by Darrell Bain
* * * *
Lyda's broken rib and wounded thigh healed so rapidly, she was able to assist with the hunting and fishing again within a few days. Hunting provided only enough meat for marginal survival. They made up the rest of their food supply from the sea. They had discovered that fishing was best at high tide—at least the high tide the small moon was capable of causing—and that the improvised nets provided almost all of the curious two-tailed fish. For some unknown reason, they refused to take a baited hook.
Even fishing had its risks. There was one denizen of the ocean, more mammalian in appearance than anything else, that was always ready to carry off an unwary fisherman or bather. It never struck when large groups were together, which had quickly made mixed bathing the norm, rather than the exception. The stream was used for hand and face washing and to rinse out clothing, but it was cold and the ocean was where most people bathed. The water was less salty than the oceans of earth and very warm.
Lyda was with the throng of people who liked their baths in the morning when the first expedition returned two days early. She saw Jenny's unmistakable form coming along the beach from a long way off—and there was only one person with her. That bodes ill, Lyda thought.
She hurried out of the sea and into her worn clothing before the others noticed the approaching couple. She wanted to get to them first before they told their stories to the whole gathering; not to conceal any bad news, but in order to decide how to handle it before the general meeting she knew she would have to call early. Lyda ran along the beach toward Jenny on calloused feet. The makeshift coverings she used for shoes had to be saved for hunting.
Jenny heard her quick footsteps in the sand and looked up.
As Lyda neared, she observed that Jenny's face was haggard. She was limping and favoring one side of her body. The spear she carried was crude and freshly made, its point not hardened by fire. The woman with her, a South American of almost pure Indian ancestry, still carried the bow she favored but only one arrow remained in her quiver.
“Sit down a moment, you guys, and tell me quickly what happened before the thundering herd arrives."
Jenny didn't smile at Lyda's feeble attempt at humor. She dropped to the ground wearily, as if glad to be off her feet. Consuela sat down beside her. Lyda rested on her knees as she listened. Jenny did the talking, speaking in a monotone.
“There's a big group, much larger than ours, four days walk down the beach. It's led by a man who was a General in the Chinese army. Somehow, he convinced his people that everyone on the planet has to come under his rule in order to survive."
“That's stupid,” Lyda said. “How is he getting them to follow him?"
“The smart ones tried to fight but didn't get far. Right from the first, he began preaching about how events on this planet shouldn't be a repetition of what happened to China and India on earth, back when they were colonized and dominated by Europeans centuries ago. He gained sufficient followers, and quickly enough, to subjugate everyone in his area. Many people who didn't like his ideas left, but a lot more stayed. Now he's organized a ... a goddamned army, of all things, and intends to conquer us all.” Jenny shook her head in disgust. “Wouldn't you think we've had enough of that kind of thinking back on earth?"
Lyda was puzzled. “How did you find all this out? Did he just tell you, or what?"
“Not a bit of it. We ran into one of the patrols he sends out. There were half a dozen of them. I guess they figured three women and one undersized man wouldn't be much of a problem. Right off the bat, they ordered us to come with them. I refused, of course; I could sense they were up to no good.” She stopped talking for a moment and licked her lips. Lyda pulled out her battered water bottle and passed it to her. She began drinking thirstily.
“And that's when the fight started,” Consuela said, eyeing the water bottle.
Jenny passed it to her and wiped her mouth. She grinned wryly. “Yeah. I guess those martial arts classes I took for years finally paid off. And Jeff, bless his little heart, fought like a tiger. We need to remember him and Susan. They made it possible for Consuela and I to kill them and get away."
Lyda thought over what Jenny had said and within seconds, fitted in the missing piece. “You must have captured one of them and got him to talk."
Jenny nodded. “Uh huh, except it was a her. A day or so without water and she spilled her guts. We were tired and hurt, though, and got careless. She tried to escape. Consuela got her with an arrow while she was running back to Mao."
“Mao?"
“Mao Tse Tsung. A revered Chinese leader. The general was named after him and studied his writings. He actually believes he's a reincarnation of Mao."
Lyda couldn't remember anything about Mao Tse Tsung except a vague reference to him in a history lesson. It named him as the leader of a Chinese revolution that started the country on the road toward becoming a world power. She suddenly wished the history book had been more detailed, but maybe someone in the camp would know more about him. For now...
Lyda heard steps behind her and reached out both hands to help the women to their feet. Practically the whole community had come to meet them. A barrage of questions started, but as soon as Jenny and Consuela were upright, Lyda quickly quelled the torrent by holding up both hands. “Folks, we'll advance the date of our general meeting and hold it tonight. Jenny and Consuela will tell their story then. Right now, let's let them eat and rest and have their wounds looked at."
Assuming consent, she waved the throng away, getting some help from Tsing, who came up just then. He had been farther down the beach, searching for shells to use as tools when they came in sight. Raising his eyebrows in question, Tsing didn't speak when Lyda gave him the faintest of nods. They had become so adept at sensing each other's intentions and attitudes that simple gestures were all it took for understanding most of the time.
* * * *
Lyda and Tsing exchanged glances after the evening gathering had been convened. They heard from Jenny first, then Consuela, as they told about their adventures. Lyda let Tsing speak first.
