“Apparently, I didn’t piss them off enough,” Eisenstadt replied sourly. “Unfortunately, I was the first person you contacted.” He smiled crookedly. “Have you ever considered the military?”
“I tried,” Mel replied. “Didn’t meet the height requirements.”
“Pity,” the commander replied. He saluted and then offered Mel a leather-bound folder. “My orders are to a) not start that interplanetary incident you mentioned; b) get you to leave; and c) if I can’t do b without doing a, get some kind of agreement out of you.”
Mel laughed and took the folder. “Tell you what. If fuckwad over there apologies and promises to keep his mouth shut, I’ll introduce you to the captain.”
Without turning, the commander barked, “Hendriks, apologize! That is an order.”
The big marine gritted his teeth. “I apologize,” he ground out. “Sir.”
“Wonderful,” Mel replied. She walked over to the big marine. “I want to show you something, Hendriks,” she said. She pointed to a large tree stump. “Ice Storm in the Mountains,” she barked. “Remove that.”
The named Rynn looked at the stump and then aimed his weapon. There was a flash and a sizzle, and where the stump had been was now a pile of smoldering dust. “Size isn’t everything, Hendriks,” Mel said. “It’s how you use what you got.”
“I dunno,” one of the Rynn said in a stage whisper. “I think I kind of like big.” She gave the big marine an admiring look.
“They’re smart. They’re well-trained,” Mel said in mournful tones. “But discipline is not one of their strengths.” She rolled her eyes. “One more thing, Hendriks: don’t touch without asking.”
“Touch?” the marine said in confusion, and then his eyes widened. “That’s a girl?”
Mel nodded. The marine gave the Rynn who spoke a closer look. The Rynn woman smiled back. To Mel’s surprise, the marine blushed.
“You don’t think …” the commander began.
“Humans and Rynn are, um, compatible,” Mel replied in serious tones. “Word of warning: rape is a capital offense among the Rynn.”
The commander spun around. “If I hear of anyone, anyone, touching a Rynn man or woman without permission, I will personally shoot the son of a bitch,” he growled. “Do you feel me?”
“Sir. Yes sir,” chorused the marines.
“Now that’s how you respond to an order,” Mel said in admiration. “Cool Evening Breeze,” she said, indicating the Rynn woman who spoke. “You’re in charge of keeping the commander’s boys and girls out of trouble.”
The Rynn woman rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Yes, Security Chief,” she chirped cheerfully. “Summer Rain, Night Clouds, you’re with me.”
“Come along, Commander,” Mel said. “The captain awaits.” She turned at a chirp from the tiny Rynn woman at her side. “Oops, sorry,” she said to the little Rynn. “Commander, may I present Morning Mist Blunt.”
“Blunt?” the commander said. “Wait, you’re Melanie Blunt, and the captain calls herself Kasumi Blunt.” He looked at the tiny Rynn woman. “That makes her …?”
“My wife,” Melanie replied. “Sort of,” she amended. “The proper title would be ‘core sister.’” Morning Mist nodded in agreement. “Like I said, humans and Rynn are compatible.”
“Do you have a core?” Morning Mist asked through the Torque.
“She means, are you married?” Melanie supplied. “Down girl.”
“Meanie,” Morning Mist replied in teasing tones. “Well? Do you?” she chirped. “Oh look, he’s turning pink,” she chittered. “That’s so cute.”
The flustered commander pulled out a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his neck and face. “Um, no ma’am.”
To the commander’s surprise, the little alien skipped over and took his hand. “I hope Kasumi likes you,” she said.
Melanie sighed. “You’re embarrassing the commander, Morning Mist,” she chided. “And we’re keeping Kasumi waiting.” She sighed again when Morning Mist started pulling the commander along. “Interesting times, indeed,” she muttered and followed.
