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Captain Ben Gibson had risen at four a.m., or at least as close as the U.S. Army could estimate four a.m. in Va’Sh’s 26-hour day and had started the morning with physical training. He liked running. It was the best way to clear his head, and he always felt better afterward. Even if he hadn’t slept well the night before, which was more often than he’d like, a good run always acted as a bracer, a way to prepare him for the coming day.
A few laps around the inside of Forward Operating Base Leonard’s perimeter fence didn’t account for any great distance, but he wasn’t quite ready to let people run off-post. Despite their seemingly stable relationship with the villagers of Pelle, Ben wasn’t about to run the risk of his people being kidnapped by Va’Sh resistance or worse. So, running the perimeter, with the guard towers and razor-lined “E-wire” that ringed the FOB, would have to do.
He nodded at a trio of Rangers who were running in the other direction. They all gave him a “Good morning, Sir!” as they passed. One of the runners, apparently sharing his thinking, had his M-31 carbine strapped to his back, bouncing uncomfortably against him as he ran. His own pistol, secure in its shoulder holster, likewise made running awkward. But it wasn’t worth the risk, in his eyes.
As he passed the clamshell mess hall, he caught sight of a hand-written sign fluttering in the breeze as it tried to escape the tape that held it to the front door.
WE HAVE EGGS!
The Air Force convoy, it seemed, had not only delivered a helping hand in moving the Va’Shen villagers. They had also delivered a load of eggs. Ben wasn’t sure how long they’d last, but he hoped there’d be enough for everyone to get at least one real omelet.
The Ranger commander came to a stop outside his hooch and opened the door. He quickly removed his running shoes and replaced them with shower shoes before grabbing his robe, soap, towel and shave kit and made for the showers. A few more Rangers saw him and wished him good morning before he was safely inside the shower trailer.
Turning the shower on, he once again thanked his lucky stars for the SeaBees and the hot water showers they were able to set up. A man can live without a lot of things, but that didn’t mean that he should have to.
Today is going to be a good day, he told himself. Hot water, fresh eggs, and a slow day at the office.
Yeah, he didn’t believe it either. But he wanted to. Unlike some of the other high-speed, low-drag operators in the Army, Ben had an appreciation for slow days.
Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped the towel around his waist and looked at himself in the simple mirror set over the sink. He tried on a smile just to see how it looked, but it didn’t sit right so he abandoned it. He shaved, taking his time, not in a hurry to start the day yet.
By the time he was done and had stepped back outside, there was a line at the mess hall. He wasn’t sure how many chickens there were on Va’Sh, but he knew there weren’t enough to give them fresh eggs all the time. He double-timed it back to his hooch, intent on changing into his uniform and joining the line.
Opening the door, he stepped inside, turning to close it behind him. He only barely noticed that the lights were on... and they shouldn’t have been.
<A blessed morning to you, Tesho.>
The alien words made him jump, his back hitting the door and shaking the entire hooch. His hand instinctively went to his right hip, but while he had been careful to make sure he had his pistol during his run, he had left it in his hooch when he went to the shower.
Fortunately, the realization that he wasn’t in danger finally found him as his eyes came to rest on the Va’Shen woman sitting on her knees on the wood floor of his hooch. She stared at him, perhaps puzzled by his reaction. Her long, violet tail twitched back and forth on the floor behind her. Unlike the last time he saw her, this morning she was wearing a teal and white dress reminiscent of a Korean hanbok with a wide belt like a Japanese obi wrapped around her waist. A pair of dark grey boots sat in the corner near the door.
Ben caught his breath and growled low in his throat. “Alacea,” he began, trying to keep his temper in check. The shock of unexpectedly finding a Va’Shen in his quarters stirred up very unpleasant memories in him, feelings that he was now trying to fight down as he addressed the vixen. “What are you doing here?”
Alacea looked at him, trying to discern the meaning of his words through his tone and situational context. Instead of answering, she rooted through the satchel she had brought with her and produced a clay pot.
