by Aaron Hubble
Calier laughed and then couldn’t quit laughing. It infected the rest of the group and all the anxiety, sadness, and hopelessness that had dogged them for the past couple of weeks escaped from them, released by the near absurdity of their present location.
Dizziness soon replaced the laughter. Calier’s legs weakened and Maltoki had to lower him to the floor, his laughter gone, replaced by concern.
Ibris rushed to his friend’s side and looked to Ammaya. “He needs a doctor immediately.”
The voices of those around him faded in and out. At times he could understand what was being said. Mostly it was about him, but then it would degrade into garbled nonsense. The faces hovering over him looked worried and they seemed to move quickly. Calier wanted to tell them not to worry about him, that the pain in his shoulder was gone and he was feeling much better. His eyelids were so heavy. Trying to fight against their desire to close seemed pointless. Why bother? he thought. Calier closed his eyes and felt relief wash over him. There was no more fighting, no more struggling, just blessed rest. He only regretted two things. Not finding Berit and never finding out how these people had come to live under the lake.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Ammaya strode into the command center. It was here the Ma’Ha’Nae kept tabs on all the activity in the forest and around its borders. While the rest of Aereas was in the dark, Alam generated its own power through hydroelectricity and the thermo energy of the planet itself.
The low buzz of voices surrounded her. There was a difference today. The uniformed men and women moved with greater purpose. Eyes scanned the screens and listened to communications more intensely than they had in previous days or even decades.
She skirted the many work desks and moved with fluid grace toward the command officer’s office. She pulled up short as she saw Nena, her second, in the commander’s office. The older man was sitting on the edge of his desk and his hand was on Nena’s shoulder. The young man was looking at the floor and nodding his head. He stood and shook the commander’s offered hand and then exited the office. Ammaya intercepted him.
“Nena, when did you get back?”
Nena saluted, three fingers to his forehead and then down to his palm. “About an hour ago. I asked after you, but they said you were seeing to the needs of the people we found in the forest.”
“They were in rough shape, especially the one who was shot through the shoulder. He collapsed and his heart stopped just as we made it into the city.”
Nena’s eyes went wide. “Mercy. Is he okay?”
“Yes.” Ammaya nodded. “But he won’t be leaving the hospital anytime soon. The tall young one is being stitched up, and he will spend a little time in the hospital recovering. The rest are being treated for dehydration and malnutrition. They’ll be kept overnight and released if the doctors are satisfied with their progress. We’ll need to find temporary quarters for them. Then I’d like to talk to them and find out more of their story. I’m sure the elders will want to know more as well.”
Nena rubbed his hand over his face and leaned into the wall. She reached out and grasped his arm. “Hey, you okay? You’re not looking your best. Did you find the crash site?”
He shook his head as he rubbed his eyes. “It’s all in the report I gave Jondon, but it was worse than I thought. The women who had been taken were dead. No survivors were found where the attacks took place. We found five dead, four men and a woman. We covered their bodies to keep the animals away. We’ll need to recover them later. I’m sure the group would like to give their friends a proper burial.”
Ammaya nodded and squeezed Nena’s arm. “Good work. Anything else?”
“We did bring back one survivor.”
Puzzled, Ammaya asked, “I thought you said there weren’t any survivors?”
“No Am’Segid survivors. This was one of the invaders. She appeared to be the pilot of the ship. Somehow she was…connected to the ship,” Nena said.
“Connected?”
Nena nodded. “Read about it in the report.”
“Right. I will.” She noted the worn expression on his normally bright face. “Go get some rest. Take the next day off. I’ll call you when I need you again. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned and walked out of the office.
Jondon stood in the doorway of his office watching the young man go. He motioned her in and closed the door behind her.
“He’s a good sentry. Smart and capable.”
Ammaya agreed. “The best. I can always count on him to take the hard, necessary actions.”
“Yes. That was what we were talking about. Did he tell you what they found in the ship?”
“Two dead Am’Segid and the pilot.”
Jondon nodded. “That’s right. Two dead Am’Segid.” He ran his hand through his short gray hair and leaned back in his desk chair. “Do you know who pulled the trigger?”
Understanding dawned on Ammaya. “Nena.”
“Nena,” Jondon said nodding. “He’s having a hard time with it. The Ma’Ha’Nae have not turned their weapons upon another sentient creature for hundreds of years. It’s why we live here, why we hid ourselves away. Now, one young man has the dubious honor of being the first to do so. Unfortunately, his actions caused the death of two Am’Segid. We may be Ma’Ha’Nae, but we are first Am’Segid.”
“He didn’t know they were in there. None of us did.”
“True, but that makes it no less difficult for the young man. While being a fearless sentry, he’s also a tender soul who feels deeply. I talked to him, but he’s going to need to hear from his captain. Soon.”
Ammaya leaned forward, her arms resting on her knees. “I understand. I’ll talk with him as soon as I leave here.”
The chair squeaked as Jondon leaned back. “They also found something interesting in the ship.”
