The Wild Ba’Neesh Chapter Fifty-Six ©2019 Fay Thompson All Rights Reserved

The Army Soek assisting Serla, Evgeny and Norris dismantled the external doors to open the bunker. Air rushed in.

“This way.” Evgeny said, hurrying forward down a straight corridor to other security doors, easier to break through. They entered the inner offices to find the floor and desk areas littered with men, collapsed and unconscious or dead.

Serla called for medics while he walked from body-to-body, gesturing to the Soek which ones remained alive and to carry them out of the building. At the inner-most office they found two men, Arjan and Dieter, both still breathing. While Serla left the office to deal with the logistics of getting the injured to safety, Evgeny removed a specific computing device and turned to find Norris watching him.

“We need to see them first.” Evgeny said, urgency in his tone.

“What do you think is in there, in those files?” Norris asked, his tone uncertain. Both of them knew Serla would be back in seconds.

“Someone behind what freed me, who kept you from becoming an expendable mule.” Evgeny said, stuffing the device inside his shirt.

“They will find out, discover this deceit.” Norris argued, and then it was too late, Serla arrived in the doorway, his hands full of Dieter’s equipment. He glanced at the desk, noting the absence of one of the many devices. He could guess by the body language of each Soek who held the missing device. He gathered up what remained and acted as if he noticed nothing, but his gaze trailed Evgeny. The stiffness in Norris’ walk argued he was in disagreement with Evgeny’s moves. It explained to Serla why Evgeny had been so adamant to rescue the leadership of the Tule Soc security forces.

Serla sent a rapid stream of messages from his own mental-to-texting program to Brad, indicating the analysis of Evgeny’s continuing slightly off behavior. Serla had a massive computing implant, a feat of brain-to-computer engineering that had not been duplicated since. It was this implant that made Serla so good at high-speed analysis, organization and strategy, among other things. Brad responded with an acknowledgement and warning to be careful, something Serla understood and totally agreed with. A snake with many heads came to mind in the ongoing DireSec investigation of the internal workings of Tule Soc. The main objective centered on the location of all Tule Soc Beloved and finding and securing all weapons designed for use against Soekinesis.

Serla said aloud, “Secure this location for the nationals. We will turn all of these individuals over to them for appropriate handling.”

It wasn’t what Evgeny wanted. In truth, he wanted Arjan dead as he couldn’t yet determine what Arjan might know. Yet, for the moment, he had to stay in apparent alignment with DireSec, his rescuers. He worried about Norris, feeling heavily conflicted.

They passed one of the closed and locked doors. Forced open, it revealed a technical control room, its computing consoles melted with several dead control technicians showing signs of electrocution.

Brad, receiving Serla’s eye imager feed, gained both Jordy, Mael and Elias’ attention, showing them the carnage. Elias waved Karl over. “Freya’s results.” He said, just above a whisper.

Karl stared, nodded and looked at Brad, a somewhat withered Soek inside a massive exo. “You upgraded Elias. Will you upgrade me too, Pirate?”

Brad, somewhat surprised by how frontal Karl was after only a day or two in this company of strangers, gave Karl an apprising look. “I’ll ask Mick.” He said.

Karl nodded. “Need better communications for better combat outcomes.” He said, indifferent to the suggestion that his loyalty might be suspect. He instinctively trusted this Brad the Pirate, a quick evaluation between natural warriors. He would walk next to this Soek at any time.

Mick gestured his foster parents forward along a path leading away from the building. A building which likely seemed to be this Army’s headquarters, on footage. The lone military person and his companion, a local nation/state minister, both hurried forward to try to interject themselves between Mick and his foster parents. Mick and Sofia came to a halt. The altered boy faced the two men.

“There is an agreement that the custody of your foster parents must be returned to their nation/state, Mick Huxley. We demand you complete your interaction with them and uphold your end of this bargain.” The minister said with an abrupt tone. It was clear he was uncomfortable and wished out of this situation as quickly as possible.

