looked at her with a blank uncomprehending expression. The explosion had probably hurt both their ear drums.
The pale private looked at her and then looked over at the mess in front of the house. Body parts lay everywhere. Larson turned and threw up. He was still heaving his insides out when Lio came back from checking on the native man. As she had thought, he was dead, a branch from the tree had speared him. She shook her head at the senselessness of it all.
Lio grabbed Larson forcing him forward. She had mouthed to him, “We have to get out of here.” It took two tries but he finally lip-read and stumbled towards the road. The villagers must have heard the explosion, they’d be here soon. They ran. After a few miles they saw a multitude of soldiers. Omomo and Larson’s hearing had somewhat come back, although it was like being in an echo chamber.
Some of the foot troops were wounded, mostly in the arm or leg. The encampment came into view with several tanks and transport carriers taking up a good portion of the clearing. Captain Allen came running up to her. He saw the blood on the front of her armored breast plate. “What happened? I didn’t know you were hurt.”
“I’m not. A native attacked me just outside the village. His house was nearby. The native tried to kill me with an arrow. Then, as I was bringing him toward his house, a native woman came out of the house with a radiant grenade. I shot her but she was close enough to send us flying. I’m assuming that the arrow-shooting native was her husband. He was killed when his body was thrown against a tree by the force of the explosion.” Again the senselessness of it all made her wince.
“We’ve lost five soldiers,” Allen informed her. “We got no warning, none.”
Sargeant Mulle came up, “Everyone is accounted for, Sir.” He looked over at Lio, frowning deeply. “You shut off your collar!”
“We were in a hurry to get back, I didn’t have time to chat,” she growled at the Sergeant. She didn’t like Mulle, considered him an overblown ass. Lio turned to Allen, “The native yelled, Bad, Bad Murderer at me. The man refused to tell me anything. Here is the arrow from Oreilly’s chest, and here are the villager’s arrows. I think you’ll find the arrowheads are titianum. Hardest metal known, will pierce through anything.”
The bewildered Captain Allen shook his head. “The natives attacked a group of soldiers on their way back. It was downright suicide. Our guys killed every last one.”
Mulle, on the other hand, felt little sympathy for natives. “We need to take them out, Sir.”
“NO!” Lio yelled at him, “This was an aberration, something strange is going on!” She felt like punching the Sergeant in his fat face.
“Oh, that’s right, you are from here, can talk their language. You are one of them! Aberration, that’s right you’re from the elite Red Wing Squad, they all use those fancy words. Well, Lieutenant Omomo, you can be as fancy as you like, I got five soldiers dead. Being a sympathizer to killers will only get more of our own killed.”
It didn’t matter to the ass that her tribe, where she’d grown up, had been miles away from here. Lio was eleven when she’d been taken to the North. She stepped forward, angry enough to kill the ignorant son of a bitch. Captain Allen stepped in front of her. “Stop, there has been enough killing today.” He turned to Mulle, “Get the troops loaded in the transports, we’re heading back to Camp now!”
Her hands clenched, Lio calmed down, learning to wait and get revenge was something acquired in her early years. It had taken patience to become a lobo rider, patience and intelligence. Sergeant Mulle could wait, but not forever!
“Lio, keep that famous temper of yours in check.” Capt. Allen admonished her, “No one is going to listen to you unless you keep it together. Don’t let those like Mulle goad you into ruining your chances of being heard. I agree with you, something is wrong here.”
“Yes, Sir.” Lio knew he was right but she’d run against the prejudices, the hostility to the natives of Capachuia for years and it was hard to keep her anger from showing. Few looked close enough at her to realize the similarities between her and the surrounding natives. She had the same coarse black hair, the slightly curved eyes and she kept her slightly pointed ears covered. Having lived the second half of her life in the north, her sophistication hid her native origins.
The army was here displacing thousands of tribes to make way for the development of the upper southern continent. The northern continent was getting crowded, the planet’s population needed more in-planet food grown. These lands that were populated by the Capacuhias were fertile. The army was moving the tribes lower, to less desirable lands.
Lio strongly disagreed with the policy but had learned early on that her opinion meant nothing. The XLD, Xeco Land Development Company, was at least paying the tribes to relocate and helping them set up new villages.
