Pietas narrowed his eyes. "Ghost, don't make me eat you."
"Yeah? I got two words for you, Ultra. Bring. Salt." He stood and offered his hand. "Come on, amigo. I'll douse the fire while you get dressed."
Pietas gripped it and forced himself to stand. His legs hurt and it took a full minute for him to catch his breath. Did mortals put up with this kind of pain on a daily basis? They must be stronger than he ever imagined.
Six had the courtesy to remain silent about how badly Pietas limped, and instead, worked on putting out the campfire.
Once he'd brushed off the dirt on his legs, Pietas dressed and then helped Six clean up. Though it was still morning, the day darkened while they were finishing. By the time they reached camp, the sun was gone.
At first, Pietas thought it might be more birds, but then he spied what had sent the birds fleeing.
Black clouds roiled. Thunder boomed. The sky went white with lightning.
In the north, the mother of all thunderstorms rolled over the horizon.
Chapter Twenty
"Nothing quickens your step like big trouble gaining on you."
His father's favorite quote flew into Pietas's mind as he grabbed their meager belongings. He and Six had nothing but necessities. The ghost kept their survival backpack ready to go at a moment's notice. While Pietas stored their rolled blankets within a satchel, Six began unfastening the parachute cloth from the lone tree where it was tied. The wind ripped it from his hands. It sailed past Pietas, but he grabbed it and held on until the ghost could retrieve it. Together, they made short work of stuffing it into its own pack.
Throughout the preparation to run for cover, Six worked with as much efficiency as any of Pietas's soldiers. He gathered the critical supplies and abandoned anything else. Precious little was left behind. A collapsible water container, full of water. The leftover fish they'd caught. Up the hill, the pod in which Pietas had been imprisoned.
He hoped that blew into kingdom come.
Deciding where to run... That was the hard part. As part of his healing, Pietas had walked all the flat land around them. Their camp sat on a plain near the creek.
Trees surrounded them--good lightning attractors. Boulders near the creek--conductors of electricity. No deep caves nearby--shallow ones would be worse than being in the open. The flat ground had few dips or gullies.
The wind howled. Barefoot, dressed in Six's cast offs, Pietas turned his back to the gale. The raw ends of his hair whipped into his face, stinging his cheeks.
The ghost tapped him, motioned south and started walking.
Pietas followed.
The ground rose and on the other side, a deeper area harbored shrubs and minor depressions. Six sprinted toward a group of bushes and stowed their survival backpack beneath them. He looped a cord around one bush, securing the pack.
Pietas headed for a low-lying area and crouched in it. Strapped to his back were the reflective blankets in their pack.
Six finished tying off the backpack and came to Pietas. He motioned for him to stand and though his mouth moved, the wind howled too hard to hear him.
When Pietas stood, Six opened a small pouch. He unfolded a special-ops-green poncho and then reached up and slipped it over Pietas's head. Pointing to him, Six mouthed words.
Pietas got the gist of it. He needed it more than Six did. It galled him how true that was.
Six made unreadable gestures.
In the gale, Pietas staggered sideways a step.
Six held onto him and repeated the gestures.
Finally, Pietas caught the meaning. He should keep his feet on the pack of blankets. It wouldn't provide much insulation in case of a strike, but it would provide some.
Pietas would have ordered any soldier in his unit to do the same. Why hadn't he thought of it? He gave a thumbs-up.
Six ran to a shallow area a stone's throw away, put down the parachute pack and then crouched atop it. He gave Pietas a thumbs-up.
A few small drops of rain pattered onto the ground and then larger ones. Thunder crashed and rolled in the sky. Lightning struck, with no time between. Overhead, the storm screamed its cold menace.
His neck and back stung as harder drops of water hit and then small hailstones. Larger hail beat him, turning the ground white. He set his feet wider apart, but still had to work at keeping himself balanced in a crouch, making himself as small a target for lightning as possible.
Near him, Six wobbled, braced a hand against the ground and then yanked it back. Like Pietas, he held the position while the storm raged.
