Guerilla (14 page)

“The Army established a FOB, a forward operating base, near Sombra de la Montána because the terrain lent itself to guerilla action. My father's unit performed surgical strikes against the Colombian leaders, going into the city, hitting targets, then fading into the jungle.”

“So he was a soldier? Like you?” Noojin asked, interested in spite of herself.

“Yeah. He was special ops, a guerilla, trained to work behind enemy lines.” Sage advanced the vid and showed some of the battle scenes from that war. Burning vehicles occupied streets filled with victims' corpses. “My father's unit was up against some really bad odds, but they held it together.”

“Your mother and father met there?”

“They did. Some of the men in Sombra de la Montána traded goods with ­people in Bogóta. They would bring back information about the Colombian soldiers. One of those men was my mother's brother. My father ate in her father's house and listened to the reports from her brother. According to my father, he fell hard for my mother. He wasn't a soft guy. He didn't believe in love at first sight, and he was a soldier with a mission. But he always said there was something about my mother that he just couldn't pull back from.” As Sage looked at the vid images, he could remember sitting with his father on their back porch, talking about his mother after she had died. Both of them had been emotionally distraught.

“He married her.”

Sage nodded. “I was born there the following year, and the war went on for eleven years before the Colombian army overran Sombra de la Montána. My mother refused to leave even though my father begged her to take us out of the village. Later, when the Colombians invaded, my father and his unit evacuated as many of the ­people as they could. They got my mother and me out, some of the other villagers, but not many of them. My grandparents and uncles and aunts and most of my cousins were killed when the Colombians rolled into the village.”

“You think that because you tell me this story, I'm going to tell you what I know?” Noojin stared at him, clearly unimpressed.

“No. That story was just to let you know we have more in common than you might suspect. And it was to set up the story I'm going to tell you now.” Sage delved back more deeply into the memories, and this one he didn't like telling at all. In his whole life, he'd only told it to a handful of ­people.

“Sad stories aren't going to break me. If I want those, all I have to do is walk through my sprawl.”

Sage ignored her, but he had to clamp down on a small spark of anger before it got out of control. “Before the Colombians destroyed Sombra de la Montána, I had a friend who lived there. His name was Danilo Arango. When I was eleven, he was fifteen. We hunted and fished together. Danilo had a girlfriend named Soraya, who was his age.”

The room's environmental controls kicked on with a slight thump. Noojin sat on the other side of the table and feigned disinterest, but Sage knew she was listening.

“Danilo loved Soraya,” Sage went on. “I used to get mad at him and give him grief over it. He ignored me because he was happy being with her.” He pushed the emotion away and concentrated on putting words together. “He was spending more time with her than he was me. Then one morning, Soraya was found dead outside of the village. Someone had raped her and killed her. No one had seen anything. No one knew how such a terrible thing could happen.”

“Did anyone find out what happened to her?” Interest lighted Noojin's eyes.

“I went to Danilo and talked to him. He told me that two men from another village caught him and Soraya the night before. They stabbed him and thought they'd killed him, but he saw everything they did to Soraya. Later, when he got strength back, he stumbled back to the village.”

“Didn't he tell anyone what happened?”

“Me. He told only me.”

“His parents didn't notice that he was wounded?”

“Danilo was an orphan. With the war going on, there were lots of orphans in the village.”

“You didn't tell anyone?”

Sage shook his head. “Danilo asked me not to.” In his mind, he could see his friend at the back of the hut where they'd bandaged him up. “He swore me to secrecy. I was a kid, and I took things like that seriously. I guess I still do.”

“Why didn't your friend want anyone to know? Was he ashamed?”

“Maybe he was ashamed, but mostly he wanted revenge on those two men that hurt Soraya. He was afraid no one would believe him. I don't know if anyone would have, and if they would have done anything about the murder of one girl. Times were very confusing then. That was only weeks before the Colombians attacked the village, so Soraya's death was a small thing compared to all the other fear ­people had.” Sage pushed images of Danilo from his mind, but it was hard. He still remembered the wound in his friend's chest and the pain in his eyes. It was an old story and the hurt was almost thirty years gone, but it lingered. “After Danilo healed up, he disappeared. Three days after that, some of our hunters found Danilo dead, his throat cut, out in the jungle. He was dressed up in battle paint and carried a warrior's weapons. A bow, machete, and an old laser rifle that didn't hold a charge for long. Nobody but me knew why he was dressed that way.”

“Did you tell anyone then?”