Mick leaned over to whisper to Rojer.

Rojer adjusted his posture, a slight affectation his father approved of. His son looked exactly right, so long as you didn’t know him, he appeared the consummate and normal professional.

“We understand there are agreements. We move now to a more comfortable location where refreshments will be made available. Mother Huxley appears in some distress.” Rojer’s tone and delivery were perfect.

Thorne acknowledged a growing appreciation for Mick’s choice in his reprobate, damaged son. The single quality Rojer had that excelled was his voice, and of course his excellent appearance always so carefully maintained. He could see that Mick was shifting the attention away from his bizarre body alterations toward Rojer, as if their roles were reversed. It was a sleight of hand.

It was difficult to challenge the stumbling walk of Mick’s foster mother or the hand of assistance Mick’s foster father was giving her under her elbow. She kept staring from side-to-side, as if surrounded by animals waiting to eat her.

Mick whispered to Rojer who used his external to request Jeffrey attend them. Everyone could hear. Thorne explained aloud that Master Jeffrey Kristo was a well-known Healer, the equivalent to a person with doctor status. The minister and military man followed along uncertainly. In truth, both were growing increasingly uncomfortable under the psychological pressure of the force field and surrounded by creatures and a watchful Army.

Mick steered his foster mother across from his former seat, to its companion slab on the other side of the stairs. The dead Ba’Neesh were still visible but not quite as close. The dead Soek were actually now visible in a more frontal way, their bodies lined up like some outdoor morgue. He gestured for her to sit on the stone platform.

Rojer, whose every word was being carefully listened to, received two Soek who brought both water and some packaged Reserves nutrient bars.

Mick observed his father’s slight twitch of possible amusement when he received a bar for both himself and Mick’s mother.

Mick, Sofia, Rojer and the entourage of guards, paced, leaving Thorne, the military man, the minister and nearly twenty DireSec operatives standing awkwardly on the stairs, waiting on Mick.

Mick’s mother accepted the water and received Jeffrey who spoke to her in soothing tones and offered her a small packet of Reserves anti-anxiety medication. Mick’s father examined the still-sealed package and nodded to her. She opened and tapped the contents into her mouth with a grimace, quickly washed down with the water.

The youngers, flowing with the group, were back to tittering and engaging in conversations and arguments in their normal mixture of German and Neesh. The two nation/state officials couldn’t help but listen to the inane observations of their clothing, appearance and discomfort. The two noted that Damien Thorne was not treated to the same evaluation. It was as if the man were invisible to the youngers. Thorne, on his part, was grateful for the younger’s restraint, understanding it was likely quite temporary.

The younger’s greatest curiosity centered on Mick’s foster parents. It was their first encounter with human pair bonding. They focused on the woman’s distress and the man’s obvious stiffness and wondered how he might look different from the adult Soek around them, when naked. It was an embarrassing discussion. Luckly, neither Mick’s foster mother or father understood German so they remained oblivious to this slightly lewd discussion.

Mick’s mother calmed, the sedative working.

Mick and Sofia came to a halt in front of her. “Better?” Mick managed the single English word.

“Yes, Mick.” She said, nodding, clinging to Mick’s foster father’s hand. He was staring at Mick, his face and expression strained.

Mick whispered to Rojer who nodded.

“We must move the group into the Reserves. It will be a trek.” Rojer gestured toward his father’s DireSec operatives in their distinctive black uniforms with their displayed insignia. “These Directorate Security personnel will walk with you for your comfort and protection. You should speak to any of them if you have a need. As you can see, English is not the native tongue of the local Ba’Neesh or the Soek Army. Mick and Sofia will join you later when the campsite is established.”

“Wait!” The military attache stepped forward as close to Mick as the guards would allow. He noted that all of those guards were now holding primed stunners directed toward him. He pulled himself to a halt.

“This entry into the Reserves is illegal and against International law. No approvals have been negotiated.”