The darkness deepened until he could no longer see Six.
Hail stung everywhere it touched. Bigger hailstones pelted his back. Pietas cringed from the pain. One slashed his ear, stinging it through the poncho. They knocked him in the head, making his ears ring.
Lightning lit the area like day.
The area where Six had hunkered down was empty.
His heart lurched. Pietas pivoted and braced against the ground. "Six! Six!"
He could not hear his own voice. No chance Six had.
Another lightning bolt revealed the ghost. Knocked down by the storm, he had rolled through the mud, but then crouched where he was, arms wrapped around his knees, head down. He signaled he was all right.
The hail lessened. Torrential rain replaced it, harder than any Pietas had ever experienced. He cupped his hands before his nose and mouth, sure he'd drown otherwise.
As exposed as he was to the storm, it seemed to last days. The low area where he squatted filled with water. Pietas reminded himself how much he'd longed for water while imprisoned.
Given the circumstances, it was hard to be grateful.
The darkness began to give way to sun.
Pietas waited until the rain had passed and the sun had come back out before he crawled out of the water-filled hole. He dragged the waterlogged packet of blankets after him.
Six grabbed the soggy packet and helped him drag it from the puddle. They plopped onto the wet ground, side by side. Six pointed to the parachute, half covered with water. "At least it didn't blow away."
"You sure did."
Six laughed. "I did at that." He wiped his face, smearing mud. He looked over at Pietas and chuckled, but bit his lips and turned his head.
"What?"
After looking back at Pietas, Six laughed again.
"What!"
Six pointed to Pietas's face. "That mask in the rain... not a good look, Ultra. Like a 'weapon of mascara destruction' went ballistic."
"Weapon of what?" All at once, Pietas got the joke. He burst into laughter and threw himself onto his back, into the mud. Using both hands, he wiped his wet face. Black smudged his fingers and palms. "If my people could see me right now, they'd never let me live it down."
"What, Pi? You think I will?"
That elicited another laugh. He wiped his face and dragged the fingers of both hands across Six's cheeks.
"Hey!" He swatted at Pietas, missed. Laughing, he propped himself on his side in the mud, facing him. "Can you believe we lived through that?"
Pietas sighed with more fatigue than he'd intended. "I live through everything."
Six chuckled. "I hear you. Come on. Let's get all this hung up to dry and I'll see if I can scare up dinner. At least we know why fishing was so good yesterday. Low pressure makes fish think they're hungry."
"In other words, fish can feel the storm coming and they look for food."
"Yep." He helped Pietas up. "And won't knowing that be a handy predictor of storms?"
* * * *
Once their equipment had dried, they camped one more night and discussed travel plans.
Pietas motioned overhead. "All the flocks we've seen are going south." He sat before their evening fire, knees drawn up. He wrapped his arms around them. "I have a sense of my people being south as well."
"You can feel them?"
"Every person leaves a kind of signature. Their presence warps space. Well, that's how
it was explained to me. I'm sure there's a better scientific explanation, but the basics are that I'm sensitive to the way energy fields change in their wake. I can track people or animals, better than most of my people."
"So that's why you find such better game than I do?" He backhanded Pietas on the arm.
"What was that for?"
"You held out on me. I'm working my butt off and you could've been out there finding dinner in a flash."
"Fine. I'll be the one to hunt from now on."
"You better be, Pi. Can you evade trackers? Now that'd be a skill to have."
"I agree, however, I seem to have no special propensity for evasion other than my training. Generally, an Ultra's skill has an opposite compensatory aspect, but not in everything."
"What does that mouthful of words mean?"
Pietas sat up. "An 'opposite compensatory aspect?' It means if I'm good at one thing, I'm generally good at its opposite. But in my case, I'm good at tracking but not at hiding. But I'm a master at compulsion and likewise I can resist. Coercion of any kind has no effect on me. By combining my gift of Chaos with Compulsion, I can make people do what I want."
