Lawrence Schoen - Barsk - The Elephants' Graveyard

Jorl blinked and grasped his nervously twitching trunk with both hands, still staring at the spot where the Dying Fant had stood. It had to be some kind of trick, the stench an illusion, the flames a distraction. You couldn’t just kill people like that!

He spread his ears as the words of the new arrival muscled their way past both horror and denial and entered his awareness. Every book, every treatise, every paper he’d ever written and submitted for inclusion in any professional journal or conference proceedings had first been vetted by the Committee of Information. From an academician’s perspective, it was the most powerful group within the governing body of the Alliance. Its twenty-five members maintained and regulated all formal education, passed judgment on all research funding, and pretty much defined the sum total of expert knowledge in existence. He had made it his business to learn about each and every one of them. Only one Yak sat on the committee; Jorl had never met the man, but he had no doubt about his identity or the power he wielded.

Judging by the subservient tone that had crept into Krasnoi’s voice, the Urs understood the Bos’s authority, too.

“Senator Bish, I assure you, you have not walked in on anything untoward. Rather, I am simply tying up some loose ends of this project.”

“Loose ends? I have read all of your mission briefings, Urs-Major, and I don’t recall seeing anything that might account for this. There should be no loose ends .”

“With all due respect, sir—”

“Spare me your excuses. This entire project is a violation of the Alliance’s treaty with its own member planet. You shouldn’t even be here, nor I for all that. The only sapient beings permitted on Barsk are Fant. On behalf of the Committee, I set aside that prohibition very reluctantly. So you will understand if I find the need to scrutinize something you choose to describe in such a manner.”

The Yak had completed his approach as he spoke, skirting the smoldering pit where the Dying Fant had stood, slowing to study each of the Ailuros as he passed, before halting in front of Krasnoi. He stared down at Jorl.

“Speaking of Fant, this one seems distressed. Also too young, if I understood your acquisition scheme. Why is he here?” Bish paused. He turned his shaggy head with slow deliberation, an acquired habit necessary given his horns. “Again speaking of Fant, where are they?”

“I determined their usefulness had come to an end. In actual fact, as I’ll be detailing in my report, hindsight reveals that they never had any information of value.”

“Hindsight? That’s just lovely. We trample over these people’s Compact, abduct and detain their citizens, and you’re telling me you failed to learn anything useful. I also note that you’ve failed to answer my question. I will ask you one more time. Where are they?”

Jorl lurched up to his knees. “He killed them!”

“They were already dead,” said Krasnoi. He looked as if he might kick the Lox, but stopped short at a tight-lipped shake of the Bos’s head.

“Tell me, Major, how do you kill the dead?”

“A … minor exaggeration, Senator. They were all on their way to die, would have been dead already had my people not interfered and brought them here, I—”

Quicker than Jorl had expected an old man could move, the Yak brought a hand up and pressed two fingers to the Bear’s mouth.

“Shh, hush, Major. Words are precious things. Don’t waste what might be the last ones you have. According to your reports, you acquired two hundred seventeen Fant. I see one remaining. Unless you correct my impression, I am to understand you have taken it upon yourself to murder the other two hundred sixteen. Do I have that right? Ah, hold a moment.” He paused and glanced back the way he’d come. “Druz, tell me you acquired all of that.”

A second arrival caught Jorl’s attention. A slow-moving Brady had trailed after the Bos, catching up at last. She wore a shapeless kaftan that shifted with dark colors; lenses throughout the folds of her clothing glimmered with reflected light from the fire. “Yes, sir, it’s all been recorded, both audio and video.”

The senator turned back to Krasnoi, lowering his hand from the Bear’s mouth. “You were about to say?”

“With respect, sir, this is a sanctioned military action, I take offense at your use of the word murder .”

“You’re quite right, I misspoke. I should have said mass murder.”

“Senator!”

“The Committee granted you broad discretionary authority to acquire the information we required, but that does not equate with a license for senseless slaughter.”

“They would all have been dead by now anyway! They had all chosen to die.”

The senator frowned and waved Druz closer. When the Sloth arrived at his side the Yak reached a hand down to help Jorl to his feet, and kept hold of his arm as he spoke to his aide.

“You have the Fant medical data in your system?”

“Yes, sir,” said the Brady. “Both Lox and Eleph. A moment.” She lifted her arms and passed the massive sleeves of her garment back and forth over Jorl in a languid gesture. Bits gleamed upon them. “He’s in shock, sir. I also note several bruised ribs, and an unusual reading that I suspect comes from the luminescent mark on his forehead.”

Bish turned back to Jorl. “You said that the major killed your people. I need you to be clear and factual now, for the record. How do you know this thing? Did you see it yourself?”

Jorl pointed past the arc of security guards to the still-smoldering pit behind them. He struggled to keep his voice from trembling as he answered. “Right there. He gathered them up and burned them where they stood. Melted the ground out from under them, it was so hot. Can’t you smell it? They’re just ash and sludge now.”

“The major did it himself?”

“No,” sobbed Jorl. “The Pandas did the actual burning. But he ordered it. I was right here next to him. If you’d arrived just a bit sooner … they were all here, all still alive…”

“Take your time, Son. You’ve been through a lot. No one should have to see what you’ve witnessed.” A signal passed between the senator and his aid.

She stepped close again, bringing her right arm up, then hesitated.

“May I touch you?”

Jorl nodded, and the Brady’s three-fingered hand pressed lightly against his neck. In the next instant, something shot from her sleeve, injecting him.

“What did you give me?”

“A cocktail common in traumatic situations. An analgesic for physical pain. A mnemonic marker, to make it easier for a physician to edit out your memory of this event, should you later choose to do so. And a tranquilizer to ease the experience in the here and now.” She stepped back, nodding first to him and then to the Bos as her long arm within its longer sleeve dropped back to her side.

The senator returned the nod and then focused on Jorl once more. “What’s your name?”

“Jorl ben Tral.”

“Well, Jorl, although Barsk may have chosen isolation among the terms of your Compact, it is nonetheless a part of our Alliance. You’ve probably never given it a thought, lacking any formal representatives of your own, but I and my fellow senators were elected to serve all citizens and secure their best interests. There can be no just governance without responsibility and accountability. Isn’t that right, Druz?”

The Sloth had edged closer to the Bear. She raised her hand, the left one this time, and let it rest it gingerly against Krasnoi’s chest, the folds of her sleeve hanging open below her wrist. Now she lifted her chin in the beginning of a nod to indicate the major should speak.

“Senator, the situation underwent an extreme change today. There hasn’t even been time to begin formulating the reports.”