Analog SFF, October 2010 Read online

  Adowa gave him a hard look. “We've seen those kids. You should take a look, too. How you going to live knowing you left them to the Izkop?"

  "That's the thing,” Singh agreed. “We came here to protect the civs. It looks like these are the only civs left, so I figure we have to stay here and protect them."

  "But staying here won't make any difference,” Goldera protested. “I wasn't talking about leaving anybody, just us all making a run for it. I won't leave any kids."

  "They couldn't keep up.” Singh looked around. “So we hold here as long as we can, soldiers. Let's get things set up for a siege. None of us were high enough in the food chain to know how close other ships are, or what time the Sara was supposed to send in her status pulse each day. Another ship might already be on the way, might get here in time to lift us all out, if we hold out long enough. Make sure those back doors are sealed and that there are no other ways in."

  When Ariana returned, her eyes reddened but her expression determined, they tallied up the food resources at the outpost. “With you here as well as the children,” she said, “we probably have about six days worth of food left. We've already been cut off for a while and we're not set up for this population."

  "What about the cow?” Stein asked. “She's pretty well-fed. Lot of meat on her. I can do the butchering."

  Ariana gave him a wan look. “The cow is . . . was . . . an experiment, to see how the Izkop would react to her. We were hoping . . . her milk has helped stretch our supplies."

  "I understand, ma'am,” Stein assured her. “A milk-cow isn't like a beef animal. People get attached to them. But it looks like we'll need that meat."

  "We wait six days,” Singh decided. “On the seventh day, if no relief ship has shown up, we kill the cow.” The sergeant stood up, stretching, much harder to see as darkness fell rapidly with the disappearance of the sun. “We're all exhausted, too tired to keep talking tonight, but the Izkop are out there. We stand watches, two hours each, until sunrise. You handle the schedule, Johansen. Make sure the sentries know not to show themselves and not to show any lights, and to wake the rest of us if they hear anything even if it doesn't sound dangerous."

  "Yes, sergeant."

  * * * *

  Johansen saw and heard nothing unusual during his portion of the watch that night. None of the others reported detecting activity, either. But at dawn Johansen was awakened by a string of curses recited in a monotonous tone by Singh. “What happened?"

  "Take a look,” Singh offered, beckoning out the window he was kneeling beside with Burgos, who had the last watch. “Everybody else, get up now!"

  Raising himself cautiously, Johansen felt a pit open inside him as he looked at what the dawn's light had revealed. The area around the compound and for about five hundred meters beyond was empty, but outside that what seemed to be a solid mass of Izkop stood in apparently endless ranks, spears in their hands, gazing silently at the human building. Like the Izkop they had fought in the valley, these wore no armor, just odd pants which came only partway down the upper legs and partway up the abdomen.

  "I didn't hear anything," Burgos said, her hands twisting on her rifle as she stared at the Izkop.

  "Nobody heard anything,” Singh replied. “Or saw anything. These guys are very good at concealment, but we're also too used to depending on the sensors in the armor to hear and see trouble."

  Ariana gazed out with a hopeless expression, Juni seemed puzzled as well as frightened, while Scorse glared hatred.

  The other soldiers took positions at the windows, weapons ready. Most of them simply muttered despairing curses, but after Stein had gazed out for a while he looked troubled. “Sarge?” he questioned. “There's a lot of them. I don't think we got enough ammo."

  Adowa started laughing, then Johansen joined in, then Archer, Goldera, and Nassar. Even Singh laughed, and finally Stein added his hoots to the mix. Only Burgos sat silent, as well as all of the civilians, who were now watching the soldiers in amazement.

  "Why are you laughing?” Juni finally asked.

  That just made them laugh again, loud and long, even Burgos gasping a few bitter snorts, Johansen himself feeling the darkness inside, the certainty of doom which only dark, irrational humor could keep at bay. He noticed that Singh had stopped laughing, though, and was gazing thoughtfully out the window. “What's up?"

  "They're listening,” Singh commented as the last chuckles died away. “You could tell they were listening to us laugh, and watching us. Do the Izkop understand human laughter?” he asked Ariana.

