Scientist-Farmer knew there were thousands of non-sapient species from many galaxies which would do the same. More often than not, it was the female of the species who would defend her young to the point of death, but it occurred often enough in the male that the data was statistically significant. It wasn’t Human-Male’s actions that … disturbed him. It was the expression on the kit’s face.
Scientist-Farmer froze the image of the youngling, clinging to Human-Male’s neck, wetness pouring from her eyes onto reddened cheeks, and her mouth opened in a scream. He curled the tendrils of his synapses around the image as tightly as he could, and then loosened them in frustration. It didn’t help to hypothesize. If he had been present, he would know already what he needed to know … but the Spotters merely recorded. They were machines, incapable of thought-to-thought communication.
He stared at the image of the human kit’s face for a long passage of time. Then, resolved, he sent a polite communication to Researcher-Xenohistorian, requesting a meeting.
January 5.
Hershey
Hershey’s ears drew back, and the fur on his neck stood up. The growl was low in his throat, not menacing, but warning. His human looked up in surprise, her eyes moving quickly from Hershey to the front door of work. They played most of the morning again, and came into work in the early afternoon. They stayed only long enough for Hershey to have a nap and to say hello to the big black lab. Clare kept the door to the room with the pens open now, and Hershey could wander in and out to visit the other dogs as he pleased. He liked that. He still stayed mostly with his human, though – he never knew when she would want to pet him or give him a treat.
“Down, boy,” his human said softly.
Hershey knew what “downboy” meant, but he did not sit down. There was a human standing outside the door to work. It had been a few days since he had smelled a human, not counting the dead ones that were beginning to smell really bad. He stayed on his feet, staring at the door.
His human picked up one of the toys she had found when they played. She held it in her hand, and it smelled of oil and, faintly, of a lit match. Hershey didn’t like that toy. She never threw it for him, and it would be hard on his teeth if she did. He growled again, very softly.
The human outside the door to work tried to turn the knob, but of course Hershey’s human kept it locked. Still, at the noise and motion of the knob turning, Hershey went berserk. It was his job to keep his human safe now, so he let her know emphatically there was someone outside the door. His barks boomed in the small office and the black lab joined him, his bark even more thunderous from the pens. Within seconds, there was as much cacophony as eighteen dogs could make, and Hershey was well-pleased with their efforts.
“Just a minute!” his human yelled, and then she went and closed the door to the room with the pens, cutting the effectiveness of the aggressive barking cleanly in half. Hershey gave her a disgusted look she didn’t notice and kept up his solitary defense.
“Quiet, Hershey!” his human snapped. Reluctantly, he stopped barking and opted for a low, threatening growl, his teeth showing. He had heard “quiet” many times before. It meant if he kept barking, his human would put him in a pen. She didn't do it often, but Hershey had suffered the indignity of it once or twice before, when the lady in the white coat and the men with the uniforms worked, too. They hadn’t come to work in several days now that Hershey considered it; obviously, they weren’t as dedicated as his human was.
“What do you want?” Clare said, speaking loudly through the door. Her voice, which was normally kind and friendly, was harsh.
There was a moment of silence from the other side. Hershey wasn’t surprised when the voice that replied was female – he smelled that already. He wished she would come inside – he liked sniffing humans. Well, the living ones, anyway.
“I – I was worried about the animals,” the woman called. “You’re open?”
Hershey stood, his hackles raised in warning, as his human propped a chair up on its back legs against the door and opened the door into it, jamming the door to leave only an inch or two of open space. It was plenty of room for Hershey to start sniffing.
“Are you armed?” his human asked, her voice still unfriendly.
There was another long silence, and then the other woman replied, “Why in the world would I be armed?”
Clare pulled the chair away and opened the door quickly, practically dragging the smaller woman inside before shutting and locking the door again. The other woman smelled like oatmeal, sadness and dog. The dog scent was fading, and Hershey understood her sadness. He decided he would downboy like a good dog, so he stepped over to his bed and settled into it.
