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Coming out into the light for the first time in two days, Ramirez blinked at the glare of Bellatrix’s sunset. When they had finally adjusted, he found a barren field with almost a hundred Va’Shen standing in straight rows, each six feet apart. A woman in a Marine uniform was moving from one to the next, looking them up and down and testing limbs for injuries. They walked past her as she was examining a Va’Shen commando with an ear cut off.
Alzoria recognized him immediately and screamed at him. “ASSU-HORL!” Sayuno jumped in startlement and turned his face away from the prisoners and their escort.
Ramirez turned and gave Burgers a look that screamed “told-you-so.” Burgers shook his head.
They turned attention back to the front as Ben and Bao Sen walked toward them. Alzoria broke from the group and ran up to the other Huntress, grabbing her in a hug.
Ben and Ramirez looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Ramirez held his arms out for a hug.
“Oh no!” Ben yelled at the NCO. “No hugs for you! What did I tell you, huh?! And did you get any tasty animals?!”
“No, Sir,” Ramirez replied, looking down at the ground.
“And who ended up being the tasty animal?!”
“I did, Sir,” Ramirez sighed again.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked, his voice softening.
“Bit banged up, bruised ribs, maybe,” Ramirez said, gingerly touching his chest. “Nothing to get worked up about.”
“DOC!” Ben yelled.
The woman they had passed earlier turned and trotted up to them. Ben gestured to Ramirez. “Would you check Ramirez out?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Fletcher replied, taking Ramirez by the arm.
As they walked away toward the forest where the Rangers had spent the last day, Ben called after them. “IF YOU CAN’T FIND HIS BRAIN, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT! ARMY DIDN’T ISSUE HIM ONE!”
“I love you too, Sir!” came Ramirez’s voice in reply.
Ben growled. Alzoria followed his gaze, her tail twitching lazily. “Dooshbog,” she noted.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Ben replied.
* * *
It turned out that dinner was going to be a problem. The commandos had been critically low on food for weeks, and that problem didn’t go away just because they surrendered. Ben had sent a truck back to Pelle to bring back food, but it likely wouldn’t return until the morning. In the meantime, Bao Sen, Alzoria and the other two Huntresses had gone into the woods to bring back game. Until they returned, they made do with what they had on-hand.
Sitting beside a newly-built campfire, Patricia jumped as a plastic rectangular package arced through the air, just barely catching it.
“Bon appetit,” Ben said as he sat down across from her, tearing open an MRE of his own. “You want red wine or white?”
“Thank you!” the interpreter gushed. “I am starving!”
“What kind of soldier goes outside the wire without food?” Ben asked in mock disappointment.
“Hey, I thought we were just giving Alacea a lift!” she cried. “I didn’t think it’d be an all day thing.”
As if speaking her name was a magic spell, Alacea appeared near the fire, kneeling down to Ben’s right. Without being asked, Ben scooped half his tortellini into an empty MRE bag he had kept from earlier in the day and handed it to Alacea.
The priestess took the food gratefully and gestured to another Va’Shen nearby to join her. Hestean sat down next to her and looked at the Dark One food suspiciously.
Seeing another person at the dinner table, Patricia searched in her MRE and came back with a container of macaroni and cheese. She opened it and offered it to Hestean.
<Is it safe?> Hestean whispered to Alacea as she reached out hesitantly to take the brown package.
<I cannot guarantee its flavor,> Alacea told her. <But the ones I’ve had so far have been safe.>
Patricia caught Ben’s eye as Hestean took the MRE from her. “What about the others?” she asked.
“Others?”
“The Va’Shen soldiers,” she elaborated.
“Hopefully, that field kitchen will be here by morning,” Ben said, scooping some cold tortellini into his mouth.
“What about tonight?” Patricia asked.
“What about it?”
“Well... they’re hungry,” she explained as if to a child. “Shouldn’t we...”
“Be hungry in solidarity?” Ben asked as he chewed. “No.”
Patricia thought on this cold answer for a moment. “It just seems mean,” she finally commented.
“Then next time don’t shoot at my people,” Ben said with finality. “We’re doing what we can for them. We don’t owe them more than that.”