  "Yes,” she said, hurrying to look out the window beside the sergeant. “They have a capacity for mirth that seems similar to our own, though I don't understand any of their jokes. I can't tell from here how they're reacting to your laughter. Their facial muscles don't show emotions in the same ways ours do, so it wouldn't be easy even if we were closer.” Ariana sat back, her eyes now on the soldiers. “That display. It's meant to impress. To frighten enemies. But you all laughed."

  "Is that going to make them mad?” Adowa asked sarcastically.

  "There's an Izkop phrase that I think translates as greeting death with smiles.’ They use it in their legends, to describe heroes.” Ariana took another cautious look outside. “See those Izkop gathered together, the ones with the tattoos and decorations? Those are leaders. They're talking, and I'm sure it's about you laughing when they expected you to be overawed."

  "Let's give them something else to talk about,” Nassar suggested, hefting the buzz-saw. “Hey!” he called. “Whenever you're ready! Come and get it!"

  "Quiet,” Singh ordered. “Ma'am, do you know them well enough to see if they'll talk to you? Maybe arrange a truce or something?"

  Ariana hesitated. “I don't know if they'll—what did they do at Amity? To . . . everyone else? Did they just kill them or . . . ?"

  Singh pressed his lips together before answering. “The dead we saw were lying face up, cut open from chest to groin, their guts spread out around them. We saw the Izkop doing the same thing to dead soldiers on other parts of the field while we were shooting our way out."

  Ariana looked ill, her body shaking. “Why . . . ? Sergeant, I . . . I..."

  "That's okay. If you can't stand dealing with them now—"

  She held up one hand, palm out, her voice steadying even though she seemed to be fighting off nausea. “I have to. For everyone's sake. If they'll listen. But I don't know why they—I'll call to them from here.” Ariana visibly braced herself, then stood up, looking out the window, and called out some words in another language, her voice straining over glottal stops and other sounds.

  The Izkop leaders ignored her, continuing their conference, then abruptly gesturing and calling out commands. With eerie synchronization the entire force of Izkop began stepping back, slowly retreating with their faces to the humans. They kept going until at least a kilometer distant, then the formations broke and the Izkop seemed to melt into the landscape.

  "What the hell happened?” Goldera asked. “Not that I'm complaining, but why didn't they kill us just then?"

  Singh rubbed his chin, then looked at Ariana. “Because we laughed at them?"

  "Yes, but they stayed in threat posture,” she responded. “And they ignored my attempts to talk to them. I'm not . . . oh . . . the peace of the warrior before death.’ That's what it means."

  "So they'll hit us later?"

  "Yes.” Ariana sagged, her face in her hands. “It's a mark of respect, not a reprieve. There's no set period for the peace that I could determine."

  The sergeant nodded calmly. “At least it's obvious they know we're here. Two on watch at all times,” he ordered the soldiers, “the rest get to work fortifying and blockading all the windows and doors as best we can. Don't worry any more about keeping the barricading concealed from the outside. If the Izkop haven't hit us by the time we're done with that, those off-watch will rest so we'll be ready to keep two sentries on at a time all night."

  "What about
us?” Ariana asked.

  "Look after those kids and keep them quiet, ma'am. It'd be a big help if you all also took care of meals for everyone."

  The peace before death had lasted all day. Now, long after sunset, Johansen sat near one window, searching the outside for any signs of Izkop. On the other side of the room, Stein stood sentry at another window. No lights showed inside or out, and the stars and three small moons of this world provided very little illumination.

  Johansen had learned that you found out a lot when sitting silently on sentry duty at night. No human noises around, just you and the quiet broken only by the night sounds of whatever place you were in. Listening and watching, you could hear and feel the rhythm of the creatures and the land. And once you knew that rhythm, you could tell when something was disturbing it.

  Of course, without the colors and noises and activity of the day to act as distractions, ghosts came at night, too. Johansen tried to ignore the phantoms brought to life by his memories, but still the ghosts sometimes appeared in the stillness of the night.

