Mellisa RIP

by James (Ben) Mielke

A moonlit rendezvous in the middle of the sandstone hills:

"Are you Sikar?"

"That's me. This is my brother Grube, that's Christina and Chilperic."

"I'm Rosicot. These guys are Hildy, Bobol, and Leon."

"Corman tell you the plan?"

"We go to the mountains and kill somebody, right? Some crazy woman!"

"Basically. She's a notorious criminal; been a fugitive for years. Attacked your employer here-right in these hills."

"The Company has no patience for opposition," Rosicot said with a smile. "My boys are experts at this kind of thing."

"I appreciate professionalism. People who know how to get the job finished with no mess."

"We're the clean-up team," Leon chuckled.

"She thinks she's hiding from us, but I figured out her location-we found a trail in the foothills when we were looking for your runaways. It leads to a pass-she's on the other side in a little alpine basin. It's an easy trap, we have enough people to encircle her."

"Good deal. Lead the way."


Sikar took them northeast from the road, following the crest of the sandstone hills then on toward the lowest ridge of foothills. The further side overlooked the reservoir; they climbed a stairstep of cliffs rimming the water. Approaching the upper end of the lake their path intersected the trail to Mellisa's camp.

Sikar was bothered:

"There has been a lot of traffic here. I went this way just a few weeks ago and the trail was hard to find, now look at it." He gestured at a rutted track of dusty gravel.

"Looks busy, all right," Leon agreed. "What's going on?"

"Something sneaky. We'd better move cautiously-stay off of the trail. Keep close-let's spy on it, we want to know. Go slow and quiet."

Rosicot said, "We can't stay out on the trail too long. Security at the farm is thin. Corman only gave us three weeks."



They moved on, keeping to the brush and boulders, watching for trail traffic. Midnight passed, the summer star set and a crescent of blue moon rose. A party of hikers came up the trail, tromping along briskly with no effort at quiet or concealment and unaware of being watched, unaware of the gun barrels tracking their passage.

Daylight came and they broke for a cold meal and a few hours of rest, concealed behind a craggy outcrop.



Hidalgo (Hildy) Johnson grew up singing and studying music; he grew up tall, barrel chested and bass. An ear for harmony and sound-in-space encouraged him toward arranging and conducting. He majored in band leadership in college and after graduating he took a job at another college as bandmaster.

The new college was on the planet Dayron, a place he had never heard of, and turned out to be a regimented military academy behind an armed stockade; and Dayron was a world about to degenerate into civil war. The academy was a fortress that anchored numerous battles and skirmishes-three different armed factions seized it and held it. The final group needed funds for fresh arms and brokered a deal with a privateer-the academy's civilian staff in exchange for ten tons of ammunition.

Hildy became a slave traded in on-line auction to a private security corporation; a subsidiary of Glatz Enterprises. That was many years ago...


Chilperic, no last name, didn't sleep, even though he was exhausted. He pretended to sleep and watched his wife, Christina Strachwits. She was on sentry with Grube and he didn't want to leave the two alone. He lay with his head on his pack looking through slit-eyes. For all of his jealous suspicions they behaved with perfect innocence, mostly sitting back to back atop a rock and making a circuit patrol every half-hour; they didn't talk.

He was on the next watch and Christina relieved him, taking his resting spot; Grube lay down next to Sikar, ten yards away.

Bobol joined him for sentry, they walked the perimeter of the camp and then sat on the rock facing oppositely.

Chilperic whispered, "Think that traffic's about another break-out?"

"What else? After one success, these things escalate."

"Until they get stopped."

"That's why we are here. This target must be a leader-Corman thinks."

"She's a psycho."

"Most great leaders are. Leaders have followers, and there's a lot of people using that trail. This job may not be a cinch."

"I'm ready for a fight."

Bobol sighed. "I like quiet work."

Leon sat up and came over. He whispered so softly they had to lean in toward him. "I can hear you assholes a quarter-mile away! Shut the fuck up!"


They moved by day after observing the pattern of the other trail users: Always in packs, never moving with stealth, two or three groups each day-equally divided between going uphill and down; they had newly established wayside camps; they were easy to spot, easier to evade. The assassins covered their point and rear with the fastest runners-Grube, Bobol, Christina, and Leon-and they only left the trail to skirt the camps. At night they sent spies to creep up to the edge of the campfire glow; Bobol was the quietest and had the sharpest ears. He learned the magnitude of Actionist plans against the farm.


A full red moon flickered through the breezy trees and stars winked. Leon sat with Rosicot on sentry and holding a conference.

"...This shit is too big." Leon whispered into Rosicot's ear. "What if we do the job here but there's no farm to go back to? Someone ought to go down there and raise the alert."

"Farm won't stand a direct attack-there ain't enough of us."

"Fucker had better stand. We got nowhere to go."

"These people will cut our throats. Look what they did to Merlo."

Leon was appalled that somebody would shoot a slave driver. "In the back."

"You better go warn the farm. I don't trust either of the others on the trail alone."