Sage nodded. “I had to. I couldn't keep that to myself. To my way of thinking, I'd let Danilo get himself killed. So his death was partly my fault. By the time I told my father, the Colombians were almost upon us. We had to get ready to leave.”

“What about the men that killed Danilo and Soraya?”

“They got away. Nobody ever knew who they were. Danilo never told me their names. He might not even have known. He went after them and they killed him. Or someone did.”

A flicker of anger ignited in Noojin's eyes. “You think to frighten me with that story? To make me think about being the only person who can name those men that attacked the fort? To consider that they might want to kill me?”

“Or maybe Telilu?”

Noojin drew back at that, and Sage knew he'd made her look beyond herself.

“You're sure you can take care of yourself,” Sage said. “But can that little girl protect herself?”

“She doesn't know who they were.”

“Maybe those ­people don't know that. Then she'll be even more vulnerable because she'll never see them coming.”

That had never occurred to Noojin. Horror twisted into her face as she considered that.

Sage went on softly. “There's a young soldier in the hospital ward right now who has to undergo skin grafts and other surgery for simply doing his job. He's not much older than you and Jahup, and he's going through a lot of pain, and he's got physical therapy ahead of him before he's himself again. He's only been on Makaum a short time. He arrived when I did. He hasn't made any enemies.”

“I tried to warn him.”

“I know, and that's why you're going to give me the names now. Because you want to protect ­people.”

She shook her head.

“And because if you don't tell me,” Sage said, “Jahup is going to want to know who almost killed you, and who almost killed his little sister. He's not going to leave this alone.”

“I won't tell him.” Desperation gleamed in her eyes.

Sage kept his voice soft and insistent. “Jahup's going to keep asking, and keep asking, until one day you do tell him who those men were. And when you do, what do you think Jahup is going to do? Sit back quietly and let those men get away with it? Even if you don't tell him, he's going to start asking around, and he may get close enough to the ­people behind the attack to get himself hurt because he doesn't know who they are either. Because you didn't tell him.”

Noojin wrapped her arms more tightly around herself, and from the slow panic easing into her features, Sage knew he'd gotten to her.

“Jahup won't let them get away with it,” Sage said. “Once he knows those names, and he'll get them eventually, he'll go after those men. And he'll probably get himself killed because he's not going to be ready for them.” He let the silence between them grow heavier. “You don't want him doing this alone, and don't think the two of you are good enough to do this on your own.”

When Noojin looked at Sage again, tears sparkled in her eyes. “I don't want Jahup hurt.”

“I know. Neither do I. That's why I'm here. Those guys nearly killed you, and they nearly killed his little sister. Jahup won't let that go. You know that.”

Noojin wiped her tears on her sleeve. “I didn't see all of the men.”

“That's fine. Give me the names of those that you know and I'll take it from there.”

 

FIFTEEN

Security Building

Fort York

1739 Hours Zulu Time

N
oojin couldn't believe how weak she'd been. Crying in front of the Terran sergeant was embarrassing. She didn't cry in front of anyone. She wasn't some empty-­headed female who couldn't control her emotions. She was a hunter. A
good
hunter. She wasn't this emotional person who couldn't control herself.

True to his word, Sage had freed her from the interview room, but she also believed that he knew she had nowhere to go. She couldn't be with Jahup, though that was what she wanted most of all, because Jahup would ask the questions the sergeant said he would ask.

And she didn't want to go home to the small house she shared with three friends. They were merely acquaintances, ­people to live with, not family. Her family, like Jahup's mother and father, were dead. She was like the orphan in Sage's story.

She walked to one of the small commissaries set up throughout the fort, drawn by the smell of coffee. Makaum didn't have coffee, though some of the offworlders were now experimenting with planting some seeds. The Quass and the trade council had seen a market for coffee beans. Many of the Makaum ­people had developed a taste for it.

The commissary was about half full of soldiers. Men and women in hardsuits sat at tables and talked quietly among themselves. Most of them stopped talking when Noojin entered, and she realized coming there was a mistake. She just didn't have anywhere else to go.

They knew who she was. Her skin and her hair and her clothes immediately set her apart from them. None of them trusted her.

Noojin stopped and turned around, ready to head for the door, then she noticed Sergeant Kiwanuka standing behind her.

Like many of the others, Kiwanuka wore a hardsuit and carried weapons. Her helmet hung at her hip. She smiled at Noojin. “I'm having coffee. Care to join me?”

Noojin wanted that because she didn't want to be alone, but she didn't want to talk to anyone either. Still, she felt she had something in common with Kiwanuka. She also knew that Kiwanuka hadn't just happened to find her there.