Ammaya lifted her eyebrows.
“There was another woman in the ship. It appears she was the pilot, but there was something very different about this woman.”
“Nena mentioned it, but told me to read about it in his report. Do tell.”
Jondon rolled his chair back and opened a desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of blue liquid and two glasses. He filled them half full and offered one to Ammaya.
“This woman was plugged into the ship.”
She fixed Jondon with a questioning. “What do you mean, plugged in?”
“I mean there was a metal rod inserted into the back of her head connected to what Nena assumed was the ship’s computer.”
Ammaya sat up straight. “How is that possible?”
Jondon shrugged, swirled the blue liquid and took a drink. “Your guess is as good as mine, but Dr. Mirala is tending to her. Maybe she’ll have answers for us.”
Ammaya tilted the glass back and let the liquid slide down her throat. The information Jondon had just given her was hard to accept, but so was an unknown enemy launching a continent-wide attack. So all bets were off as far as new information was concerned. She felt the liquor easing the tension she hadn’t even been aware of. Taking a deep breath, she looked into Jondon’s gray eyes.
“We brought one of the invaders back with us. Maybe he’ll have answers if this woman does not.”
Eyebrows rising, Jondon said, “I hadn’t heard this piece of information. Is he a soldier?”
Ammaya nodded. “Yes, he was chasing the group we rescued through Sho’el. We intercepted them and dispatched all the soldiers except the one we brought back.”
Jondon peered into his glass. His deep voice rumbled out of his chest. “So. Tell me how it happened.”
“It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever been involved in.” Ammaya looked into the glass and took another drink. “The only thing that kept us alive was that we surprised them, and we knew where the night stalkers were roosting. We did what we had to do, like Nena, but…Jondon, I knowingly led those men into a slaughter.”
Jondon gazed at her silently for several seconds. He set the glass d
own on the desk and turned it several times before speaking. “Do you know how long I walked around the forest before I started sitting behind this desk?”
“No, sir.”
“Thirty years. Do you know how many times I actually fired my weapon, not counting the times I used it to hunt?”
Ammaya shook her head.
Jondon held up his hand and used his thumb and first finger to form a circle. “Zero. I never had to fire my weapon at anything other than stalkers, wolves and deer. Today you did something no other living sentinel has ever had to do. You defended the city and rescued fellow Am’Segid. In doing that you took life. I know you don’t take that lightly, and you shouldn’t, but there was no other choice available to you. Had you hesitated, I would be sitting here, drinking alone, staring at the clock, and wondering when my best sentry was going to return. So.” He held up his glass. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you for doing what was necessary.”
Ammaya held up her glass as well and drank with her commander. She traced its intricate etched woodland pattern with her finger.
“It won’t be the last time, will it?”
Jondon sighed. “That’s a decision left up to the elders.”
She set the glass on the desk and said, “We’re Ma’Ha’Nae, but we’re also Am’Segid. You taught me the job of the sentry was to keep our people safe from animals and anything that could threaten their safety. Even though we have never lived in the cities above the water, animals have overrun them.” Raising her head, she locked eyes with Jondon. She could feel anger rising in her chest as she continued to speak. “Sir, no disrespect, but if we allow animals to roam our land unchecked and hurt our people, what kind of sentries are we?”
He smiled. “Point taken.” Standing, Jondon moved to the door. “Sorry to cut this short, but I want to check in on the visitors you brought back from the forest.”
“They’re still in the hospital, sir.”
Jondon opened the door. “Care to join me?”
“No, I think I‘ll track down Nena and talk with him.”
“Good call.” Jondon entered the work area. He turned once more to Ammaya.
“I love this place, Ammaya. I love the people and everything about Alam. I don’t want things to change, but you’re right. Perhaps it’s time for the Ma’Ha’Nae to come out of the forest.” Turning, he left Ammaya sitting alone in his office to finish her drink.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Dillon appraised the man who stood in front of the door.
He would have made an exceptional bar bouncer. His arms strained at the sleeves of his shirt, and he wore a serious expression on his face. Dillon was strong, but he would need to think long and hard about taking on the guard without help.
Not that he could get out of bed, anyway.
His legs were strapped down, along with one arm. They had allowed him freedom with the other, but always secured both before allowing the doctor to evaluate his injuries.
As far as he could tell, he had mostly cuts and bruises. He knew he would be having nightmares about the creature that attacked him for a long time. He had never come in contact with anything so revolting or terrifying. Even with his enhanced abilities, it had taken all of his strength and agility to fend off its attacks. In his mind he still heard the screams of his men and the awful gurgling as they choked on their own blood. Dillon closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the memory.
He’d seen men die before, but not like that. Not disemboweled and eaten while they still struggled.
The door hissed open, and the woman he’d come to know as the doctor entered followed by an older man with short, graying hair. They stood in front of his bed and conferred for several seconds. Their speech was almost lyrical, but no matter what it sounded like, he still couldn’t understand it without his translator.
