Sonora IV

by G. F. Hellstern

  Lying on the large rock’s smooth surface, the warmth from the day sun seeped into his aching muscles. He looked up at the stars and thought about Felisa and her soft lips.

  ***

  Halfway through the night, a deep thrumming woke him. The night sun was a small fireball perched on the horizon.

  The thrumming stopped when he raised his head. Josué looked down at the mine entrance. Two large, silvery eyes peered back at him. The shadow of a tongue flickered between him and the eyes. A lizard-like shadow shifted in the narrow entrance of the cave.

  Josué stared, unable to move. The eyes blinked; each one half as big as his head.

  Holding his breath, his eyesight turned amber. If you ignore the animal, it will most likely leave you alone, he said to himself. Obeying the instinct, he lay his head back down. After a while, the thrumming started again. Josué’s eyesight returned to normal.

  Was this how the sacred sands worked? Yellow sight with the answers he needed, but only when he really needed them?

  He considered the concept, but quickly decided there had to be something more to it. The Elders had a much deeper connection than he did.

  Then he wondered if he would ever have the depth of connection Elder John had. Would his half-settler heritage hinder him?

  ***

  Josué blinked awake in the bright warmth of the morning sun. The mine entrance below him was empty. The animal, whatever it had been, had gone.

  Stomach rumbling, Josué climbed down to the tree line to search for breakfast. In spite of Basilio’s negative outlook and obvious suspicion of settlers, he had really shown Josué a lot about how to survive in the jungle, something Josué appreciated as he started to climb a Mangarine tree.

  Under the cover of the tree’s leaves, he paused and cocked his head to the side. A vaguely familiar sound had entered the valley at the southern end.

  Stilling his breath, he listened. It was the unmistakable hum of a skimmer.

  He looked out through the branches. A brown vehicle made its way into the valley, flying up the river. Two men in the open-aired vehicle searched the mountainside.

  Zim’s men! With a flash of panic, Josué realized he hadn’t come up with a plan, yet.

  His mind raced. What did he have to fight with? There was Timeos’ pick. The machete . . . . He shook his head. None of those would work against blasters.

  The skimmer’s hum changed pitch as it paused. Josué slid down the tree. Perhaps they wouldn’t notice this peak. Did they even know where Timeos had gone? There hadn’t been a radio in the pack. Maybe they would fly out of the valley after a moment.

  Josué stepped toward the cave, keeping within the cover of the tree line. Tensing his muscles, he prepared to dash across the rock and into the mine entrance.

  His eyesight turned yellow.

  The low staccato of a raptor roar echoed through the valley, a challenge roar! The scrape of talon against metal immediately followed. The skimmer’s engine turned to a high-pitched whine before grinding to silence.

  Josué jumped up onto the mine ledge and looked down into the valley. A thin column of smoke rose from the overturned skimmer. A brilliant green raptor perched on it.

  With a flick of its tail, it slipped beneath the brown hull and out of sight. Petrified cries echoed through the valley, silenced quickly by blood-chilling gurgles. A tree shook then everything was still.

  ***

  Early the next day, motion in the north side of the valley brought hope. Standing high on what he’d begun to call Lookout Rock, he watched the trees in the valley move as if a giant snake undulated through them. The movement spread out in a line along the river.

  The familiar grunt of a triceratops echoed across the valley. Basilio had returned.

  Chapter 6, The Dais

  The dais overlooked the marshlands. From the edge of its circular platform Josué thought he could see an arched sauropod neck and wondered if it was an Omri slave team plowing a rice paddy. He could almost feel the silt between his toes and the push of the massive plow. In an odd way he missed his days there – horrible as they were. His shoulders had broadened under the weight of the plow beam, he had come to know dinosaurs there and he had made a friend.

  “Are you thinking thoughts of balance, Master Trevino?” Tacito walked up and gripped his arm.

