Havashaw stood steadfast, his facial cheeks tightened, and his eyes narrowed. He darkened his voice and warned, “You know it will not be that simple, Lord Tannador. This will go my way.”
An electric tension filled the air. The Orlander men picked targets; their weapons at the ready. Though they had been rousting slaves and rebels, the Orlanders had yet to come up against another trained force of men. Hek’Dara was backed into a corner and with little choice left to him he called, “Officer Martin!”
The brash young officer sprung from behind the sealant crates, he fired his weapon killing the two men standing behind Havashaw.
From out of nowhere a blast tore into Hek’Dara’s shoulder; blood splattered over his face. Martin grabbed him. The two dove behind some of the crates, weapons fire filled the warehouse. The Anders security men held the upper hand; Hek’Dara watched the men placed along the catwalk. They chose their targets. Through a crack between the crates he saw the Orlanders fighting their way back toward the entrance.
Martin applied a liquid bandage to Hek’Dara’s open wound. He placed a hand on Hek’Dara’s uninjured shoulder drawing his attention and said, “The medicine in the foam will prevent the injury from becoming infectious.”
Hek’Dara looked at his crimson stained robes. He heard more weapons fire and screams throughout the warehouse. He couldn’t tell if they were his men, or the Orlanders dying.
“We can’t allow them to get off the station sir, they’ll call for reinforcements,” Martin said recharging his plasma weapon.
“Do whatever you need to, to keep them from escaping. But I want Havashaw unharmed; I don’t care what happens to his men.” Hek’Dara didn’t want the death of a high-born on his mind. Then it occurred to him, was he always so dismissive of others he didn’t care what happened to them. Disciplining a servant or a slave was one thing… but to see them die. Have I become as hardhearted as Da’Mira claims? The weapons fire increased. Hek’Dara stood; a sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him of his wound.
“I’ve placed men on the docking platform when they reach that area I’ll have them cut down, Milord.”
“No wait…” Hek’Dara didn’t understand the conflict in his decisions.
“Sir?”
“If they reach the landing platform try to capture them, give them a reason to surrender.”
“Surrender, Milord?”
“That’s what I said. We need to…”
An insurgence of weapons fire rained down on Hek’Dara’s position. Orlander security men poured in on an offensive. Martin pushed Hek’Dara down to the floor when plasma blasts cut away at their sealant crate cover.
Martin raised his rifle and fired. “They’re overwhelming us.” He sounded surprised. “Push them back,” Martin shouted but the heavy gunfire drowned his command.
Hek’Dara stood. The wrenching in his back reminded him of his age. Determined not to die, he took up position next to Martin. From the other side of the crates Havashaw shouted commands. “For so few of men, they are doing a damn good job overpowering us!” Hek’Dara shouted.
“They are well trained. I’m not surprised,” Martin replied.
“Here they come,” Hek’Dara yelled. He clenched his jaw and waited for the inevitable.
The watcheye alarm sounded. It blared through the warehouse.
“I thought you said your dampening field took care of the watcheye,” Hek’Dara said.
“It must have broken through the jammer,” Martin replied.
– Standby for an announcement, the voice of the watcheye blared throughout the station.
Gunfire stopped. The Orlanders backed away.
Hek’Dara ordered the Anders security men to stand down.
– I repeat standby for an announcement.
In seconds, Avery Lexor’s voice broadcasted from the watcheye, and commanded, “Fighting is to cease this moment between the Anders and Orlander security forces. The watcheye is operational.”
“You don’t have authority to speak for your mother,” Havashaw yelled and shook his fist toward the watcheye.
Hek’Dara stepped out from the cover of the sealant crates.
“Milord,” Martin pleaded.
“My mother is dead. Not more than an hour ago. I am heir of Watchtower and the ORACLE system. These hostilities are to stop now, and all families of the Union are to meet at Watchtower within the hour. No further sanctions are to be imposed on the family Tannador until further notice.”
Havashaw glared from across the warehouse. He motioned to his men without saying a word. His troops withdrew.
