Tigra Read online

  "Okay, now, close your left eye and look down the barrel. See the little projection at the end? Line it up with a branch. Got it?"

  Samson had a little difficulty maneuvering his larger head into the right position, but finally, tilting his neck sharply, he said he was pretty sure he had it.

  "Okay, now, slowly squeeze the trigger."

  There was a burst of static, and a cloud of sand erupted twenty feet in front of them.

  "How was that?” he asked.

  "Pitiful."

  Samson was undaunted. “You know, you should really work on your pep talks. Anyway, it was just my first try.” He patted the tube below the rifle. “What's this for?"

  "That's the concussion cannon. Don't worry, you won't ever be using it.” She went on to explain its uses and effects.

  "Rrrrr,” he said when she had finished. “Sounds dangerous."

  "It is, and not just to your enemy. It can cause internal damage to the user as well. It can't be used safely without wearing body armor."

  They spent the rest of the day practicing and looking for game, without much luck. Neither was particularly upset about that, as the day was nice and they had brought along provisions for an overnight.

  Jeena sat by the fire finishing up the last of the soup. A small blanket covered her shoulders, warming her against the cool of the night. Samson was pacing and nosing around, looking uncomfortable.

  "You brought something to sleep on, I hope,” he said, eying the blanket around her.

  "Yes, you spoiled cat, there's a bedroll big enough for both of us in the pack."

  Samson stared oddly at her for a moment before rummaging through the pack. He found the bedroll and unrolled it before the fire, lying down on it and gazing silently into the flames.

  Jeena finished the soup and lay down next to him.

  "What's wrong?” she asked.

  "Nothing,” he said, and she did not press him. After a few minutes he spoke again. “I'm not an animal, Jeena."

  "No? You sure as hell smell like one."

  Samson pulled away from her.

  "Hey, I'm joking. I know you're not an animal. Don't you think I know that?"

  "You wanted me to hunt like one,” he said, and there was hurt in his voice.

  "I just want you to be what you're supposed to be, dummy. I'm flying blind here. On the one hand, I want you to grow and learn as much as you can, but on the other I don't want you to lose your native culture in the process."

  "Tigras don't have a culture!” he snapped. “They're just dirty, stupid animals."

  "Don't say that."

  "Why not? You say it all the time."

  Jeena squirmed uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, sometimes I say things I don't mean."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know, just because."

  "Because you're mean."

  "Yeah, maybe I am. I guess I haven't had much experience in not being mean."

  "I know. And I know you were really hurt on that bad planet, and that sometimes the nightmares make you say terrible things, but, Jeena ... sometimes you make me feel so bad.” He curled up in a ball and covered his eyes with a paw. “I don't want to be a tigra. I want to be like you."

  Jeena cursed herself. What do I say to that? I don't know how to be compassionate. I never learned.

  "All right, look, here's the deal. You can't pay attention to the things I say. I don't mean anything by them. I'm so used to treating people like shit that I guess I've just been treating you the same way. But I'm not going to do that anymore—or at least I'm going to really try. Okay?"

  He did not reply.

  "Understand?"

  "No, I can't understand, I'm just an animal."

  "No, you're not. I mean, yes, you are a tigra, but you are not just an animal and you are far from stupid. The truth is, Samson, you're brilliant."

  He rolled over. “I am?"

  "Yes, you are. You've managed to learn in just a few short months what it would have taken a human child a decade to learn."

  "You're just saying that."

  "It's the truth. You have an incredible mind."

  He grew quiet again. Gently, he took her hand in his paw, touching it and examining it closely.

  "I don't want to be brilliant. I want to be human,” he whispered. “I wish I had hands instead of paws, and I didn't have this stupid tail, and this big dumb nose, and..."

  "I like you fine just the way you are."

  "I'm ugly."

  Jeena smiled. “No, you're not. Actually, I think you're very handsome."

  "Yeah, right."

  "I mean it."

  They watched the fire together in silence.

  "Why aren't there any more like me, Jeena?” he asked finally.

