mix of pity and contempt towards the alien. 'It reminds me of my tour on Clomt. Generally the same stuff, but livelier here.'
'Yep,' Edlon said. He also looked at Heap. 'Forest isn't a desert. Some shit is always going down. Sometimes, literally.'
As Edlon laughed at his own joke, a group of workers approached the vending machine and ordered beverages. The cans clinked, falling down the chute. One man took them out and handed to his pals. The workers opened them.
There was a distinctive click of warping plastic, and white foam hissed out, bubbling on top. Hearing that, Heap perked up, as if he was hit by electricity. The native turned, getting on his knees, and looked at the workers peeking over the machine's corner.
They noticed him. A few glances passed between them, and then one said, 'Hey, Heap, want some?' He showed the alien his can and shook it in the air. Some foam fell on the floor.
Heap frantically nodded.
'Then dance for us.'
Heap pulled himself to his feet, crawling up along the vending machine. He looked furtively at the workers before him and then started to stomp on the spot. It looked like, and probably was, a tribal dance. He hopped from one foot to the other, waved his hands in the air and made bangs with the head. Heap didn't take his eyes off the can the whole time.
I looked away in disgust, repulsed by every participant of that farce. 'Why do they do that to him?'
Edlon looked at me, serious. 'Here's a better question — does he deserve to be treated like that?'
I couldn't give a straight answer to that. The old alien seemed to be here of his own accord. If he really wanted to escape, he could have done it at any moment. I had a strong suspicion that Heap wouldn't be welcomed if he tried to return to his people.
'I can give you an answer,' Edlon said, his voice dropping lower. 'They are animals. They pretend to be civilized, to have culture, but deep inside they are the same beasts we all were once.' He sipped his beer. 'Dumb and vicious. You know, they remind me of tigers in a circus.' Heap accelerated the tempo. 'The beasts wear fancy dresses in public, hop through burning hoops and even let you put your head in their maws.' Heap was now jumping on the spot. 'They pretend to be your friends. The ringmaster gets his guard down. That's what they want. If he shows weakness or just turns his back at the wrong moment, they’d go at him.' Heap was drumming his feet, standing on tiptoes. 'And then the beasts would start to feed.' Edlon paused, watching the dancing alien from some dark place inside his head. 'Morkan gets that.'
The workers laughed and clapped, encouraging him. The alien finally finished his dance. They threw him the can. Heap snatched it out of the air, his joints clicking. After that, he retreated behind the vending machine, dropped on the floor the floor and got to it.
I remembered R'lok. How he smashed the skull of his rival with a rock. How yellow blood sprayed over his body.
(They are just some savages.)
Clomt's natives were pussies compared to the Safunians. I didn't have the heart to argue with Edlon right now. But I could ask him.
'You know, I've seen this strange alien in the woods.'
Before I could finish, Edlon said, 'With one eye?' I nodded. 'That's R'lok. He is an outcast. He used to be a guide for us. Always liked human company. He can even speak our language.'
'Used to?'
'Yep,' Edlon leaned back. 'We no longer need or want his services. He is a weirdo, just ignore him.'
Too late. 'I think I'll catch some air,' I said, getting up. 'The smell of food and plastic is getting to me.'
'Alrighty,' Edlon said, smiling again. 'Don't wander too far.' He shot me with a finger gun.
I took my soda and walked out. I saw the poll and looked the other way. This place was starting to creep me out. Edlon's musings didn't help the matter. I went to the docks. The sight of streaming water always had the soothing effect on me.
The docs were dark and eerie. Black cubic shapes surrounded me and reminded me of the city. High walls of concrete and metal, some litter on the ground, the hum of electricity everywhere. I passed a guard in a worn-off uniform at the entrance. His automatic rifle was leaning on the wall, and its master was standing crouched over some device, texting by the look of it. When I approached, he looked up from the screen, his stubbled face underlit by faint fluorescence, and gave me a cursory glance. He didn't pay any attention to me after that. Yes, security here was of the highest quality.
The passage I moved through was lit by a clinical white lamp that harshly grabbed objects out of darkness, leaving black shadows on the floor. What an unfriendly place this was, it encompassed everything bad about the human settlements. The sawmill was a strange monument to urbanization in the middle of nowhere. I smelled the river ahead and felt relief. You can never mistake this mix — wet rock, moss, weed, silt and whatever else. It was fresh and rotten at the same time.
I walked onto the pier and approached the big water. I saw the forest river for the first time so close. The water was dark and appeared to be still, but the faint sound of gurgling betrayed its movement. The sky was dimming, and the other bank was just a faint shape of dark treetops. Ahead and to the left, I saw zigzagging light paths going from the pier into the gloom on the other side.
'Impressive, right?' I heard a voice from behind.
I was startled by the sound and almost jumped. I turned to the source of it. It was Morkan. When I came, she must have been in the shadow behind the cone of light. Even before she stepped forward, I saw that she was smoking. The red dot flickered in her hand, and blue smoke was her herald.
'Y-yeah.' I said and nodded automatically. For some reason, I felt like a school student who was caught smoking. There was something in her that pulled that out of me. Though I'd never smoked in my life.
Morkan walked closer to me and puffed smoke. The cloud hit me and passed my face, I winced at the smell. Though she was lit from behind, and I couldn't distinctly see her face, I knew her eyes were examining me. I was an insect under a microscope.
When it went for longer than I desired, I nervously smiled. 'What?'
Morkan shook the ash on the ground. 'You are a tree hugger, aren't you.' This was supposed to be a question, but I didn't catch a trace of the question mark.
'I don't like that word.'
She inhaled and puffed more blue smoke. 'Yes, you are. The ranger position often attracts weirdos like you.'
'I'm not like that. I'm not even a vegetarian.'
She put one arm over her stomach, propping the cigarette a
rm. 'The tree hugger is a tricky beast these days. You may not consider yourself one, but you are. It's obvious from how you look at me and the sawmill.'
'Yeah, how?'
She put one hand over her face and looked up. 'They are killing the nature, capitalist motherfuckers. The trees are alive too! They can feel pain! You've taken the land from the true owners. The bitch has no heart.' She dropped the hand. 'And then you come here to watch the river.' She chuckled and shook her head.
I was indignant and gasped for words. My mouth opened and closed, and I must have resembled a fish. 'Then why did you come here?'
She showed me the cigarette that was smoked all the way to the butt. 'No smoking on the premises. It's my own rule, and I want to follow it.'
I looked at the burning dot. 'But I'm not a fanatic. I know why you do what you do and respect the work.'
Morkan nodded. 'But you keep wearing that self-righteous expression on your face. Don't think that you have some special knowledge or understanding. Grow up, ranger.' Her nails clicked, and the butt flew out of her hand, landing in the river with a faint hiss. 'That pole in the yard, it's there for a good reason and don't even try reporting it. They know.' She turned and walked away.
I watched the bitch go and berated myself for not standing up to her. But I couldn't. I just stood there and took her smug alienist bullshit. The worst part was that she spelled out what I recognized in myself, but didn't want to admit. Not then, at least.
I looked at the river again and couldn't wait to get out of this place. The cigarette butt was bobbing on the surface.
Nightfall came. We got moving to our positions. The plan was as follows: I would hang over the broken treeroller, monitoring the activity beneath me. Edlon would lie slightly behind in ambush, in case they ran toward the sawmill. Heap, the key player, would be hidden on the ground. When he spotted the thieves, he would hoot two times, and the action would start.
Under the Canopy Page 6