Singh watched her, his expression grim. “Because you were thinking of physical things being stolen, or scientific concepts. Not something as simple and everyday to us as how to use the stuff we carry around. They decided you civilians were working against the gods, trying to corrupt the Izkop.”
“Yes.” Ariana’s voice had sunken to a whisper. “The Izkop destroyed everything we’d brought in order to… save their souls. And using that same equipment to attack you… the hand of the demon turned against it. There’s a myth about that. When you soldiers landed at the valley it looked to the Izkop like you were there to defend the other humans, us, the agents of Prometheus. After all, we’d called you, hadn’t we? You were coming in to seize the secrets of the gods again. That made you demons, too. To the Izkop, it must have looked like Armageddon.”
“An army of demons from the sky,” Goldera said. “Yeah. No wonder they fought like crazy.”
“But they had to present a chance for some of you soldiers to prove you were not demons, but agents of the gods. Hiding among the demons, just like demons hide among the gods. They left us alive here to see if any of you would come to aid others rather than try to steal back the secrets of the gods. It wasn’t the adults here that mattered, it was the innocents, the children. When you headed this way, toward the children, it seemed your particular group might be working for the gods. And then you acted like heroes of the Izkop, laughing in the face of death and fighting to protect the children. You didn’t waver when they attacked. So they captured one of you for a last test, the most important test, to see how that one soldier would act. And Archer didn’t act like Prometheus at all. She refused to give any secrets away. She defended the gods’ secrets and showed a willingness to die in that defense. The Izkop have decided that you soldiers, your small group, are agents of the gods. I think that’s right. It’s only a guess, but it fits what happened.”
Adowa leaned wearily against one wall. “So what happens if you’re right? Are they still going to kill us?”
“You didn’t understand what they just did? I’ve only heard it described, but now that I know what the Izkop must have been thinking I’m certain that I’m correct. That ceremony where they saluted you and then left their spears. The Izkop surrendered to you.”
It took Johansen a moment to realize that his jaw had fallen open.
Singh managed to speak first. “They… surrendered to us?”
“Yes, sergeant.”
“Wait a minute,” Nassar demanded. “We won?”
“That’s right. Or rather, the defenders of the gods won. But that’s you, so to us it’s the same thing. I’m using the human term surrender, but I think the Izkop would call it ‘acknowledging superiority in this struggle.’ They won’t take orders from you, but they accepted you as the victors. The moral victors, that is, because you’re on the right side. The… fight… is over.”
“Well, hell,” Singh commented. He looked toward the bodies in the room, then out in the yard and back in the direction of the valley. “I sure wish someone had figured out some of this a little earlier. It would have saved a lot of humans, and a lot of Izkop.”
“We couldn’t,” Ariana said. “We didn’t share the right mental or cultural references with them. It wasn’t until I saw you, talked with you and saw what you did, that I began to understand part of how the Izkop were thinking.”
“And civilian researchers wouldn’t call in soldiers until hell had already broken out,” Johansen said, “because how could we know something they didn’t?”
“Yes.” Ariana nodded to him, seeming drained of all emotion now. “If this planet had been a university campus or a research lab, full of people who thought like we did, then everything would have been fine.”
Johansen shook his head. “No. The Izkop did the same thing. Instead of really trying to figure out humans, they plugged all of us into their own mythology. After all the humans and Izkop that have died, the Izkop still don’t know why you civilians or we soldiers really came here, or why we did what we did. They just think they do.”
Sergeant Singh sat down heavily. “What do I always tell you guys? Mistakes cost lives. Helluva big price, though.”
“All of those soldiers dead, and it was our fault,” Ariana said.
“Even if it was, you paid an awful price, too. Some victory. But at least we’re still alive.” Singh gestured to Adowa. “Pass me that comm unit. Let’s see how close the cavalry is, or if it’s even shown up yet.”
Goldera laughed, giddy with relief. “They’re going to come charging in to save us, and you’ll get to say, ‘they already surrendered to me.’ What do you think the general will do then?”
“Try to take credit for it,” Adowa said. Outside, the cow mooed forlornly. “Why the hell didn’t they kill that cow?”
“I have no idea,” Ariana said. “But we’d better not kill it ourselves.”
“Damn right. Anybody who wants that cow,” Adowa replied, “is going to have to go through me.”
Adowa and Singh started checking the comm unit for damage while Goldera and Nassar sat together, grinning and talking. Later they’d be depressed, later the extent of their losses would sink in, how many friends and companions had died, later the stresses of the last few days would haunt their nights, and they’d need everything the shrinks and the docs could provide, but for now that was forgotten in the joy of unlooked-for survival. Archer lay asleep under the influence of the meds, the visible parts of her body almost covered with strips of heal-tape.
Ariana looked at Johansen. “There’ll be other sunrises for you to see.”
“Yeah, I guess so. You going to be okay?”
“Someday. Like you said, my husband would want me to go on.”
“What was his name?” Johansen asked.
“Eric.”
“If you, uh, want to talk about it, about him, I’ll listen. Sometimes talking helps. When you’re ready for that.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate help with the children if you can manage that, too. You’re a good man, Horatio.” Ariana bowed her head into her knees as if trying to shut out everything for a little while.
Johansen moved his head enough to watch the sun rising higher. An amazing thing, seeing the sun rise. It didn’t help you understand anything, but it made you believe in all sorts of things again.