Chapter 13

Without net, radio or even a local newspaper, information flowed through the area of operations at a snail’s pace. It was for that reason that, rather than ride back in the Light Tactical Vehicle had used to drive here, Ben opted to ride in the command seat of Tech Sergeant Ballard’s truck. Unlike most of the other soldiers stationed in Forward Operating Bases and outposts throughout Pelle, Ballard and his airmen travelled frequently and further afield than anyone else and so had picked up on more current events on the continent than anyone. Ben was determined to leverage this rare news source during the ride back to base.

“It depends where you are,” Ballard told him as he spun the wheel of his truck, loaded with Va’Shen luggage, to follow the truck ahead of him. “The further north you go, the worse it gets.”

“Why’s that?” Patricia asked from the back seat, peering out the windshield from around the gunner’s legs.

Ballard turned his head to answer her. “The nukes. Most places down south like here didn’t see much action, but up there it was Armageddon.” He turned back to pay attention to the road. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “The furries in the south aren’t fans either. Every so often you’ll hear a thunk where they throw rocks at the truck or stop to refuel and find arrows sticking in the sides, but the furries up north...” He shook his head. “Their hate is righteous.”

“Command said the Koreans and Slovenians were having problems,” Ben supplied.

“’Problems,’ Sir, is what we in the Air Force refer to as a ‘gentle euphemism,’” Ballard told him. “Guys in the northern Forward Operating Bases don’t dare leave the base in anything smaller than squads. Except for the U.S. sector up there. Run by a Major Keyes. That place is pretty pacified. Everywhere else is the wild west.”

“Attacks?” Ramirez asked from the other back seat.

Ballard nodded. “The worst are the ones with the laser guns. ‘Up-armored’ doesn’t mean shit to them. Saw one smash through three inches of steel plate, go through the engine block, and then through another three inches of steel and hit a guy on the other side.”

“Damn,” Patricia muttered. Warren had told her about the futility of wearing body armor against the Va’Shen, but to hear it described like this was terrifying.

“Must be why Big Army never sent us any tanks,” Ramirez hypothesized. “Big, slow and there’s no point to them if they can’t stop a round. They’re just big coffins that are super expensive to move.”

Ben nodded in agreement.

Ballard continued telling war stories. “Driving out of FOB Bastogne up north, we drive down this road that led between two hills. Corner of my eye, I see a bunch of shiny balls, like baseballs, rolling down the hill at the truck in front of me. Flash of light, I close my eyes for a second, and they hit the truck in front of me. Whole thing shattered into pieces no bigger than my finger. We couldn’t tell what was truck and what was human.”

“Glassers are a bitch,” Ramirez remarked coldly. The Rangers’ experiences with the Va’Shen hand grenades were the stuff of nightmares, and every soldier who had encountered them once lived in fear of them for the rest of their lives.

“All we could do was hit the gas and hope they were out,” Ballard said. He trailed off and didn’t say anything else for several minutes.

The truck’s cab was quiet for awhile, but finally Ballard offered them a smile again. “But driving down south ain’t so bad. You still gotta be careful, though.” He looked over at Ben. “Truth be told, Sir, when the Chief asked us to go give you a hand, I was pretty sure we’d be hauling back bodies, not luggage.”

“Whose bodies?” Ramirez asked.

“Yours,” Ballard replied instantly. “No offense.”

“Well,” Ben said behind an unsteady breath. “We’re hoping it won’t be like all that here,” he said. Despite the reassuring words, Ballard’s report shook him. It sounded like half the continent was facing an insurrection, and he knew for a fact the Army and the U.S. government was not going to be up for fighting a counterinsurgency campaign on a planet-wide scale.

He could say he was “hoping” it wouldn’t be like that with his area, but hope, as a strategy, sucked. Keeping things under wraps in Sector 13 would take work, hard work, and a willingness to take risks far from the watchful eye of command. Gibson mentally reviewed his actions so far and found them a mix of good and bad. He may have been too short-tempered with Kasshas, for example.

Under his own critical eye, he concluded that, so far, Alacea had been worth her weight in gold. He tried to imagine what actions he would have taken to find the Va’Shen villagers on his own if the fox priestess had not thrown open that door to Kasshas’s office a week ago. The only actions he could think of ran the full spectrum from bad to worse.