<I cooked breakfast,> she announced, half proud of the statement and half concerned. In all the priestess’s life, she had only cooked for herself a handful of times. The rest of time she ate with the other Mikorin in the temple.
She took the lid off the pot and showed him the thick grains of lemess, Va’shen rice.
Ben looked at the white, mushed contents of the jar and tried not to grimace. Whatever it was, it didn’t look very appealing. The hope of fresh eggs was starting to disappear before his eyes. “That looks... great,” he said. “But you didn’t have to bring me anything.”
<There is also tea,> she continued, digging into her satchel again.
“How did you get in here?” he asked futilely. “There are big men with machine guns out there whose one job is to keep people out.”
Before he could hear whatever answer Alacea would give, a loud and urgent rapping came from the door.
Alacea watched as Ben looked back and forth between her and the door for a moment before turning and opening it. Although he intended to open it only a crack, the person waiting on the other side pushed her way in, oblivious to Ben’s less-than-clothed state. Seeing yet another female entering his hooch uninvited, Ben tied his robe more securely.
“No, LT, please, come in and join us!” he announced with a good bit of bite in his tone.
Patricia looked at him and suddenly realized, simultaneously, that her commander wasn’t dressed and that he wasn’t alone.
Alacea, for her part, watched Patricia warily, wondering about her sudden presence in her Tesho’s quarters. <Lady Patricia,> she greeted officiously with a bow. <You are here very early.>
“Sorry to... um... interrupt,” Patricia told them, though only Ben understood her. She turned to him, her face clouded with severity and dread. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
“It can’t wait for pants?” Ben asked her.
“I don’t think so,” she replied, eyeing Alacea, whose ears had flattened against the top of her head. “Please, Sir, you need to hear this.”
“All right,” he said, arms outstretched in defeat. “What’s the emergency?”
Alacea watched in growing annoyance as the two of them spoke, Patricia quickly and seriously, and the priestess was perturbed at being left out of something obviously important. She busied herself by pouring tea into two clay cups as she watched the Dark Ones converse out of the corner of her eye, trying her best to discern their meaning from their very alien body language.
Patricia was holding a book up in front of Ben, pointing at a specific passage as she spoke. Ben, for his part, made that loud, barking sound he made when amused, but Patricia went on, still very serious. Her Tesho’s face lost its mirth, and his skin began to pale as he snatched the book from Patricia and read through it himself.
The vixen sipped at her tea while they continued talking and planned her next move. After having an opportunity to rest and recover from their march from the hills, Alacea had been able to examine her situation more carefully, and what she found disturbed her.
First, there was, in her mind, very real doubts about the identities of the aliens who had invaded her world. Bearing almost nothing in common with the Dark Ones of their ancient history, the occupiers presented her with the possibility that they were something completely different and therefore completely unpredictable.
Secondly, she had made a critical error last night by allowing her Tesho to dismiss her and let her return to the temple. In her mind, this act was one of two things: a test of her oath to him or a sign that he did not believe their deal to be fully binding. If it was the first, then she failed, and he could argue that she was not living up to her end of the bargain made when he took her as myorin and therefore did not have to live up to his. This placed her community in a precarious position. If it was the second possibility, then it meant his intention to live up to his promise was only as strong as her intent to live up to hers. Again, making her people vulnerable to his whim.
The only way around both of these possibilities that she could see was to live fully up to her promise. She had traded her hand for the safety of her community, and that meant she must pay that promise in full. It would be hard for her, but her people were counting on her to be the perfect myorin for this invader.
She looked up as her Tesho raised his voice. He was obviously upset by something. Lady Patricia must have angered him somehow.
Her thoughts returned to her situation as they continued to bicker. The problem facing her now, and an insurmountable one at that, was how she, a Mikorin, was supposed to be a perfect myorin. It was true that Mikorin could marry, in fact some vixens became Mikorin with the hope of attracting a noble tesho. The problem was that Mikorin occupied such a high rung on the social ladder that only nobles could take them and so most remained unwed all their lives.
Alacea had only been a little girl when she lost her parents and had gone to live with the Mikorin after that. She had only dim memories of what her mother had done as Myorin.