With Morning Mist holding on to his hand, the commander was taken to the tentlike structure that had been erected against one side of the large clearing. Even before they reached it, the commander could see that a steady stream of Rynn were entering and leaving the pavilion. Reminds me of a field headquarters, he thought. His eyes narrowed and he pointed. “What the hell is that?”
“Power generator,” Mel replied.
“It looks like a mini nuclear reactor,” the commander said nervously.
“Fusion reactor,” Morning Mist corrected. “We really weren’t expecting to have to build a trading base, and fusion reactors are easy to assemble from local material,” she informed the commander.
“Easy to assemble,” the commander repeated slowly.
“Oh, yes,” Morning Mist replied.
“I had the same reaction you did, Commander,” Mel put in. “From the Rynn point of view, a fusion reactor is barely above a campfire.” She stopped as Morning Mist chittered. “Okay, okay, barely above a water wheel.”
“You joke,” the commander protested. Mel shook her head. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “What would they consider, um, modern?”
“Well, if we really had the time, we’d build a singularity reactor,” Morning Mist replied. “Though I suppose a matter-antimatter reactor could be done using Earth technology,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s almost as good.”
The commander swallowed nervously.
12
IN OTHER NEWS
“This is CNN with late-breaking news.” The CNN logo rippled like a flag before it was replaced by the face of one of the network’s most popular female newscasters. “This is Crystal Chandler reporting.” Behind the reporter, the familiar image of the current president was displayed. “In a surprising joint news conference, both the House majority and minority leaders have announced that the long-simmering impeachment investigation has resulted in a recommendation to impeach, and that a vote is imminent.”
The image of the president was replaced by an image of the mentioned House leaders. “This afternoon, the House impeachment committee has returned a recommendation to impeach,” the majority leader said in somber tones. “Their investigations have uncovered strong evidence of influence peddling, corruption, and—most worrisome of all—indications that the president and or members of his advisory staff may have provided classified information to Russia.”
The image returned to the newscaster. “In other late-breaking news, the California National Guard has announced that it will be conducting readiness drills near the California/Oregon border. The CNG has thrown up a no-fly zone over the area and will be redirecting any air traffic away from it.” The reporter turned to face another camera. “More late-breaking news when we come back.”
The reporter waited for the all-clear signal from the director before dropping her professional smile. “Readiness drills, my ass,” she half-snarled. “My nose is twitching like crazy,” she said to the air. She stood and ordered, “Danny, see if we can get someone up there.”
The director shrugged. “Most of the senior reporters are going to be heading to Washington,” he said. “I kind of think an impeachment trumps military maneuvers.”
“Send an intern,” the reporter said. “Send someone,” she snapped. “If I could, I’d go myself. No one puts up a no-fly over an exercise.” She walked over to a computer terminal. “What the fuck is up there?”
“Except for some recent UFO reports, that area is mostly known for being the home for people too crazy even for California,” the director laughed. “You know, survivalists and—” the director made air quotes “—militias.”
“Gun nuts, you mean,” the reporter said sourly. “Get someone up there, Danny.”
“Commander,” c
alled a voice. Lieutenant Commander Eisenstadt turned. Approaching him was a Rynn woman. She was the tallest Rynn he’d seen so far—though still tiny by human standards—and unlike most Rynn, she wore what appeared to be a Chinese monk’s tunic and pants dyed orange-red. In addition to what he had started thinking of as a standard-issue ray gun, she wore a sword strapped to her back. “Captain Kasumi,” he said in greeting.
“I’m glad I’ve run into you,” the alien captain said. “Someone took another shot at one of the Rynn,” she said in even tones.
“Were they hurt?” the commander asked in concern. He blew out a relieved breath when the alien captain shook her head. “That’s a relief.”
“That’s the third time in the past five days,” the alien captain replied. She tapped her Torque. “Fortunately, bullets are easy to deflect,” she said. The commander nodded. “But it’s only a matter of time before someone does get hurt.” She ran her long fingers through her pinkish head crest. “This is your planet, Commander, but I cannot allow this to continue.”
