Acts of Reprisal
by
John M. Cowan
Angry shouts yanked Mahoney from a solid sleep. Wrenching his eyes open as he rolled from his cot, he scooped up his rifle and stumbled toward the tent flap. Human voices mixed with Cintaran cries as he burst out into the night. The dark humid air smelled of alien flowers and human sweat.
He tapped his earpin. "This is Mahoney, what the hell’s going on?"
"We had an intruder, sir," Lifton reported, her voice taut. "There are casualties in the medical shelter."
"Go to full security," Mahoney ordered. "Activate barrier beams and use formal ID protocol. I’m coming to -- "
"Sam?" It was Daniel Weyer, head of their trading mission. "Get to medical right away."
His instincts and training pulled him toward the camp perimeter, but Weyer was head of the trading mission and he paid their salaries. Mahoney changed direction.
He was tall and lanky, with a little gray in his hair but still in good condition three years after leaving active military service. Corporate security work had mellowed him some but Lifton and the rest of the crew knew he could still be as mean as a wild boar when his temper flared.
Mahoney waved the curious and frightened back inside their tents as he ran. Their four months on Cintara had been a routine trading mission so far; everyone was looking for some excitement. But they were traders, not rented soldiers like Mahoney and his security team, and most knew they’d be helpless in the face of any real trouble.
Mahoney saw Weyer standing under the flap of the medical shelter, staring inside. "What happened?" Mahoney snapped.
Weyer turned. He was a short, compact man with a black goatee and a bald scalp. "I thought you had security under control."
"You ordered me not to activate the barrier beam." The Cintarans who lived in the village nearby didn’t like the shimmering semi-transparent force barriers so Weyer had ordered them down. Mahoney had argued but lost.
"What happened?" Mahoney asked. "Who’s injured?"
"It’s Sindel-jai. And . . . " His voice trailed off.
Sindel-jai was the oldest son of the leader of the Cintaran village. "Damn it," Mahoney said. "Is Dara -- Dr. Schliefe, is she working on him"
Weyer looked at Mahoney as if deciding between two unpleasant tasks. Finally he answered: "He’s dead."
Mahoney saw something in Weyer’s eyes and suddenly pushed past him into the tent.
Sindel-jai lay on a cot, arms at his sides, a yellowish wet splotch in the center of his chest. Mahoney read the scene with one flick of the eyes and then spotted another body on the ground.
The bony handle of a knife jutted up from the center of the body’s chest. A woman. Mahoney’s universe froze.
"Dr. Schliefe is also dead," he heard Weyer say.
Dara wore a gray lab jacket streaked with dirt and blood and her blue eyes were wide open, sightlessly staring into the black sky. They would never look at Mahoney again.
"Damn it," Mahoney whispered.
####
She was spraying some dermaband over a scrape in his shoulder, ignoring his best jokes. He’d been flirting with her for weeks. She’d never responded but she never firmly told him to get lost, and he’d never backed down from a goal that seemed worth some extra effort. They had to work together on this planet and romance was a distraction he’d always tried to avoid but something about her fascinated him. When she finished and let her hand linger on his arm for a silent moment he took a chance and pulled her mouth to his lips, and she sighed and let the dermal sprayer fall to the ground and kissed him back with an intensity that took him by surprise. He pulled her as close as he could and her hands roamed hungrily across his bare shoulder as they kissed.
"Sam," she whispered. She kissed his neck and ran her fingers up and down his back.
He forced himself to pull away. "I've got to -- there are things -- "
She laughed and kissed his nose, then straightened up, professional once again. "Of course. I have other work of my own."
"Tonight?"
"It’s an appointment." She straightened her sun-faded medical jacket. "Don’t keep the doctor waiting."
####
They sat in a circle in the center of the camp. Weyer looked as if the ground hurt his butt. Lifton sat with them, her face burning with anger and her black hair soaked with sweat.
Sindel and another Cintaran named Tellek sat together facing the humans. Like most Cintarans, they were tall and slender and wore lightweight clothing stained in irregular patterns with the juice of native fruits; when they walked through the jungles of Cintara they moved like cougars. Their olive green helped them blend into the dense rain forests that covered most of their planet’s habitable landmasses. Tellek was one of Sindel’s twelve brothers, and he sat with a long curved dagger in one hand.
Mahoney stared at the weapon, picturing the one in Dara’s chest.
