“That’s the way, you dumb sonofabitch! Now try shooting at the yellow fellows!”
Benbo moved off into the rain, and the soldier opened up on the enemy, aiming through tear-filled eyes. Then Nicole recognized him: Lieutenant Morio Taiseido; gentle Morio…
The night of the Noraanka Dima.
…She did her best at walking briskly from the corridor into the Isection anteroom; but one does not walk briskly in a full-length ballroom gown.
Too much air resistance. One flows.
…the Noraanka Dima; the USE Force holiday in tribute to the five soldiers who had held an entire Shikazu assault group at bay for eight days during the war of the Four Stars. After the five soldiers had been killed, a brief truce was called, allowing honor guards from both the Shikazu Infantry and the USEF to attend the burial-the first Noraanka Dima.
Joanne Nicole pressed the signal panel next to the door and looked up into the sensor in time to hear an embarrassed cough. She glanced down and realized that the overhead sensor had a good shot down the front of her gown. Se glared up at the sensor.
“Not you, too, Taiseido?”
There was a mumbled apology as the security door slid open, revealing Storm Mountain’s intelligence center. Lieutenant Morio Taiseido and six ranks were on duty. Taiseido stood as she entered, while the ranks busied themselves studying their instruments.
“Morio why does the Force have to go crazy once each year?” She held out her arms. “Just look at this insane costume.”
Taiseido grinned widely. “I have seen it, thank you, Major. And it should make a splendid display at the military ball. General Dell will be pleased.”
“Sit down and stick your tongue back in your mouth. Any traffic?”
Taiseido resumed his seat, turned toward a screen, and called up an index of the signals overheard and processed by his watch. “Nothing unusual, Major.” He turned back. “Why don’t you go to the ball and leave the peasants to sort the signals?”
-A sorter of signals. The next time Joanne Nicole saw Morio he was a killer…
…A break in the fighting.
Toadface backing off from Storm Mountain’s unexpected pimple of resistance as the first light of a grey, rainy morning pushed sluggishly at the shadows.
One of the shadows stood up and became Sergeant Benbo. “Have to check the line. See you in a little while, Mo.”
Benbo crouched, ran off, and dissolved into the remaining shadows. Nicole looked at the shadow Benbo had been talking to. It was Morio. She spoke to him. “How are you making it, Morio?”
“Okay.” He was as still as the scorched rocks surrounding them. “Major, all this stuff… battle…”
“What about it?”
“I wasn’t ready for it. It turned my guts to water.”
“You have a lot of company… had a lot of company.”
“Major, I never had any heroes before; just never thought in those terms.” His eyes looked at her out of the darkness. “Amos-Sergeant Benbo. He is one hell of a man.” The eyes disappeared. “Sleep. Have to get some sleep…”
…A rough hand shook her shoulder.
“Major?”
She awakened in the bay of the Drac lander. Where every muscle before had been numb, they now ached as though she had been chain-whipped for days. She opened her eyes and saw Benbo squatting next to her.
“Sergeant?”
“In a few minutes we’re docking with the lander’s…” He issued a single, harsh laugh. “I was about to say mother ship.”
She pushed herself into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. When she lowered her hand she saw two Dracs carrying one of the human soldiers out of the compartment. “What’s going on?”
“Dead. Must’ve popped one of your bunch’s goodbye pills.”
“Who?”
“Corliss.” Nicole couldn’t remember any Corliss. Benbo saw the look on her face. “He was one of the mud soldiers-one of mine.”
Nicole watched as the hatch closed behind the two burdened Dracs. “How did you find out that we’re about to dock?”
Benbo nodded toward the closed hatch. “I overheard toadface.”
“Adze Dracon?”
“Ni Adze.”
“Where did you pick up Drac?”
