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Stories from the Verse
A Dozen Verses
Chapter 25: Kondor 264
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Cooper 80
Before dawn Kondor had walked out to the pit in the grass. Branches and grass covered him after he climbed in. With nothing better to do, he slept. Hours later, covered in brown loose dirt with spikes of momentary pain flashing down his back, he woke to a stuffy day. Up on the surface, above the waist high grass, it was probably pleasant. But in his little hole, three feet across and five feet deep, he had very little air. If not for the coolness of the earth, he might have been hot.
Taking a drink from his canteen, he wondered what time it was. The meet would be held at high noon. To his left was the dorm damaged by Gatling gun fire, and most of the University. To his right was the space where the coup plotters were supposedly going to show up. In the middle of the two forces, Zeke would go out to meet three or four of the Clerks and their guards. They had insisted on the disproportionate number citing the claim that Cho had better weapons than they did.
This was true, but Cho was a slightly better shot than Zeke, and so--Joe smacked himself on the side of the head. The stupid Parakeets were getting him to call himself ‘Cho’ instead of Joe. They thought they were meeting Joe, but the defenders had pulled a switcheroo. Joe did not mind too much especially since he and Zeke were both sure the Clerks were up to something. Was it really cheating when you knew the other guy was going to cheat too? Joe decided that it squared with his conscience, and since he was the authority, there being no God to judge him, that was good enough.
The time passed, and he kept himself amused by watching bugs in the grass. It was poor entertainment, but it was what he had. Preparing himself, he aimed a few lines with his rifle. He followed this by loosening up his shoulders. A quick survey of his rifle, with a bit of tightening, and he was as good as he was going to get. If Zeke got in trouble, it was his job to kill any threat to his friend. That accomplished, he was to wipe out any of the leadership he could while keeping himself alive.
Flexing his fingers, he remembered Uncle Ty teaching him the rifle, and began to settle down to the final wait where he would not move a muscle for the last minutes. He had taken his position, and a few minutes later out came a search party of avian bipeds from the Clerks looking for traps. He had not expected they would do that, but evidently someone over on their side was not as clueless as the rest of them were. It was one of the problems of handing the enemy a sound thumping. It tended to elevate the more competent of the enemy generals to higher influence after you trounced the idiots.
The search was quick, and the avians on his side were jeering loudly to distract the searchers, and his hidey-hole was well done. They did not come closer than twenty yards to him, and showed no signs of spotting him. Relieved, he watched them head back to their leaders with an all clear report.
Ten minutes later Zeke began walking out, and after a minute so did a dozen on the other side. That was more than had been negotiated, and theoretically Zeke should turn back now. Instead, he just walked forward.
“You are not a god, Zeke. I don’t care how many Parakeets think we are.” Joe growled as he looked at the smug smile on Zeke’s face. The two groups walked toward each other slowly, that is, one man and one group, for five long minutes. They came to a halt about fifty feet from Joe--easy shot range for the skilled rifleman. He would not even need to use his ranging binoculars. His parabolic microphone was already set up so he was able to listen in.
“Cho, I am Clerk Important Leader--”
Joe saw Zeke brush his sparse, sandy mustache. Oh boy, he’s getting started. Zeke had at times a distinct lack of basic courtesy.
“Whatever. You’re a traitor. Confess your crimes.” Joe heard the words, and almost felt like doing so himself such was the power in Zeke’s mental command reinforced by his hard edged furious voice.
“I--overthrew the ruler because--what are--”
“Now!”
“I wanted his position, and I hated that the normal people were getting wealthy without me, and I figured I could doublecross my companions in the coup to become Maximum--”
A screech of rage nearly blew out Joe’s ears as one of the other Clerk Leaders heard the plan to double cross him. Guns were drawn, and before Joe or Zeke could say anything, guns were being fired. Zeke drew his pistol quickly, and fired back before diving out of the way, but Joe saw he had been hit. He himself began servicing targets. Bam. One down. Bam. Two down. Ah. Everyone else was down or hiding. On both sides there was yelling, and fear and confusion.
Joe listened again to the parabolic, and heard Zeke praying to that God of his, but his voice was distorted, and wandering, like his mind was not focusing. Joe knew that Zeke did have the ability to heal, but unlike what Zeke thought it was not miraculous. It was a weird form of psionic power, which would require Zeke to have a clear mind. To listen to his jumbled phrases, he was clearly not clear-headed.
Joe leapt from the pit and moved forward, duckwalking as he went. He moved faster than he liked, and saw movement in the grass. Parakeet, lying down, injured. He shot him, having no time for mercy. Another Parakeet, but this one was dead. He moved closer. Zeke lay on the ground and was slowly getting up with a smile on his face. He appeared uninjured.
Seeing the opportunity, and putting the weirdness aside, Joe spoke to Zeke.
“Can we find another to confess?”
The two began rapidly searching among the injured and dead Parakeets. The first confessor was dead, shot in the back and front as he had been the first target of multiple rages. They did find one, and he waved a weak arm.
“Heal me, and I’ll talk.”
Zeke looked for permission, and Joe gave it. A warm glow covered the Minor Clerk Leader as he styled himself. Others not dead were healed as well, and much humbled; five Parakeets and two Humans who were not humble walked toward the enemy lines into the mouth of a Gatling gun pointed at them. Minutes later they arrived, and the several hundred Guard, who were better armed than the Doomed but not as well as the Swordbirds or the two Humans, gathered about.
Kondor’s rifle was ready to rock and roll, because if the Clerks decided to betray them, this was the moment. But the Minor Clerk Leader stood up in front of the crowd.
“I, we, we thought we, no, let’s be honest, we told ourselves we were, but we never thought we were, doing a good thing. I was able to lie to myself, but then I heard the Clerk Important Leader say he planned to kill and doublecross the others of the Clerks to become Maximum Leader. We need to surrender, and throw ourselves on the mercy of--”
A violent squawk and a raging bird leapt out of the crowd with a gun ready to shoot the remaining coup plotter’s top leader, and knowing he was doing it, and knowing the result, Kondor stepped out in front, and took the bullet to the face. As he flew back, he told himself, he had saved a life, probably many lives. The Clerk Minor Leader would ask for mercy, and unless the Ruler was an idiot, he would grant it. Some punishment would be involved, but the war would be over. Adjustments would be made, and the Parakeet’s Industrial Revolution would continue.
But for him, he was hitting the grass.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
