by Chris Hechtl
“What else do you need?”
“Ah, see, there is the hook,” Chuck murmured. His wife shushed him with an elbow to the ribs however.
“Well, we could use some medical supplies,” Harambe said slowly.
“Can do. I can also throw in some MREs. I can't supply you with munitions or weapons; it's against the law at this time. We can work something out over time however. One step at a time,” the colonel said.
“Understood. I can arrange a pick-up point.”
“You can also bring injured to a landing zone, and we can pick them up and treat them. They can then be returned to you,” the colonel offered. When Harambe didn't answer, she cleared her throat. “Too soon? Fine. But just keep it in mind,” she said.
“Thank you,” the Neogorilla said with a nod. “I will.”
<)>^<)>/
The transmission was picked up by Lieutenant Lishman. General Drier had passed on frequencies to listen t. They'd just so happen to have stopped, and Adkins had turned the radio on while they ate lunch and heard a good chunk of the conversation.
The lieutenant wasn't the only one who grimaced at the news or its implications. There were several points that bothered him. He briefly considered masquerading as a militia unit as well in order to get support from the enemy but then decide not to get cute.
“You heard that part about the refugees?” Sergeant Adkins asked, eying him.
“I don't like that we might have missed the bastard. We need to make a clean sweep of it,” the lieutenant growled.
“Yes, sir. Should we alert higher?”
“No, not with them saturating the area. And we're near where this Harambe is. We need to play it cool. Keep your ears pealed.”
“Yes, sir.”
<)>^<)>/
Colonel Harley and her intelligence officers considered what had happened on the planet.
“We're still getting a take. It's nearly impossible to get an accurate census though, especially with people still trickling in from the fields, farms, and mountains. There are reports of many more in hiding,” Lieutenant Liu, her ONI spook reported.
The Asian human seemed rather put out that he couldn't get a definitive number. Dana knew it was all a work on progress.
“By our latest estimates, we've pegged it at nearly forty million dead,” Major Zedeal said, picking up the narrative. “Some of them were attributed to the roving death squads, some by exposure during the winter. Many, all too many, went to the gas chambers and slave camps. The Horathians did their best to destroy the evidence too, so there is no way to tell the real final numbers. I doubt we'll ever know.”
“I know its crude, but the good thing about Neos is that their populations can bounce back fast. Well, some of them,” Lieutenant Liu said.
Dana glared at him. After a long moment, her nostrils dilated as she inhaled and then seemed to exhale most of her ire. “Yes, that is inappropriate. But it is a small silver lining,” the colonel replied. “We need Debois or someone like him. We need to get the natives organized. Their economy is in shambles. Transport sucks. Local law enforcement is out the door. They aren't planning or looking to the future, no coordination between communities, its barter and an inflationary market. Their medical and training is nonexistent. We need to get them looking after themselves not to us for handouts.”
“Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you feed him for life, ma'am?” Major Zedeal asked.
Dana grimaced but nodded. “Exactly. They were doing fine before the Horathians came. With us to clean the pirates out and give them a leg up, they will be able to get back to that I hope. They'll have scars, but they are learning experiences.”
“Yes, ma'am. We've got to root out the pirates first before we can see the wounds healing though.”
“True.”
Chapter 43
Things were slowly returning to normal in Fallbrook. Ole Buck had stepped up as temporary Mayor, though Judith and her sister had to step in and firmly stomped on his attempts to run himself into what they called an early grave. The old man kept muttering about the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak as people grinned behind his back.
Isabel could believe it. At least the activity was good for him; it seemed to sharpen his mind, make him feel like he had a purpose again.
For the moment, they didn't have a town sheriff, clerk, or many of the old positions. Old Buck kept making noises about the long-term economy and repairs to the town. Now that things were picking up, she agreed with him. She wasn't flush with cash, but at least, she could cover her bills.