Hek’Dara forgot about the pain in his shoulder. His thoughts were on his plant. Shipments needed to continue. No one needed to know of what happened here, though he was certain it would all come out when the Union met. “Martin, see to your men. I want to know how many we have injured or… or killed. I’ll make sure their families are given restitution for the sacrifice.”
Martin’s face weighed heavy and he said, “That won’t be necessary Milord. All of us are first generational.”
Hek’Dara looked at the security force and couldn’t believe what Martin told him. “You mean you’re slaves?” he asked shocked.
“We are free – the family Anders gave us all freedom.”
Hek’Dara gave Martin a wry smile and waved him on to his duties. The thought of slaves defending a high-born and his property boggled Hek’Dara’s mind. All his life he watched a great divide between the upper class and those who serve them. To witness that divide, lessen humbled him.
Da’Mira’s words echoed in his mind. All her life she seemed to be the odd person among her peers. She spoke of freedom and equality; she broke laws and tempted fate. Her words had fallen on deaf ears and she refused to give up. It took bloodshed for Hek’Dara to understand what his daughter preached all her life. Then it came to him. His understanding of her plight – even though it’d been there the entire time – he just refused to see the outcome. Afraid of what might be lost.
Man – that marvel of the universe. Da’Mira’s goal wasn’t to make her peers understand what she was saying. Her words were for Hek’Dara. If the one person she could convince was her father, then perhaps there would be hope for everyone else.
North America Wasteland
The Tribe of the Free
April 21, 2442
Colin McGregor’s eyes ached. Not just the eyeballs, but every part of his eyes throbbed. The sockets, the lids – everywhere – the incredible pain seared across his temple. Unable to focus on his thoughts, he reached up to find his eyes bandaged. He tore at the wrap around his head, but he couldn’t find the end.
His hands shook, his heart raced and sweat drenched his entire body. What – what’s happening?
Colin reached out and searched around him. Bed, I’m on some kind of bed… or cot… or. He swung his legs over the side of the bed when his feet touched the cold floor he realized he no longer wore his boots. When he stood, he discovered his boots weren’t the only thing he wasn’t wearing. Naked, blind and unsure of his surroundings, he stumbled ahead. His legs were shaky, and he tumbled forward and landed against a wall. Touching it and rubbing his hands over the smooth surface he reached out to see how far the wall spread. With a push off Colin stood, dizzy he tried to focus. Blinded he still had other senses
With a deep breath, the odors of peat moss and jasmine filled his nose. Colin followed the smell and turning toward the strongest point of the aroma took slow steady steps; his hands stretched out in front of him; he moved forward and bumped into furniture – stubbed the big toe on his left foot and danced a jig. The sharp pain climbed up his leg. He bumped a table; something fell off and broke on the floor.
Colin stumbled backward and landed against another wall. He used it to steady him. He took a deep breath. From the silence footsteps approached. Colin held his breath and listened. Floorboards creaked and popped. He stood up straight, said, “Hello?” No answer followed.
He glided
his hands along the wall and walked ahead. Again, he stubbed the big toe on his left foot. He gritted his teeth together, his bandaged eyes watered. Ahead of him he found a set of stairs. His hands in front of him he discovered a railing. He climbed the stairs using it to steady his ascent. When he reached the top of the run he found… a door.
He gripped the knob and turned – the strong peat moss and jasmine odors engulfed him when the door opened. More sound of footsteps drew Colin’s attention; again, he called out, “Hello?”
The footsteps stopped.
Colin walked forward. “Is there anyone there?” He froze when a young girl screamed, followed by the sound of small feet running away from him. “I won’t hurt you,” he said. Yes, that’s right – this naked blind man won’t hurt you at all. He thought.
Colin rushed ahead and tripped, doing a nose dive into the hardwood floor. Splinters filled the palms of his hands. He let out a scream under his breath, not wanting to frighten the child – not that he hadn’t done that already. The shock from the shards of wood buried under his skin and Colin grimaced from the pain.
“There mother, there he is,” a child called out in broken English dialect.
Colin raised his head.
“Don’t move,” a woman, using the same type of rough English warned.
“Where am I?” Colin asked.
“He sounds funny,” the child said.
“Quiet, Veranda.”
“Can… can you help me?” Another sharp pain throbbed behind Colin’s eyes.