She put a finger to her lip. Perhaps she could, in her role as Na’Sha, call a specialized aderen of myorin, a council of brides, who could instruct her. Her marriage, after all, was tied to the fate of the community and so it was a community issue.
Her ears twitched and her tail swept the ground behind her. Yes! That was a wonderful idea! Surely with the guidance of vixens such as Yasuren she would overcome her ignorance.
The argument by the door caught her attention again. Ben’s fingers were rubbing his temples. Such an odd practice.
Ben, however, knew exactly why he was rubbing his temples.
“This is a joke,” he said.
“I wish it were,” Patricia replied.
“How did this even happen?” Ben demanded. “What point in our interactions exactly could she possibly have confused for a wedding?”
“So,” Patricia began, clearing her throat nervously. “It must have been sometime before she started calling you ‘te...’ the word,” she corrected herself, not wanting to tip Alacea off to what they were talking about. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was probably when she bit you.”
Ben looked down at the mark on his hand where the vixen’s teeth had drawn blood. “But... why?” he asked. “I never said anything that would make her think...” He caught himself and turned slowly to stare at Patricia, who bit her lip and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I never said anything,” he continued. “Because I don’t speak the language.” His tone now was low and dangerous.
Patricia swallowed.
“Lieutenant,” he began, using her rank to highlight just how serious he was right now. “Are you one hundred percent certain about your translations?” he asked. “Was there ever a moment when you thought ‘maybe I’m using the wrong word here?’”
“Well,” she began. “I guess... I mean... ‘command’ in Va’Shen could be linguistically close to ‘propose’ or maybe something...”
“You did this!” he hissed.
Patricia held her hands up as if to ward off a blow. “Okay! Okay! This is probably my fault!”
“’Probably?!’”
“Almost certainly!” she corrected.
Ben rubbed his temples again. “What a mess,” he hissed. The Ranger took a deep breath and looked over at the vixen priestess, calmly drinking tea on the floor of his hooch. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s tell her and get this all straightened out...”
“Whoa!” Patricia cried, stepping between the two of them. “Just a sec! What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to tell her it was a mistake and we’re not really married,” Ben replied as if speaking to a child. “Because we’re not.”
“But to her you are,” she pointed out.
“Fine!” he retorted. “Semantics! Potayto-Potahto! We still have to shut it down!”
“You mean get a divorce?” Patricia asked for clarification.
“Exactly,” Ben said. “It’s just marriage. We get a divorce, no harm-no foul.” The familiar words sounded weak to him somehow but wasn’t sure why. It should be simple, right? Marriage is easy to get into and easy to get out of. It was that way on purpose. People changed their minds all the time.
“Okay,” Patricia said, leading him further into the trap. “And how, exactly, on Va’Sh, do you do that?”
“Well, you just...” He trailed off as Patricia’s logic trap closed around him. “I mean...” Again, nothing. “Well, there’s got to be some way, right?”
“And you base that assumption on what, exactly?” she asked him.
A choked laugh escaped his throat at the utter absurdity of his situation. “It’s... Wait, are you saying... Look, it was all just a misunderstanding! If we explain it, I’m sure she’ll understand.”
The trap became a noose as Patricia spoke. “Sir, she only told you where her people were after she bit you. Now, I’m not an expert on Va’Shen culture, but think about this for a second. In her eyes, you married her, and she told her husband a secret about her people. Now that you’ve gotten what you want from her, you propose to tell her it was all a big mistake? How do you think she’ll interpret that?”
Ben said nothing, the noose tightening around his neck.
“And it’s not just her we have to worry about,” Patricia went on. “She is obviously an important cultural figure to these people. She went to bat for us, kept that one hunter from killing Ramirez, argued our case for bringing them all back to the village... How do you think they’ll react when an alien invader uses their spiritual leader and then tosses her aside when it’s no longer convenient?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like that...”
“You heard what Ballard said last night,” she went on. “About what it’s like in the other sectors. What if the only reason we’re not taking fire from the mountains right now is that she told them to leave us alone? If they think you’ve insulted their spiritual leader, who knows what they might do?”