“Sergeant Sage sent you, didn't he?”

Kiwanuka didn't try to lie or avoid the question. “Yes. He and I both thought you could use some company right about now.”

“I told him everything I know.”

“I believe you.”

“Doesn't he believe me?”

“He does, but he also wants to make sure that you're okay. I'm here for you. You've been through a lot.”

“I'm fine.” Noojin made her words cold, trying to put that hard exterior back into place. If she needed anyone by her side right now, she needed Jahup, but that would be too complicated.

“I can see that. However, I'm going to have coffee, and I wouldn't mind some company. You can talk—­or not—­as you wish. What do you say?”

Noojin looked at the door. “If I leave, you're going to follow me?”

“Yes. The master sergeant wants you protected.”

“From what?”

“From anyone who wants to hurt you.”

“Doesn't he trust the soldiers here?”

Kiwanuka smiled. “You're not in any danger from the soldiers, Noojin, but there are outsiders on base. We've got things locked down tight, but there are still citizen employees at the fort. Sage wants to make sure you're out of harm's way in case the men from this morning have friends. Quass Leghef would expect nothing less.” She paused. “I know you like coffee. Jahup says you've developed a taste for it.”

“He's telling everyone what I eat and what I like to drink.”

“Not everyone. Just the master sergeant. Sage told me.”

“Where is Jahup? Why isn't he here?” Noojin felt betrayed by his absence.

“Master Sergeant Sage suggested Jahup give you some space for a while. He's still down in medical.”

Concern filled Noojin and for a moment she forgot about her problems. “Has something gone wrong? Sage told me Jahup was hurt.”

“It's nothing serious. The sergeant decided to have Jahup sedated so he could sleep while the nanobots repaired his ribs. Jahup had been up over thirty-­eight hours. Sleep is a good thing right now.”

“Do you know where Jahup and the sergeant went while they were gone?”

Kiwanuka shook her head, then took Noojin by the elbow and guided her to a small table in the corner.

“You wouldn't tell me if you knew.”

“Not if I was told not to, no.”

“Then how do I know you don't know where they went and what they were doing?”

“Because I'm telling you I don't know. If I knew and wasn't going to tell you, I'd tell you I wasn't going to answer your question. That's how you know.”

A server came by and Kiwanuka ordered two coffees. Noojin sat in silence and Kiwanuka didn't speak either. The coffee arrived and she waited till it cooled a little before sipping.

“What is Sage going to do about those men that attacked the fort?” Noojin asked when she couldn't endure the silence anymore.

“He's going to make things right.”

“How?”

“I don't know.”

Noojin stared into her coffee and tried to find answers in the dark liquid, but none appeared. “I've betrayed my ­people by giving those names to Sage.”

“No, you haven't. Those ­people betrayed you by breaking treaty. Evidently at least one of them would have killed you. Probably Jahup's sister as well.” Kiwanuka held her gaze. “This has to be settled before someone else gets hurt.”

“Do you think Sage is going to be able to do what he's doing without hurting someone?”

Kiwanuka hesitated for just a moment. “That depends on what those men do.”

“If this goes badly, things between the Makaum and your ­people are going to be worse.”

“The master sergeant is aware of that. That's why he's going to work through channels.”

Med Center

Fort York

2034 Hours Zulu Time

Sage came out of the twilight sleep he'd been put into and felt a little more rested. Unfortunately, two hours of sleep only put a sharper edge on the fatigue that filled him.

“You feeling okay, Top?” The med tech beside Sage's bed wore all white and looked earnest.

Leaning forward, Sage sat up on the bed and felt a momentary wobble of dizziness that sorted itself out when he closed his eyes and reopened them. He tested his injured shoulder, moving it in a circle. The muscles felt a little stiff and sore, but none of the pain he'd been feeling before the doctor had programmed the nanobots to fix his rotator cuff was there now.

“Feels right,” Sage answered.

“You'll have to do some physical therapy to get it back to peak.”

“Yeah, I know. I've been here before. Am I good to go?”

“Gimme a thumbprint and you are.” The orderly extended his PAD and took Sage's thumbprint. “I've sent the PT schedule to your PAD, Top, and scheduled you with one of our rehab ­people.”

“Thanks.” Sage already had ACU pants on. He slid out of bed and pulled on clean socks and his military boots, then slipped into a fresh olive-­drab tee shirt and ACU blouse. He ran a hand through his short-­cropped dark hair, but knew he wouldn't feel clean again until he'd showered and shaved. There was something about a hospital room that always seemed to leave a residue.

