"Well," Heek said thoughtfully, "much as you might doubt it at times, we do read your reports. And the more interesting stuff is sent on to the Council."
Heek signaled amusement. "What did you expect? Mysterious ships, green blobs, and geek revolts. Things like that are bound to attract some attention."
It had been Teex's experience that the Council was a lot less efficient than Heek made them out to be. He'd seen some major peccadilloes slip by them undetected. This, however, was no time to bring it up.
Ceeq feigned indifference. "If they read my report, then they know as much as I do. An alien ship dropped hyper, attacked my squadron, and disappeared. Presumably into hyperspace. I lost some ships, but given the geek's armament, there was little I could do."
Heek nodded agreeably, popped the last bit of game hen into his mouth, and burped politely. "Yes, Quarter Sept Commander Ceeq, the facts seem clear enough. It's your judgment that they question."
Ceeq choked on a bite of salad. He felt dizzy. To have his judgment called into question, and to have it done in front of Teex, was worse than anything he had ever imagined. The sense of shame was overwhelming. "What? What did I do wrong?"
Teex kept his eyes on the food in front of him, embarrassed for the other officer, and knowing that he would be next.
Heek regarded Ceeq with a level gaze. "The Council members want to know why you opened fire on the alien ship without any sort of provocation."
A jumble of thoughts crowded Ceeq's mind. He took refuge in the one thing that might save him. His general orders.
"We ordered the ship to stop in all the standard languages. We fired warning shots. It kept on coming. My orders give me permission to fire in a situation like that."
"Yes," Heek said, helping himself to some of the game hen that Teex had pushed away, "your orders give you permission to fire. They don't require that you fire. And that is where the question of judgment comes in. Did those aboard the alien vessel have the means to recognize the languages you used? Did they understand the symbology of a warning shot? Or did they see it as an unprovoked attack? We may never know. And neither will those who died aboard the Rock of Imantha. The alien vessel was an opportunity to learn. An opportunity missed."
Ceeq stared straight down at his plate. His tail signaled shame.
Heek jabbed his knife at Teex. "And now it is your turn. In spite of some earlier attacks on our troopers, you allowed the geeks to congregate in some sort of heathen temple, and were taken by surprise when they attacked."
Teex made no response. He too hung his head in shame.
Heek shook his head in amazement. "You drop out of a clear blue sky, enslave everyone in sight, and it never occurs to you that the geeks might attack."
The Half Sept commander's statement was far from fair. It ignored the fact that Teex was attempting to hold an entire planet with a fraction of the troops required to do the job.
But Teex knew better than to debate it. Besides, the underlying point was true enough. A fact that made Teex squirm in his seat.
"So," Heek continued calmly, "we are going to talk. And then, when the talking is over, you are going to act. In a competent, orderly, and cooperative way. Is that clear?"
The younger officers looked at Heek but avoided each other's eyes. They signaled respectful-assent and picked at their food.
"Good," Heek said mildly. "Now, give me the latest. Teex, you first."
Teex tried to gather his thoughts. It was hard to do in the wake of the worst ass chewing he'd experienced in many years. Still, he had some new information, and that might help. He dabbed at his lips with his corner of the triangular tablecloth.
"Well, there have been some interesting developments. When the geeks gathered in their so-called temple they placed plastic disks on their foreheads. And while the disks seemed innocuous enough, I had them submitted for analysis."
Heek signaled interest with his tail and Ceeq frowned. Was Teex about to roll the rock off something new? Something that would leave him sitting in the hot seat all by himself?
"The first thing we learned," Teex continued, "was that the disks can receive electronic signals, and route those signals to a part of the brain where they can be 'heard' as words."
"Why that is incredible!" Heek said enthusiastically. "Just the sort of thing we are looking for! A few finds like that and the Council will authorize the additional troops you need."
Teex allowed himself a small smile. So far so good. "Yes, sir. We were quite excited. But there is more as well. The techies believe that it would take a rather sophisticated computer to make the disks work. A computer that could still be operational."