“So what the hell am I supposed to do, LT?” he demanded. “Stay married, buy her a house and a white picket fence in a good school district?!”
She held her hands up again, trying to keep him calm. “Look, I’m not saying stay married to her. I’m just saying that we have to be really, really careful about how we handle this.” She held up the book again. “I’m going to go to Jamieson and talk to this guy, Sinclair. He’s the leading expert on Va’Shen culture. He probably knows a really simple solution to make this all go away.”
Ben looked up at the ceiling in utter horror at the statement. “He also works directly for the three-star,” he reminded her. “You tell him I married a local and it’s going right to the general!” he hissed.
“I’ll keep it all hypothetical!” she assured him. “No problem! They’ll never know.”
“And in the meantime, I’m out an interpreter,” he argued weakly.
“I’ll leave you the book,” she promised. “It’ll be fine! I promise! I’ll be back in a few days max!”
He shook his head and growled. “What a screwed up situation,” he breathed. “This is a stupid problem to have, LT!” he complained.
“Well,” she said, “At least we’re tackling it early!”
“Just go,” he sighed in resignation.
Patricia put the book in his hands and opened the door to leave.
“Oh, and Sir?”
“Yeah?”
She gave him a nod. “Pants.”
“Right,” he muttered as the door closed. He examined the cover of the Va’Shen language guide and turned, freezing suddenly as his eyes lighted on Alacea and he remembered he wasn’t alone.
“Um...” He looked at the book again and opened it, hoping there was a guide for simple phrases, but after flipping through the thick tome for almost a minute, he concluded there was no simple answer here. “Look,” he said, shutting the book and tossing it on his cot. “You... um... You can’t stay here.”
Alacea, for her part, looked up as Ben spoke. Her tail slapped against the floor as she suddenly realized that this was the first time they had been alone together in an enclosed space... And her Tesho was only barely dressed. The hair on her ears stiffened, and she cast her gaze to the floor in front of her as he continued to speak.
The Dark One commander, her Tesho, said more in his incomprehensible language. She caught sight of his feet as he moved closer to her and realized it was more of his body than she had ever seen before. Was it time? Was he going to take advantage of their sudden isolation to cement his hold on her? He continued to speak, but she couldn’t understand. She closed her eyes, bracing herself. Yes, she suspected he wasn’t actually a Dark One, but that didn’t automatically make him something other than a brutish male.
She felt his hands close around her upper arms, and she squeaked reflexively, squeezing her eyes shut harder as he lifted her off the ground.
Great Ones, please give me strength to be a good myorin but also not weep...
He placed her on her feet and pulled her forward. She kept her eyes closed, determined to let him do what he wanted and then be done. She would be as good as she could for him, though she had no idea what she was supposed to do during the actual act beyond marking him and allowing him to mark her. The rest was a mystery, but she was certain that it would start with him throwing her onto his cot, so she tensed up, bracing for the impact.
Instead, she heard the front door open, and she was pulled into the fresh morning air.
Surprised, she opened her eyes and found herself looking at her Tesho as he stood in the open door. He held up a single finger, and then shut the door between them.
Alacea stood there in utter shock. She looked around as if unsure she was actually awake and not dreaming. Was he rejecting her? Throwing her out? Had she done something wrong? He had not seemed enthused about finding her in his den. Was she not supposed to come here? Perhaps in his culture tesho and myorin lived in separate rooms.
Her ears flattened and her tail swished against the dirt as she couldn’t help but feel a little insulted. Did he have no idea how much strength of will it took for her to submit herself to him? To add even more insult, her boots were still inside his den and she was now standing outside barefoot like a beggar girl.
She looked from side to side, wondering if she should just return to the temple, when the door opened again, and her Tesho stepped outside with her, now fully clothed in the same mottled green and brown uniform all the Dark Ones wore. He offered her her boots, which she snatched angrily from his hands.
Make up your mind!
“Okay,” Ben began, straightening his patrol cap. “So, I appreciate you bringing breakfast and all, but after what I just heard, I need fresh eggs and coffee. You want some coffee?”
