Timestar

by Robert George Mertens

  Frank opened up the speed a little on the hydropod, but it did little good. The chukers kept up with him, matching his speed. When he turned away from them, they turned to follow him. He tried going up a little. They went up. He tried going down. They followed.

  He kept this up for forty-five minutes, knowing that he must be coming close to shore soon. The chukers would be too big to go into the shallows. He had no idea how deep the water was, but it could not remain deep indefinitely. One of the chukers charged ahead and dodged in front of him. By this time, each had only about five to ten chukerbuks left on their bodies. But it was enough.

  Two chukerbuks came loose in front of him. He had noticed that they had a tendency to sink when they came loose, so he turned upwards. He slipped away from one of them, but the other snagged the pod. It took only a moment for it to reach his left outer thigh and dig in. And it stuck there. Pain seared its way through his leg and he nearly lost his hold on the pod.

  He struck at the thing with his fist, but it didn't budge. It was too small for the speargun. More than likely he would end up spearing himself if he tried using it. Then he saw the seabed coming up as he raced toward the shore. The chukers fell back, but the little chukerbuk remained firmly attached to his thigh. The seabed was still a good thirty meters down yet, but it became shallower every moment.

  The seabed was littered with rocks and what appeared to be something akin to coral reefs. More life abounded here, including chukers. But these were small, and though they gave him chase, they were unable to keep up with him. These too, had chukerbuks, only smaller. He easily outran this group. The seabed was about ten meters below him now and rising quickly.

  In another three minutes, he had closed on the shore and ran the hydropod right into the sand. He climbed up off the pod, the chukerbuk still clinging to his thigh. There appeared to be no disabling poison associated with this creature. It simply dug its claws in and hung on. Walking ashore and out of the water, the chukerbuk gave no way. The beach here was of white sand, with dense foliage within a few meters.

  Two natives appeared out of the foliage within moments after he stepped out of the water. One of them came up to Frank, stuck the chukerbuk with a stick with a short needle on the end of it and it dropped off his leg, onto the sand. It writhed for a few moments and then died. The same native pulled some ground-up plant out of a pouch he carried with him and placed it onto Frank's open wound. The other native introduced himself, but the translation processor did not seem to recognize the language.

  After a few minutes between them, Frank finally made out that his name was Garook and his friend's name was Barla. The skinsuit processor would eventually learn this new language as it heard more of it, but for now, Frank would have to just follow them wherever they went. They seemed to know his name and who he was, so he allowed them to lead.

  He dropped all of his scuba gear except the speargun and followed them, barefooted, into the jungle. He instructed his skinsuit processor to begin reforming the speargun back into an energy weapon. Frank was down to shorts and a utility belt, now, and would have trouble keeping up with these tough-footed natives who had walked these forests in their bare feet their entire lives. He would have to rely on the strength in the genes his ancient ancestors had provided when they walked barefoot through the forests and jungles of old Earth.

  Their bodies covered in a light fur, they had some measure of protection against the elements as well, while these well-meaning natives appeared to poke fun at the light sprinkling of hair on his partly naked body.

  The two natives tracked their way along paths that seemed unused for a long time. Perhaps these were animal trails. He was not sure, but they moved quickly and Frank had to breathe a little hard to keep up. The natives breathed even harder than he did. His body produced sweat through glands in his skin, which evaporated to cool him off. The natives had no such glands. They cooled off by breathing harder, exchanging hot breath for cool air. This elicited a shocked reaction from the two natives at the first stop.

  Evening was falling and when they stopped, they turned to see Frank covered in wetness. The two simply stared, slack-jawed at him as the wetness evaporated. In a few more moments, he was breathing somewhat closer to his normal breathing rate, while they were still huffing and puffing to rid themselves of excess body heat. The terrain was hilly and coming up on mountainous, so there had been plenty of streams from which to replinish lost fluids, although he had nothing to take along for carrying water.

  The two natives took off, signing to him that he should remain here at this spot until they returned. The spot appeared to be flat and somewhat protected, so he marked it in his memory and looked around for something to burn for a campfire. Kindling was plentiful, so he gathered it and used his energy weapon to start a small fire. The sun had not yet set, but it was cooling off quickly and he knew the night would be cold. Worse yet, he had nothing so much as even a blanket to keep himself warm. He would need a fire.

  When the two natives returned, they steered clear of the fire, a little wide-eyed at seeing what he had done. They had come back with arms full of food, an animal carcass and some native fruits and bulbs. They offered him some animal flesh and some of the fruits and bulbs to eat. He accepted whatever they offered and, to their astonishment, began cooking what they had given him over or in the fire.

  The meat was tasty, so Frank consummed it. Some of the bulbs were a bit too bitter for him, so he offered them back to them, but they refused, since it had been "burned" as far as they were concerned. The fruit was sweet, and he would need the energy in the morning, so he ate all they gave him.

  When they tossed out they animal's furry skin, he went off and grabbed it up, again shocking his traveling companions. The sun had set, but the campfire gave Frank light to see by as he used a sharp stick and heat from the fire to clean, dry and reshape the small animal skin into a sealable bag. This would serve him the next day as a means to store and carry water.

