I assumed he had another secret entrance to it, much like the lush planet we’d found Polvertan on. When I’d asked him, his lips had sealed as he shook his head, denying it. I figured if I gave him some time and acted as an ally, he’d come around and share the contents with me. I had a distinct feeling I was going to need his assistance in the coming years, especially with Lom returning.
I realized I was blankly staring at the portal table, and I activated it, sending myself awash with white light. I appeared in the room under the Giza pyramid and was quickly greeted by an armed guard. Things were tighter in the security department around Earth since Frasier had tried to destroy the planet, but the colonies were thriving, from everything I’d seen.
Part of me wished I could be more involved on Earth, but Paul and the other leaders were doing a great job, and I was happy to leave it to their capable minds. I greeted the guard, making small talk. Her name was Sally, and we’d met a few times before. I asked how her kids were, she asked after mine, and soon I was above ground, finding it was late in Egypt. The air was dry, the moon high and bright on the clear evening.
I was privileged enough to have my own transport shuttle parked near the portal here, and I walked to it, my gaze drifting to the floating structures the Bhlat had left behind. It had been some time since I’d spoken with the Empress, and I wondered how she was doing. A few of her people still lingered here on Earth, but for the most part, they’d evacuated, returning to their homeworld or one of the other countless colonies they’d accumulated in their violent expansion.
The shuttle opened as I pressed my code into the outer keypad, and I powered it up, feeling my nerves climb up my spine. I couldn’t pinpoint why my discussion with Fontem had me so on edge, but something about it had set off warning bells. I had to return to my house. I needed to see it.
I guided the shuttle into the sky and began my trip to our farmhouse in middle America.
Nine
“Sprites. Is that some kind of insect infection?” Mary asked Awali.
“No. Not a parasite, as such. They eat our crops, hunt our people,” Awali said, her fear evident across her face. Her slight mouth drooped, her button nose sniffled.
“Where? Are they nearby?” Dean asked, his hand lingering at the gun strapped to his suit.
“Not here. But close enough. They have destroyed a third of the Penatrim this growing season. We tried to stop them, but they’ve killed twenty of our people. We have no defense,” she told them.
So this was why the Tedaus people had agreed to meet with the Alliance. It was beginning to make sense. They needed protection, and the Alliance needed the crops. It seemed like a mutually beneficial relationship.
“We can help you with that,” Jules’ mother assured the waif of a woman. Jules wasn’t surprised the Tedaus needed their assistance. The race was tiny, and from what she’d seen so far, they were extremely lacking in the technology department, but they did speak to plants, and that in itself was an impressive trait. She wondered if Regnig had ever come upon these people. She wished the little bird man was there with them. He’d know what to ask.
Relief flooded Awali’s entire demeanor. “If you help us, we will give you the rest of this year’s crops and negotiate a fair trade for next year.”
Jules thought this was a little heavy. It spoke of desperation, and she was instantly on alert. Exactly how bad were these Sprites?
“That seems like too much, Awali. We’re not here to take advantage of you. The Alliance would like to welcome the Tedaus to join our council, to be partners with our growing collaboration of worlds. You would always have protection then, and we would only seek to trade what you’re able to offer without risking your own people’s health and well-being,” Mary said with grace.
Jules appreciated the candor her mother took with the woman, speaking to her like an equal. Some might have come in here, sending the fear and anxiety over the Sprites, and trapped the Tedaus, but that wasn’t what her mother or the Alliance was about. It was good to have someone to believe in.
“If you rid us of the Sprites, we will join your Alliance and match your terms with open arms,” Awali said slowly in perfect English.
“Very well. Show us where they are,” Mary said.
“Now?” Awali asked.
“No time like the present.”
Jules glanced to the red star, feeling like the color was an omen. It cast a crimson gloss over the golden fields, and she suddenly saw blood over the crops, gallons and gallons of it. She could almost smell the iron inside her suit. Her heart pumped so hard, her eardrums ached. Her eyes pressed closed, and she faltered, Dean there to catch her with a strong arm.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
Jules blinked her eyes open; the beating subsided. “I’m fine.” She shrugged his hand off and saw her mother and the Tedaus communicator hadn’t noticed her slip-up. They were deep in discussion, and she hardly heard what they said as her gaze wandered to the outer edge of the crops. In the distance, a couple of miles down the hill, she saw the line of trees clinging to a rocky cliffside.
Dean leaned in, his helmet hitting hers. “You think these Sprites are located there?”
She nodded in reply.
“I don’t like it. They’re really scared of these things. They’ve killed twenty of the Tedaus already.”
Mary and Awali had started the return from the crops but continued their intense conversation. Jules followed them, staying far enough away to avoid being overheard. “It seems too easy.”
“What does?” Dean asked, plodding along behind her through the parted wheat-like stalks.
“Everything. Mom seems to think we can outwit these Sprites, but we know nothing about them. Maybe we should call for backup. Get Slate and Loweck, at least.” Jules wished her dad was there too, but he was the captain of the ship and had more important things to do.
They exited the crops, finding closer to two hundred of the locals gathered around. They separated like the wheat had, allowing them passage toward the barn-like building beyond.
