Red Moon Rising

by K. A. Holt

  “Metal,” I say, wishing there were time to press her, to find out the truth. “At least I think so.”

  “Is this wounded person a child or an adult?” Aunt Billie turns to look at me, asking unsaid questions with her eyes.

  “An adult,” I say. “Adult Kihuut, not adult human.”

  She pulls two sealed packages from a drawer and hands them to me. “I do not know the physiology of the natives on this moon, so I cannot promise this medicine will work. Also, this medicine is very old, Rae. More than forty summers. And it spent some time buried in the ground while this room was fashioned, so it’s been exposed to high heat. This Cheese will have to take much more of the medicine than he or she would if it weren’t so old and potentially damaged. I’d say double the dose and hope that works.”

  I look at the packages: “500 mg twice daily, seven days” is stamped on the foil along with the seal of the Star Farmers Act. Little pills. That is all. Little pills that stand between the strongest man I know and the land of Ebibi.

  “If his fever has not gone after two days, then the medicine is not working and there is nothing to be done. You would be good not to give him more of it so you can save the rest for someone else. Some medicines work for certain bacteria, others do not. I am only guessing that this will help. If his fever begins to go away, continue giving the pills until they are gone, even if he feels better. Do you understand?”

  I nod.

  “Go now, before the storm worsens.” She puts her hand out, drops it, closes her eyes, then puts her hand back out and rests it gently on my cheek. I lean into it, despite myself. I relax a small amount at the feel of her callused hand. It is so different from the feel of Klara’s scales and claws, and yet, just as familiar. It brings me back to the homestead, to sitting by the cooling grate telling stories in the evenings. It makes me think of nightly prayers and helping make biscuits. It makes me remember tying ribbons on birthday gifts for Temple. It makes me remember my life before.

  I cannot leave without asking more questions. I cannot.

  “Is this the same medicine that saved the humans when you were young?” I whisper. “The same medicine that doomed us to this moon by not working for the infected people of the Red Crescent?”

  Aunt Billie’s eyes open and fill with tears. She nods.

  “And the humans released the germ on purpose?”

  “Only the true elders knew the whole story, Ramona, and they have all perished. From what I understand, they trusted the medicine would work on all humanoid life forms. Releasing the germ could only have been meant as a last resort, Ramona, for bargaining in case the people proved to be unwilling to share their planet.”

  “Well. The humans got a lot more than they bargained for, didn’t they?”

  Aunt Billie doesn’t smile. Neither do I. A moment passes. Then two. Natka gestures that we need to leave. I can hear the storm pounding outside.

  “Why are you doing this, Aunt Billie? Why give precious medicine to a Cheese? You don’t even know if he’s strong or weak, whether these pills will work at all.”

  “You brought back the baby, Rae. I will not betray your peace offering. And maybe by cooperating, we can show the Cheese that we are not who we were. If we cannot compromise, then life on this moon is without hope. That’s what I told Brother Livingston.”

  I nod, memorizing her hand on my cheek, thinking of that same hand braiding my hair, playfully swatting at Temple when she’d try to sneak biscuits before dinner.

  I do not know if I will be back to see these hands again. I feel like I know so much, and yet so little. I take a deep breath to steady my emotions. Natka has already turned to leave.

  “Rae,” Aunt Billie says. “Please tell Benny that I’ve never stopped thinking of him, that I love him dearly. And Temple . . . make sure she knows how much I miss her, how much I love her. And you.” She swallows hard. “As does your papa.”

  I nod again, unable to find my voice.

  “Will you come home, Rae?” Aunt Billie asks, barely above a whisper. “For good?”

  I don’t know what I shall do. “I must see that Fist is healed,” I say.

  “Will you see that Temple comes home, at least? She is still so young, so impressionable.” There is a deafening explosion outside.

  “I can only do what the gods will,” I say, my voice soft.

  Aunt Billie closes her eyes and smiles and I feel a terrible wave of guilt. I do not think we speak of the same gods anymore.

  She guides us out of the small room and back into the filthy wreckage. “Be careful, Rae,” she says.

