Guerilla

by Mel Odom

  THREE

  Outside Fort York

  Loki 19 (Makaum—­colloquial)

  0349 Hours Zulu Time

  In shadowy darkness, Noojin waited irritably and anxiously atop a narrow two-­story house across the street from the Terran fort, wishing that Jahup and the big sergeant would return soon from their “secret” mission. Jahup had been excited about going, about spending time with the sergeant, and he’d told Noojin more than he’d been supposed to. Like a fool, he’d sworn her to secrecy.

  That was wasted effort. She was part of his hunting band. They had placed their lives in each other’s hands for years. There was no closer-­knit relationship, not even in families.

  She was still angry with Jahup and the sergeant for not allowing her to go along. She was as good as Jahup in the jungle, and much better than the sergeant. If anything, the big-­footed offworlder would probably get Jahup killed clomping around the jungle as he did.

  She made herself stop thinking about Jahup getting hurt. That wasn’t going to happen, and it was a waste to dwell on it. She wouldn’t let it happen. Grandmother Leghef had told her several times that the power of the mind could control the future. It only took a strong mind.

  The Terran fort stood brightly lit in the night, a sharp contrast to the Makaum dwellings and public buildings around it that bore the colors of the jungle and seemed to melt into it. Until the offworlders arrived, ­people had risen with the sun and gone to bed shortly after sunset. There had been little to do at night and several of the nocturnal predators were more dangerous than those that hunted by day.

  Powerful lights lit the fort, illuminating the grounds and paths between the Quonset huts where the soldiers slept and day-­to-­day business was carried on. Other sec lights monitored the hangars that contained the fierce engines of destruction that Jahup was so interested in.

  In the heart of Makaum, the Terran Army had erected an alien fortress that warred with the environment. At the other end of the city, the Phrenorians, the (ta)Klar, and the corps all did the same. It was as if a sea of technology and otherness strove to form a barrier around the Makaum ­people. The effect was suffocating and Noojin found she didn’t like being in the sprawl. She preferred being out in the jungle hunting.

  Some looked on those offworlder efforts to grow their own world on Makaum as a step toward security that the Makaum ­people had never had. Migrating jungle creatures had threatened the city at times, but the ­people had always rebuilt. Those attacks were natural things. The offworlders were not.

  Noojin felt that the city was being imprisoned. Roads into and out of Makaum now had checkpoints managed by the Terran Army. The offworlder word checkpoint sounded harsh and explosive, and as offensive as it was. Before, ­people who lived in the city had been free to come and go as they pleased. Now “identification” had to be presented to travel the roads close to the fort, and no one was allowed at the embassies except those who were invited.

  The restrictions were intolerable.

  An eanga, glowing a soft violet, flitted through the air near Noojin’s head and distracted her angry thoughts. Only a few centimeters in length, the small winged lizard was probably curious to find her seated there. She lifted a hand and called it to her with her mind.

  Come.

  For a moment, the eanga hesitated. Its small, vaporous thoughts brushed up against hers. Although those thoughts weren’t completely decipherable, just as hers weren’t to it, Noojin knew the little creature was searching her intentions for any predatory overtures. There were things, creatures as well as plants, that could lure victims into traps from which there was little chance of escape.

  She thought only happy thoughts at the eanga, then slowly reached into her kit for the journeycake she’d stuffed there in anticipation of the long night of waiting for Jahup’s return. She held a crumb between her thumb and forefinger.

  Cautiously, the eanga flitted in and darted its tongue out to test the crumb. Satisfied there was food and nothing threatening, the lizard rested on Noojin’s hand. The tiny claws were sharp and dug in to hold, but they didn’t cut into flesh. Folding its wings, the eanga perched there. Slowly, she brought it in closer to her body and offered it her warmth. So many of the lizards were attracted to the Makaum simply because of the heat their bodies radiated. Absentmindedly, Noojin stroked the tiny creature as it fed.

