The Wild Ba’Neesh Chapter Fifty-Nine ©2019 Fay Thompson All Rights Reserved

Mick looked across the many spears of rock, the ash long gone, now housing the living. The euphoria of the ceremony had eased his tension slightly but now he could feel the fingers of dissonance returning. That’s what his long-ago psychiatrist liked to call anxiety. A failure to align, that had been another of his catch phrases used to identify the deficiencies in Mick.

“Worrying about your foster parents?” Elias asked. Clearly he could tell Mick was off, his body twitching almost as if he were prepping to run. “Or that ceremony. Gods Mick, why didn’t you warn me?” Mick hadn’t answered, just gave Elias a glance and then looked away again.

Mick could feel the Turtle sigil and it too seemed restless although he could identify no danger. He amended that to no immediate danger. He could logic out his feelings as something like battle drop, that could exist, right? Couple that to the uncomfortable interaction with his parents followed by the ritual. It all linked into a chain that was reasonable to explain his increasing--dissonance.

He remembered three-years-ago, the first time he heard the word. He’d looked it up and discovered it meant a lack of harmony like when two sounds clashed. Was that what it was? The scene was peaceful, the sigil present, the immediate enemy vanquished, the Ba’Neesh rescued. All of these seemed in harmony. He looked over at Elias again, wishing he could talk to his friend without going through Sofia. He couldn’t quite make her fit into his analysis, yet. She was five. Why didn’t that matter? It should matter. He had a certainty of feeling that he knew her, had long known her. Was he just clinging to her because she seemed to accept his alter almost too easily?

His inner melancholia was interrupted by the thundering arrival of Brad, leading Serla and Norris up the rocks.

Mick’s thoughts instantly shifted. He needed to talk to Serla. He rose to face the three and then he looked past them to see a gaunt-faced, very thin and tall Soek climbing like a spider up the rock face behind them. He fought to remember the Soek’s name, Aristeen.

Elias and Sofia had risen as well with Sofia moving forward to climb Brad until she could peer directly into his face. “Pirate.” She announced. Then she looked past him to the other three giving each a hard stare, lingering for a long time on Norris and then she spun and jumped all in one motion to trot over to grab Mick by the claw.

“Did we pass muster?” Brad asked. He was still flying from the ceremony. He now knew he wanted a Ba’Neesh to kill him, to eat him. What an unbelievable rush.

Serla stepped up to stand next to Brad. As usual, his tanned features were impassive, closed. He had none of the charisma of an exo suit, instead he commanded attention through his frequently silent demeanor.

With the small group’s arrival Thorne approached and turned on Mick. “You promised to reveal your target, Mick Huxley.” He said, irritation and a hint of arrogance in his tone.

Mick nodded and then used a brushing motion with his right hand, as if to sweep aside Thorne’s words.

Brad interrupted what he could correctly guess would be a Thorne tirade of some kind. The insolence of youth, altered or not was likely reaching the Thorne tipping point. “We have escorted your parents toward safety.” He began, trying to sort out why he felt Mick was accelerating. It wasn’t the rigidity of the boy’s face, trapped in shifting biologicals, unable to facially express properly. It was a radiating edge. Brad knew this edge, Mael had it too. He auto-fed his body additional nutrients and resources. Something wasn’t right in Mick world and he didn’t think it had to do with the kid’s foster parents.

He’d watched Elias’ live feed of the interaction. It had annoyed him and made him want to shake that foster father into some sense. Bad as that had been, he didn’t think it was the source of Mick’s array of body twitches, as if he were having trouble standing still.

“Mick?” Brad took another step forward, the limit of the small space on which he stood.

“Anya?” Mick answered with a name no one expected him to say. He spoke a flood of Neesh toward the petite Ba’Neesh now on her feet glaring at him. It was a request for Neesh to English translation through her. A rude request. Mick had never offered service to any of the Ba’Neesh and he didn’t do so now. She flared her fangs at him.

“Don’t let him back out of telling us of this mystery target.” Mael said to her, he too now on his feet.

“So, use me.” Anya said, her tone a clear warning.

Mick tightened his grip on Sofia’s hand hoping she would not feel slighted by his choice. He needn’t have worried, Sofia was now fully awake and getting excited. Fun was happening. Maybe even some blood.

“Serla, analyze our current stats.” Anya clipped out on top of Mick’s rough Neesh. Almost as the words came out of her mouth she lost the Neesh edge and focused on Mick. He was gaining. She turned and honked out a warning.

Then she focused on Serla. He was what the Ba’Neesh called Soek-not-Soek, as was his clone Rojer Kirsan or Serla, Second of His Name. Serla was endlessly mysterious to the Ba’Neesh and highly prized by the Akaitapi, unlike Rojer.