The other officer sighed and looked at the other campfires spread throughout no-man’s land. “I guess it all worked out, then.”
Ben took a look over his shoulder, then another look to his left and right. Only after he was convinced there was no one nearby who spoke English did he turn back to Patricia and asked as casually as possible, “What did your doctor friend say?”
“Huh?”
The Ranger commander gave her a frustrated look. “About...” He cocked his head toward Alacea, who was sampling Hestean’s macaroni while the Mikorin historian tentatively tried tortellini.
“Oh! That!” Patricia took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. “Well, there’s a long version and a short version,” she began. “The Va’Shen culture when it comes to marriage is simplified in many ways, including its finality. Once a Va’Shen couple marries, they are considered married for the remainder of their lives and even past that, and if there is a way to annul a marriage, Dr. Sinclair hasn’t happened on it yet.”
Ben took a breath as he digested that. “Okay, what’s the long version?” Perhaps there was something they missed that he might catch.
“That was the long version,” Patricia told him. “The short version is: ‘You’re married forever.’”
“Well, that’s just great.” Ben threw his empty tortellini package into the campfire in frustration. “That’s it? That’s all we got to go on?”
Patricia lowered her head, ashamed that she hadn’t been able to find more. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she said. “There’s just so much about them that we don’t know. We don’t even know how many languages they have, forget customs.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not your fault... well... it is a little.” Patricia winced. He wasn’t wrong. He looked over at Alacea and Hestean, chattering amongst themselves. “I guess I just need to come clean.”
Her earlier thoughts and the conversation she had with Alacea before flying to Kar’El came back to her. “Sir... I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“You think it would be better to make this girl think we’re married?” he asked bitterly.
“With all due respect, Sir, you don’t think you’re married. You are married,” she replied. “And after what I learned from Dr. Sinclair, even if you confess, you’ll still be married. The only thing it’ll change is that she goes from being helpful and saving lives to hating our guts and bringing the entire village along for the ride.”
“You’re telling me this is a force protection issue?” he asked, amazed.
“It kind of is,” she said. “Right now, her influence is contributing to the safety of our people. Take that away or push it in the other direction and it’s very possible someone could get hurt, maybe killed. I know it sucks, and I’m sorry. But if ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ doesn’t work in our culture, I can guarantee it’s not going to work here.”
“What about the Army?” he asked.
Patricia weighed the question for a moment. “Well... did the Army say you couldn’t marry her?”
He gave her another “are you kidding me?” look. “No, they didn’t, because no one in a million years would have considered it possible.”
“Well, that’s their fault,” she replied. “Under the law, they can’t prevent you from marrying whoever you want. It’s protected by the Seventy-Third Amendment.”
“I didn’t want to marry her,” he pointed out.
“Sir,” she went on, “I don’t think any of it matters. It’s done. If the Army finds out, the first thing they’re likely to do is pull you off-world and let everyone at the FOB deal with the aftermath. And that’s if they care at all.”
Ben listened as his intelligence officer continued.
“Hell, Sir, half the nations in the Coalition won’t even classify the Va’Shen as people,” she said. “Most of the people on Earth just see them as alien monsters who commit mass murder. They don’t care if you accidentally participated in some primitive ritual and now one of them thinks you’re married. It can’t be undone, so we need to decide how to move forward from here.”
Ben stroked the five o’clock shadow on his chin in thought. Patricia made a lot of sense. When the war began, there were demonstrations on Earth, people waving signs, decrying the U.S.’s “militant behavior” toward the only other intelligent life forms in the galaxy. So, of course, Congress got into it too, demanding investigations into every engagement the Department of Defense had with the Va’Shen.
Then they dropped an asteroid on Persephone.
Once people realized that the Va’Shen could destroy worlds and do it just as easily to their homes on Earth as they could to a distant space colony, the tone changed. Suddenly the war wasn’t a misguided military adventure set up by “the corporations.” It was a war for survival against a hostile race of inhuman monsters.
They were okay with wiping out inhuman monsters. Especially inhuman monsters who could harm them. In the space of a day, the Congressmen demanding the Army find peaceful solutions and non-violent ways to counter the Va’Shen were suddenly approving funding for planet-killing weapons research and the use of nuclear and chemical weapons, none of which the Defense Department had even asked for.
