We got up early the next morning, Glen and I. I got up, washed a bit, and pulled on my loincloth. Glen pulled on his suit, and saw my grin.

“What?”

“You’ll regret it.”

“The suit?”

“Yeah,” I said. I went over to the door and opened it, showing Glen the pouring rain of early morning.

He looked down at his suit. It was, actually, kind of waterproof. But rain would get in the neck, and it would trickle down his back, and then it would…

“Do you have a spare?” he asked me, pulling his suit off.

—

“This is so bizarre,” he said, as we climbed up our third tree and he looked down at his loin cloth for the seventh time. “Does it always rain here?”

“Pretty much. I love it.”

“You, my friend, are wierd.”

“Here’s the first blind,” I said. “The first housing is just up here.”

I was impressed, actually, that when we got within about a quarter click I noticed a Riyahaln, still in his stupid suit, but a reasonably well placed lookout position, looking out… probably for enemy. I spotted him, first, of course. Stupid suit. Who wears white in the jungle?

He did see us, eventually, and I saw him turn and yell backwards toward where I knew the housing was. Soon we had another Riyahaln climbing down the tree toward us.

“How is it going?” I asked the Riyalan.

“Miserable,” he said. “Does it rain all the time?’

“Almost,” I said.

“Insha’Allah,” he said. “We sill survive. Where are the enemy?”

“On the floor of the jungle,” I said. “They hate climbing. They don’t even like looking up.”

“Allah be praised for small mercies,” he said. “So we hunt them from here?”

“Or lower, if you dare.”

“If we dare? We shall descend to the very depths to slay aliens.”

Glen laughed. “The way it is raining it seems you are already at the ‘very depths’.”

The Riyalahn laughed. Apparently this was his kind of humor.

“Let us show you the blinds,” I said.

—

I took Glen, next to the housing of my wise friend. There, too, we saw a lookout. This one, however, was dressed only in some sort of cloth wrapped around his underwear area. He, too, didn’t see us until long after I saw him. But I suppose it took a while to see things in the jungle.

“Greetings,” I said, coming up to the housing where I had left my friend.

“Greetings,” he said. He was alone in the housing.

“Where are your compatriots?” I asked.

“Two are out watching, one is out gathering food, and gathering the layout of the land.”

“And you?”

“I am meditating on the nature of life.”

Glenn laughed, but I didn’t get it. “Are you ready to get the materials that we talked about yesterday?”

“Certainly,” he said, leveraging himself up. He, too, was wearing this diaper like thing. “First,” he said, “can we get me, get us, some of those clothings you are wearing? Running around in my underwear is embarrassing.”

“So you are both from New Geneva?” the Riyalan asked, after we had navigated two trees down and one branch over.

“Yes,” Glenn said, but I said, “But I was born in CF. I’ve never been to New Geneva.”

“It must be hard,” he said.

“What?”

“Not knowing your home.”

“My home? My home is where my… my family is.”

“Ah, a ‘CF’ kid. I have read psychological profiles of children like you. I’m sorry,” he said, seeing my wounded look, “young men, and women, like you. Fascinating.”

“A Riyalan? Reading ‘psychological profiles’?”

“Know your enemy,” he said, and I glanced at him, trying to figure out if he meant it or if it was a bizarre joke.

“What is your name, anyway?” Glen asked. “I’m Glen, and this is Carl.”

“Hikmah,” the boy said.

“There one is,” I said.

“Ah… that is the tree?”

“Yes,” I said. He and Glen watched me as I sliced off a section of bark.

“If you would, four,” Hikmah said.

I carved off another three more and he wrapped them around his shoulders. “Now we need to get the dye,” I said.

“Dye?” Glen said.

“For the camouflage,” I said. “Wouldn’t you like to look like me?”

Glen laughed, “Not willingly would I mar myself so.”

The Rihalan looked at us, an Glen laughed again. “I’m not sure I need it,” he clarified. “Say, I have a question if you don’t mind.”

“Yes?” Hikmah said.

“How come those others do what you say?” It isn’t like you are higher ranked or anything, is it? I’ve noticed it before, especially when you all are in small groups.”

“Ah. No. No ‘rank’, per se. Not of the military sense. But perhaps ‘rank’ of another type.”
“You see, my friends, each of us, back on my planet, has our own different kind of rank… who our parents are, and what they do. One of my ‘friends’ here, is the son of a blacksmith. Another is the son of a small farmer. The third, his father deals in some drugs… the medicinal kind.”

“My father, on the other hand, is a very important merchant.”

“So… they just respect you for that?”

“In part but… you see, when we fight together, especially when, as you say, we are working in a small group, we become ‘blood brothers’. This relationship lasts for the rest of our life.”

“They know that, especially if they serve well here, with me, for the rest of their lives we will have ‘a relationship’.”

He saw our confused looks. “I don’t think this exists among you pagans,” he said, with a grin. “But amongst us, where relationship exists, both members gain from it. Obviously, since my father is rich and powerful, they stand to gain more than I will. If we live, and I return, then we will buy from the one’s farm, use the one’s blacksmith shop, etc. And then, when one of them has a need… a daughter that needs a dowry, a son that may need an apprenticeship. Their association with me will improve their lives… assuming that we survive, and that they please me. Among us, powerful connections are of powerful importance.”

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