16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Three solars ago – Planet Lotrom during the Orlok War

Damascus

"Damascus! Damascus!" the young Nimon yelled as he rushed up behind Damascus, followed by his seven siblings. "We were on patrol, and we found something."

"Hello, Felnoun," he said, then greeted all the other siblings by name while sounding a welcoming, soothing rumble.

The other siblings didn't answer, but they all shyly bobbled their heads to acknowledge his greeting.

Felnoun barely kept control of his impatience, then finally spoke again when Damascus was done. "You need to come with us right away!"

He stopped rumbling and answered Felnoun in a serious tone. "What did you find?"

"We think it's an Orlok fortification!" Felnoun explained. "They could be hiding in there, waiting to strike!"

As the oldest, Felnoun was the only one allowed to talk to Damascus but he was good about letting his siblings whisper to him so he could relay their words. Oldest only meant he'd broken out of his egg a day ahead of the next child to hatch in his brood. Still, he took the responsibility seriously.

Damascus didn't dismiss Felnoun's claim. These youngsters were always looking for an excuse to speak to him, and he wanted them to keep doing it. He enjoyed every interaction and looked forward to seeing them during his patrols.

Crouching down, Damascus let the Nimon young gather around him. They were polite and didn't touch, but they came close enough that an occasional antenna would brush against him.

"There aren't any Orlok on this planet anymore," he assured the young. "They all ran away before we got here. We checked thoroughly."

"Then it could be a weapon they left behind. You need to see it!" Felnoun insisted while half his siblings lifted their back legs and waved them in the air, a gesture of impatience. The other half tugged at their antenna, a sign of worry. Out of all the Standing Guard stationed on Lotrom, he was the only one who'd studied Nimon body language. He found it interesting while his fellow soldiers found the entire Nimon population on this Orlok planet of little interest.

They'd claimed Lotrom fifty rotations ago with no resistance. The Orloks living on the small, agricultural planet had all fled long before the Talin warships got there, leaving their Nimon laborers behind.

One of Damascus's favorite moments was when he got to tell the Nimons that because they were the ones there, the farms they lived on now belonged to them. He'd also hinted they should spread out and claim extra farmland.

Talin legal code was very clear in situations like this, third party species were to be left alone as much as possible. Since the war was with the Orlok and not their imported labor, Damascus decided wherever the Nimons lived, he'd record it as land ownership instead of what it had been under Orlok control—serfdom. If any Orlok documents surfaced claiming otherwise after the war, his report would take precedence.

He singlehandedly gave the several hundred Nimons living on this planet property and wealth of their own. For as long as the planet was under Talin jurisdiction, no one could ever take that away from them.

"It's your job to protect us, right?" Felnoun asked.

"Yes," Damascus agreed, as he tilted his body back. It was a Nimon gesture meaning confidence. "We are here to protect you."

"Then you need to see what we found," Felnoun repeated. "It could be important."

A quick glance at his Ident showed he was almost off duty. A few submarks wouldn't make a difference. Rising to his feet, he holstered his weapon and powered down his armor.

"Yes, you might be right," Damascus agreed. "Lead me to this suspicious spot."

Several of the children rapidly bobbed their heads up and down, a show of excitement, then rushed off ahead. Felnoun took the spot next to Damascus. He kept his stride short and slow so the young Nimon didn't struggle to keep up. Ahead of them, Felnoun's siblings scampered into the tall grass near a shallow but wide river.

"The other Talins don't talk to us like you do," Felnoun said as they walked.

"They're busy," Damascus said, hoping that would be explanation enough.

"You're in charge of all of them. Shouldn't you be busier than them?"

"I'm only in charge of this group," he said, hoping to change Felnoun's focus. "Municipal Commander Yawnom is in charge of the whole planet. He's probably the most busy. My daily tasks aren't as encompassing."