  It was a question she had asked herself many times.

  "I don't know, Samson. I just don't know."

  They awoke the next morning to a chill dawn, with Jeena thoroughly ensconced in Samson's fur. She had moved up against him during the night and wrapped her arms and legs around his body.

  He disengaged from her and stomped around the dying embers of the fire, trying to get the circulation back in his legs.

  "You know, it would be a lot easier if you just made a coat out of me.” He stood on his hind legs and stretched, scratching his chest and belly. Like all tigras, he could stand and walk on his hind legs but found it awkward and much less efficient than walking on all fours, and only did it when he needed his front paws free. “So, what's for breakfast?"

  Jeena shivered.

  "Unless your aim gets better, dirt and grass.” She stood and began folding the bedroll back into the pack. “Grab the MAAD, Buffalo Bill, it's time for more practice."

  By late that day they had accomplished their mission and were back in camp with a prize wolla, a buck Jeena had bagged. They were not, however, back on speaking terms. This was due to an errant shot which had just missed Jeena's posterior, the firing of which was totally and completely not Samson's fault, and besides, if a “safety” was such an all-important thing to know why didn't she tell him about it before?

  Chapter 8

  Sing, children of Ibrahim! Let loose your voices to heaven! At last we are joined, and the lost tribe is found. Sing, children of Ibrahim! For we are all gathered again in our father's house.

  32nd Psalm, Judaslam Qatar

  Samson paced outside the tent. The morning air was cool and sweet, the end of summer was rapidly approaching; and while the days were still warm, there was a briskness in the air that had been missing just a few weeks before.

  He was nearly full-grown now, more than twice Jeena's weight, and taller by a head if he stood on his hind legs. The small purring sounds that earlier had inflected his speech had completely disappeared. According to what Vicki had to say about tigras, Jeena put him at the young adult stage.

  Over the last several months, their relationship had evolved from teacher/student to one of more-or-less equals, but he bowed to her age and experience on most decisions. Not that he was above throwing his weight around—literally. He once carried her all the way to the stream and threw her in to emphasize a point.

  "Hurry up in there, I gotta go,” he yelled into the tent.

  Jeena stumbled out, tying up the laces of her moccasins. She had made them from a wolla hide after her prison sandals had finally disintegrated around her feet.

  "I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying. Geez, I wish you'd learn to go by yourself."

  Samson ignored her. He was staring intently out over the southern horizon. “Uh, Jeena..."

  She followed his gaze. In the distance was a hazy cloud of sand. She went quickly into the tent and brought out the binoculars. She studied the oncoming cloud before handing them to Samson.

  "Three riders on kytars,” he said. “Dark clothes and beards. They're coming this way."

  "Let's get to the ship."

  Samson sat in the dayroom watching her slip into her flight suit. She had washed it thoroughly after landing so, altho
ugh it was tattered, at least it was clean. She'd torn off all the Union insignia, leaving only her captain's bars and her name. Flight suits looked pretty much alike no matter which side of the war you were on, and she didn't think these people would notice any subtle differences. The ship itself was completely black, all its outer identifying marks having been burned away in re-entry.

  "Why are you getting dressed?” Samson asked. The whole matter of clothing perplexed him. If they weren't worn to keep out the elements, what was their point?

  "These are religious fundamentalists. I doubt they'd look kindly on greeting a naked woman.” Jeena zipped up the suit. “All right, I'll go talk with them and find out what I can. I want you to stay here and keep still."

  "Why?"

  "Why? Well, because I'm not sure how they'll react. I mean, I don't think they're aware...” She sighed. “Samson, humans can sometimes act irrationally when faced with something new. I just want to size them up first, that's all."

  "You mean about me."

  "I mean including you."

  "Does this have anything to do with what happened at the cliffs?"

  Jeena paused at the door. They had never spoken of the events at the cliffs since that day.

  "Please, just stay here."

  He tapped his back paw. “I still have to go,” he reminded her.

