“Ah,” Danken said, smiling at Nakai, “he’s giving us his ‘me strong, silent Navajo’ act.”
Kroft laughed, but Nakai kept his head down, staring at his pants.
“He ain’t said a word,” Danken said, “since we hauled in that funny-looking plane this afternoon.”
Kroft left his thick arms fall to his sides. “Maybe,” he said in a playful tone that implied he didn’t believe a word he was about to say, “he’s not supposed to talk. Maybe the sarge told him everything was top secret.”
“You a Secret Agent Man, Nakai? Think you’re James Bond?”
“Naw, he’s Agent Smart.”
“Got a phone in your shoe, Nakai?”
“In his heel,” Kroft said.
Danken crossed his arms. Now the two men were standing in the exact same position. “You know, Nakai was alone, and he showed up after we found that plane.”
“So?” Kroft asked.
“So, Dietl had nothing to do with the plane. So why can’t he tell you where Dietl is?”
Nakai kept his head bowed, but he watched the two men out of the corner of his eye. It was becoming very clear they weren’t going to go away without a little push. And if he was going to push, it might as well be with a clear message to leave him alone.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to tell about Dietl,” Kroft said. “Maybe he scalped him.”
Nakai moved like a snake striking its prey. Quick, fast, and without warning. He came up off the bunk and planted his fist squarely on Kroft’s chin, aiming the blow straight through to a spot beyond Kroft’s thick head.
Kroft went down to the wood floor like a cement sack dropped from a truck. Nakai knew the blow hadn’t broken anything, but the other man would be seeing stars for a time.
Danken’s strong arms wrapped around Nakai, pinning him. “All right, Chief.” Danken’s voice sneered in Nakai’s ear. “Let’s see how you handle a real challenge.”
Instantly, Nakai smashed his head backward in a snapping motion, connecting with Danken’s nose. The crack echoed through the barracks.
Danken’s grip loosened just enough for Nakai to break free. Then with a quick reverse kick, Nakai buried his foot squarely into Danken’s stomach.
The breath left the corporal in a rush, spraying blood from the broken nose. Nakai stood, glancing around to see if anyone else wanted a part of the action. All the men in the barracks had surrounded the trio. They watched Nakai as if he were the dangerous one. He met their gazes one by one, challenging them. Most of the men looked away.
Kroft moaned and Nakai motioned for two privates to get him into his bunk. Danken was another matter. He was bleeding from his smashed nose, and having problems catching his breath. He’d be spending the night in the infirmary. And Nakai doubted that would improve his feelings toward people with dark skin.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Sarge’s voice boomed through the barracks.
No one answered.
The sarge entered the room and walked to the circle of men. They parted to let him through. He stopped beside Danken, and put his hands on his hips.
“Looks like he took a nasty fall.”
No one spoke. The other men didn’t move. Nakai stayed in the center of the circle, and slowly, so that it wasn’t noticeable, unclenched his fists.
Sarge pointed to two privates. “Help the corporal to the infirmary. Nakai, you come with me right now.”
Nakai expected that. After all, he was the one still standing, and he had blood on his knuckles. His right fist throbbed from the force of his blow to Kroft’s face. When the sarge turned his back, Nakai shook his fingers, trying to relax them. Nothing worked. He was going to have a sore hand for a day or so.
The sarge marched out of the barracks. Nakai followed.
The night was finally cool. The desert was silent. No more gunshots. No more anything. The light around the barracks was thin and artificial. Nakai could barely see the back of the sarge’s head.
About ten steps away from the barracks, the sarge turned to face Nakai. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me how that got started, do you?”
“I would rather not,” Nakai said.
“As I figured,” Sarge said, disgust in his voice. “Follow me.”
Nakai had no idea where they were headed, but he suspected the sarge wasn’t going to talk to him about the fight. He had a hunch the sarge wanted to talk to him about Dietl, the strange craft, and the gunfire that had ended only moments before.