The first sighting of the Marines had worn off into the sightings of a friend. Everyone in town was glad to see them, and their steady presence was one reason the townsfolk weren't in any tearing hurry to hire a new sheriff or rebuild the town jail.
The townsfolk went back to their usual gossip. They were amused that the Marines mostly kept to themselves and their temporary base. They disdained the Essen Inn much to the Essen's distaste and the town's amusement. They also didn't use the restaurants, though they did minor trade with a few of the businesses. Most of it was light. The Marines also insisted on paying for whatever they purchased.
It was a nice change from the previous invaders.
The old jurist insisted on weekly town meetings. He tried to get a town council set up, but that didn't fly. Everyone was too busy and too insistent that he was doing a fine job. There were too many personalities, and those who wanted the job, like the Essens, had trust issues with the population. Many saw them as traitors who had helped the Horathians. Those ill feelings were hard to get over so quickly.
The Marines always sent a representative to the town hall meetings, but the Marine only addressed certain specific issues, usually those related to the war front. The answers were vague.
Old Buck wasn't just about talking about local economics either, Isabel mused. And he wasn't just talking about trade between the Smith farms or the other towns and cities nearby. No, he had his eyes on the entire world, which seemed a tad ambitious for her tastes.
But, when she thought about it in the evenings or when he made a particular point about membership in the Federation, she realized he had a point. Destria had only certain things to trade with—maple syrup, leather, leather-crafted furniture and goods, some nonperishable food items, luxury goods, some metals, some pharmaceuticals—but not a lot. Sometimes it barely covered what the freighters traded for it. They knew that over the centuries most of it had been traded to Pyrax through the occasional tramp freighters that came by.
Al, a few of the bakers and restaurants and even herself had a few concerns when they got word of Federation replicators being offered in trade or to help rebuild. Personally, she was not sure if they were needed and what it would do to their planet. Nothing good considering they would put a lot of people out of a job.
As they talked about that and other subjects, some of the long-missing Neos, aliens, and chimeras who had survived returned to town. Tessa was one of those people who returned as did Flo and her babies. Isabel took them on into her house when Flo couldn't find a way to rebuild her own house.
With them came others. Without the yoke of the oppressor over their head, some of the businesses reopened. A few opened under new management. The print shop reopened as did the town's bike shop. Tessa got a job with the bike shop. It had a side business with the machinists, the cart wright, and even a small glider business. The arrival of the Marines sparked a renewed interest in flight and aircraft. Old Buck had to table discussions of opening an airport several times. “Wait till the spring is over, people. And heaven's sake, don't tell the farmers you want to take their land to do it!” he kept telling people.
That got most people to shut up. They didn't need or want a feud with the people who brought them their food.
The spring thaw opened up the river, which in turn signaled that the mills were back in production. Here and there men and women went to work. A few went back to t
he fuel plant as well. Native fuel was made from veggie oil pressed from various plants. It had a multitude of uses other than just fuel for heating or vehicles. Among other things, the oil was also used for fried foods and some cooking.
The Marines were kind enough to add an electrical pump and filtration system to the town's water supply. They added solar panels to power them, plus a hydroelectric system in the fast-moving river and a wind generator. They also provided surplus electricity to the public buildings. Their medic was kept busy treating people day and night. The medic, a human petty officer named Elliot Sanchez, made it clear his work was only temporary. He went where his unit went.
That sparked talk at Al's and in the pub about hiring a doctor and nurse or sending some of the kids to a doctor to learn or to college if there was one still open.
When Flo got a job and started to save to rebuild her home, Isabel realized things were really looking up. That was just before she realized she'd have to help out a bit with day care of Flo's brat pack.
<)>^<)>/
“Get to Fallbrook. Get us more supplies. Bring us some of our stuff back. What am I a pack mule? I'm a small Neocat! I can't carry a damn anvil!” the black Neocat said with a shake of her head as she bound through the forest. “They are gorillas, but will they do it? Hell no! Send the cat!” she grumbled as she continued to move at a steady pace.