Mick spoke to Rojer who said, “We understand your concern, Sir. However, the Fels have been the home of these Ba’Neesh for thousands of years. You have not negotiated with them for permission to invade these lands in the past. That appears to be the rule most adhered to. We have a Reserves Admin Officer, in the form of Mr. Huxley, to observe and report on how the return to the Fels is managed. You have a computing system, Mr. Huxley?”

Mick’s foster father shook his head, his attention fully on Rojer.

One of the DireSec operatives, receiving a communication from Jordy, stepped forward to hand Mr. Huxley an external, much to the frustration of Thorne and the two nationals.

Mr. Huxley was observing the developing lines of power in the situation and correctly guessed his foster son held the cards. He accepted the external and powered up, discovering he had access to DireSec security channels, left open by the gifting operative. His gaze flickered to his son’s strange distorted face to see Mick watching him, passing a silent message between them. It was a warning look. Mr. Huxley wisely withheld all of his many questions, now was not the time.

His newly received external tingled on his wrist. The small ear capsule that clipped to his earlobe spoke into his ear that he should do exactly as requested and support Mick’s mother at all costs. Mr. Huxley agreed and nodded.

Sofia said, “Can I be the one to cut out their locators?” In German. It was accompanied by a slurpy lick.

Mick, easily captivated by her, told himself his foster parent’s wouldn’t understand the reference to blood. He gave Jeffrey a glance and Jeffrey understood that indeed, a surgery would occur soon. Jeffrey used sub-vocals into his com unit to tell his own medic team to follow the group with the gear.

Aenor was already telling the Soek in charge of the dead Ba’Neesh that they were leaving. It was that fast.

Mick and Sofia angled away from the Thorne group to rejoin the already moving Fels Ba’Neesh now following Karl with Freya comfortably on his shoulders. Karl was striding next to the massive metal exo and trailed by both Soek and Ba’Neesh, all whispering to each other about what Mick had in mind.

Mick fell in next to Elias, with Sofia on one side still holding his claw and Elias on the other, nervous and playing with his new external.

“Mael?” Mick asked. Mael was ahead of him but walking equally slowly on his own strange feet, no longer trapped in footwear.

“Yes?” Mael answered, glancing back. He didn’t stop moving. In his gut he could feel a shift in the Turtle, a rising interest in leaving the area. It had come on so fast he had at first mistaken the sensation for his own restlessness. Now he was certain the entity that was the Turtle was intent on leaving.

The Soek carrying the overhead blanket came off the roof in a planned move that looked practiced. Once on the ground new teams of Soek surrounded them in formation. Karl’s doing. They were joined by several Ba’Neesh pairings who were wearing packs, the Fels Ba’Neesh Battle Group split between protecting the sigil and forming a protective group around Mick. They were augmented by Citadel and Akaitapi Ba’Neesh who seamlessly found their places.

The Turtle walked enmasse out of the town, with the two nationals arguing and sputtering at Thorne the entire way. Mick and his group kept clear. DireSec slowly shifted position to isolate the Huxley’s from the nationals and Thorne. They were directly ahead of them but with several operatives in between.

This time the passage across the field was uneventful beyond noting the burnt areas where the munitions had landed. There was debris. Mick, walking with Elias and the ever chatty Sofia, thought about what his father was likely thinking. Damage to the Reserves, Mick’s fault. His father had always found Mick lacking in some critical way. It made them near strangers. His mother, she was too easy, trying to smooth the path of Mick and he’d abused her for it, pressing her for the games and objects he wanted without really trying to meet her goals for him. Mick confronted these thoughts on the trek. He cared about these two humans but he couldn’t say it was with overwhelming emotions. His lack of depth disturbed him.

They arrived at the treeline with early evening already dimming the light. The youngers, now tired after a day of unusual exercise were keeping up, but barely, and their occasional spats grew more frequent. The older Ba’Neesh simply ignored such things, making no effort to tend to the youngers.