7
It is difficult to know that I may help my brother only once, and then it must be in the fight with the monster. I must watch as he fights, picking my time. It is difficult. My desire is to help him in all things. But my brother is strong. He has never run from a fight, but he does not search out a fight. He has a balance far beyond his years. Our ancestors are pleased. As his brother, I am proud.
The sarge didn’t say another word. He pivoted, and headed back toward the barracks.
The direction he walked in surprised Nakai. Nakai had been expecting the sarge to use the outside entrance to the officers’ quarters. Instead, he headed toward the front hallway that connected Nakai’s barracks to a half-dozen others along the base’s main road. The sarge climbed the steps, and Nakai followed, the sound of their boots on the wood echoing in the quiet night.
No more shooting.
No shouting.
The silence continued to grate on his nerves.
The sarge opened the double doors, and went inside. As Nakai stepped through the doors, he cringed. No one had opened windows in the hallway, and it was even hotter than his barracks had been. The usual odors of sweat and floor polish seemed stronger than normal. All the doors were closed, and the hallway was empty.
The sarge turned away from Nakai’s barracks and headed toward “D” barracks at the far end of the hallway. The click of their boots on the smooth floor was the only sound.
“D” barracks was nearly empty, with most of its unit on maneuvers near Raton. The place felt abandoned. Nakai swallowed, wondering what the sarge had planned.
The sarge turned down a narrow hallway, and stopped halfway. He waited until Nakai caught up, then shoved open the nearest door, labeled storage.
Nakai met the sarge’s level gaze, unsure what was about to happen. The sarge hated him, Nakai knew that much. But not enough to lock him in a storage room in an empty barracks for fighting before lights-out. Something else was going on.
“Get in there,” the sarge said, holding the door open.
Nakai didn’t hesitate. He had no idea what the sarge had in mind, but he knew he could take him if he had to. The sarge was tough, but not that tough.
Inside the storage room only one lightbulb illuminated the space between boxes of toilet paper and a rack of brooms and shovels. The closet was hot, but not as hot as the hallway, and it too smelled of floor polish.
Nakai was all the way inside before he saw movement near the back of the closet. Colonel Athelry stepped forward as the sarge closed the door. Somehow that made the single bulb seem brighter. Athelry nodded to Nakai, then leaned back against some cases of bedding. He held two sheets of paper in his left hand, and even though he was staring at them, he didn’t seem to be reading them. It seemed like this was a staged scene, especially for Nakai’s benefit. Why, Nakai had no idea, but he’d bet he was about to find out. He snapped to attention, saluting.
“At ease,” Colonel Athelry said. “Sorry I can’t offer you a chair, son.”
“I don’t think the corporal minds, sir,” the sarge said. Nakai turned slightly. He hadn’t realized the sarge had come in with him.
Nakai stopped near the colonel and assumed the at-rest position. Nakai recognized the tone the colonel was using: friendly, wanting to impart bad news gently. This was not a good sign of what was about to come.
“Sorry to get you out so late, Corporal,” the colonel said, “but as you can tell, we didn’t want anyone to observe this meeting.”
&nb
sp; Nakai nodded.
The colonel stepped away from the crates. It was a signal that the friendliness was about to end. “Now, understand one thing, Corporal. This conversation goes no further than this storage closet. Whatever we tell you is strictly classified.”
“Yes, sir,” Nakai said. He didn’t add that there was no one he could tell, since Dietl, his only friend on the base, was dead.
The colonel nodded and glanced at the papers in his hand. “Preliminary testing on that ship we retrieved this morning has us worried.” He paused for a moment, then looked Nakai right in the eye. “You were right. It most definitely is not a surveillance craft.”
Nakai felt his breath catch in his throat. He swallowed before saying, “I was hoping I was wrong.”
“So were we.” The sarge had stopped beside Nakai and was also standing at rest.
“We believe,” the colonel said, “that the ship is a hostile combat vessel, and we believe that you did indeed run into its operator.”
