Renegades: Origins

by Kal Spriggs

  The young cub with him was one I did not recognize. She was young, perhaps as young as I. She held two stocks of wood, each carved to resemble a gun. For a moment, I did not understand it.

  Then as she went through the motions to aim and fire the toy weapons at a target, I began to understand. Much as I practiced stealth, even when I knew no one watched, she practiced firing and aiming. She practiced for hours, under the hot star and the mid morning heat. Grathir coached her through holding the weapons, firing, and then loading and cleaning procedures. I watched and listened until the two finished and went away.

  The feral part of me saw little opportunity, but some part of my soul awakened. I was tired of skulking through the garbage pits. I was tired of living off of scraps… I wanted more, wanted to challenge myself. I crept back down to the garbage pit and picked out four sections of wood. The chigathi taught the female cub the use of two weapons. I had four arms, I would learn the use of four weapons.

  In my youth, I had some vague mental impression that I would acquire four guns, and with those, I would return the pain and agony upon my tormenters. As I said, I was feral. I did not understand the complexities. But I would come to learn those… and of honor.

  * * *

  “Grathir, when will I use a real weapon?” the female cub asked. Grathir had called her Chuni, now and then, but I still labeled her as Ulla, which meant soft. An ironic term, I know, for none who lived in the refugee camps were soft. Still, the feral part of me hated her, for she had not experienced the terror of pursuit. She had Grathir to talk to her, to guide her.

  I had no one.

  Grathir’s hide fluoresced with rew and sadness. “You may use a real weapon only when necessary. When Leader Turak and his freedom fighters come to recruit, you may receive a weapon. There is also the mercenary recruiters, if Turak will not take you.”

  “But…” I could see her hide turn rew as well. “Grathir, I would not wish to leave you.”

  “You must,” Grathir’s voice was strong. His hide suffused with yir. “You must become strong, become a leader to our people. More importantly, you must lead with Chiga. You must gain the experience in battle which all our people will honor.”

  His words seemed odd to me. From what I had seen, Chiga was granted by my people with birth. I was born Xurok, dishonored. I had that beaten into me from when I was young enough to understand the words.

  “I know, Grathir,” Chuni responded. “But I do not want to leave you.”

  They discussed their plans for her often, but many times they came back to this. As Chuni grew, it became more and more likely that one of the mercenaries or freedom fighters would take her on. Her training, too, had grown, and Grathir led her through tactics and even discussed strategy, honor, and philosophy with her. I picked up these last things as I was able, though I cannot say that I understand them fully, even now.

  Some part of me felt shame that I listened in where I was not invited. Still, I continued, when I was able. I missed some sessions, over the months and years, either due to beatings or the necessity to find food. But I also practiced. I learned and I had begun to grow and develop myself. I was now two meters in height, though I still retained my ability to hide and to move stealthily. More, I had practiced constantly with my four arms, to the point where the training exercises were second nature.

  Grathir gave a chuff of exasperation, “Chuni, I will—”

  He broke off and looked up. A moment later, I heard the whine as well. A ship was landing. It was sleek and slender, the barrels of weapons jutted from the tip. I bit back a whine of fear and crouched lower in the brush. I did not recognize this ship, but I had seen ones like it before.

  The predatory craft dropped down to the north end of the camp, where the supply ships sometimes dropped food and other supplies. There were shouts and a few screams from there The side doors on the small craft opened and Humans dropped out. They wore a motley mix of garb, most with some type of body armor strapped on over it. I recognized them as scavengers, men who looted the best of whatever pitiful goods the camp contained.

  Four of the men, however, came towards us.

  “Chuni, go and hide,” Grathir said.

  “Grathir, I can’t leave you,” Chuni said.

  The Chigathi turned a sullen shade of red, and I could see the ral fluoresce under his hide. “Chuni…”

  Perhaps it was my years of being prey or perhaps the old Chigathi‘s tactical knowledge worked its way into his lessons. Either way, I saw that it was too late. The men who approached had already cut them off from the camp. The female cub could not reach the camp before they could intercept her.

