by Pj Belanger
there was no turning back, so why worry about it?
“Well, let’s get you positioned. The copter is ready,” Corporal Allen said as he waved to several other soldiers that had gathered. “Remember Major, these Bothians aren’t part of the Federation, they play by different rules. The four-armed bastards have no morals, no scruples. Despite their technological advancements, in some ways their soldiers are still barbarians.”
“Yes, I’m aware of their nature, Sir.” Markus wished the Corporal would shut up and let him get on with the mission.
“Be careful to hide that you are a Curthian. We may think of you as human, they think of you as evil magicians. They usually skin your type alive. It is even rumored that they eat your kind to get your magical abilities. You’ll have to be careful, these creatures have a good sense of smell. So even if you use your camouflage, they may still sniff you out with their large sensitive muzzles.”
Markus said nothing. None of this was new to him. He’d always done his homework before going on a rescue whether it be saving hostages on the desert planet Lardis or bringing home a diplomat’s kidnapped children on board a ship on Mokus’ moon. He always studied his enemies carefully; both biologically and mentally. His ability to adapt depended on his knowledge of the species he was going to mimic and fool.
He got into the army helicopter buckling securely into one of the side seats. Allen jumped into the seat next to him, “We’re going to drop you just beyond the Federation’s defense lines. You’ll probably have to hike in a couple of miles before you hit the actual battleground.”
On his other side, Markus nodded to the Lieutenant who was commanding the operation. “Any new prisoners taken since my most recent report?’
“No. Since they took the last researcher, we’ve been careful not to expose our remaining scientists to kidnapping. Once the Bothians read your identification papers, hopefully, they’ll immediately take you to Hades, their research island. We will start broadcasting our frantic search for you as soon as you land so they’ll be looking for you already.”
“It’s not everyday I’m a famous biochemical expert,” Markus sarcastically remarked.
“Well, it will be up to you to convince them of your authenticity. They captured seven of our experts. Hopefully those taken don’t give you away as not being one of them.”
Markus nodded, he’d read the dossiers on the group of scientists taken from the army base, Fort Ludin. The Bothians had successfully deployed an unexpected assault on a research facility almost fifty miles into Federation territory. A group of twenty Fed scientists had been working on a chemical agent that would neutralize the stun weapons used by the Bothians. It would have provided a quick end to the war. Now the doglike blue aliens were supposedly using the captured humans to perfect their own override to the antidote or even worse perfect their own neutralizing chemicals to use against their human enemies.
He mentally went over each individual’s report: Ben Coste, 64, a biochemist, Ned Brandt, 35, a computer specialist, Molt Silvermaen, 42, a bio-engineer, Shana Literis, 31, electrical engineer, Cofflin Mcabae, 56, and Carl Mothis, 49, both bio-molecular specialists and lastly Lar Brawnstin, 38, electrical-chemical engineer. All were top-notch scientists that had been recruited by the Federation and not trained soldiers. He had his doubts on how well they were faring under the doglike Bothians that were now their barbaric masters.
Markus got his parachute on as they were approaching the drop point. Sounds of large explosions had filtered into the helicopter. The battle was not far away. “Good luck to you Major. Remember you have only three days before we destroy that island. Don’t miss the rescue boat. Our men will be looking for you every night. If you don’t show up I’m afraid…”
Markus held up his hand, he didn’t want to hear it. He’d be at the rendezvous spot with the kidnapped scientists. Doubts did nothing but cause fear. The Curthian got in position to jump. The jungle below looked lush and ominous. He was aware that the foliage hid a lot of dangerous wild life that lay below all that greenery. He wondered, not for the first time, why the Federation was so interested in protecting this planet. It held only a few colonies. Let the damn Bothians have it!
His hand went to his thick bush hair. The mass dense black crop on top of his head had taken him almost four days to grow it just right. He checked one last time. Imbedded in the extra firm fuzzy top was a screwdriver and a small multi-purpose army knife. Hopefully after they had captured him and taken him to the island, he’d have time to hide his escape tools for future use.
