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Graax has told Buck about how his people came to Earth and how there’s primarily two different races on Squaattoos.
The Lebe’piti were made from the Pxelepiti. The Pxelepiti are motivated by self-gain and sex. They were the original people on Squaattoos, better suited for survival in a savage world. The Lebe’piti, “the changed people” are motivated by the achievement of knowledge in and for the sake of itself and doing things for the greatest good. Graax saw six Pxelepiti at church.
Buck believes Contention City should take Graax’s warning seriously and kill or capture these Pxelepiti. We don’t want humankind going the way of the Indian after all, Buck maintains. The members of the City Council—except for brainclipped Hardy—ignore him saying that’s all probably ill feelings from back on Squaattoos. There’s no reason to get in the middle of that fight. Furthermore, Contention City has just weathered a severe storm. All those men who’d be off fighting the Pxelepiti could be fixing the town up.
Buck doesn’t agree. He recruits Skinner Alexander, a former ne’er-do-well who has become a respectable citizen, to go against the Pxelepiti. He also pulls in former tramp and now food worker Cletus Daniels, a couple of prospectors (Joshua Friedman and Malcolm Davies) and newsman Hank Atwell.
Before they get out of town, Buck faces off with some of the councilmen. He’s not going to have a job as sheriff when he comes back.
For more information and for Science Fiction Western adventure see www.sfwestern.com.
Episode 38
"I want everybody to keep their eyes wide open. You see anything strange, speak up. That's number one. Only way we have a chance is if we talk," I said, shouting over the wind and galloping hooves. It was terrible conditions under which to be understood. I cursed the weather and hoped the men heard me. They either didn't hear or didn't believe in acknowledgment with their voices or eyes.
As we rode, it got windier. The unseasonably cold air snaked its way through the fibers of my clothes. My great coat only kept me half dry. I freverently hoped the wind didn't blow into a sister storm to match the earlier one.
Graax's face was unreadable as he looked ahead. I fretted about the unknown amount of ground we'd have to cover. I didn't know the best way to search for aliens since they could conceal their appearance easily. I had to rely on Graax to tell me when he spotted one. It was unsettling to be so reliant on one person. What if something should happen to him?
The best place to look for an alien encampment would be in the Chiricahua Mountains. I reasoned that if I were an alien in southeastern Arizona, I'd build my fort in the nooks and caves to conceal everything needed to mount a war. Geronimo sure made good use of the formations.
We decided to look there first. Then there would be the Dragoons, Dos Cabezas and the Piňalenos. Then we'd head back to Contention City and look to the west. It could all take months.
I wondered if we'd see a space ship. "They don't have some kind of contrivance to make their ship invisible, do they?" I asked Graax, having to explain what "invisible" meant.
"Not to sight," he said. "Unless things have changed."
So they might have walked in and wandered through the hills.
A little later I had to ask the inevitable question: "Why Contention City?"
"I don't know. They didn't tell me," he said.
"I expected that, Graax."
"We knew there was a mineral rush, similar to one in Squaattoos history, one reason why Carxx and I studied this area. Someone might think silver from another planet could be even more valuable," he said.
"Wouldn't silver just be silver?"
"There's other minerals too. They might be after one of those."
"Sure," I said. "There's turquoise, copper, yeah. People come from all over, why not other planets as well?"
In my role as military commander, I hoped my musty skills would reassert themselves sooner than later. Remembered lessons came back in dribs and drabs.
"Remember!" I warned. "They could be listening! Use whatever motions you can instead of speaking. Right Graax?"
He nodded, tolerantly perhaps. I'd violated that dictum with my briefing and many times before and since. I'd knew I'd need to be more circumspect and communicate better, though I didn't see how. Some information is too complicated to gesture out; writing notes wouldn't work. Surely, some of these men couldn't read.
"They can listen to us without our knowing," I said. "They've got things we've never dreamed of—right Graax?"
He agreed, nodding. He'd been quiet for a while. Maybe he looked upon our sorry-looking group as a colony of ants preparing to attack a bear. Maybe he was right, but what could be gained by negative thoughts?
"Tell us more. I'm just repeating what I learned in the Army. We never fought the Pxelepiti; never even dreamed of them. More so, I've forgotten most of what I once knew," I said.
This comment met more silence from Graax. His reaction, told me I was acting too nervous. I believed worrying never did any good, but was never able to act like that.
For the benefit of the men, I said, "I was pretty good in my time in the Army. The skills come back quickly." Even though the men were mind-controlled, I knew they needed to have confidence in their commander. Without it, there'd be a hesitation to follow. I knew from experience that if you worried too much in front of your men, you lost their respect.
