Kris Longknife: Tenacious (Kris Longknife novellas Book 12) (17 page)

~The
People lived in peace and harmony,~ the bald woman sang.

~The People fished and hunted in peace and harmony.

~Then the hard demons came, and there was no peace and harmony.~

The woman moved around the fire. Sometimes she’d pound the butt of her totem hard on the deck. Other times, she’d wave it high over her head. Not for a moment did she stop moving, stop waving the stick passed down from grandmother to grandmother.

The others sat around the “fire” in the
Wasp
’s drop bay. The bald woman’s song went long, and had a lot of repetitions in it; how else would it have survived unchanged for so many years? There was also a lot missing. Kris spotted nothing about genetic manipulation, but that didn’t surprise her. The song had the basic facts down.

The hard demons had come. They had conquered and enslaved the People, and the People had wept bitter and bloody tears. In time, the hard demons made the mistake of getting soft, or maybe they just got sloppy. The People rose up and slaughtered the demons, they took from them the power to walk the stars, and they then took their wrath and vengeance across the stars to where the soft demons lived.

The story got very gory at that point. It went into great detail on just how they disemboweled this one and chopped that one’s head off. ~Infants’ heads, they smashed against the stone,~ was one that particularly sent shivers down Kris’s spine, but the listening natives seemed to like that particular verse.

It was repeated many times, and they pounded their fists on the deck each time.

Jack held Kris closer when that happened.

The important part, the part that made listening to the gory tale worth it, came near the end. The warrior tribes that walked the stars met with the tribes that had not gone on the walk to the other world. Some were for walking the stars forever so that this could never happen again to them. Others were for taking their torn world and returning to the way it had been before.

There were many angry words. In the end, the two went their separate ways. But the anger of the Sky Gods still spilled on any who walked away from ~the ways from of old~ and tried to build a path that could lead back to the stars.

~We must walk the path of our grandmothers and their grandmothers.

~We must hunt along the path of our grandfathers and their grandfathers.

~You stray from the path and you will burn.~

The bald woman came suddenly to a halt. She spat those words at the bearded man.

~So, my man, what path will you have the people walk now?~

It appeared that Kris had guessed the family relationship right. Which only left her wondering if any old married couples were ever still happy?

She filed that away in “to be determined later,” and tried to figure out what to say next.

But the old man was already coming to his feet. When he spoke, it wasn’t to the woman but to all those around the fire.

~Our wisewoman speaks wisdom, as she does from of old. I would chose to walk the different path we set our feet to today.~

He paused, folded his hands across his chest, and went on. ~I do not see that we have walked it so far that we cannot walk back. If that is the way for you, walk it, and I will cheer you. I have seen the stars, and the logs these people ride in to float between the stars. My son’s son lives because of the craft they have to hunt for a lad’s smile. If these different star gods will have me, I will walk with them.~

“I didn’t see that coming,” Jack whispered to Kris.

“I expect there are a lot of surprises coming from these people,” Kris answered.

~Our son’s son still lingers at the hole down into the earth,~ the old woman jumped in, reminding any who might have forgotten the child sleeping fitfully in the medical-quarantine tent.

~Yes, and I do not know what tomorrow’s sun will shine on,~ the grandfather agreed. ~Still, having fed your eyes on what we ate today, would you not follow this path?~

~It is not the path of my grandmother and her grandmother.~

~No. There is more to eat here,~ he said. The deck of the shuttle was littered with the leavings from the strange feast the Marines had provided.

~Are you sure they are not demons?~ the old woman demanded. ~Different from the hard-skinned demons~—her eyes picked out dark-skinned Gunny Brown where he sat cross-legged by the “fire”—~but demons just the same?~

The friendly alien leader drew his flint knife and raked its blade across his forearm. Red blood flowed.

Both of the aliens, old man with a bleeding arm and the wisewoman with all the accusations, looked at Jack.

Jack stepped forward and offered his arm. The man cut it. Red blood flowed.

Gunny had seen the look the woman threw in his direction. He might not have understood the words, but he read the glare perfectly. He rose from his place and came to offer his black arm to the knife.