It was obvious to him that having a liaison like her could make a world of difference. He’d have to work harder to establish a closer working relationship with her.

Yasuren, too, seemed reasonable or at least practical. When faced with cold reality she hadn’t tried to argue herself into continuing to resist. As an advisor for Kasshas, Ben thought Yasuren could be an agreeable influence on the chieftain.

Bao Sen appeared to be the closest thing the Va’Shen here had to a militant authority figure. He wondered if every village was guarded or policed by a group of armed vixens or if that had come about for other reasons.

All in all, Ben thought he had been dealt a decent hand. All he had to do now was continue to draw good cards.

Easier said than done.

* * *

Alacea tried to keep her hair under control as the wind created by the truck’s movement down the road constantly threatened to whip the villager sitting to her right. Keeping a careful hold of it, she watched the scenery go by and rubbed her nose, made itchy by the foul stench of exhaust that came off the truck in front of them. On the way to the hills, she had ridden in the front vehicle and so did not have to endure the smell before. She wondered how the Dark Ones put up with it.

<What do you think they’ll do to us?> she heard from her right. She turned her head and found Pavastea looking down at the floor, her ears drooping in concern.

The Na’Sha’s ears flattened. They had all asked this question before and had heard the answer numerous times, but here, so near the end of their journey, the concerns came rushing back even more potent than before. It was easy for the Dark Ones to promise they’d let them go back before they had them corralled in their vehicles, and even somewhat easy for the Va’Shen to believe. Now that reality was within a few eben and getting closer by the second, the fear had returned.

<It will be all right,> Alacea assured her. <The Gods watch over us.>

She felt Pavastea grip her hand tightly. <Do you believe them?> she asked. <That they will not harm us?>

Alacea squeezed her hand.

The young songstress closed her eyes, but the tips of her ears slowly moved skyward as Alacea’s promise reassured her.

Closer to the front of the truck, Bao Sen and Yasuren spoke to one another as quietly as the wind would let them, as if there were Dark Ones listening to their every word.

Bao Sen was telling her. <With no one vehicle having more than one hardlight rifle. On your command or mine, they will start to shoot the Dark Ones. When that happens, you must lead the rest of the community away as fast as possible.>

Yasuren contemplated the Huntress’s words. Neither of them were soldiers, but it seemed like a sound enough plan to her in the event the vehicles stopped in front of a line of cages.

<But not before we signal,> she stressed to Bao Sen.

The Huntress responded with an affirmative, and Yasuren took a breath of stinking air. It was her hope that Alacea’s faith was not misplaced. She wanted nothing more than to climb down from this vehicle and run to her Tesho, to sleep in her own den and eat fresh food and know that her community was safe.

But these were the Dark Ones. And a Dark One who did not openly display his cruelty might just be a stroke of incredible luck... or he could simply be a Dark One who was much better at subterfuge than the average alien invader.

Either way, her hope was hers. It was not a strong enough thing on which to base a strategy.

a Va’Shen cried from down the bench. The rest of the Va’Shen craned their heads around to look.

<It all looks the same,> a villager near Yasuren noted. She seemed almost disappointed, as if she would have preferred to return to smoking piles of rubble. In a way, Yasuren sympathized. She had expected smoking piles of rubble. Smoking piles of rubble would make sense to her. The sight of intact buildings and grazing animals just made things seem more suspicious.

The approaching gate and newly constructed watchtower of Forward Operating Base Leonard gave them something new to look at and digest. As one, the vehicles stopped for a moment as the red and white striped wooden gate raised, and then they were moving again to the center of the collection of pre-fabricated buildings.

For the others, it was all new and strange, but for Alacea, who had lived in the camp for a short time, it was a relief. The end of the journey was near, and so far there were none of the indications of a last-second trap. Some Dark Ones milled about and watched the vehicles enter the center of camp, but no one raised a weapon or approached them.

They almost seemed afraid, or at the very least wary of the Va’Shen’s arrival.