His hand also went to his left ear. Markus was relieved that the translator device he had implanted in his ear canal did not show. He hoped it worked properly, not having had time to check it completely after it had been placed and he’d regrown the ear. Deciphering their guttural words would be crucial in understanding the Bothian’s plans.
He wore regular army fatigues but his pants and shirt were purposely ripped in several places and they were covered in mud. Even his army standard assigned combat boots were slashed in several places. He looked like he’d barely survived a plane crash, which is what the army was broadcasting. He quickly glanced in the helicopter window’s reflection. He had taken the last few hours before leaving and added bruises on his face along with a good-sized scrape above his eye.
This planet’s worth ain’t your call entered his head as he jumped out of the helicopter. You’re just a dumb caring Curthian, a minor universe player trying to make a difference or was he trying to convince the Federation that he was indeed human? He’d already picked his landing spot. A small break in the huge banyan trees lay far below his chute. He carefully maneuvered so that he’d land right in the middle of it. Soft moss cushioned his landing. Still, he thunked down hard.
Shaking the landing cobwebs out of his head, he immediately took his chute and buried it under a rock pile. Markus looked around at his surroundings. He was deep in the thick of the jungle. The battleground was to his northwest but he couldn’t see the sky to figure out which direction was right. The Curthian cursed himself for not carrying a compass but the army had warned him against any gadgets. “Let them think you were in a crash, you should have nothing. They are suspicious bastards.”
He eyed the banyan tree. Looking at his hands, especially the fingers, claws began to appear. He took off his boots and concentrated on his feet. Again, claws appeared. Grabbing on to the trunk of the tree, he easily climbed. At the top, the open sky was visible, letting him see the sunrise. Getting his bearings, he now knew which way was northwest. Down the tree quickly, he returned his body to normal, replacing his boots, and headed first due north.
The jungle quickly swallowed him up. The smell, especially for a Curthian, was overwhelming. Also having a sharp sense of hearing, he had to try and shut down the cacophony of the rainforest noises. Just the crickets alone were loud and monotonous. The bugs could dull your mind. His intense combat training helped him keep his concentration focused.
It was slow going, as there was thick foliage. He plowed through. The soldier saw huge snakes and chattering monkeys from high above. The primates threw whatever they could at him. Despite having changed his body to reflect the colors of the jungle, he knew he couldn’t change his body smell, so he kept alert. It certainly hadn’t fooled the damn monkeys as another coconut struck his shoulder! Several times loud roars, close by, entered his consciousness, warning him to be very careful.
Markus estimated he’d gone several miles before the sounds of the battle were right nearby. He started to see spots of scorched land - battle scars on the earth. The Curthian headed forward toward the sound of the large booms. When he had gotten close to the bombardments, he took several minutes to change back to his previous appearance.
He came closer to the loud shelling, taking in the best places to cross. The army had instructed him on where the best place would be to get captured. They would keep the battle to the west, so he went into the totally scorched land to the east. The smell of the burn
t jungle made him gag. Markus headed forward crossing to where he could hear the huge guns of the Bothians pounding away. He got so close as to see the blue monsters placing several large casings in a gun turret. They were so busy firing that as he stood near the jungle’s edge just short of the opening, the doglike creatures hadn’t even noticed him. He was in a dilemma as to how he could get them to see it without being totally obvious as to what he was doing.
Maybe I should bark, he sarcastically thought as his eyes took in the canine ears and long snouts. At this close range he could actually see their whiskers. The dog image, however, was somewhat ruined by their standing upright with their blue fur and four arms protruding from their torsos. Fortunately, one of the Bothian soldiers glanced his way. It took several moments for the doglike creature to register what he was seeing. Then the Bothian let out a howl and pointed at the human intruder.
It again took several more seconds for it to register with the other soldiers. Marcus took the opportunity to start running as if trying to escape. The Major hadn’t gotten far when he felt the buzzing zip by his ears. They were firing their stun guns at him. It was time. He turned holding up his arms in surrender.