His human put her new toy into its holder around her waist. The other human gasped on seeing it, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m Clare Bonham,” his human said, extending her hand. The smaller woman stared for a moment, and then took her hand, shaking it slightly.
“Sandy Anderson,” she said softly. “Pleased to meet you.”
There was an awkward silence for a moment, then Sandra continued speaking. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, honestly,” she said. “I thought I would have to break in to let the animals go free.”
Hershey’s human smiled, and her scent changed slightly as she relaxed. “Have a seat,” she said to Sandy and she moved around to sit behind her desk. Hershey expected her to tap her fingers on the desk like she usually did when somebody came to get a dog or a cat from work. But his human didn’t tap her fingers; she just talked some more in that sad voice she sometimes used when an animal needed to be “put to sleep.” Sleep sounded kind of nice, actually. Hershey yawned widely, his eyes already beginning to close. He only half listened, even though the new woman had a nice, friendly voice, and he could tell his human was very happy to hear her talking words. He had time for another nap!
Mike
Mike opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness of fluorescent lighting. His mouth was dry, and his head felt heavy and full. A machine made a rhythmic beeping noise somewhere close by. He breathed in and immediately knew he was in a hospital. He turned his head slightly, and Kari stood up from the chair next to his bed, coming over to him and taking his hand.
“He’s up?” he heard Jenn ask, and the relief in her voice told him how worried she was. She came into his vision on the other side of Kari, looking down at him.
“Hey, dork,” Mike said, his voice a barely audible croak.
“Hey, yourself, slug-abed,” Jenn replied tartly. “Leave it to you to be lazy and leave all the hard work up to the girls.”
Mike smiled wanly. Kari grinned. Jenn scowled. Everything was normal. Normal-ish, anyway.
“Guess we made it to Fort Knox?” he asked Kari, gratefully sipping some of the water she offered him with one of those plastic bendable straws hospitals used. He was surprised Jenn hadn’t already claimed it.
“We did,” Kari smiled, relief evident in her eyes. “You’re in the ICU at the hospital on base – well, what’s left of it, anyway. Your wound is really infected, Mike. You've developed sepsis.”
Mike frowned, not knowing the word. His brain was sluggish, and fatigue pulled at him. “Okay,” he said tiredly. “When can I leave?”
“Told ya!” Jenn exclaimed victoriously and held her hand out. Kari sighed and dug a five dollar bill out of her pocket, handing it to Mike’s sister.
“It wasn’t his first question,” Kari grumbled accusingly.
“I said in the first five minutes,” Jenn replied smugly, pocketing the bill.
Mike started to smile, but it faded before it made it to his lips. He felt like shit.
“How long have I been out?”
“About a day. They have you on fluids and antibiotics now, and you’re going to be here for a week or more. It was really good we got here when we did, Mike.”
“You almost died,” Jennifer added grimly, her voice small.
“Nah,” Mike mumble
d, glancing at his sister. “I’m too mean to die.”
“God’s truth,” Jenn agreed, sounding just like Gran.
He saw Kari smile, and thought he liked her smile. He would have told her so, but his eyes suddenly grew heavy, and he drifted back into semi-consciousness. He heard them gathering their stuff and putting their coats on to leave, but he couldn’t even rouse himself to say goodbye. He hoped Kari came back soon – it was nice seeing her face when he woke up.
He was almost asleep … or maybe he already was asleep, and it was just a dream. He watched uncertainly as a black metallic orb floated in the air, moving toward him with decided purpose. Mike felt a surge of fear as the orb moved closer to him, bobbing soundlessly. He reached for the call button, but his fingers were thick and heavy. Before he could press the button, the orb floated right next to him. He felt a sharp stab on his right shoulder, and he was unconscious in seconds.