But worry I did. My mind conjured up terrible visions of humanity's fate. I doubted Graax had been completely forthright. Why'd he wait so long to tell me about the Pxelepiti threat? Now it was difficult to do anything about it. Second, these aliens were from his home planet. Might that not count for something in his thinking? Were I in his place, I might have favored creatures from my home planet over those from another. It would be the same thing as one race favoring its own.
I wished he'd repeat what he'd told me, the bits of information that compelled me to go out and mind control the men. I wished he'd tell me everything again and again like a parrot. I needed to have this new reality reinforced.
Daniels seized on my uncertainty. His true self didn't want to be there. The brrkup didn't allow him any say in the matter or he might've been able to influence the rest of the posse.
"Doesn't seem like we've got much chance against them. Shouldn't we wait for the Army?"
"We don't want them to get too dug in," I said wearily. "If we allow them to fortify, assuming they aren't already, we'll never get rid of them."
Graax broke his silence. "There's nothing I can tell you that I haven't already. Do the best you can."
"I'm not sure all of us understood everything you've said about the Pxelepiti. They might like to hear again about flesh shapers, for example," I suggested.
"What's that?" Skinner asked, riding in the back of the formation, straining to hear.
"Flesh shapers let Pxelepiti look like humans." I wished I hadn't mentioned it now, fearing the aliens might be listening. I had to balance my men's need for information with my paranoia about the types of technology the aliens might have. I wondered whether they might be able to read my very thoughts! But what was done was done.
"Please go on," I said to Graax.
"I don't know right exactly what weapons they have," he said. "Could be nigh impossible to stop them, but this is your planet. They may come as fighters, or maybe businessmen. Either way, you've got to try even though your inventions and equipment may be on a different level than the Pxelepiti. You people have a lot of potential."
"Thanks, Graax. I doubt that potential sometimes," I said, reaching over to pat him on his back. "We're not going to give up. If we did, we'd really be lost."
My alien friend regarded me quizzically. "I talk only of odds. Even if there are but a few of them, your force could succeed. You must fight them as well as you can. You must prevail. I will help you however I can.
"Pxelepiti organizations demand riches from their exploits. Many of them won't even see you as people. They will think of you just like what some of you think about the darker-skinned people whom you call niggers here. Not all of them are like that, but enough are.
"The only thing you can be sure of is that they bought all the equipment they needed."
That sparked me up like a gulp of hot coffee, burned my spirit and raised my fighting instincts to their zenith. There it was, right out on the table: Fight or else.
This ragtag and bobtail made an ineffective force even if the brrkup made them courageous. We had to capitalize on whatever assets we had. Truth is, you're not doing anything with a force without fighting spirit.
"You hear that? We're fighting for the world and everyone on it!" I cried out.
They whooped; I felt better about our chances.
A vague plan began to coalesce in my mind; we needed to be ready for anything and confident we could meet the challenge. The details would have to come later.
Graax could see in the dark almost as well as he could see during the day. He had advantages over us, but some disabilities as well. When I put my arm around him and asked him how he was doing, I found him shivering, probably because he found it cold. To a human, it was cold, maybe in the low fifties (10 or 11 degrees Celsius), but none of us were shivering. He never complained.
We kept riding into the wee hours of the morning, until the horses couldn't go any further. At some point, when one day gave way to the next, all I wanted to do was set up camp, collapse, and sleep. The men were no different. Still, we kept riding past the point of exhaustion and despite the rain.
I forced the posse to keep going, tired as everyone was. Normal troops in the same shape would likely have refused to go on. But the brrkup mandated the obedience of my men, making them put forth extra effort. They trudged on. A good general makes use of whatever advantage he has. I hoped to be a good general.
Despite his crash landing, Graax's reserves of strength were amazing. He was fully healed. As long as he could keep going, freezing or not, we should keep up. We had a planet to save.
Though the men were mind-controlled, it didn't stop them from complaining. I didn't try to stop them either, figuring it might do them some good to vent their frustrations. The complaining was reflecting their inner character and thoughts, and there wasn't any way they could act on those thoughts anyway. I was grateful we were facing the Pxelepiti with the brrkup rather than without it.
"I don't mind the rain," I lied. I figured the Squaattoosians wouldn't have rain like ours on their planet. Maybe their equipment and training hadn't been designed with Earth rain in mind. It might take them time to become accustomed to this weather. The colder it got, the more Graax shivered. I decided not to consult Graax about these ideas. I considered the miserable weather an advantage. I didn't want to surrender it to reality. We were short of advantages.