Eisenstadt nodded again. In the two weeks since he’d arrived at the alien camp, he had learned to respect the Rynn. More importantly, he liked the alien captain. “I can send out some patrols. Maybe they can find out who’s doing the shooting,” he said. “Check that: I have a proposal.”
The alien captain waved him on to continue.
“What would you think of a joint patrol?” the commander said.
Kasumi smiled. “I would think that I am talking to someone who has come to the conclusion that Rynn and humans have a future together,” she said in approval. “Five and five?” she suggested. “With a human in command.” The last was a statement. Her crest twitched. “It is your planet, after all.”
“To quote a line from one of my favorite movies,” the commander replied, “this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Speaking of beautiful friendships …” Kasumi took hold of the commander’s arm. “Are you free for dinner?” She smiled up at the commander. “Morning Mist keeps asking about you.” She chittered in amusement. “I love how humans change color.”
“It’s bad enough being stuck in the middle of nowhere, but how did I get stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of alien children?” complained Corporal Hendriks.
There was a stream of chirps and chitters. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m a fully grown Rynn,” complained the tiny alien walking at his side. “It’s not our fault humans are giants.” She looked up at Hendriks. “And you’re more giant than most, fuzz ball.”
“Now listen, featherbrain,” Hendriks snapped back.
“Hendriks, Cool Evening Breeze, zip it,” Sergeant Stilson snapped.
The sergeant was a broadly built and muscular black man in his mid-thirties. With his shaved head and a nose that looked as if it had been broken multiple times, he looked the living embodiment of a soldier. This was one of the few times where looks were not deceiving. The sergeant was the veteran of five tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, and the recipient of two Purple Hearts. The scar that ran along his right temple was the result of an IED and earned him one of those Purple Hearts. He was exactly what he appeared to be.
“I wish those two would just fuck the shit out of each other and get it over with,” Stilson grumbled under his breath. There was a chittering at his shoulder.
“Truth,” came the translation from Summer Rain’s Torque. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, order them to share a kip?”
“It doesn’t work that way, Ms. Rain,” Stilson replied. “Unfortunately.”
Summer Rain chittered.
“Did I say something funny?” asked the sergeant.
“Obviously not intentionally,” Summer Rain replied. “But ‘Ms. Rain’ sounds very much like another word for these.” She cupped her breasts.
“I called you ‘tits’?” Stilson said in disbelief. “Oh, great.”
Summer Rain chittered again. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said. “Besides, it was oddly flattering.”
“Humans fifty pedin to the west,” Ice Storm called out. At the same time, there was a crack, and Hendriks stumbled and fell.
“Hendriks!” screamed Cool Evening Breeze. She jumped on top of the fallen soldier just as the forest erupted with gunfire. She activated her portable defense shield and expanded it to cover both her and the human. “You better not be dead, you big, dumb, ugly fuzz ball,” she chirped in anger. “I’ll never forgive you if you’re dead. Do you hear me? Never.”
Hendriks groaned. “How’s a man gonna get some sleep with you chirping in his ear?” he grumbled. “It’s just a fucking scratch. I’ll live.”
“Do that,” Cool Evening Breeze said in relief. She looked toward the source of the bullets. Cool Evening Breeze stood and pulled her weapon. She started chirping angrily. For some reason, the translator didn’t change the chirps into English. She started firing. Small explosions started to erupt.
“Ooh, she is really mad,” Summer Rain chirped.
“Sounds it,” agreed Stilson. “Could have used those screens in Afghanistan,” he said in musing tones. “Any chance we can get the specs on them?”
“If it were up to me, I’d give you the specs on anything you wanted,” Summer Rain replied. Her crest rippled. “Spirits, she is really, really mad.”
“Not that I want to get between that girl and whoever she’s mad at, but I’d like at least one of them alive so I can find out who the fuck that is,” Stilson grumbled. “I thought you said Rynn were too peaceful for their own good.”
