Across a Sea of Stars

by Michael E. Gonzales

  Once dressed, he walked back around shaking each leg between steps. Tattie laughed even harder as he came walking out. "I haven't felt like this since that time I had to eject over a swamp in—" He was stopped by the sound of her full force laughter. The warmth inside him was such that he felt sure the heat would instantly dry the mud on his suit. He also lost his concern for the wet and slimy discomfort of the muddy clothes.

  He stood still, enjoying the sound until she stopped. She was looking right at him, and after a moment, her smile turned to concern.

  She took a deep breath. "Cris?"

  "Yeah." Cris seemed to snap out of it. "Listen, I need to hide these." He indicated the white undergarments in his hand.

  "Yes, indeed you do. And I can see just the place from here."

  "Where?"

  "Not far—just over there. But you need to wait here. It's not safe for you." Taking the white garments from him, she shot off into the woods running at what Cris would later learn was thirty-eight km/h. She was very quickly back at his side. "There," she said.

  "What did you do with them?"

  "Just over there is a family of Row Dores, they will shred your things and use them in their nest."

  "And what are Row Dores?"

  "A large carnivorous rodent. You would not be able to outrun one."

  "Hey—I'm a pretty good runner."

  "I've seen you run, gimba."

  "Okay, okay—you've referred to me as gimba several times."

  "Yes, I have."

  "What does it mean?"

  "It means you, gimba. Now, let's go."

  Before they left, Cris reached down and retrieved his insignia off the ground. To remain in compliance with the Geneva Conventions, he must be able to identify himself as a service member. He kept one set of Captain's bars, his astronaut wings, and the American flag, which he carefully wiped clean before placing in his pocket.

  Just then, Tattie turned to see the remainder of the insignia in his hand. "Good thinking, you better hide those things, too."

  Cris stepped off the trail and was about to stuff the items into a knothole on the side of a tree. Before his hand touched the bark, Tattie had rushed to his side and grabbed his wrist. "No!" she whispered, urgency dripping from her voice. "Do not bother the trees," she said, looking around and up. Then, in a much louder voice, she said, "Being new to our world, you are ignorant."

  She took the insignia from Cris, walked a short distance, lifted the end of a good-sized rock, and tossed the bits of cloth under it. She then took Cris by the hand, and together, they backed up until they reached the path.

  "Let us go," she whispered. And they hurried along.

  "Mind explaining that to me?"

  "Silence," she snapped.

  They walked on quietly for half-an-hour. "Tattie, I'm starting to think that you—"

  "Silence."

  An hour later, he tried again. "Tat—"

  "Be silent!" Tattie said sternly.

  Another hour passed, and another. The day wore on. Without speaking a word, they marched up one hill after another, following the path through valleys and around a group of boulders so large they had forests of their own growing on their tops, like the strange hair of some giant rock star.

  Among these stones, and surrounded by the great forest, they stopped to rest.

  Tattie sat upon the ground, and Cris sat across from her. She quickly shifted her position to sit next to him, then she held a finger up in front of his face. He watched as she then placed her finger into the dirt and deftly drew a picture of one of the tall trees with the dark orbs on their trunks. She paused, then struck a line through it. They looked at one another and she pointed to her mouth and shook her head. Obviously, she wanted no discussion of the trees. Cris understood, and nodded.

  "Tattie, I don't see you've brought any food or water."

  "My original plan would have had me at my destination before I became hungry." As she spoke, she looked nervously around.

  "Look," Cris said, "I have some—how's it pronounced again—bet eco og, here.”

  "Beteko og? Wherever did you get that?"

  "This woman in the village—"

  "Woman? Who?"

  "I can't recall her real name—it was a real mouthful. I called her Bell. She helped get me out of the vill—"

  "Oh, oh, all right—she was a Parenmer woman."

  "Yeah, how did you know?"

  "Everyone on Nazer knows that the alien who killed Ela Qum Mato Ranzer landed among the Parenmerians."

  "You seem to dismiss Bell as insignificant because she is a Parenmerian. Is that because she's smaller than you?"

