A light rain began that evening. The Gungans, as usual, gathered for
storytelling, but the humans, exhausted from their day of training and
preferring to stay dry, opted to spend the evening in their shelters. The
younger children were playing a memory game, "Going to Market", in which
they generated a list of items they would buy, in alphabetical order. Each
player had to recite the list in correct order, and then add an item of his or
her own. The game could be played using any subject, but since all the children
had had some experience with buying (or at least wanting to buy) things,
they'd settled on this one.
Somewhere around the letter "M", there were sounds of something moving
outside the shelter, and Brandes halted the game. "Who's there?" she
called out into the darkness.
"Iss Kippton Tarpals," came the older Gungan's gravelly voice. "My'm
sorry for disturbin' yousan."
Brandes peered out into the rainy night. "You're not disturbing us, Captain.
Would you like to come in?"
"No, thanka yous. My'm chust setting up a place to sleep."
"You're going to sleep out in the rain?" asked Arlan.
The captain snorted in amusement. "Mesa Guungan – bein' wet iss no
trouble a'tall. Water iss'n gift from O'mas, the Creator. Allus
welcome."
"Another Gungan legend?" asked Brandes.
Tarpals tilted his head in a shrug, even though he doubted the Naaboo
could see him, and continued unrolling the leather ground cloth. "Yiss. Berry
old story."
There was an expectant silence inside the shelter. Finally Arlan remarked,
"Aren't you going to tell it?"
Tarpals paused. "Mesa no storyteller," he replied, and shook out the ground
cloth, which would protect him from the burrowing insects that were occasional
Gungan parasites.
"Not even a little?"
Tarpals snorted softly. "Well, mebbe a little." When he spoke next, his
voice came from just outside the entrance. "Pro'lly more comf'table
iff'n wesa all inside." The children and Brandes backed away to give him
room to enter; Tarpals, being taller than any of them, folded himself up and sat
cross-legged.
"Story sess that when O'mas created the world, shesa wanted ever'thing
even, so shesa medd 'zactly the same 'mount of land and water. But
A'Pensik, god of Luck and Chance, hesa loved the water an' wanted it to
cover the world. Hesa argued with O'mas an' tried to mekk her cover the land
with water. O'mas, shesa loved the land as much as the water, so shesa
refused.
"U'daray, the god of Hunting, shesa wanted more land for mekking more
h'animals to hunt. Shesa and A'Pensik fought and argued. During one fight,
A'Pensik tricked hersa into tipping over O'mas's drinking gourd, and
all'n the water spilled onto the world, covering the land and mekking the
planet all water.
"U'daray and A'Pensik, theysa both 'shamed at what theysa done. But
O'mas, shesa looked at the world and sedd, 'Mesa think mebbe thiss'n a
good thing. Less see.' Shesa dug down into the world, squeezin' it, mekkin'
the core hollow so's lott'n the water stayed there. The extra earth, shesa
piled on the plains an' mountains, so theysa 'bove the water most'n the
time. Then shesa took some'n the water and medd the clouds to bring rain, so
even the plains and mountains would remember water. An' shesa took some'n
the water and gev it to all'n the plants and animals. Wesa all needin' water
to survive. All of ussan hev water inside."
"That's true," Nalla said. "We learned in school that water makes up
most of our bodies."
"Wasn't O'mas angry with U'daray and A'Pensik?" asked Arlan.
"Mesa 'spect so, but shesa berry wise god – shesa can mekk good things
come even from mistakes." He unfolded his legs. "So. Iff'n yousan excuse
mesa, this has been a berry long-o day, and mesa needin' to rest."
"Of course. Thank you." Brandes heard him crawling out of the entrance.
"Can I sleep outside, too, Minister Brandes?" Arlan asked.
"Absolutely not. Humans aren't meant to sleep outdoors in the rain."
"B'sides," Tarpals's voice drifted back inside over the patter of the
raindrops, "iff'n yousa don't sleep in he-ah, the riders who built
thiss'n shelter will think yousa no liken their work. Berry insulting."
Addressing his next words to Brandes, he added, "My will be sleeping right
outside. Good night."
Brandes considered his words as the game picked up again. This was the first
time she'd even seen him after dark; the captain had usually been busy keeping
an eye on the activities in and around their camp. There had to be a reason for
his behavior, and she doubted he was sleeping near them because he felt lonely.