Bao Sen looked about and noted the positions of armed Dark Ones like a hunter looking for the best-looking meat among a herd of datsu. She knew the other huntresses were doing the same. She looked up and found a Dark One looking down at them from the watchtower, leaning casually over the railing, his larger, black weapon pointed outward. It was a gross miscalculation, and Bao Sen promised to make the most of it by shooting him first before he could bring it to bear.

The doors of the various vehicles opened, and the Dark One’s leader approached their truck.

Bao Sen quickly amended her plan. She would shoot the leader, then she would shoot the sentry. As close as he was, she might be the best chance they had of decapitating their leadership from the outset.

The leader waved to some of the Dark One stragglers looking on.

“Hustle up! Give us a hand here!” he called.

The order itself was gibberish to the Huntress, but the reaction of the soldiers, their hurrying toward them, prompted Bao Sen to grasp her rifle as inconspicuously as she could.

Ben pointed at the trucks holding the Va’Shen luggage. “Start offloading the cargo.” He undid the latch of the truck and pulled the gate down. Holding up a hand to the first vixen, he gestured with the other to come down.

The eyes of every tod and vixen in the truck, particularly Bao Sen and Yasuren’s, were on him as the young fox woman gingerly held her hand out and let herself be helped down by the Dark One. Once she was safely on the ground, Ben turned to the next, finding himself looking up at Alacea.

Cognizant of the many eyes on them, Alacea quickly surrendered her hand and nimbly hopped down from the truck. She bowed to Ben.

<My thanks, Tesho,> she said, just loud enough to ensure the other Va’Shen nearby heard her.

Alacea then went to the other side of the truck and started helping others down. The villagers, unsure of where to go now, meandered near the vehicles as the other trucks unloaded.

Ben offered his hand to Bao Sen, who ignored it and hopped down from the truck on her own, rifle firmly in her own hands. The Ranger looked up and found Yasuren looking down at him. He offered his hand, and the vixen gave Bao Sen a look, noting that the Huntress was looking at her meaningfully. If it was going to be done, now was the time, while every Va’Shen could see her, while the other huntresses were still among the other Va’Shen and not separated from the others.

The noblevixen paused for a moment as everyone, not just the Huntresses, looked to her. She looked down at Alacea, who was looking at her as if sending a message with her eyes.

All will be well.

Making her choice, Yasuren gave Ben her hand and allowed him to lower her to the ground.

The Huntress was not sure whether to relax or tense even more after the vixen’s decision. She remained ready.

When the last Va’Shen was off the truck, Ben closed the gate and secured it. There was still at least one more trip to make in order to get all of them.

“LT!” he hollered over the crowd of milling fox people. He caught sight of the young Korean woman and beckoned her to come to him.

When she finally worked her way through the crowd, Ben gestured to Alacea. “We have at least one more trip to make. I’d appreciate it if Alacea or Yasuren or someone could stay here or even go back with us to get the rest so they don’t have to worry as much.”

Patricia nodded and turned to the two vixens. <Leader of fighters requests unto you you of one remain for sake of calming mind of others unyet arrive.>

Alacea took a moment to decipher this.

Yasuren’s ears twitched in affirmation, and Alacea turned to Patricia. she said.

“Alacea said she’d stick around,” Patricia told Ben.

“Great.” Ben turned and started toward the lead vehicle.

<Overlord,> he heard. Recognizing the word “Aridesho,” Ben turned and found Yasuren looking at him. <What would you have us do now?>

Patricia turned to him and translated. “She wants to know what you want them to do.”

Ben looked at the Va’Shen, mildly confused. The entire collection of fox people was staring at him, none of them moving toward their luggage, walking toward the gate or otherwise fleeing.

He turned to Patricia. “Do you need them to do anything?” he asked her. “Exit interviews? Intel debriefs? Stuff like that?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, it’s not like we don’t know where they live.”

The Va’Shen continued to stare at him, fully expecting some command that would formally begin their subjugation. At the very least, they expected a warning or restrictions on their movement. Perhaps a menacing threat or reminder of who was in charge.

Although the fox people didn’t laugh, the Va’Shen equivalent of a sinister laugh would not be uncalled for at this moment.

Instead, Ben looked at them and waved his hand over his head as he called out loud enough for all the villagers to hear him.

“Okay! Bye bye now!”

