Sonora IV

by G. F. Hellstern

  Under the night sky’s rosy glow, Josué looked down the column of men. Their tank-like dinosaurs gave an aura of majestic power.

  Felisa caught his glance and smiled. He focused on the pathway ahead, still unsure if the triceratops led him or he led the triceratops.

  ***

  As the night sun perched on the horizon, a silent line of native warriors stretched into the jungle behind Omri Manor. “The first wave of the attack will be on foot,” Josué said.

  “Right. No need to risk the triceratopses.” Germán agreed all too eagerly. “Besides, how will you get them over the walls? An unencumbered foot soldier will more easily breach the Omri defenses.”

  Knowing how the man felt about the beasts, Josué wondered about his motives. He directed his captains to position around the manor. Each one moving through the jungle without a sound like only a native could.

  How many times have we imagined a day like this, he asked Felisa in the quiet as they waited for the night sun to hide itself below the horizon.

  “Too many,” she said out loud, emotion ripe in her voice.

  As the last rim of red glow dipped behind the mountains, Josué raised and lowered his hand in a chopping motion. The whistle of arrows filled the air. Grunts, followed by the soft thumping of men hitting the ground echoed throughout the compound.

  Within five minutes they had cleared the towers and breached the walls. A silent tide of grey robes washed over the walls and across the manor lawn.

  Josué, Felisa and Germán led their animals through the front gate and up the main pathway. They stopped in front of the manor proper. The doors lay flat on the inside of the great hall. Native warriors raced through corridors, past windows and up and down stairways. One of the captains appeared in the hallway, escorting three Omri guards, their hands over their heads.

  A cheer erupted from the slave quad. Josué turned to see an entire line of Omri guards, hands on their heads, parade around the far corner of the manor. Freed slaves ran along behind, throwing water at them and stopping to hug their native liberators. The captives were escorted to the wall and forced to kneel.

  A native captain stepped out of the Manor doorway, walked up to Josué and saluted.

  “What’s the report, Gurion?”

  “All secure, sir. They barely put up a fight.”

  “Good.” Germán stepped forward. “Bring ten of your best men and come with me. We have a lot of work to do.” He led the captain to the back of the manor, the two of them disappearing down a hallway.

  Josué looked at the manor lawn and felt a burning in his chest. “Does this do it for you?” He asked Felisa, eyebrow raised.

  Not really, she replied mentally.

  I know what you mean. He looked out at the subdued guards, sitting silently along the wall. “It feels too easy. I guess I had hoped . . . .” But Josué couldn’t put into words what he had hoped.

  You had hoped they would have put up more of a fight?

  Josué nodded. I think so.

  I agree. It’s too good for Ormand. The fire in her thought matched the intensity in his heart.

  Compared to what they did to your village and my family. I had hoped for more of a reckoning. Josué scratched his head. Perhaps that’s why Dominicci had planned his attack for when Ormand was here.

  ***

  When the last guard was secured, Josué led his men to the top of the hill along the road to the Trevino Manor and waited. He looked down at Ormand’s complex and tried to remember – then tried to forget.

  “It is a good first step.” Felisa put her hands on her hips.

  “Perhaps there will be more when we see Ormand face to face.” Josué turned to look at her.

  Germán, Gurion, and ten men made their way up the road from the manor. The rising sun painted the grounds in silent hues.

  Germán and his group led a last captive in their midst. Josué recognized the portly build of Melanion.

  “Well met, Master Trevino,” Melanion said as he walked past Josué.

  Josué fought down the feeling of pride conjured up by the man’s words.

  Gurion pushed Melanion over to join the group of captives on the hill.

  “Here you go.” Germán held out a box.

  “What is it?”

  “Push the button on that detonator and you’ll level the entire compound.” Germán smiled. “They had enough explosives down there to bury these mountains.”

  Before Josué could reach for it, Felisa grabbed the device. “All I have to do is press?”

  Josué squared his shoulders. Germán nodded. Her fingernail turned white against the outline of the button.

  Three heads turned toward the compound, but nothing happened.