  The sounds of hooves could be heard slowing outside the hatchway.

  "Hold it,” she said firmly, and walked out to meet the riders.

  The three men had dismounted and were staring in wonder at the enormous, partially buried ship. They all wore the same dark, coarse robes as the men at the cliffs, with green crescent moons on their chests. Swords hung from leather scabbards around their waists. The hilts of their knives peeked from beneath their cloaks. Four kytars stood snorting and stomping in the brush nearby.

  Jeena smiled warmly as she descended the steps, but it was a façade. She felt decidedly unfriendly toward these people, and not just because of what she had seen at the cliffs. It's been almost two years since I last had contact with other human beings. If Samson has become more human during that time, I have not. I feel more like a wild animal than he does. I just want to be left alone.

  She reached the bottom of the steps and held out her hand.

  "Welcome, gentlemen, I am Captain Jeena Garza, pilot of this vessel.” She had deliberately omitted her affiliation and hoped the omission went unnoticed.

  The tallest and sternest of the three stepped forward and bowed stiffly. He did not take the offered hand.

  "I am Serug of New Jerusalem. This is Ibrahim, and Esau.” He pointed to his left and right respectively. He stared up again at the huge ship towering above them. “We have not seen such as this in many a generation. We thought perhaps thy ship was a mirage—such things are frequent in the desert. But I see both thee and it are real.” He returned his gaze to Jeena. “Has the Union, then, finally returned to Ararat?"

  "You say the Union. Then you are not aligned with the Coalition?” she asked cautiously.

  "Coalition?"

  "Yes, in the war."

  Serug appeared confused.

  "The civil war,” she added.

  The one Serug had introduced as Ibrahim, the eldest of the three, spoke.

  "Ah, yes, I remember stories of a great war, one that raged whilst my father was still a boy. But can it be that this is the same war of which thou speaks?"

  "Yes,” she answered, “it's the same war."

  Serug shook his head. “I know naught of this. But the petty wars of mankind are of no concern to us. We are Afridi, people of God. We are aligned only with the Almighty."

  "Why has the Union returned?” asked Esau. “We have no wish for outsiders on Ararat."

  Jeena studied the man closely. He was of medium height and build and appeared young, perhaps early twenties. His unkempt hair and patchy beard were a dirty red, his teeth stained yellow. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were so dark they were almost black, and sunk deep into his skull. She had seen such eyes before, but on a much older face—in the gorge below the cliffs.

  "My presence here is an accident,” she explained. “My ship malfunctioned, and I was forced to make an emergency landing."

  "So it seems,” Serug replied, gazing at the small camp just beyond the wing of the ship. “Thou hast been here long?"

  "Almost two full Ararat years."

  "A long time to survive alone in the desert. Thou art alone, yes?” he asked.

  Jeena hesitated only an instant. “Yes, I'm alone."

  "And none have found thee until now?"

  "No, you're the first human contact I've had since my crash. I was aware there were colonies on Ararat, but without knowing their locations, I thought it best not to wander randomly."

  "Yes, that was wise,” Ibrahim agreed. “We are the only colony near to thee, and we are across the western desert. It would be a difficult trek on foot. We ourselves seldom venture so far east. Only the cleansing brings us here today."

  "The cleansing?"

  "Yes, every year we of the Rosh-dan scour all of Ararat in search of tigra. We are just one of several such parties."

  "Tigra?” Jeena asked in an innocent tone.

  "Yes, tigra,” Esau spat. “A cunning and vile devil in the shape of a stalking cat. Perhaps thou hast seen such an animal? Large and ferocious, golden of hair and of eye?"

  She held her gaze steady on his. “No, I'm sorry. I haven't."

  "Ah, well, there were never many in the south, and few remain in the western lands, thanks to our vigilance. Soon all of Ararat will be free of this unholy plague,” Serug said.

  "You hunt them?"

  "They are unclean in the eyes of God,” replied Ibrahim. “Like the snake in the Garden of Eden, they are the embodiment of evil on Ararat. It is our law that none should live. The Rosh-dan do not hunt them for sport. They are captured and sacrificed to the greater glory of Yahweh."