“Amadeen. I was there when the fun turned from practical jokes into soldier-time.” He looked down at the deck. “Everybody talks a little Drac on Amadeen. Then the Mavedah gave me a little refresher course.” The soldier lifted his right hand and looked at it. Even in the darkness Nicole could see the pock marks. The Mavedah, the Drac terrorists on Amadeen, liked to use needles. Electrically charged, dipped in pain-causing chemicals; sometimes just for the sake of the screams and scars that could be made.
She looked away from the hand. “How many Dracs are on board?”
“Four that I know of. And that human, Mitzak. Major?”
She turned her head and saw Benbo, hand still raised, looking back into her eyes. “Don’t try it. Don’t even think about it.”
“About what?”
He lowered his hand. “Taking over this lander. Even if we could take it over, the rest of the Drac fleet out there would vaporize us in seconds. Besides, where could we go? Toadface owns Catvishnu.”
“Do you want them to work on that hand again?”
“Don’t worry about it, Major. This isn’t the Mavedah. The clowns in the little red suits are Tsien Denvedah-regular troops. They aren’t into pain-just victories.” Benbo placed his hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “We’ll get our chance, Major. We just have to wait for it.”
The lander slowed again, rolled slightly, then braked just before the sounds of slamming locks vibrated the hull. The hatch at the front of the compartment opened, revealing one of the red-clad Dracs. It waved an impatient three-fingered hand.
“Dasu! Dasu, nue shaddsaat!”
The human, Mitzak, came from behind the Drac and spoke. “We are at the parent ship. Please prepare to disembark.” The beaten soldiers struggled to their feet and began filing through the hatch. As she came to the hatch, Mitzak reached out a hand and stopped her. He looked concerned. “You and your charges will not be sent to the planet Hujiam, as is usual for war prisoners captured in this sector. All of you will be sent to Ditaar.”
“Why?”
“The route to Hujiam is presently under attack by your forces-”
“Gee, that’s too bad.”
“-We could not assure your safety as is required by the war accords.”
Nicole studied the man’s face. “Mitzak, in your face I see a problem.”
He stood motionless for an instant. “Major Nicole, the population of Hujiam is used to receiving prisoners, and the facilities to instruct prisoners are there. The population on Ditaar is not prepared to either receive or instruct prisoners. I am concerned that the Madah of Ditaar will be very harsh.”
“Madah?”
He looked toward the other soldiers, then closed his eyes. “Perhaps I can find an assignment to care for you on Ditaar. I shall try.”
He turned and left through the hatch. Nicole looked back at the prisoners and saw Sergeant Benbo helping Lieutenant Taiseido to his feet. Sharp fingers jabbed her shoulder, and she turned to see the Drac guard pointing toward the hatch.
“Chova, Irkmaan!”
Joanne Nicole looked into the creature’s yellow eyes.
“Ne irkmaan, kizlode. Irkwoomaan!”
THREE
“When your warriors fall upon the Irrveden, you will capture alive as many of them as you can. Their children will be sent to the Sixth Denve to become future warriors. The ones captured will be told of Aakva’s new Law of War, and of the ordeal that proved this law true. Then you will tell them that they may become a part of a new tribe, the Denvedah, and by so doing they may serve the new law…
“Should you capture those who refuse to serve Aakva’s Law of War, head them toward the Madah. Say to them that this wasteland is their new place. And that it is a fitting place
for those who will fight for neither the Irrveden or the Denvedah.”
The Talman
The Story of Uhe. Koda Ovida
“Humans, this choice you have.” The fat Drac officer in the brown uniform stood upon a raised platform inside the bay of the ill-maintained building at the edge of the military field, V’Butaan, Planet Ditaar. “This choice to be soldiers for humans, soldiers for the Dracon Chamber, or soldiers for no one: Madah. You die, you fight, you starve. Your choice.”
Leonid Mitzak remained silent until the Drac officer nodded at him and left. Mitzak looked over the small assembly. “Dracs do not hold prisoners. Station Master Harudak offers you the same that is offered to all those defeated by Drac forces. You may continue to fight for the USE Force, in which case you will be killed; at this point, a quite foolish gesture. You may enlist in the forces of the Dracon Chamber, in which case you will be put to work serving the Drac cause. Or you may be neither, in which case you will be cast into the Madah-you will become non-beings, living upon charity.”