He turned and started for the LTV again, leaving two hundred bushy fox tails twitching in confusion behind him.

Patricia turned to them and clapped her hands together, offering them a broad smile. <Leader of fighters says unto you glad you to be returned to domiciles also to wishes for all be happy friends good!>

Pavastea’s ears flattened against her head, her tail whipping back and forth in agitation.

<What does that mean?> she asked no one in particular. She looked around her at the confused Va’Shen faces that surrounded her. <What does that mean?!> she asked again.

<It means we’re going home,> Yasuren told her, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. <Go get your things.>

Pavastea’s ears shot straight up, and she happily ran to the collection of luggage not far away. Bao Sen and Alacea joined Yasuren a moment later.

Yasuren released a breath she hadn’t been aware she had been holding, and the fur of her tail flattened as if the appendage was a balloon with a hole in it.

<What were you going to do?> Alacea asked her with a suspicious tone.

Yasuren turned to her, her ears flattening.

Alacea’s eyes were firm. She knew something had been afoot, but not what, and she was going to learn now.

Yasuren raised her fan in front of her mouth so that only her eyes could be seen. <Something I am glad I did not have to,> she replied. <And that is all I will say.>

The priestess looked at Bao Sen, who met her gaze with equal measure. In her eyes, she did not feel that she had to be ashamed.

Alacea released a breath and decided to let the matter lie. <You will see them all home?> she asked.

Yasuren’s ears twitched in an affirmative. <See to the safety of the others.>

<Do you want me to go with you?> Bao Sen offered her. <If the others see me with you, rifle in hand, they are sure to know that nothing bad had happened to us here.>

The idea made sense to Alacea, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the Huntress to have to deal with the Dark Ones alone with her. The priestess was already somewhat accustomed to them, and their actions did not alarm her as they once did.

<No, please see that Yasuren returns to her tesho safely. I will return to the temple as soon as I can.>

Bao Sen bowed in acceptance, and the two left to find their belongings.

Alacea took a deep breath. It had already been a long day, the latest in a long week, and it was only to continue for a few more hours, at least.

* * *

Ben caught Ramirez’s eye and pointed at the refueling station not far from them. “Let’s get these vehicles gassed up so we can go get the rest.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“All right, people!” Ben called to his troops. “Job’s not done! Refuel, grab some chow, and let’s head back out!”

As the Rangers milled about like ants with a mission, Ben saw Warren marching up to him. The senior chief gave the Ranger captain a salute and offered him his hand to shake. Ben took it warmly.

“Welcome back, Sir,” Warren said. “Looks like everything went well enough.”

“Mostly,” Ben told him as he started for the LTV where Burton was being helped out of the seat by two other Rangers. “One wounded, but not bad. Got another couple hundred Va’Shen to move. Thanks for sending the back-up, by the way.”

“No problem,” Warren told him, giving Burton a quick but concerned look. “Enemy fire?” he asked quizzically.

“Wildlife,” Ben replied. “Planet has a creature that spits exploding phlegm.”

“You’re joking!”

“Wish I was,” Ben told him.

“Yeah, me too!” Burton piped up from his stretcher.

“He’s not in any danger, but I want him out to Jamieson at the first opportunity,” Ben continued.

“The Air Force guys leave for Jamieson tomorrow if you think he’s okay to wait,” Warren supplied.

“Yeah, I think he’ll be okay,” Ben admitted.

“It leaves us without a proper corpsman,” Warren warned, using the Navy term for “medic.”

“Hell!” Ben replied loudly. “We didn’t have a proper medic before!” he called in Burton’s direction.

“Hurtful!” Burton yelled back.

Ben turned his attention back to Warren, biting his lip. Despite the joke, not having a medic definitely concerned him. “Let’s hope everyone’s Buddy-Aid training is up-to-date until he gets back.”

Warren nodded, his lips pursed and obviously no happier with the situation than the captain was.

“You going back out?” Warren asked.

“Yeah,” Ben told him. “Get the last of them and come back. Three hours, max.”

“Helluva first week, isn’t it?” Warren asked as he turned to go.

“First of many, probably,” Ben admitted. Warren turned to go, and Ben called to his back. “What day is it, anyway?” he asked.

The naval engineer turned and called back. “Tuesday! Taco night!”

