Swords and Saddles (6 page)

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 drop ship 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 were squeezing inside and the door being 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 who 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 Prometheus 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 which 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 active. 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!”

“By risking your life to milk a cow?” Ariana asked in despair. “Juni, there’s plenty of room for guilt in the misjudgments we all must have made, but blaming others and throwing your life away won’t make up for any errors that led to this mess.” She looked toward Scorse for support, but he just glowered at the floor.

Juni flushed again. “It sounds like you’re judging me already. If my projections and assessments were sub-optimal, it was due to independently functioning variables whose impact on the planetary organism could not be forecast.”

“Sergeant, can’t you stop him?” Ariana asked.

“No, ma’am. I have no place to lock him up, no one to spare to guard him, and if I did lock him up or tie him up that’d just mean he died helpless when the Izkop overran the place.” Singh looked at Juni. “Sir, I advise against this in the strongest possible terms.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Juni said.

“If you’re determined to go out there then Goldera will go with you to the side door and bar it behind you. He’ll open it only when he hears you call from the other side and confirms that there’s no Izkop with you. Understand?”

“If that’s required to satisfy you. I’ll be back pretty quickly, and then you’ll see how the Izkop react to proper non-confrontational stimuli.”

#

An hour passed, Goldera calling out occasionally to reassure them that he was okay but that Juni had not returned. Ariana sat huddled together, her face a mask of resignation and despair, until the children raised a fuss and she had to go in to deal with them. Scorse might have been made of stone, staring silently across the room.

Finally, Singh gave Johansen permission to look for Juni. “Don’t leave the building. Just do a visual recce of the yard.”

Taking Adowa along, Johansen led the way to the side entry still barred shut and guarded by Goldera. “Still nothing?”

“Not a sound. Haven’t heard anything except that cow mooing every once in a while.”