Analog SFF, October 2010

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "Noble savage?” Johansen shook his head, his eyes searching the darkness outside. “How does someone be noble and savage? And how does that correlate with being primitive?"

  She laughed briefly, the sound filled with pain. “Those are exactly the sort of questions that I ask. Some very technological human societies have been very savage. Noble primitives seem to be something people want to believe in, like . . . like..."

  "Hookers with hearts of gold?"

  "Yes! Those are probably as rare in real life as noble savages."

  "So,” Johansen asked, “what do noble savages do?"

  Ariana sighed, shaking her head. “I've been told by experts senior to me that the Izkop with their primitive technology are so closely connected to their world that they understand their place in the universe much better than we do."

  "How exactly does that work?” Johansen asked after a long moment.

  She caught the hint of mockery in his voice. “That's a question that Juni would answer with many words made up of many syllables. I don't believe the logic behind them. That's why I was posted out here, where I wouldn't bother others any more with my skepticism. Now perhaps I've been proven right, and those experts are now dead in Amity, and it hurts so bad. If only I'd been wrong.” Her voice broke on the last words.

  "You being wrong wouldn't have meant they were right."

  She gave him a tormented look. “Perhaps there's something more I could have done. Something that could have saved everyone."

  He watched the night outside for a moment being replying, glad that her presence had driven off the ghosts. “Nobody can save everybody. It's not your fault.” He'd been told that, years ago. He hadn't believed it. Not really. He wondered if she would.

  Ariana inhaled deeply, then fell silent, so they just sat there for a long time until she dozed off and Adowa came to relieve him on the watch. Adowa raised a questioning eyebrow at Johansen as she pointed at Ariana, but he just shook his head and gestured for quiet.

  * * * *

  When dawn came, there were no Izkop visible. Johansen felt hope stir.

  The morning dragged on with nothing moving outside except the wandering path of the cow and an occasional sighting of a wild creature in the grass or the sky. Archer nursed her comm unit but heard nothing. They checked and rechecked the barricades at the doors and larger windows. Singh moved from soldier to soldier, giving advice and calming talks, but no one said much, as if afraid too much conversation would draw the Izkop out.

  Juni had been pacing back and forth most of the morning, and now peered out the window toward the cow, which mooed piteously. “I should go out. I'll get the milk and come back. The Izkop aren't doing anything today."

  Singh shook his head. “No, sir. Please stay inside."

  "But it's safe. It's almost noon and—"

  Ariana suddenly gasped. “Noon. The banner of the sun flaming its highest.’ Sergeant, one Izkop myth says that's when heroes die."

  "And they might think we're heroes? Everybody to the windows!” Singh barked at the soldiers. “Ma'am, you and the others get in with the kids. Call us if there's any sign the Izkop are trying to get in through the back."

  Ariana ran toward the rear of the building, grabbing Juni as she went, but Scorse fended her off. “I'll stay out here,” he growled.

  Johansen took a long slow breath, his rifle resting on the sill of the window. Behind him, the door to the back room shut. Outside, a flying creature spiraled into the air from the surface of the meadow. “Something scared it,” Goldera said. “They're out there."

  Shouts echoed between the bluffs. The Izkop seemed to rise out of the ground a kilometer away and came forward at a steady pace, staying shoulder to shoulder as they moved. “Hold fire until I give the command!” Singh called, also kneeling at a window. “Make every shot count!"

  "Hell, Sarge,” Goldera commented, “with them lined up like that even Archer couldn't miss."

  "Shut up,” Archer snapped back at him, sounding for a moment more annoyed than scared.

  As the Izkop drew closer, Johansen found himself focusing on small things. The way their hips worked as they moved, not quite like a human's would. The bright gleam of the short stabbing spears every Izkop carried. The faces that seemed curiously impassive to human eyes. The tough vegetation being crushed beneath the serried ranks of Izkop.

  "Fire!"

  Johansen aimed and fired as fast as he could, the solid oncoming block of Izkop an impossible-to-miss target. To his right he heard the thunderous whirr of the buzz-saw pumping out rounds, Nassar walking the stream of bullets across the formation to drop Izkop like a scythe felling reeds in long lines.

