Sojourners: Farpointe Initiative Book Two

by Aaron Hubble

  Calier was pulled to his feet, Maltoki slinging Calier’s good arm over his neck. “Let’s go, Professor. We don’t want to be left behind.”

  The sentries set off at a brisk pace.

  Still stunned, Calier willed his feet to move as the group surged around him. He still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

  His face still grim, Maltoki said, “It’s kind of like watching a history book and a fantasy story come to life in front of your eyes, isn’t it, Professor? The group you expected to find relics of just jogged into the forest very much alive. Too bad their leader is a spineless coward.”

  Calier just nodded his head.

  Questions raced through Calier’s mind. He was having trouble grasping any one of them. His curiosity was quickly replaced by sadness. It enveloped him as he felt the absence of Berit. The familiar weight of her arm looped in his was not there.

  Catching a glimpse of the stars through the trees he breathed a prayer. “Protect her. Protect her until we can come for her. If you will, I will give my life for hers.”

  Leaning against Maltoki, he followed the others into the darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Calier sighed, exhaling into the chill morning air. His breath hung in the air like a vaporous phantom. He watched the three Ma’Ha’Nae men jog out of the camp and become one with the forest, their drab green clothing a perfect match for the surroundings. Silently, he wished them luck and prayed they would find someone alive.

  Berit. Let them find Berit.

  The second the thought had run through his mind, he chided himself for the selfish feeling. Mina and Sulhan were also missing. They were just as deserving of rescue as Berit.

  But they’re not Berit, he thought.

  The lobbying he’d done with Ammaya had produced no fruit. The woman was immovable when she made up her mind, and her rationale made perfect sense. Calier was not in any condition to trek through the forest again. He would only hinder the sentinels and most likely cause more damage to his arm. Everything in him had wanted to fight more, to rail against her, but he was too weak. Too much blood loss and too much pain.

  Maltoki had taken care of the railing.

  Ammaya was unwilling to allow any of the sojourners to go back into the forest. The young student tried every argument he could think of, but to no avail. When his injuries were discovered, Ammaya planted her feet firmly and refused to let him go on the search. Maltoki had tried to hide his wounds, but after Rohab noticed the blood-soaked pant leg and an ever-worsening limp, she insisted upon inspecting his leg. She found a deep gash stretching from his upper thigh to close to his knee, the result of a wicked thorn bush he had run through while fleeing from their adversaries. Several other cuts crisscrossed his arms and chest. The damage was too extensive to cover up for long. Like Calier, his wounds would just slow down the sentinels. Dejected and upset, he had limped off to an isolated corner of the camp to brood.

  “Blessed awakening to you, Calier.”

  Calier jumped, surprised by Ammaya’s voice. How had she walked up behind him without him noticing? It was obviously a result of her training and time in the woods. Stealth and secrecy were a part of the life of a Ma’Ha’Nae. It had to be in order for the people to have been hidden this long, he thought.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.

  “No. It’s okay. I guess I was just deep in thought,” he said. “Let me see if I can remember the proper response to your greeting.” He searched his memory for the ancient Aerean greeting he knew he’d read somewhere. “And may the morning star bless your day?” he said hesitantly.

  “Very good. I’m impressed. How do you know the old greetings?”

  “It’s my job…literally, it’s my job. I’m a history professor at the university in Gadol City.”

  She nodded, folded her long legs under her and tended to what was left of the fire. She rearranged the coals into a pile and placed several thin pieces of wood over the red remnants of last night’s fire.

  “Very few people in the cities know those greetings. How do you know them, if I may ask?” Calier said.

  The brown hair that had been in a braid last night hung loose about her shoulders. Gathering it into one hand, she kept it from swinging into her face and began to blow gently onto the small pile. They flared orange, tendrils of smoke beginning to rise from the new pieces of wood before flames jumped to life, consuming this new fuel. Ammaya rocked back on her heels and began selecting the next pieces of wood she would place on the fire. Calier noticed she did this with practiced ease, almost automatically. Obviously it was a ritual she had participated in often.