The remainder of Otoh Gunga's defenders had boarded bon-ghos and
other submarines and launched into the dark waters of the lake. Most of the
city's lights were out; many of the bubble dwellings had lost their
hydrostatic skins, and debris floated in the water. In the lead ship, Tarpals
leaned over the console and spoke into a vibration device that relayed sound
through the water over short distances. "Final attack force, follow me. All
other ships, get to the surface. All personnel will meet at the designated
places. If you cannot make the meeting place, go by whatever route you can to
the Sacred Place."
Nearly a dozen ships veered off to follow Tarpals; the rest sped away toward the
lakeshore. "We'll take the lead ship," Tarpals continued. "All others,
choose your targets. Ramming speed. Eject the forward compartment at the last
possible moment. Once you're clear, proceed to the lakeshore and the meeting
places."
His navigator aimed the bow of the bon-gho at the lead surface ship and
accelerated. It would be a delicate maneuver; eject too soon, and the bon-gho
would miss its target; too late and those aboard would be killed by the impact.
The navigator was crouched over the steering mechanism, frowning in
concentration, eyes fixed on her target.
"Steady," Tarpals murmured. "We want to hit them before they know we're
coming."
"Yes, Captain. Of course, Captain. With all due respect, Captain, I have
done this before. I know what I'm doing," she interrupted. "You might want
to strap in. Sir."
"And how many times have you done this, exactly?" Tarpals slid into his
seat, eyes on the approaching underside of the target ship.
Unphased, she replied, "Twice, Captain. Once in practice maneuvers, and once
during my initial steering lessons."
He wrestled his restraining harness in place. "That does not exactly inspire
unwavering confidence, Lieutenant Orrin."
"Maybe by the end of this cruise, you'll change your mind, sir."
"Assuming we both survive," Tarpals responded dryly.
"Count on it, Captain."
The underside of the ship loomed before them. Something exploded behind them –
one of the other bon-ghos had struck its target. There was a second
explosion off to one side. The ship's hull filled most of their forward
viewdome, and Orrin reached for a lever on the left side of the front control
panel. "Almost," she murmured, "almost...."
The front cockpit separated from the body of the bon-gho with a dull
thud, and Orrin immediately shoved the lever forward and sideways, plunging the
nose of the escape pod toward the lake bottom. Above them, the rest of the bon-gho
slammed into the underside of the enemy vessel. The impact shattered the
bottom of the ship. The bon-gho engines exploded. Orrin shoved the
steering mechanism to one side; the pod heeled over, bobbed clear of the sinking
wreckage of the lead ship, and drifted upward. The pod broke the lake's
surface, and Orrin slapped the hydrostatic controls, "popping" the bubble
that kept water out of the submarine. Both Gungans dove into the lake, swimming
deep to avoid detection by any of the other ships, and struck out for shore.
Risking a glance over his shoulder, Tarpals could see several of the invaders'
ships sinking, and more of his Patrol in the water....
Tarpals jerked awake. The sounds around him were forest sounds -- wind through
the leaves, water dripping, and the murmur of the stream in the distance. The
noise of protesting engines and explosions faded with his dream.
"Captain? Are you all right?" Hela Brandes was on her hands and knees at the
entrance to the shelter. The light was dim, even for Gungan eyes.
"Yiss. Mesa fine, thanka yous." Tarpals sat up and rested his arms on his
knees. The rain had stopped, but everything was still wet. Brandes settled
herself into a sitting position in the entrance.
"Captain, may I ask why you're sleeping here? With us, I mean."
Tarpals sighed. "Some of oursan folks, theysa not berry happy 'bout training
with yousan. Mesa decided to sleep he-ah, chust in case. Sent Orrin to kipp an
eye on the rest'n yous in the other shelter."
"Do you really think some of your people would hurt us?" Brandes asked.
Tarpals thought for a moment. "Don't think anyone would hu'ht yousan on
purpose, but theysa might see iff'n theysa could scare yousan. Lotta
frustration right now, lookin' for a place to go."
"Thank you for your concern, Captain.
"Rep Brand-ess, mesa promised to tekk yousan to Tendesay. Mesa meanin' to
kipp that promise."
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of insects and running
water. Under the canopy of trees, the air was still. Far off in the distance,
Brandes could hear some creature call out, then call again, the cry trailing off
unanswered. A faint creak of leather told her that the Gungan had moved; he was
now sitting cross-legged, hands resting on his knees. Too awake now to try going
back to sleep, she cast about for a topic of conversation.