Mahoney was a soldier; he’d lost people before. Good friends. You had to accept it and move on.
But Dara was dead.
Pale sunlight filtered through the dense branches overhead. Mahoney felt as if he hadn’t slept in years and never wanted to sleep again.
Weyer began. "I was using the toilet when I heard Dr. Schliefe scream. I went to the medical shelter and someone ran into me -- a Cintaran male wearing some kind of a headband. He hit me -- " He touched a bandage on his bald scalp -- "and ran. I went into the shelter and found the two of them and about that time we heard shouting."
Lifton said, "One of our people saw a male Cintaran running into the forest near his post and called out for him to identify himself. The Cintaran kept running and because we had no orders to fire, he got away."
"The intruder headed west, away from the camp," Mahoney said, keeping his voice steady. "We lost his trail after about half a kilometer but it seems clear he was on his way to the Red Zone."
The borders of the Red Zone lay sixty kilometers west of Sindel’s country. Within those borders a massive source of radiation deep beneath the ground polluted every river and stream for hundreds of kilometers, permeating the soil and the humid air for hundreds of square kilometers. Orbital scans suggested that a nuclear-fueled starship might have crashed there centuries ago, but no one knew the source with any certainty. Toward the outer edges of the Red Zone the radiation was less toxic but still hazardous. The Cintarans who lived there had apparently developed an immunity over the generations but anyone else who crossed into the Red Zone fell sick within hours and usually died unless they got out fast.
Tellek looked at Sindel and spoke in the Cintaran language. Sindel’s reply was short. Tellek turned away from him as if disappointed by the answer. "Tell us why your doctor was treating Sindel-jai." Cintaran grammar didn’t use questions so every request sounded brusque and impatient until humans grew used to it.
"He wandered into the camp, bleeding, and he said he’d been attacked by bandits from the Red Zone," Weyer said. "He was wounded, and too weak to return to your city. Dr. Schliefe took him to our medical shelter."
Tellek and Sindel exchanged a glance of concern. Tellek said, "A pouch in Sindel-jai’s clothing contained pieces of raw asfani leaf. Tell us if you know of that."
Weyer’s face looked blank. "What’s asfani?"
"It’s a native plant with some medical properties," Lifton said. "I’ve heard some of the Cintaran natives talk about it."
Weyer shrugged. "Maybe Dr. Schliefe asked Sindel-jai to give her some. She was lower than she realized on some of her own medical supplies."
"Sindel-jai would not have traded that," Sindel said, speaking for the first time. "It is forbidden."
Tellek said something in the Cintaran language that seemed to anger Sindel. They argued for a moment.
"Enough," Sindel said. "My son was reckless, yes. You knew him as well as I, leader Weyer. But he is dead. We must discuss reprisal. Those in the Red Zone must feel our response."
Damn right, Mahoney thought.
"Do you think -- " Weyer paused, looking uncomfortable. "This is your home and you have to follow your own customs. But we’re traders. We can’t afford -- don’t want to start a war."
Of course not. Weyer didn’t want a war that might interfere with making a profit here, unless he could figure out a way to make some money off any local hostilities. But the Corporate Council would never license weapons for import to a low-tech planet, even one they’d cleared for trade. War was truly bad for business.
The hell with it. Mahoney was aching to hurt somebody, to burn the entire planet to smoking cinders, and he didn’t give a damn for Weyer’s profits even if the man was paying his salary. "No, they’re right," he said. "We have to hit them back."
Weyer looked startled. "Sam, we can’t -- "
"I’ll lead the mission." He looked at Sindel. "You may send one of your person with me. We’ll take a lightflyer into the Red Zone -- "
"Hold on just a moment." Weyer’s face was turning red. "Sam, I’m just as angry about Dr. Schliefe as anyone but we need to stay calm. I’ve got a job to do here -- "
"This isn’t about Dara." But Mahoney knew that everyone could hear the tremble in his voice as he said her name. He took a deep breath. "I’m angry, yes. I’m mad as hell. But we can’t ignore an attack on one of our people. If they think they can kill one of us without consequences they’ll come back again whenever they feel justified. This attack has to cost them something. And I’d say that no matter who they killed."
But Mahoney knew he wouldn’t feel the same raw desire to lash out and hurt someone. Anyone. And if Weyer argued much longer he might be the first.
"Then we are agreed," Sindel said.
Weyer glared at Mahoney but nodded to Sindel as if relieved that the decision was out of his hands. "Yes."