It was the surrounding Army that broke up the spats and more than a few of the Soek lifted exhausted youngers to their shoulders for free rides. It quickly became a trend and soon there were only a few of the older Ba’Neesh youngers still walking.

Mick felt a sense of refuge when the trees closed in overhead. The urgency inside of him now centered on finding a suitable place for the ritual. He knew he would need to separate the humans from the event. “Elias?” He started to ask only for Elias to hold up his hand. “Serla and Brad already organized how to separate the humans in both DireSec and the attending nationals as well as your fosters. The Akaitapi are guiding Serla with that group toward a cave. It is distant from the ritual site.”

Mick felt strangely inadequate. He was surrounded by competent older people who seemed to understand what must happen next. Clearly, roles were shifting. He wondered if his feelings were attached to his foster parents being so near by. They needed to have a conversation. He felt conflicted by the certainty of that reality. It was a formal ending. He knew his attachment to them was weak and weakening even with them present. It was as if they belonged to a person who had died, with only the shadow of the relationship remaining.

Sofia, who had run ahead to pick up pine cones with the other youngers, returned to hand him one. “Exploding leaves.” She announced, clearly in possession of at least some of the details of the Ba’Neesh prior to her own rescue and release.

He realized he felt more for this child he’d known only a few hours than for his foster parents. He kept walking, knowing the Akaitapi were ahead somewhere, leading the group through the trees. He showed Sofia the tree seeds hiding inside the pine cone, remembering his own foster father showing him when he was little. It was an odd echo, as if some part of himself were testing his feelings. She danced away again to show other youngers the magical seeds that could grow into trees. Some thought she lied and argued with her. Then she was back, lagging, not unlike Mick himself.

The Turtle flowed with them passing nature easily inside its invisible perimeter. As a group the deeper they went the quieter people became. It was settling in that they were a group, that something more was going to take place. The Soek were struggling to comprehend their involvement, asking questions of each other than none could answer.

Then, those carrying the dead, walked past Mick’s group and it was like a message. Destination. Mick, Elias and Sofia found nearby rocks to sit on, others found the ground. In the distance Mick could hear his Reserves Admin foster father complaining about how this many people were damaging the woods. He agreed. He watched that group walk away toward the side, to the very edge of the perimeter before his sense of them vanished. He guessed they had gone underground into one of the many caves.

Rojer came up behind Mick, unhappy there was no where decent to sit without ruining his pants.

Mick pointed to a nearby rock. “Best seat in the house, Rojer.” He said, barely understandable even to himself. Sofia was yawning and leaning against him, her pinecone forgotten on the ground nearby.

Brad came over to squat so he was facing Mick. “Isolation achieved.” He said, “Serla brought knock out gas for the humans. Jeffrey says they will have hangovers in the morning but will be fine.”

“I need to see them soon, Brad.” Mick said painfully slow, forcing each word out for clarity.”

“Yes, I expect so. Your voice is barely understandable.” Brad nodded. “Will you consent to wearing an audio pickup? I have years of Neesh files and practice that are only improving now that there is the Ba.” He asked.

Mick felt the discomfort of his growing disability. Why was his alter impacting his ability to communicate effectively? Part of him wondered if it were some kind of twisted punishment for his use of profanity. That felt ridiculous but he couldn’t help his guilty conscience. Everything was happening so fast. He knew how he was here, but, how had this happened? As these thoughts poked at him, he shook his head, as if by the physical movement he could prevent the deep knowledge from its inevitable path upward toward the front of his brain.

“Mick?” Brad asked again.

“Good idea.” Mick managed to say. “At least for now. Sofia understands me well enough and I think Elias too but I understand your desire to understand Neesh better, Brad. Besides, Rojer will need the help I think.” They all looked over at the fastidious Rojer picking at forest litter landing bit-by-bit on his clothing.

Rojer looked up to find everyone staring at him. “What?” He asked, as if caught doing something wrong.

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