by Weston Ochse
The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I’d already thought about that but am trying not to build hope.
Come on, Mason. Can’t you cultivate a little hope?
Not after everything I’ve seen. There is no hope. Only opportunity seized.
Then think of the opportunity you can seize.
There is that.
Oh, and one more thing.
And that is?
We have a surprise for you when you get back.
I groaned. I fucking hate surprises. And I told him so, then signed off.
A moment later, Charlemagne came running up. “Boss, Merlin’s in a bad spot.”
“What’s he done now?”
“Taken things into his own hands.”
“What does that mean?”
“You have to see it to believe it.”
My heart sank as I began to run. I should have been with him instead of speaking with Thompson. What had I been thinking? His family might possibly… scratch that… probably were dead. I owed him my life and I repaid it in death.
I poured on the speed, churning my legs through the tundra grass as fast as they could go.
Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles with the cold.
Andre Maurois
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MERLIN HAD DOUSED himself with gasoline and stood in the middle of the old wooden dock. Maybe two dozen Yupik remained and stood watching, their faces carved with a tired mixture of exhaustion and anger. Merlin’s sister was among them. Her thoughts were hidden behind dead eyes. What struck me raw was that the scene was in total silence. The only sounds I could hear were the whistling of the wind, the lapping of the waves against the dock’s pylons, and the occasional walrus song from the ugly.
Any other place, any other people, and they’d be trying to get the person to stop.
But not these people.
Not here.
And it made me furious.
I slid to a stop ten feet away from Merlin, surrounded in a half circle by the surviving Yupik. “Merlin, stop!”
He held a red plastic fuel can, hugging it to his chest. He stared at the ground, his shoulders almost imperceptivity moving to silent sobs.
I spun towards the crowd just as Charlemagne and the twins ran up behind them.
“How can you let him do this? He is one of you!”
Black Hand Woman stared through me, then turned her back on me. At that moment I wanted to rip every tattoo she’d given me and throw them back in her face. The others saw her move and joined her, one by one—every surviving member of the tribe turning their back on Merlin. Finally it was only his sister. She stood, her head held high, chin jutting, staring at her brother.
“Is this what you want, Heavenly? For Merlin to kill himself? Is this what you think is proper?” I shouted. “Is the entire invasion to be blamed on Merlin? I don’t want to fucking belittle your belief systems, but the aliens don’t care a fuck about your beliefs. They didn’t care about the Christian beliefs or the Muslim beliefs or even Buddhist beliefs. They just fucking came and no Jesus or Allah or Buddha or even your Raven appeared to stop them.
“Merlin is not only fighting for the survival of Savoonga and the Yupik here, but also for the whole of mankind. Do you really think that Merlin killing the orca caused the Cray to come and attack? If you do, then you’re a lot more stupid than I took you for. The Cray were coming long before that. They were coming to destroy the debris from an alien space craft. And how do I know this? Because OMBRA intercepted their communications and found out about it.”
A few Yupik began to turn and listen to me, including the Chiklak brothers. I called to them.
“George… Sam… Merlin is your blood brother. You played as children. You hunted bear together using the old ways. And now you’re going to blame Merlin for something the aliens had planned long ago?”
“How do we know what you say is true?” Sam asked.
“Do you think I lie? What advantage would I have to lie?”
Now everyone had turned around. I felt the gaze of dozens of eyes.
“Because you want Merlin to live,” said Black Hands Woman. “I know your history. I etched it on your skin. You lie because you don’t want another name recorded there. You lie because you don’t want to feel the guilt of their deaths.”