"Captain, I know that your people are native to this world. You don't call
it 'Naboo', do you?"
Tarpals snorted softly in the darkness, although Brandes didn't think he
sounded amused this time. "No. 'Naaboo' iss what wesa call yoursa
people. When theysa fust kemm heah, called themselves some-att that sounded
liken 'Naaboo', anyways. Wesa call thiss'n world by its own nemm." The
Gungan trilled softly in the darkness, the notes punctuated by clicks and spoken
sounds. Brandes realized this was the name of the planet in the Gungan's own
language. After nearly a minute, the sounds ended.
Brandes smiled. "Your name for this planet is a song? What a lovely idea.
I'm a musician, myself. I would never have thought of singing a name."
"Wuss given to ussan by the gods," Tarpals told her. "Thiss'n wo'ld
gott'n a secret nemm, too, only known to oursan Shrine Kippers. Theysa use it
in theirsan prayers."
"Secret name?"
"Yiss. Ever'thing hass a secret nemm – all'n the buhds, plants, animals,
even the gods."
Brandes thought for a moment. "I don't understand. Why would anything need a
secret name?"
She sensed him moving in the darkness as he shifted position. "Allus some part
of ever'thing is hidden. Allus some-att 'bout someone yousa don't know.
Wesa nebber see all'n this wo'ld, or know ever'thing there iss to know
'bout ennything. Secret nemms stand for thiss'n hidden knowledge."
"Everything has one? Even you?"
Tarpals's tone was dry. "'Course'n. Only two of ussan know it – mesa,
and the Shrine Kipper where I wass born. Iss not some-att wesan tell ennyone."
"Oh. I'm sorry if I intruded on something private."
"My'm not offended, Rep Brand-ess."
"Nevertheless, let's change the subject. Something else I was wondering
about – what is the story of the Kintara Patrol that Lieutenant Peskis was
asked to tell the other night?"
"Iss'n old story. Wuss long, long 'go, before wesa lived unner the water.
In those days, theysa monsters livin' onna land, t'reatening oursa people.
The wust of the monsters was Kynaalat-h'orrek -- mesa thinkin' that
would be 'Thunder Monster' in Bassic. The Kintara Patrol wuss made up
of oursan best warriors, from all'n the clans, an' they rode out to fight Kynaalat-h'orrek.
The stories, theysa say the gods themselves came to do battle b'side ussan.
They wuss led by H'raadok, god of war. They fought an' fought, through both
the rainy an' dry sea-ssons. Finally the monster wuss destroyed, but hiss
children wuss left behind, and theysa disappeared into the water. Wesa still
fight them to this day. H'raadok an' the rest'a the gods disappeared."
"And the Patrol?" Brandes asked.
The Gungan sighed. "They wuss no survivors. Oursan people wuss saved, but
oursan best warriors never kem back. Stories say thersan spirits, theysa went
with the gods."
The human woman let out a breath. "I can see why you didn't want him telling
that particular story just now."
"Wesa facin 'nother great monster," Tarpals commented. "This army of maccaneeks.
Theysa commin' to swallow ussan. It mebbe that wesa all goin' the way of the
Patrol."
"I don't think we can count on the help of the gods this time."
Tarpals shrugged. "Issen no matter. Issen the soldier's job to stand
'tween hissan people an' danger. Wesa fighten the maccaneeks with or
without hepp. Theysa no other choice for ussan."
Brandes leaned back against one of the saplings that formed the shelter. "If I
ever get my hands on the Neimoidians responsible for all this, I'll – I'll
-- well, I don't know what I'll do, but they won't enjoy it."
"Shoot thems?" Tarpals suggested.
"I've never handled a gun before," Brandes confessed. "I'm not sure
I'd be able to shoot anyone."
The Gungan began rattling off the most violent Bassic words he could
remember. "Punch? Slap, kick, bite –
"Slap!" Brandes interrupted him. "That sounds good. I could manage that.
If I ever get my hands on them, I'll slap them silly!" Then she laughed
wearily. "Although that doesn't seem likely right now, does it?"
"Sound liken good plan," Tarpals told her. "Wesa mekk sure yousa gett
yoursa chance. My will hold them for yousa."
"It's a deal, Captain!" Brandes grinned in the darkness. "You hold them
and I'll slap them. It will be the first joint human/Gungan project in
Naboo's history."