  Her eyes raked the empty training grounds that she and Jahup used to watch. She’d never had any real interest in the offworlders, but Jahup did. Noojin suspected that interest had something to do with his father dying so young. There was an incomplete part of her friend that she sensed but could not understand. For some reason unknown to her, Jahup had illusions of finding that missing part among the offworlders. Or, rather, among the soldiers because they could be so fierce.

  Jahup enjoyed watched the offworlders as they trained in hand-­to-­hand combat and with their weapons. He liked the offworlder rifles and pistols. Noojin didn’t. She preferred the bows and the spears their band used while hunting. Everything they needed to take meat could be gotten with those weapons, and those things that couldn’t be safely taken with them—­like the kifriks and the greater khrelavs and others—­needed to be left alone.

  Over the last few months, Noojin had tried to correct Jahup’s thinking, but it was as if the older he got, the more stupid he became. Males, Noojin had discovered, had a tendency for stupidity. Especially if they were allowed to gather and share fermented drinks. She had hoped Jahup would never turn out like those men did.

  They were both seventeen, recognized as adults in their community. They served in an adult capacity by taking meat from the jungle. When they were younger they had thought alike. Now Jahup insisted on being something Noojin didn’t entirely understand.

  That was frustrating. And scary. She also wanted to stop thinking about it.

  Wrapping her arms around her legs as she sat on the tree bough that helped provide support for the house’s roof, Noojin wished again that the offworlders had never found their planet. Before the Terrans and the Sting-­Tails and the (ta)Klar and the corps had arrived, the Makaum had lived good lives.

  Most of her ­people would not agree with her. They enjoyed the technology and wealth brought by the offworlders. Many of Noojin’s friends occupied their free time with games and music and clothing they had never before seen. In fact, they enjoyed free time that they had never before had because of the wealth the offworlder corps spread around.

  Those friends never paid attention to the great holes left out in the jungle where offworlder miners dug out the bones of the planet. Sometimes, if the large digging crawlers excavated too close to the city, small earthquakes shook the homes and buildings and caused minor damage.

  The greedy Makaum never saw the waste wrought by the offworlders either. Offworlder soldiers and bashhounds killed creatures out in the jungle to keep them from their camps and compounds, and sometimes simply for pleasure. Thousands of pounds of meat Noojin’s ­people could have used were eaten by carrion feeders or simply spoiled in the heat.

  Some of the migratory herds of edible lizards had retreated deeper into the jungle as a result, their numbers diminished. Getting them now required hunting bands to forage deeper into more treacherous lands, and to carry meat greater distances to return to the city. It was always a race to get back, to escape the carnivores that hunted them, and to keep the meat from spoiling.

  Some of the bands had quit the hunt and found other jobs within the city. The hunting bands talked among themselves and warned the Quass, the Makaum governing body, that soon the ­people would become dependent on food provided by the offworlders. They would no longer be autonomous. They would no longer be free.

  From within the house Noojin sat on, someone played one of the consoles brought by the offworlder traders. The music was eerie and unnatural, nothing like the woodwinds and stringed instruments used by
musicians in the city. The sound was uniform, not unique like the songs the musicians played. Blue light emanated from a window below and faded into the night.

  Noojin sensed Telilu before the girl made herself known, though she had climbed the tree soundlessly.

  “Hey,” she called softly from behind Noojin.

  “I already knew you were there, Twig.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “If I had been a kifrik, I would have already snared you in my web and wrapped you for my dinner.” The statement was harsh, but the young had to learn early the dangers held by the jungle.

  “I’m getting better.”

  “You are.” Noojin turned the girl and ran her free hand through Telilu’s green-­tinted hair. She was eight years old, slightly built, and her hair felt as fine as spider silk. Like Noojin, she wore shorts and a pullover top with a small kit and knife belted at her hip. She was Jahup’s younger sister.