Mahoney nodded. "Okay."
####
That night they made love on her narrow cot inside the medical shelter. Afterward they sprawled together in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs as their heartbeats slowed. She ran her finger down a faded purple scar on his chest. "Where did that one come from?"
"Laser spear. Bodyguard work on Daikin Nine."
"This?" She stroked a wide swath of scarred skin on his shoulder.
"Radiation burns fighting rebels on the Primus Satellites."
"And this one?" She touched his neck.
"Suzie DeMalkis. My first girlfriend."
She gave him a playful slap. He grabbed her hand, pulled her close, and kissed her.
"Okay," she said after a long moment. "Okay, last question."
"Shoot."
She placed her hand over his chest and held it there as his heart pumped. "What happened here?"
Death, he thought. War and death and terror and betrayal and the exhaustion that makes you think you don’t care whether the bullet misses you or not. Her hand felt soft and cool against his skin.
"Nothing," he said. "Nothing that can’t heal."
####
A strip of the forest had been hacked and burned away to leave a clear border some twenty meters wide between the village and the nearest trees. Mahoney saw three children playing at the edge of the bare ground while two women talked and stitched drab bundles of cloth with long shiny needles that glinted in their fingers.
No walls. No guards. Mahoney and his Cintaran counterpart Tulem lay on their bellies in the long grass watching the village through viewscopes.
"See anything we’re allowed to shoot at?" Mahoney asked.
Tulem didn’t answer. Mahoney remembered that Cintarans didn’t understand questions. "Tell me if you see any permissible targets."
"No. Tell me if you do."
"Not yet."
Mahoney and Tulem had been in the Red Zone twenty-two hours looking for a village or a camp or a hunting party -- any target for their mission. They’d left their lightflyer covered with ferns next to a thick fallen tree and hiked for hours before finding this place. Their orders were clear: Two adult males, preferably soldiers or authority figures. No women and no children, which was why they’d brought projectile weapons instead of plasma rifles whose discharge might spread and cause collateral damage. Hit and run. They had approximately forty-eight hours to complete their mission and get back inside the borders before the radiation killed them. Mahoney could already feel the sickness beginning -- a foul burning sensation deep inside his stomach and a growing ache in his lungs and throat.
The village in front of them made Mahoney remember the farming community he’d grown up in: quiet and orderly, everyone working with a purpose but no one rushing too fast. No walls or barriers, just a perimeter of small stone buildings. In the distance he could see taller structures four or five stories high with banners flapping in the lazy breeze.
They’d been watching for an hour and seen only females and children and elderly males. The men, Tulem had told him, were probably off tending the fields for crops to eat or working the mines for minerals to sell. They might not return until nightfall, which would make their own escape from the toxic elements of the Red Zone longer and riskier than Mahoney wanted to think about.
"We just have to act fast," Mahoney said. "First chance we see." Mahoney had given Tulem a basic training session on the projectile weapon he’d provided, and the Cintaran was handling it like a new pet.
"We kill and be gone." His Terran was rough but he made his point clearly. Tulem was eager to kill.
Mahoney knew better. He’d killed humans and aliens both and he remembered the urge to start shooting when carrying a powerful weapon was a new experience and real battle was still distant and rare. But that had faded years ago. These days the only pleasure he got from killing was the thrill of still being alive once the enemy dropped.
But this was different. He knew that the way to prevent a second attack was to respond decisively to the first. His years as a soldier had taught him that and nothing he’d learned as a security consultant contradicted it. But the cool military principles he’d learned as a soldier only added to fury in his veins. Somebody had to pay for Dara’s death and Mahoney needed to be the one to do it.
The heavy air smelled like damp laundry left in a locker too long. He could barely see the pale sun through the vines and leaves and mossy branches towering over their heads. The spongy soil sank beneath each step they took.
He sipped some water from his bottle to fight off the growing impulse to cough. The burning in his lungs had begun to creep up into his throat. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and kept his eyes attached to the viewscope. And coughed softly. Damn it.
He glanced at Tulem, who lay motionless as a rock, breathing easily. Maybe the poison took longer to affect native Cintarans, he thought. "You are not sick," he whispered.
Tulen turned his face, opened his mouth, and stuck out his tongue to show Mahoney a mangled green knot of something. "Asfani."
Asfani. Tellek had asked about it. "The asfani keeps you from getting sick here?"