And Patricia was right. Even the U.S. was wavering on the personhood of the Va’Shen. Not specifically for racist reasons, but for a much more American one. If the Va’Shen were people, they had standing in an international court, which meant they could sue the U.S. for the six nukes dropped on their northern cities. Covering one’s ass was practically an American art form.
So, if Alacea wasn’t counted as a person, could they really be married? It wasn’t as if marriage was a big deal. It was harder to get a driver’s license. He’d probably get more heat from the IRS over it than he would the DoD.
If that was the case, who, aside from him and the Va’Shen, would even care?
He shook his head. It was unethical. He knew she wouldn’t have married him without the threat against her people hanging over her.
But now, according to Patricia, the tables were turned. “Marry me, or I’ll kill your people,” had become, “Divorce me, and I’ll kill yours.”
“Okay,” Ben sighed. “What do I do?”
Patricia took a breath. “I guess... we... wait,” she said. “Wait until we know for sure how she would take it or how you can get out of it. Right now, without knowing more, there’s a threat there.”
“Ask her,” he said, pointing at Alacea. “Be cool about it but ask her.”
She sighed and turned to Alacea. <Inquiry,> she said. <Unified tod and vixen complete when how?>
Alacea shared a puzzled look with Hestean. <I don’t understand the question,> she replied.
Patricia tried to reword it. She pointed to herself. <Vixen...> she pointed to Ben and bit her own hand to demonstrate what Alacea had done to him. <No desire unified...um...to future. Action?>
Alacea thought she understood the question. Her eyes narrowed and her ears flattened against her scalp.
<No.> she said, staring right at Patricia.
Patricia blinked, startled by the sudden change. <No... do...>
<No!> Alacea spat. <Leave our presence!>
Ben looked from one to the other, noticing the sudden plunge in temperature among the group.
The interpreter looked stunned. <Alacea...>
Alacea hopped to her feet and pointed away from the fire. <Leave now! You will not endanger my marriage! Leave!>
Patricia swallowed and rose slowly to her feet. “Sir, the question really agitated her, and she wants me to leave. I think it might be better if I...”
“Yeah, I get it,” Ben told her. “Go on. We’ll talk later.”
“Yes, Sir.” Patricia smiled Alacea, who continued to glare, and slowly walked away from the fire.
Once she was certain Patricia was gone, Alacea knelt next to Hestean again and picked up her food.
<Are you all right, Na’Sha?> Hestean asked.
<I am,> Alacea told her, her ears not quite digging into her head anymore. <The nerve of that Dark One,> she muttered. <Asking a tod’s myorin if she can join their marriage! Like she has no idea of my situation...>
<I thought you asserted your rights admirably,” Hestean commented.
Alacea wasn’t so certain. Her admittedly novice political side tried to interpret what had just happened. If she had been graceful and allowed the Dark One to simply do as she pleased, it could undermine her position as the Overlord’s Myorin. It was possible that the Overlord had even set it up to test her dedication to their arrangement. For the sake of her people, she had to make sure that her position and the power that came with it was not diluted. That meant she had to strenuously object to her Tesho having a concubine while concealing why. She wished Yasuren were there to advise her.
The drawback to her situation is that a concubine could perform the more... personal... activities she did not care to do. If she would not allow the Overlord a concubine, then she would have to make sure he did not want for those activities herself.
She looked at Ben, the hair on her ears rising. His appearance was not hideous, but also very much not “right.” With no ears or tail, it was nearly impossible for her to divine his thoughts or his emotional state. But if she pretended that he had lost his ears and tail in a farming accident, she could almost convince herself he was Va’Shen.
That would have to be sufficient, she thought. She doubted he would accept her placing a sack over his head.
The priestess found it odd she could think such things so calmly. Not long ago she lived in absolute terror at the thought of what the Dark One would do to her. After a few days spent in his presence, she found the fear ebbing.
Hestean looked over at her and saw her concerned eyes on Ben, who was drinking from his canteen. She leaned over and whispered.