  Ariana came out of the back, hesitated, then came to sit on the floor near Johansen, her back to the wall, hugging herself.

  Johansen watched her for a moment before speaking. “You okay?"

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. “You mean for someone expecting to die very soon?"

  "Yeah.” Their voices were barely murmurs, just loud enough for the other to hear.

  "No. I'm not okay.” Ariana clenched her eyes shut in anger. “Why? I know what's happened, but I don't know why. It's my job to try to understand the way others think. Is it too much to ask that I be allowed to understand why my husband died and why I'm going to die and why those children have to die?"

  Johansen ran one hand down his weapon, concentrating on the curves and edges of it under his palm. “People always die sooner or later. Why do any of us have to die?"

  "I'm not talking about philosophy."

  "Neither am I.” Johansen gave her a rueful smile. “I've seen a lot of people die. Most of the time, I couldn't tell you why they died. Especially I couldn't tell you why they died and not me."

  She returned a curious look. “Most of the time? Meaning sometimes you could tell why they died?"

  "Sure. Sometimes they died because I shot them."

  After a long moment, Ariana spoke slowly. “That was a joke?"

  "Yeah,” Johansen said. “Soldier humor. Some of it's pretty dark, but you either joke about it or let it give you nightmares. Sometimes both."

  "Greeting death with a smile?"

  "Yeah. It's nuts, but it keeps us going."

  She studied him, shaking her head. “You see, I never understood that greeting death with a smile phrase. What did it mean? None of the other humans here I talked to could understand it, either. They blew it off as some kind of symbolism. I thought it must be an Izkop way of thinking, embracing death under certain circumstances. But you showed it. You and the others, and none of you want to die. Now, I think maybe I understand a little. It's not about welcoming death, it's more about laughing at death to push fear aside."

  "Yeah, I guess that's right. No soldiers here, huh?"

  "No. We're all researchers.” Ariana looked down. “What Scorse said, about soldiers being..."

  "Low-class creatures with limited intellect?” Johansen asked, grinning at her reaction. “That's something Sergeant Singh calls us sometimes. But only when he's unhappy with us. One of the things you learn as a soldier, though, is that everybody's got some experience, some way of thinking that might be useful. Most people, anyway. I've met a few who couldn't walk and chew gum at the same time, but only a few. You need all kinds. I've been around enough to know that everything can't be solved with firepower. Right now, I guess that's all we've got, but I wouldn't mind some other options. At least there's something we can do. I don't know what it's like for you and the other civilians."

  "We're not used to any of this,” Ariana said. “The danger. Taking care of the children. Scorse isn't helping at all with that, and even though Juni's okay with children, I can tell he resents acting as a baby-sitter."

  "Well, yeah, big shot research guy, huh? I mean, he seems okay, but that's the sort of job he figures he's supposed to pay other people to do. You said none of the kids here are yours?"

  Ariana shuddered again. “No."

  "That's one good thing, then."

  "Yes.” She stared at Johansen. “Having children at Amity was a demonstration that we were here in peace. We kept the numbers limited so it didn't appear we were settling here. It was all supposed to show that this was peaceful and not aggressive."

  Johansen made a noncommittal gesture. “I guess the Izkop didn't see it that way."

  "Or it somehow didn't matter to them even if they did see what we intended.” Ariana clenched her fists and her jaw, the muscles standing out clearly even in the darkness. “We all thought that we understood them well enough to know if anything was wrong, and I still have no idea why they massacred everyone at Amity. Or what the mutilation after death means. One thing I do know is that the Izkop consider children to be purer of spirit than adults. It may not be a coincidence that the Izkop moved against Amity when the children left to come here for a few days, but why that would matter if they intend killing us here as well is one more thing I don't understand."

  After a long silence, Johansen cleared his throat softly. “I dated a woman for quite a while once. Moved in with each other and all that. I thought everything was fine, that we understood each other, and then one day she left. Said she'd been telling me what was bothering her, and when I didn't respond it just made her more upset."

  Ariana met his eyes. “But you hadn't noticed anything?"

