"License to scare them, Cowboy," Hugh radios back. "Gimme one smoke on them, then we'll see what they do. Oh, and no need to aim away from them. This lesson plan includes a little...negative reinforcement."
"Copy that."
Cowboy pops a smoke round into his 40mm launcher, aiming for as near on a dead center shot as he can.
"Mola. You should get ready for return fire. This is liable to piss them off."
Zaef slides into his foxhole just in time to watch Cowboy's smoke grenade arc perfectly across the clearing. Its faint smoke trail ends when it impacts one of the "hidden" wherren right in the sternum with a crack heard all the way in the center of the camp. The lucky wherren yelps painfully and stumbles back before toppling over, stunned.
Then the smoke grenade detonates and puffs out a choking, thick smoke over the wherren.
There's a bunch of distant coughing, then two of the wherren try throwing spears and it becomes immediately apparent why the Imperium cleared out eighty to a hundred meters around their outpost. The spears are pretty accurate for being thrown blindly at Hugh's voice, but they land around sixty meters into the clearing. Sixty meters is pretty good for wooden spears, and it's great for a species with less efficient shoulder joints, but sixty meters isn't going to threaten anyone.
"RRRRAAAGHackrrfghcoughcoughcough" is the brazen, then pitiful, reply. It sounds like they're pulling back, and from the yelps, it sounds like the guy Cowboy beaned isn't just walking it off.
Cowboy reloads his M203 with a standard HEX round, watching his former target for any further movement.
(keys radio)
"Uh...We might wanna get that guy I just beaned with the 40 Mike Mike. Doesn't look like he's going anywhere for the time being, but any intel he might give could be of some value."
Mola claps Cowboy on the back and a few cheers and jeers go up along the foxholes when the enemy wherren skedaddle. It sounds like the wounded wherren might be getting dragged off by his friends now.
Half an hour of intense waiting later, it's pretty clear that the handful of wherren were advance scouts. Seeing the enemy spears fail to even threaten the foxholes, plus Cowboy's deadeye grenade picks up spirits around the camp a bit. The question of those spears' effectiveness comes up, and you learn that there's kind of an arms race between spear and bow. Bow enthusiasts (of which there are few, if any, among Hiigra's people) prefer the purported accuracy and range. They're weapons for the savannah tribes, where range actually becomes an issue. Hiigra's people prefer the stopping power of a sturdy spear. Most animals worth eating on Whiirr can kill you, and range means nothing in a jungle. You can't use a bow in melee, but a spear is versatile. Some warriors use slings, but you don't see many of them. It's a woman's weapon, used for small game or for a backup weapon. Of course, Sajuuk's wife Xena can crack skulls at 50 yards with a sling, so there's not much to be gained by starting an argument.
The wounded prisoners are on the mend. The two with missing hands are going to be down until after midnight at least. Semo's near-coma patient, however, is awake and lucid already. Hoei's lucid as well, and wishes he wasn't. He's not screaming anymore, but those guarding the Imperials can see the sweat beading his forehead even in the cool dome chamber and they know he's in (well-deserved by the team's opinion) pain.
After reorganizing the defenses to a semblance of normalcy, Hugh decides to check in on the wounded. He reserves Hoei for last.
"You're damn lucky Angel got you," Hugh says to the unrepentant Imperial. "A second later, my beam rifle would've taken your whole damn leg off. What was your plan, get yourself and your friends torn apart by angry Wherren?" Hugh shakes his head. "You're not hard, Hoei. You're just stupid and mean. Get it or don't, but stop wasting everyone's time with your bullshit."
Hoei laughs a "whatever" kind of laugh and winces through it. "It was an experiment," Hoei says. "Theory: Narsai'i will kill berserk wherren in order to save human prisoners." The wounded Keeper shrugs. "Meh, maybe. But Narsai'i killing wherren to stop them from killing Narsai caught in the middle? Or berserk wherren willing to kill Narsai'i on their way to us? It was a gamble, sure. But the result? Less defenders here for when our rescue arrives? Misgivings about your allies? Priceless," Hoei concludes.
Hugh grins right back at Hoei. "And what did you achieve? None of those. Stupid and mean, Hoei. Save the gloating for when you actually get something done."
Hoei smiles a customer service smile at Angel and Hugh. "No, no, I'm done. I'm just gonna watch."
---
It's later in the afternoon, and Luis is changing the bandages on Karol's head. The tall wherren winces once the air hits the gigantic knot on his hairy skull. Lufta, the warrior who got stabbed, sits upright on one of the mess hall tables, waiting his turn. He idly scratches at his dressing.
"Don't scratch!" Arketta warns as she enters the hab with an additional medkit.
Over near the autochef, the wherren who should be on their sleep cycle are putting the mechanical kitchen through the wringer. They try a combination, pour the resulting slop, liquid, or jello into a cup (it's always some variation on "drinkable"), and take turns testing the result. They have a puke bucket next to them, and it smells like they've been using it.
---
Outside, several wherren are collecting a large amount of wood and building what will be one hell of a pyre. They're pretty solemn as they go about their work, compared to the more raucous wherren testing the autochef.