  “What have we got here?” one of the men laughed. “Ghornath playing at being soldiers? You wouldn’t want us to think you’re dangerous, now. We protect your camp, after all.”

  “You’re pirates,” Grathir grunted. “You take what you want. We will not oppose you. I just am playing with my granddaughter.”

  “She’s female?” one of the pirates laughed. “God, you are an ugly bunch. Good thing for you, too. It’s been a while, but it hasn’t been that long.”

  I felt my fists clench and ral suffuse my hide. Rape was one of the worst crimes, punishable by death in the most painful manner among my people. Not even one of my tormenters had threatened that to even a lowly Xurok such as myself.

  Evidently, Grathir viewed the dishonorable in even graver terms, “She is but a child, how could you even joke at such a—”

  “My men will say whatever they please, cripple,” the man in the lead said. He wore a black shirt and black pants, and carried a shotgun. Unlike the others, he wore no body armor. “They will do as they please, as well. If you offend me, I will end you. If your pathetic excuse for a camp causes me issues… I’ll wipe it off the face of this shitty planet, understood?”

  Grathir seemed at a loss for words. He looked driven almost to the point of noman kar, blood-rage, but he somehow, ever so slowly, pulled himself back. “I understand. I apologize. We don’t want any trouble.” His voice was tight, controlled.

  “Good,” the man said. His head jerked around at the sound of gunfire. He gave a chuckle, “Sounds like some of my men needed to make an example. Good thing they did it first, I wouldn’t want to have to drag your corpse up there.”

  He looked over at his men, “Search them.”

  “We haven’t anything,” Grathir said.

  “We’ll determine that,” the pirate boss said.

  Two pirates stepped forward and searched Grathir first. They kicked at the wheels of his cart, as if he might have hidden some wealth inside it. Then they patted his harness down. One of them pulled out a cluster of his medals, then threw them to the ground.

  The feral part of me had taken over, and I had started to creep down the hill towards the pirates. I was still small for my age, only two meters in height, but I had put on mass and muscle. In the past years I had begun to hunt some of the creatures in the area of the camp for food with a javelin. I knew how to stalk prey.

  The two men moved on to Chuni. One of them patted down her harness, then gave a whoop. “Look here, nothing of value, eh?” He held up a ring, a large red stone central on it.

  “That looks nice,” the pirate captain said. “We’ll be keeping it.”

  “You can’t,” Grathir snapped.

  “I warned you already about telling me what I can’t do,” the pirate captain brought his shotgun up.

  I had drawn within a dozen meters at that point. I don’t know why I threw. Some part of me had come to like these two, the old veteran and the young girl he protected and taught. The feral part of me hated these humans, who stole the pathetic treasures we still kept.

  The javelin struck the pirate in the torso. He gaped at it, the three foot shaft jutted from his chest. The three men with him stood in shock as well. I ran at the captain and the man closest to him. The captain had fallen to the ground, but his guard started to bring his shotgun up. I bowled into him, a hun
dred and fifty kilograms of angry young Ghornath. I was caught up in kava, with nothing but the hunt on my mind. I grabbed at his weapon and wrenched it from his hands, even as my forelegs drove him down and smashed him against the ground. I brought the weapon up, aimed at the two men who had begun to rush back to their boss. The words of Grathir went through my mind, even as my muscles followed the training which he had meant for someone else. My finger found the trigger and I fired.

  The noise and light came as a shock. I stared towards the two men and I saw the comical expressions of shock on their near-chouma faces. One of the men stumbled and fell to his knees. His hands went to his abdomen. The other fumbled with his weapon, tried to raise it. I aimed my stolen weapon at him and fired once. He still stood so I fired again. The pirate stumbled backward and lay still.

  There was silence for a long moment and I lowered the weapon.

  “Who are you?” I heard Grathir’s voice.

  I almost bolted, but I knew that I had been seen, people would talk, and it was best to show respect to one of the Chigathi. I lowered my head submissively, I am Xurok, honored one,” I said.