Scientist-Farmer
Scientist-Farmer felt intense relief when the Spotter finally reported it was able to deliver the injection. The human female and the sibling did not leave Human-Male’s bedside, and he was unable to risk the intervention while they remained in the hospital room, even though they slept during part of that time. Their concern made it difficult for him to help Human-Male, but Scientist-Farmer waited patiently, allowing six of his brains to rest while he attended to the healing with the seventh.
He felt a slight twinge of guilt at his interference; it was prohibited to use Consortium resources irresponsibly, and medicating an animal on a harvest planet was certainly that. However, Scientist-Farmer no longer considered Human-Male – or, by association, any of the humans – to be animals. He had already determined to his own satisfaction the species was sapient; however, he was pleased his discussion with Researcher-Xenohistorian confirmed his judgment.
Scientist-Farmer allowed his seventh brain to rest, automatically removing the corporeal form the use of the machines required him to wear. Without the tri-pedal body, Scientist-Farmer floated free, his minds once again joining with the ether of the universes while his insubstantial essence, glowing softly in colors of blue, green, yellow and those beyond the human frame of reference, floated peacefully in the laboratory aboard the third ship. Human-Male might have lived even if he didn't interfere, but that was not a certainty. Scientist-Farmer disliked uncertainties.
January 6.
Mike
Kari and Jenn were back the next morning. Mike’s fever was completely gone, and his eyes were clear and alert. He felt significantly better, except for a bone-deep weariness and a slight annoyance at the parade of incredulous doctors and nurses that kept coming into his room to prod, poke, and take more blood.
“You should eat,” Kari said softly, a coaxing smile on her face.
Mike shook his head, the motion barely perceptible. “Not ready yet.”
“Can I have your cookies then?” Jenn asked quickly. Mike nodded, his mouth twitching, and Jenn immediately grabbed the cookies from the hospital tray and went back to where she’d been sitting on the floor. Mike’s eyes followed her. She’d apparently moved in; her Barbies and all of their accoutrements were spread all over the corner of the hospital room, a miniature fashion display to rival the best of haute couture in gay Paree.
“The kids?” Mike asked, his attention returning to Kari.
“They’re all good,” Kari said softly. “They were cold and hungry, but that’s it. No injuries, no frostbite.”
“Two deaths,” Mike said quietly.
Kari nodded, not commenting. There was nothing she could say. “There’s a temporary daycare center here, and the kids are there for now, with the Knox kids who survived. There are still a lot of people unaccounted for.”
“Your father?” Mike asked carefully.
Kari grinned, and Mike smiled at her relief. “Alive, overworked, and grumpy as usual,” she announced.
“Who you callin’ grumpy?” asked a decidedly grumpy voice from the hallway. Kari jumped slightly, a mischievously guilty smirk spreading over her face. Mike looked to the door and saw a tall, lean soldier with white hair and Kari’s eyes step into his room.
“Hi, Daddy,” Kari said with a pleased smile, standing as the soldier approached Mike’s bed. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He smiled at her for a moment, and then looked at Mike, extending his hand.
“How are you feeling, son?” he asked.
Mike shook hands with Kari’s father. “I’m fine, sir,” he said. “Ready to get out of this bed.”
The soldier laughed and that’s when Mike noticed the small square patch with the silver eagle, almost hidden in the camouflage pattern of the man's ACUs. Mike’s eyes widened. He didn’t know most Army rank designations, but even he recognized a colonel's eagle! He shot a quick glance at Kari. She’d never mentioned her father was a high-ranking officer. On the other hand, he’d never asked, either.
“I think it’s going to be a couple days on that,” Kari’s father replied. “The medics here still don’t believe that infection’s cleared up, and they’re insisting you stay for observation. I think you have them puzzled, Iron Mike.”
Mike flushed, and shot Kari a quick glare. “It’s just Mike, sir,” he said quickly. “Ryan Michael Sanderlin.”
“Some nicknames take on a life of their own, Mike. I’m Dick Kasoniak to my face, the Old Bear behind my back, and god-only-knows-what out of my range of hearing. I just stopped by to thank you for bringing my daughter and those children here safely.”