After checking the patient list, Sage went to see Private Trevor Anders in the ICU ward. Sage stepped through the clean zone and walked to Anders's bed.

The private lay quietly on the sterile white sheets. Cell-­stim fluid packs covered Anders's legs up to mid-­thigh. Other minor burns marred his upper body and the right side of his face, but all of those looked like they were healing well. Nanobot reconstruction worked quickly.

Sage was about to leave, but Anders must have sensed him standing there because the young man's eyes flickered open, took a moment to focus, then locked on the sergeant.

“Hey, Top,” Anders said in a drowsy voice that indicated he was on a constant pain-­management feed.

“Anders, how are you doing?” Sage stopped beside the private's bed.

“They tell me I'm doing good.” Anders licked his dry lips and looked up at Sage blearily. “They also tell me you're going to get the guys who did this to me.”

“I am. Want a drink?”

Anders smiled. “Yeah. Like you wouldn't believe. But it feels like I've already gone over my limit.”

Sage picked up the water bulb next to the bed and held the straw so Anders could get to it. The man sipped a little and swallowed slowly, then pulled away.

“Thanks, Top.”

“Sure.” Sage put the water bulb aside. “Anything else you need?”

Anders shook his head and glanced away. “I can't believe I got taken by surprise like that. Stupid mistake. I was thinking there was no way anyone would try to attack the fort. I figured patrol was just a waste of time.”

“Patrol is never a waste of time, soldier. We do it to stay safe and stay sharp, but no matter how thorough you are, surprises happen. You lived through this one, so that means you probably learned something. Focus on that.”

“Yeah.” Anders grimaced. “The thing that bothers me most is I nearly killed that girl and that kid. I was too quick on the trigger. The suit read the arrow shot as an attack, plotted the trajectory, and I came up firing instead of confirming the target. I should have held off till I knew what I was dealing with.”

“You should have looked for cover. When you're attacked, you find or create a defensive position first thing. That's something you've learned. We'll work on it in training when you get back on your feet.”

“Okay, Top.”

“You just get back in fighting shape, soldier. That's your job right now.”

“I will, Top.”

Sage nodded to Anders and headed back out of the ICU. He stopped at the outer ward and checked on Jahup. The young man looked small on the hospital bed, and guilt crept in over Sage when he thought about how he'd risked Jahup's life taking him out to the Phrenorian base. He hadn't thought about it until now, but Jahup was only a ­couple years older than Danilo was when he'd been killed.

Captain Karl Gilbride, one of the senior medical ­people on post, saw Sage and walked over to join him.

“Can I have a word, Top?” Gilbride was almost as tall as Sage. His brown hair was neatly clipped, a little long by Army regs. His face was square and handsome, and he had a rep as a lady's man.

“Of course, sir.” Sage stopped and faced the man. When they'd first met, they hadn't gotten along well. Gilbride was used to doing things the way he wanted to. Since then, Gilbride had grudgingly come around and shown respect for Sage. Gilbride was a top-­notch nano-­surgeon with a lot of experience, a good med person to have out in the field with a unit.

“Anders is doing really well,” Gilbride said. “He should be up and around in another week or ten days, once the cloned skin settles in.”

“That's good to hear, sir. You ­people do good work here.”

“Thank you, Top. I wanted to talk to you about Private Jahup.” Gilbride waved to the boy in the bed.

Sage's interest sharpened. “Is something wrong, sir?”

“No, nothing like that. I've got him sedated, as you requested. The ribs have already knitted, so he's ready to get back to work if that's what you want.”

After a brief consideration, Sage shook his head. “That's not what I want. Yet.”

“I thought as much, given the attack last night and his relationships with the girls. I want to know how long you want me to keep him here.”

“How long can you give me?”

“I can turn him into Rip Van Winkle.”

Sage frowned, not knowing what Gilbride meant.

Gilbride waved a hand in dismissal. “Old Terran literary reference. I can give you a ­couple days if you want, no problem. Frankly, Jahup can use the downtime. That young man came in here nearly exhausted. Sleep will be a good thing.”

“It shouldn't be more than a few more hours. I've got to set some things up without him being in the way.”

“Just let me know.” Gilbride hesitated for a moment. “I've got to ask, Top. Are we going to start seeing more wounded in here anytime soon?”

“I'm going to try to prevent that, sir. But I think we're all going to have to be prepared for things to get worse before they get better.”