Cyber Viking 2

by Marcus Sloss

  “Wait, it can do that?” I asked with tucked eyebrows. She giggled lightly.

  “No, I was teasing. When you live as long as I have you tend to take serious things lightly. Our people will probably crossbreed. I have no idea what genetics will produce. Tell me about these furry creatures playing with the mozala,” Daphne said.

  Her eyes watched the playful interactions between the dogs and the climbing koala-looking monkeys. The age-old game of chase was on full display. The mozala would scurry up a wall, jump on a vehicle, and even climb a crixxi for safety. The dogs would bark to continue the game and the mozala were happy to keep going. The mozala would hit the dirt with a slobbering dog in full pursuit. I was surprised by how well behaved our stray dogs were.

  “I am guessing you used these creatures as warning detectors?” Daphne asked.

  “For thousands of years, yes, then we changed. I believe our society, with time, would have shifted to a far more peaceful eventuality. These animals are proof of that.” I kneeled down, clapped, and gave a commanding whistle. Three dogs beckoned my call. I gave each one scratches behind their ears. My face was sniffed by the rambunctious dogs; they were interested in my food smell. I retreated to the yexin strips at the dining buffet to hand some out. Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Some of these animals are still capable of being guard dogs. Others, like that bulldog over there, are companions.”

  I pointed to a bulldog watching the others play while she panted. Oh! We had a lady bulldog to go with Felix.

  “Stupid mothership creators. I was not around when they arrived to decimate our society. We, too, had a past where our species was far less violent. Before Xgates arrived on the surface with their monstrosities behind the blue portals, it was said we rarely fought. Now the most powerful huddle deep within the forest away from the Xgates. They steal from the outer tribes who are forced to defend the jungle from the aliens. Life can be so barbaric and brutal for those on the edges. I wish more could live in a society like this. They would never come willingly, though. Sad, because we need more crixxi to continue our lines—unless we can crossbreed. Which is possibly a reality. I bet we’ll find out soon enough. Your women stare at our males more than your men stare at our women. It is odd. Your men will get muscles soon too,” Daphne said. A mozala retreated to her shoulder. I nudged the chasing hound away. “These dogs, as you call them. They are being bred?”

  “Umm…” I paused to see two female dogs humping each other. “Can they get virum?”

  “Of course. Will they join together, who knows? A very few species die to the virum. Many reject the creatures, and then species like ours accept them. You will find out if your female dogs are pregnant soon with full litters,” Daphne said. She paused our walk by jogging to the dining hall. She returned with a stick loaded with meat. I was handed the stick. “Hold that for me. I’m going to do a test.”

  Daphne ripped up the meat into tiny bits. She then tossed the bits all around us. So many little chunks of meat that no eyes could follow their locations. She swiped her hands against her skirt to clean them. Oh, I probably could have told her the answer she sought. The simple display of dogs sniffing for food brought other dogs around. Even cats joined in on the collection of the tasty morsels. Daphne was proud of her experiment, but quickly frowned as she was crowded with dogs.

  “Will they eventually not request food?” Daphne asked.

  “Eventually, yes. Far longer than you would expect. I had a grand market vendor interested in dogs. You think they are worthy of breeding?” I asked. Dogs were so common. I did not think of them as anything special.

  “I have not managed livestock, ever. Battle, yes. Now I teach the next generation. With that said, I do know that if we primarily live on the ground, sniffing detectors will be useful. These are so tame too. I have noticed symbiotic hunting partnerships. My kind use ‘jungle felines,’ is what the translator is calling them. Give me a moment.” She paused while the translator worked. “Ah, the sabretooth is not too far off. The dog is simply another version of a combination that is more effective than the sole. For raiding teams, I could see the value of locating slaves in hiding or finding stealthed species,” Daphne said while petting a few dogs.

  “I wonder how many survived in Denver?” I asked rhetorically. Daphne continued to walk for a slot between the longhouses. She ignored my comment, instead using her foot to trace out a large square.

  “This area here is wide enough. We build a box vertically, with pulley systems and ladders. Then we use those flat boards to build our homes. With that wood processing machine, we can do thin boards once all the framing is done. The progress will be tediously slow,” Daphne said. She pointed at the crews chopping tree limbs into firewood. “We can build with those. Or wait for the next golden portals.”

  “I guess I need to ask this question. If we get a blue portal next rotation, what then?” I asked, leading us to the rabbit pens. Daphne looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Have you not seen my daughter?”

  “Which one?” I asked, and this caused her to burst into sweet laughter.

  “I guess that is fair. I only have Elifer left. My life has been a twisted nightmare of survival. I will get to your question, but first… Do you think your own kind will push you out of this valley?” Daphne asked while we walked across the pebbled path.

  “Other humans? Ah, I see you nodding. No, I believe they can’t. Our weapons are too advanced at this point. It would take many more than they have. We can even counter their biggest machines. Also, there are other valleys, dips, old cities, and other locations that are much better to resettle in than fight over this land. Why do you ask?” I said.