  Josué smiled, remembering the Elder’s personality theories. “Yes, as a matter of fact I think I am.” Even the massive plow-beam resembled a balance. Perhaps the Elder was right. He was a stabilizer.

  “It’s not a bad thing. Some of the best leaders in history have been Stabilizers. You’re on your way to greatness of your own, I would think.” Tacito looked out at the marsh for a moment longer then turned to the council table and found his seat.

  One word from the man’s comment stuck with Josué, greatness. What would greatness be like for him? From what his grandfather had shown, he could rightly claim the title, ‘Master Grandee.’ It was a kind of greatness. The Omri Family had certainly thought of the title as something to kill for. Like the massive plows of the rice paddies, they had driven people into the ground in their struggle to claim it.

  Someone would have to stop Ormand, Josué decided. It would be a good thing if not a great thing to rid the planet of a man like Ormand Omri. Perhaps that would be his greatness.

  He turned to find his seat across from Tacito.

  There were six chairs in the circle this time. Germán would join them. The big man’s voice broke the silence of the Dais, “. . . enough ships to blockade Sonora IV, unless they rush us. Even then we’d take ‘em comfortably enough.” Germán caught himself when he stepped onto the platform. Cheeks red, he almost tiptoed to an empty chair, his finger in front of clinched lips.

  After what seemed like a traditional moment of silence, Mateo began. “Josué, we owe you a debt.”

  Josué looked up at the Elder. The man smiled, concentrating on the table. A hologram of a building appeared in its center. When the image clarified, it zoomed out and rotated slowly. There was a pond along the side of the white mansion. An arched bridge stretched over the water to a pathway leading to another small, roundish building on the hillside.

  Josué sat forward. The layout felt familiar. As the image rotated slowly, he saw four white pillars frame the front of the main building. Two windows looked out either side of a door he would never forget. “Trevino Manor!”

  “We’re in the first stages of rebuilding it. We’d like to continue, with your permission of course.”

  Josué looked up then looked hastily down, feeling his eyes a little too moist. “It looks just the way I remember it. I . . . Yes . . . Of course you have my permission.”

  “Good.” Mateo looked pleased. Then with both hands he lifted a large bag and placed it on the table. The image vanished. He pushed the bag over to Josué.

  “Your first week’s earnings from the mine. You will continue to receive a monthly portion while the mine is in operation. Finder’s rights, if you will.” The man nodded at him to take it.

  Josué slid the bag over and almost picked it up before sliding it further, to Germán. “Will this help with the blockade?”

  Germán looked down and coughed; his face slightly red. “Yes. It would add another ship . . . or even two.” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure?”

  Josué nodded. “I don’t want any more of Apolino’s men to land on this planet. We need to make it as tight as we can. Starve out Ormand. Feed the Syndicate.”

  Germán nodded and set the bag next to his chair.

  Mateo leaned against his seat. “This brings me to another point. The injustices of the Omri Family have gone unanswered by our people for far too long. We’ve endured wanton raids, enslavement and encroachment of our land.” Mateo paused and leaned forward. “We will endure it no longer.”

  As he spoke, the elder looked at Josué. Josué shifted his position, wondering why the Elder had singled him out from the others. Everyone at
the table had reason to hate the Omri Family.

  Mateo cleared his throat. “The sands indicate you, Josué are the one to lead us to victory over the Omri Family.”

  Josué’s ears burned. He could feel his face flush. His shirt seemed too tight. The elder must have made a mistake. He glanced at Germán. His friend sat forward, an eager expression on his face. Josué didn’t feel eager; he felt a strange desire to slink away from the meeting. He swallowed. “Why me?”

  Mateo sat back. “As a native – and the head of the Syndicate by birth and right, it makes sense.”

  At the word native, Josué glanced down at his arms. They glowed with the native hue. The sun and jungle from his walk to El Umbral had brought out the golden color.

  He knew it wouldn’t be enough, though. Felisa had never thought of him as native, even when his skin glowed like hers. It couldn’t be shaken. He was an outsider – a half-breed.