  The night began to get much cooler, so Frank threw some more kindling on the fire and used some of the sticks and wood-like materials he had gathered to form a tiny frame for a lean-to, just big enough for himself. He went to a nearby tree with large leaves and used them to line the lean-to, and then sealed off the sides so that the lean-to was open to the fire for warmth. Again, the two natives simply watched in astonishment as he did this.

  He made a soft bed for himself with a few more of the large leaves. This would also serve as protection against creepy-crawly creatures in the soil. The two natives merely laid down in sight of him and went to sleep. Frank made sure there was enough extra wood next to the fire so he would not have to go hunting it in the middle of the night when it died down, laid his head down and, exhausted from the day's tribulations, fell shortly to sleep.

  Several hours later he awakened to the cold night air with a chill. The fire was a small heap of coals, but not hot enough to keep him warm. He threw some of the firewood he had set the evening before and within a few minutes, it was burning nicely again. By morning the fire was out, the sun was up and he was famished and thirsty. Now he wished he had had the animal skin the day before so he could have water first thing.

  There was no camp to break. Frank grabbed up the animal skin bag he had made the night before and the three tramped off again. Garook and Barla did not go far before they began their hunt for breakfast. Frank stayed still and remained quiet as the two picked branches out of a nearby tree and within minutes, formed spears out of them. Then they climed into the trees and waited, grasping their spears as though they would lose them.

  In a few more minutes, something came rushing by in a blaze of speed that surprised Frank. It seemed to spy him and turned to run away, but it was down before it could get more than a few meters, with two spears sticking out of its flailing body. In a few more moments, it lay dead.

  Garook went off again as Barla motioned Frank to follow him. He showed Frank a leaf, and then reached down its stem, then into the
soil to pull up a small tuber. Frank began looking around for more of these, since it was one of the ones he liked. The two of them found several more tubers before Garook returned with an armload of nuts and berries. Frank gathered more kindling and firewood and made another fire.

  He cooked up some of the tubers and animal meat as Barla and Garook ate. They waited as he ate, and when he was done, he grabbed the new animal skin, cleaned and dried it and tucked it beneath his belt for future use. The three took off again, the two natives leading, and came upon a small stream within the first hour.

  Barla and Garook took their fill, drinking as much of the cool, clear water as they could. Frank did the same, but also filled his water skin. He understood that the two natives did not sweat as they trotted through the dense woods, so they did not lose much water from their bodies. But he did, and he needed the extra water.

  As they moved along, they gradually went higher and higher into the mountains, and the nights got colder. After four days, Frank had enough animal skins to make himself a cover to sleep under and keep him warm at night. The days were cooler too, but the trio moved quickly enough that he stayed warm from exertion. He was beginning to have difficulty breathing in the thinner air. His processor was also beginning to unravel the native language, convoluted though it seemed, and Frank was able to have rudimentary discussions with Garook and Barla.

  Frank estimated they were covering about twenty-five kilometers a day, as the crow flies, and after six days, had gone about 150 kilometers inland. By midmorning of the seventh day, they were walking through snow. Even Garook and Barla had slowed their pace to a walk, both panting hard to breathe the thin air as they climbed higher. Frank had fashioned himself a cloak and a crude pair of shoes from the animal skins he had collected, but did not wear the shoes until they had reached the snow. His feet had toughened over the past several days, and he did not expect the shoes to last very long in the rough terrain.

  By midday, they reached a pass in the mountains. Garook and Barla almost crossed it without a second thought, but Frank stopped to rest and enjoy the view.

  "You stop here?" came the translation from Garook.

  "I wish to rest and look," Frank replied.

  "Not good place to stop," Barla said.

  "Kulock see us. Kill us," Garook said.

  "Kulock?" Frank queried.

  "Not take us, like young," Garook said.

  "We old," Barla said, "they kill us."

  "Kulock… slave traders," Frank realized. His translator was getting better, but still was not quite up to its usual performance. Without a database to work with, it was taking too long. Apparently, no one on Iskol had ever bothered to learn and translate the original slave languages.

  "We rest… not long time."

  Frank took notice and decided to move along. By evening they were well into a lush green valley, where the climate was a bit warmer. The next morning they got up and went deeper into the valley, and the climate warmed even more. By midday, it was raining. Frank had long since removed his animal skin cloak and shoes, carrying them on his back in a makeshift backpack, but the rain was warm, so it was not bothersome.

  That evening, they trotted into a little village at the foot of a steep mountain next to a small clear river. The Relmish folk gathered around him, seemingly in shock and amazement at the sight of him. There were small huts nearby that seemed to blend into the local foliage. Frank suspected that the way they were made was intended as a deception to anything looking down from above. Clearly, they were huts, but from the sky, they would look like part of the forest.

  The village was comprised of no more than a hundred natives or so, and word seemed to spread quickly about his arrival. Within minutes of his arrival, a drum sounded. The natives redirected their gazes to the foot of the mountain, or rather, a cave at the foot of the mountain, and they cleared a path between him and the cave mouth. Frank waited, as did everyone else. In a few moments, another Relmish walked out of the cave, but this one did not look entirely like a Relmish. Relmish stood up tall, walking upright. This one walked bent over, as an old man would. But it was not an old man. And it wore a breechclout.