Zaef has been watching the Wherren in the kitchen for a few minutes and it isn't until one of them uses the bucket before he sighs. "What are you doing?"
Luis keeps having to remind himself that he can't talk while working for fear of the Wherren equivalent of talking with one's mouth open. He takes a moment to echo Zaef's question, "So, what's with the experiementation? Autochef not playing nice?"
Sajuuk looks up from the bucket and sees his battle buddies. "Zaef! We are trying to make booze for tonight! Big party! Well, funeral, but party as well! Hard to explain... here, try this!" The warrior holds out the latest concoction from the autochef to Luis and Zaef. It smells like worms in the rain, but it definitely has an alcoholic tinge to it.
Zaef looks uneasily at the potion for a few seconds, then reaches for the cup. "Ah, hell. I've probably had worse."
He takes a swig, and knows he's in trouble when it takes a second too long to reach his lips. It tastes like snail slime mixed with tree bark-salty and viscous with too much 'natural' and 'earthy' flavor and not nearly enough alcohol.
Zaef looks at the Wherren for a second. "Tell you what, I'll make you guys a couple different shots to taste and see if you like 'em. Sound good?"
It sounds good to the wherren, but not so good to Luis. He's still got patients, and he doesn't want to see what a wherren malpractice suit entails. Arketta excuses them gently, saying, "We'll take you up on it once you get the kinks ironed out."
Luis nods, "I'm sure it'll be...great." He nervously eyes the remaining contents of the concoction. It bubbles at Luis, insulted somehow.
"Normally we have grog stored up for times like this," Karol tells Luis from the mess hall table. "When we know battle is coming. Tonight will be special, though. Sajuuk is right, it is both celebration and funeral."
Luis nods as he finishes changing Karol's bandages. It sounds like a tradition we have on Earth, holding a wake for the dead."
"The... Irish?" Arketta correctly remembers. "Luis, that was not a nice bar. Even though it was part of the experience."
Karol nods in response, prompting another wince. "We would of course have you join us. You lost your comrade as well, perhaps his ghost would find a home here if celebrated in our fashion."
"I didn't know Kang as well as I could have," Luis says. "This was his first mission with our group, but I think he would be glad to be comemorated that way."
"He will lie with good people." Karol takes his painkillers and sits back. Luis moves on to Lufta's stab wounds. The wherren's tough; he'll be ready for the battle, as long as the wherren wake doesn't take him out first.
"Why don't your healing talismans work on us?" Lufta asks, pointing to Luis' kauka. "We know they won't, but you are perhaps the first human who might tell us."
"The kauka were not made by us, or by the Imperium originally. They were developed by another race, who took the ancestors of the Imperium from our world and used them as soldiers in a war they could not fight themselves. The kauka was a device they invented and gave to the Imperium to make them better in battle. But since the ship that was to seed this planet with a Gate crashed, the Groi had no knowledge of your people, and they never made a kauka that would work for Wherren. Its effects may seem magical, but its abilities are limited by what it was designed for, just as a spear or bow is. Just like any of the other technology we or the Imperium use."
Lufta grunts as Luis reapplies the Earth field dressing over the Imperial foam coagulant. "I think maybe it's good that there are no talismans for my kind," he theorizes. "Without its magic, you can hurt your enemy and stop a fight, and both you and he might live. If wounds are made so fleeting to have no meaning, the only other recourse is to kill."
A series of jubilant cheers and howls suddenly goes up from the kitchen. It would seem that this is not the first time Zaef has coaxed moonshine from an autochef.
Zaef pops out of the kitchen with four more cups. "Remember, don't drink too much, we still have to get up on time tomorrow." He takes two of the cups and sets them down by Luis. "One for the doctor and one for his nurse. You don't have to drink it right now, of course," he says in English. Then he places a cup near Lufta and Karol each. "Two for the wounded warriors! Drink when you're ready. This'll help the pain go away."
Karol downs his right away, and with a cough and toothy smile pronounces it good. Lufta eyes his first. "Until I get my magic healing ring, this shall have to do, eh?" the warrior quaffs his cup and throws the light plastic down. It's not quite so satisfying as tossing down a shotglass; the cup just goes tok on the mess hall floor.
Arketta's face scrunches in puzzlement. "You... you put Dr. Pepper in this." She shakes her head and laughs.
---
Davis lets Hugh and Zaef do the talking to Hoei. He spots Kosai across the chamber, standing with her hands on her hips in a "really?" stance, talking to the Turai who lost his hands for the second time. They quiet down as Davis approaches.
Davis smiles slightly as he walks up. "Is it okay for me to talk to you now, or..."
"Will I flip out and try to kill you?" Kosai replies. "I can't really answer that until you speak more."
"Fair enough," Davis says. He motions to a storage crate nearby. "May I?"
"If I say 'no', are you going to just stand there?"
"Hey, I'm just trying to be friendly here," Davis says. "You want to talk standing up, we'll talk standing up. Just don't think it's fair for you to have to look up at me to talk if you want to take a seat, that's all."