* * *

It took just over an hour to gas up all the vehicles. By then it was coming to late afternoon. The sun would be going down soon, and Ben was eager to leave and get the job done and over with. Downing the last dregs of coffee from a paper cup, he tossed it aside and started for the row of vehicles waiting nearby. Patricia and Ramirez were waiting for him there along with all the vehicle drivers and commanders.

He gave a nod to the NCO, signaling him to begin the route briefing. It didn’t take long. It was the same route, same basic mission, same possible threats, same rally points. The only difference is that part of it would be after dark now. If anything, though, that made Ben more comfortable. The Rangers were used to moving at night. They owned the night...

At least... they did. They owned the night when they had working night optical devices, drone coverage, infrared scopes and a direct line to a reconnaissance plane overhead. Without those things, on Va’Shen home turf, the best he could claim was that they “shared” the night.

Still, any advantage was better than none.

The brief concluded, and the soldiers, sailors and airmen started for their vehicles. Ben opened the door to the LTV and looked around.

“Where’s Alacea?” he asked.

Patricia nodded in the direction of the truck behind them. “She’s in the back of the truck. Probably more comfortable than the turret.”

Ben nodded and bit his lip. He turned to Patricia again. “Take my seat.”

“Sir?”

“I’m gonna ride in the truck. You take my seat.”

“Oh! Um... Yes, Sir!” The lieutenant climbed into the front seat next to Ramirez, and Ben made his way to the back of the first truck in the convoy, shifting his rifle to make it more comfortable on his shoulder. Grabbing hold of the tailgate, he hoisted himself up and climbed inside.

Alacea looked up, surprised by the sudden appearance of the Dark One. Noticing it was her Tesho, she wondered if he had come looking for her, demanding her presence in another vehicle. Instead, he took a seat on the bench directly across from her and placed his rifle butt-down between his knees, putting his hands over the flash suppressor at the end of the weapon’s muzzle.

“Okay if I sit here?” he asked her.

She bowed her head to him. <Tesho,> she greeted, her eyes cast downward.

Ben sighed and shook his head. “I still don’t know if you’re calling me an asshole or not,” he said deadpan. He pointed to himself. “Ben,” he said. “Just call me Ben.”

<Ben,> she repeated.

“That’s right, ‘Ben,’” he said. The truck rumbled to life under them and the exhaust spewed black smoke. “Not ‘tesho.’ ‘Ben.’” He pointed to her. “Alacea...” He pointed to himself. “Ben.”

She pointed at him. <Tesho,> she countered. She pointed to herself. <Myorin.>

“’Myorin?’” he repeated the new word. The truck started moving, and the two of them quickly caught their balance on the wooden benches. He wondered what the word meant as it related to the other. “Master” and “slave,” perhaps? “Leader” and “subordinate?” “Man” and “woman?”

He sighed.

<You are very strange,> Alacea told him, holding up her hand. Fingers pointed down, she wiggled them.

Ben mimicked the gesture. “What’s this?” he asked.

<Yes,> she said. <Strange.> She wiggled her fingers again.

<Strange,> he repeated in her language. He wiggled his fingers again.

She snorted as her ears twitched in laughter. It made her eyes light for a moment. <Yes, you are strange.>

he said again, nodding.

<Indeed.>

They were silent for several moments. Finally sick of the silence, Ben pointed at the river nearby. “What’s that?” he asked.

She followed his finger. <River.>

<River,> he repeated.

<That... is... the... river,> she said.

<That is the river,> he repeated.

She clapped her hands quickly, and he smiled. “Okay,” he said. He pointed at the trees. <What is...>

<Trees,> she supplied.

<That is trees,> he said.

<Those are trees,> she corrected.

<Those are trees,> he echoed like an obedient parrot. “We call those ‘trees,’” he told her. “Purple trees... On my world, they’re green... except in autumn. Then they turn orange and yellow.”

“Purr... pole?” Alacea asked, her ears flattening. The word itself sounded funny. Like someone had swallowed a handful of glowbugs.

“Purple,” he repeated. He pointed at the trees. “Purple.”

“Purple,” she repeated.

“Yeah. Those trees...” He broke off and pointed at her hair. “Your hair. Purple.”

