by AJ Reissig
Chapter Eight
The security force arrived at twilight. The tillers hosted a dinner for Nash’s crew in the town hall, filling the long table with food. There was more of the bread that Nash had so enjoyed, roast pork drizzled in a sweet sauce, and a steamed green. A sweet honey-wine washed down the meal, and when the feasting was complete, Lockskin and other tillers filled the hall with song.
Dawn found Nash and his original party back in the evergreen forest, heading toward the crash site. A smoky fog drifted through the trees in the cool morning air. Sparkling droplets of dew hung from the tips of the tree needles, occasionally dropping to the ground with a soft pat-pat-pat.
“Hey, Doc,” Nash called. The doctor, who was walking a few meters in front of Nash, turned to face the Colonel and continued walking in his side to side gate, only backwards. Nash shook he head.
“I forgot to ask you, how did things go with Mr. Trewin’s exam?”
“Just fine.”
“Did you find out what is wrong with him?”
“Arthritis. He is simply old, Colonel, and they don’t have anti-inflammatory drugs as we do.”
“What did you do for him?”
“I gave him a thorozipalin injection for the inflammation, which began to work before the exam was over. He does drink a tea made of a local herb for the pain, but claims it gives him an upset stomach. I left him a few antacids to deal with it. I have a sample of the herbs, which I plan to examine when we get back to the Trident. I also drew blood so I may study the tillers further.”
“How’d you convince him to give a blood sample, Doc?”
“Well, it wasn’t easy, but after I—”
The doctor’s heel caught on an exposed tree root, causing him to fall backwards, landing flat on his back. Several laughed, and one of the security detail leaned over and helped Talhoo to his feet. Talhoo nodded his appreciation and began to brush the evergreen needles from his jacket.
A whizzing sound filled the air and two arrows slammed into a tree near one of the security detail. He dropped to one knee, brought his plasma rifle to his shoulder, and shouted.
“Ambush! Weapons on stun!”
Screams and yells filled the air as several drogs rushed from a shallow depression. Two, holding short recurve bows, stood opposite the depression. The kneeling security specialist fired several shots at the archers, taking them down in quick succession. The rest of the team fired on the rushing drogs, dropping them before they reached axe and sword range.
Nash raised his pistol to fire and was hit in a full body tackle from behind. The pistol went flying and Nash’s chin was driven into the bed of evergreen needles that coated the forest floor. Nash could smell the assailant’s sweat, a foul odor that reminded him of hog farms back home. He rolled to the left as fast as possible, breaking the assailant’s grip. As he clambered to his feet, Nash jerked the kukri from its leather bound sheath and spun to face his attacker. The drog reached for the sword on his belt, but the up-hand slash of the kukri stopped him. The creature staggered back, howling. Nash pressed his advantage, thrusting the thick blade into his assailant’s chest. He heard the ribs crack and felt the tip of the blade reach the drog’s spine. As the blood gushed from the wound, Nash continued to push forward, walking a few steps as he drove the weapon deeper. The creature took a few clumsy steps back. Nash savagely twisted his wrist, then yanked the blood soaked blade from his enemy, who collapsed to the ground in a limp heap.
Panting, heart racing, Nash looked around. Drog bodies scattered the forest floor and each of his crew had their pistols drawn. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t heard the report of the pistols. He was retrieving his dropped pistol when he noticed Marov. Mouth open and face pale, she stared at him with eyes wide.
“Everyone alright?” Nash called. He turned his attention to Marov. “Natasha, are you alright?”
Several heads nodded. Marov continued to stare, unblinking, mouth still open.
“Ms. Marov, are you okay?” he repeated.
She blinked and looked Nash in the eyes, but still no words came.
“Doc, you want to check her for shock?”
The doctor nodded. As he approached Marov, she threw up her hands and backed away.
“I—I am fine,” Marov finally said. Her eyes drifted to the drog Nash had killed, then back to his face. “I have never seen such.… It was so ….” He voice trailed off and she looked back at the body. She shook her head. “To think you could kill a man with such depravity.”
“I fight to win. I’d prefer to use a plasma weapon on stun, but I will resort to any means necessary to complete the mission.”
Marov threw her arms down at her sides, hands bound in tight fists. She stared at Nash through narrowed slits. “Do you realize how barbaric that was?”
Nash, face now in a snarl and still clutching the bloodied kukri, stepped toward Marov, who instinctively lurched back as he approached. His chin quivered and he spoke through tight lips. “If I hadn’t done that, he would have killed me, then moved on to you. There is no room for civility in battle. It is cruel, vulgar, and bloody, and what you saw here is nothing compared to what I have seen… or done.”
“Colonel!”
One of the security team was kneeling alongside one of the fallen drogs. He pointed to the creature’s face, which had a long scar that ran from forehead to chin.
“I recognize this drog from the attack on the village yesterday,” the crewman said.
Nash peered at the humanoid’s face. “You sure?”
“Yes, sir. Look here.” He turned the drog’s face to one side, revealing three hooped earrings of a dull gray color. “I pointed this out to crewman Danz when we stunned the thing yesterday.”
Davenport put his hands on his hips. “Do you think they were hunting us, Colonel?”
“Maybe.” Nash knelt on one knee and wiped the blood from his kukri on the creature’s worn and tattered rawhide pants. “Looks like Kallack sent some of his boys to do his dirty work for him.” Finished, he stood again and looked Davenport in the eye. “From this point on, I want every party that travels to or from Vale to have an armed escort. Understood?”
“Perfectly, Colonel.”
“Good. Now let’s get moving. I don’t want to wait for the stunned drogs to wake.”
“What about the dead drog?” Marov asked.
Nash slid his kukri back in its sheath. “Leave it and let it be a warning to his comrades.”
Marov swallowed hard. “Is that not a little—”
“No,” Nash interrupted. “It’s very barbaric. Now let’s get moving.”