~*~*~*~*~
At the same time that Tarpals's command was finishing their afternoon
practices and the evening rain began to fall, four Gungans crouched at the edge
of the treeline and scanned the open meadow that lay between them and Splitrock
Lake. The lake was actually a small one; most of the shoreline was visible from
their position. Having learned during the initial attacks on their cities that
the maccaneeks rode flying machines, the Gungans peered at the sky as
well as the meadow. The only movement was the ripple of tall grass in the
breeze.
"All right," said Herns, rising to his feet. "Let's go."
They mounted the pair of kaadu and two falumpasets chosen to make
the trip, and urged the animals out into the meadow. Herns led the way, followed
by Jenais, then Kimma, with Rell Iss bringing up the rear. The young Gungan kept
twisting around to look over his shoulder, nervously watching for any signs of
the maccaneeks or their vehicles.
Rell Iss had made the trip to Splitrock only once, several seasons ago when he
was just beginning his training as the Captain's aide. Splitrock was outside
the normal Patrol routes, too far from the swamps to be used for anything other
than survival training. Career military personnel were expected to be familiar
with the plants and animals in different habitats, but soldiers only trained
near Splitrock every few years, at the discretion of the Grand Army's
generals.
The area was open and exposed; the Naaboo had long ago claimed the
grasslands and plateaus of the planet, and the Gungans felt more comfortable
amid the wooded areas and the swamps.
Splitrock itself was a rocky spire in the midst of the grassland, a prominent
landmark in a place of gently rolling hills and fields. Trees and brush grew
around the base of the small mountain; the lake waters lapped around three
quarters of the mountain rock. Rell Iss knew that the waystation had been dug
under the lake's bank. The entrance was somewhere along the lake's shore
opposite the mountain, camouflaged with plants and stones, and accessible only
by swimming. A tunnel would lead into the waystation, opening out into a small
underground pool, with a dirt floor on one side. There the supplies would be
stacked in special containers (ironically enough, traded from the Naaboo)
to keep out any wildlife that might use the waystation as shelter.
All four riders kept their mounts moving at a brisk pace. Evening was fast
approaching; the Gungans planned to reach the outpost before full sunset, stay
overnight to sort the supplies and ride back in the morning under the cover of
the fog.
Like their human counterparts, Gungans relied heavily on their senses of sight,
but sound and smell were more important to them than to a human. Even with eyes
closed, most Gungans could tell their family members apart by personal scent and
the rhythm of their breathing. Now all four riders used sight, scent and sound
to warn them of danger.
The sun had sunk two fingers-width lower in the sky when Rell Iss noticed a low
hum; for a while it sounded like the voices of insects. Then the humming
intensified. Glances among all four Gungans showed that they had all heard it,
and they cast about, searching for the source. At the front of the line, Herns
reined in his mount, and the others did the same. Rell Iss hunched down in his
saddle, peering around him.
"There!" Jenais pointed toward Splitrock itself. Two shapes were rocketing
toward them, skimming over the grass. Sunlight glinted off metal.
"Maccaneeks!" Herns snarled. He hauled back on the reins, jerking the
falumpaset's head around. "Back to the woods! Ride hard!" A moment
later all four animals were galloping for the shelter of the woodlands. The
swift kaadu pulled away from the two larger falumpasets; risking a
glance over his shoulder, Rell Iss saw the maccaneeks gaining on them.
The droids were riding flying machines, skimming the terrain the Gungans were
forced to ride over.
The grass beside Rell Iss exploded, flaming despite the dampness. His kaadu
squealed and stumbled to one side. Kimma Nril's kaadu thundered past.
Kimma turned in the saddle, reined in her mount, and galloped back past Rell Iss
toward the droids, weapon ready. Rell Iss's kaadu regained its balance
and leaped forward. A minute later, Kimma had caught up with him. "My
ammunition's gone!" she said. "But there's two less of the maccaneeks
now!" They rode on together.
More shots ignited the ground as the two riders fled. Behind them, Herns and
Jenais could hear the humming turn into harsh whines as the maccaneeks
gained on them. Each rider twisted to glance over his shoulder at the pursuing
machines.
Jenais's mount pulled alongside Herns's. "We'll never make it!" the
older patrol rider shouted.
"Then we turn and fight!" Herns shouted back. Jenais shook his head.