Jules caught up to her mother and Awali, catching some of their conversation.
“We’d love to see your facility and processing, Awali,” her mom said.
They arrived at the barn, and the sheer size of it surprised Jules. When she’d first seen it, it looked big, but now that they’d made the ten-minute trek to it, the structure was at least three times larger than she’d estimated.
It was made of wood, and she touched the door frame as they entered it. If it was huge to her, the barn must have been gargantuan to the tiny Tedaus people. A few of them were inside working. Stacks of the harvested crops lined the walls, and a group of four coverall-wearing locals banded some together, using a narrow rope.
“Maybe we can trade a few machines to assist them,” Dean suggested, but Awali paused at the offer.
“We have done things a certain way for thousands of years, and we have no interest in changing our ways. We are… tenacious, but also want to maintain our customs. I do hope you can appreciate this,” Awali said.
Mary nodded, and they all stared at the immense operation going on in the facility. Over one hundred square bales were stacked along the right edge, and four Tedaus carried another before setting it down and beginning a new row.
They spent the next hour learning about the harvesting, how they spoke to the Penatrim as they trimmed it by hand with the sharp blades. It all seemed quite time-consuming, but Awali assured them each of the Tedaus tasked with work in the fields loved what they did, as the others on their planet enjoyed their own tasks. Some provided fresh water; others gathered fruits from the jungles of a distant continent. Their world felt archaic, but Jules appreciated their concepts of care and awareness, as well as the intention they carried with them.
The industry of the planet seemed solely focused on food and water, a constant effort to stay alive. It wasn’t so different from everyone else, or each animal Jules had ever seen, inclu
ding Maggie, her cocker spaniel at home.
When they’d toured the entire barn operation, her mother stood at the exit, overlooking the valley of crops. “The Sprites, how long have they been a bother to you?”
“Always, but they have grown more brazen, unsatisfied with the offering we leave them,” Awali said.
“You give them food?” Jules asked.
“They need to live, as do we, so we provide food. Once each time the orb is full in the night sky.” Awali pointed to the pale shadow of a moon along the horizon.
“How much?” Mary asked.
“We give three bales.”
Jules glanced at the stacked Penatrim and judged that to be quite a bit of sustenance. She wondered what kind of beasts these Sprites were. Were they intelligent creatures? Did they process the crops, make flour from it, or were they a herd, happy to graze on grass?
“When did it change?” her mother asked, and Jules could see the way Mary was gently coaxing information from the woman.
“Last harvest. They came closer, and we hadn’t expected to be attacked. It had been years since one of our people had been killed by a Sprite, but five died that day. We’ve been more diligent, but have lost another fifteen since. They are dangerous. Thank you for helping us.” Awali’s stare was distant, settling on the rocky hillside where Jules had guessed their enemy hid.
“That’s where they live.” Mary pointed, saying the words as a statement, not a question.
“That’s where they live.”
“How many are there?” Dean asked.
“We don’t know. We’ve never ventured into the trees,” Awali said.
This was a surprise. “Never ventured into the trees?” Jules asked, using the mirror technique for negotiating.
“It is unsafe. They are much stronger than us, dangerous. We have blades, but we do not wish to harm anything. We struggle to kill our own crops.” Awali’s eyes were as big as saucers.
Kill their crops? Jules thought that was a strange way to look at things but dismissed it. She’d seen the way the field separated at Awali’s instruction, and it was clear there was more going on here than a normal farmer and their pastures.
“It sounds like the Sprites are fearsome creatures,” Mary said, labeling the woman’s fears.
“They are fearsome indeed.”
“Can you tell me what they look like?” Mary asked.
“I’ll show you.” Awali led them from the barn and toward the house. It was also made of solid wood and appeared to be the home of many Tedaus. There were a few lingering on the front porch, and Jules glanced up, seeing the building was three stories, with countless windows. Some of the locals peered down at them from the rooms above. From her estimation, it was more of a local tavern and inn than a home.
It smelled of burning wood as they entered the house, the three humans having to duck as they stepped through the short doorway. The ceilings opened up just enough so Dean didn’t hit his helmet on the beams inside.
They were in a kitchen, and two Tedaus were at a rustic stove, water boiling in a black pot.
“You’re going to show us the Sprites?” Mary asked, and the locals all froze, speaking at once. Awali said something in return, and they seemed to calm.
“Come.” She waved them into a sparsely-furnished room right off the kitchen. Everything was fashioned from the same dark wood, but done beautifully. Papa would appreciate the craftsmanship. She opened a drawer in a desk along the wall and pulled out a leatherbound book.
Awali opened it, thumbing through the thick pages quickly, stopping near the middle. She held it out, and Jules gasped. The drawing was hideous, the Sprites nothing like what her imagination had allowed. She’d pictured a slight creature, perhaps one with small fairy-dusted wings and a mischievous smile.
These were anything but cute. The image was done in some kind of charcoal, the lines rubbed slightly, but there was no mistaking the danger of the creature. They were hulking, arms too long, legs too thick, the heads tiny on broad shoulders.
“Is this picture accurate?” Mary asked.
Awali’s hand shook as she held the book, and she nodded. “It is a proper depiction.”