  Josué looked at Felisa. Felisa looked at Germán. The big man shrugged and took a step toward the compound. Then the air snapped. Lightening flashed from the corners of the buildings. A rolling boom echoed across the valley. Germán jumped back.

  The manor buildings crumbled as if a giant, invisible hand pressed them into the ground. A long, low rumble shook the path. Billowing clouds rose from the falling buildings, growing as tall as the mountains before enveloping them.

  When the haze cleared, a dark crater was all that was left of the manor compound.

  Chapter 8, Felisa

  The triceratops stopped under Josué. The jungle seemed unusually silent.

  “Why here?” He kicked the beast in the side, not even sure that was the right way to command it.

  The triceratops shuddered, shaking its head from side to side.

  Turning in his seat, Josué noticed the entire column of ceratopsids had halted. A chill ran down his spine. What is it? He looked at Felisa.

  They sense something coming.

  Through the trees Josué saw the marsh. On the far end of the watery plain the mine entrance marking the line between Trevino and Omri property winked at him through the foliage like a large, vacant eye.

  Josué tried to catch Germán’s gaze, but the big man searched the sky.

  Do you hear that? Felisa asked.

  “They’re coming.” Germán pulled his blaster out and laid it across his leg.

  “Galactic warriors.” Josué looked at Germán. “Did you rearm the men with blasters?”

  “As many as we could find. They didn’t keep as large of a stockpile as I’d hoped.”

  Edging toward the dry creek bed running the length of the trail within the protection of the jungle canopy, Josué got off of his mount. The sound of the jets grew louder. “Get the men into the creek,” he told Germán and Felisa. “Let’s hope they don’t see us.”

  The command passed down to the captains. Men scrambled off their mounts and jumped into the leaf-strewn bank.

  Josué held his breath, hoping it would be a routine scouting party. Glancing along the line of soldiers he waved at Felisa in the center. Germán walked confidently to his position in the rear. As the big man crouched, the noise of the jets shook the ground in a roar so loud it could only mean they had landed.

  How did they find us? Josué asked Felisa.

  Her eyes found his. Someone must have a beacon!

  Kicking himself, he determined to search the captives when this was over.

  A large flame lit the jungle like a miniature sun along the border of the marsh, moving back and forth along the tree line. A wave of heat struck Josué in the face. Black smoke filled the trees above.

  “They’re burning the jungle away!” a native man cried.

  A triceratops stomped the ground and shook its horns in a circle. Josué tried to think thoughts of peace at the animal, but either he didn’t have a good enough link or he wasn’t projecting the right kind of thoughts. Before he could do anything to stop it, the beast gave a deep snort and barreled into the black smoke.

  “No!” Josué shouted.

  A loud grunt, a laze blast and an ear-piercing squeal echoed through the jungle. The entire line of soldiers stood to their
feet. Josué could see it on their faces and feel it in his own heart. The sound of a dinosaur suffering grated against the native ear.

  He pulled his voice weapon from its holster and checked his mouth piece, searching down the line for Germán. The battle-hardened settler remained kneeling, peering into the jungle.

  The look of determination on Germán’s face filled Josué with resolve. They had to think of the men, not the beasts.

  Another triceratops grunted and stomped the ground. There would be more charging if he didn’t do something.

  Steady, Josué thought at the dinosaurs and the men, but he was sure he wasn’t getting through to either of them.

  Another animal charged into the flame. More crunching noises followed by laser fire and another heart-wrenching squeal filled the jungle.

  Then Josué caught sight of Felisa. She stood perched on the top of the creek, her over-sized blaster at her shoulder.

  Waving her back into the trench, he cursed under his breath. She didn’t see him. Defiant, she searched the trees.

  He was sure the trench was the place to fight. How could he make them see that? The concealment and protection of the bank would give them the advantage they needed.

  “Hold your positions!” he shouted along the line, but no one looked at him. Every eye was riveted on the battle-tech torch, shining through the trees like a flaming sun. A stab of doubt pierced his heart. The smoke was getting close.

  Another triceratops stomped, snorted and disappeared into the smoke. This time a group of Josué’s men went with it.