  "Nope.” Johansen looked out at the darkness, not wanting to see the fear and sorrow in her. Instead his mind conjured up a vision of Maria standing at the door to their place, her face twisted with anger, yelling at him. How could you not know? I kept telling you! A door slammed and Johansen started with pulse pounding and weapon coming up before he realized that sound had only echoed in his memory. “We think we can understand aliens when we can't even communicate with other humans half the time."

  "I suppose that's true.” Ariana bit her lip. “It's our job to understand, though, just as it's your job to fight. How could the Izkop have killed so many soldiers? Your sergeant explained, but none of us really understood."

  He didn't want to recall that, but the question deserved an answer. “Um, well, when you fight, you need someone watching your sides and your back, right? Usually, that someone can be a good distance off, but against a whole mob you need them right there, otherwise while you're shooting forward some others can get behind you and grab your arms and stuff.” Johansen shrugged, hoping the hammering of his heart at the memories of the massacre wasn't too obvious to her. “Like Sergeant Singh said, the battalion was scattered all over the valley."

  "But why were you scattered? Didn't your leaders, your commanders, know that you needed to watch each other's backs?"

  "Well . . . there was talk the captain, our company commander that is, was unhappy with the plan, but the colonel, he was in charge of the whole operation, was set on dropping in a wide formation,” Johansen explained. “Because it was a rescue op. We could see Izkop on the hills around the valley, in lots and lots of small groups. The colonel wanted us to cover lots of territory so we'd be wherever the civilians were in the valley. If we just dropped in a tight group then some or even all the civs might be outside the group and then the Izkop could rush in and massacre them.” It seemed funny now, in a sick way. “We didn't know the Izkop had already massacred the civs at Amity, and hidden themselves all over the valley. So we got massacred, too.

  "We knew they were in the hills but didn't see them waiting in the valley itself. Maybe your people showed them how IR gear and stuff like that works. They figured out how to hide from it, and our leaders didn't figure they'd do that. Just a bunch of spear-chucking primitives, r
ight? There they are, no need to look around any more, no need to deploy special battlefield recce, especially when those civs need us now! So we dropped right in as if the whole landing zone was empty. Only it wasn't. Someone wants to kill you that bad, usually there's a real strong reason. I guess I'd like to know what the reason is, too."

  "They destroyed everything in Amity, you told us,” she said. “That has to be a clue. Have I mentioned Prometheus?"

  "Prometheus? The Titan who stole fire from the gods?"

  "You know about that Prometheus?” She smiled, then looked embarrassed. “I'm sorry. I—"

  "No offense taken, ma'am."

  "My students call me Professor Tisrok. My friends call me Ariana. No one calls me ma'am."

  He couldn't help grinning at her. “So what am I?"

  "Call me Ariana. The Izkop legends have a figure I call Prometheus. But the status of the Izkop Prometheus is confusing to me. Is he a god? Or a demon? He seems to be both. The Izkop value knowledge, but also fear having their souls corrupted by accepting things stolen from the gods."

  "You think maybe the Izkop decided humans were working with Prometheus?” Johansen asked.

  "Maybe,” she said cautiously. “But our policies should have prevented the Izkop from ever thinking that. We never gave them anything. What happened that translated into massacre? What did the Izkop think happened? If only..."

  "Yeah?"

  Ariana clenched her jaw again. “My professional opinions aren't popular. There's a lot of politics in academia. I believe that mythologies, religious beliefs, tell you a lot about how sentient creatures think. That's not fashionable right now. The orthodox, prevailing view in my field is that myths and religions are just window-dressing, not really fundamental to world-views and not regarded by cultures as serious explanations for how the universe works."

  Johansen gave her a baffled look. “Where did anyone get that idea?"

  "If everyone you work with and socialize with thinks like that, then it's very easy to believe that it's true of everyone else.” Ariana sighed. “Like Juni, most of my colleagues back at Amity even argued that the Izkop aren't truly warlike, that the spears and the battle practices and everything else are just vestigial and symbolic. They look at a primitive society and see the noble savage."