"Even better!" Heek proclaimed enthusiastically. "I can hear the vidcasts now. 'The Sand Sept does it again! Valuable artifacts found on a distant planet!'"
Ceeq felt his frown slip into a scowl of disapproval and forced it off his face. Heek's bias was incredibly obvious.
Teex allowed his smile to grow a tiny bit larger. "Exactly. And we now know even more. We know the computer is operational and that the disks can function as miniature listening devices."
"And how do you know that?" Ceeq inquired, suspicious and looking for some sort of weakness.
Teex took a small sip of wine. This part would be critical. The challenge was to take the disastrous ambush, turn it into little more than an unfortunate mishap, and screw Ceeq at the same time.
"Well, you remember how one of the green blobs went dirtside?"
Ceeq felt annoyed. The blob? What was this? Some sort of clumsy attempt to reopen a recently closed wound? His tail slipped from respectful-attention to wary-attention. "Yes?"
"And you remember how your aerospace fighters bombed the site where it touched down?"
Ceeq felt suspicious, felt himself being drawn into some sort of trap, and was helpless to avoid it. "Yes?"
"And you remember how you requested that I send an insertion team to take a look?"
Ceeq's voice was little more than a growl. "Yes, I remember. Hurry up and get to the point."
Heek nodded irritably. "Yes, Teex. Get to the point."
Teex nodded carefully. "Right. Well, the point is that when I gave the orders to put an insertion team into the site there was a disk lying on the desk in front of me. And when the team arrived at what was left of the geek village, they walked right into a well-planned ambush."
Ceeq felt himself relax. Another ground pounder screw up! What could be better?
Heek leaned forward. His tail signaled concern. "An ambush? You mean to say that this mysterious computer monitored your orders via the disk, planned an ambush, and told the geeks to carry it out?"
Teex signaled uncertainty. "I think the computer had a role. I think it told the geeks we were coming. But the humans might have planned the ambush."
"Humans?" Heek's tail came to attention. "What humans?"
Teex smiled and looked Ceeq right in the eye. He wanted the naval officer to see it coming. "Why, the humans that were deposited on the surface of the planet by that mysterious green blob. File Leader Reeg tells me that they led the ambush."
Ceeq felt the blade go in, felt it turn between his ribs, and prayed for a level of objectivity that didn't exist. Heek swiveled his way.
"So," the senior officer said slowly, "you attacked the ship without provocation, lost the ensuing battle, and allowed a party of humans to land. Nice work."
Ceeq swallowed the words that boiled up from deep inside, turned toward his tormentor, and found Teex eating his dessert. And if the Sand Sept officer's expression was any clue, the dish was sweet indeed.
13
Rola-4's world came apart with unexpected suddenness.
She was working in her kitchen, kneading dough for the midday meal, when the shouting began. It was incoherent at first, like that of the almost grown, so she ignored it.
The youngsters got unruly at times but the males would sort them out. A good cuff behind the ear would send them packing! Rola-4 smiled at the
thought.
Five years earlier she had been part of such a group, following Neder-32 the way a trailer follows a tractor, until he had finally noticed her and posted his vows in the village square.
Ah, those were the days! All mischief and fun.
"Gaaa?"
Rola-4 turned toward the center of the room. She brushed an insect off her forehead with the back of her hand. It left a white smudge on her lavender skin. Neder-33 was a chunky little thing, and like most two-year-olds into everything. He wore nothing but a diaper and sat right in the middle of some well-worn toys. Neder-33 held the disk up for her inspection. "Gaaa?"
Rola-4 laughed. "No, not 'gaaa.' Say 'disk.'"
"Gaaa."
Rola-4 smiled as she accepted the disk. "You are hopeless. Just like your father. He is the one who forgets to take these off and brings them home. Where did you get this anyway?"
Neder-33 pointed a stubby finger at the floor. "Fla."