He stood up and took a deep breath, then expelled it in a gesture remarkably like a sigh of resignation. He spoke loudly. “I know of Mao. It happens that I lived for a time in a province in China he controlled, with the blessings of the central government. He is ruthless, honest and well-versed in military tactics and affairs. He has also written articles for military journals and civilian publications, glorifying Chinese achievements and predicting that China and India will become the dominant nations of the future, a future he believed was a mere decade or two away when the aliens arrived.
“He is also a brilliant man, from what I've read about him, though some of it may be propaganda ordered by the media empire he controls—or did control. Whatever, from what I know of him, there's no doubt in my mind that he is bent on ruling this planet and every being on it."
“He also has an army,” Consuela said. “Food appears to be more abundant in his area. They have had time to begin rudimentary training of recruits—although the ones we fought weren't very good yet, or we wouldn't be here telling you about them."
Jenny took over again. “He has lots of soldiers and all the secondary leaders are former military types. Mark my words, he will be coming this way soon, and he brooks no opposition. Everyone in his camp has been forced to take an oath to serve him and the “State", as he calls it. Our captive said he executed all the leaders of two other groups he took over out of hand, no trial or anything, and he's had others killed for trying to leave."
That remark brought on shouts of defiance and expressions of fear, all mixed together. Lyda and Tsing had a problem getting the meeting back under control. Once they did, Lyda scanned their faces, trying to form a gestalt of their emotions, but it wasn't possible yet. There were too many conflicting thoughts and attitudes bouncing around among the participants, gaining momentum then losing it as new stances and feelings emerged. She decided to bring the meeting to a close, but Tsing
spoke first.
“I, for one, will not serve a man like that. Nor, I think, will Miss Brightner."
“I won't join with him, and I'll try to protect anyone else who doesn't—but I won't lie to you; I don't know of anything else to do except try to get away.
“Folks, we need to think this over. In the meanwhile, we'll send patrols out so we won't be taken by surprise. The council will meet right now and we'll all gather again at midmorning tomorrow and decide on a course of action. The hunting parties will be cancelled and added to the fishing crews at high tide. It's at daylight tomorrow. And please, don't despair. We've all lived through catastrophes and upheavals before; we'll make it through this one, too."
* * * *
“You sounded awfully confident, Miss Brightner,” Jenny said after she and Tsing had gathered the council and brought them over to their sleeping area.
“I am confidant that most of us will live through this crisis. I don't know about the kind of life we'll have afterward. Did your captive give you any idea of their numbers?"
Tsing whistled at the figure Jenny mentioned.
“Yeah,” Jenny said sadly. “Not much hope of fighting them off, is there?"
“No,” Lyda admitted. “But I don't feel like submitting to a tyrant, either. Mister Kim?"
“Same here."
“Is there any hope that negotiating would improve matters?"
Tsing shook his head. “No. It's like the old religious wars on earth. Faith or the sword. Submit or die. Mao is obviously a survivor; he's made it this far, same as we have, but I don't see him changing his mindset at all. Chinese hegemony has been his enduring philosophy since childhood, according to his official biography. What Jenny's captive revealed is proof that he's not only sticking to it; he's going beyond simple hegemony. We might be able to live with that, but not under state totalitarianism with routine executions as examples to make the people behave.” Tsing gave a mirthless chuckle. “Not that we'd live long anyway, according to Jenny. As leaders, we'd be the first ones he'd execute."
“What about India? The people from there, I mean? Any chance of getting a rebellion started in the ranks?"
“No. He's smart enough to integrate enough Indians and other non-Chinese into the command structure to give their support legitimacy, but he's far too clever to allow them enough power to be a threat."
“Then it's retreat or fight,” Lyda said. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't want to try leading our people into a war they can't possibly win."
“But where would we go?” Florida asked the question that logically followed Lyda's statement.
“Either the interior, or along the beach in the direction Tom's group headed,” Tsing said. “We need to decide quickly, though. Mao will work fast after his patrol turns up missing, and I suspect he will find the bodies quickly enough to tell they weren't killed by the local fauna. He'll probably deduce that anyway, and if not, footprints along the beach will lead him in this direction.” Tsing's face was as troubled as a groom whose bride hadn't shown up for the wedding. He pounded his fist on his thigh. “He almost certainly has planned on expanding along the beach anyway. He could already have his army on the way!"
Lyda knew that, too. “I don't want us to try the interior unless we have to. And Tom should be on his way back. We'll go along the beach until we run into him and see what his group has turned up, if anything. We'll decide then whether to continue in that direction and try to stay ahead of Mao, or tackle the interior and make for the mountains. There might be a pass we could defend or we might find more people. Is that satisfactory with you all?"
No one else had any better idea of what to do. Lyda suggested they get some rest and prepare to begin packing what they could carry after the morning fishing and general meeting was concluded.
