Back | Next
Contents

SECTION FOUR—
DENOUEMENT

 

Chapter 38

 

Second Winter

Hudson awoke feeling rested, his sore-throat much improved; the local viruses had played havoc with his sinuses, but he seemed over the worse. He threw back his sleeping bag and rolled from his tent. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, and a gusty breeze brushed the powdery layers in short bursts. Hudson was chilly, but he was also naked. Turning his back on the transparent wall, he returned to his tent and grabbed his konish jumpsuit. Tailored to his human body, the rubbery material was thick and warm—too warm. Hudson would have preferred a pair of trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, but living in a hothouse was better than living out in the snow.

Dowornobb arrived with breakfast. Whatever it was, at least it was not fish. Hudson had finally demanded a respite from the monotonous diet, and it was humorous to the kones, because the kones thought he liked fish.

Dowornobb sat silently, a somber expression on his normally animated features.

"You worry, Master Dowornobb?" Hudson asked in functional konish, paying serious attention to his food. It was quite good.

"I wait for Mistress Kateos before telling you, Master Hudsawn," Dowornobb replied. "Ah, she arrives now." Kateos carried food for herself and Dowornobb. She sat. Neither kone touched their meal.

"What is wrong?" Hudson asked.

"A rocket from Kon reached orbit last night," Dowornobb replied. "A military rocket."

Hudson looked up, fork suspended in midflight. "They not friendly to my people? They wish us harm?" Hudson asked.

"We do not know," Dowornobb continued. "You should stay hidden until we understand their—"

"No," said Kateos in sibilant, gravelly Legion. "They know you here. They know." Kateos pointed into the sky, her expression somber. "They asked-ah to see you."

Hudson's appetite faded. His attention was captured by an escalating rumble. The ground vibrated.

"They come," Kateos said. "Their landing happens now."

Hudson looked through the dome to see a white-hot column of flame—a tongue of energy evaporating the clouds, cleaving a wide tunnel through which could be seen blue morning skies. Ground vibration increased as the black cylinder smoothly slowed its descent. It hovered over the rocket pads and settled onto its gantry dock. Firmly planted, the powerful engines shut down, leaving sudden and disconcerting silence.

"We must-ah leave you now," Kateos said.

* * *

Dowornobb and Kateos hastened through the maze of passageways linking the domes, joining Et Silmarn at the airlock. Indicator lights revealed the airlock to be in the final stages of pressurization.

"Any news?" asked Dowornobb. "Have they brought supplies?"

"It is not a freighter," Et Silmarn snapped. "It is a warship—a heavy lift interceptor. I doubt they bring anything but trouble."

The airlock hissed open. The arrivals lumbered forward. All wore military uniforms, and many were armed. One individual grew disconcertingly familiar.

"Longo!" Dowornobb blurted, much too loudly.

"Colonel Longo, if you please," the leader of the detachment said flatly. "Realize with whom you are dealing." Longo wore the dark burgundy of the security apparatus.

"You are a spy!" Kateos blurted.

Longo fixed her with a glance of steel, his diplomatic veneer all too transparent. He turned rudely away.

"I am aware of what has happened on Genellan," Longo said, addressing himself to Et Silmarn. "I am here to continue the investigation." He peered around as if looking for something in particular. "It has been reported that you are holding one of the...aliens. I wish to see it."

"They call themselves humans," Et Silmarn replied, "and one is here as our guest, most excellent Colonel." The noblekone' s distaste was thinly suppressed. "The humans have demonstrated their peaceful intent."

Longo stared sternly and smiled. "Of course—Your Excellency. But as official representative of our government I must verify that...peaceful intent. A formality, of course. Where is this pacific creature? Why is it not here?"

"It only suffers our environment, most excellent Colonel," Et Silmarn responded. "Elevated pressures cause gases to be dissolved in its bloodstream, and it takes many hours and a slow decompression to relieve. Also, the human considers the temperature in our domes unbearably warm. It possesses a strange, er...a fragile physiology—except for its tolerance to cold."

"Are you telling me that I must go outside—in the winter—to meet with this creature?" replied the astounded Longo.

"No. It is cold outside, even for the human," Et Silmarn said. "The human—he is named Huhsawn—lives in our agricultural dome."

Dowornobb detected a faint whiff of fear emanating from the colonel.

"Of course," the noblekone continued impassively. "We have extensive video and photographs documenting the aliens. If you would avoid confrontation, you could review our research materials instead, most excellent Colonel."

Longo did not react to the insult. "Your suggestions have merit, Your Excellency."

* * *

In the final analysis General Gorruk's greatest military achievement was his retreat. It was masterfully executed, but then he had no alternative. His supply lines were severed. It was but a matter of time before his armies were isolated and destroyed.

His plan centered on demonstrating a massive offensive, preparations for which enabled him to position thousands of airfreighters and rail cars. Retreat was not imagined as an option, and so the combatants prepared for the ultimate confrontation of the war—an apocalyptic battle. Millions of konish soldiers moved across the blackened battlefields, girding themselves for death. The northern soldiers had no choice; running or fighting had the same result—death. Resigned to the more merciful death of combat, the northern armies marched with desperate resolve.