Mitzak raised a hand and indicated the building. “Because the Dracon Chamber agreed to the war accords, the traditional treatment of the defeated is amended to include these facilities. For those of you who choose the Madah, this facility is available to you for housing, clothing, and food, should you find it impossible to subsist elsewhere.”
Sergeant Benbo looked around, then faced Mitzak. “You’re telling us we’re free to leave?”
“Free to leave this building; not this planet. You are also free to stay, and I would advise staying.” He wrapped his robe tightly about his shoulders, and Joanne Nicole thought she detected genuine concern on the man’s face as he looked toward the room’s open doors. “Out there you will not be under the protection of the accords; instead you will be a subject to Drac custom. And the custom of the Madah is harsh. The people of this city, V’Butaan, are not accustomed to having humans in their Madah. You can expect a degree of hostility from both the citizens and those in the Madah.”
Morio Taiseido spoke: “Mitzak, are there Dracs in this Madah?”
“Of course:” He paused for a moment, then continued. “There is much you should learn before making your choice. But we are not equipped here to provide you with this education. However, I will do what I can. I have been assigned as Harudak’s deputy. I can be found here when you need me.” He stepped down from the platform and walked slowly from the room.
Benbo turned toward Nicole. “What now, Major?”
She turned to see the other prisoners looking back at her. Their faces were tired, confused.
“Until we understand the situation, you people stay put. Taiseido?”
Morio stepped forward. “Yes?”
She took his arm and steered him toward Benbo. When the three of them were away from the others, the sergeant began.
“You think it’s a trap, Major?”
“I don’t know. They already have us by the short and sweet if they want to pack in our meat. I can’t see what purpose is served by letting us loose. Morio?”
“Yes, Major?”
“Benbo and I are heading out to do a little recon. I want you to take charge and keep everyone together. Understand?”
“Yes. What about those other two choices?”
“We’re going to keep fighting, but if we can walk around freely out there, it’s going to make things a lot easier. Just keep everyone together until we know the score.”
Sergeant Benbo tapped Taiseido on the shoulder. “And, Mo. If any of these jokers wants to join up with the Dracs, you know what to do.”
The Lieutenant looked down as Benbo slipped a knife into his hand. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Tell anybody who wants to become a Drac that it’s going to require a little surgery first. And when you say it, mean it.”
Morio slipped the knife inside his jacket and nodded. “You two be careful.”
Nicole and Benbo turned and headed toward the open door. When they reached it, they stopped. To the right was a security fence, and high upon the fence’s catwalk was an armed Drac guard.
The fence separated the building from the military field. Was the guard posted there to guard the field; or was it there to fry anyone stepping through the door?
To the left was a graveled path leading to a paved road. The bank on the other side of the road was crowded with scrub brush and twisted trees. Nicole glanced at the guard again and poked Benbo in the ribs.
“Let’s go.”
They stepped out of the door and began walking slowly toward the road. By the time they were abreast of the guard, it was facing them, leaning against the fence. Its yellow fingers toyed with a lever on its weapon.
“Eey, kiz ve Madah.”
They stopped and the guard raised its weapon and pointed it at them. “Zoom! Zoom!” The guard laughed and lowered its weapon. “Yaa! Yaa!” It nodded its head toward the road. “Benga! Madah hasu, dutshaat! Madah hasu!”
Benbo smiled warmly at the guard. “Kiss my ass, you piss-colored, maphrofag.”
Nicole tugged on the sergeant’s arm. “Move it or lose it, Benbo.”
“Yaa. kizlode! Madah hasu! Yaa-”
“Denvedar!”
The guard whirled around and Benbo and Nicole looked through the fence. Standing there, glaring up at the guard, was a hefty-looking Drac soldier. The thin gold stripes slashed diagonally across its red sleeves marked it as a ninth officer-equivalent to a USEF staff sergeant.