A light went off behind Alacea’s eyes. <Oh! The color is ‘purple!’ So what are the trees?>

He blinked stupidly at her.

<Trees?> she repeated, pointing.

Ben finally got the drift and gave her the English name.

Alacea’s ears twitched. “Torees.”

“Trees.”

“Trees,” she tried again.

He quietly clapped his hands together in little bird-like motions, mimicking her earlier praise for him. Her ears twitched again, unsure if she was being mocked. Ben leaned back against the railing and took a deep breath. “Aren’t we a pair?” he sighed. Alacea said nothing in response.

Her ears perked up as she suddenly remembered something. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the mini ka-bar he had given her the day before. Holding it in both hands, she held it out to him.

<You kept your word,> she said.

Ben smiled tiredly. He had a feeling he knew what she was saying. He waved his hand at her. “Keep it,” he said. “Souvenir. Besides,” he continued with a sigh, “Something tells me it won’t be the last time you threaten to kill me, so...” He shrugged.

Unsure of what he said, but noticing he was not taking the blade from her, Alacea withdrew the knife tentatively and then bowed to him in her seat. <Thank you, Tesho,> she said hesitantly as she put the knife back into her bag.

Perhaps I misunderstood? she asked herself. Maybe when Dark Ones wed they exchange weaponry and so I am meant to treasure it? She took a breath.

Dark Ones were strange.

If they’re Dark Ones.

That tickling feeling in the back of her head made her take another deep breath. Everything she knew told her it was a fanciful thought, but even so...

Nothing would flip the world about its axis more than that.

* * *

It was after dark when the last load of Va’Shen villagers arrived in Pelle. Rather than bring them onto the base, Ben had decided it would probably put them at ease if they stopped in the middle of the village, allowing them to hop off the trucks closer to their homes.

When the convoy pulled to a stop between the mayor’s office and the Mikorin temple, Ben looked up at the now fully-lit building in near-awe. The temple seemed to glow in a warm orange light, bathed by unseen candles inside and throughout the grounds. He reasoned the building could probably be seen for miles.

From her seat in the back of the truck, Alacea’s ears pointed straight up at the sight of her beloved home once again fully lit and occupied. She looked down as Patricia came walking up to the truck, smiling at the sight herself.

<Eyes acceptable!> she told Alacea.

<Beautiful,> Alacea corrected her.

Almost entranced by the sight, Ben continued to look up at the temple while the Va’Shen villagers climbed down from the trucks. He turned, having more felt than heard the presence behind him.

Kasshas and Yasuren stood before him. The two offered him a bow, which he clumsily aped in return.

Kasshas told him.

Although Ben still didn’t understand what Kasshas was saying, he did recognize a word.

“Myorin?” he asked.

Kasshas’s eyebrows furrowed. <Yes, my Myorin.> He gestured to Yasuren, who bowed deeply to him. <She has told me about your conduct.>

“Most trusted advisor!” His introduction to Yasuren came back to mind, and he smiled. Mystery solved. A myorin was an advisor, and so tesho must mean a leader of some type.

“Tesho?” he asked, pointing at Kasshas. He pointed at Yasuren. “Myorin?”

Kasshas looked at him as if he were dim child while Yasuren, remembering her deliberate obfuscation of her identity, hid her mouth behind her fan and looked away as if fascinated by something else.

<Yes... Tesho and Myorin.> Eager to move onto what he really wanted to say, Kasshas bulled past the question.

He looked around for Patricia, but she was helping one of the other soldiers on the other side of the convoy. Not able to translate, he took a guess.

“I am glad we could help,” he said slowly and simply as if that would be enough for the leader to understand. He held his hand out to the chieftain, who looked at it suspiciously.

“Well,” Ben said, lowering his hand, not wanting to push his luck. “We’ll get there eventually.”

“Sir!”

Ben turned to the sound of the hail and found Baird waving to him from the LTV. “That’s all of them!”

“All right, let’s mount up!” he called to the soldiers. He turned back to Kasshas and Yasuren. “You have a good night, all right?” He gave them a wave, glad to see the day over.

The two bowed politely to him.

<Tesho.>

He turned and found Alacea standing there.