There's a little bit of Chief Wovoka in every military commander, and I was no exception. There's a little of his Ghost Dancers's hopes in every fighting force. I prayed this fight wouldn't end as badly as it did for the dancing warriors at Wounded Knee.
"Just what are we looking for?" Friedman asked in his clipped New York accent.
"Anything out of the ordinary," I said, cooly.
"How am I supposed to know what's out of the ordinary when I've never been out here before?" he said.
Such questions exasperated me even though they were reasonable. It was a difficult mission with inexperienced men and competing priorities. So much rode on its success.
I answered more harshly than I should have. "Look, dummy," I said. I admit that my reaction to such an honest question showed how unsuited I was to command such a mission. "You know what this land is supposed to look like, right? It has hills, junipers here and there, right? Palo Verde?"
"I guess so," Friedman admitted reluctantly. Nobody wants to admit knowing less than they're expected to know by others.
"You know what the people on it are supposed to look like," I continued. "Right?"
"What do you mean?"
"People. People who look like people."
"Yeah," Friedman said, affirming that reluctantly as well.
"I wish I could give a clearer answer, Friedman, but I can't. If it looks out-of-the-ordinary, then suspect it. Right? We're looking for what's suspicious," I said. "But remember, what looks out of the ordinary may not necessarily belong to the Pxelepiti. Graax, here, will be doing most of the looking anyway. He can see things we can't. Still, you best keep your eyes open. Sabe? We're all here to back each other up in case we get in trouble. Do you understand?"
"Understood," came the reply.
"We don't want the Pxelepiti on our planet.
"If any of you got better ideas on how to do this, speak up. Time is running short," I said sincerely.
Nobody spoke.
"Okay. Let's find us a place out of the rain and wait for it to clear," I said. We'd reached a point where we couldn't have gone on. At last I was sure of it.
We were doing well anyway, considering without the brrkup we'd have surrendered to the elements long before the Pxelepiti.
I didn't want to lose my hold on the troops and so I recontrolled them. Pressing on the spot near the bridge of the nose to spark the brrkup, I gave them my instructions: "You are to continue to follow my and Graax's instructions. We are your leaders. You are to fight whom you are told to fight to the best of your ability."
We picked a spot beside a small creek and meadow at the base of a hill. Feeling our way in the darkness, there we pitched our tents, finally finding the harbor in the storm we'd yearned for.
As my mind churned itself into sleep, I considered our fate. It was no more than our kind deserved for our sins against the natives. There's no way you can stand before the Creator and tell him you thought it was all right to take another man's land, leaving him homeless with no way to support his people. Sure we tried to compensate by establishing reservations, but if they were such wonderful places why weren't whites living on them?
The way I saw it, we were fighting for another chance. Maybe we'd learn something by putting ourselves in the Indian's moccasins.
I thought about the battles between French, British, Americans and Indians, as one might read tea leaves to answer questions about the future. Would the Indians have ever been able to fight us off? From the pilgrims' tale of their first winter at Plymouth Rock, they could have. In fact, they had to help the English survive.
I considered how the first encounter between our peoples might not go that badly for citizens of Earth. Sometimes these things take time, I guess.
The Pxelepiti were a different kind of pilgrim, however. They had a way of blending in so we'd never know weather we were helping aliens or our fellow man.
I'd heard tell and read about when America was fighting the British, how their empire had other battles dividing their forces, preventing them from sending their full contingent against our rebelling forefathers. Luck was on our side there. The first colony the English tried to establish here in the New World in North Carolina died off. Maybe history was on our side.
Was this just supposed to be a cruel universe? In looking back, it seems destiny had its way. The Indian was just a savage. They had their occasional victory, but they couldn't repel the force of the white man. In retrospect, it couldn't have been any other way. The Indians killed some of us, but we claimed many more of them with each encounter. They didn't have the ready supplies, the alliances and the skills we had. It was only a matter of time before all the Indians were rounded up and confined to reservations.
I, too, coveted the land Indians claimed. At one time, I would have shot any Apache who stood in my way as I had done with the Sioux and Comanche before. I moved west and claimed acreage where the Apache formerly ran free, reducing them to guerilla warfare.
Regret isn't enough when I think of the individual Pxelepiti wanting parts of Earth. No, not when I think of one of my fellow Earthlings fighting or becoming a Crazy Horse for his fellow humans.
What would some Pxelepiti do with the K-10? I could only wonder.
The rain continued its constant patter during the night. We crowded under the tarp and nibbled at some of the hardtack. Afterwards, we slept huddled together in a mass of bedrolls. One of the main differences between men with and without brrkups is that the former can be standoffish. Once they've been implanted, they aren't, especially not when it comes to others with brrkups.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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