"It is cure for the poison. But it is forbidden." He looked over the grassy ground and pointed toward a leafy plant two meters away. "There."
Mahoney thought about crawling over to grab some, but then Tulem said something in Cintaran. Mahoney looked up and saw them too: Five men wearing red bands around their foreheads and long daggers from their hips. They stood in the doorway of one of the stone buildings, talking among themselves. The range was about fifty meters.
He heard a quiet rustle of grass as Tulem raised his rifle. "Just a moment," he whispered and reached into a sleeve pocket. He activated the flat electronic slate with Sindel’s formal declaration of reprisal and set it on the ground. Then he cleared his mind and lifted his own weapon. He locked the sight on the group. "Count to three."
"Ka," Tulem counted in a quivering voice. "Lu…."
Mee never came. Mahoney heard a grunt and thought Tulem had taken his shot early. Then he saw the snout of Tulem’s rifle dip toward the ground and he turned his head and saw Tulem’s eyes stretched wide in shock. And then he felt a sharp jab at the base of his own neck and he knew Tulem was dead and he was next.
But the blade didn’t plunge down into his spine. One long second passed and then another as he waited for the stroke. He tried to bring Dara’s blue eyes into his mind so he’d be thinking of her when he died. Instead a heel smashed down into his forearm and he dropped the rifle into the grass.
He tried to turn his head but a hard kick caught him in his shoulder. The tip of the blade scraped his flesh and drew blood. A kick in his side rolled him over, face up, and he felt his lungs straining for air as he stared into the flat faces of two Cintarans wearing red headbands. One of them smiled like a child with a new toy. The other, shorter and scarred across his face, placed his foot on Mahoney’s throat and pushed down just hard enough to force Mahoney to gasp for breath.
The smiling Cintaran leaned down and pulled his dagger from Tulem’s back. He held it forward so Mahoney could see the blood smeared over the blade.
"You come with us," he said.
A surge of relief poured through him as he realized he wasn’t going to die, and he immediately despised himself for it. Coward. But, he reminded himself, a single extra moment of life might give him the opportunity to do his job. He gave an exaggerated nod. "Yes."
The scarred Cintaran lifted his foot. "Stand."
He sat up, hesitated, then slowly turned his body and pointed at the slate on the ground. "Bring that."
The two Cintarans exchanged glances. Mahoney would have expected a trick in their position, too. The scar-faced one leaned down to read the slate’s words without touching it, his legs arched and ready to spring away if it somehow attacked him.
The smiling Cintaran’s face grew impatient. He barked a few words, and his partner replied with a snorting noise that prompted the smile’s return. The words on the slate were making the Cintaran laugh.
Was that good or bad? Mahoney waited.
The scarred Cintaran gave Mahoney a cruel smile of his own. "Me," he said, pointing at his chest. "I am Fellin. I go to your camp and kill Sindel-jai."
Mahoney lunged but the other Cintaran grabbed his shoulder and slammed him back on the ground. Mahoney felt the knife at the side of his throat.
"No." The voice was firm. "You come."
Mahoney struggled keep his voice from trembling with rage. "I will kill you."
Fellin picked up the slate and flung it at Mahoney’s chest.
"You come," he said.
####
"Were you always a soldier?" she asked two nights later. They lay on blankets spread on a hill outside camp.
"My family was a bunch of farmers," he told her. "On Crystal."
"Couldn’t wait to get off planet, I bet. See the galaxy." She had blue eyes like the stars he’d seen in the night sky.
"Not exactly. I figured I’d be a farmer too all my life."
"So what happened?"
He looked away, uncertain about sharing the truth. "There was a girl. Turned out she liked someone else better than me."
"That’s an old story."
"It was my brother."
"Older still."
"What about you? Were you always a doctor?"
She answered with a half smile from far away. "No. There was a boy… I think you can figure out the rest." She kissed him again.
####
They left Tulem’s body in the grass and marched him down toward the village. Mahoney coughed harder, spitting up fluid. The poison in the ground was getting to him.
Inquisitive eyes followed them through narrow paths between stone houses to one of the taller buildings toward the village center. It was built of thick wood and polished to a bright sheen that gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. They guided Mahoney through a high doorway and then up a twisting flight of stairs through shadows so dark he couldn’t see the steps beneath his feet. At the top one harsh hand pushed him through a curtained doorway and he blinked at the sudden brightness of the empty sky overhead.