“So did I,” Summer Rain replied. “Ice Storm, shut down Cool Evening Breeze’s weapon.” A moment later, the explosions stopped, but they could see that Cool Evening Breeze kept trying to fire before the lack of explosions registered. “Hendriks better live through this, or I’m going to have an angry geologist on my hands.”
“She’s a geologist?” Stilson said in surprise. “I thought she was, well, a marine.” He paused. “She curses like one, at least.” He looked at where Cool Evening Breeze was now apparently applying first aid. “Girl is wasted as a geologist.”
An hour later, Stilson was interrogating one of the survivors. He wasn’t too surprised to find they were part of a survivalist compound. What did surprise him was the stockpile of weaponry retrieved. “Jesus, all that’s missing is some DU rounds,” he said to Summer Rain. The Rynn’s crest fluttered in agitation. He looked at the prisoner currently being interrogated; he had his eyes locked on Summer Rain.
“There’s an interrogation technique we call good cop/bad cop,” Stilson said in a low voice. He quickly explained the concept. “How would you like to be bad cop?”
“I have a better idea,” Summer Rain replied.
Five minutes later, Cool Evening Breeze was in the interrogation room. Twenty seconds after that, they were restraining the Rynn geologist, who had her crest fully extended and her vestigial claws slashing angrily at the now cowering militia man.
“Now that’s one fine bad cop,” Stilson whispered in admiration.
“Keep it away from me!” screamed the militia man.
“A really fine bad cop,” Stilson whispered again. “You start talking, and maybe we’ll find someone else for it to eat,” the sergeant said coldly. The militia man screamed.
Corporal Hendriks was lying in a cot in the temporary sick bay staring moodily at the ceiling, his head resting on one massive arm. He looked over when he heard a chirping. Cool Evening Breeze was standing in the doorway.
“May I come in?” she asked quietly.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” the corporal said. He raised a hand. “I gotta say something.” He paused. “I’m not good at words, kinda why I’m a soldier.” He blew out a breath. “You’re one hell of a woman, you know that?”
“I think you’re one hell of a man,” Cool Evening Breeze rep
lied. “So why do we always fight?” she asked plaintively.
“My ex-wife used to ask me the same thing,” Hendriks chuckled. “I think I used to pick fights with her on purpose.”
“Why would you do that?” Cool Evening Breeze asked. She walked over and sat down on the edge of the cot.
“Honestly?” he asked. The Rynn geologist nodded. “Well, cause the makeup sex was so fucking good. That’s why.” His smile twisted when Cool Evening Breeze chirped in amusement. “She finally left me for an accountant.” He blew out another breath. “I got a bad temper, I drink when I’m not on duty, and those are my good points.”
Cool Evening Breeze nodded. “I have one question.”
The corporal raised an eyebrow. “Just one?”
Cool Evening Breeze nodded.
“Well, if anyone has earned a question, you have. Ask your question.”
Cool Evening Breeze leaned closer. “When do we have the makeup sex?”
13
CORE BROTHERS
Two months after the first soldiers had come to meet the alien Rynn, a town of sorts had sprung up in the clearing. From the original two dozen military personnel, there were now close to fifty soldiers, though a good number of the newest arrivals were highly trained technical specialists.
One of the newest arrivals was Technical Specialist Joseph Franklin. Like all tech specialists, he had gone through basic combat training, but unlike the others, he had not taken the advanced individual training; he had been allowed to skip it due to his degrees in mathematics, engineering, and computer science.
Despite his military training, he was more lean than muscular. He wore horn-rimmed glasses and had a tendency to be somewhat obsessive. While he was not close to anyone, he had a reputation for being friendly and helpful.
“Hey Joe, me and the guys are heading over to the canteen,” called out Combat Engineer Marcus Freeman. “You coming?”
“I’ll catch up to you later, Marcus,” Franklin replied. “I’m in the middle of something.”
Redemption Song Page 12