“Caw-fee?” she mimicked slowly. She hurriedly put on her boots.
“Yeah, you’ll love it,” he said as he stepped past her. “Let’s get coffee.”
Utterly bewildered by her situation, Alacea fell into step just behind him and to his left, following him down the path toward the mess hall. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but he had said that one word with an air of reverence. Perhaps they were heading to the Dark Ones’ temple for prayers.
The idea both fascinated and horrified Alacea. As a holy vixen herself, she could respect a sense of piety, even in an enemy. On the other hand, if her suspicions were incorrect, then she was about to come face to face with the Dark Ones’ god. Who could tell what this dark, evil, malignant deity, this “Cawfee,” would be like?
She imagined a midnight-black furred demon with fire for eyes and horns protruding from every part of his body. Alacea shuddered. What dark rites would her Tesho perform for it? What if he wanted her to participate? The thought made her gulp. She could not betray the Great Ones whom she served!
They came upon a line of Dark Ones, and Alacea felt this enough evidence to confirm her theory. Obviously, this would be the line for their temple, the place where their community would come together and pray.
“’Morning, Sir... and... Ma’am?” a familiar voice made her ears twitch. Directly in front of them in the line, Ramirez and Burgers waited for their turn to pray.
“Good morning,” Ben returned tiredly.
“Good mor-neen,” Alacea repeated, offering them both a bow.
The line moved closer to a closed door. A few would enter at a time, and the rest would wait. The building was large, enough to easily fit a hundred people, further bolstering Alacea’s conclusion. Eventually she watched Burgers and Ramirez enter and the door shut behind them. She took a deep breath. On the other side of this door would be her first lesson in the spirituality of these alien invaders.
The door opened, and they stepped inside.
Four shiny metal basins lined the walls. She watched Ben step toward one and lift a handle, initiating a flow of water which he used to wash his hands. Alacea quickly mimicked him. Once done, he opened another door for her, holding it open and gesturing to her to step inside. She did.
The sounds of many voices speaking the incomprehensible alien language assaulted her sensitive ears. It took her a moment to become accustomed to it, and just as she had, Ben held something out to her. A large rectangle made of some weird type of grey wood.
What a strange rite, she thought.
He then offered her a knife and fork before picking up a set of his own and stepping into a new line. The priestess took a look around and found herself both annoyed and little relieved. This was obviously not a temple. A Dark One wearing a white hat stood behind a large buffet, scooping ladles full of food on the soldiers’ plates as they proceeded through the line.
She followed Ben. Her experience with Dark One food had been hit or miss, but not uniformly disgusting.
Ben caught the eyes of the mess private and nodded. “How are you doing on eggs?” he asked.
“Starting to run low, Sir,” the private responded. “It wasn’t that big a shipment.”
The Ranger nodded. “Okay, give me the powdered then, and some sausage and some bacon.”
“Powdered eggs,” the private recited as he used metal tongs to fill the captain’s plate. “Sausage and bacon...”
“Thanks,” Ben said. “Make sure your guys get some of those eggs, okay?”
“Will-do, Sir.” The private saw Alacea holding her tray in front of her. “Um... Sir? I’m not supposed to serve... um... indigenous personnel.”
“It’s okay,” Ben said. “She’s... part of the staff.”
The private nodded and turned to Alacea. “Ma’am?” he asked, for some reason assuming the vixen would speak English.
Alacea looked at the food and turned to Ben. She pointed at his plate, and the mess private nodded, putting together a breakfast identical to the captain’s. She bowed to the private and followed Ben down the line. The officer stopped at a large metal cylinder with a spout on the bottom. Taking a handled cup that sat next to it, he filled it with a steaming brown liquid and placed it on Alacea’s tray.
“Coffee,” he supplied. He filled a cup of his own and grabbed a handful of sugar packs and creamer cups before turning and heading for a table. The overwhelmed vixen followed him to the table and watched as he deposited his tray on it and pulled a chair out, taking a seat.