It was true that Yawnom was busy; busy filling their ship's bay and storage areas with as much abandoned Orlok goods as he could gather. Damascus tried not to think about the greedy nature of the municipal commander in charge of all the ground units. He wasn't a very good leader, but their task was an easy one and didn't require strong strategic thinking. He might not like what Yawnom was doing, but it wasn't illegal as long as he didn't take anything from the Nimons.

"You're the best out of all the Talins here," Felnoun declared, and the two siblings following behind them made soft chitters of agreement.

It was a pleasure for Damascus to interact with Felnoun and his large family. He found their family structure fascinating, and the way they raised their children communally, heartwarming. Up to eight couples would come together as a large family. When they wanted to reproduce, they all laid their eggs together so no one knew which child belonged to which parent. Everyone was equally invested in every child.

Considering he didn't even meet his parents until he was almost five solars old, Damascus found the Nimon style of family and child rearing commendable. He was going to miss these Nimons when the war was over and he was deployed somewhere else.

"Here it is!" Felnoun announced, pointing to a structure peeking out from the water. Damascus recognized it immediately.

"You're correct, Felnoun, this is an Orlok device, but not one for war," Damascus said as he waded into the water. The dome they could see was only the tip of the structure, the rest of it was buried deep underground.

"What is it?" Felnoun asked, almost toppling despite the sluggish pace of the water. Damascus reached down and picked Felnoun up. Plopping him on his shoulder, he waited for the youngster to settle before speaking again.

"This is a funerary pit," he explained, pointing to the writing on the shiny, domed top. "Orloks dig deep holes in the ground to bury their dead. The deeper the hole, the more esteemed the person was while they were alive. This part is the dead person's name, this is their title, and this is the date they achieved their highest rank in life. I don't read enough Orlok to tell you their title, but their name was Henach Betal N'Ant."

"I promise it only appeared today," Felnoun said, reaching down so he could run his fingers over the engraved words. "We really thought it was something new."

"The date on it is old so this might belong to one of the first settlers here. The river slowly ate away at the earth around the pit's door. It's probably been emerging for a while but only recently broke through the water."

"Are you sure?" Felnoun asked. "Maybe it's a secret weapon meant to look like a grave pit."

"I'm sure," Damascus answered with an amused rumble, then spoke loud enough for all the siblings waiting at the edge of the water to hear. "But I commend all of your keen observation skills. You and all your siblings did good work bringing this to my attention."

"Mama Misnour said you should come to the evening meal," Felnoun said as Damascus walked out of the water. "And Papa Viberni said you should be eating with us every meal. We think he's right, but Mama Calsinor said you might think they were trying to bribe you with food. Then Mama…"

Damascus listened to little Felnoun give him a word-for-word recounting of the entire conversation, already looking forward to joining him and his extended family unit for a meal. Talins could eat and digest Nimon food, although it was bland, but mostly he enjoyed being folded into their large family. Sometimes one of the children would climb in his lap after a meal and fall asleep, trusting that he would keep them safe. The adults would ask his opinion or request that he share stories of his life in the military.

He'd never felt so included. Everything in his life up until this assignment had been about achieving and succeeding. Shared meals were often utilized for information transfer or political advancement. He couldn't remember a single time he dined with other Talins and felt nothing but worry over every word he spoke.

These Nimon farmers exposed him to a life where you could relax and simply enjoy being in the company of others. All of that meant he rarely passed up an invitation to share a meal and often stayed later than he was supposed to according to ground unit regulations.

"I have to return to my barracks, stow my gear, and then I'll join all of you for the dusk meal," he said to the children when they got to the section of road where they needed to part ways. Only Talins were allowed within the barracks area.

He set Felnoun down and immediately missed the weight.

"We'll tell all the mamas and papas," Felnoun said. Excited chittering came from all the brood as Felnoun turned and guided them away.

Damascus gave himself a moment to watch them all go. Several of them danced as they walked, their long, thin legs easily bouncing them high into the air. It filled him with joy to see them so happy and animated. The first time he'd met that family unit, the adults had hidden the children away in a basement storage spot. It had taken marks of talking and explaining to convince the Nimons that they were safe. When the parents finally believed the Talins weren't there to hurt them, they brought out the children.