She stopped when she scented a familiar trail, however. Someone had been by recently she thought as she lifted her head and smelled the scent. The air was humid and heavy so stuff was sticky. She moved through the brush slowly and then sat, wrapping her tail around her feet and going into her cloak as she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she moved her head slowly through the other side of the bushes to see the expected farmhouse and grounds beyond the pastures and rows of crops. There was smoke coming from the chimney, a clear sign someone was home.
“Well, maybe they can help,” she murmured softly.
<)>^<)>/
Jean Claude's people came up the drive to see a black Neocat talking with Jon Smith. Heads turned to look at them. The cat's ears went back. She hissed at them.
“Peace,” Wade said, pointing to himself and his brother. He had his hands out. “We're not here to hurt anyone. We've got injured here,” he said.
The cat rumbled warily, then turned to Jon. “They sent me to get that food, Jon.”
“I know that,” Jon said as he waved Vanessa out. She looked over to the refugees and went over to them with Kevin and Gretchen in her wake. “If you hadn't noticed, I've got a lot more mouths to feed as of late,” he drawled, waving to the hands in the fields and her own brood. “And if you also didn't notice, it's spring. Planting has just begun. We don't have a big surplus. What we've got, we've got to stretch or use to trade. You want more, tell Chuck to get off the damn mountain, come down and get back to work! Him and Freya!” he said waving a hand. “I can't be mending tools and things in the forge while also trying to run three farms!”
“Okay, okay,” Kiki said as Jean Claude and Wade came over to them. She looked up at them. “What are you two looking at?” she demanded. She wrinkled her nose. “You two need a bath,” she said, covering her nose and shying away.
“Sorry,” Jean Claude said. He was near the end of his rope. “We got ambushed by the invaders …”
“The first group or second?” Kiki demanded, eying him.
“The first. You said you knew Harambe? Sorry for interrupting, but I heard his name and wanted to talk. He's a friend and …”
“I don't see how he could be a friend of you,” the cat spat.
“Who … you are familiar,” Jon said.
“It's been a long time, Jon,” Jean Claude said. He nodded to Kadir. “I'm afraid Kadir's wagons are gone.”
Jon frowned as he parsed that out as he looked on to Vanessa and the kids tending to the family and the horse. Kevin took the horse by the reins and walked her to the barn slowly. The horse looked like the humans, about done in.
He finally peered at Jean Claude. “I do know you,” he said slowly. “I remember you with a long mustache though,” he said.
“Jean did have a long mustache,” Wade said with a shrug. “I made him shave it,” he said as all eyes turned to him. The eyes went back to Jean.
“Jean … Jean Debois?” Jon asked, eyes wide. Kiki's eyes went wide as well. “The voice of the resistance on the radio Debois?”
“That's me for my sins. The bounty on my head is most likely why I brought hell down on these folks,” Jean Claude said as he indicated the Oberon family and other refugees with a sweep of his hand. “We're in need of your charity. I promise I will find a way to compensate you in the future.”
“Not a problem,” Jon said gruffly as he looked on to his wife. She was carrying one of the kids while leading the others and Kadir and his wife into the house. “As you can see, Vanessa's already made up her mind. She and Kadir and the wagon train go way back. You are all welcome here,” he said motioning to the house. “We've only got the one tub, but you can use the water bucket there to wash off some of the road grime. We'll see about getting you fed and sorted in a moment,” he said as Alvin showed up at his side.
“Mom said …”
“To take them on, I get that,” Jon said gruffly. He looked at a surprised Wade, Kiki, and Jean. “I've learned the hard way never to argue with that woman,” he said dryly. That earned a brief smile from the trio and an ear flick from Kiki. “Okay, we'll put you all up. I've even got a radio if you want to call in.”
“If you please, that'd be nice. I have to warn you that we're being hunted though,” Jean said.