  "Cris—what do you read into me that is not there? I dismiss her because, being Parenmerian, she is no longer part of the equation. She can be of no further assistance."

  "Oh, sorry."

  "She gave you this bread?"

  "Yes."

  "She must have liked you very much."

  "She saw me as the liberator of her people."

  "Of course she did, and you—" Tattie paused, then asked, "May I have some?"

  "Sure!" He was about to offer her the use of his pocketknife when she produced the large hunting knife he had seen earlier that day.

  She cut a piece much smaller than he had.

  "Is that all you want?" Cris asked.

  "It is all I need, Cris."

  "Are you thirsty?" Cris asked. "Mag'Osnik gave me his water bladder just as I was—"

  "Oh, please Cris, may I?" She became excited as her eyes fell on the leather bladder.

  "Of course." Cris handed it to her and she drank deeply. She handed it back to him licking her lips, and said, "I was in dire need of that. Thank you."

  "I guess so." He sloshed the pouch about. "You know where we can get clean water to refill this?"

  "Water? Cris that is not water, it is the elixir of Geldneth Nordthok. Drink some now, be refreshed, feel your pain wash away, and your troubled mind set at ease." As she spoke, her eyes grew wide and she leaned into him. He noticed a color in her cheeks he had not noticed before. He lifted the bladder and swallowed two mouthfuls. There was perhaps a single mouthful remaining. Cris replaced the stopper. He received the same refreshed feeling he had the last time he drank this stuff, and his sore muscles and feet suddenly felt new and reinvigorated. His wounded calf stopped throbbing, as well. He smiled at Tattie as he slung the bladder over his shoulder.

  "We're going to need some more of this stuff, or at least some water."

  "Oh, Cris, you do not understand. Whatever liquid your pour into that vessel becomes Geldneth Nordthok."

  "Any liquid?"

  "It must only be wet. Even mud will be transformed."

  "Wizard, he said. I'm starting to believe it."

  Tattie leapt to her feet, highly excited. "Vemde, we have but a kronmal or two to go."

  "To get to Emer Alda?"

  "No, gimba, to reach the hamlet of Aldeya, and the farm valley of Faretress just beyond." She started to run, shouting, "Vemde!"

  Before he could get up, she was gone, just like that; she had put on a burst of speed and vanished down the trail. Cris just stood there, a vacant look on his face. He felt suddenly alone and abandoned.

  Ensuring he had everything, he started walking down the path. Silence enveloped him as shadow envelopes the world at the onset of night. Her voice was gone, the sound of her feet in the sandy soil, her breathing. Worse, he could no longer hear her laugh.

  Her laugh… I'll bet she's a wizard, too. She put a spell on me, made me dependent on that laugh so she could destroy my morale. My morale, what the hell am I thinking? If she were an enemy, she had plenty of opportunities to kill me. What if she's a bounty hunter and racing forward to alert enemy troops to turn me in and collect the reward?

  Cris shook his head and rubbed his face. Are you listening to yourself? You're losing it, Cris old boy, better get your head back in the game, this is survival 101.

  That's when Cris remember
ed to reload his pistol. He dropped the empty magazine, got a fresh one from his satchel, and slapped it into the pistol grip. He was about to replace the weapon in his thigh pocket when he heard, "You just can't stop playing with your rama."

  "Tattie! I—I thought you'd left me!"

  "What made you think that?"

  "You said follow me, then vanished down the trail, and I lost sight of you."

  "I just went to get you the water you asked for, see?" She held up an almost full bucket of water. "Never spilled a drop," she said, and laughed.

  As she did, Cris again got that warm feeling. He enjoyed it, but questioned the effect and its intent. "I'm happy you returned. I missed your laugh." When he said this, he studied her face to see if she betrayed herself. Perhaps she would notice his awareness of the affect her laughter was having on him. But no, she only smiled coyly.

  Oh, no, he thought to himself, the sight of her smile had the same affect upon him: warming him, and filling him with a happy, pleasurable feeling.

  Something was happening here, and until he figured it out, he was not certain he could trust her. Still, it might just be some unknown consequences of first contact with an alien species.