My rage fell momentarily away as I laughed. “Black Hands Woman, even after all of this you don’t understand. Before I came here, when I was broken, I was that man who felt sorry for himself, who was afraid to lose. I was the man who thought he’d sent soldiers to their deaths. But my time here has changed me. Time away from death has let me understand it better. I’ve always known that grunts like me don’t fight for flags or lofty ideals or a commander’s speech. We’re grunts. We do as we’re told. We fight for the grunt in the proverbial foxhole on either side of us. We fight for ourselves. I’d forgotten that all of my grunts had the same belief. All of them, from Mikey all the way to Nance, who died a few hours ago—every last one of them laid down their life so that I might live. And now I should feel sorry about it?“How dare I feel sorry for myself for that! Their deaths were a gift and I’d been disrespecting it. Living with you made me realize the importance of life and the gift of death… how you take creatures from the sea and land and honor their deaths by letting them live on as objects to be used and cared for.”
I turned to Black Hands Woman and ripped my shirt off, pointing to the names she’d inked on me. “These names… these grunts all died so that I might live. That I was their leader had nothing to do with it. Whether we were on mission or ambushed or just unlucky had nothing to do with it. They chose to fight. They chose to let me lead them. They fucking chose to be in the circumstance that killed them. Did they want to die? No. But they did and I’m going to honor them. Each of these names is a memory of someone great. Each of these names has a history that I want to remember. Each of these names is a hero… a grunt hero. Every last fucking one of them. So when you tell me that I don’t want to feel guilt about their deaths,” I laughed hoarsely. “You are dead wrong. Just as you have been dead wrong about a lot of things.” I waved my hands at the crowd. “Now away with you. Go find someone else to blame about the invasion. I’m going to concentrate on my brother.”
I turned to Merlin, who was now staring at me wide-eyed. “Brother.” I shook my head and walked toward him with my arms out. “Brother, trust in me. This isn’t you. This is the aliens. This is all about them. Killing an orca had nothing to do with this.” I walked up to him, grabbed half full gasoline can from him and tossed it aside. Then I embraced him, my arms encircling him, his face shoved into the crook of my neck. The smell of gasoline stung my eyes. “I’m sorry the Cray attacked, my brother, but they’ve been attacking everyone since they landed. Savoonga is just the latest casualty in a long war.”
He sobbed. I held him fast. Eventually I noted a presence beside me. I turned my head slightly and saw that it was Heavenly, her eyes now filled with emotion.
“Merlin, I have been where you are. I watched the Cray destroy my hometown. I watched them kill my friends. But we aren’t helpless. We can kill them. We can get back at them. We can go to them and show them what violence is really about.” Then I lowered my voice so only he could hear. “And we go to them so that you can kill, because through their deaths comes the cleansing necessary for your soul.”
“What you’re talking about is revenge,” he whispered.
“It’s a good a reason as any to fight. Entire nations have risen and fallen because of revenge. If there’s no other reason to fight, revenge has always been a suitable option.”
I released him and stepped back.
Heavenly moved slowly forward, then reached out a tentative hand. She gently touched Merlin on the arm.
He looked at her, his eyes full of tears.
Then they embraced.
I watched for a moment then turned, giving them privacy. When I did, I saw that no one had left. They were all s
taring at me. Standing there without my shirt I felt oddly naked.
Black Hands Woman brought me a blanket and I wrapped it around my shoulders, shivering a little. I stared into her ancient, deeply creased face.
“I understand now,” she said, then walked away.
The crowd began to disperse, Yupik going their separate ways. Sam Chiklak stayed where he was. When he was sure he had my attention, he nodded, then moved off.
Peal and her brother approached with Charlemagne closely behind.
“Didn’t know you could speechify,” Pearl said.
“Is that what it was?” I shrugged. “I was just pissed off.”
“We says the same thing in Légion Etrangère,” Charlemagne said. “Iz article deux of our Code d’honneur du legionnaire. It says, Chaque légionnaire est ton frère d’armes, quelle que soit sa nationalité, sa race ou sa religion. Tu lui manifestes toujours la solidarité étroite qui doit unir les membres d’une même famille.” He grinned. “Each legionnaire is your brother in arms whatever his nationality, his race or his religion might be. You show him the same close solidarity that links the members of the same family.” He put his arms around Earl and Pearl, suprising them both. “Vous etes mon famille!”
I saw Earl staring at the names inked to my body. His mouth hung slightly open as his gaze wandered my personal graveyard.