Gorruk goaded his legions to frontally engage in another attack frenzy. While the southern defenders hunkered down and decimated the oncoming northerners, Gorruk began loading men and arms onto freighters and rail cars, using expendable infantry to defend terminals and landing strips—mostly against his own forces as they panicked and broke. Ultimately only a third of his expeditionary forces were killed or captured—less than two million kones. That he escaped at all, much less with his army intact, serves as great testimony and tribute to his military genius.

Testimony to his character was less flattering. Thwarted from victory against the southern armies, Gorruk turned to new targets— his own government. Twenty-six main attack missiles hit the Imperial Palace and the ministry buildings within seconds of each other. The structures and their vicinities were vaporized, along with Emperor-General Jook the First and the Imperial Body Guard. Gorruk arrived in the sundered capital, at the head of a column of crack troops carefully held in reserve from the ravages of war.

Not a single member of the nobility was caught in Gorruk' s blitz; all had conveniently departed the city. When informed of this, Gorruk became infuriated, ordering intelligence officers put to death. Yet despite obvious danger, noblekones returned to their duties—the exception being the militia high command and the ministry functionaries. Gorruk did not understand this happenstance, nor did he endeavor to disrupt it, for he realized no government could function without the economic underpinnings that were largely managed by the nobility. Reluctantly accepting their critical value to his short term success, Emperor-General Gorruk the First went about establishing a new government on the northern outskirts of the capital, safely behind the ramparts of his main military headquarters. Construction crews began work on a palace to rival all palaces, a bunker to rival all bunkers.

He would deal with the nobility at a more convenient time. The government was his and now he would govern.

* * *

Hudson watched Longo and his soldiers leave the agricultural dome.

"Colonel Longo was polite," Hudson said, relieved to have the confrontation behind him. The meeting had been short, the temperature in the dome uncomfortably cool for the kones. And anticlimactic—Hudson had agonized through the long hours prior. Et Silmarn, Kateos, and Dowornobb said nothing until Longo and his subalterns had departed the dome.

"Be not-ah deceived, Hudsawn," Kateos said in Legion. "Colonel Longo is a senior security officer, a trained liar. You must-ah be careful."

"But Mistress Kateos, my people must deal with your government some time," Hudson replied. "There are so few of us. Why would your government not let us settle on Genellan? We could not exist on Kon. What other option is there?"

"There is at-ah least-ah one other option, Huhsawn," Et Silmarn said, speaking the human's tongue. "It-ah is not-ah a good one."

* * *

Longo dismissed his soldiers. He cantered into the austere quarters reserved for visiting dignitaries and looked out the window. Blue shadows raced over snow-covered ground, the overcast shattered by the sun and wind. Longo shivered and turned his back. His distaste at being on the forsaken planet was deep.

"A miserable place," he said aloud, but he was not really in an ill mood. The meeting with the alien—the human—had gone well. Longo was impressed with the alien's ability to speak the konish tongue. The buzzer on his entry sounded.

"Enter," Longo said. A messenger stood at attention on all fours.

"Colonel Longo! We have received word General Gorruk has taken control of the government. Emperor Jook is dead."

Longo' s mouth dropped open, and then his gape turned into a opportunistic grin. General Gorruk was a formidable kone yet a known entity. Longo's smile broadened—Emperor-General Gorruk would, of course, be interested in his mission. The security officer drafted a message reaffirming his loyalties and summarizing his activities.

"Send this through your most secure means. And retransmit the latest summaries of our interrogations—and the videos. Include the videos," Longo commanded.

Gorruk' s response arrived four hours later:

TO: SECURITY COL. LONGO FM: EMPEROR-GENERAL

CLASS ONE SECURITY/COL. LONGO'S EYES ONLY

AM AWARE OF YOUR ACTIVITIES. ALIENS REPRESENT THREAT. LOCATE AND ELIMINATE USING ALL MEANS AT YOUR DISPOSAL. REPORT STATUS DAILY. IF ADDITIONAL RESOURCES REQUIRED, SO STATE.

GORRUK

Longo stared at the short message. An idea sifted into his consciousness. It was risky, but he would dare to send a counter suggestion. The intelligence officer sat down and drafted a reply:

TO: EMPEROR-GENERAL GORRUK, SUPREME LEADER FM: SECURITY COL. LONGO

CLASS ONE SECURITY/GENERAL GORRUK'S EYES ONLY NO ADDITIONAL RESOURCES ARE REQUIRED.

UNLESS YOU DIRECT OTHERWISE, MY PLAN AS FOLLOWS. WILL PRESERVE LIFE OF THE ONE ALIEN IN MY CONTROL. WILL USE TO ASSIST IN GETTING CLOSE TO REMAINING ALIENS. IT IS WINTER AND TOO COLD FOR OPERATIONS WHERE ALIENS ARE LOCATED. IN LOCAL SPRING (KON DATE: 13M26) AN EXPEDITION TO THE ALIEN ENCAMPMENT WILL BE MOUNTED. ALIENS WILL BE LIQUIDATED OR CAPTURED AS YOU DIRECT.

