“An apt characterization,” agreed Zhveeaor-Captain. “It is bordered on the north by the Grosse Felsbank, a mostly sheer escarpment that climbs rapidly to two thousand meters above sea level, with a few alpine spurs set further back in massif-groupings. The southern extent of the Susser Tal is bordered by a slowly rising upland, which reaches almost six hundred meters above sea level. It is neither very steep, nor very high, but more than enough to make the valley resemble a trench between two highlands.”
Freay’ysh-Administrator traced the swampy trench that was the floor of the Susser Tal back to its narrowing, dead-ended eastern terminus. “A strange place to choose as a refuge. Despite its advantages, the humans have no way out. Unless they can get over these southern hills.”
Zhveeaor-Captain shook his head. “Actually, the southern highland is more impassable than the Grosse Felsbank. It is very jagged and barren, even though the average per-kilometer elevation increase is not so great.”
“A strange formation.”
“Not so strange, Freay’ysh-Administrator, when its origins are taken into account: it lies right along a tectonic contact front. These low jagged hills-like teeth sprung from other teeth-follow along the fault line where the southwestern plate is breaking, buckling, and snapping up through the surface of the ground. Made more treacherous by winter ice-cleaving and wind erosion, even the locals deem these highlands impassable except to professional mountaineers.”
“And yet the valley itself has a surprisingly temperate climate, does it not?”
Zhveeaor-Captain looked sidelong at his superior. “I would say that its climate is much more than merely temperate, Freay’ysh-Administrator. It is punishing. At this time of the year, the prevailing temperatures are in the high twenties and low thirties centigrade. The air is almost perpetually at one-hundred-percent humidity, with some rather unusual supersaturation effects reported. The prevailing biome is therefore a half swamp, half jungle microecology.”
“But certainly, this must change in winter?”
“Not as much as one might expect, Freay’ysh-Administrator. Because it lies along an active tectonic faultline, the valley is riddled with hot springs. These factors, in combination with a slight elevation of ambient temperature from widespread vegetable decay, makes snowfall extremely rare. Also, the prevailing winter winds from the Grosse Felsbank tend to shoot straight over the valley without depositing much moisture. It is only seven kilometers across at its widest point.”
“How strange.”
“Yes, strange and uninviting. In addition to the stink of dying vegetation, the sulfur-reek from the springs is as pervasive as the local flora is pungent. I doubt we will have much luck sorting out human scents in that environment. Furthermore, the tree cover makes conventional aerial observation almost useless, and the attempt to compensate with thermal imaging is only effective picking out biosigns that are fairly distant from the heat-blooms of the hot springs.”
Freay’ysh-Administrator twitched his ruff, vexed at the implicit mystery: “Then it is strange that the human resistance has not made use of it before now. In many ways, it is an ideal hiding spot.”
“Yes, Freay’ysh-Administrator, but as you observed at the outset, it is also a cul-de-sac. Except for a handful of narrow, forbidding passes through the Grosse Felsbank, the only way out is also the only way in. Which is quite easy for us to patrol and hold.”
“Could they not exfiltrate through the northern passes you mention?”
“Not swiftly enough to be tactically feasible. The Grosse Felsbank cannot be navigated by ground vehicles, and we would detect any aerial movement with ease. For a human on foot, it is almost a two-month trek through the mountains to the great northern plateau, where there are few settlements, and to date, no resistance activity or suspected contacts.”
Freay’ysh-Administrator gave the one-shouldered toss that was the kzin equivalent of a human shrug. “This cesspool isn’t in practical range of any useful targets for them, anyhow. And not a lot of local support, either. If I remember correctly, wasn’t the valley used as a compound for various social outcasts?”
“There is a small community of locals, although they are not exiles so much as they are separatists.”
“Political antagonists of the human state?” Freay’ysh-Administrator felt the glimmerings of an advantage. If the indigenous population of the region disliked the human authorities, perhaps he could entice them to-
“Not political antagonism,” Zhveeaor-Captain said, and the administrator felt his hopes deflate. “Cultural and class disaffection.”
“Explain.”
“Before our arrival, all the human settlers avoided this region except for a few Hinterlanders, as they were called: people who preferred to dwell at the far fringes of the larger communities. Many of them had radically different religious beliefs and family structures; others felt alienated by the majority of the human settlement groups.”
“What? Why?”
“They were from different cultures.”
“What do you mean, different cultures?”
“Evidently, Freay’ysh-Administrator, the homeworld environment of the humans was once extremely heterogeneous in terms of language, traditions, philosophies, economies, ethnicities.”
“Logicaclass="underline" it explains their chaotic multi-focal society today. So: how did these self-imposed exiles survive? Hunting? I seem to recall that there are some excellent, and quite dangerous, prey animals in the swamps, no?”
“There are. The scant reports we have indicate that the locals rely heavily upon the meat of those creatures for their own protein intake. But this was not the basis of their external trade. They subsisted on collecting biobounties.”
“On collecting what?”
“Biobounties, Freay’ysh-Administrator. It was discovered that the swamps and jungles of the valley were rich in rare plants and insects prized for the unique compounds they contain. In particular, many of these substances proved to be very useful to the pharmaceutical corporations that were attempting to produce new, improved anti-senescence formulations.”
“Which we have largely suspended. So how have the Susser Tal’s inhabitants survived since we occupied Wunderland?”
“Poorly, Freay’ysh-Administrator. And we only know this because there is still some rare contact between the swamp-dwellers and distant relatives they have in the villages around Neue Ingolstadt.”
The administrator nodded at the dataslate, signaling that he no longer needed its displays. “So, Zhveeaor-Captain: how many companies do you think it will take to find the human lickers-of-feces and root them out?”
Zhveeaor-Captain let his tongue wash slowly over his nose: his statement was to be understood as a carefully considered opinion. “Freay’ysh-Administrator, I think that two battalions might be enough.”
Freay’ysh-Administrator stared at his subordinate.
Who twitched one shoulder slightly: “Maybe three.”
“So just where are these swamprats you were talking about, Smith?” Gunnar spat. “We’ve been slogging through this shithole for two days and haven’t seen a single-”
“They call themselves Sumpfrunners. And as for where they are-” Smith gestured to the quagmires through which they were slowly wending their way “-they’ve been paralleling us for a while now. Probably about three hours.”
“Four, actually.” The voice seemed to emerge from a plant that looked like an upward-writhing mix of Spanish moss and cactus. A spare, sallow man of middle years wriggled out of what had looked like the solid folds of the cactus trunk. Dressed in much-patched overalls, spattered in swamp muck, and his hair a receding skullcap kept slick by humidity and infrequent washing, he was not a particularly welcoming sight. His attitude seemed a match for his appearance: dour and uncongenial. “Seems like you drylanders are a lang wegs from home. Nichts for y’all here.” He spat with meticulous care and deliberation atop Gunnar’s own spattering of saliva.