  I grasp her in a tight hug. This time I am the one to kiss the top of her head.

  “I love you, Aunt Billie,” I say into her hair. “Thank you for your kindness today.” I pull back and swallow hard. “Please give my regards to Papa.”

  Aunt Billie nods, then waves her hand, shooing us away.

  “Go. Now.”

  I nod, walking briskly through the wreckage and back into the gorge. Natka blows his whistle and a few seconds later Kwihuu and Suu swoop into the gorge, landing at our feet. I jump into Kwihuu’s saddle and grab the reins. She nips at my feet.

  “Hey, girl, it’s nice to see you, too,” I say, flicking the reins and giving her a quick pat.

  Electricity arcs through the sky, raising the hair on my arms.

  “Rae!” Aunt Billie calls to me. “Keep your sister safe!”

  I nudge Kwihuu and we are in the sky, the Origin shrinking below us, the medicine for Fist safely in my hand, lightning flashing all around. I see Aunt Billie running to the cave. She disappears behind the fake boulder in a burst of wind and skirts and hair and it is a relief that she is safe within the rocks.

  Kwihuu pulls at her reins, asking to climb higher through the clouds. “You lead the way,” I shout to her, patting her neck. “You can outrun this storm. I believe in you.”

  But Natka is holding Suu back. “We must stay in Maasakota,” he yells between booms. “Let the beasts fly free. Storm will finish. Kwihuu and Suu will return for us.”

  I shake my head. “These storms can last for days sometimes, Natka. It will be faster if we just risk it and fly.”

  Natka snaps his bony lip angrily. He’s tired, I know. And worried. I am as well.

  I yell over the wind, “Please do not fight me. We can make it, kotan.” Brother.

  Natka snaps his bony lip once again, but I see a smile play at his eyes as he nudges Suu to move faster. “Gum ro-ri-ta kotani you are, Tootie,” he says over his shoulder.

  The Kwihuutsuu dart and dodge, making it above the clouds, the storm nipping at our feet like an angry beast.

  We have the medicine. We can save Fist. We just have to get to him.

  26

  WE ARE EXHAUSTED, FILTHY, WHEN the Kwihuutsuu land in the village.

  “Tootie!” It is Temple who runs to us first, ahead of a crowd of Cheese. She throws her arms around me and I hug her tightly. She steps back and hugs Natka. In the distance, I see Klara walking quickly toward us, coming from Wantosakaal’s cave.

  Natka and I, pushing aside our exhaustion and hunger, run to her, meeting halfway. Temple is right on my heels.

  I thrust the packages of medicine at Klara, and in between heaving gasps of air I say, “Two pills. Twice a day. If his fever isn’t gone in two days, the medicine will not work.”

  Klara holds the packages, stares at me.

  I open a package and take out a pill. I hold it to my mouth. “Two pills. One early in the day. One late in the day. Until there are no more pills.” I nod, trying to get her to nod with me. I put the pill back in the package and hand it to her. She peers inside, clacks her mouth.

  Then she grabs both me and Natka in a tight hug, her long arms crushing us together. “Totan,” she whispers. “Totan. Totan.” Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And she’s off
, taking long, quick strides in the other direction, back to Fist and Wantosakaal.

  Natka and I follow. My legs are sore and heavy, my eyes feel as though they are filled with dirt, they are so tired. And my stomach. Oh.

  As if she can read my mind, Temple runs up alongside us with bags of dried hashava fruit and bits of plini. Natka and I eat quickly as we walk, saying nothing. Temple slides her hand into mine.

  “I saw Aunt Billie,” I say when I have finished the fruit and meat. “She says to tell you she loves you and she wants you to come home.”

  Temple shakes her head. “But I am a captive.” She sets her jaw. “It is not my choice.”

  I laugh long and hard, the wind carrying my chuckles. I touch her hair, her mouth, her Kwihuutsuu-skin dress. I run my hand down the altered handbow on her fist, the knife at her waist. I touch the spiraled paintings that flow across her arms.