  He wheeled his cart forward and I could see that Chuni had moved to the two dead pirates, where she pulled weapons off of them. “Xurok…” Grathir mused, as he studied the scene. “What is your name, cub?”

  I dropped lower. I dreaded this, most of all. There were a handful of Xurok in the camp. However, even they looked upon me with disgust when I revealed my name. I felt the lur make my hide pale with shame. “I am Rastar Bastaff Antor.”

  Grathir did not answer for a long moment, “You came aboard the ship Benrath Zul?”

  It took me a moment to speak, “I did.”

  “Your mother was Atcari Bastaff. She was a skilled healer,” Grathir said. “I was told that her cub had died.”

  I couldn’t meet his gaze. “I was… left at the garbage pits.” I had been beaten and discarded. It was not a memory that I wished to revisit, not with the smell of the human’s blood in my nostrils.

  I heard a tinny voice and looked down. The dead pirate captain wore a radio, clasped to his belt. From it I heard the voice repeat, “Captain, any trouble over there?” I heard an echo of the voice from a radio that Chuni held.

  Chuni stepped forward and passed the radio to Grathir. She did not meet my gaze and her coloring was rul. Grathir adjusted the radio and then spoke into it. His voice sounded heavily distorted with static from the radio at my feet. “Local scavengers,” he said. “Had to chase some of them off. We’re headed over, found some good stuff, have the crew come out, we’ll need their help to load it.”

  “Be a good thing to get something worthwhile,” the voice answered. “I’ll let them know. We had to kill a couple of the cats. Jash was drunk and pissed on one of their little shrines so we had to make a few examples after that.”

  I could see rul fluoresce through Grathir’s hide. Still, when he spoke, his voice was even, “Well, Jash gets to carry the heavy boxes. I’ll meet you at the ship.” He lowered the radio and I could see rage that lurked in him. I cowered back against that rage, for I had received it before from others. I did not think to defend myself, not even with the weapon I held. I was Xurok, he was Chigathi, should he wish to take my life, it was his.

  He noticed my stance and he gave a grunt, “Rastar, you have done well.”

  My head came up in surprise.

  He noticed the kul that went through my hide. “Do not fear, Rastar. You have done well. Very well,” he said. “Had you not intervened, Chuni and I would be dead.” He grunted, “It is the second time I owe my life to a Bastaff.”

  I didn’t understand his words, then, but I understood his meaning, “Chigathi, I am but—”

  “You killed the four of them,” Grathir said. “Do not underestimate your value. You might be seen as Xurok… but Chiga can be earned. The time has come to earn more,” he pointed at the distant ship. “They will attack the camp, if we do not kill them all.”

  He took the rifle that Chuni handed to him. “We will not have much time. They will grow suspicious as time passes. We must attack them while they are outside their ship.” He looked over at Chuni, “You must go with Rastar. Attack them from up close. I will signal the attack and will snipe their leaders.”

  Chuni looked between Grathir and I. “Yes, Grathir.”

  Grathir looked back at me, “Guard Chuni, she is… crucial. Promise me you will protect her?”

  “I swear,” I said. I did not realize how painful that oath would later prove.

  I knelt and pulled weapons and ammunition off of the two dead pirates at my feet. I held their larger shotguns with my lower arms while I clutched their submachine guns in my upper arms. I fumbled a bit as I reloaded, but soon enough I had figured the weapons out. I took off at a ground-eating lope, Chuni caught up with me. We ran in silence, but I could tell she was curious about me.

  I could see lir flush her hide and she opened her mouth to ask a question. I picked up the pace so that I had no breath to speak and she matched my pace. Best to keep our minds on the coming fight, I thought.

  I felt odd. I had been prey so long, only recently had I hunted even the weakest of creatures near the camp. Now I had taken the lives of humans. It gave me a sense of power and yet at the same time an ache. I did not want to take more lives… yet I saw, for myself, an opportunity. There were Xurok, I knew, who died in heroic deeds. These Xurok were considered cleansed. Their crimes and dishonor forgotten.

  Could I but die in battle, I knew, I might erase my father’s failures.