He needed access to his equipment, but how could he make them understand?
The man addressed him directly. Dillon shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
He thought hard and then began to mime putting a helmet on his head and lacing up boots. I wasn’t very effective, especially with only one arm free to move. The two natives stared at him with bewildered looks on their faces. After several more attempts, the doctor pulled a scrap of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him with a pencil. She pulled a tray over toward him and gestured to him with her hand, miming drawing.
Dillon drew a crude picture of his head and then the ear piece. The doctor’s face brightened in recognition. She spoke to the older man. His face remained impassive. It was obvious he was unconvinced whether he should allow this to happen. Dillon pointed to his mouth and to his ear and then to the man. The man crossed his arms and stared intently at Dillon. It was a withering stare. He had the feeling it was one perfected over many years of being in leadership.
The man conferred briefly with the doctor. She left and returned momentarily holding the earpiece. She gingerly handed it to Dillon and he nodded his thanks. The translator fit into his ear, much like an old Earth hearing aid. When programmed with the appropriate translation matrix, the wearer heard his own language through the earpiece. Dillon powered up the second piece of the device with his free hand. The slim black rectangle was normally worn on the arm, secured by an armband, but Dillon just left it in his lap. He scrolled through the menu and found what he wanted. When he spoke, the black rectangle would parse his language into the speech of his listeners and they would receive a translation they could understand. He had never needed the device on Earth. Everyone spoke the CPF-mandated language.
Dillon secured the ear piece and spoke.
“Hello.”
From the translator on his arm a voice spoke in a language he didn’t know. He saw their startled looks when they heard their own language. The man spoke first. The earpiece translated for Dillon.
“Hello. I’m Jondon and this is Dr. Mirala.” He indicated the woman next to him. “That is quite a piece of technology you have. I hate to ask how your people have come to know our language so well.”
“Long story.”
Jondon regarded him coolly. “Why don’t we start with the obvious question. Where are you from, and why are your people attacking our cities?”
“Where are my men?”
“Where are you from?”
Their eyes locked. It would be a battle of wills, and Dillon was not going to give up information so easily. Not when there was a chance he could be rescued. He had no idea where he was or how far from the crash site he’d been taken, but the CPF would be able to find the ship. At this moment he knew Mrs. Norris was emitting a signal Command would be able to track. Perhaps there was a chance they would be able to find him.
“My men. Where are they?”
The man named Jondon continued to stare at him. “Dead.”
“All of them? By those creatures?”
The man nodded. “Night stalkers.”
Dillon closed his eyes and sighed. The whole team, gone. He had failed as a commander. Dillon didn’t want to believe what the man had said, but images of the slaughter came to his mind again. Maybe the better question was, how had he survived?
“And my injuries?” he asked.
Jondon gestured to the doctor. The woman took a step toward his bed and consulted a slim electronic pad. Dillon stared at the doctor as she looked for something on the device. Previously, all the indigenous people he had had contact with had been adorned with streaks of color running from their temples down to the ends of their hair. Often the streaks were very bright and colorful, but this woman had none, and her eyes were a normal brown. She could easily have passed for human. “And me?”
“Lacerations, a broken rib, a severely sprained ankle and many bumps and bruises. My main concern is the cuts you sustained from the stalker. Their talons are known to harbor a host of nasty bacteria. I’m watching you for infection. If infection does set in, it will be hard to stop.” She looked up from the pad and regarded him with
inquisitive eyes. “Although I’m not sure I should be worried about infection. You are healing at an extraordinary rate. Is that common to your people?”
Dillon remained silent. The less information he gave away, the more fear and mystery would surround him. He wasn’t about to tell them tiny machines were repairing his body faster than any medicine could.
The man called Jondon kept his eyes fixed on Dillon. He could feel the heat of loathing and frustration radiating from the man.
Dillon supposed he had a reason.
The man crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Back to the original questions. Where are you from and why are you attacking the cities?”
Silence followed the question as Dillon continued to stare at the man.
After what seemed an interminable period of silence, the man turned to the doctor. “Keep him secured to the bed. He gets water and enough nutrients to keep him alive. No food until he becomes more conversational.”
“But…,” the doctor started to protest, but the man held up a hand to silence her. He turned smartly and left the room with the doctor close on his heels.
Dillon took the earpiece off and looked around at what had become his prison cell. It was the nicest one he had ever seen. At least it was clean and smelled good. He laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. His stomach rumbled, but he didn’t acknowledge the hunger.
****
Jondon felt a firm grip on his arm and he turned. Dr. Mirala had followed him out of the room.
He sighed.
Unless he cut this off, he knew the coming argument could keep him here for thirty minutes. It was thirty minutes he didn’t have to spare right now.
“You can’t do that to a patient. It’s cruel. No food! Are we barbarians?”
“Doctor.” Jondon held up his hand. “Mirala. Please. I don’t have time for an argument. If you want to discuss this further, I suggest you make an appointment to meet me in my office.”
He turned, but the grip on his arm held him back once again.