Again, the flint blade cut flesh. Again, the blood dripping onto the deck was red.

~I will not speak for you,~ the old alien man said. ~I will speak for me. I will follow after these people. Where they walk, I will walk. Their people will be my people. Their enemies will be my enemies. This I say by soil and water. This I say by sun and moon. Let me live and die by these words.~

K
RIS,
I
THINK
G
UNNY’S GOT A NEW RECRUIT
,
Jack said on Nelly Net.

I
DOUBT THERE IS A
STRONGER OATH THESE
PEOPLE CAN SWEAR,
Jacques added.

W
HAT COMES NEXT?
Kris asked.

I
TH
INK WE WAIT AND SEE,
was all Jacques could say.

Two local men rose from their places and came to stand beside their leader. One of them was the boy’s father. A couple of women did, too, but not his mother. For a long minute, nothing more happened, then a couple of more men stood up but didn’t move to join the three.

Over the next couple of minutes more joined one group or the other. The bald woman moved from her husband’s side to where the other group stood.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Kris said.

“Do you think it’s as bad as it seems?” Jack asked.

“I think,” Jacques said slowly, eyeing both groups, “the admiral has the shape of things. How many of them brought their knives?”

“Ah, most of them,” Gunny said. “General, you want me to put an end to this?”

“No, I will,” Kris said, and stepped between the two apparently rival groups.

~You came to my ship in peace and harmony. I will have nothing else on my ship. In peace and harmony, you may leave it.~

~We came as one to your ship. We will leave as one,~ the bald woman spat.

~We are no longer one. I will not leave, I have sworn it,~ her husband spat.

~The men will carry your bloodless body home from this hunt,~ she spat right back. The look on her face was tinged with eagerness.

~Nobody will bleed out their lifeblood on my ship,~ Kris said.

The old woman raised her staff and ran at Kris, swinging it down hard.

Kris had kept on her spider-silk underarmor, something she didn’t normally do aboard ship, but then, she didn’t normally invite armed natives home for dinner either.

Armored or not, Kris didn’t like the look of that staff, but the blow was easily sidestepped. Gunny would be proud of her use of her hand-to-hand training.

Or not.

As Kris stepped in to strike a blow at the old woman’s abdomen, the alien flung herself down and rolled under Kris’s strike.

Recovering, she rolled back onto her feet and brought the stick up, ready to swing it again.

Jack stepped forward. ~Enough of this,~ he shouted.

~No, Jack. Wait.~

Kris backed away from the woman. ~Must all of you fight to choose the path for all of you?~

~That is the way of it from days of old,~ the bearded man said. ~We fight until one side yields or dies.~

A
ND WITH THE OATH HE SWORE, IT’S T
O THE DEATH FOR HIM,
Jacques provided on Nelly Net.

B
EFORE YOU OPEN YOUR GREAT
BIG MOUTH AGAIN, MY
DEAR, ARE YOU WEARING
YOUR SPIDER SILKS?
Jack asked.

Y
OU BET,
Kris answered.

O
KAY.
Y
OU’RE
A BIG GIRL.
D
ON’T GE
T YOUR THROAT SLIT.

~I am not from the days of old. I am from the stars,~ Kris said. ~We fight not for what the sunset saw but for what the sunrise will see. I say to all. Let her fight me for your path.~

That got a discussion going among them. It was apparent to all that the odds were pretty even if they all went at each other. It would be a long and bloody fight. Kris wondered how many families were split like the sick child’s mother and father. Did they really want to go at each other with stone knives?

The words flew fast and furious. Fists were shaken. For a while, Kris feared the two sides were going to split again into two different ones? Or into four camps?

Kris took the debating time to catch Gunny’s eye. “Bring me my totem stick.”

He grinned and brought her a puggle stick from the locker where the Marines stored their “playthings.”

The sight of a Sky God with a stick of her own might have gone a long way to settling the matter. Kris got the feeling that a lot of the natives wanted to see a fight between their wisewoman with her flint-armed totem and this strange brightly colored totem of the star walkers.