Serla had been running calcs from the moment Mick rose. He analyzed the boy’s body posture, twitches and rising Vrill. It forced his system to automatically review available data to locate the source of the boy’s problem. He decided he wasn’t alone on this escarpment, many minds might be enormously helpful at this point.

He summarized aloud the taking of the lab, the freeing of the Ba’Neesh, the retrieval of the Ba’Neesh at Oxine and Kuriwa. Each was like a fallen domino, clear wins. As he reached the end of the list he moved over to the continuing issues. “We have not received access to the Beloved except for some hundred or so we found at Kuriwa.” It was the last statement on the list.

Mick nodded and then spoke again.

Anya said, “What else don’t I know?”

This surprised all within hearing. No one had tried to keep information away from Mick.

Serla stiffened and then started to run his calcs again, concern wafting off him in waves. Brad, tracing Serla’s process, noted the shift of the Soek’s massive internal system into overdrive. Brad toggled the DireSec alert system flashing a warning beacon to every operative and individual with an external, he sent a modified signal to the Army Soek with their array of lesser quality and random devices. All of them recognized the familiar characteristics of a warning.

“What now?” Mael yelled out, hating the damn OrderSec device they forced him to wear. “Mick. You damn fucking promised.” He too began to ramp up.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Serla?” Mick managed the name.

Serla looked up, noting the kid’s growing distress and worse, much worse, Mael ramping up. “We lost a Soek. He defected during the ritual.” Serla said.

Whatever Mael and the others had expected, it wasn’t that a Soek had run. It was astonishing only one had run.

Mick made a contracted sound that ended in a hiss. Anya said, “Accurate odds on retrieval of the Beloved?”

Brad choked. He watched Serla’s analysis and Brad doubled down to check the stats.

“Unlikely, based on ineffectual negotiation between the Directorate and nationals for the youngers.”

“Unlikely?” Anya repeated on her own.

“Not in a timely manner.” Serla answered.

“Who?” Anya asked for Mick after another sound.

Serla answered before Anya could translate. “Evgeny.”

Mick shook his head. “No.” He managed something that sounded like that word. Anya filled in the rest, “Not Evgeny, Eric.”

Then Mick burst into a lengthy spiel in Neesh that brought the Ba’Neesh hooting and shrieking to their feet, stomping.

Anya put her right hand on Mael, a warning to him. Then she said, “I’m a fucking stupid, stupid Soek. Evgeny is Eric Felsen, right? Head of Tule Soc Security. How did we fucking forget that? Don’t tell me former. What do we fucking do? We get lured here by the dangling of Ba’Neesh, we get seduced into killing Eric’s molcom and forcing Elias to be present which brought me here. First move. The Ba’Neesh loosed in the woods. He was certain of easy retrieval or to kill them. They were weak, barely off their drugs and with no wood skills. He gained access to DireSec and OrderSec. Second move. It’s a god damned trap. He knows I can’t let them have the fucking Beloved, to do so would gut the Fels Ba’Neesh as well as those at Oxine and Kuriwa. Tule Soc intended to end their Ba’Neesh program. They baited us, baited me. A fucking trap. Third move. They now have all of us sitting on this damned escarpment in one group, even the best-of-the-best of Citadel. Sitting fucking ducks. I suckered along like the biggest newb ever and made things worse. All of this to make things worse. I can’t let them have the Beloved.”

“My belated analysis, yes, Mick.” Serla answered nodding agreement.

“Can’t you take the Army in there and get the Beloved?” Mael asked, his own Vrill roiling.

Mick shook his head. “No. That would force us against the nationals and we need them. He fucking knew that too.” Anya translated. “He will immediately break up the Beloved into parts and separate them to make them harder for us to acquire, to waste our time and resources. Has he reached the town yet, Serla? Please tell me you fucked his communicator.”

“He should be there in estimated ten minute’s tops.” Serla answered. “I fucked his communicator when he defected.”

Mick turned to Mael. “This is the problem: if we allow them to keep the Beloved, our line of Tule Soc Ba’Neesh is reduced to only those currently alive. We lose the memories, the gods precious memories of those inside the Lamentation. If we complete the Lamentation then all of our adult Ba’Neesh will become pregnant as fast as possible to embody the Beloved. This pushes their ability to fight back roughly three to five years out, I’m guessing.”

Mael blinked as the information sunk in and Mick’s orientation to that knowledge. Brad did the math and swore viciously.

“We’re fucked.” Mick said and no one needed the translation to understand his words.

“We are a target here, Mick?” Mael was coming up to speed mentally.

Mick nodded, saying through Anya’s mouth, “The sigil buys us some time, but only till he gets to the biological weapons. We are breathing Fels air, we have an open ass on this turtle, remember?”

Brad interrupted, “We have Ornius.” He said and when no one paid attention he went to mechanical broadcast and repeated so loud no one could not hear him, “We have Ornius.”

Everyone turned to glare at Brad. He shrugged and set his system to open broadcast. “Sir. You are live.” He said and then gestured to the crowd.