  At this point, I knew the hidden ways of the camp well. I led Chuni into a drainage ditch, heavily overhung by Tranzi Bush, which allowed us to move rapidly and stay out of sight. I heard her grunt in disgust at the smell, but I didn’t care. The refuse of the camp drained here, but I had used it as a shelter before.

  At last, we reached the north end of the camp. I pushed up the embankment and slowly crept through the fragrant Tranzi Bush. It’s long, needle-like thorns broke off against my hide. Each bush extended long, vine-like creepers, heavily laden with thorns, which would spread everywhere and strangle out other plants. It also reeked, a full scent of corruption and rot. The Tranzi’s grew wherever they could and, if allowed, would overgrow the camp in a matter of weeks. The Tranzi Bush was normally brought with whatever aide workers came to the camp.

  I hated the Tranzi’s, but they provided good concealment as Chuni and I crept towards the open field. Two dozen pirates stood in clusters as they talked. Two of them stood near the open hatches to their ship. The others stood near the boxes of supplies we had last received. I felt lur suffuse my hide when I saw that they had dumped the bags of Mratha rice on the ground. The Mratha rice was the refugees main supply of food. Even I managed to get some small handfuls to sustain me. Ghornath would go hungry at the waste and destruction.

  I could see a cluster of Ghornath to the side. They stood with slumped shoulders and drooped ears. I recognized the faces of some who had pursued me before. They had looked so fierce as they bullied me then… yet now, I could see, they were broken, hopeless. My faint ideas of revenge seemed so petty now.

  The human pirates on guard at the ship both dropped, followed a moment later by a pair of shots. I surged out of the Tranzi Bush, all four weapons aimed.

  Humans, I know now, have eyes designed as predators. They focus on one object at a time, with precision. Ghornath have eyes that can focus on everything in their field of vision at the same time. We have some problems with different distances and perspective, but we are more able to work at multiple actions at the same time. Almost all Ghornath can intuitively accomplish two different, even unrelated tasks with each set of limbs.

  In the past few years, under Grathir’s unknowing tutelage, I had developed myself to the point that I used all four limbs at the same time, each armed with a weapon. I opened fire with my four weapons. I focused on the pirates nearest the Ghornath, so that they would not have the chance to
harm more of my people.

  Behind me I heard Chuni open fire. She seemed to notice my focus and fired on the pirates to the other side.

  Imagine a crossfire of six weapons, all of them firing in controlled bursts, all of them controlled by two people who have clear fields of fire. Next, imagine two dozen men, most of them relaxed and thinking themselves safe. Our ambush tore through the pirates like a Koon through a pack of Dronthir. Pirates staggered and screamed. One of them brought up a weapon, aimed at either myself or Chuni, but I cut him down even as I fired at three others. My shotguns ran out of ammunition and I dropped them and picked up two weapons from downed pirates.

  The firefight ended with eerie suddenness. The last of the pirates grasped at his wounds and tried to crawl towards the ship. He jerked and lay still and a moment later single shot echoed from Grathir.

  I lowered my weapons. I looked over and saw Chuni had gone pale as kul saturated her hide. The shock she felt showed in how she stood, as well. Still, she gave me a nod, and I felt a sudden connection with her. I felt a surge of confidence. I had accomplished something, I had made a difference.

  The Ghornath on the edge of the camp came forward. They seemed hesitant, yet as they approached, one of them gave a shout. “The Xurok, he risked the entire camp!”

  I lowered the weapons, “No, I-”

  “Get him!” Two of my normal tormenter’s charged forward and the others pursued.

  I did what I knew to do. I ran.

  * * *

  It was several weeks before I dared to return to the camp. In the time since, the pirate craft had disappeared. Either Turak and his freedom fighters had taken it or the refugees had hidden it. I found myself drawn to the spot where I had watched Chuni and Grathir train. In the starlit night, the spot was empty. Even the pirate’s bodies were gone, though dark spots remained where they had bled and died.

  I had fought. I had killed. I had gained Chiga, yet I was still Xurok. I could never be anything but Xurok… for my father’s failures would always overshadow anything I could do.