  "And their corpses left to rot,” said Esau, grinning.

  Jeena fought her involuntary shudder.

  "I see. And the Rosh-dan, what is that?"

  "We are soldiers of the Rosh-dan, the Army of God,” answered Serug. “The green crescent is our symbol."

  An army? Then I was right in my assessment at the cliffs.

  "I have never heard of a zed-tech colony requiring an army. Surely, there is little need?"

  "We are an army against evil, Captain, and evil is to be found in all places where man refuses to accept God's will,” Serug explained, “Ararat included."

  "I assume by that you mean the other colony, the Babylonians? Then, they still exist as well?"

  "Exist?” Serug snorted. “If that is what thou wishes to call it. They are warlike barbarians and infidels who live in total disregard of the laws of God. It is good they did not find thee. Such has been their descent into savagery it is rumored they practice cannibalism."

  Ibrahim shuddered and made a sign over his chest.

  "Well,” continued Serug, “God in his infinite mercy has spared thee from the infidel and sent his servants to thy rescue. Come, gather what belongings thou may need and accompany us to New Jerusalem. We have an extra mount, as thou canst see."

  "Yes,” Jeena replied. “I thought maybe you had lost a man."

  "Nay. But the desert can be an unforgiving place. We always bring an extra mount when we venture away from our cities. Come, thou will have no difficulty riding him, though thou hast no experience. He is a gentle animal, strong and surefooted."

  Suddenly, a sound like a stream of water flowing into a hollow bowl emanated from the hatchway. Jeena paled as the three men gazed up at the noise.

  "Wastewater reclamation unit,” she explained quickly.

  The flowing sound stopped, replaced by the flush of the ship's toilet.

  "Needs work,” she added, her face reddening. Good thing these people seem unfamiliar with indoor plumbing. “As to my accompanying you,” she continued quickly, turnin
g their attention away from the ship, “I am very grateful, but I'm afraid I can't. I am a Union officer and must remain with my ship. I've sent a distress signal—I have to be here when the rescue ship arrives,” she lied.

  Esau leaned forward and whispered into Serug's ear. Serug nodded as the man finished.

  "Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “Captain, thou art the first contact we have had with the outside in many generations. The Council of the Rosh-dan—the leaders of our order—will wish to speak with thee at more length. I am afraid I must insist that thou accompany us back to New Jerusalem. Surely, a message can be left for thy people, explaining where thou hast gone?"

  "Thou hast done well, child, to have survived so long, but this land is fraught with many dangers. We cannot simply ride away and leave thee to fend for thyself alone here in the wilderness,” added Ibrahim.

  She studied the determined faces before her. It's obvious they are not going to leave without me. Continuing to resist will only raise suspicions, and I can't risk exposing Samson. What would their reaction be to him, I wonder? Shock? Disbelief? Worse? Surely, they could not see him and hear him, and yet still regard him as a thing to be destroyed? But, I won't chance that yet. Not until I know more.

  "Very well,” she said, trying to smile. “I would be honored to visit your city. I must secure the ship before we leave. I won't be long."

  They bowed to her in unison, and Jeena returned the courtesy then hurried up the landing ramp and into the dayroom. She found Samson sitting quietly near the bed, his ears flat against his head and his whiskers twitching.

  "What did you think you were doing?” she snapped. “My heart almost stopped!"

  "I said I had to go,” he replied. “Did you want me to use the floor?"

  "No, I suppose not.” She shuffled her feet nervously. “Listen, I, um ... I have to go away for a while."

  "I know. I heard. I heard everything,” he said, his voice cracking. “They kill tigras."

  "Samson..."

  "You knew, didn't you? It's what they did to the tigra at the cliffs. You knew, and you didn't tell me. Why?"

  She sat next to him. “I don't know. There was nothing I could do to stop it, and what good would telling you have done? I didn't want to hurt you. You were so young."