“If you make it clear you'll be gone as soon as you finish transmitting, they won't know where to go. There is a crossroad in either direction,” Jon said by way of dismissal. And Fallbrook is a couple kilometers down the road besides. So, no worries.”
“Thank you,” Jean Claude murmured. He nodded to the boy. “Lead on,” he said. “I've got a son about your age,” he said as Alvin looked up to him.
“More mouths to feed?” Kiki asked as she looked on at Jon.
The farmer snorted. “You know we don't turn away people on the run. They'll be here a night and gone to Fallbrook in the morning,” he said just as they heard a distant rumble of thunder. He looked up to the sky. There were clouds, but the hammerhead shaped ones on the horizon bode ill. “Or not,” he muttered. “I guess we'll be setting one more plate at the table,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Like Vanessa or the kids are going to want you out in this,” Jon said with a shake of his head. “You'd catch your death, and I'd never catch the end of it,” he said.
She sniffed but then smiled at him.
<)>^<)>/
The rain forced them to remain indoors longer than anticipated. The storms hit in a procession, one after another.
The good news was the crops were getting a good soaking. The bad news was, it was a bit much, and Jon fretted that the drainage ditches wouldn't be able to handle the excess water. He went out twice to make sure they were clear of debris. After the second time nearly falling in and getting scolded by Vanessa for “nearly catching his death with pneumonia,” he was forced to admit he had to wait on Mother Nature to finish her tantrum before he could make things right.
“Vanessa, you've got that radio?” Jon asked. She nodded. “Vanessa here picked up a radio transmitter, HAM radio, the last time she was in town. If you want to talk to someone, maybe they'll arrange a ride?”
“Well, I'd like to let people know I'm alive,” Jean Claude said with a grimace. “But it's dangerous for you …”
“No one is out there. Not when it's raining cats and dogs,” Vanessa replied with a sniff.
“Hey! I resemble that!” Kiki said from where she was curled up on a windowsill watching the rain.
“Sorry,” Vanessa said as she snorted. Kiki wiggled her nose at her, then went back to watching the rain as Clarissa brushed her coat.
“I
suppose I could get used to this,” the Neocat murmured.
“Hedonist,” Vanessa mocked.
“Damn skippy,” Kiki replied drowsily as she stretched out an arm and began to doze.
<)>^<)>/
Near nightfall Jean Claude gave in and put the call in. “I'm looking for Major Zedeal or Colonel Harley,” he said tentatively into the microphone.
He tried several times before he got a response. The testy response was for him to try a different channel.
He tried a few more channels. “I think this is a waste of time.”
<)>^<)>/
Bordou heard the radio requests. His ears perked. “Now where have I heard that voice before?” he demanded. Finally, when it came to him his eyes went wide. He snapped his fingers to a kid nearby. “Go get Harambe. Hurry up. Tell him it's urgent. Tell him Debois is alive!”
The kid took off at a run.
<)>^<)>/
“Sir, um, ma'am, sirs,” Ensign Summers said, interrupting a conference between the senior officers and those on General Murtough. “We're getting radio requests to talk to Major Zedeal or Colonel Harley by name. We've run a voice print, and it matches Mister Debois,” she said. “It's coming from a few kilometers outside Fallbrook. That coincides with his last known location.”
Dana blinked. “You're certain of this Ensign?”
“It's a 98 percent match, ma'am.”
“Okay, put him on,” the colonel ordered.
“This is General Murtough to unknown caller. You have our attention,” the ensign said as she patched into the HAM radio transmission through the Fallbrook radio communications tower the Marines had set up.
“Um, I thought Colonel Harley was in charge?” the voice asked. There was a squelch of static before the computer filtered it out.
“Must be a really old set,” Lieutenant Liu murmured. The colonel motioned for him to shush.
“General Murtough is a ship in orbit. You are patched in to the colonel and the major. Who may I ask is calling?” the ensign said. She caught sight of the colonel and major frantically shaking their heads no. “Um … you know, um, never mind that last part …”