  Taking a deep breath, she spoke. “The founders, those who separated themselves from the rest of the Am’Segid, felt we had forgotten who we were as a people. To them it felt we had begun to mark time from the establishment of the Great Peace and had forgotten about the long history of our people before the peace. To some extent, I can see why we would want to do that.”

  Ammaya produced a hatchet, and split several larger sticks down the middle, laying them across the hungry flames. She bent her head and blew onto the base of the flames several times and then sat up, satisfied with the results. “You, more than anyone, would know the history of our people is bloody and full of horror and atrocities, but there was also beauty in those thorns. The founders made sure we studied and remembered the good things that came from our past, and they encourage the use of the old greetings. It’s a simple thing, but it connects us to our ancestors so we never forget who we are.”

  He nodded. More questions came to his mind, but his eyes drifted back to the forest. Perhaps if he looked into the trees often enough, Berit would come walking out of them.

  Ammaya followed his gaze. “If your friends are out there, Nena will find them. He is the best sentinel I’ve ever worked beside.”

  He looked into her dark eyes. “I guess I’ll just need to trust you. In my present condition” - he lightly tapped his shoulder - “there’s really nothing else I can do.”

  “Thank you for understanding and abiding by my decisions. I know it’s hard.” Looking at him over the new flames, Ammaya said, “I don’t think your friend likes me much.”

  “He’s just passionate and worried about our friends,” Calier said.

  “He also knows a lot of colorful words.”

  Calier grinned remembering the out-of-character words Maltoki had directed at Ammaya when her men had stopped him from walking into the forest. “I’ll talk with him about his use of language, especially around or directed at a woman. He’s just…”

  “Been through a lot,” Ammaya finished. “I understand. I do.”

  On the other side of the camp, separated from the rest of the group, the human sat propped against the tree guarded by two sentinels. Calier studied the man. It unnerved him the man looked so much like an Am’Segid. He wanted him to look as grotesque as his deed warranted, not like someone he could pass on the sidewalk everyday.

  “What will happen to the soldier?” Calier asked.

  Ammaya shrugged. “I’m not sure. We’ll take him back to Alam and hopefully convince him to give up some information.”

  They were quiet for a moment. The fire had grown and warmed Calier’s chilled body. Others in camp were moving around. He saw several other sentinels putting together a simple breakfast and distributing it to the grateful members of Calier’s group. Maltoki sat next to Anoki. The boy had the vacant look of someone who was utterly lost. Oyeb and Emura were wrapped together in a blanket. On the other side of the fire, Ibris, Rohab and their boys shared a meal. Calier was thankful beyond words they had all survived. True to his character, Denar silently watched the group from a distance.

  Looking at Ammaya again, he said, “Do you know I’ve been searching for your people or clues about them for most of my career as a historian?”

  “I didn’t know we were such an area of interest,” she said, eyebrow arching.

  �
�Not for everyone. Most people have forgotten about the Ma’Ha’Nae or have never even heard of you. It’s considered more legend now than historical fact. It’s still hard for me to believe I’m talking with an actual Ma’Ha’Nae.”

  She spread her arms wide. “Believe it, Professor. We do exist.”

  He smiled and shook his head, trying to take it all in. His curiosity bubbled to the surface and pushed aside the melancholy he had been mired in since his rescue.

  “Why?”

  Ammaya looked at Calier, confusion written on the angular features of her face. “Why what?”

  “Why everything! Why did the Ma’Ha’Nae separate? Why did they choose to live here? Why do you continue to live in isolation? Why…”

  Shouting from the far side of the camp cut his words short. Ammaya sprang to her feet and sprinted toward the confusion. Calier saw several figures struggling on the ground where the captive soldier had been propped against a tree. He pushed himself up, ignoring the pain, and hobbled toward the skirmish.