Kosai waves at the crate. "Sit if you like. I am comfortable here." She remains standing.
"Thanks," Davis says, and sits down. "Been a long day, and it's not even over yet. I'm just checking in, seeing if you need anything over here, seeing if you have any questions, concerns, comments, criticisms, stuff like that. I didn't get to ask that last time, and I apologize. It was...insensitive of me to bring up what I did."
"We are fine here, thank you," the Rav-Turai prisoner says diplomatically.
"Good," Davis says. He shifts about a bit. "I couldn't help but notice the critique back at the demonstration. You think I was reckless?"
Davis sees a maelstrom inside Kosai take over. There's a swirling vortex of stab behind her look, but Kosai answers again in her calm, even tone. "No good came of that... spectacle."
"Why do you think that?"
Kosai looks at Davis like he's daft. "Your wherren soldiers, who have been guarding us, couldn't control themselves. My people goaded them into some foolish attempt to indirectly cause you casualties. The- why- Wait, you don't think it was a successful presentation, do you?"
"On all counts? No," Davis says. "Wherren were injured, Imperials were hurt, even if they were provoking a riot. That part was definitely not successful, and I apologize for that. But in terms of helping the Wherren here get their emotions out in a way that doesn't lead to them bottling them up and then snapping while they're in here, showing them that they're better than they've been treated by the Imperium? Or helping you all see them as equals, not as beasts? I think it went rather well. Those are noble goals, right? Look at the Wherren in here, do you see any animosity towards you?"
Kosai smirks. "Of course not. These are the ones whose training took. Do you see animosity from your prisoners towards you? Towards your wherren?"
Davis looks over to Hoei, who's still ranting at Hugh and Angel. "Yeah, I think I do."
Kosai nods. "It's unfair, isn't it? You have spent every waking moment caring for us. Making sure we're treated well, fed, even protected - from ourselves, from our guards, from your Sheen, from the Imperials coming to help. And I... appreciate how we've been treated for the most part. I don't feel I've been particulary hostile towards your people, and I don't think, except for the thing outside, any of us have been particularly... unruly prisoners, do you?"
"Nope, it's all gone rather smoothly," Davis says. "And it's not unfair, Kosai. It's the right thing to do. There's no honor in abusing those who you have power over, right?"
Kosai ignores the obvious bait. "Is there something we're not doing? Something we're doing wrong according to your strange Narsai customs? If there's something you need from us, let us know. I watch you - you come to Shenest, Hale, me - why us? Isn't it enough that we're cooperating?"
"Well, you're the leaders here, the others look up to you. Being on good terms with the three of you makes my job easier, if nothing else," Davis says. "But mostly, I find that there's a lot of misinformation out there about us, about the Imperium. Shenmai's painted us as barbarians and psychopaths, and the Imperium as the honorable bastion of civilization and order, or something like that, I don't remember the exact phrasing. And judging by the reactions of the others here, the true nature of the Imperium is quite different than what they thought it was, even amongst the Turai. Even you looked surprised, Kosai."
Kosai nods. "It seemed unnecessary, but neither of us were there. There m-"
"Oh, come on, Kosai. Tell me a situation where gunning down unarmed women, elders and children would be acceptable, let alone necessary," Davis says.
"All right, yes, my countrymen murdered a village. The Imperium does bad things," Kosai half-agrees, half-mocks. "But I know Narsai has done the same," she continues, pointing at Davis. "Because we - " she circles her finger, indicating everyone in the dome chamber - "are the same. When it's you or me, down in the dirt, I choose me and you choose you."
"If choosing 'me' means killing crowds of innocents? Then no, we aren't the same," Davis says. "We'd rather do the right thing and lose today, because there's always tomorrow for victory, but doing something like that taints you forever. Whatever the ravilars and the Emperor has told you, we draw a line, Kosai, and the death of innocents is definitely crossing that line."
Kosai shakes her head. "No Narsai'i has killed innocents. Really."
"Oh, they have," Davis says. "But if they are caught, they are severely punished for it, not promoted. There is nothing acceptable about it."
"Good," Kosai agrees. "That is how it should be. The Turai under my command will not be animals." Kosai claps her hands together. "Now, we are agreed that killing innocents is bad. You're not going to join my side, and I am not going to join yours."
Davis smiles. "I wish you luck with that, Kosai. The Imperium needs to act more humane, but I've seen the Cortex files on who they choose to promote, and trust me, an attitude like that won't get you anywhere in the Turai. You haven't 'proven your dedication' until you've killed a few villages, first."
Kosai nods grimly. "And I've killed mine. When, if, I become Hand that Guides the Sword, perhaps I can change that."
"Or maybe, and this really is just a suggestion, you consider the side that already condemns such things," Davis says. "Just something to think about." He stands up. "Thanks for the talk, Kosai."
Zaef grins. "And it tastes better because of it! Now, I need to go clean out the puke bucket before it gets used again. Flying spink shit, it's just like having a crew all over again!" He cries as he heads back into the crowded kitchen.