  Mateo continued, “There is no one better trained to fight the Omri Family. With the Syndicate and the Trevino name, you are in a unique position. All of that aside – the sacred sands speak your name.”

  Josué couldn’t express the doubt he felt. “But . . .” he started, a frown creasing his chin and cutting off his words. He just never felt native before. He had never belonged to any people, too native to be settler and too settler to be native. “I don’t think I’m native enough.”

  The elders glanced at one another. The pained expression on Elder John’s face made Josué wish he hadn’t said it. “Your mother was native, Josué. There is no doubt of your heritage.”

  It was obvious none of them had ever thought of him as anything but native.

  “You have the link. Elder John has verified this.” Mateo’s expression was sincere.

  Elder Ignacio leaned forward. “You’ve found El Umbral, brought us the voice weapon, and you control the Syndicate – the only other fighting force on the planet not on Ormand’s payroll.”

  Josué shifted in his seat. He rarely heard Ignacio speak, let alone pay attention to anything other than his books. The man’s passion stirred something in Josué.

  “You are the only one who can do this.” Mateo pressed the tips of his fingers together. “We, as a people, will follow no one else into battle.” The golden elder looked at the others around the table, his gaze stopping at Germán. Josué followed the gaze, noting the nods of agreement.

  The way Mateo made it sound; it had already been decided. Basilio’s attitude still bothered him, though. “Basilio barely followed my lead. How can I command a people who hate the very sight of settlers?”

  Basilio’s wife was captured by the Omri Family. Josué heard Elder John’s words in his mind. She is likely dead.

  Mateo put his hand on Josué’s shoulder. “But, he did follow you, didn’t he?”

  Josué looked down. Perhaps he hadn’t been fair to Basilio. The guide had done everything he’d asked of him. “I’ve only studied warfare from books. I have no experience actually fighting.”

  “You have men with experience at your disposal.” Mateo gestured to Germán. “Germán is a seasoned warrior. And there is Garvin.” He waved his arm around the circle of chairs. “We, as the Elders of your people, will advise you.” He stared blankly at Josué as if waiting for another excuse.

  Josué searched Germán’s face, remembering the moment the two cell leaders had presented him with the fact that he now led the Syndicate. Garvin and Germán had believed in him then. Their loyalty had not faded. “What do you say, Germán?”

  The big man crossed his arms. “I agree with Mateo. As the Syndicate, we work for you. The resources these people have. . . .” He looked around at the dais and pointed through the trees to the village. “The warriors they can bring to the fight may be the edge you need. It will certainly be something Ormand won’t expect. Could be enough to knock him out of power. If, as Mateo says, they only follow you, it is up to you to decide what to do.”

  Josué sunk back in his chair. His heart burned in his chest. He gritted his teeth. Hadn’t he just found their gold mine? Now they wanted him to fight their war?

  He crossed his arms. It was his war too, after all. He had just as much pain invested in removing Ormand as they did – perhaps more. He would gain from it too he reminded himself. His foot tapped the floor. It would be his family that rose from the ashes of this conflict if they were successful.

  He pursed his lips. He could do it, he had no doubt. His father and Hector had trained him for it. There had been countless hours on strategy and warfare.

  Tacito spoke up. “Look, maybe this is too much, too soon. Perhaps we should give him time to think it over.”

  “I don’t need time.” Josué leaned forward. “I’ll do it. When can we be ready?”

  “I can drop the gold off for the blockade and be back within a week.” Germán looked at Elder Mateo.

  “We can have an army ready for you within that same week.” Mateo crossed his arms.

  “A week it is, then.” Josué wondered if it would be enough time to come up with a plan.

  Chapter 7, Omri Manor

  The torch light on the dais flickered in the night hour, making everything seem golden. Josué held his father’s voice weapon in his hands and ran his finger along the blaster barrel. Squinting, he relived the moment he had shot the weapon the first time. There had been a glimmer in his father’s eyes. It was your greatest invention, Father, he said, wishing the link could send his message to his father, even now. Let’s hope it will be enough.