Ornius’ made a throat clearing sound. “Well now, Mick. You must put the bagged Beloved on the backs of the immature Ba’Neesh youngers and rapid grow them, like you, slow them back to pre-puberty, strong enough to fight, immature enough not to get pregnant for three-to-five years.”

Mick gaped. He wasn’t alone. None of them had considered forcing the youngers to rapid alter. He looked down at Sofia, watching his face intently, ready. He could tell she was ready mentally. He was supposed to force all of these barely freed youngers into the agony of a rapid alter. He railed against the old Soek’s words even as the logic of the argument slammed home inside of him.

“Burn the Beloved. Now!” Ornius continued. “Old One Horn says this is all we can do to save as many as we can.”

Mick nodded, accepting the order. Through Anya he said, “Give me Neo.”

Brad rolled his eyes and then grinned. “Fuck Mick.” He said, patching through to the sub.

“What about the range target?” Mael wanted to vent, his body was riding the edge of freak out. He decided he wasn’t made to be one of Mick’s Battle Soek.

Neo’s voice came through the broadcast system. “Mick? We’ve been hacked into Brad’s feed here. What the fuck, man?”

“What burning weapons have you found, ones that burn and burn.” Mick said through Anya.

“Range?” Neo asked.

“The Fels Lab.” Brad answered, “And, the facilities at Oxine and Kuriwa.”

“Fucking for real?” Neo asked, “Get out of my way Morty. Eng, go shotgun on me. Morty you pull the best options and find those codes I entered.”

“When, Mick?” Neo came back.

“Now Neo. Keep hitting the target until it is ash and I mean ash.” Mael yelled out.

“Turtle?” Neo asked, a bit of awe in his voice.

“Fucking A.” Mael answered, surprising everyone. “And, we are now running toward you, away from Fels. We have a shield and if we stay together we should survive the burn.”

Mael reached out to grab the front of Mick’s shirt to pull the kid toward him. “Understand this Mick, I gave the order, not you. I am responsible for those who will die tonight, not you.”

Brad nodded and said. “Mick, I gave the order too, not you.”

The saying flowed out, first among the Citadel Soek, then the Ba’Neesh in Neesh until the escarpment echoed the words.

Mick gasped and then he said, through Anya once again, “I too give this order. I am Ba. I am Soek.”

Mael let him go, nodding back. “We are all in this together.”

Mick shared a hasty glance with Elias and then he lifted Sofia to Elias’ shoulders. Elias nodded and yelled at Brad, “Tell the Soek to carry every Ba’Neesh they can and to stay under the sigil.” The Ba’Neesh were honking and jumping down from the escarpment, racing to team along the sigil’s edges, to keep it powered up and out.

Mael felt the sigil gaining Vrill, excited. This was not the sigil he wore or the one painted on the underside of Math. He was thankful Anya could run faster than he could, he couldn’t imagine carrying her. Youngers wearing Beloved. Fast alters. What would they become, like Mick? He was slightly horrified. And, what was the damned infernal target the kid kept managing to avoid revealing? He wanted to strangle him. Instead he glared over at where the kid was running, to see Sofia giggling and laughing on Elias’ shoulders, being followed by eight Soek being led by Karl with Freya on his shoulders and Rojer, his expression one of eager enjoyment.

They ran down the back side of the escarpment just as the skies behind them bloomed with light followed by a massive concussive sound that caused the ground to heave. Many fell. They got back up.

“Did we warn them?” Mael asked.

“No.” Brad, close enough to hear, answered. Grim. “We are alerting nearby DireSec aircraft to come in on cloaking to get us.”

“Is the sigil going to let the floaters inside?” Mael retreated from thinking of the people dead and dying on the other side of the ridge, in a town like many others, innocent of what had caused their deaths.

“Perisee says, yes.” Brad yelled back. Perisee and Lemista were riding Brad. “So, maybe?” Everyone knew that Perisee wasn’t the height of reliability.

It turned out she was right, a fact she emphasized by bouncing up and down on Brad. Another bomb hit tossing her off between bounces. Lemista laughed, Perisee tried to gore her. Brad swept the two of them up the ramp into one of the massive floaters used to move the youngers earlier from Oxine and Kuriwa. They overcrowded the interior, as did the nearly a hundred other aircraft of all types and sizes.

Mick told Sofia to tell Elias to fold up the sigil blanket and tuck it between his back and Edda, to keep it going.

Anya rounded on Sofia who Elias had let back down, to pick her up and shake her. “You learn English tonight in sleep share if I need to bind your head to mine, understand. I not like being inside Mick’s head, he is chaos to Mael’s order. Learn fast.”

(Ahh my lovely fans. Did you predict this? Hopefully not. If not then I’ve done my job here, misdirecting you toward other thoughts. What will Mick do now? Got a guess?)