Excited, intimidated, and fascinated, all the children except Felnoun had shied behind their parents. As the eldest, Felnoun marched up to Damascus.

"I'm Felnoun," he'd announced. "If you have to eat one of us, you should only eat me."

The parents had reacted with a combination of horror and embarrassment, but Damascus had found the young Nimon's action brave and commendable.

Kneeling down, he'd fished a reward token out of his pouch. Talin military were issued the tokens as a way to earn trust with native populations. The token could be redeemed at a Talin military commissary for a few low value items.

"I have no need or inclination to eat any of you," Damascus said as he held out the token. "But for your bravery, I'd like to give you this."

Felnoun had accepted the shiny square covered in their current monarch's seal with the same kind of reverence one might use with a delicate piece of art.

"I'll treasure it always!" Felnoun announced then rushed off to show the token to his siblings before Damascus could explain what it was.

The parents were gracious after that, treating him as if he was not only a Nimon, but one of their family. The others in his unit didn't understand or approve, but good relations with third-party species during war was considered high priority by command. As long as he visited on his own time, no one could reprimand him.

Excited to see them all again in less than a mark, Damascus hurried back to his barracks. The sight that met him wasn't at all what he expected. Cargo bots and labor bots were rushing around everywhere, un-staging the mobile barracks and preparing it for pick up.

"There you are!" Municipal Commander Yawnom yelled, startling Damascus. His superior rarely visited the planet surface, preferring to remain in the "clean and civilized" resupply and transportation ship orbiting the planet. "According to the logs, your shift was done two marks ago. Why are you only now returning?"

Instead of pointing out that he could've been reached at any time via Ident, Damascus slammed his fist against the chest plate of his armor. "I wasn't made aware that you were visiting, Municipal Commander Yawnom. The last mission update I received didn't mention it."

He was skating the edge of politeness by not declaring Yawnom's visit an "unexpected pleasure." Normally it was something Yawnom would jump on, but he seemed too distracted to notice.

"The Orlok mansion in sector 9144 has a Ditori mosaic on the north-facing outside wall. I need you and several men to fetch it for me. Do as little damage as you can. I'll remain here to finish the barrack's pack up."

"We're leaving?" Damascus asked, shocked at the suddenness of their departure. "What's happened?"

"Not that it's necessary for you to know all things," Yawnom said with a loud, irritated rattle, "but the Orlok are mounting a last offensive. They've been blanket barraging everything in front of them. Our military is ready to meet their pitiful attempt to finish this war, but they won't get to this planet before the Orloks. We need to retreat to the safety of the Stansoy system."

Damascus's first thought was for the Nimons. Blanket barrages were so destructive, they often left entire planets uninhabitable for generations.

"With all due respect, sir, we need to evacuate the civilians."

"No, we don't," Yawnom replied, his rattle going from irritated to angry. "The ship is already full; we can't accommodate anymore."

"They can live in the bay for the journey to Stansoy. It'll be tight, but they can make do."

"That bay is going to be full," Yawnom answered. "Now do as I've ordered, and get me the mosaic."

That was when Damascus finally understood that Yawnom was so busy pillaging any wealth the Orloks left behind that he couldn't make room for the Nimons.

"We have to preserve third-party life," Damascus argued. His only hope was the threat of legal action against Yawnom. "You could be demoted and even charged if we leave these Nimons behind."

"You've forgotten your place, Ground Commander Damascus!" Yawnom barked.

Damascus's hold on his anger broke, and he grabbed Yawnom by the throat, lifting him into the air. "You've forgotten our mission! We are warriors for the empire, not common thieves!"

By now their altercation caught the attention of others. Soldiers rushed to pull Damascus away from Yawnom. It took four fellow ground troops, but they managed to subdue him.

"Knock him out and take him up to the ship," Yawnom ordered. "He can spend the rest of his career in the brig waiting for his trial."

Those were the last things he heard before a tube was shoved into one of his nose slits and a bitter smell shot into his nasal cavity. Then everything went black.