Ben sighed in relief as Patricia finally appeared. He waved her over and turned back to Alacea.

“Thank you very much for all of your help,” he told her.

<Leader of fighters provides unto you gratitude for assistance provided unto him by yourself,> Patricia translated.

She bowed to him. <Of course, Tesho.>

“It’s been a long day,” Ben said. “So what do you say we meet tomorrow and maybe talk about how we can... I don’t know... do more to help or... Patricia, you know what I want to say,” he finally finished.

Patricia nodded. <The day’s light endured long,> she told Alacea. <Leader of fighters prompts unto you find rest and bring us together once more when the day’s light is again alight.>

Alacea’s ears flattened as she tried to divine the meaning behind the poor grammar.

<You... do not want me to come with you?> she asked.

Patricia didn’t bother translating for Ben, fielding the question herself. <No. Rest. Come meet unto us once more when the day’s light is again alight.>

The priestess’s eyes narrowed. Her Tesho wanted her to stay at the temple, not in his den? Or... was it the female Dark One just telling her that?

Truth be told, it didn’t matter. All she wanted at that point was to sleep in her own den, in her own temple, surrounded by her friends. Whether a mistake in language or culture or some other unknown motivation, the Dark Ones had given Alacea an opportunity to do exactly what she wished to do, and so she decided to take it. She could think things over in the comfort of her own home later.

She bowed. <If that is what you wish, Tesho. I will seek you out tomorrow.>

The meaning behind her words was obvious, and Ben bowed to her. “Thanks again, Alacea.”

The priestess gave them both a look, one of confusion to Ben, one of suspicion to Patricia, and started up the temple steps.

Ben turned to Patricia and blew out a tired breath. “Let’s go home.”

The two started for one of the vehicles nearby, but before they could go more than two steps, Patricia snapped her fingers and stopped.

“Shoot! I was going to ask about the ‘tesho’ thing,” she said, turning to go wave down Alacea again.

“Don’t sweat it,” Ben said. “I already got it. ‘Tesho’ is ‘leader,’ and ‘myorin’ is advisor. Yasuren and Kasshas have the same thing.”

“That makes sense,” Patricia agreed with a smile. “See? I told you it wasn’t an insult.”

“Man, that was just going to bother me,” he told her with a sigh. They started walking toward the LTV again.

* * *

Alacea spent almost two hours checking on the other Mikorin and saying hello, assuring them that she was safe and would be spending their first night back in the temple with them. The young priestesses were overjoyed by the return of their Na’Sha, and for the first time in a long time, they felt like things were back to normal, regardless of the Dark One camp just up the road from them.

By the time the priestess had finally made it to her own den on the temple’s second floor, it was almost midnight. Taking a small cup of water, she poured it into the firestone lamp next to her bedding and watched as the rocks inside started to glow, filling her room with a soft, warm light.

The last time she was here, she was so upset by the events happening around her that she had been unable to fully appreciate the ramifications of her actions. Now, days later, with a return of some semblance of normalcy, those thoughts finally fought their way to the fore, demanding their turn.

She sat on her knees in front of her mirror and absently picked up her tail brush. She gave her lavender tail a few strokes, her mind on autopilot, until her eyes came to rest on the small painting she kept next to the mirror.

Alacea looked at the eyes of the young tod who dutifully looked back at her. The fur of her tail went slack, retreating from the brush, and her ears flattened fully against her head until they were almost invisible against her hair.

She closed her eyes and spoke to the tod in the painting.

* * *

Ben didn’t bother undressing. He simply shrugged off his tactical vest and web gear, hung his pistol belt on the corner of the cot where he could reach it easily and fell onto the scratchy green blanket and flattened pillow.

He was going to sleep tonight. He was too tired not to. Any bad dreams or nightmares were going to have to wait until tomorrow night.

The exhausted man rolled onto his side and grunted as he felt the miscellaneous garbage he kept in his pants pockets stick into him. Growling, he got up and emptied them onto the foot locker at the foot of his bed, his impromptu night stand.

He paused as, along with the pens, ID cards and notes, a folded piece of paper hit the top of the foot locker.