LONGO COL. SECURITY

Longo coded the message into the burst transmitters and, with burgeoning trepidation, punched the transmit button. Gorruk's response arrived two hours later:

TO: SECURITY COL. LONGO FM: EMPEROR-GENERAL

CLASS ONE SECURITY/COL. LONGO'S EYES ONLY

KILL THE ALIENS. HOW YOU ACCOMPLISH THAT TASK IS UP TO YOU. DO NOT FAIL.

GORRUK

* * *

"Is winter never going to end?" Buccari sniffed. She stood shivering in front of the lodge fireplace. Her feet were wet and her toes were near frostbitten—again.

"It's almost over," MacArthur whispered, teeth chattering. They had bravely attempted a patrol of the perimeter. The biting cold had turned them back before reaching the palisade wall. "I don't give it another month. It was balmy outside."

Buccari looked at his windburned features and laughed softly. As Buccari and MacArthur talked, Tookmanian made a rare appearance outside the labor room to add wood to the galley fire. To no one's surprise, the tall saturnine man had taken charge of the birthing. A tarpaulin hung across the entrance to the water room, isolating it and converting it into a labor room for Lee. The dried wood crackled and popped as it ignited. A gust of wind rattled across the roof. Tookmanian disappeared behind the curtain.

"How's Les doing, Nance?" Buccari inquired.

Dawson lay drowsing next to the fire. She and Goldberg had alternated waking hours through the night. The pregnant female's water had broken in the early morning hours, and Lee had been in painful labor ever since.

"Don't know, Lieutenant," Dawson yawned. "She's asleep, but I don't know if that's a good sign or not. At least it keeps Winnie quiet."

Fenstermacher lay bundled in a corner, sound asleep. Sleep had been hard to come by, and most of the men were upstairs in the loft trying to recover from the long night. Mendoza and Schmidt sat at the table helping Tatum and Shannon take care of the babies. Miraculously, both infants napped. During the previous night and day they had efficiently taken shifts whining and screaming. The confined space of the lodge had never seemed smaller or more crowded.

The silence ended. Everyone's attention was collected by a gulping, gasping groan followed by loud grunts. Fenstermacher leapt awake and dove through the slitted opening. Dawson, moving more slowly, followed. Agonizing minutes crawled by.

"Okay! Okay!" came Tookmanian' s deep voice. Lee yelled and gagged.

"Don't hold back, Les," Dawson encouraged. "Go ahead and scream."

"Okay, momma. Push!" Tookmanian growled. "Okay! Okay! Okay! Okay!"

"Come on, Les," Goldberg gasped. "You can do it!"

Lee screamed—a deep, throaty roar never expected from the shy medic. Outside the curtain everyone stared with grieved wonder, unable to shut out reality by simply closing their eyes. It was a prison. Deathly cold beyond the stone walls of the lodge, it was too cold to leave; they were trapped! They shared! If not the pain, all hands shared the uncertainty and the stark terror of the suffering mother's plight. They were joined in tribulation, and they prayed—prayed with all their might to whatever greater power they could invoke.

"Oka-a-a-y-y-y!" Tookmanian announced, a statement of triumph.

Courage and hope welled. The inmates bravely made eye contact with their fellows. The newborn baby's lusty cry was a clarion call for life, and collectively held breaths were expelled, forced out by joyous cheers. The older infants added to the bedlam with frightened cries.

Dawson appeared, finger to her lips. "Shhhh! It's a girl! Shhh!" she admonished, but she was smiling as she disappeared into the water room.

Buccari looked about. The realization that she was the only woman not involved in the birthing caused discomfiture, and she did not know why. She did not have time to ponder. Dawson, leather apron bloodied, burst from the curtain with two pots. "Fill up the water pot with snow and get it boiling. Quick! We need more hot water!" she brusquely ordered, to no one and to everyone. Mendoza and Schmidt hurried to obey.

"Is everything all right?" Tatum asked.

"She's hemorrhaging," Dawson muttered as she went behind the curtain.

In her hurry Dawson left the curtain partially open, exposing a forceful firelit tableau. Tookmanian, an expression of stoic resolve set firmly on his craggy features, bent over the exposed body of the mother, tense arms bloody to the elbow. A frightened Goldberg stood at the head of the bed, the raw newborn in her arms, displayed for the mother to see. Dawson, wild red hair tangled and bedraggled, stood erect, holding clean rags at the ready, bravely awaiting her next assignment. Fenstermacher, his back to the opening, knelt on the wooden floor.

"Oh, Leslie. We have a baby, Leslie. We have a baby," Fenstermacher sobbed. The little man put his cheek next to Lee's and held her hands. "I love you, Leslie. Oh Les, I love you so much. Don't leave me."

Back | Next
Framed