Rola-4 nodded agreeably. "Floor. You got it from the floor."
Like all married females Rola-4 wore a pouch around her neck. It contained the single earring her husband had given her on their wedding day, the name tag issued to the first Rola-4 during the time of the ancients, and a lucky stone she had found as a young female. She fished the pouch out from under her dress, slipped the disk inside, and made a note to return it. God might need it.
The shouting was louder now. Rola-4 heard a cracking noise followed by a loud scream. She grabbed Neder-33 and was halfway to the back door when it crashed inward. A rectangle of bright sunlight hit the opposite wall. It disappeared as the alien stepped in to block it. He wore a helmet, armor, and a lot of equipment. His weapon was aimed at her chest. The voice had a hollow artificial sound.
"Make no attempt to escape. Go to the front door. Step outside and join the others."
"Neder-32." Her lips shaped his name but the sound refused to come. Rola-4 backed away, turning to put the bulk of her body between the alien and her child, trying to think. Why, oh, why did the thoughts come so slowly? Was there something she could do? Something she had missed?
The front door opened before she reached it. Another alien appeared. He gestured with his weapon. "Hurry up, geek."
"Geek?" Rola-4 asked herself. What did that mean?
A gun barrel jabbed her in the back. "Move it."
Rola-4 walked toward the square. Others were herded out to join her. Myla-6, Tusy-35, Armo-9, and many more. Males, females, and children. All were herded toward the main square.
Rola-4's head swiveled left and right. Neder-32. Where was he? Surely he had heard all the commotion. Neder-33 began to cry softly. She hugged him to her breast.
And then she saw them up ahead. Three blood-soaked bodies laid out side by side in the village square. A light and two heavies. There were only two lights in the entire village. The doctor, Bura-21, and her husband, Zeb-3. Both were somewhat snooty but neither deserved to die. The body belonged to Bura-21. Rola-4 recognized her dress. But the others. Who were the others?
Rola-4 pushed her way forward. A Sand Sept trooper moved to intercept her and she gave him a shove. He stumbled backward, caught himself, and swung his weapon in her direction.
Another alien said something in a language Rola-4 had never heard before and the first trooper left her alone.
She knelt by her husband and was struck by how empty his eyes were. Where had he gone? The part of him that gleamed and flashed? There was no way to tell.
Neder-33 saw his father and cried even louder. Rola-4 stood and backed away. Neder-32 was dead. Her son. She must protect her son.
The villagers were herded into a tightly packed group. An alien climbed on top of a boxy-looking ground vehicle. He held up a hand for silence. The polite phraseology seemed out of place with the circumstances.
"Your attention please. We are looking for a machine. A complicated machine that can think and talk. It communicates via disks like this one."
The Il Ronnian held up a disk. It flashed in the sun.
Rola-4 watched in wonderment. God. The aliens were looking for God. How strange, she thought. Everyone knows where God is. He is everywhere and nowhere at all.
The Sand Sept trooper scanned the crowd. "Tell us where the machine is and we will turn you loose."
An elderly woman stepped forward. Her name was Elra-10. Her skin had faded white and hung loosely about her body. She looked the alien in the eye.
"Even our children know that God is everywhere and nowhere at all. There. You have your answer. Release us now."
The Sand Sept trooper drew his side arm, aimed it at Elra-10's chest, and shot her. She slumped to the ground. One of the males, her grandson, growled and threw himself at the Il Ronnian. The soldier smiled, waited for him to get even closer, and blew the top of his head off.
No one moved. No one spoke. No one breathed.
The alien made a movement with his tail. He gestured toward the bodies. "They were stupid. But so are you. I will spell it out. When I ask a reasonable question I expect a reasonable response. Not some contradictory gibberish. Understood? Good. Now, I will ask the question one more time. Where is the machine that you refer to as 'God'?"
Silence.
The alien waited for a moment, then motioned to the other troopers. "Take them away. Send for the engineers. If the machine is here they will find it."