“You want to play the kill game, Earl?” I asked as his eyes met mine. “You go out there and kill enough, you’ll have your own litany of dead friends and fellow grunts. This is what it looks like when you have four thousand seven hundred and sixty-six kills.”
“Is that what I am, a grunt?” he asked.
“Didn’t you get the memo? Who’d you think you were, some kid playing at war, never going to die, never going to get hurt? This ain’t a video game. This shit is real. Good people get killed, life sucks, and then you die. The only thing you can control is what happens in between.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome to grunt life.”
He swallowed, as if realizing for the first time that there was a penalty to be paid greater than death. Sometimes surviving was harder than dying because you had to learn to live with other people’s deaths. It had taken me a decade to figure that out and I still didn’t have all of it. But I was a better grunt now than when we were invaded. It sucked that it took the destruction of the world to get me right in the head… well, almost right in the head.
Revenge, lust, ambition, pride, and self-will are too often exalted as the gods of man’s idolatry; while holiness, peace, contentment, and humility are viewed as unworthy of a serious thought.
Charles Spurgeon
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MERLIN REJOINED US a different man. I think I’d been able to convince the survivors enough so they’d finally stopped blaming him. For them to change, it took the Yupik barely surviving an attack by savage aliens to set aside thousands of years of cultural indoctrination. But then again, hadn’t that happened to all of us? I’d seen several tribe members go to him. I wasn’t sure what was passed, but it resulted in nodding of the heads rather than shaking of the heads. He’d gone back to the longhouse to get his father’s aangruyak, which had been in the family for more than two hundred years. The wood had hardened to an almost steel-like consistency. This lance, used to dispatch large marine animals, had an iron heel and whale ivory inlaid mid-shaft to give the hunter a better grip. Instead of the traditional steel tip, Merlin had replaced it with a Cray claw, making the weapon a wickedly savage combination of alien and ancient.
We’d finished transferring everything to the AC-130 when he arrived. I looked up from where I’d been helping the crew chief of the new plane cinch down the alien bodies.
“You know you don’t have to come with us, right?” I nodded towards the village. “You can stay and help them rebuild.”
He shook his head. “I’m a hunter. I want to hunt.”
“People hunt to eat. They hunt to survive. What we’re doing isn’t the hunting you’re used to. We’re not going to just hunt the enemy, we’re going to track them down and destroy them.”
“Then I want to be a part of it. I need to be a part of it.”
A flash of worry swept through me. It had been my own inertia that had set Merlin on this path to revenge. The need for revenge was a powerful thing that required constant feeding and attention, and I wasn’t sure if I needed someone on my team who had a different agenda. But then I thought about it. Wasn’t everyone here fighting for revenge? Revenge for the loss of their homes, their loved ones, their way of life? What was done was done. We’d already proven we couldn’t kick the aliens off the planet, so why were we still fighting? I tabled the question until I had more time to really think about it.
“If you travel with us, you are not alone. You’re part of a team. Sometimes the team hunts. Sometimes the team doesn’t. Is that clear, my brother?”
Merlin looked at me, cocking his head. “It is as you say. When you were on my hunts, I was the professional. I knew how to kill without being killed. Now on your hunts, you are the professional. I should pay attention to your lead.”
I hoped that meant what I thought it did. I grinned. “Cray don’t taste half as good as the things you hunt.”
Merlin made a face. “You’ve actually eaten them?”
I laughed. “No. I was just guessing.”
Charlemagne broke in. “Taste like fishy chicken, but with the right combination of herbs and butter…” He brought two fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Fantastique!”
Both Merlin and I stared at the Frenchman, agog.
“You’re not really serious,” I said.
“How do you say… as a heart attack?” he replied. Then he added, “One of our legionnaires was a trained chef… Le Cordon Bleu. He made shoes elegante!”
I shook my head. “Not this guy.”
Merlin mimicked me. “Not this guy, either.”