"Will they stand in a fight?"

"They're too chickenshit to cross me; they want to live."

"I don't like Bobol, fucker's too quiet, always watching. What's he looking at?"

"He's got no balls, wants to use yours."

"Weirdo, I wouldn't mind if he didn't make it back."

"We need every man we got down there. Bobol can handle a close fight, when he's by himself and starts thinking, I worry."

Chilperic woke and joined them. "Where's my wife?" he whispered into Rosicot's ear.

"Scouting ahead with Grube."

"When did they go out?"

"Couple hours ago. Should be back soon."

"You send them out together?"

"Yup."

"I don't want that asshole around my wife!"

"You've been whining about him all week. That's your problem, dude. Take care of it yourself-at home, not here."

"I'll kick his ass!" Rosicot's fist slammed Chilperic's solar plexus and cut off the remark. He fell to his knees and Rosicot stood over him.

He squatted and whispered into Chilperic's ear. "Save that shit for back in town. Out here, Grube is your brother, on your team, giving you cover. On this squad, we all love each other. Right?"

Chilperic nodded, his right hand was holding his belly. With his left he steadied off of the ground and regained his feet.

Morning light was cloaking the stars; Christina and Grube came into the camp together, several feet apart. Chilperic launched for Grube and Rosicot's heel caught his butt in a bullseye.

Chilperic was airborne for a second and landed on his face at Grube's toes.

Christina rushed at Rosicot. He turned and slapped her left cheek so hard she spun away in a confused spiral.

Sikar woke and stood up. "Shut up!" he said aloud. Then he whispered, "What is going on?"

Rosicot spat out, "Your team are a bunch of amateurs! Those two," he pointed at Chilperic and Christina, "will kill us. Your brother's all right, but them-they should go home and have tea. Leave the serious work for us grown-ups."

Chilperic was rising again and turned toward Rosicot.

The off-worlder drew his pistol, cocked it and leveled it at the colonist's heart. Rosicot wasn't whispering any more. "This mission is now under my control." Leon stood at his side with a hand resting on the butt of a holstered gun. Hildy and Bobol woke and sat up, making sure that their own weapons were within reach.

"Wait!" Sikar shouted. "This is crazy! We came here to kill Mellisa Shannon, not each other. We're even getting close-two more days hike at most. Let's focus on the job."

"I can't work with those two," Rosicot said.

"They can go back-they won't betray us."

The gun still aimed for Chilperic's breast. "Okay-go on, get your shit and leave, take your damn wife-women don't belong on an operation, this bullshit happens every time."

Wordlessly, Christina and Chilperic went to their bed site, rolled up their gear and shouldered it. They disappeared into the darkness.

Rosicot lowered his gun, he faced Sikar and Grube. "We gonna be okay?"

"Let's do the job," Sikar said. Grube nodded, frowned at the ground for a second, then looked up with a nonchalant half-smile on.

"Good. Let's have breakfast. After we eat Leon is going down too-we need to warn the farm about what we've heard."

"We'll only have five people."

"We'll get things done."


They were in alpine country, the forest canopy was more sparse, the trees were thinner, shorter, and the trail was beaten into the peaty soil of a tundra meadow miles in length. The assassins moved by night, using the cover of a gullied creek notched into the valley floor and shrouded by brush. They skulked onward, ducking from tree shadow to boulder to eroded bank. At daybreak they made camp up in a hanging valley, concealed by a wall of moraine. The pass was visible, one more leg up the trail.


Nobody intends to sleep on watch, but they do. A sharp poke in the shoulder woke Sikar. Flustered at being caught napping by Corman's men he reached for his gun before he looked up. The gun wasn't at his side, and when he did turn he looked directly into its barrel.

"Hey, buddy," Peter said. "We need to talk."

The camp was full of Homesteaders, eight of them, and Leon. Four carried crossbows, four had guns, freshly taken from Sikar's party. Rosicot made a mistake, lunging for the gun in Marcus's hand. The gun in Brenda's hand fired and he fell dead.

They led Sikar's party back down to the valley floor, scrambling over a boulder field of moraine, rocks clinking and clattering away underfoot. When they reached solid earth and hit the trail, Grube, the Townies champion runner, bolted downhill.

Brenda raised her gun, Marcus stepped in front of her with his hands up towards her. "Don't shoot a colonist!"

"He's a jerk!"

"He's a colonist."

She lowered the weapon. Grube was already far out of range.


They escorted the remnants of Sikar's party over the pass and down into the camp, arriving at sunset. One of the stone-walled cabins was jail.  Twice during the night Sikar tried to sneak out but alert sentries caught him both times.

Two Homesteaders brought more food in the morning and returned an hour later. They led the prisoners to a garden fragrant with herbs; frostbitten grape and berry vines were scarlet and golden.

Mellisa was waiting, sitting on the clover lawn with Jody beside her. She played her flute, softly; Jody harmonized with his deep rumble of a voice. They stopped when the three men entered the space. She addressed them, "Welcome, it's good to see you. Please sit down." Looking at the prisoner's escort, she said, "Leave us."