They stood in the open air on top of the structure. Flags on tall poles ringed the circular platform, and a stone table surrounded by wooden chairs sat in the center. Three men and two women in thick robes sat at the table. One male and a female were examining a long scroll covered filled with elaborate symbols written in thick black ink; another male sorted and counted out finger-sized metal bars of a vibrant blue substance and stacked them in careful rows while a woman watched intently. They all peered in surprise as he stumbled and fell to the hard wooden floor.
Cintaran words rolled back and forth across the air above his head. He pulled himself to his feet and stood, arms at his sides, waiting. And watching the Cintaran killer.
Fellin saw Mahoney’s eyes and met them with a direct stare until one of the females asked him a question. He answered, pointing at Mahoney, and then the other Cintaran reached toward Mahoney palm up and Mahoney carefully drew the slate from his sleeve pocket and handed it over.
The female examined it. Old but not frail, her face was lined with creases but her eyes were bright and curious. She passed the slate to a chubby man next to her and looked at Mahoney’s face for the first time.
"I am Redal, chief of this village," she said. "Your attempt at reprisal has failed."
He stared at her accent-free Terran. When he opened his mouth to reply a harsh cough burst from his throat and the floor seemed to slide beneath his feet. One of the Cintarans caught his shoulder before he fell. The other yanked a chair close and shoved him into it.
"You killed two people." His voice sounded steady despite the sickness and his frustration. "One was a human. If you kill any more of us they’ll send more soldiers with more weapons and start killing people." He shot a glance at Fellin. "I hope you’re one of the first."
Redal barked a short question at Fellin. Mahoney recognized his one word answer.
"Tell him," the woman said.
"I did not kill the female," he told Mahoney. "Only Sindel-jai. The female was alive when I ran."
"Liar." He pushed himself up but the other one grabbed his arm and twisted it.
"Listen to me." Redal stood. She held the edge of the table as if her legs were too weak to support herself very long. "It is against our treaty for Sindel-jai or any of his people to enter the Red Zone. It is against the treaty for his people to use the asfani for protection against the poison in this land. Sindel-jai broke both laws and came to this village three days ago. We discovered him and he ran. Fellin wounded his leg but he escaped. Fellin followed him to the outer lands to carry out our punishment. But we have no hostility for your people. Fellin’s orders were not to harm any human."
"Then he’s lying." Mahoney coughed and spat at Fellin’s feet.
Fellin held his ground. "I make my way into your camp. I am silent. I find Sindel-jai and kill him. The female find me and she screams and I hit her and run. Another man comes and I hit him to get away. But I kill only Sindel-jai."
"You -- " Another coughing spasm seized his body, but when he regained control of himself he looked at Fellin and swallowed his anger. "The other man -- who was it? Tell me who it was."
"I do not know. I hit him and run. He has…." He asked a question and one of the male Cintarans at the table answered. Fellin put his hand on top of his head where his thick hair lay flat beneath the headband. "No hair on his head."
"No hair." Mahoney frowned. Weyer. He patted his chest. "You hit him here. Tell me if that is true."
"No." He tapped the top of his head. "I hit him here."
That was true. But it proved nothing. Fellin had killed Sindel-jai and he’d killed Dara and Mahoney was going to kill him. Right now, maybe. One quick jab in the chest --
The illness seized him. He doubled over, coughing until he felt too dizzy to stand.
"Sindel-jai knew the treaty," Redal said. "We have no quarrel with your people. You must return and remind Sindel of the treaty."
"Return…" They were letting him go? Once recovered, he could come back after Fellin again. The thought renewed his hope. And his anger.
But his training and curiosity kicked in. Intelligence about these people would help him when he returned, and the answers to a few questions would help him when he got back to the camp. "Why would Sindel-jai -- " No. "Tell me if you know why Sindel-jai would come here," he demanded.
"For asfani," Redal spoke with the reverence of a priestess for a sacred relic. "It protects us from the poison around us."
"But it grows everywhere. Tulem picked some -- "
"The raw asfani leaf is weak. Our people have learned to extract the elements within the asfani plant and be healthy here inside the Red Zone."
The chubby man next to her said something in objection.