"Did you use that on me? Back on the ship, did you make me like you?"
Pietas turned and picked up the steel cup from their pack, hiding his smile. "How nice to know you like me, ghost."
"You know what I mean. Ghosts are supposed to be immune to that stuff."
He turned the cup in his hands. "On the ship, I was encased in a copper and steel tube. None of my gifts function through that. It's an effective barrier. Since we arrived on the planet, I've had no reason to use it. We are friends, are we not?" He took a sip of water and handed the cup to Six. "I have no need to coerce a friend."
Six emptied the cup. "Thanks."
Whether he referred to the admission of friendship or the water didn't matter. Pietas remained beside him in companionable silence, watching the fire burn. Night birds cooed in the trees surrounding them. The stillness of the forest blanketed them in serenity. In the distance, night birds called to one another.
"I saw one of those cats today." Six picked up a stick.
"How big was it?"
"Like the others. Could be the same one for all I know. I was up a tree scouting the land ahead and saw it walk through a clearing and disappear into the woods."
"Be glad it wasn't in the tree with you."
He snorted. "Got that right." Six yawned. "Let's sleep. Tomorrow we head south."
Chapter Twenty-one
For the next two months, Pietas and Six traveled south, looking for any sign of the other Ultras. There was no game in the forest and no sign of people. The creek led to a river. Many days later, it dropped over a mighty waterfall. After they climbed down to its base, they swam, fished and slept. They found where the river began anew and a week later, discovered where emptied into a massive lake. It took six days to walk halfway around it.
On the southern shore, they set up a temporary camp where they could smoke fish and put it away for their journey. The last day, they washed their clothes, swam in the lake and spent a few hours lazing about in the sun.
"You know, it's hard to imagine."
"What is?" Pietas stretched out on his back.
"That the life I had before ever existed." Six sat, arms resting across his upraised knees. "This feels like home now."
"I can understand that, but I miss my life. I had a good one."
"I didn't. I worked hard. Got nothing. Never took time off except to go fishing now and then." He brushed aside his hair, but the breeze blew it back into his face. "I hope if you do find a way off this planet I don't have to go with you."
Pietas sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Why not?"
Six gazed out at the lake. "It's just-- I love this place. It's peaceful here."
"Ah. You say you love it here, but my senses tell me you're homesick."
"Well, sure. I miss my family. Don't you?"
How to answer without a lie? He brushed hair out of his eyes. "I miss what made me sad."
Six squinted one eye. "How's that again?"
"When you're with someone you love, they can break your heart. Annoy you. Make you sad. But when you're away from them, it's those things that you miss."
"Are you talking about your father?"
"No. My mother taught me never to say anything negative about people." He gave Six a sly smile. "So I don't talk about him."
The ghost chuckled. "Well, I don't want to go back, except to see family. I have nothing there. All my life, all I've ever known is war. I enlisted at seventeen. Thirty-eight now. Too old to fight. Tired of it."
"Too old? I'm almost two thousand. Try another excuse."
"Best I got. Thirty-eight's old, in my book."
"I've been thirty-eight a few times. Most lives I'm dead by then."
Six's attention snapped back to Pietas. "What?"
"I'm a warrior. I don't live to see forty. Hazards of the profession." He picked a yellow wildflower and twirled it between his fingers.
"How many times have you died?"
Pietas tossed the flower aside and shrugged. "I've lost count. Felt like a thousand times in that pod." He shuddered.
"If it would get you off this planet, would you get in the pod?"
"Six, I will never do that again, but if we get stuck here, ask me in a few thousand years. Might be a different story then. I think I'd go crazy if all I had to do every day was hunt and fish, eat and sleep." He tossed himself back on the grass and tucked his hands behind his head. The bright blue sky held wisps of clouds, moving on the wind. "I miss more sophisticated entertainment than deciding what shapes the clouds are taking."
Chuckling, Six stretched out beside him. "I hear you. I miss women."