  None of the Relmish natives wore clothing of any kind. But this one did. The creature walked out of the cave and in a minute the hairy male was standing in front of Frank.

  "I'm Gronk. Guess ya had a pretty rough time getting' here, huh?" he said, in nearly perfect english.

  "You speak… english," Frank replied.

  "Yup."

  "Are you…"

  "Human? Yup. One of the very first," Gronk said.

  Twenty-Two

  The crew of the Butterworth had remained hidden at the black hole station while sending off drones to contact Net and look for Frank. It had been a while since the drones had been sent out and they were still awaiting a response. This had given them time to build more and better weapons and to reinforce the hull with matter that had been "mined" out of the black hole.

  In their last battle, the hull had been breached by a weapon that emulated a black hole, and they had been discussing means of detecting and protecting against such weapons. Unfortunately, the only thing they had come up with thus far was a similar weapon—one that they could use against the black hole people, should they be confronted by them again.

  They monitored the news, spread by starships ferrying cargo and people between star systems, and the bounty on them continued to rise, as did the number of governments looking for them. But there was also commentary on what might befall the poor souls that happened upon them, especially after the reports given by the captain and crew of the freighter they had rendezvoused with several weeks earlier.

  In previous reports, news about their skinsuits had been legendary, about a material so thin you could see through it, but so strong that it could withstand a direct hit from a proton gun, so subtle that it was almost undetectable, yet so advanced that it could filter out poisons, both in the air and in food. But now images traveled across star systems of Sandy and Michelle in the warsuits that they had worn while boarding the freighter bearing Trong, Mangle and Crush.

  These suits were not only plainly visible, but menacing and deadly-looking. Commentators and experts alike attempted to guess at what strength these new suits had. These were obviously made for battle, having armor plating and strength enhancement. Images of Michelle shoving aside crates that were known to have been massively heavy were replayed again and again. Other images of Sandy, shoving her fists through 10 centimeter-thick composteel, one of the toughest known materials in the galaxy, were also replayed and analyzed again and again.

  Finally, images of the Shadow Ship with its new modifications plainly visible told the people of the central galactic system that the people aboard the Shadow Ship were preparing for war. Early images were compared to the newer images, and battle consultants were interviewed, explaining what the new changes meant. Analyses of the battle between the Shadow Ship and the Okofani had revealed weaknesses in the Shadow Ship's battle systems, weaknesses that no longer existed, now making it the most formidable starship in the known parts of the galaxy.

  On many worlds, new battle cruisers were being built while new armies formed, all in preparation for war, in case the Shadow Ship was to return and attack their world. The Okofani were also building up. They remembered the beating they took at the hands of the Shadow Ship and they were not anxious for a repeat of that episode. Since the Shadow Ship's early disappearance after the first battle, the Okofani had been reinforcing their orbital complement with larger and more powerful cruisers and even several gigantic war stations. These would have nearly dwarfed the old Shadow Ship.

  But new images of the Shadow Ship revealed that its size had grown, now comparable in size to one of the Okofani war stations, but far stronger. The Okofani had used weapons that would shred most battleships the size of the Shadow Ship. These had merely impacted harmlessly on its hull. Of all the known races, no one had ever expected to see a time when they
would describe the Okofani as, "nervous." The Okofani knew, as did everyone else, that in their next encounter with the Shadow Ship, win or lose, their losses would be enormous.

  Suni stepped onto the bridge shortly after the return of the drone.

  "What news?" she asked.

  "Net knows where Frank is… at least, they know what world he's on," Paddy replied.

  "Oh?"

  "He's on Relm."

  "Where?"

  "The slave planet—where the Iskolians get their slaves from."

  "How in the hell… what's he doing there?"

  "Apparently, when he allowed the slaves to assist in his escape from Iskol, one of them replaced his orders, directing him to another ship. Our best intelligence tells us he was last seen in Relm City and hasn't been seen since."

  "He didn't leave on another ship? My God! He could be anywhere in the galaxy by now."

  "Net seems to think he's still on Relm."

  "But why? Why would he stay there?"

  "Probably to avoid capture. Where else would he go? It's a fairly undeveloped world, few cities, almost all forest or jungle. A body could easily get lost there."

  "Or killed."

  "There's also the slave rebellion to consider."

  "What slave rebellion?"

  "The one that's about to take place on Iskol. Net's been aggravating it, nudging it along, even manipulating public sentiment about slavery."

  "But why Frank?"

  "The slaves believe that he's the one who's supposed to free them. That's why they 'hijacked' him. Apparently, there is some Relmish shaman who fingered Frank as their savior."

  "Are they that gullible?"

  "I don't think so. He did it long before we ever came here. And when we finally arrived and Frank showed himself in public, the slaves seemed to know who he was right away."

  "And Net learned all of this?"

  "Net is spreading. It has almost complete administrative control over Iskol and has agents on thirty-three worlds. It takes orders from Frank and Frank alone. And since it hasn't gotten any orders from him lately, it's been following his last orders."