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Zell’s lips part. It is not laughter which emerges. He cannot laugh next to the corpse of his fallen brother, but I sense that I have his respect. I may have some use for these Galactor peons. They are used to following orders, and I do not sense that Zell or the fallen one have any real leadership capabilities. That is why they were bickering. Much like the human warriors, they were waiting for a stronger figure to take control.
“Very well,” Zell says. “I accept your offer.”
I nod, knowing that this truce is foolish. As soon as the wounded warboy is well, they will outnumber me, just as Zell says. I have little leverage other than the respect which comes from having others fear me. To that end, having almost fatally slitted the other one’s throat is an advantage. They know I will kill if they cross me. But I have lost the element of surprise, and that could be a costly risk in the long run.
Still, for some reason I do not fully understand, I am trying to do what a human might call the right thing, knowing it is the wrong thing in practical terms. It is not what Krave asked me to do. It is not what will make this planet safe. It’s not even what will make me safe. But it preserves life. I snort in disgust, aware that my inner monologue is starting to sound disturbingly human.
“These humans will hunt us,” Zell says. “All of us.”
“They can only hunt where we leave trails, and you left a stinking one that even a blind, toothless old man could follow.” I hear the lecturing note in my tone. Now I don’t sound human. Now I sound like something worse… I sound like Krave.
I am no longer the hot-headed rebel. I am the leader, and I must keep order. I hope I do a better job than Krave did, because if I don’t, then trillions of lives are at stake.
“Bring your wounded man with you. I will take the body of the other. We will dispose of it in the volcanic mountain.”
“No,” Zell says. “We must return it to the home world.”
“We cannot risk the skeletal remains of your kind being found on this planet thousands of years from now, confusing the humans, making them think that there were big-footed hairy animals roaming the planet at some point in the past. If you don’t like it, you’re free to stay here and wait for the next hunting party.”
“Very well,” Zell says, his tone heavy with resignation. I am impressed, I have to admit, with how rational he is being in the face of great loss. He has lost everything I have lost and more, but even now, when he should be trying to choke the life out of me with his massive hairy hands, he is bowing to my will. Perhaps being a leader isn’t as hard as I thought.
“But I want to find what the humans took,” he says. “I will not allow them to keep Flenders’ head.”
“Assuming they haven’t already eaten it and scattered the bones, then yes. The skull will be more easily retrieved.”
This is a gruesome subject, but both Zell and I are handling it in stride. This is not the first death either of us have seen. I would wager that Zell has lost many, many brothers in war before now. But it is different to lose a brother in battle than it is to lose him in a forest clearing in an area where he should have been safe.
“Can he walk?” I gesture to the warboy who is still on the ground. He lost consciousness at first, but now he is awake, listening in silence to the conversation we are having.
“Get up, Wencel,” Zell orders.
The other warboy rises to his feet. He does not want to look at me. It may be the shame from near defeat, or it could be something more duplicitous which makes his gaze slide away from me every time it comes close.
“Do you agree to these terms?” I ask him the question. I want to hear him respond. Zell may have agreed, but Zell did not feel the blade of my body against the reservoir of his life.
Wencel looks at Zell and immediately, I know that he is no danger. He does not act without orders. He is looking to be told what to do. He does not have the bravery or the boldness to attack me on his own terms.
“Pick up your dead, and let’s go.”
“We need to track the humans down. To retrieve Flendel’s head.”
“Not carrying a corpse, we can’t. We take the body to the mountain. You give your brother the farewell he deserves, and then we will find the pieces the humans took….” And then I will somehow try to convince my broodkin to rescue you instead of butchering you, I don’t speak that part out loud. Krave will not be pleased with me, but I am isolated on this planet as much as they are, and killing potential allies, even if they are Galactor affiliated, is pointless.