"So do I. And men, too."
"You weren't kidding about having sex with whoever cut your hair in that ritual?"
Pietas gave a short laugh. "That was a joke, ghost. I was-- How do you say it? Messing with you."
"Get out!" He shoved Pietas's shoulder. "Okay, so you're not bisexual."
"I'm pansexual. Most Ultras are. When you live forever you get bored with the same thing every day. At least I do."
"Pansexual. What? Someone with a pulse?"
"I'm a bit more discriminating than that, thank you. But I'm open-minded. I appreciate sexual activities of various kinds. Ultras can never become pregnant or sire children--except for my parents--impart or contract sexually transmitted diseases. For us, sex is pure pleasure. One we never grow immune to, the way we do drugs and alcohol."
"So you didn't grow up being slapped down for experimenting?"
Pietas coughed. "I wouldn't say that, but my people are born adults and we're far less restrictive than humans. According to my friends, I'm less picky about lovers than I am about food. Sex is one of the few times I don't feel the need to be in charge. I like equality in a lover. Someone who can be as strong as I am." He let out a long, sighing breath. "The longer I live, the less of those there are. My troops all but worship me. Leading the council made me hated. I want someone with whom I can be myself."
Six didn't say anything, but after a while, he propped himself on an elbow. "They fed us nothing but lies about you. Well, except to say that you were a supreme fighter. This was true. Watching you in that room..." He uttered an expletive. "You had no defensive moves. Everything was offense. No wonder no one gets close to you. Like trying to hit a tornado."
Such praise from so valued a warrior! Pietas let himself smile.
"Anyway..." Six picked at a broken thumbnail. "I'm sorry we didn't meet under different circumstances."
"Are you?" A long strand of hair had fallen over the ghost's face and Pietas moved it aside. "Why?"
Six tossed his head and that strand fell back into his face. He tucked it behind an ear. "I would have liked sparring with you. Learning from you."
"I will teach you anything you want to know. But I hope here, you'll never have to use i
t."
"Yeah? Well, we find your people I might."
"Indeed. But not if I can prevent it. You are my friend. I will stand between you and anyone who thinks to harm you."
Six set a fist over his heart in an Ultra salute of tribute. "Thank you, Pietas."
He nodded. No doubt his family would think the ghost stayed with him only for protection, but if there was anything Pietas was good at, it was recognizing honor.
Six blazed with it.
How long had he spent in Six's presence before he'd considered him a friend? Now, he could not imagine life without him. He refused to accept that so mundane a thing as death might take Six away from him.
While his father was the better geneticist, his mother had a deft understanding of human needs. Surely the two of them could find a way to lengthen the ghost's life. Six had often said he'd lived past his "expiration date" and was on borrowed time. They would have to borrow more. How often had Pietas wished for humans to die? Now he wanted one to live forever.
The man was a better friend than any he'd ever known. But could they be more?
If Six were willing.
Pietas was not looking for a lover and he could live without sex. The appetites of an immortal were fierce, but intellect ruled him, not desire.
The ghost was an appealing mix of races, with black hair, brown eyes and dusky skin. The scientist in Pietas would love to study his genetic makeup. Six's looks mattered little. Far more important was the spirit. The character. The heart. And his ghost had more of those than ten lovers.
"Six, had we not met as enemies, would you have been my lover?"
The ghost's eyes went wide. "Say what?"
"From your reaction I take it you've never been in a same-sex relationship."
"Uh...." A lopsided smile twisted the human's mouth. "I love being with women."
A thought crossed his mind. How far could he take this? Should he tease the ghost? That might be fun. Hiding a smile, he set a hand on Six's thigh.
The ghost reached for their metal cup, taking himself out of reach.
"And now, Six? We're on Sempervia with no one else in sight. If we don't find my people, I may be the only person you ever see. If we do find them, there's no guarantee an Ultra female would bed a human male." He trailed one finger along Six's thigh.
Bringer of Chaos- The Origin of Pietas Page 12