Jules gulped. “And there are how many?”
“Enough to terrorize us.”
“Let’s go see what we’re up against,” her mother said with resolve in her eyes.
____________
The trip didn’t take long, and as I headed west, the sun began to shine, almost making me feel like I was traveling in time. It was ironic, since I was returning home to check on my time-travel device. I wore my uniform, and I tugged on the collar, which was a little tight, as I lowered over the United States. I considered stopping at the New York colony but elected to keep moving. This was too pressing on my mental state, and I didn’t quite know why.
Another twenty minutes later, I was lowering to Ohio, finding my farmhouse as we’d left it. It had been a few months since we’d been here, and I was glad to see nothing out of the ordinary. The neighbors came and checked on things for me, and it was mid-winter. It was difficult to keep up with all the seasons on our different worlds, and I never remembered what time of year it was anywhere these days. Snow covered my land, but the driveway connecting it to the road was plowed.
Kelsie and her husband George did a wonderful job taking care of the property as well as our horses; we’d have to give them something extra special next time I went over there. I landed on the driveway instead of the pad, which had a good two feet of snow on it.
I didn’t have a jacket, so I hugged myself, running toward the house. I’d intended to go straight to the cellar around back but decided to find my coat first. After disarming the alarm system, I flicked the lights on and stopped in my tracks.
Someone had been inside my house.
I felt to my hip for a pulse pistol that wasn’t there. I slinked to the kitchen, grabbing a knife, and I quietly stalked through my home. The living room was devoid of people, but a few items were upended. I found more papers and drawers open in my office, and the bedrooms had been sorted through: not ransacked, but carefully searched. Someone had broken in, but hadn’t trashed the place. My heart raced as I moved through the rest of the home, seeing no one inside.
“Damn it,” I muttered. I had security on the home, but they’d bypassed it. Had the alarm been on just now? I tried to remember if it chimed as I’d entered, and couldn’t recall. I strapped a pulse pistol to me from inside a locked box under the bed and patted it, feeling slightly safer.
What had they been searching for? I tried to tell myself that it was random, but I didn’t think that was the case. After I was confident there was no lingering burglar on my premises, I threw on a wool jacket and walked to the exterior of the house. Snow fell from the late afternoon sky, obscuring the sunlight, and I used a key to open the wooden cellar doors. The padlock was closed, and that was a good sign. The system here would only allow me or Jules into the cellar, using our biometrics. If anyone else attempted to walk through the barrier, it would prevent them.
My confidence grew as I thought about this, until I saw a drop of blood on the step. I bent down, touching it. The blot was dark red, a muddy brown, even, and it was dried. There was more another foot ahead, and then another blotch near the doorway of the portal from Fontem’s collection. Someone had been inside, and if it hadn’t been Jules or me, who was it?
I took a deep breath and stepped through the portal, landing on the ship where I’d sent Lom twenty years into the future.
Ten
They walked the distance, rather than warning the Sprites of their arrival. It was over three miles, and by the time they neared the edge of the fields, Jules noticed her mother’s pace had slowed. She held a pulse pistol in her hand, and so did Jules, Dean opting for his favored rifle over the smaller weapon.
They were alone, and Jules couldn’t shake the feeling that they should have called for assistance. “Observe, record, report,” her mom had said, and Jule
s agreed. It was the Gatekeepers’ way. Only they knew there was a deadly enemy here, and Jules wanted to display caution.
Dean glanced at her from behind the tinted glass of his helmet’s mask, and she caught a smirk. He was nervous. He always tried to look tougher when he was scared, and she didn’t blame him. She always struggled to appear calmer than she felt at times like this.
Her mother lifted a hand, stopping them at the edge of the field. She spoke, her voice a whisper. “Awali said they come at night. We have two hours until the sun sets, so we have a chance to explore their home.”
“Is that a good idea?” Dean asked, shifting the gun in his grip.
“Yes.” Mary opened her pack and pulled out two insect-sized drones, sending them into the skies. They moved silently into the trees, and she crouched, hiding inside the crop, Jules following suit. Dean noisily lowered to his knees beside her. “We can watch the feeds from here, see where they live.”
The tablet showed images of the trees, the rocky hills, and eventually what looked to be an entrance into the caverns.
“Are we going to fight them?” Dean asked.
“We might have to. Only if necessary. Perhaps they’ll negotiate, like they once did. If they used to be content to take only three bushels every moon cycle, maybe they’ll be open to bargaining. We have to assume they’re intelligent creatures, and if they’ve grown greedier, there has to be a good reason. They may have expanded in population,” her mom said.
The sky above them darkened, and Jules frowned at that. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky. She peered up, wondering why the shadow. A hand reached for her, all knuckles and tendons. It gripped her head, lifting her from her hiding spot in the fields, and before she had a chance to react, it was galloping with its prize, carrying her toward the caves.
Jules heard her mother shouting behind them as pulse blasts cut into the ground around the Sprite’s fast-moving steps. The beast evaded the shots, and Jules clenched her jaw, her body aching from the pain of being jostled around like a rag doll.
The Survivors (Book 12): New Discovery Page 8