The planet Capa was divided between two hemispheres. The northern prosperous cities thrived on being an industrial and financial area. The southern part of the planet had been left to the Capachuias until the northern part had run out of room.
Lio had lived in both parts. When her parents had died, she’d been transported to her father’s sister’s house located outside the northern hemisphere’s capital city of Kes. Her Aunt and Uncle lived on a small grain farm and had no children - she had become their most beloved daughter. She missed them both. On their deaths, she’d joined the army, becoming one of the elite Red Wings for over ten years. Now all she wanted was to finish out her enlistment, with eight months to go.
The two hour ride back to Camp Bolk seemed long. This was the first combat these troops had seen. They’d mostly been relocating docile natives. The fervor of excitement was all around her. Larson had sat next to her and was silent. Perhaps his ears bothered him, perhaps his conscience. She wasn’t a babysitter, he’d get over it.
Lio went straight to the barracks. A short shower and new khakis were a welcomed relief. This was the southern hemisphere’s spring. The weather was unusually mild. A short jacket was all Lio need. Her body needed some food; heading toward the mess was next. The chow wasn’t that bad, wasn’t that good either. Ten years of eating army food made the taste buds numb, although at Fort Junte, the lobo riders ate better and healthier food. The lieutenant hated to admit that Mulle was right, the elite were treated well.
“Lieutenant Lio,” came from over her shoulder. “You are wanted immediately in Captain Issie’s office, Sir.”
“Thank you private.” It amused her that sometimes the female officers were called Sir or sometimes Ma’am. She reluctantly rose, leaving half her rations on the tray. Going to see Issie could ruin an appetite. With her just cleaned boots, she crossed the mud filled lanes between tents and headed toward the wooden square structure known as the Offy B or the Officer’s Office Building. Inside was Capt. Issie’s suite of rooms. He was the base’s psychologist.
She hadn’t sat in his reception area long when he called her into his office. After she had saluted, he said, “Sit, Lieutenant.” He pointed to the chair in front of his desk. So, we’re just having a chat, she thought.
“You had a bad day out there.” He put his small computer tabloid in front of him.
“Yes, Sir,” she answered. Lio had learned the less she said the faster she’d get out of his office.
“Private Larson came to me today. The private is having trouble with what happened out at that village hut. It was his first fatal shooting, remember he use to work in the stables at Fort Junte. He didn’t see combat taking care of the lobos.
“Yes, Sir,” Lio wasn’t going to tell on Larson. As a loyal member of the team, she hoped Larson would get over it; everyone had a hard time with their first “kill”. Lio did, although it had been a long time ago. “He’s a new recruit - couldn’t bring himself to shoot the small women despite the fact the native was about to kill him with a grenade.”
“Yes, he told me.” He fiddled with his tabloid, as if he needed to do something with his hands. “I wished you’d come to me with it.”
&n
bsp; “I didn’t realize he had taken it so hard, Sir.” She sat docile, hands folding in front of her.
“Fine, fine. Next time report it please.” The doctor seemed to be dismissing her so Lio started to get up but the psychologist wasn’t done. “How long since you’ve visited Lissy’s grave?”
The question took her by surprise. For a moment, Lt. Omomo thought she’d lie to the psychologist but decided that Issie probably knew anyway. “Last week Sir, when I had a day’s leave.”
“Hemm,” he put his hands together in a pyramid type grasp. “Do you think we need to resume our therapy discussions?”
“No, Sir.” She looked over at him, he was expecting her to say more. “I’m much better Sir. No need. I’ll be home in eight months, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Ah, yes. A grain farm, isn’t it? Left to you by your parents?” He sat back in his chair. “Well, I’m here if you need me. We don’t expect you to be completely free of the bird’s bond just like that,” he snapped his fingers.
The doctor’s words got Lio’s ire up, “She was a lobo, sir, classified as animal not bird! Because she flew didn’t mean she was a bird.”
“Yes, right,” he said, “my mistake. Still, if you need me, I’m here.”
“Thank you, Sir.” And this time he let her go. Lt. Omomo left the