Ben stared down at it as if it had appeared from nowhere and had no idea what it was or where it come from. He took a breath. He hadn’t unfolded it since he had printed it off on the Neil Armstrong. It had been a sudden, last minute whim. He wasn’t even sure why he had done it. He just knew that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have another chance. He’d never see it again.

But now he wasn’t even sure he wanted it.

He reached for it, stopped for a moment with his hand in the air, and then quickly snatched it up. His fingers curled tightly around it as if trying to squeeze the memories out... or perhaps the pain.

Ben took a breath and quietly admonished himself. He was a Ranger for Chrissakes.

His fingers slowly uncurled and he gently took the corner of the paper with his other hand, slowly unfolding it. When the otherwise normal piece of eight-by-ten printer paper was fully unfolded, he looked down at it and bit his lip.

Ben’s own smiling face looked up at him, a beer bottle in one hand and his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the other person in the photo, a pony-tailed blonde making a ridiculous duck-face at the camera.

Tears came to his eyes. He remembered the exact moment the photo had been taken in their favorite bar an hour after their trip to the post office, their “wedding” photo.

He fought the tears back and took a breath before gently, almost reverently, propping the piece of paper up on his foot-locker like a framed photograph. The widower stared down at it for another few moments, as if unsure what was supposed to happen now.

What happened was nothing.

He reached up and took hold of the string that connected to the dim sixty-watt light that illuminated his hooch.

“’Night, Jess,” he whispered and pulled the string, filling the room with darkness.

* * *

Patricia yawned as she shouldered open the door to the pre-fabricated command office, letting the flimsy plastic door shut behind her and being very careful not to spill her coffee. She hadn’t gotten much sleep, but she had decided to rise early and get to work anyway so she could finally get her desk arranged and ready to roll by the time Captain Gibson got there.

Between their arrival, searching Pelle for the villagers and pursuing them into the hills, none of the new officers had had time to get their offices situated. But hopefully, now that things were finding normalcy, she could get her things arranged and start the normal work of an intelligence officer.

She didn’t know what Gibson’s battle rhythm was going to be. When he would want briefings, or what he would want to see in them. Also, without computers that meant no presentation software. Everything would have to be done by hand. Mark One pencil.

Putting her coffee down, she nearly missed the small plain brown parcel sitting on her desk with her name and duty title stenciled on it. She picked it up and examined it. It had weight to it, and she guessed it was a book of some kind. It had most likely been delivered by the same Air Force convoy that had come to help yesterday.

Tearing the paper off, she saw the plainly typed military style title page and grinned. “Yes!” she hissed almost diabolically, her eyes lighting up as she read the words.

U.S. Army Intelligence Va’Shen Vocabulary List – Version 3

There was a typed letter resting inside the cover. She took it out and read over briefly.

ALCON,

Please find enclosed with this letter the latest version of the Va’Shen language vocabulary list. This list has been validated by CJTF-OUR CJ-2 and the Va’Sh Cultural Affairs Office and is considered the most up-to-date and accurate list available. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to me at Jamieson Airfield.

Sincerely,

Dr. Everett Sinclair, GS-15

Va’Sh Cultural Affairs Officer

Combined Joint Task Force

Operation Unified Resolve

Patricia flipped through the reference like a little girl with a new book she had been waiting to come out for months. A cursory examination showed that it did, indeed, include many new words she hadn’t known... that no human had known... until now. The Cultural Affairs Office must have worked overtime to get a list together so fast.

On a whim, she flipped toward the back end of the book, curious to see if the captain’s mystery word had, in fact, been correctly identified. She found the “T” section and flipped a few more pages.

Then stopped.

Her smile fell.

Her eyes widened.

Tesho – (n) Husband. Can be used as common or proper noun depending on context.

“Oh no,” the rapidly paling translator breathed. She quickly flipped to the English section and found the “H” section.

Husband – (n) Tesho.

“Oh, shiiiiiiiiiit!” she hissed. She flipped back to the Va’Shen section and found the “M’s.” It took her a few minutes of looking as she wasn’t certain of the exact spelling, but she finally found it second from the bottom.

Myorin – (n) Wife. Can be used as common or proper noun depending on context.

She gently closed the book and tossed it on the desk.

“Well,” she whispered. “Shit.”

To be continued...