Alacea put her tray down and examined the chair. Like the horrendous vehicle, there was no place for her tail. Her ears flattened. Va’Shen sat on pillows on the floor, eating from much lower tables. If she sat on her knees at this table, only the top of her head would clear it.
Her ears popped up as she found a solution. She turned the chair around so that the back touched the edge of the table and mounted it, sitting on her knees on top of the chair, making her about the same sitting height as Ben.
Ben tore the tops off three sugar packs and emptied them into his coffee. Alacea watched and carefully did the same to the sugar and then a moment later the creamer. As he stirred the coffee with a plastic stirrer, she grabbed one from his tray and mimicked him. Watching him carefully, she perfectly emulated him as he raised the cup to his lips and took a sip.
Alacea made a sickly hacking sound and stuck her tongue out, trying to expel the very essence of the bitter brown beverage from her mouth. She grabbed up a napkin and rubbed her tongue with it as Ben closed his eyes and sighed, savoring the first taste of morning brew.
<Vile! Positively vile!> she cried.
“Yeah, that’s the stuff,” Ben sighed.
<How do you drink such a thing?!> she demanded. <It’s like it’s made from the distilled essence of suffering and disgust!>
“Best part of waking up,” Ben noted, deliberately failing to notice Alacea’s protestations.
<You are strange and disgusting creatures!> she accused.
“Oh, come on,” he said, responding to her tone rather than her words. “It’s not like I gave you decaf.”
Alacea took a deep breath and tried not to dwell on the lingering taste of the beverage in her mouth. She instead looked down at her plate and braced herself for the next challenge. She pointed at the lumpy yellow mass that sat closest to her.
<What is this?> she asked.
Ben closed his eyes and snapped his fingers, trying to remember the right words. <That... are... ‘eggs.’>
“Egguz,” she repeated. <What is this?>
<That is bacon,> he replied. She looked at him, perhaps for more description, but he had none. “It’s pig butt,” he said bluntly.
She looked down and pointed. <What is this?>
<That is sausage,> he told her. “Also pig.”
<Is it good?> she asked.
He looked at her in puzzlement. In response, Alacea mimicked taking a bite, then clasped her hands together and looked at the sky in bliss. <Good,> she said. Then she repeated taking a bite, but this time pointed at the coffee. <Bad.>
Ben smiled. <That is good,> he said, pointing at the sausage and bacon. He pointed at the eggs. <That is...> He stopped and held a hand out, waggling it up and down. “Eh...”
She took a small bite of sausage, and her ears flickered delightfully. <It is good!> she exclaimed.
“Glad you like it,” Ben said, taking another slug from his coffee. He watched the Va’Shen girl eat and turned his thoughts on his predicament. There certainly didn’t seem to be an obvious way out of the situation. He almost laughed at the irony. This was his second marriage to a woman he didn’t actually love, made for the sake of convenience, though, to his credit, he didn’t realize it at the time.
He wondered how she felt about the whole thing. From her perspective, he had forced her into a marriage like a conqueror who marries a princess to give his invasion an air of legitimacy. He was sure she must hate this as much as he did. Perhaps if he really did explain the situation to her, she would simply be relieved at finding out the truth and not having to put up with the pretense.
Patricia’s warning came back to him. It would be the height of human arrogance to assume that the Va’Shen held the same values as humans or that Alacea would feel the same way he did under similar circumstances. Their biology, physiology, brain chemistry, history, culture, evolution were so radically different that there was no telling what counted as “common sense” to a Va’Shen. That wasn’t an insult to them, it was simply a fact. In her mind, this situation could be the natural consequence of last week’s events. For all he knew, she was thrilled with this.
The thought made him feel like a jerk. It was like talking with Jess’s family, who had all been supportive of him following her death, treating him like he was the man who loved her. They didn’t know he actually hadn’t, and neither did Alacea. And he could not think of a way to rationally explain it.
So, his only hope now was that Patricia could find something at Jamieson he could use to extricate himself from his new domestic situation... without bringing down the rage of the entire valley on himself and his troops.
Christ, and it’s only Monday, he thought.