  When he arrived, Calier saw the two guards holding back Denar. In his hand he held a knife. The soldier was lying on the ground, blood ran from a large gash in his right arm. With the sentinels help, Ammaya twisted Denar’s arm behind his back and wrestled the knife out of his hand.

  “Filthy murderer!” Denar screamed, struggling against the arms holding him back. “I want to see your blood run on the ground just like my family’s. You killed my children! You killed my wife!” Choked sobs escaped from Denar. He quit struggling and slumped to the ground.

  Ibris and Maltoki arrived. Ammaya gave Calier a questioning look and then turned back toward her sentinels.

  “Let’s get this man’s wound clean. We’ll leave our friends to take care of their own.”

  Ibris and Maltoki helped Denar off the ground and guided him toward the fire.

  ****

  They were able to get Denar calmed down. The dark, mysterious woodsman with an impenetrable exterior had been replaced with a broken husk of a man crushed by the loss of his family. Calier presumed he’d been barely keeping it together, allowing the hate for the invaders to drive him. That all came crashing down when actually presented with the opportunity to exact revenge. It made him wonder if Denar was actually capable of the things he’d assumed the man had already done.

  Ammaya made her way around the fire, handing Calier a small metal flask and nodded at Denar. “This will probably help. Maybe it will calm the nerves.” She stared at Denar for a brief moment and spoke to Calier again. “Can he travel?”

  Denar cut off Calier. “I’ll be fine.”

  Ammaya nodded. “Rouse your people. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

  Maltoki limped toward him from the far side of the camp, shooting a withering glance at Ammaya as she passed. To her credit, the woman just nodded to Maltoki and moved on to the tasks she needed to accomplish before the party left.

  Sitting beside him, Maltoki said, “What did the ice queen have to say?”

  “Ice queen?”

  “Yeah, as in, she has an unfeeling heart of ice,” Maltoki growled.

  Calier regarded the young man for a moment. “She asked how you were doing and said she was sorry she couldn’t allow us to go into the forest. Nena, the man who’s leading the search party, is the best man she has for the job.”

  Maltoki grunted and stared into the fire.

  “Son, your emotions and passion are a credit to you, but you must learn to keep them in check and listen to reason. You may not like what you hear. I didn’t like being told I couldn’t go into the forest looking for Berit, but I know she’s right.”

  Calier shifted his position. The slight movement sent jagged pain through his shoulder, causing him to grit his teeth until it abated.

  “And one other thing. If I ever hear you talk to a woman in that way again, using words only the basest among us would use, I will recruit Denar and we will use extreme force to make sure you never use those words again. I assume she worked hard to be in the position she is as a leader. That warrants her a great deal of respect. Understood?”

  Maltoki nodded. “Understood.”

  “When you have a free minute, it might be a good idea to hang your head in shame and apologize to the woman who saved your skin.”

  “I know. I will.”

  “Good.” Using his good arm, Calier clapped Maltoki on the shoulder. “Keep praying for Berit’s safe return. Now help me up. Ammaya wants to leave soon.”

  Maltoki helped Calier to his feet, and the two men began rousing the rest of the sojourners.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  It wasn’t hard to locate the ship. All Nena had to do was follow the trail of splintered trees and smoking debris. After walking for about thirty minutes, they saw the wreckage.

  “There it is,” Nena said. “Mentoi, I want you to remain on guard outside of the ship while Bacca and I search the inside.”

  The three sentries fanned out and approached cautiously. Smoke drifted from the torn hull. A large disc of metal lay on the ground. Beside it lay a soldier. His leg bent at an odd angle, broken by the crash.

  Nena rolled him over. On the breast pocket of his shirt Nena saw letters. K-A-N-E. He assumed it was a name.

  “Is he alive, Nena?”

  Nena shook his head, “No. It looks like he may have survived the crash and crawled out of that hole. Maybe an emergency exit. He dragged himself out of the ship, but he didn’t last long.”