Redal shook her head. "You should know this, human," she told Mahoney. "Today you breathe the poison we all endure every day in this place. Generations ago our people were forced to live here as slaves and work for the tribes of Cintara as we sickened and died, just as you will if you remain here another day." Her voice began to shake. "Thousands and thousands of our ancestors gave our lives in misery and illness until we discovered the secret buried inside the asfani. The war we fought was bloody and long but it ended in our freedom. And now even though we still live here in the poison lands our people are no longer slaves. The asfani protects us and so the treaty we made with the tribes does not allow outsiders to use the asfani plant. If they did, the outsiders could send an army into our land and destroy us. We will not allow that." Her shoulders sagged as if she’d used all her energy to speak to him.
Mahoney tried to imagine an army immune to the effects of radiation. Years ago, he’d been part of a unit fighting rebels on the Primus Satellites. The main satellite’s power core had ruptured, leaking lethal doses of radiation on them all. He’d gotten a painful burn when the shoulder of his radsuit ripped, but dozens of his friends had died from the invisible onslaught. They could have used something like the asfani then.
They’d pay anything to get hold of it now. . .
"Do they -- ? No, I mean, would -- " He shook his head and tried to reframe the question. "Tell me if the tribes outside have ever tried to get the asfani from you before."
"It is forbidden," Redal said, as if explaining the truth to a child. "Violation of the treaty would mean war between our tribes."
"Then why -- " Damn it! "But Sindel-jai violated it. Tell me if you know why."
She shook her head. "We do not. Only that he came and offered things in trade that he said would make a man dream while awake, or laugh for days at a time."
The round-bellied male next to her reached down into this robes and placed a small translucent tube on the table.
Mahoney leaned forward. It was a plastic cylinder half-filled with a transparent liquid. The writing on the side identified it as a common human painkiller. The handwriting was Dara’s.
"She was lower than she realized on some of her own medical supplies," Weyer had said.
"This is ours," he said. Had Sindel-jai stolen it? That didn’t make sense. Why would he break the treaty and trade for asfani extract if it meant war? He couldn’t possibly carry enough of the potion on foot back to the other side of the Red Zone to do any good for his people.
But even a little bit could be analyzed and then replicated with the right equipment. And that would be worth a hell of a lot to someone else.
####
He skidded the lightflyer in the field at the edge of the camp and clambered out with only a fuzzy memory of its fall from the sky and the last-minute recovery that saved him from a fatal crash. He ignored the confused shouts around him and the insistent ringing in his ears and concentrated on the aching rage in his chest as he staggered away from the craft.
Mahoney trudged through the camp, pushing away one of his men and shaking his head to the questions bubbling around him. What happened to you? Where is Tulem? You need a doctor! But there was no doctor because Dara was dead and now he had an act of reprisal of his own to commit.
Sindel met him as he stalked toward the command shelter. "Tell me where Tulem is."
"Tulem’s dead. That part of the reprisal failed." He pushed past the Cintaran.
"You are not clear. Explain what you mean -- "
But Weyer had just stepped out of the shelter with a tentative look on his face as if he still hoped the disturbance might go away before he had to respond to it. "Sam -- are you all right? What the hell -- "
Mahoney hit him, a fist in Weyer’s gut that jolted the wind from him. Then he slammed his other fist against the side of Weyer’s face. Weyer collapsed into a ball on the ground and Mahoney swung his foot for a kick but fell off balance when Lifton grabbed his shoulder.
The shouting confused him and he closed his eyes until he felt steady enough to stand on his own again. When he looked around he saw Weyer standing in front of him, his face red and angry. Sindel stood next to him, his eyes locked intently on Mahoney. Lifton stood between them in a defensive stance, but Mahoney wasn’t sure which man she was protecting.
He jabbed a finger at Weyer. "You killed her. You son of a bitch."
"He’s ill," Weyer told Lifton. "We should give him a sedative and -- "
"You sent Sindel-jai to buy asfani in the Red Zone!" Mahoney pointed his finger. "That’s why they sent Fellin to kill Sindel-jai. But Dara found out you gave him her medical supplies to trade, so when you found the knife in Sindel-jai and Dara was unconscious you killed her too." He lunged at Weyer but Lifton held him back. She looked over her shoulder and motioned one of Mahoney’s security people to her.
"He’s lying," Weyer said. "He’s been in the Red Zone. He’s delusional. Confine him to his tent. That’s an order."
"He killed Dr. Schliefe," Mahoney insisted.
"That’s enough!" Weyer glared at Lifton. "I want this man confined!"
Lifton muttered something to a security guard, who hustled away with a nod.