  I bent over to haul a rabbit out of the pen. Since there was no swollen belly I guessed this was a male. I whistled the dogs over, who were trailing us. They gazed at me with tilted heads. I worked them up with a ready, set, go while pretending to throw the bunny. Eventually, I did toss the bunny on the ground. The hopping animal darted away with hounds tight on his fluffy tail. The commotion caused a spectacle. A watching mozala worked a cut-off angle perfectly to tackle the bunny. Sharp little fangs gouged the bunny until it stilled. A challenging hiss caused the chasing dogs to back up. The dogs knew the mozala was not playing—the warning was clear, and the demonstration was precise. The dogs were docile. The mozala were still wild animals at heart.

  “If they were not safe around younglings, I would not allow them. I ask because we needed a home. If we can make a home here, we will. I want to prosper again. There was a time when our tribe was feared, our soldiers numerous, and our foes weak. I want to be able to protect the young while living a decent life. I see your eyes agreeing. However, we both probably have far different ideas on the term. I will remove my stones if we can find a semblance of happiness. Elifer’s father died two hundred years ago. Her mate, a dozen years ago. If we want to succeed, we need more warriors. To make more warriors, we need more child raisers. All this leads to progress. The very kind I see all around me. Those dogs will become hunters again. Your people will improve this place under your leadership. A leadership even I may admire.”

  “Aw, shucks, Daphne. We are a team, though. You’re part of that team now. I asked if you were planning on leaving to know if we should invest in your well-being. For example, buying vines for rope,” I said, and she smiled.

  “I feel so exposed. So very exposed in all this open space. There is no jungle enclosing me with its leafy protection, no trees blocking spears, and no height advantages. However, I feel secure. Look at my soldiers,” Daphne said with a commanding tone.

  They were distracted, to say the least. A few were herding crixxi kids wanting to feed rabbits to dogs. I winced—that was my bad. Another group of females were loving the attention the builders were giving them. The males were arms crossed, unamused. Not a single one of them was watching for threats. My troops on the wall and those in duo patrols might let a side glance entertain them, but that was… Okay, Mitchell was drooling ov
er Elifer on the wall.

  “Mitchell, this is Cap. Who is your current second?”

  “Sergeant Benson,” Mitchell said over the Gpad.

  “Take a break. Benson has Golf Team. Before you give me attitude, think about the last half hour. Have you been watching the kill zone, your soldiers, or actively patrolling?”

  I saw Mitchell pat Sergeant Benson on the shoulder while exchanging some words. Benson was six-two, two-fifty, and the most determined son of a bitch I had met. Do not arm wrestle with the man, he will never quit. The Gpad alert notified me he had the wall command. I called him.

  “Go for G actual.” I rolled my eyes. I bet he had that one loaded up and waiting.

  “Hey, you are G actual now. Mitchell is becoming Romeo's team leader. Romeo for reconnaissance, not because he is enthralled with Elifer,” I said, justifying the new title.

  “Okay, I already have some rotation ideas planned. Expect me to apply for the defense officer position,” Benson said with a wave.

  “Perfect, Cap out.”

  Daphne slung an arm around my shoulders. I quickly removed her arm with a thumb and index finger.

  “Does your kind not like sex?” Daphne asked, and I frowned.

  “Yes, I happen to have a full bed at the moment. Generally speaking, physical interaction between friends is appropriate and welcomed. We are not at that point. It is one thing to do something overt at a table. Another to do something brazen in the open while I scold troops. So, you were talking about your troops.”

  “If I put an arm around you in the RV, as you call it?”

  “I would let it slide. Especially if I was sitting, perfect titty height.” My guilty shrug brought out her smile.

  “I like your honesty, Eric. My troops… They get serious after the danger hits. Not before. The fact that you disciplined the male flirting with my daughter speaks volumes. She is probably chastising your actions. Which are the right actions. Our home on Crixonia would still be fine if our guards had been alert,” Daphne said sadly. “We need discipline and order. We can have that here.”

  “Well, we do need to be ready. You never know what can happen,” I said, remembering how sudden the XLroach attack had been. “This all goes back to my earlier question. Should I invest community resources into your tribe? Or are you going to seek a more natural home?”

  Daphne walked with me back to the dining area. Perci joined us on the river rock path.

  “Hi, Daphne, how is my husband treating you?”

  “Pestering me with lifelong decisions. I was getting around to the point of the future I see for our people,” Daphne said with a raised eyebrow. We paused our walk. “I want to expand beyond what we can do here with our current people. I would love to stay here based on my initial inspections and community reactions. I think we will run into issues. By we, I mean humans and crixxi. How are you going to maintain all these children when they are birthed?”

  Perci huffed with agitation. “What are you insinuating?”

  I caught onto her frustration. “Perci, think of this community. Now look around at our chaotic organization. Then imagine out of the seven hundred women we have, five hundred decide not to use stones. That is a lot of babies. Then you rotate in another birthing a year later for every year. I think we are getting asked a morality question, or a long-term one,” I said, holding Perci’s hand. “I don’t think Daphne is insinuating that you will be a bad mother. More or less that our community is not prepared.”

  “You will struggle with even the children my tribe arrived with. You have no help,” Daphne said, raising the key point. “We purchased helpers. After our latest challenge, we were forced to surrender their contract to our victors.”

