The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest
primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Kashayla; the smallest canine pack of
Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of
Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches
away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret
for decades, allowing the two warring people to reproduce and grow far from their
home worlds.
“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we
encountered the Kiiote.”
“And we into internecine war when we encountered the
Yown’Hoo.”
“Yown’Hoo and
Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.”
“Together, we
might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included
Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)
“We’re a little busy right now, but as soon as we survive
driving over this rickety old bridge, I’ll come back and tell you.”
“What rickety old...”
Suddenly, machine gun fire spanged off of the JACK’S BAKERY
delivery truck. “Humans!” I shouted...
Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh (retired) called, “Just
keep driving! Go, go, go!”
I floored the accelerator while he elbowed ‘Shayla and the
Herd mother back into the rear of the truck and slammed the door shut. We
plowed through some sort of flimsy barrier, rode over the bridge to the other
side. On the right, where Retired had said there would be a mansion, was an
inferno. A cluster of loosely attached Yown’Hoo herdships, hovered over the
river, pouring lambent energy beams at the site.
A Kiiote “pack fighter” craft, flat, sleek, and deadly,
returned fire, but was clearly abandoning the blazing mansion, sniping whenever
the Yown’Hoo took a shot at them.
It was clear that the battle was over and lost. “I think
I’ll keep going while they’re busy with each other!” I said as I roared past
the carnage. Retired had fallen back in the seat, his face closed and guarded.
I only saw that much because I had to slow us down to navigate around a tree
laying across the road, burned nearly into charcoal now. The road past the
bridge was clear now, dark, silent, and looking like it was abandoned. I said, “So,
where’s the next Kiiote mobile hospital?”
When he turned to look at me, his face was lit only by the
telltales on the dash as he said, “Not for another two hundred klicks.”
Horrified, I turned to face the night. Finally I managed, “How
long can you survive the gelp?” He’d
described it as a Kiiote fungus growing roots into his skin, seeking the warmth
of his major blood vessels. He hadn’t gone any farther, but I could imagine.
Part of my training in the old Dome had been in medicine. I was, according to
the medical trail marker guru, only a class and an internship away from
certification as a paramedic. Off-world diseases were rare; the Kiiote and Yown’Hoo
catching Earth diseases even rarer. I’d heard tales from the first days of the
Hot War; people hoping that the aliens would die as easily as the Martians had
in the Human classic by HG Wells, War Of
The Worlds.
No such luck. For a fleeting moment, I suddenly felt what it
must have been like in those days – even the days of Retired. There must have
been deep resentment. Hatred of all things alien. Humans not bred up like me
and Shay – with everyday contact with them – must truly hate them, they’re so
different.
Retired and I weren’t friends – but he was the first Human
male I’d ever spent time with. I didn’t know what I’d do if he died. I took a
deep breath and said, “My great uncle...”
He scowled and turned to me. “Yes?”
I took a deep breath, held it, and said, “I met a Kiiote
when I was two years old.”
His look narrowed as he said, “You weren’t drafted into the
Triad until you were five.”
I nodded slowly, turned my head and attended to my driving
as a dark, heavy silence fell in the bakery truck’s cab.
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