“But don’t you want revenge? For all of your friends killed back at Amity?”
He shook his head. “Revenge never brought back anyone. It’s just something those still alive do for themselves. I could kill every Izkop on this planet and it wouldn’t give me back a single friend. I know that. So did Burgos, but she didn’t care. I figure my friends would want me to go on living. To try to, anyway. That’s what I’d want for them if I was the one dying.”
“What about the big one? He seemed so calm, so steady.”
“Stein?” Johansen exhaled heavily. “Yeah. He wasn’t the brightest star in the sky, but he was loyal. He was fighting alongside Scorse, so he wouldn’t leave him, wouldn’t fall back alone. That wouldn’t even have occurred to Stein.”
Ariana nodded, her head lowered. “And Juni.”
“Don’t blame yourself for that. Juni was stupid.” Out of the corner of his eye, Johansen could see Ariana’s head come up, tears lining her face. “We told him not to go out there. He went anyway. Most of the time in life, stupid just gets you in trouble. In a combat situation, stupid gets you dead. I’m sorry,” he added, because he was. “Juni seemed like a decent guy. And it’s not like he was trying to run out on us. He was trying to do something he thought was important. He just thought he knew more than he did. People who think they know all the answers seem to often end up killing themselves or other people in one way or another.”
She didn’t reply, just continued crying as she looked toward the door leading to the back room. “Listen,” Johansen said as gently as he could, “when they get done with us, they’ll break down that door. You just stand there and you beg, you hear me? You can’t fight, so plead with them. Beg for the lives of the kids. Not for you, for them. Sometimes that makes a difference. Tell them whatever humans did, or whatever the Izkop think we did, it wasn’t the fault of the kids.”
Ariana nodded. “You’ll be dead if they get to that door?”
“Yeah. They won’t get to it before then. I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Thanks for being Horatio.”
“I’m no hero, but you’re welcome. I’ve got to admit, I don’t understand why you civilians come to places like this.”
She actually smiled slightly. “We come to try to learn more about others and about ourselves. Humans, that is. There’s plenty of civilians who wouldn’t understand why you’re here. Guarding that door even though it’s hopeless. You don’t understand why we do what we do, and we don’t understand why you do what you do, and neither group of us understands why the Izkop are doing what they are doing.”
“I hope they at least have a good reason,” Johansen said dryly. “As long as I’m going to die because of it.” Shapes appeared in the distance, coming around one of the bluffs. “Sarge!”
Singh was up at his own window in a matter of seconds as the rest of the surviving soldiers also jerked awake and scrambled into position. “What’ve we got?”
“A small group,” Johansen reported, squinting to try to make out details. “Maybe ten Izkop, coming down the bluff to the right. They’re carrying something.”
“Only a dozen?” Singh brought up his field glasses, studying the group as it slowly came closer, walking at a deliberate pace toward the building. “They’ve got Archer.”
“She’s still alive?” Nassar cried.
“Maybe.” Singh’s mouth worked as he kept the field glasses on the group, then he spat to one side. “I can’t tell. They’re carrying her. She’s upright, but not walking herself.” The sergeant lowered the field glasses and slid toward Johansen, keeping low. He spoke softly. “If she is still alive, they might torture her to death in front of us. Be ready to help hold back the others if that happens.”
“I wish we could just charge out and get it over with,” Johansen growled, anger warring with despair within him. “But we still got the kids back there.”
Singh let out a sigh. “Right. We secure this building as long as we can, corporal.”
The sergeant returned to his own window, the other soldiers staying at their own posts. As the small group of Izkop came closer, Johansen could see that Archer was limp and being supported by several of the Izkop. Even though Archer was fairly small, the Izkops’ own small stature meant that her feet dragged and bumped over the ground as the group approached.
Ariana was right next to him again, her breathing ragged as she also looked at the approaching group. “What’s going on?”
“I was hoping you had some idea,” Johansen said. Closer still, the light of dawn growing, they could see rips in Archer’s battle fatigues and wide smears of blood. Her head lolled down so they couldn’t see her face, but Johansen thought he saw raw wounds down the sides of her neck.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Ariana said. “It’s clearly a procession. That one in the lead, the old Izkop, he’s wearing decorations that indicate very high rank.”
The small group of Izkop stopped at the gate, then came on another couple of meters with a slow gait that seemed ceremonial to Johansen. Archer’s head came up for a moment as if that gesture took all of her strength, then flopped down once more.
“She is alive!” Adowa shouted, beginning to rise from her crouch near the door.
“Hold position,” Singh ordered, his voice as dark and commanding as that of a stern god. Goldera let out a curse that sounded like a sob, and Adowa settled back onto her knees, her face drawn.
The old Izkop in the lead gestured to the others to halt and then spread his arms wide, chanting.
“What’s he saying?” Nassar demanded.
Ariana listened, her expression intent. “Something about… that god I called Horatio.”
“They think Archer is Horatio?”
“No. It’s more like his spirit, or example. I’m not sure what the words actually mean.” She looked confused now. “The Izkop… proved… their… purity? But so did… Archer. I think that’s a reference to Archer and… her people. I’m sorry, but he’s using the ceremonial language which is even harder to understand than the common speech.” Ariana shook her head. “I think he’s referring to all of you. The others who came among the… demons. No, thieves. Both, maybe. In the valley. Oh, no, they’re talking about us. The civilians. Something belonging to gods. False… hands? No. Offerings. False offerings. Corruption. I think that refers to spiritual, not physical corruption. Something about that demon god I call Prometheus. Denial. Test. Honor. Test. Strength. True… protectors? Of Izkop. Of the gods.”
The six Izkop carrying Archer lowered her to the ground, face up, then held up their spears in salute before raising them again, points down, ready to strike. “No,” Adowa got out in a strangled whisper.
But when the Izkop slammed their spears into the dirt, they did so on either side of Archer. The leader raised his hands, calling out in a voice that echoed across the landscape.
Johansen had sudden trouble breathing as thousands of Izkop rose up from the surrounding terrain, standing silently, spears by their sides. His hands slid along the shaft of his own spear, suddenly slick with sweat. He heard a low murmuring sound and realized that Sergeant Singh was praying, perhaps a final benediction before death.
“You put on your damned show, now just do it and get it over with,” Nassar got out between gritted teeth as the Izkop stood silently.
Then the leader raised his hands once more, shouting another command. Just as the first small group had, the masses of Izkop raised their spears, holding them high canted toward the building, then shouted as one before reversing the weapons and driving them point first into the ground like those already planted around Archer.