Mike looked away, staring at Jenn who was pretending not to listen. “Not all of them, sir,” he said softly.
Kasoniak nodded grimly. “Kari told me.” He waited a moment before lowering his voice an octave, apparently not realizing Jennifer had bat ears when she wasn’t supposed to hear something. “Yesterday afternoon, a nineteen-year-old private was on patrol at the training range. He saw one of those slugs you guys have named Feeders, and he went to investigate. You know what happened next. Within ten minutes of his squad leader calling it in, the whole goddamned post was out there on the range trying to get that soldier free. We used everything from chain saws to a crane to try to get him out. They worked for forty minutes, and he was buried up to his neck, screaming and … well. Anyway, I was getting ready to shoot him myself when the damned thing finally pulled him under.”
Mike nodded, still unable to look at the colonel.
“We killed it, Mike.”
Mike looked up sharply, his eyes haunted. “How, sir?” he asked hoarsely.
“Napalm,” Kasoniak replied bitterly. “It took napalm, son. There was nothing you could have done to help those boys.”
Part Two: Resistance
Three Months Later
March 14.
New Fort Knox (NFK), Kentucky
Mike
Mike took a cautious sip of the bilge water Ricochet considered coffee and set the cup down. He would wait until after the meeting to grab a bottle of water. Kershaw grinned at him as if in silent agreement, holding her own bottle of water out to him in offering.
“Nah, but thanks, Sarge,” he said easily.
Mike had changed in the past three months. He was leaner and meaner, harder in mind and body. Both the ponytail and his childhood were gone, as though they’d never been. He knew how to deploy the necessary weaponry, and he knew how to defend himself in hand-to-hand combat. He had saved lives, and he had taken lives. Of all the things in his life he’d never expected to be, “soldier” probably topped the list. There wasn't much choice, though. The U.S. Resistance Force needed every able-bodied person it could get and they were accepting soldiers of both genders as young as sixteen. The Resistance and the National Guard were the only American armies standing.
He and Kari had a good thing going, even if she did occasionally rip his balls. He’d just received his promotion to corporal – before she did! – and Jennifer was doing great. Not only did she excel in her classes, but every day after school, she helped tear down
buildings and haul salvageable materials over to the work crews in New Fort Knox. Mom and Gran would have been so proud of her. It was the middle of a war, and Mike, Kari, and Jennifer had found their places.
“Atten –”
“At ease,” Colonel Kasoniak preempted. Mike adjusted his chair with the others who started to rise and looked at the Old Bear. The colonel’s aide immediately set up the whiteboard behind him, and a couple of grunts brought in several boxes on a hand truck and left one box at each soldier’s chair before withdrawing from the conference room and closing the doors behind them.
Kasoniak started the meeting immediately. He was in a good mood, and optimistic. It was nice to have some good mojo for a change. “Ladies and gentlemen, in the boxes behind your seats you will each find ten hand-held radio units. These are the new long-range audio-visual units that are going to put the U.S. military back into the communications game. You’ll notice when you pick one up that it’s heavy and awkward, like a goddamned cell phone from the 80’s. That’s because it is a goddamned cell phone from the 80’s, only it’s been completely gutted and reworked to hold a communication network more reliable than the internet and more complex than a gnat’s ass.
"They use tritium isotope batteries, folks. That alternative energy source has a twelve year half-life, and these radios will be the eyes and ears of the USRF for at least that long. Do not ask me how the hell they work, because I have no idea. As I heard it, some of the survivors from Google came up with these toys, and they were nice enough to share them with Homeland Security. It’s their product, and they brought the technology to us. Homeland sat on it for over a month, but the important thing is we have them now, and we need to distribute them in the field ASAP. In front of you are your mission objectives and briefings. Review them, and see me before 1800 with questions.”
Iron Mike Page 12