I stuck my hand out to Merlin. “Then welcome to the squad, Merlin.” Glancing once more at the village, I added, “It might be a long time before you get the chance to return.”
“I understand. I’ve said my goodbyes. Now it’s time for the long hunt.”
“What about your sister?” I asked.
“She’s going to be the new leader. She has the support of both Sam and George, as well as Black Hands Woman.” He grunted. “While the rest of us were out hunting, she was at my father’s side. She’s going to do well.”
“Then strap down your lance and we’ll find you a place to store the rest of your gear.”
Since he’d only brought a small duffel bag it wasn’t going to be an issue. I held out my hand, but he made no move to hand it to me. “What is it?”
“I want to say something to the team first.”
I gathered everyone around, then Merlin spoke. “What you saw on the dock with the gasoline… that is a dead version of me.” He took the time to look everyone in the eye to make sure that they understood. Then he pointed to his chest with a thumb. “This is the real version of me. The only version of me.”
Earl and Pearl glanced at each other.
Charlemagne grinned.
I wasn’t sure Merlin was done until he dropped his bag then found a seat. By his silence, I figured that was about all he was going to say on the matter. All righty then. I snatched up his bag and tossed it to Earl.
An hour later, we were underway.
The AC-130 was already seriously cramped because of the various ammo magazines necessary for the weapons. Unlike the sparse crew of the previous C-130, an AC-130 needs a lot of attention. I’d flown with the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment in Afghanistan and had seen firsthand how the flying tank operated. They usually had a pilot, co-pilot, navigator, fire control officer, electronic warfare officer (all officers), then a flight engineer, TV operator, infrared detection set operator, loadmaster, and four aerial gunners (all enlisted). With a compliment of thirteen personnel, working in the back of the Spectrewas li
ke having an infantry platoon work the line of a fast food restaurant in full battle rattle. You couldn’t even move without rubbing up against someone else. Especially with a full complement of ammo.
Lucky or unlucky—that would depend on what we encountered on the way back—the Spectrehad depleted all of its 105mm rounds, half of its Vulcan 20mm rounds, and a third of its 40mm Bofors rounds. Plus, they didn’t have a full compliment of personnel. Evidently the end of the world manning requirement was less than half of pre-invasion. Still, with a pilot, co-pilot, loadmaster and three gunners, crampage was spectacular. Add the EXOs, the spidertank, and the remains, and it had been a challenge to fit everything into the smaller hold. In order to transport the Russian spidertank, they’d had to disassemble the 105mm Howitzer and use the gained space. Even then it was like trying to shove a Cadillac into a space the size of a Volkswagen. Earl and Pearl were forced to travel inside their EXOs just to alleviate crowding. I chose them because I knew they’d find use for the time, probably play some video game they’d illegally downloaded into the EXOs electronics suite. Charlemagne, Merlin and I had to sit on the remains and debris recovered from the trash site and hold on as best we could.
Luckily the first leg was short. We landed at Red Devil, Alaska and where a B2 Stealth Bomber was waiting for us. With its swept back wings, it was as sleek as any aircraft I’d ever seen. They offloaded the remains and the debris we’d brought back and stored it all in the aircraft’s empty bomb bays, which alleviated a lot of room inside the Spectre. We wouldn’t be doing the tango, but I wasn’t sitting on someone else’s lap, either.
A contingent of Alaskans manned a battery of .50 caliber machine guns. The runway ran northwest to southwest and on the southern perimeter I could see the remains of several Cray. With the warming of the climate they were coming farther north every day. One of them could bring down an aircraft or ground one if they came close enough. Their ability to EMP burst was as deadly to an aircraft as a tactical nuke. Even flying as we were, especially south, was a roll of the dice. Our only advantage was our ability to stand-off from the target and fire lethal rounds before they got within EMP range. We had to count on the pilots to keep us far enough away from large clouds of Cray and get us home safe. Based on my experience with the 160th Night Stalkers, I knew that we were in good hands. Even if we weren’t, it wasn’t as if I could fly the plane and do better. I just had to trust in the system.