Finally, the graybeard stepped forward. ~We will do it after your way.~

The bald woman spat at him. ~You’re heart is blinded by a will you cannot surrender yourself to.~

~My heart turns its back on that will,~ he said, and turned his back on his wife.

The woman screamed and would have beaned him with her stick if Kris hadn’t gotten her puggle stick in between her rage and his head.

And took advantage of the woman’s blind rage to get a backhanded blow in that knocked the wind out of her.

The woman backed away from Kris.

Kris chose not to push her advantage. While her puggle stick was nicely padded, it had a major disadvantage over the woman’s stick. The bald woman could turn her stick into a long club. Kris’s stick was intended for thrust and parry in close.

This would not be a one-sided fight.

As Kris expected, once the woman caught her breath, she roared her anger, let the stick slip through her hand until she held it by the very bottom, and tried to club Kris over the head.

Kris sidestepped, angled her own stick to take the blow, and slide it down to the deck. Kris then stomped her shoe down on the club, careful of the sharp flint flakes, and almost knocked the stick from the woman’s grasp.

But the short woman used her diminutive size to drop to the deck and roll, thereby rolling the totem out from under Kris’s shoe.

“Ah, thank heavens for good Marine boots,” Kris said, and danced away before the woman could recover and take another swing.

“Good going, Admiral,” Gunny called. “You almost took it away from her.”

“If I get her stick, do I get to lead her clan?” Kris called to Jacques.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” the anthropologist answered.

The two women circled each other. The circle started wide, then got smaller.

The woman did what Kris expected. She charged Kris, holding the stick at its middle. She tried one quick hit at Kris’s head, then swiftly swung the other end low for Kris’s knees.

This kind of fighting was what Kris’s puggle stick was designed for. Kris parried both, easily, then took over the lead, going for the woman’s bald head, then her middle, then head again and middle, in rapid succession.

The woman struggled to keep up, but quickly fell behind. She lacked a modern diet and hours of practice at this. Kris crowded in, pushing from the middle as well as with the ends.

The woman fell back, but this time Kris pursued. Once, the woman landed a blow to Kris’s shoulder with her sharp flints, but Kris’s spider silks blunted it. Now Kris was landing blows. Hers were well padded. The Corps wanted its solders aggressive and well trained, not banged around and in the hospital.

Still, the woman felt the sting of the hits on her bare skin.

She also felt the sting as the crowd’s roar went up for Kris.

Kris finally got in a strong shove, and the woman sprawled backward. Her grip slipped on her totem, and it flew out of her hands.

Kris stood over her. ~Do you yield?~

The woman pointed at Kris. ~I hit her shoulder. The points did not cut her. She is a thick-skinned demon!~

The drop bay was dead quiet in a second.

O
H, OH,
came from Jacques.

H
OLD ON BEFORE
ANYBODY PANICS,
Kris answered.

She dropped her puggle stick and went to the gray-bearded man. ~Do you have your knife?~

He produced it.

~Cut my finger,~ Kris said, offering her thumb.

~Cut her shoulder,~ the woman on the deck demanded.

That would not work. Unless . . .

Kris unbuttoned her khaki shirt, and slipped out of it. For what she had in mind, she’d have to ditch her pants.

~She is a woman!~ seemed to come as a universal surprise.

~As is your wisewoman,~ Kris said, and began to skinny out of her spider silks. When her second skin lay on the deck, she offered the old man her shoulder.

~Cut me here.~

He did. Maybe more than he needed to. She bled.

Kris wiped her hand in her own blood and held it up for all see. ~I bleed red just like you. The skin I wear that turns back a spear point is the craft of our makers. This is the path I walk with my soft skin. I open that path to you. Follow me or get off my ship,~ Kris said, and turned away.

Jack met her with a blanket.

Dr. Meade was also there to slap on a bandage. “I better take care of that. It could leave a nasty scar.”

Kris headed for the medical center, where the boy was still fighting his battle with man’s oldest enemy. Before she moved into the antiseptic field, the graybeard came up to her.