  The Izkop came inside the fence, rushing toward the building, while the soldiers fired, reloaded, and fired again. The entire compound seemed to be packed with Izkop, a seething mass that lapped against the building like a flood, then abruptly pulled back, retreating to the fence and continuing their withdrawal.

  "Cease fire!” Another shot rang out and Singh glowered at Burgos. “Cease fire, dam-mit!"

  "Oh, man.” Goldera stared at the mounds of dead Izkop outside. “They're crazy. They just kept coming. We are so dead."

  "They'll be back,” Singh agreed, “but we're not dead yet."

  A wild mooo echoed through the sky, followed by the appearance of the cow trotting quickly across the yard, her panic-stricken eyes huge and rolling as she dodged the piles of dead.

  The soldiers simply watched it wordlessly for a long moment before Archer said something in a wondering voice. “They didn't kill the cow?"

  Another long silence, then Stein spoke with great deliberation. “Maybe they like cows."

  Archer grinned, too wide and too stressed for the gesture to represent real humor. “Next time they hit us, I'm going to be behind that cow."

  "No. I mean it. Maybe they're like Sarge's people."

  Singh bent a severe look on Stein. “I'm a Sikh, not a Hindu."

  "Oh. Right."

  "Anybody hurt? No? Ammo inventory,” Singh ordered.

  Nassar waved toward the discarded buzz-saw. “I've got sixty-five rifle rounds left, but the machine gun's out. Now it's only good for hitting them over the head with."

  "We'll probably need it for that,” Adowa said. “Thirty-two rifle rounds remaining, Sarge, plus twenty for my pistol."

  "I got forty,” Archer reported. “Uh, no pistol,” she added unnecessarily since as the comm carrier she didn't also lug a side arm.

  "Thirty-one,” Stein said in an apologetic voice. “And one clip for the pistol. That's twenty, right?"

  "You taking time to aim again, Stein?” Goldera joked in a strained voice. “I got twenty-nine for the rifle. No pistol."

  "What happened to your side arm?” Johansen demanded.

  "I dunno. When we got clear of the dropship it wasn't there. I didn't think I should go back looking for it."

  "Eleven rounds rifle, twenty pistol,” Burgos said, then looked away when Singh glared at her again.

  "We need to exercise fire discipline,” the sergeant said coldly. “Corporal?"

  "Twenty-four and twenty for the pistol,” Johansen said.

  Singh looked out the window, his eyes calculating. “We might be able to fight off another attack before the ammo is gone. Maybe not. Then it'll be hand-to-hand."

  "They got a lot more hands than we do,” Adowa said. “Any chance we can get some of those spears off the bodies out there? Those have more reach than our combat knives."

  "It wouldn't hurt.” Singh turned his gaze back on them. “Not at night. It'd give us cover, but it'd give the Izkop a lot more. Any volunteers to go out there now?"

  Johansen blew out a tired breath into the silence. “I'll go."

  "Me, too,” Goldera hastened to add. The others removed the barricade at the front door enough for the two to slip out, then Johansen and Goldera scuttled toward some of the dead Izkop, staying low.

  Johansen grabbed some of the spears, watching
carefully in case any of the Izkop were playing possum and still able to stab. He passed the spears to Goldera, who kept one eye on the fields beyond the compound. “Hey, corporal,” Goldera whispered.

  "Yeah?"

  "You scared?"

  "Damn right."

  "Me, too,” Goldera confessed. “If you get out of this and I don't, write my mama and tell her I did okay even though I was scared. Will you do that?"

  "Sure.” He picked up a final two spears. “That's two apiece for all of us. Let's get back inside."

  "You got anybody you want me to tell anything if you don't make it?” Goldera asked Johansen.

  Johansen didn't have to think about it. “Nah. Not anymore.” Then they squeezed inside and the door was sealed again in their wake.