Sindel waved an arm and cut in. "Tell me if you made reprisal."
"We couldn’t…." Mahoney paused, then shook his head. "I’m sorry. They killed Tulem and they captured me. They said -- "
"How come they didn’t kill you?" Lifton asked.
"It’s against their law to kill humans."
"The outlanders have agreed to not harm you under any circumstances," Sindel said. "I believed they had broken that agreement. Weyer, tell me now if what Mahoney says is true."
"It’s crazy! He’s delirious! Look at him! He was sleeping with Schliefe and now he just wants revenge!"
Mahoney leaped at Weyer but Lifton tackled him to the dirt. Weyer backed away, his eyes wide with fear, and two more security guards held Mahoney back as he struggled to his feet.
"Our treaty with the outlanders has been violated." Sindel’s voice was flat as a cliff face. "If your actions have led to Sindel-jai’s death then everything will change."
"Why won’t you listen to me?" Weyer demanded. "Can’t you understand what I’m saying? Don’t you see -- "
Then the guard Lifton had motioned to appeared next to her, holding a small sack in his hand. "Here."
"No!" Weyer’s face turned scarlet. "That’s not -- "
Lifton opened the sack, frowned, and lifted out a small jug. "What’s in here?"
"Open it," Mahoney said.
"No!" Weyer shouted, his eyes wide.
"Do it," Mahoney said. Lifton yanked the stopper and tilted her head for a whiff.
"Strong stuff." She held it toward Sindel.
Sindel bent his face forward and sniffed. His face darkened, and with a quick, almost frantic motion he slapped the jug from Lifton’s hands. It hit a stone and broke into three large shards, spilling a thick brown liquid on the ground.
"Asfani," Sindel said.
"That was in his tent," Lifton said.
"Where’d it come from, Weyer?" Mahoney asked.
"I got that -- where did you -- "
"From the Red Zone," Sindel said.
"It was a gift!" Weyer shouted in desperation. "From that delegation two weeks ago -- "
"The doc left some notes about the medicine that disappeared," Lifton said. "She had a hunch someone might have been selling them."
"Lifton, this is your last chance!" Weyer was gasping as if someone had a hand around his throat. "I want this man arrested and -- "
He never finished. Mahoney saw Sindel’s hand move faster than he’d ever seen a human’s hand move and then a long dagger with a curved blade buried itself in Weyer’s chest.
"Reprisal is made," Sindel said and Weyer’s body toppled to the dirt.
####
Mahoney insisted they not be buried side by side so they put Dara near the top of the hill outside the camp where they’d made love, and buried Weyer in a meadow far from view. The Cintarans left Sindel’s blade stuck in the dirt to mark the spot.
"You okay, sir?" Lifton asked as he sat next to Dara’s grave on the hillside.
"Yeah." Every breath still hurt from his exposure to the Red Zone but that would go away, the Cintarans said. The empty feeling that filled his head would take longer to fade.
"Sindel says everything’s even. We can stay here and keep trading as long as we follow the rules." Weyer’s second in command, a woman named Foster, had spent hours talking things over with Sindel’s people and planned refresher training for everyone on behavior protocols in the morning.
"Good." Dara wouldn’t have wanted them to pull up and leave. The Cintarans were honest and straightforward. He hoped they wouldn’t pick up any human habits.
"You’re off the schedule until tomorrow. I put you back on for the first watch. Is that okay?"
"That’s fine." He looked up and let himself smile. "You did good, Lifton."
"Just following your lead, sir."
She left him alone. He sat next to Dara’s grave and watched the sun drop behind the forest.
####
"This isn’t going to last, you know?" Dara said.
They walked next to the river. She was looking for herbs to analyze for potential medical purposes.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Once the job is over we’ll go our separate ways. The galaxy’s a big place."
He put his hand in hers. "We don’t have to."
They kissed.
But he knew Dara was probably right. She usually was.
THE END
© 2006 by John M. Cowan
Bio: John Cowan edits newsletters on leadership and business management, and has written articles on speechwriting, public speaking, communication, technology, and dozens of other topics he can't think of right now. He lives in Chicago with his lovely wife, their son, and an extremely large cat named Climber. His story Sacred Spear appeared in the April 2005 edition of Aphelion.
E-mail: John M. Cowan
Comment on this story in the Aphelion Lettercol
Or Return to Aphelion's Index page.