  “Of course,” I say, the laughter leaving me even more exhausted. “Of course, Kalashava, She of Sweet Scrub, you are a captive.” I squeeze her close to me. “As am I.”

  Natka steps in between us, throwing his arms over both our shoulders as we walk.

  When we reach Wantosakaal’s cave Temple nods and gives me one last hug. “Go to him. He has called out for you during these days you were gone. Klara told us how he missed you . . . and Natka.” She smiles at Natka, who playfully pulls at her ear.

  I squeeze Temple one more time and watch as she runs back to the center of the village. I enter the cave. It is just as warm and humid as before. Fist is still on the table, his scaly skin has lightened in color, his body has become more skeleton-like.

  Wantosakaal is busy crushing the pills between two rocks, making a fine powder. Aunt Billie did not say if this is okay, but I say nothing. Medicine is medicine, and however he needs to take it will have to do. Wantosakaal mixes the powder with a small amount of water and then drips it into Fist’s mouth. He grimaces at the taste and she holds his mouth shut, rubbing his neck, helping him swallow. His wound is covered with a poultice so I cannot see how it fares, though I suspect it must be even more gruesome than before.

  When he has taken the medicine, we all stare at him silently, as if it will work immediately. After a moment, Klara, looking elegant even in her exhausted state, looks up from Fist to me to Natka.

  “When I said supplies, I did not mean the kakee,” she says in a quiet, firm voice.

  I look to my feet, feeling heat rise up my neck. I swallow hard and look up, holding Klara’s eye.

  “I couldn’t just go straight to the Origin. I had no idea where to go. I needed to make a trade,” I say. Then I whisper, “I needed to learn more.”

  There is a long silence, then Klara nods once. She tells us how badly we smell and instructs us to go take a bath and a rest.

  I am more than happy to comply.

  When I wake, the Red Crescent glows in the night sky. How long have I been asleep? I sit up and my stomach growls angrily, telling me it has been a long while since the food from Temple.

  I dress, noting that I am alone in the cave, and jog outside. There is a small crowd around Wantosakaal’s cave, even though it is late in the night. My heart bangs until I think it will explode.

  Fist is dead. The medicine has not worked. Why did no one fetch me?

  I am prepared to push through the crowd, to fight my way into the cave, but when I arrive, the Cheese see me and part ways, creating a path. I run through them, and they pat my back, my shoulders, my ears. I burst into the cave, expecting to be knocked from my feet with the grief of Klara and Natka, but instead, I am met with shining smiles.

  Fist is sitting up on the table. Klara holds a steaming bowl to his lips and he drinks in slow, childlike slurps.

  “What . . . ,” I start, breathing hard from my running and panic. I rest my elbows on my thighs and dip my head to steady my breathing. I look up. “What’s going on?”

  “Kundastaal,” Fist says, the broth dripping down his chin. Klara reaches over to wipe the drips but he beats her to it, swiping his chin with the back of his hand.

  “Kundastaal,” she says, smiling at me, her eyes bright.

  “Kundastaal,” Natka says, clapping me on the back.

  “Breakfast,” I say, laughing. “Of course.”

  Wantosakaal brings me a bowl of steaming broth and I drink it down, feeling the salty warmth race through my veins, waking me up, clearing my mind. It is so good.

  I set the empty bowl on a stone counter and kneel by Fist. He puts a hand in my hair and kisses the top of my head.

  I search for the right words to express how I am feeling, when I hear a distant scream and the distinct zip-pew of a handbow.

  And another.

  And another.

  Natka and I are out of the cave like two bolts of lightning, running toward the sounds that clench my stomach. The crowd that was gathered outside of Wantosakaal’s cave is also running, buzzing in various pitches. They are worried just as we are.

  Up ahead I see fire glowing brightly in the red night; fire that is coming not just from the flames that are always kept alive in the center of the village. Small patches of light are scattered across the ground, as scrub burns in a haphazard pattern.

  As we run closer I see Jo locked in hand-to-hand combat with someone. I cannot see who it is in the dark.

  “What is this?” I yell as I run to the fighting. There are more hand-to-hand battles commencing in clumps all around the fire.