  Singh had them all try out the spears, which Johansen found to be well balanced for stabbing though far too front-heavy for throwing. Then everyone settled down again, the civilian adults once again all in the front room. “It's hard being in there with the kids,” Juni complained. “They keep asking what's happening, when they're going home, can they talk to their parents. We told them to play and stay quiet."

  "It's going to be a long afternoon,” Singh observed. “Tell us something about the Izkop,” he asked the civilian researchers.

  Scorse grimaced. “I'm a planetary geologist. I never cared about them."

  Juni shrugged. “I'm a planetary ecologist. I don't study one species, I study the whole system. I received my doctorate at Old Harvard under Professor Haddleton, you know. I know how everything contributes to the whole."

  "Wow,” Adowa commented in a non-committal tone.

  That left Ariana, who gave Scorse and Juni cross looks before speaking. “I'm not an expert on them. I study mythic structures."

  "That probably makes you the biggest living expert,” Burgos grumbled.

  Ariana winced as Singh and Johansen both pinned Burgos with glares. “That's true. What do you want to know about the Izkop?"

  "We know they're farmers and herders. That was in the predrop brief.” Singh gestured outward. “Tell us something about how they think. You said something about heroes before. Meeting death with smiles. What kind of heroes have the Izkop got?"

  Ariana hesitated. “There's one hero they call the pass-holder. Their greatest hero. I call him Horatio, after an ancient human hero who held a bridge. The Izkop Horatio held a pass against demons that were trying to wipe out the ancestors of the Izkop. He died holding the pass. I haven't been able to figure out whether they revere him for saving their ancestors, or for dying while holding the pass. I have a feeling their admiration has at least partly to do with the fact that he died, and would be the same even if he hadn't succeeded. I mean, presumably there wouldn't be any Izkop if he'd failed, but what mattered was that he died. Or was willing to die. I think."

  "Hmmm.” Singh blew out a long breath, his eyes still on the outside. “This Horatio was one of the founders of their race?"

  "No. He was something separate. That mattered, too. He wasn't of them but he died saving them. Does that make sense?"

  "It does to me,” Goldera commented. “The whole Jesus thing, right?"

  "Well, yes, but Horatio wasn't the son of their God. The Izkop don't have one God. They have many gods, and each of those gods is many things. The theology is incredibly complex,” Ariana continued, warming to her talk. “Each god can look like anybody or anything. Disguise, concealment, is very big in the Izkop myths and legends. Disguised gods and demons are everywhere, either looking for Izkop to reward for their deeds or trying to corrupt the Izkop with temptations."

  "Like the Prometheus guy you told me about?” Johansen said.

  "Prometheus.” Ariana shook her head. “He's very hard to figure out. I use the name Pro-metheus for him because he steals the gifts of the gods and tries to give them to the Izkop, like ancient Greek myths say the Titan Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to humans."

  "What did the other gods do to Prometheus for stealing their secrets?” Johansen asked. “In the Greek myths didn't Prometheus get chained to a mountain?"

  "Yes!” Ariana gave Johansen a happy look, clearly pleased to have found a kindred spirit. “He was chained to a mountain and a vulture ate his liver every day. Since he was immortal the liver regrew every night. But the Izkop Prometheus, if I understand it right, hasn't been punished because the gods can't catch him."

  "Because he can look like anybody and anything?” Goldera asked.

  "Exactly, only Prometheus and the other gods and demons, aren't really he.’ Each one is they’ because they're simultaneously different sexes and no sex."

  Goldera squinted at her for a moment. “This isn't a Garden of Eden type thing?"

  "No, for a couple of reasons. Prometheus is always trying to give the gods’ secrets to the Izkop. It's an ongoing crime or temptation, rather than some ancient act. And also because the gods can't catch and punish Prometheus. Only the Izkop can identify Prometheus. From what I've seen in their mythology, with its emphasis on disguises, the Izkop put a great deal of importance on actions, not appearance."

  "Kind of the opposite of humans?” Adowa remarked dryly.