Sikar advanced menacingly toward the physician. Jody rose to intervene and Sikar swung at him, missing, the momentum throwing him off balance. One of Corman's men grabbed Sikar from behind, pinning his arms. "Sit down, like she said!"

Beaten, Sikar complied.

"Thank you," she said to the man. "What's your name?"

"Hildy." He gestured to the other man, "He's Bobol."

"A pleasure to meet you Hildy, Bobol. I'm Mel. You are a long ways away from your masters. You don't have to go back if you don't want to."

"I figured that," Hildy said. "I'm not going back."

"Me neither."

She looked at Sikar. He was silent, with eyes full of murderous rage. "I'm sorry it comes to this. Can't we find peace? I don't hate you. I don't even oppose you. I just want to live a normal life. I will even say that I am sorry I attacked Mr. Glatz-nothing good has come of it."

"You're still a criminal!"

Mellisa shrugged. "I suppose I am, if that's the quality you want to see. Like the diamond in my nose, I have many facets. What would you do with me even if we could organize a court? Build a jail for me? Is that the first community institution we want?"

"If that's what it takes to establish order, yes, it is."

"My crime isn't even the worst to happen. And you work with slave masters from off world against your fellow colonist. There's a fundamental divide between us I don't know how to bridge-communication fails." She opened a shoulder bag and took five flasks of the purple drug from within. "If you will join me in an experiment there may be a new mode of communication. Do you sing?"

"What is this?"

"I'm not positive yet, but I believe it's the original occupant of Cardomon. I want it to mediate. Again, I ask, do you sing?"

"A little-why?"

"It likes to sing, it's not very good but with practice!"

"What likes to sing?"

"Cardomon." She offered one of the flasks to him.

He took it and held it up in the sunlight. "You want me to take this? It's poison."

"I won't force you. I take it, Jody takes it, others. It's safe enough."

"And what happened to Paul?"

"A misunderstanding, I think. A failure of recognition, on both sides."

He stared at her, "You're crazy."

She shrugged, "So are you. Do you want this to keep going on? You chasing and me running until one of us drops? Take this chance with me; let's meet through the fungus. It works."

"What happens?"

"Nothing much. You're body sleeps but you talk and sing, and there's the presence of Cardomon, it talks with you."

Jody said, "It's very pleasant, and restful. It likes to know about you, you'll go on for hours."

"I'd like to try," Hildy said.

"I was hoping you would, that's why I brought enough for all. Bobol?"

"Sure."

She handed the flasks around. "Sikar?"

"All right. I can take it." He opened the flask and gulped the contents down. Hildy, Jody and Bobol all did the same. Mellisa had a palette for the fluid and savored it, sipping lightly, breathing the earthy bouquet.

She took up her flute and played. Jody harmonized and Hildy joined him. Bobol was silent, Sikar hummed lightly and the tension flowed visibly from his body. He lay down on his side in front of Mellisa, watching her intently; their eyes locked. Jody and Hildy were harmonizing on a personal level, they stopped singing and sat together, kissing and hugging with passion. Bobol lay down, closing his eyes.

Mellisa lay down with Sikar and embraced him. They kissed like lovers and held tightly. Moments later the filaments spread over everybody and the cilia grew out, enveloping them all, they were still.

It liked to watch, and so did Bobol, so It looked through his mind. In the dream space the two couples continued to make love and It watched and learned and grew curious. It egged the lovers on, pushing them past endurance, suggesting moves and positions, through climax after orgasm after climax, and again and again.

At last, It was satisfied and let them stop.

It looked at Sikar, asked Its favorite question: "Who are you?"

Surrounded by love, he resisted. Fleeting memories fought through a fog. Images of safety: tidy homes, enveloping families, regulated schools, ordered gardens, stern policemen, and images of fear: bloody murderers, rampaging rioters, brazen thieves, and death, death, death.

Why fear death? I know its time and make it easy for you, when you are ready, you come to me, and I don't let it hurt you.

Mellisa spoke: We who live, fear the pain of loss. She thought of her feelings for Amelia, Paul, Ediza, of the hurt and loss to families and friends. Of the fear of loneliness after loss. Of tragedy.

I cause that?

It is not your nature, it is ours.

I'm sorry.    This man fears too much. Resisting me will kill him.

I know.

Can you reach him?

I'll try.

She went to Sikar, sat with him. He was shaking and crying, tears came to her eyes, empathizing. She gave him a comforting hug, like a mother to a child with a nightmare. They shook from the force of his sobbing and like a fog rising from the ground around them, they faded out.


Jody woke up in Hildy's arms. "Hello, this is unexpected. I like it."

Hildy snuggled and kissed him. "A pleasure to meet you, too. But what happened?"

"I don't know. Let me ask." He broke the embrace to turn and look around. "Doc?"

She wasn't there, and neither was Sikar. Their clothing lay on the clover, intimately entangled, purple dust spilling out, strewing across the lawn.