  “Ahhh… I love you, Eric. You were right. I was getting all heated, ready to go full bitch momma mode for nothing. Please explain about hiring helpers or forcing war prisoners to do tasks. How does that work?” Perci asked.

  “The translator. It binds a contract to the device. Violation of that contract will result in punishment for either party. Let me give you an example: We raid this planet. We find a human female scout. We offer her death or a contract. Not fair, but allowed. Like in the grand market, the contract must be agreed to by both parties. Hence the death part. You cannot torture a being into a contract. So we offer the human scout a deal. Raise our children for thirty years without violence against others or themselves. They accept. Thirty years goes by. The prisoner is returned to the grand market. They can then leave through any gate they want to.”

  “No way,” I blurted. “That’s how chain jumpers who are lost get home. They enter a slave contract, serve it, and then go to the golden portal.”

  “Nice people will make your contract one day. Good luck finding nice people doing favors for free. But yes, that is one way the system is used. The intelligence in the golden storage room explained it as a compassion factor. When this system was designed, it was inevitable that competing races would fight. Where there is conflict there normally is a winner and a loser. The defeated races would be captured and forced to aid the victors. That is pretty common around the universe. However, eternal enslavement is almost worse than tossing a planet into the sun. So there is the contract built into the translator that two parties negotiate on. A key factor in those negotiations is that the maximum servant’s term is half a being’s natural lifespan.”

  When Daphne paused, Perci opened her mouth, then closed it again. She clenched her jaw while thinking over the concept.

  “You want to hire helpers. Or capture them. We are not opposed, not in the slightest. I actually have been meaning to figure out how the prisoner system worked. We term it that here, by the way. Prisoners working off a sentence for their crimes. Can we modify the contract later?” I asked while scratching my scruff.

  “Yes, I have had male crixxi become warriors of ours to reduce the length of their term after they were model tribemates. Others became members with oaths to not harm the tribe. I asked this because it makes life far more manageable,” Daphne said with folded arms under her large breasts.

  “Okay, I am also in favor of replacing our labor with hired help, assuming it is safe. How does contract swapping work?” Perci said.

  “Well, it cannot be extended past the maximum term. You have to both agree. Let me give you an example: I capture a human scout. We make a fifteen-year agreement with two meals a day, a roof, and protection. A year goes by and I realize we are losing territory. I will be unable to provide a roof, protection, and two meals a day. The contract states I can fail to meet my requirements until the next golden portal. Then I must sell the rights to a new party. That party must meet to agree to my set contract or awarded in favor of the prisoner; never worse. If I cannot find a new party to assume my rights, they are released. I have failed to meet my end of the contract and failed to pass on the contract. There are past occurrences where I have taken a servant to market, realized they should be set free, and set the price beyond reason. They exited the market orbital with a clear translator free of contract and were able to go wherever they wanted. I have also been raided and had a servant take a spear to the chest to save me. Your contract means nothing to an outside party.”

  Perci nodded while listening.

  “Basically, if you get captured, strike a deal or die. The better the captured person’s deal is, the harder it will be to get an agreement. No-rights, maximum-term contracts are probably accepted right away and everyone is spared. The five-meals-a-day-for-three-months contracts are probably refused. I know I would not want to negotiate for a long time. We can hold prisoners without a contract?”

  “I had this happen to me personally,” Daphne said with a shudder. “I was raiding another jungle planet. A snake bit me that the virum struggled to fight off. My capture was swift. I was tossed into a wooden cage hanging over the jungle floor. I was ignored for four days. Eventually, my vision faded. I awoke back on my home planet outside my Xgate with golden portals. I think they figured I was dead
and would eat me when I stopped breathing. I actually will never know. So if you do not kill a prisoner from another planet, and do not get a contract, they go home. Kind of why contracted servants are worth so much. Most would rather die or risk death for a good deal.”

  “And the cost of, say, a crixxi for childcare on the market?”

  “For a moderate term, about ten times the price of that weapon,” Daphne said. I scoffed with a dramatic arm flail to go with my eye roll.

  “Out of all the items to pick out… These two were gifts; no idea of their costs. How about the power plant on my back?”

  “Five times, roughly.”

  I let out a low whistle. Damn, this power plant cost about half of Marble Heights’s electronics. No wonder why vendors had been mentioning I would find a lot of value in servants or prisoners.

  “Imagine this place with the right building materials. The cohesion of our species with servants helping our every need. That I can get behind,” Daphne said while putting an arm around the much shorter Perci. When her hand was not removed, she gave me a winning smile.

  “I get it. We set up an awesome base. Good enough to protect tavers, farm animals, our citizens, and our valuables. If we can do that, we can help protect some of the downtrodden. Help those with bad contracts get decent ones. The options are numerous, the calling noble if done right, and the results positive for all. Especially if we make our agreements good to the good ones. So how do the translators punish offenders, and what about beings without translators?”

  “Ah, so you are new. If we find humans without translators they have zero protection as long as they remain on this planet. Taking them to Crixonia under duress installs a translator—”