  Bacca peered into the emergency exit cautiously, shining his hand lamp into the dark aircraft. “I don’t see anything moving. It’s a mess, though. I’m going in.”

  He handed his rifle to Nena and then hoisted himself up. When he reached out of the exit, Nena handed the rifle back to him, and then Bacca disappeared into the ship. In a short time Nena heard Bacca call for his help. He quickly made his way into the smoking hull. He waded through debris scattered around the hold. The tangy, acrid scent of burnt wire and electronics stung Nena’s nose. Blue electricity arced and popped, trying to bridge a broken connection. The light it gave off intermittently illuminated the inside of the ship. Wires hung from the ceiling like black forest vines.

  Moving his hand lamp over the hold, Nena located his teammate. Bacca was kneeling over a body. Pushing a metal container out of his way, he moved closer and saw the horrible truth.

  The body was of a young Am’Segid woman.

  Nena looked past the body and spied the body of another woman, also dead.

  He had pulled the trigger that sent the ordinance streaking into this ship. He had caused it to crash, resulting in the death of these women.

  He had killed them.

  Bacca looked into the eyes of his friend and saw the turmoil raging. He rose and moved toward Nena.

  “I know what you’re thinking and you need to stop right now.”

  “But I…”

  Bacca cut him off. “No! No,” he said. “You had no choice. If you hadn’t pulled the trigger, we’d all be dead along with the group these women used to belong to. You did what had to be done.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact they’re dead,” Nena said, running his hand through his hair.

  “You’re right, but you had no idea they were in this ship.”

  Nena nodded reluctantly. He knew Bacca was right, but his heart still ached, and guilt consumed him.

  Bacca put his hand on Nena’s shoulder. “We still have a job to do. Put it behind you and let’s search the ship.”

  Nena tore his eyes from the broken body, and Bacca pushed him toward the front of the ship.

  With difficulty, they made their way into the cockpit. Surprisingly, it was the least damaged part. Nena’s eyes caught sight of a figure slumped over an instrument panel.

  “Bacca! There’s someone in here. It looks like a woman.”

  Bacca pushed his way into the cockpit. “Is she alive?”

  “I don’t know.” Nena reached out and pressed his fingers against the neck of the bald
woman. Her skin was warm to the touch and he felt a weak pulse.

  “She lives. We need to get her out of this chair. Help me lift.”

  The two men awkwardly straddled the Pilot’s station and began to hoist the woman out. Nena noticed the woman had no legs below the knees, and something was preventing them from freeing her.

  Nena searched for the restraint. They had already unbuckled her safety harness. Then he saw the black cable dangling from the woman’s head.

  “By the great cities, what is that?” Nena asked.

  The two men inspected the cable. It snaked from the back of the woman’s head and disappeared into the bulkhead behind her.

  Bacca stared at the woman, confused. “You don’t think she’s plugged into the ship, do you?”

  Nena shook his head. “I don’t know what to think.” He held the cable in his hands and followed it up to the back of the woman’s head. “But that’s obviously what’s holding her in this cockpit.” He looked at his partner. “Do we dare try to unplug it?”

  Bacca shrugged. “What do I look like, an expert on alien tech? I don’t know, but what I do know is she’ll die if we leave her here. We’ll have no answers then. So if we unplug her and she dies, we can always say at least we tried.”

  “Okay. So how do we unplug her?” Nena began gently probing where the cable met the back of the woman’s scalp. He was about to say something when Bacca’s hand flashed in, grasped the cable and gave a mighty tug.

  The woman’s body went rigid, her eyes opened and she gasped. Then she again went limp. Nena looked at Bacca, who stood holding a wicked metal rod and wore a sheepish grin on his face.

  “You’d still be trying to figure it out. Sometimes you just need to act and worry about the consequences later.”

  Nena fixed Bacca with a disapproving look. “Fine. But next time let me know when you’re going to do something like that. I’d like a heads up.” He grasped the lower half of the woman’s torso. “Let’s get her out of here.”