  Cris held the wizard's leather bladder out as Tattie carefully poured it full from the bucket. She did not spill a drop.

  There was still a lot of water left in the bucket. Tattie hefted the bucket over to the edge of the trail. She looked upward and, finding the tallest of the trees with the two-toned leaves and the glassy domes on their bark, she slowly approached it at a crouch, the bucket held out before her. At the base of the tree, she slowly poured the water out saying, "Sushipie monous ista umilima ave."

  Oddly, Cris did not understand a word of what she said. He worried that the wizard's mental programming had become corrupted.

  "Tattie—do you understand me?"

  She looked up with a puzzled expression. "Of course I understand you, what do you mean?"

  Cris exhaled deeply. "I didn't understand a word you said just now; I was afraid I'd lost the ability to comprehend."

  "Oh—did Mag'Osnik use the stone of Preensanso on you?"

  "It was a blue rock."

  "Have no fear, Cris Salazar you will forever be able to understand most languages on Nazer."

  "I didn't understand that."

  "I spoke the language of the ancient settlers, the first life on Nazer. Few speak it anymore. Come—let us go now, together."

  "You got that bucket in the village of Aldeya?"

  "Yes."

  "You are the fastest girl I ever meet—ah—I mean, you're a fast runner."

  They walked onward through the forest toward the hamlet of Aldeya, and the farm valley of Faretress.

  Not much farther down the path, Cris and Tattie saw before them a bright light. The path seemed to run straight into it. As they came closer, Cris could see that the light was a tall sliver, its peak seemed to vanish among the tops of the trees. It was, in fact, the point where the trail exited the thick forest.

  "Tattie, stay here, I'll go check this out." Cris produced his pistol.

  "Put that thing away," Tattie scolded him. "What you're seeing is the sky beyond the trees. The sun pulls the blanket of Nazer over his head and day turns to night."

  They walked out from under the trees and Cris felt as if he could breathe again. The moist, heavy, stagnant air was replaced with a gentle, soft, sweet, breeze.

  The trail paralleled the wood line at a distance of some fifty meters. They were walking along the crest of a gently sloping hill. To their left, the sun was setting. Before them lay a beautiful valley nestled between green hills, and at its near end sat a sleepy little hamlet. At first glance, the hamlet looked like a Viking settlement. But upon closer examination, Cris could see the various, and marked, distinctions.

  Smoke slowly rose from the sleepy little community's many chimneys. Domesticated animals, like those he'd seen in the Parenmer barn, milled about behind rough wood fences. It was an idyllic scene.

  As they walked, Cris looked over at Tattie, she was quiet, but seemed to be enjoying the fresh air and the warm sun. She was smiling.

  "Tattie, now we're out of the woods, tell me about the trees."

  The smile left her face. "The trees are a friend to no creature, nor are they an enemy. But they will not suffer gimba. They have been a friend to the Geldneth many times in our history, and have also killed among the Geldneth. They are old beyond time and demand the respect of their age. They have written their story in stone, in a tongue none can read. We have learned not to trouble the trees. You showed disrespect to one of their number back there. Had I not stopped you, we would both be dead now. After the commission of such an injustice, it is wise not to be heard speaking of them."

  "Are you telling me these trees are cognizant, can see and hear and react to stimuli in their environment?"

  "I am telling you they are thinking, emotional creatures as much as you or I."

  Cris was genuinely astounded. "And you're telling me they have a common language, and communicate among one another?"

  "Yes. Every Avory on the planet can speak instantly with one another through their roots that cover all of Nazer."

  "Amazing. Can they move?"

  "They don't need to. They control every plant on Nazer, the lichen, flowers, every blade of gram acts as their eyes, ears, and hands."

  "They hear us now?"

  "Most likely."

  "Why is it we can speak of them here but not inside the woods?"

  "Because out here we are not an offense under their eyes."

  "Okay—" Cris wondered if this was just local lore and superstition, or was it for real?

  The sun was dipping much lower as they entered the village. Outside, men were lighting large lamps and igniting huge fire pots fed by reservoirs of some flammable liquid.