The Drac noncom gave that guard a ragtime that must have been cloned from the first chew-out session the Universe’s first private ever received from the Universe’s very first sergeant. The talk was so rapid that Nicole could only follow it in parts-several mentions of hot tongs, hand-stoking nuclear reactors, broken limbs, extra duty extending to infinity-the usual.
Sergeant Benbo seemed to be enjoying the performance. And when the Drac noncom had finished, and the guard was again walking its post, Benbo waved at the Drac. “That’s telling him, sarge.”
The Drac stared for a moment at Benbo, then spat out a single word. “Vemadah!” The Drac turned from the fence and marched away.
Benbo watched the soldier until it disappeared into the entrance of a small structure. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets and walked toward the road, his eyes glowering at the gravel crunching beneath his boots.
Vemadah.
The word is the name of those living in the Madah; but it also means “coward.”
“Sergeant, what that Drac noncom said doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“Hell, no!” Benbo continued walking, his lips pursed as though there was more that he wanted to say. As they reached the road, he shook his head, glanced at Nicole, then turned to the right. “Let’s find out where toadface keeps the button that blows up this shitball.”
After three hours of fast walking they had circuited the Drac military field. There had been frequent glances from the Dracs standing guard and those riding past them in silent, low-slung vehicles. The only comments came from the children; comments, rocks, and pieces of garbage. But no one stopped them.
After walking the field’s perimeter, they climbed a wooded hill to get some altitude. By the time they sat down to rest, they had both come to the same conclusion: the field at V’Butaan was little more than a way station staffed by less than two hundred Dracs.
On the parking ramp there were four assault landers, two of which looked as though they Were under repair. There were several small transportation flyers, and no atmospheric fighters.
Sergeant Benbo, seated on the grass with his arms wrapped around his knees, glared in the direction of the field. “Major, if we’re going to bust our buns on the barricades, this place would be a waste of time.”
“And a waste of buns.” Nicole stretched out on the dead leaves and looked through the trees at the blue sky. “The Drac Fleet must have a major base somewhere on the planet.”
“This sure as hell isn’t it.” Benbo pushed him
self to his feet and walked toward the higher ground.
As the sound of Benbo’s feet moving through the underbrush faded, Nicole continued looking at the sky, watching the spade-shaped leaves of the trees moving in the gentle wind.
It disturbed her that about the last thing she wanted to spend thought on was running around Ditaar slinging bombs around military installations. She felt as though she could have been anywhere, stretched out in the woods, inhaling the freshness of warm spring breezes, the war far, far away. At that moment Catvishnu seemed like nothing more than a bad dream.
Nicole sat up and looked at the Drac landers on the distant parking ramp. There seemed to be something wrong with her sense of duty-or was it sense of revenge?
The civilians who died on Catvishnu were nothing but numbers: the soldiers who died-well, that was part of the contract one made by joining the Force. There had been none of the soldiers that had been really close to her. No one had been close to her since Mallik. And the big issues were nothing but words. Did she really care about protecting the USE’s mining operations upon Amadeen? No. Was she in the Force to avenge the Amadeen Front’s deaths at the hands of the Drac Mavedah? She shook her head. Not really. Both the Front and the Mavedah were little more than terrorists, each serving their respective bosses by attempting to out-horror the other. She closed her eyes. “What am I doing here?”
…She had been on Earth, in school, aimlessly taking up space… but before that had been Raina Ya, and Mallik.
Mallik: fisher, lover and liver of life. They were both nineteen. In the days they owned the world; in the nights they owned the Universe.
He would stand in the prow of his fishing skimmer, his dark brown eyes searching the blinding glare of the water for signs, and she would watch him. And he would call out to the pilot, “High a quarter to port! The greentails run!”
As the skimmer heeled over to the left, he would rush back to help with the scoops. And he would steal a glance at her…
Enemy Papers Page 21