  Through the haze, Josué caught sight of Felisa’s at their lead.

  “No! Stop!” Josué shouted. His voice echoed back flat and ineffective. Pulling at his hair, he eyed Germán then the men still in the trench. A black finger of smoke curled around his face, forcing a cough. This was the time for action. He had to back up those who were attacking, prevent as many deaths as he could.

  Reluctantly, he shouted the command, “Charge!” and left the bank’s protection.

  Smoke filled Josué’s world. Laser blasts exploded into the ground beside him. A dinosaur squeal ripped through the confusion. Men shouted. The stench of burning flesh curled into his nostrils. He gagged and stumbled.

  Abruptly, he found himself in a clearing. Blackened underbrush and withered trees lined the edge between jungle and scorched ground. A battle-tech warrior lay face-down in the marsh, a triceratops half-sprawled on top of him, its broken horn lifted toward the sky.

  To Josué’s left, a blue laze blast erupted beneath a tree. Only one non-battle-tech person had a blaster that color. He angled toward her.

  Another blue bolt burst from beneath the tree just before an arc of flame lashed out with lightning quickness to engulf it. Josué jumped back from the heat.

  “No!” he shouted, pointing his voice weapon at the flame-throwing battle-tech.

  The weapon leapt in Josué’s hand. A thousand ‘No’s!’ echoed from the barrel, sweeping through the clearing. The arm of flame rippled, smoothing into nothing. As the ripple hit the battle-tech warrior, its armor burst into a thousand pieces that rained over the marsh.

  The heat of a laze blast passed over Josué’s neck. Stepping forward, he aimed and shouted again. Another ripple vibrated through the air. More battle-tech armor blew across the field.

  He ran to where he’d seen the last blue shot. Afraid of what he might find, he hesitated at a smoking branch. He heard a fizz-pop in his ear.

  A soft moan came from the under branch. Then he saw her and ducked below the blackened leaves to kneel at her side. Steam rose from the ground around her.

  His heart sank when he saw her face. It was blackened. Half her hair was gone. The flesh on her arm was blistered, raw in spots.

  Felisa! He lifted her shoulders and touched her cheek. It felt warm and encouragingly whole.

  Her eyes opened. She looked at him and smiled. You saved the dinosaurs.

  He nodded, unable to stop the tears.

  She coughed, her face twisting into a grimace of pain. She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest. Josué held her there, her breath rattling like coins in a jar.

  Don’t die, Felisa. Hang on. He kissed her forehead, tears rolling down his cheeks, splashing on her arms, cleaning golden spots on her uniform.

  “Give her to me,” a voice behind him said.

  Josué looked up. The woman from the quicksand stood in a clearing, her sharp eyes fixed on him.

  “I can help her. Give her to me,” she said again.

  Josué searched her face. Who are you? Where have you come from?

  “I can heal her, Josué.”

  Perhaps it was the way she said his name that peeled back the doubt he felt. Or maybe it was the way his life had changed when she had crossed his path the last time. He took another look at his battered friend then at the woman. He kissed Felisa’s forehead, brushed what remained of her hair from her face and lifted her into the woman’s arms.

  The grey-cloaked lady carried Felisa to a green raptor sitting in the trees. Holding her close, she mounted and kicked it into action.

  Josué turned to find Germán standing behind him. A wet streak lined the veteran leader’s face. He placed a hand on Josué’s shoulder.

  All Josué felt was a dull, cold lump in his chest.

  Chapter 9, The Video

 

  Ormand sat in his penthouse overlooking the parliamentary building and thought through the events of the day. Opening session of government had gone well. It was the first official gathering with him sitting as ‘Master Grandee.’ He marveled how little difference the title had made. He had had the power for so long, the position was meaningless by now.

  Ormand pulled a tobacco pouch from his parliamentary jacket and looked at Atlantos. The man seemed more intent than usual on the news feeds.

  Ormand licked the edge of his cigarette paper and loaded it with the Omri mixture he planned to send to market next month. He smoothed the paper’s seam with his fingers and pinched the ends, glancing at Atlantos. The man was studying a hologram of a large crater with more intensity than usual.