  "In a way, yes. Even though humans don't look the same as them, the Izkop didn't seem bothered by that when we landed. I think it's because the Izkop always cared more about what we did than they do about our appearance. It's possible,” Ariana continued in a cautious voice, “that the Izkop have as much trouble seeing emotions in each others’ expressions as humans do trying to see feelings in an Izkop. We're not sure. The emphasis on actions over looks might be the result of them all naturally having what we'd call poker faces."

  Nassar shook his head. “What'd the people in the valley do, then? Are you saying the Izkop are reacting to something the humans did?"

  Scorse had fixed a burning gaze on Ariana, who pretended to ignore it. “I think something must have happened which made the Izkop believe that we had done something."

  "They blew up everything,” Archer said. “That tells us something, right? Did they think all of the human equipment had come from this Prometheus guy?"

  "They couldn't have! We didn't give them anything. That was a firm rule."

  "You said people showed them stuff,” Adowa noted.

  "Well . . . yes,” Ariana conceded. “But there were rules. Let them see things, so they could understand they were just tools, nothing magic or accursed. And the Izkop have gradually shown more interest in our equipment. They know some human words, and the most common ones we hear are probably show us use it.’ So we show them how we use something. They've been asking that more, from what I understand, and why would they be doing that if they thought our equipment was the property of the gods?"

  "It's natural curiosity,” Juni said in a low voice. “Universal survival behaviors linked to integrated conceptualization of their environment. Not superstition."

  Ariana sighed. “If the Izkop thought our equipment was something stolen by Prometheus from the gods, if they thought we humans were working for or with Prometheus, why would they keep showing interest in the equipment? And if showing interest in the equipment is okay for them, how could that have triggered a massacre?"

  "It doesn't make sense,” Singh agreed.

  "It doesn't make sense to us," Johansen said.

  Burgos spoke in a flat voice. “They're going to kill us, and they've already killed a lot of people. Who cares why? All we can do is kill as many of them as we can."

  Annoyed at how Burgos had dismissed Ariana, Johansen shook his head. “I'd like to know why someone or something wants to kill me, and if I can understand that maybe I can figure out how to stay alive."

  "Right,” Singh said. “We need every advantage we can get. It's too bad we don't know more about the Izkop."

  Juni flushed and stood up abruptly, as if the comment had somehow been aimed at him. “I'm going to milk the cow. It needs it, and we need the milk."

  "Juni?” Ariana
stared at him. “After that attack? You're not serious."

  "Of course I'm serious.” He pointed toward the back room. “We need the milk. And it's obvious that the Izkop won't stop me. They haven't stopped me any other time."

  "Juni—"

  "Why would they hurt me? I'm not a threat to them. I'm not posturing as a threat. I've always gotten along with them. I'm an ecologist! They're close to the land. They understand living in harmony, in balance. I don't disrupt the balance.” Juni held up the milk bucket, his face pale but determined. “I'm going out. It'll take fifteen minutes. I'll be fine."

  Ariana cast a pleading look at Singh, who shook his head. “Sir, I think you'll die if you go out there."

  Juni kept addressing Ariana. “The Izkop need to see some normal, routine behaviors. Something that indicates that we understand how things are interconnected. I'll show them that we are working to get the environmental imperative back in balance. That always works. Analyze the system and take corrective action. Right now they're reacting to the presence of these soldiers, this disruptive factor in the eco-system, so everything's out of balance."

  "Sir,” Singh said carefully, “there weren't any soldiers around when the Izkop wiped out everyone in the valley."

  "And we have only your word for that, don't we? How long has the military really been here and what did they do? We had no problems here until soldiers came!"

  Adowa had the look of someone who couldn't believe what she was hearing. “What we did was come here to try to save your butts and lost a lot of friends. No problems here? What happened to your friends and their truck? What happened to your emergency equipment?"

  "There's something you're not telling us,” Juni insisted, “or more likely something you don't know. I've supervised assistants. You're just . . . workers. No disrespect, but you have very limited perspectives. I know the big picture, and I can fit in the details. I understand what's happening. And that's why I know I need to stop acting as an au pair and get to work as an expert in ecological synergism!"