  “Oooh.” Telilu crouched down and sat beside Noojin. Her eyes rounded as they lit on the eanga still feeding on the crumb. “Can I hold him?”

  “Her. And yes you can. But you have to be careful so you don’t scare her.” Gently, still thinking safe thoughts, Noojin transferred the tiny lizard over to the smaller girl. “What are you doing up so late?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” Telilu traced the tiny folded wings with her forefinger with rapt attention.

  “Your grandmother will be worried about you if she finds you missing from your room.” Both of Jahup’s parents were dead, and brother and sister had been raised by their grandmother.

  “Quass Leghef,” Telilu said in a mocking tone that told Noojin she and her grandmother had had another disagreement, “is too worried about Jahup to be worried about me.” She was silent for a moment, then spoke more softly. “I’m worried about him too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Grandmother’s head is filled with bad things.”

  Sometimes Quass Leghef could see parts of what was to come. Noojin had never wanted that kind of ability. It would be horrible. “What kind of bad things?”

  Telilu shook her head. “I don’t know. She makes sure I can’t get into her thoughts, but I know they’re there. She can’t hide everything from me.”

  “No, I suppose she can’t.” Noojin threw an arm around Telilu.

  “You’re worried about Jahup too.”

  Noojin didn’t even try to hide her fears, just made sure that the younger girl couldn’t peer too closely into her mind. “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Jahup is out in the jungle.”

  “At night?”

  “Yes.”

  Telilu shook her head. “That’s dumb. The jungle is even more dangerous at night. Is he hunting?”

  Noojin supposed that was the truth. “Yes.”

  “That’s even dumber. We have more than enough meat.” Telilu shifted the journeycake morsel and made the eanga creep across her hand to get the food again.

  “Meat goes quickly. You’ve seen how much Old Vorves eats.”

  Telilu smiled and her eyes shone. “Denas eats more.”

  “Maybe. And they aren’t the only ones with healthy appetites.” Noojin brushed hair from the younger girl’s face.

  On the other side of the tall fence, two soldiers walked steadily along a well-­packed training field. They carried their rifles across their chests and talked quietly among themselves. One of them laughed and the other joined in.

  Noojin didn’t know what they were talking about but she suspected whatever it was, it wasn’t very different from what other young men their age talked about. The Terran men, and the women, tended to be similar to the Makaum ­people. They had diverse rites and traditions, and other interests, but in many ways they were alike.

  That was one of the arguments Jahup’s grandmother constantly put forth during disagreements over the offworlders. Quass Leghef believed that ultimately the Makaum had more in common with the Terrans than with the Phrenorians or the (ta)Klar. Both of the other offworlder races were too alien, too far removed from what the Makaum knew.

  Noojin had a different view of the Terrans. She had been kidnapped by Velesko Kos and she had known what the man intended for her. The man had planned to take her and use her. She had been ready to kill Kos or die before she let that happen. Nightmares of the violation that had nearly happened still lingered in her mind in the small hours before dawn. Quass Leghef told her those memories would fade in time, but Noojin was not so certain.

  As Telilu sang a little song to the eanga, a small pack of shadows stole down the tree-­ and bush-­lined alley between the fence line and the nearest house on the other side of the street. The soldiers at the fort kept defoliant sprayed on their training grounds, so that area was clear of plant growth. The line of demarcation was clear, though, because the Makaum didn’t like the offworlder sprays. The threat remained that the chems would get loose in the jungle and hurt the environment.

  When the Terrans first came, there had been a lot of new sicknesses. Even after they’d administered their vaccines and cleared up the outbreaks, the Makaum ­people had mostly chosen to stay away from the offworlders.

  Then the Phrenorians had come, but those kept mainly to themselves except for trade negotiations and diplomacy issues. Many Makaum ­people appreciated that aspect of those offworlders. Privacy was a valued commodity.

  Feeling tense, Noojin watched as the soldiers kept walking and the shadows clustered in the alley. Her senses went on high alert and she felt the same excitement thrilling through her veins as she did when the hunting band rousted a large predator from the jungle by mistake.