"That would mean both of us captured! No good!" Jenais's atlatl, a
sling-like weapon used to throw the smallest of the buumas, was in his
free hand. "We need to get clear, warn the others. The maccaneeks found
us by luck – they can't know about the outpost. You can make a second try
later. But for now – here!" He stood up in the saddle, and hauled back on
the reins. As the falumpaset broke stride and almost fell, he threw his
leg over the animal's back and dove from the saddle. He rolled to absorb the
force of the leap. Scrambling to his feet, he slapped the falumpaset's
rump with the atlatl. The animal bellowed and plunged forward,
shouldering Herns's mount. Herns grabbed for the bridle. Before he could
react, Jenais was sprinting toward the maccaneeks, atlatl in one hand and
a buuma in the other. Whirling the atlatl over his head, he flung
the buuma at the closest of the pursing droids. The energy ball exploded
into blue lightning that raced across the droid's body. The droid slumped; its
vehicle plowed into the ground and lay in a twisted heap. Its companion
advanced, undeterred.
"Go!" cried Jenais. "There are more on the way! I'll hold them as long
as I can!" He turned away and ran toward the second maccaneek. In the
distance, Herns could see four more approaching. The second droid fired past
Jenais and both falumpasets bugled, jostling one another. Teeth bared in
defiance, Herns turned in the saddle and urged his mount forward, galloping
toward the forest in the distance, leading the second animal.
Kimma and Rell Iss met him at the edge of the forest. "What are you doing?!"
Herns snarled. "Ride on!"
"We can't!" Kimma insisted. "We might lead the maccaneeks right
to the others!"
"Then we make sure none are following," Herns said. He pulled the falumpaset's
head around and trotted the animal back to the area just inside the treeline.
Like the rest of his group, his ammunition was limited. Herns loaded one of his
two remaining buumas into his atlatl and waited.
A second maccaneek had caught up with the first. Herns aimed for the lead
droid and threw. Blue fire raced across the metal body as the droid seized up
and crashed its vehicle into the grass. Herns's second shot missed; the maccaneek
roared toward him as he turned the falumpaset and bolted into the trees. Laser
fire followed him into the woods.
Herns shouted to his companions. "Kimma! Rell Iss! It's behind me! Go!"
"Lead it past me!" Kimma told him. She reached up to grasp the branches of a
tree and pulled herself out of the saddle. Rell Iss caught the kaadu's
reins. Herns turned the falumpaset and trotted it to the edge of the
forest. "Get away from here!" Kimma warned Rell Iss. A distraught look on
his face, Rell Iss rode off into the forest; a short distance away, he urged his
mount into a crouching position, pulling the second animal down with them. They
waited. Kimma positioned herself against the tree's trunk.
The second maccaneek glided down the hill to the edge of the forest.
"Halt!" it told Herns in a monotone. "Surrender your weapons, and
dismount, and you will not be harmed."
Herns hissed at it. Then he wheeled his mount and plunged into the brush. The
droid flew after them. The falumpaset crashed through the brush, leading
the droid away from its companions and toward Kimma's position. Herns rode
past the tree, whooping.
The droid swooped in, firing. Kimma Nril pelted the length of the branch and
leaped, arms wrapping around the droid. Her weighed dragged the maccaneek
from its STAP, which careened into a tree. Kimma and the droid crashed to the
ground together; only the Gungan finally rose to her feet, leaving the rather
twisted body of the maccaneek on the ground. Kimma staggered a couple of
steps, teeth clenched, and sank to her knees.
"Everything I own feels bruised," she gasped as Herns reined in his mount in
front of her.
"Can you ride?" Herns was staring past her at the splotches of light marking
the edge of the forest.
"I – I think so," she replied.
"Caadrey!" Herns shouted. "Bring both kaadu! We need to get
out of here!"
Kimma dragged herself into the saddle and signaled the animal to stand. She
clutched the saddle horn in one hand and the reins in the other. All three
Gungans could hear the humming of approaching droids.
"Let's go," Herns ordered.
Rell Iss stared at the meadow, haillu and eyestalks drooping. "But –
Jenais –"
"We can't do anything for him," Herns replied. "Unless we want to be
captured as well." He pulled the reins of the second falumpaset. "We
need to go. Now!" Kicking his mount's flanks, he led the way deeper into the
forest. Kimma clucked weakly to her mount and followed; Rell Iss brought up the
rear, head bowed.