  My stomach drops. The Cheese are fighting humans. Ke’ekutaat. Invaders. Homesteaders.

  Cheese, with sleepy looks on their faces, peer from their caves, see the fighting, and then run outside. Men, women, warriors and nonwarriors alike, are fighting the invaders as quickly as they can find weapons. The Cheese are not dressed for battle—most don’t even wear shoes.

  I am momentarily struck dumb, just standing amid the battles, light arrows skimming my hair and arms. How did the homesteaders find the village? How did they get here? Did they somehow follow me and Natka? How could they? They have no way to fly. I fall to my knees, my face in my hands. So much for compromise, Aunt Billie. I take several gulps of air and steady myself.

  Well.

  They will get the fight they have come for. I am up on my feet now, pulling my knife from its sheath on my thigh. These ke’ekutaat, these invaders, they do not have a chance. I will not let this stand. Not while I have breath in my body. I will make it right.

  As I charge, my vision tunneling, my scream echoing from the rocks, I marvel at how many men stream into the village. Did they bring every gum able-bodied man from the township? More and more run out and begin immediately shooting and fighting. Fires spark up everywhere from light arrows and the scorching balls of plasma that shoot from the light rifles. I hurdle over burning scrub and throw myself at the first man I see, a man who is locked in fisticuffs with the woman Cheese who plays Oonan in the ceremonies. She is a worthy warrior and holding her own well, even though she is in a loose-fitting robe and her hair flies free. She probably doesn’t need my help, but I jump into the fight anyway, slashing and screaming. I hear only the clashing of weapons and the pounding of my blood in my ears. Slash, stab, pick up handbow from the ground, shoot, slash, search for Temple.

  Someone shoots a weapon that has a loud concussive boom to it, and for a moment the fighting ceases. Old Man Dan stands on a rock bench and shouts, “Who is the leader here? I want to speak to your leader.”

  There is no sound or movement, save for dozens of men and Cheese gasping to catch their breath. After a moment, Jo steps forward. Her hair, too, flies free, making her look wilder and bigger. She is sweating, heaving with breaths, scratched and scorched, but not terribly wounded.

  “I am the leader.”

  This is news to me, and probably Klara, too, but I keep my mouth shut as does everyone else.

  Old Ma
n Dan jumps off the bench and goes to Jo. He nods his head once and several men run to her. With a lucky kick, one of the men knocks the knife loose from her hand. They go in together, trying to subdue her, but she screams and lashes out with both arms, cutting each man across his cheek with her sharp talonlike nails. They stagger back, and she laughs, showing off her pointed teeth.

  The ke’ekutaat are angry now, clutching at their shallow wounds. After having shown her strength, Jo does not fight back as the men knock her to the ground and hold her hands behind her back. This, of course, angers everyone else and the fighting begins anew, with many of the Cheese struggling to free Jo, while Jo yells, “Naa! Do not fight! Let them take me. End bloodshed!” She knows it is suicide to continue fighting. It’s not that there are more men than Kihuut, it’s that they are more heavily armed and have had the element of surprise. They caught us while we were sleeping. And their light rifles and handbows outnumber our spears and knives and altered handbows. Their weapons are also faster to cause injury.

  Natka runs to Jo but is bludgeoned by a tall man whose name I can’t remember. He sells sweets in the market. Natka crumples to the dirt, bleeding from his head, not moving. Two men grab him by the arms and pull him, facedown, to the edge of the village. I squint and in the distance there are . . . horses? How did the homesteaders get horses out here?

  At this point, I am spinning in circles. I watch as Klara walks into the fray. Her strides are long, purposeful. She does not run, she does not hurry her movements. Men leap at her and with barely an acknowledgment of her own motions she gracefully crushes the heel of her hand into a nose, knocking a man flat, while at the same time curling her long fingers around the neck of another man. She never stops walking as she does this, leaving broken men in her wake. I have never seen Klara as a warrior before. It is a sight both awe inspiring and bone chilling. She possesses a grace and ferocity I do not think I could ever emulate.