<If you are concerned, Na’Sha,> she said quietly, <I can leave, and you can assert yourself with him to prevent his temptation.>
<Hestean!> she gasped. <What are you suggesting I do!?>
<I’m sorry, Na’Sha!> Hestean cried. <I just thought...if you were worried he may be tempted by another vixen... you would...>
<Why would such a thing even be considered acceptable for conversation?!> Alacea groaned, her tail whipping about in embarrassment.
<I apologize, Na’Sha,> Hestean said with a deep bow. <I... I am ignorant of such things...>
Alacea took a deep breath. It wasn’t Hestean’s fault. She was just trying to help, which, in itself, was a good sign. It wasn’t long ago that her skepticism over Alacea’s actions had led to friction between them. And, in total truth, Alacea was just as ignorant about such things. Perhaps her earlier idea for a special aderen of married vixens was a good one after all.
She looked up and found her Tesho looking at the two of them with one of his eyebrows raised.
<I think you scared him,> Alacea whispered to Hestean.
Thinking quickly, Hestean reached out and offered him what was left of her macaroni and cheese as a gesture of friendship.
Ben looked at the two of them, puzzled by their behavior, and shook his head. “Um... no thanks. I’m good.” He gestured for her to keep the macaroni.
The Ranger rubbed his forehead with his free hand. He was never going to understand this place.
* * *
“Hey, there, how you feeling?” Fletcher asked, kneeling next to the poncho on which Ramirez was lying.
Her examination of the Ranger following his release had left the corpsman suitably impressed. His abdomen was covered in bruises, he had a black eye, a broken rib and several bad scratches, and yet he was smiling and acting like he didn’t even hurt. Rangers, she surmised, weren’t much different from Marines.
“Hi, Doc,” he said. “Hey, is there a medical term for when you get hit a bunch but you don’t feel it until later when you’re trying to relax?”
“Yeah,” she said, placing a stethoscope to his chest. “It’s called ‘getting your ass kicked.’”
“So ‘GYAK’ for short,” he said, pronouncing the made-up acronym “gee-yack.”
“Stop talking and breathe, please,” she said, listening to his breathing. His breathing seemed okay, no signs of illness or punctured lung. He winced at every breath as the broken rib made its presence known.
“You want some pain killers?” she asked.
“I don’t believe in ibuprofen,” he said. “It’s an affront against my religious beliefs to not dirty the temple that is my body with such things. I’ll take a beer, though.”
Fletcher smiled and shook her head.
“I’m just kidding,” he said. “I’ll take morphine.”
She handed him two white pills and a canteen.
“Thanks, Doc,” he said, knocking the pills back with a mouthful of water.
“What was it like in there?” she asked. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Not really,” he said. “I get captured a lot. One more and I get a free crock pot.”
“I’m sure it was frightening,” she said. “Talking about it doesn’t make you weak.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, and a moment later a wide grin broke out on his face. “Are you... Are you trying to psycho-analyze me?” he asked.
Fletcher nearly jumped. It was true that she wanted to check his mental state following such an ordeal. Most corpsmen and medics in the modern military had to be mental health qualified in case a person showed signs of PTSD following a traumatic event.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she assured him.
“No, don’t apologize! Let’s do this!” Ramirez said. He adjusted himself and looked up at the sky. “It started when I was four...”
“Oh, crap,” Fletcher mumbled.
“Rah-mee-raz,” a voice interrupted.
The two humans looked up and found two vixens dressed in Va’Shen camouflage standing there. Bao Sen stood in front while Alzoria stood just behind and to her left, her tail slowly moving from side to side nervously.
“Oh, hey guys!” Ramirez greeted them. He gestured to them and spoke to Fletcher. “Doc, this is Bao Sen and Alzoria. They’re Pelle Huntresses.”
“Nice to meet you,” Fletcher said to them, fully aware they wouldn’t understand her.