  “We will have more ready by the end of the week,” Elder John said. “Meet us at Trevino Manor when you are finished.”

  Josué nodded. The past seven days had been spent watching drills and talking strategy. They wouldn’t need the voice weapon for the first wave – if everything went according to plan.

  Germán entered the council and sat down. All five faces turned to him.

  “Good news. The gold bought us three ships for the blockade – better than we’d hoped.”

  Josué grinned. “Excellent.”

  Mateo nodded and looked at Elder John. “I trust things are coming together with the army?”

  The blue-robed elder nodded in silent agreement.

  Josué scooted to the edge of his seat. “Elder John and I have planned a move against the Omri Family. Something swift and decisive.” He looked at Mateo, hoping he would hear him out and at the same time startled to see he would. “We propose to attack Omri Manor itself.”

  Across the table, Germán shoulder’s shook. An audible chuckle escaped.

  The elders looked at one another. Tacito spoke first. “I admire your courage, Josué, but haven’t other families tried this and failed?”

  “The Dominicci Family tried it, yes.” Josué put his hands on the table. “But they failed because they tried to do it at the wrong time of year. They attacked when Ormand was at the manor – his guard at full strength. If we attack while Parliament is in session and Ormand is away, only half of the guard will be there.” He sat back.

  Tacito looked at Germán. The veteran nodded and leaned forward. “What Josué says is true. Ormand takes his best men with him to the city. He has more to fear there than at the manor.”

  Josué spoke again, “During Parliamentary sessions, the watchmen grow lax. As slaves, we welcomed the sessions and prayed they would last as long as possible.”

  John looked at Ignacio. The man nodded slightly.

  “If we destroy his manor, the Omri Family can no longer claim a seat in Parliament,” Josué added. “If we succeed, we remove his staging base. And, if we’re lucky, we may destroy his weapons cache.”

  Mateo sat with his arms crossed, looking from Josué, to Germán then to Elder John. “What do you say, Tacito?”

  “It sounds feasible. A victory would boost morale and unite the men under Josué.”

  “Ignacio?” Mateo turned to the green-robed elder.

  “Parliament will be in session tomorrow.
Ormand has likely already left the compound. I could send a scout to verify it.”

  “Do so.” Mateo put his hands on the table. “I like Josué’s plan. If you don’t have any objections, Elder John?”

  The blue-robed elder shrugged his shoulders. “The troops are ready. I think Josué’s has an excellent idea.”

  “A day should be enough to finalize things then.” Mateo caught Josué’s eye and smiled. “Pass the word, we move tomorrow night.”

  Josué hadn’t expected it to go that smoothly. He turned to Germán. The warrior gave a thumb’s up.

  ***

  The briskness of the preceding week dissolved into the slowness of the next twenty-four hours. A million possible things to go wrong played out in his mind. Secretly he had hoped there would have been more opposition to his idea – or at least more guidance. He was certain his plan was right, but still, he felt uneasy. The nagging feeling he’d overlooked or forgotten some crucial detail wouldn’t go away.

  In spite of how slow time moved, the moment to mount his triceratops came all too soon. A line of native soldiers stood at attention next to a milling group of ceratopsids. Josué’s toes felt like ice and his knees like thin wires. He knew they waited on him.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Germán. The man scowled at his beast from behind the bone collar. For some reason the look on his friend’s face gave Josué courage. He nodded down the line and climbed his mount.

  Germán mounted next, with difficulty. Felisa glided onto her triceratops, her captured battle-tech blaster balanced on her hip. The rest of the men mounted in unison.

  Fear and anticipation tingled in Josué’s fingers. He looked down the jungle path. Then, without further ceremony, he kicked his animal into motion.

  The sun dipped below the horizon as they left the safety of the village perimeter. A cold wind blew across his shoulders. An icy knot clenched his gut.