Nakai felt his shoulders tighten. He didn’t like how this was turning out. But then, he didn’t know what they could tell him that would make things better.
“Were you able to retrieve Dietl’s body?” he asked. His people never abandoned the dead. He knew he would have to live with that action for a long time to come.
The colonel glanced at Sarge. There was something in that look, a communication that confirmed Nakai’s suspicions. The shots he had heard were the signs of a mission gone wrong.
“I’m afraid the retrieval team,” the colonel said, “ran into some resistance. We have others going out now.”
“Better make it a platoon,” Nakai said. Then realizing that he nearly made a faux pas, he added, “Sir.”
A shadow passed over the colonel’s eyes. Apparently, he had already realized that—too late, of course.
The sarge cleared his throat, but the colonel didn’t seem to take the hint. The loss of the retrieval team obviously disturbed him.
The sarge took a deep breath, and turned to Nakai. “The fact that this intruder got so close to the base poses some serious questions about our security.”
Nakai hadn’t even thought of that. He had been too concerned about Dietl, and the loss of the tank.
The sarge’s words seemed to break the colonel’s reverie. “Without his craft,” the colonel said, “I doubt that he’s much of a threat to the base as a whole.”
Nakai nodded, but didn’t believe the colonel for a moment. The fighter that had killed Dietl this morning would be a very serious threat to anyone. But it wasn’t Nakai’s place to argue with a colonel. He’d nearly made that mistake a moment ago.
“On the other hand,” the colonel continued, glancing at the sarge, “the pilot of that craft is probably anxious to eliminate the only person who can recognize him.”
Nakai felt his heart pump harder. So this was what they had brought him here for. This was the bad part, the reason the three of them were hiding in a storage closet.
“The sergeant and I have decided it’s best that you take that leave from the base.”
“Colonel,” Nakai said, frowning. “The intruder is armed with—”
“I remember what you told me, son,” the colonel said. “After we inspect Dietl’s body, we should have a better idea of what we’re up against.”
“But, sir—” Nakai said.
The colonel held up his hand. “Son, your being here may also complicate matters for us. Trust our judgment on this one.”
Nakai said nothing. He had been in the army long enough not to trust their judgment on anything. But he had also been in the army long enough to keep quiet about his lack of faith in the system.
“I’ve pushed through your three-day pass,” the colonel said. “It will take effect tomorrow morning.”
“We’ll provide transportation to the nearest bus stop,” the sarge said. “I know we can count on your confidentiality.”
Nakai said nothing. The two other men looked at each other. Apparently they had thought a pass would make him happy. They probably thought this was the easiest way to silence him. He could almost hear the sarge recommending the plan: Nakai’11 be so pleased to go that he’ll do anything we want. Hell, by the time he gets back, he’ll probably have forgotten anything strange had happened.
As if he could. But they hadn’t been in that desert this morning. They hadn’t known how close he had come to the same kind of instant death that had taken Dietl.
“Really,” the colonel said, “this is for the best, for all involved. I’m sure you can see that.”
Nakai said nothing. This was the best for them, of course. But it probably was not the best for all involved. In fact, he couldn’t think of a worse plan. He was the only one who knew how the intruder operated, what kind of weaponry it had—at least, he could guess that it was more sophisticated than the army’s, judging by those blue bolts—and he knew how quick it was. The corporal and the sarge had asked perfunctory questions this morning, but they hadn’t believed him. And now they were sending him away.
“You can see that, can’t you, Corporal?” the sarge asked. “That this is for the best?”
They wanted him to answer. They needed his verbal agreement. His silence was bothering them, just as it had bothered Danken.
“Yes, sir,” Nakai said, not wanting to get into any more trouble. He could speak up, of course, but it would do no good. They had already devised a plan. They had already made up their minds about this intruder, and they had already figured out a way to handle the problem.
So what if it didn’t work.