Likewise, Bao Sen spoke driven more for honor’s sake than a real ability to communicate with the Ranger. She pulled a moist sack from the bag that hung over her shoulder. <Alzoria has told me of your actions during your captivity,> she said. <As leader of the Huntresses, I thank you.>
Alzoria looked away as if the conversation had nothing to do with her. When she and Bao Sen had a chance to talk privately, the chief Huntress had asked about what had occurred while they were prisoners, concerned that Ramirez might have acted inappropriately or abusively. The young vixen, upon reflection, recalled mostly the Ranger annoying her, but also acting to protect her from the commandos. Even his annoyances, she had to admit, had helped her keep her mind off their situation and brought her some measure of comfort.
She didn’t want to admit that to him herself, of course. But it did make her reassess her opinion of him from only two days ago when she thought he was little more than a filth-riddled alien monster.
Upon hearing Alzoria’s description of events, Bao Sen had been relieved. Rather than avenge her Huntress upon the Dark One, she was now placed in the awkward position of honoring him.
Ramirez climbed up to a sitting position as Bao Sen handed the sack toward him. A thick red fluid dripped from it onto his legs.
<It is meat,> Bao Sen told him. <The tender part of the Datsu.>
Ramirez opened the package and examined the meat inside. “This is beautiful,” he said, his voice devoid of any humor or sarcasm. He held it up to Bao Sen and bowed his head. “Thank you.” He then held it toward Alzoria and repeated his thanks.
The two Va’Shen bowed to him, and without another word, Bao Sen turned on her heel and walked away. Alzoria made to follow her but stopped after a few feet. She turned and bowed to Ramirez again before trotting after her superior.
Fletcher watched them go. “You made a buddy,” she noted.
“That’s what I said,” Ramirez told her, putting the meat back into its sack and looking for something with which to wipe his hands. “People getting together, shooting tasty animals... It’s universal.”
“Worth the busted up ribs?” she asked.
“Oh, no!” he said. “I could have seriously done without that.”
* * *
Ben watched the last commando walk by him, rifle shouldered and maintaining an impressive bearing. Turan’s troops still had pride, and that was important. The support crew was packing up the field kitchen nearby, and no-man’s land was empty again. The LTVs were waiting on the main road. Once he was sure everything was done here, he would meet up with them and escort the Windsabers to Kar’El while one LTV, carrying Ramirez, Alzoria and Fletcher would head back to Pelle.
He took a breath and let it out slowly. Mission accomplished, a few injuries and no fatalities. All in all, it wasn’t a bad few day’s work. Looking back up at the cliff fortress, he wondered if there were more positions like this, filled with commandos waiting futilely for orders that would never come.
As he pondered this question, he heard Specialist Shinzato call, “Frag out!” A loud, air-piercing “crack” followed by a larger “boom” tore through the area as the make-shift pit in which they had dumped the commandos’ glassers blew up, taking the weapons with them.
He hoped this would be the last one, the last battlefield his men and women would have to set foot on. Turan’s Va’Shen had fought hard and well, but they had fought honorably, and Ben knew the next fight wouldn’t be like that. If the rumors he heard were true, then the Coalition was facing a planet-wide but sporadic insurgency. And if insurgents wanted to win, they couldn’t play fair.
The next fight would be much harder.
<Tesho?>
He jumped in surprise and turned, finding Alacea standing just to his left. She had managed to cross through half of no-man’s land in plain daylight and still get the drop on the Ranger.
“Hey, Alacea,” he said in English. “Thought you were walking out with your friends.”
She ignored the question she could never hope to understand and simply replied with one of her own. <Are you ready to leave?>
She followed this up by pointing to him and her and then to the direction the others had gone.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.” He turned and raised his voice, calling out to Shinzato. “We done here?” he asked.
“Good to go, Sir. Place is cleared out.”
“All right,” Ben said. “Let’s go. It’s a long walk if we get left behind.”
“HUA, Sir,” Shinzato replied and picked up his weapon, moving toward the path out.
Ben turned back and looked down at his “wife.” She waited patiently, serene. Her hanbok was dirty but had been dusted off in an attempt to continue looking respectable. Her delicate ears twitched every few moments, and her tail hung loosely down behind her.
As he looked at her, he took a breath. “We’re not married,” he told her. She looked up at him, having no idea what he was saying. “We’re not married, it was a misunderstanding,” he went on. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it happened, and I’m sorry circumstances make it hard to just tell you and be done with it.”