* * * *
Lyda scanned the crowd the next day. Many of them already had their belongings packed into such gear as they still possessed, but she wasn't looking at the preparations for moving; she was trying to see if anyone was missing. Her memory, near perfect now, couldn't find a dozen or more men or women who should have been there. She made no mention of the desertions, nor saw any need to. Anyone who was observant enough would know, and they could figure out as well as she could that the ones who weren't there had gone to join Mao's Regime. She sighed inwardly, though her face remained placid. Dissention appeared to be a facet of human behavior. That wasn't a problem; she knew that different viewpoints were as necessary to the species as the air they breathed. It was dissent that hurt others she had no patience with. And these desertions would hurt. They would give Mao all the information he needed to start an army on the way—if he hadn't given marching orders already. She consulted briefly with Tsing, and they decided to go ahead and lay it out anyway, so that everyone could decide now what they wanted to do. Both of them spoke and answered what questions they could, then Lyda cut it short.
“Folks, we've outlined the choices to you. Neither Tsing nor I will lead you into a fight we can't win. Those who want to stay here and join the Maoists, please try not to provoke the soldiers when they get here. Wave anything white you have and let them know you don't want to fight. For those who are going with Mister Kim and I, we need to get moving. Go over your assignments with the council members and be ready to leave in an hour. Everyone watch the children; don't let them stray. Mister Kim will be in charge of the rear; I'll take the front."
* * * *
Lyda looked back over her shoulder at the cluster of ragged humanity following her path along the beach. She had arranged for her and several young men and women armed with spears and bows to lead the way and watch for danger. As she walked purposefully along, lengthening the distance between them and the main body, she knew they had little chance of outrunning an army unburdened with children. All she could hope for was to find some other people, enough to make Mao think twice before attacking. She was upset because she couldn't think of any other course of action; always before, no matter what the situation, she had managed to overcome the odds and emerge from any crisis a stronger and better person. Like Dad used to say, she thought; sometimes there's just no cure for a problem.
She had told everyone accompanying them that they might be killed for staying with her if Mao's soldiers overtook them. She was surprised by the number who chose to come, and even more shocked and proud that they had enough confidence in her leadership to bring most of the children they were caring for along, too. She thought that was good; leaving children behind would only give a man like Mao hostages to force his will on them. She knew that few sane humans could resist watching children being mistreated, and she had no doubt that was what would happen if Mao thought it would work.
Lyda intended to fight if they were overtaken. If Mao was with his army, she hoped to get close enough to him before she was disarmed to shoot him dead. If not, and she survived, she intended to circle back and try to get close to him. It was probably a plan slated for failure, but if it came to that, she would do it and face the consequences. In the meantime, she had to hope she wasn't leading her followers into a situation where all they could do was die gloriously. Her only real hope now was that Tom had found a large enough group to oppose Mao that she and her band could join.
If all else failed, there were the mountains. If she and others who thought like her lived, perhaps they could find a haven there and overcome Mao's regime in the future. It wasn't a very consoling thought, nor a very likely probability.
The day was hot and humid, hindering progress. Lyda trudged along, simply putting one foot in front of the other and trying to stay alert for threats from indigenous life they hadn't encountered yet. She had to consciously slow her steps to keep from getting too far ahead of the main group. Just at nightfall, she met Tom and his three companions. His face split in a wide grin when he recognized her, then fell when he saw the grim expression on her face.
“What is it? What's happened?” Tom Buskin asked as soon as they met.
>
Lyda gave him a very brief summary, then asked him essentially the same question.
Tom sat down in the hard-packed sand above the shoreline they had been traveling on. “We found a great place to live, Miss Brightner, but good God, I never expected to find an army chasing you!"
“Never mind that. Tell me about what you found. And quick."
Tom hadn't realized the urgency of the situation until then. “Oh. Well, the beach curves back into a sort of rocky jumble that we had a hard time crossing. On the other side, the terrain begins rising and looks to be impassable, but the jambles also rise, then feed into a valley with sheer walls. There's plenty of game and fruit trees in there. Not only that, it looks as if the carnivores don't like the rocks. We didn't see any signs of them in the valley. I'm telling you, it beats where we are now all to...” He suddenly realized he was talking as if they were still back at the original beach.
Lyda had to grant him a small smile for that, but quickly went on with the questioning. “Would the valley be easy to defend once we're there?"
Tom thought a moment. “Yes, I think so. The jumbles, jambles—whatever you call a bunch of big boulders strewn out for a couple of miles—are hard to get through. There's one place right before you get to the valley where a few bowmen and pikes could hold off an army. I started to turn back there, but we still had time so we went on. Now, I'm glad we did."
“I am, too. Let's get back to the others and tell them. No, wait; how far is it?"
“Another day's walk."
“How's the beach up to the rocks?"
“It's easy. We could do it at night."
“Then we will. Come on, let's go.” Lyda didn't let him see the chagrin she felt at leaving some of her charges behind now that a safe haven was in sight, even though it had been their choice—and seemed like a good decision at the time.
* * *
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Mao's army detachment caught up with them just as they got into the rocks. Once there, Lyda had gone back to be with Tsing to form a rearguard after asking Tom to lead the others through the packed boulders. He had been intelligent enough to mark his trail; otherwise, the whole group might have gotten lost in the wilderness of huge rocks. As it was, most of the non-combatants were well into them when the rearguard came under attack.