  "This will keep the beasties away, I take it?"

  "See, Cris Salazar, you do learn."

  "What are we going to do tonight, just keep walking?"

  "No. We must traverse the valley, and the forest is too close on both sides—it is unwise. Tomorrow will be soon enough."

  "But what about tonight?"

  "Tonight, we stay with my teaoh."

  Cris shot her a questioning glance.

  "Teaoh," she replied to his look, "the male sibling of my mother."

  "Oh—your mother's brother, your uncle."

  "Uncle, this means teaoh?"

  "Yes."

  Tattie glanced at Cris then looked him up and down. "You can't be seen by my teaoh looking like that, you're filthy!"

  "Wait a minute—you did this to me!"

  "Wait here."

  Instantly, she was at the door of a nearby home. She asked for and received use of a broom—an old fashioned, handmade, witch’s broom.

  "Hey, you're not planning to use that on me?"

  "Hold still. Lift your arms."

  Tattie began to swat at him, knocking off the dried and crusted mud that still clung to his uniform.

  "Easy, that stings!"

  She swatted him hard on the butt. "Stop crying."

  Chapter 9

  Teaoh Tarnus

  Cris and Tattie walked through the hamlet of Aldeya toward the home of Tattie's teaoh. Cris was not surprised at his Viking-looking hut; but its three-and-a-half meter tall door did take him aback. At each corner of the abode were large, burning torches which cast a flickering, yellow light all about the cabin. A block of wood hung from a rope next to the door, and on the door frame was a square of metal, ornately engraved with images of swords, arrows and spears. Tattie knocked on the metal plaque with the block of wood.

  The door was opened by a man two meters tall. He was bare-chested and built like Adonis. His hair, too, was pulled back and braided, and like Tattie's, was black, save for a swath of gray at each temple. He also possessed the large, green eyes as did all Geldneth people. In the jumping amber light of the flames, Cris could see the man's body was heav
ily scarred.

  When he spoke, his voice was deep and booming. "Tattie? By the horn of Nether, girl, I've not seen you in a second Moon, where—" His gaze fell upon Cris. The levity left his voice. "What have you there, girl?" he asked in a droll manner.

  "Teaoh, allow us entrance and we will tell you a story."

  The man looked hard at Tattie, and then turned to face Cris, his great eyes scanning him intently. "No one not of my people may enter my home bearing rama." He held out his hand. A heartbeat lapsed, then Tattie elbowed Cris hard.

  "Oh—rama, yes, okay." Cris reached into his pocket and, as he withdrew the pistol, he depressed the magazine release. The mag and its ammo remained in his pocket. Cris handed the man his empty weapon.

  "Enter, and be welcome," the giant invited, halfheartedly.

  They entered the cabin, and as the man closed the door, the room was plunged into near total darkness. Only the pale light from the setting sun and the torches outside provided any illumination at all through the few small windows. Cris stood still, fearful he would trip over something or someone.

  "You," the man said, "sit yourself."

  "I'm sorry, but—"

  "Teaoh," Tattie interrupted, "he does not see as we do. At this moment, he is blind."

  Great hands gripped Cris's shoulders and guided him to a chair. Cris sat. The man then moved away. Cris heard the sound of breaking wood. Shortly, a fire erupted in the stone fireplace. He then lit two candles and handed one to Tattie, who placed it on a table behind her. The man placed his candle behind him, then lit a third candle. This one, he placed on a plate and handed to Cris.

  "Can you see now?" he asked, in his low bass voice.

  "Yes, sir, thank you."

  "What is sir?" the man asked.

  "Where I come from, the word 'sir' is a respectful way that two men address one another when neither knows the other's name," Cris answered.

  "Ah. Is that so?"

  Tattie leaned toward Cris and whispered, "Introduce yourself—remember?"

  "Oh." Cris turned to face the man, lowered his head, and brought it up slowly. He made eye contact with the man and announced, "I am," he stood, only to find himself at eye-level with the seated giant, "Cris Salazar, Captain and astronaut."

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