“Good, Corporal. I’m glad you understand,” the colonel said. He nodded to the sarge, then turned his attention back to Nakai. “You are dismissed.”
Nakai saluted, then spun and left Sergeant Coates and Colonel Athelry in the storage closet. He had to get out of there quickly before he lost all control and told them how stupid he thought their plan was. His best—his only—friend had died this morning, and instead of letting Nakai help them get vengeance for that death, they were making him leave. He would have been an asset to them, but they didn’t see it that way.
They saw him as trouble. They had always seen him as trouble. And, like always, they were wrong.
At a quick walk, he headed for the mess hall. He had a phone call to make before he tried to sleep. Alda was going to be surprised, and happy he was coming, even though, at the moment, he wasn’t.
8
It was said by our ancestors that the monster would come on the wings of death. Because the saying was in a song, for a long time my people thought it spoke of the past. We know now that it spoke of the future. Many things were not understood by my people. It was not understood by my grandfather, and those who came before him, just how much death one monster could bring. If it could not be understood by our people, it could not be understood by those who kept my brother from that which he was supposed to slay.
Under the darkness of the New Mexico sky, the night seemed like any other. The wild boar were snuffling in the dirt a mile from their previous hunting ground. The great cat that had hunted them the night before did not watch them this night. The death of the boar had reminded it that two-legged hunters sometimes killed cats, and it had decided to give that particular hunting ground a rest. It would return when the time felt right.
In a small copse of trees not far from the base, another hunter considered his prey. The hunter carried three skulls already, human skulls, and one tiny boar skull hung from his belt. He tapped his long nails on a metal device he wore on his powerful left forearm. The time was not right yet.
He would wait until it was.
Several miles away, in the yard of that base, Corporal Benson sat in a running humvee. The cool of the night air felt good. He liked New Mexico best in the dark. He was from Maine, and even though he had been stationed here for more than a year, the excessive heat still seemed unnatural to him. The only times he was comfortable were times like this. In the cool darkne
ss. He often volunteered for predawn duty. It was a quarter past five in the morning, and the sun wasn’t yet a hint in the eastern sky. The longer it stayed away, the happier he would be. The stars poked through the night-lights of the base perimeter, invading the sky above with faint reminders of how beautiful a night sky could be.
He stretched and wondered if he would be able to stay awake, even with the humvee rattling beneath him. The vehicle had a rough idle, and when he got the chance, he would take a look at it himself. He had already complained to the grease monkeys and they had looked at him as if he hadn’t known a thing about military equipment. Maybe he didn’t, but he knew something about cars. And this one, no matter what its designation, needed a little work under the hood.
Maybe he would start that work now. He had been sitting here long enough, and it would serve the corporal right to be forced to wait. Benson had to do something to remain alert. He’d managed only about two hours of sleep last night, due to a poker game in the barracks laundry room. The game was going his way, as it usually did among the amateurs here, but when he finally noticed the time, around one a.m., he realized he still needed to lose a few small hands before he left. He didn’t want the boys to figure out too soon that he knew more about cards than they did. So he played for another forty-five minutes, carefully giving back one percent of his take. Then he stood and made a show of being disappointed with the turn in his luck before heading off to bed. But he really hadn’t thought the day through. Now, with this transport duty followed by his new assignment of helping out in the hangar after breakfast, he was going to pay the price.
At least he was richer this morning than he had been at this time yesterday.
Benson stretched again, and then saw movement to the left. Corporal Nakai closed the barracks door behind him and headed down between the white stones that marked the front walk of “C” barracks. He was carrying a heavy duffel over his shoulder, and he did not look happy. Most men ran to the humvee when they were granted leave. Benson should know. He been assigned to the car pool for months, and had the unenviable job of shuttling anyone with a higher rank in and out of the small nearby town, at no matter what time of day or night. He was getting used to that rap on the door that signaled a new assignment. Fortunately, he had gotten this one before lights-out. If it had come in the middle of the night, he would have been hard-pressed to explain his absence from his bunk.
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