  “What’s that?”

  “Omri Manor, Sire.”

  “He-he. I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor through all of this.”

  “I should say, it was Omri Manor. It’s gone now,” Atlantos clarified.

  “Be serious. What is that a picture of?”

  “It’s Omri Manor, or . . . what’s left of it. It was destroyed today.” Atlantos looked blankly at Ormand.

  Ormand stood up then sat back down. He put his cigarette in his mouth then took it out. He craned to see the screen better then kicked the air. “Apolino! But, why would he destroy Omri manor?” Ormand sucked air through the cigarette, still not ready to light it. “Do you think he found out about Mr. Ciro?”

  “No. This wasn’t Apolino. Melanion sent a distress signal this afternoon, and Apolino’s troops actually responded to it. He wouldn’t have done that if he had destroyed the manor. No, it looks like Apolino tried to help.”

  “Melanion? He survived? Good.” Ormand put a hand to his head. Atlantos was going way too fast for him. “Why would Apolino help?”

  “I don’t know. He sent a contingent of six battle-tech to investigate.”

  “Six! Sounds excessive.”

  “That’s Apolino. Word is all six were trampled by ceratopsids when they tried to burn the jungle down.”

  Ormand scrunched his nose. “Ceratopsids? Burn the jungle?” – Atlantos really wasn’t making sense. Ormand put the unlit cigarette in his shirt pocket. He would need all his faculties to handle this one. “Go back to the part about Omri Manor being gone. How did that happen?”

  “Mudslide. Sinkhole. Or both. All I have is the picture you saw.” Atlantos flipped to a different hologram. In it, several ceratopsids lay in a mangled heap of trampled battle-tech guards.

  Ormand stood up and walked over to the balcony. He peered out
at the city walls, squinting in the direction of the Manor, but it was too far and too dark to see anything. He turned back to Atlantos.

  The dark-haired man sat with his arms and legs at angles, pulling on his bottom lip. His dumb stare irritated Ormand. “So. Where is Melanion now?” Ormand asked.

  Atlantos shrugged and looked up. His grey irises had all but swallowed his pupils.

  “Why did Apolino’s men use flame throwers?” Atlantos asked.

  “Another off-topic question. Have you lost your mind? More importantly – what happened to Omri Manor!” Ormand tried not to yell, but he heard his voice echo through the hallway. “Who cares what happens to Apolino’s men? So what if dinosaurs trampled them? Welcome to Sonora IV, Mr. Apolino. Teach your men not to startle the wildlife.”

  Atlantos nodded and turned back to the screen, a vacant expression on his face. “It doesn’t sound like the Syndicate, but it could have been.”

  Just then Mr. Apolino’s face appeared on Atlantos’s holo-deck, his expression was grave with a slight twinge of accusation.

  Ormand turned his back to the image. Apolino was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. He needed more information before dealing with this man.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. I trust the night finds you well?”

  Ormand tensed his shoulders. “And why shouldn’t it?” He brushed a curl from his forehead and turned to glare at the screen, feeling for his cigarette.

  “I wouldn’t know. Perhaps you haven’t heard? Six of my men gave their all in your defense, today.”

  Ormand turned away from Apolino’s feigned look of grief. “So it wasn’t a mudslide!” he said to Atlantos, pointing his cigarette at him, but Atlantos was still studying the stupid dinosaur image.

  “Mudslide? Do mudslides ride on triceratopses and fire laser canons? No, it wasn’t a mudslide.” Apolino grinned.

  Ormand gritted his teeth. He had betrayed ignorance, something he hated to do in front of Apolino. Ormand put the cigarette in his mouth and searched his pockets for a lighter. How hard would Apolino make this?

  Apolino continued. “We assumed it was the Syndicate when we responded to the transmission. Then we saw their firepower. This is not something the Syndicate could pull off. Not unless they have made a recent dis-cov-ery.” Apolino drew out the word and paused. He looked at Ormand and Atlantos in turn as if to ask what they might know.