  Moonslight sparked silvery fire from metal in the hands of the shadow and Noojin knew she was staring at an ambush. Whoever was in that alley intended to kill the Terran soldiers. Even from this distance, she could sense that. Their thoughts were loose and fiery, not totally guarded.

  Knowing she had no time to waste if she was going to save the soldiers, Noojin caught up her nearby bow and slid an arrow free of her quiver hanging from a branch. As she stood, she put arrow to string, drew back till the stiff insect wing fletching glided along her cheek to her ear, and released.

  The arrow skated through the leaves and stayed on course, sliding over the top of the mesh fence, and then struck the nearest of the soldiers in the side of his head. Noojin trusted the polycarbonate shell to deflect the arrow before it did any damage. Splintered on impact, the arrow dropped to the ground, but it had smashed into the soldier hard enough to stagger him.

  Military training took over and he went down, presenting a smaller target profile as he searched for his attacker. Judging from the way the other soldier moved, the first had warned him.

  Noojin knew about the armor’s onboard near-­AI, and she knew the software—­whatever that was because it sounded like magic to her—­would track the arrow’s flight back to her. She grabbed her quiver and pulled it over her shoulder, then reached down for Telilu, catching the young girl under the arms and scaring the eanga away in a frantic flutter of wings.

  “Time to go,” Noojin whispered into the startled girl’s ear. She tossed the bow ahead of her into the brush behind the dwelling. “Fall softly.” She took two steps and vaulted into space on the other side of the house. Behind her, gauss blasts tore the trees above the house to shreds and someone inside the dwelling screamed in terror.

  FOUR

  J-­Keydor Node

  Stronghold RuSasara

  Makaum

  5023 Akej (Phrenorian Prime)

  Lieutenant Sibed led Zhoh up a narrow stairway that let out into General Rangha’s offices. The younger officer did not speak and Zhoh asked no questions. The footsteps echoed in the cavernous weapons vault behind them.

  Built into the wall behind the balcony, the general’s personal office overlooked the im
mense room and the weapons standing in neatly ordered ranks. Massive and orderly to match, the office had been designed to intimidate and provide an illustrious history of the man behind the large daravgane desk.

  The orange-­red resin piece of furniture was calculated to impress visitors even further. Daravgane was prized on Phrenoria, and was found in no other place. The resin was drawn from the sacred primordial predators on the home planet. The great beasts swam in the Phrenorian seas and were regarded to be distant ancestors of the Phrenorians. Draining the daravgane was the most dangerous thing a warrior could do, and usually he did so only to create heirloom weapons when sanctioned by a prime after he’d made a name for himself on the battlefield.

  To have drained enough daravgane to create the desk of one piece was astonishing as well as bordering on self-­aggrandizing. Zhoh had never seen nor heard of anything like it. The desk was carved into a block of translucent solidity, then inlaid with darker pieces of daravgane so deep a red they stood out against the orange.

  The images carved into the desk celebrated the achievements of a warrior armed with a patimong and using an arhwat, one of the original chitin bucklers, not one of the electromagnetically enhanced units carried by present-­day warriors.

  Rangha stood behind the desk, ramrod straight and as imposing as he could. He was still half a head shorter than Zhoh and not nearly so wide, and the captain took pleasure in that distinction. “The warrior in that image is Faylas HatVeru, my ancestor, at the Battle of Arquacha.”

  Zhoh bit back a scathing retort. With the family name of HatVeru, the general’s claim to distinction came from matriarchal lineage. He did not even have a true pedigree of entitlement to his position or pride.

  “I have heard of Faylas HatVeru,” Zhoh said. “He was a very brave warrior. Skilled and deadly in melee against his enemies.”

  The Battle of Arquacha was legendary. Hundreds of songs and stories had been sung and told of the warriors and the combat. The land had become a sea of blood.