Alacea cocked her head to one side, her ears twitching. <I’m sorry I don’t know your language, Tesho,> she said. She bowed to him in apology. <But... thank you,> she went on. <Thank you for letting them go home.>
He blew out a breath and hefted his rifle. Cocking his head toward the path, he said, “C’mon, let’s go.”
* * *
“I’m telling you, it was huge, and I had it.”
Burgers just shook his head as he walked the path toward the roadway where their vehicles waited for them. “I call bullshit,” he replied to the wounded man walking behind him.
Ramirez, his chest wrapped tight with bandages, followed the other staff sergeant. They had offered to carry him out on a litter, but he wouldn’t have it.
“No, I’m serious, this datsu thing was a frigg’n monster!” he said excitedly. “Easily as tall as I was!”
“That’s not as impressive as you seem to think it is,” Burgers retorted.
“Seriously!” Seeing his friend wasn’t convinced, he looked around and found his two targets walking nearby. “LT! Alzoria!” he called, waving them forward.
Patricia, walking further down the line, just ahead of the troop of commandos, turned to Alzoria, who was looking at Ramirez in confusion. The Va’Shen had a different hand expression for “come here,” so Ramirez’s gyrations didn’t make sense to her.
<Ramirez speak at us,> she said and started toward the Ranger. Alzoria, wary but curious, started forward as well.
When they both go there, Ramirez addressed them. “Ma’am, ask Alzoria how big the datsu was.”
“The datsu?” Patricia repeated.
“It’s a tasty animal,” he said. “Just ask her.”
Patricia sighed and turned to Alzoria, who was now walking in step with her on her left. <Ramirez wants you say bigness for datsu.>
Alzoria’s ears twitched. <Datsu? We didn’t see any datsu.>
The interpreter turned back to the Rangers. “She says you’re full of shit.”
Burgers laughed, and Ramirez’s eyes narrowed. “She did not say that. Ask again,” Ramirez said. “It was when we got captured. It was like an elephant.”
Patricia sighed again. “O-kay,” she said. <Ramirez say you time taken, big datsu. Big big datsu. You say datsu bigness.>
<I didn’t see any datsu,> Alzoria sniffed. <When I saw Rah-meer-ez, he was already captured.>
She turned back to the Rangers. “She said she didn’t see it. All she saw was you getting captured.”
“Oh, that is bullshit,” the Ranger complained.
“She says she didn’t see it!” Patricia defended.
“Give it up, man,” Burgers piped up. “I mean, the best part of your story is that you just saw it. You didn’t even get a shot off. You don’t get credit for seeing it.”
Ramirez sulked for a moment, then raised his head like a meerkat sensing danger. “The assholes!” he cried.
“Assu-horu?” Alzoria asked, recognizing the word.
“Yeah! The guys who captured us!” he replied. He turned and faced the line of Va’Shen soldiers following them. “Hey!” he called. “Which of you guys caught me?” He pointed to himself while the commandos looked perplexed. “Come on! Me! Who caught me?! Did you see a datsu!?”
The line continued marching while Burgers laughed and Ramirez stood on the side of the path, harassing the Va’Shen like panhandler on the side of a city street.
“Come on!” he continued. “One of you had to see it! Datsu! Big datsu!”
Walking by him, Sayuno turned his head to address the other commando lifting the front of Rozan’s stretcher. <Eruto, what is that Dark One screaming about?>
<I do not know,> the scout leader replied quietly, not eager to draw the crazy human’s attention. <He keeps saying ‘datsu.’ Maybe he’s hungry?>
Lying still in the stretcher, Rozan chose this moment to speak up. <Remember that datsu we saw when we snatched him and the vixen up?>
<That was a pretty huge datsu,> Sayuno agreed. <I had a perfect shot on it too if Eruto hadn’t stopped me. Perfect.>
Eruto’s ears folded down slightly in annoyance. <Will you stop complaining about that?> he asked irritably. <There’s no glory in just seeing a datsu.>
<I didn’t just see it, I had a perfect shot on it,> Sayuno retorted as the stretcher passed Ramirez by.
<I find your story doubtful,> Rozan offered.
The three continued arguing as they marched down the path.