The Sand Sept trooper nearest Rola-4 made a jabbing motion with his weapon. His voice boomed out of the box that hung round his neck. "Move."
Rola-4 obeyed. One step. Then two. Eventually followed by thousands more. The heavies followed the winding streets down from the hill to the valley below.
The crops made neat geometric patterns. Lakes of sunlight came and went. Cloud-shaped shadows drifted across the land.
Few if any of the heavies noticed. Why had the Lords placed all the villages on hilltops anyway? For defense? To provide the heavies with a nice view? To conserve the productive crop land below? None knew or had ever cared to ask.
The moment they hit the highway a trooper directed them toward the north. The agricultural road wound its way through the valley like a carefully placed ribbon, crossed the slow-moving river at least a dozen times, and disappeared toward the mountains beyond.
The road was empty most of the time, a holdover from the days in which the Lords had traveled the surface of the planet in fast ground cars, and pleasured themselves at country villas. It still found use during harvest time, when the lights sent huge haulers to collect the crops, but those days were still ahead.
The villagers were alone at first. A hundred thirty-nine confused individuals putting one foot in front of the other and trying to adjust.
But it didn't take long for others to join them. Groups of dull-eyed heavies, dressed in a wild assortment of clothes, plodding toward a destination that none of them understood.
It felt strange to walk past the fields they should be tending. What about the crops? Who would take care of them? What would the winter bring? Thanks to God, and his providence, the heavies had never gone hungry. But they knew that such a thing was possible and worried about it.
Time passed. Rola-4 wore a pair of heavy sandals but others weren't so lucky. The light house slippers worn by some were soon shredded, leaving them in bare feet. Feet that started to bleed.
Complaints were made and answered with rifle butts. Some of the most elderly villagers fell by the wayside and were shot. Bit by bit, hour by hour, the reality of it sank in. Survival meant complete and unquestioning obedience.
Afternoon came and more villagers joined the march, and more still, until their feet made muted thunder and they jammed the road shoulder to shoulder.
The guards were outnumbered hundreds to one by now. They rode in armored vehicles and stayed well away from the crowd.
Four air cars appeared from the north. They made a whining noise as they passed over the crowd and the air displaced by their delta-shaped bodies tugged at Rola-4's skirt.
; A voice was heard. It belonged to Sixteenth Commander Teep. A less than promising officer who had been passed over for promotion on three different occasions.
Or, as his commanding officer had written in his personal journal, "The geeks are rather stupid, and so is Teep, so they suit each other well."
Teep watched the mob slip by below him. He was big, rangy, and far too old for his rank. He spoke into the translator. The noise that came out sounded like incomprehensible gibberish. "Stop. Turn toward the west. Stop. Turn toward the west."
Slowly, like a train that must lose momentum in order to stop, the prisoners did as they were told. As luck would have it Rola-4 was only two or three ranks back from the western edge of the crowd. She had an almost unobstructed view of what ensued.
The granary was an old tumble-down structure that had been built to accommodate an unexpectedly bountiful harvest and then abandoned. The moment that the prisoners came to a complete standstill, and were turned in the proper direction, the air cars converged over the granary.
Rola-4 could see the tiny figures as they swung the pintle-mounted weapons toward the structure and opened fire. Blue light burped downward and the wooden building erupted into flame.
A murmur ran through the crowd. The heavies shifted from one foot to another. The Lords had designed their servants well, and in spite of their long absence, they still ruled through desires and instincts put in place thousands of years before.
The same set of words floated up to fill each heavy's mind. "It is your purpose to grow, harvest, build, conserve, and to protect."
Those words, and the almost overwhelming emotions that went with them, were more than some of the heavies could stand. They felt a strong desire to do something and do it now.
Some lights tried to intervene but were pushed aside.
A scattering of heavies ran toward the fire. They were determined to reach the granary and put out the flames.
Not knowing their intention, and determined to give them a lesson, Teep ordered his troopers to fire.
Drifter's War Page 13