“I might,” the woman replied with a skeptical tone.
Colin tried to stand.
“I said don’t move.”
“I’m hurt… my eyes are…”
“I know about your eyes. They’re burned. We treated them the best we could and wrapped them to help heal.”
“Look, I would like to stand –”
“I imagine you would. But you’re naked as the day you were born. And my eleven-year-old daughter has seen enough of your manhood.”
Colin didn’t have time to be embarrassed, and said, “I’m sorry, but if you could find someone to help me. I’d like the chance to look more presentable and thank those who pulled me from the ship.”
“Veranda, go find your grandfather, tell him to hurry here. You stay with nana.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Is she gone, can I stand?” Colin asked.
“I’ve no desire to see your manhood either, stay where you are until my father gets here?”
“Despite our language barrier, we seem to understand one another well enough.”
The woman approached; her footstep soft, catlike. “We speak the new tongue and you speak the old. But we’re taught to understand them both.”
“English?”
“What is English? I have learned the language the same as my father, and his father before him. The words used since the time of the passing.”
Colin tried to understand what the woman said. Where am I? By the sound of the woman’s voice Colin knew he wasn’t in Europe anymore. He remembered Lord Langland telling him of the Americas. The great wasteland that saw most of the environmental devastation and the fires that scorched the lands before the high-born abandoned the planet.
“What do we have here?” a harsh voice asked when he entered the room.
“He got up on his own father. I thought it might be best if you were here to help me with him.”
“Can – can we talk about this after I’m off the damn floor?”
The deep voice man roared with laughter. “Not shameful about his nakedness, is he?”
“I’ve seen his cock, it is impressive,” the woman said.
Fuck – “I’m laying right here.”
“Maybe you’re wrong, he has humility,” the man said before he reached down and took hold of Colin and picked him up.
Colin landed in a cushioned seat; he placed his large hands over his exposed groin.
“I will get some warm water,” the woman said, her voice faded.
“My Lori is mending your clothes. We’ll have them for you by tomorrow,” the man said.
“What about my sword?”
“Sword?”
“Aye, a broadsword, it would have been close when you found me.”
“There was no such thing found with you,” the man assured him.
Colin winced. The thought of losing the generational sword tore at him. The last thing his father gave him, the weapon meant more to him than his own life. Chances were, he would be the last one to own it, since he didn’t think he’d ever be a father. Colin wouldn’t be satisfied until the broadsword once again hung on his back.
“Rest son, we will go look for your sword once you are well.”
His fingers outlined the bandage on his face, Colin asked, “How long will I need to wear this?”
“It might be awhile before you’ll be able to see.”
“Don’t give him hope,” the woman said. She touched Colin on the arm. “The truth is we don’t know.”
“Are you saying I might not see again?”
“I’m saying we all must live with burdens. Good, bad – no matter the outcome.”
Colin could tell by the woman’s breathing she held something back. Her voice fluttered. The pitch changed when she spoke of his wound. He didn’t press the matter. Never seeing again scared the hell out of him. He thought of his clan, the people he left behind.
“Sit still, I’ve brought bath water to clean you,” the woman explained.
The broken syntax of his rescuers still baffled him. He wasn’t near Scotland – he could be on the other side of the world, never to see his home again.
Colin jumped when the warm water hit his dry skin.
“Don’t worry, I’ve seen a naked man before,” the woman said.
“My pardon, you just startled me is all,” Colin said embarrassed. He shifted his legs to hide certain parts of his body.
The woman giggled. “Did you hear that? I startled him.”
“Aroused might be the correct word,” the man barked out a laugh.
Colin tried to put faces with the voices of his two advocates. He imagined the woman with long downy hair and large doe eyes that sparkled like sapphires. He tried to visualize her lips, wondering if they were full or thin, if they were vapid, or did she apply some kind of color to them. Colin never met a woman as beautiful as he could envision. He always thought a woman couldn’t live up to his expectations of what he considered attractive. He never considered himself a prize for any woman. Far from unattractive, Colin thought no woman would find it in their heart to love him. He’d been a loner all his life, never having time for things like a wife or a family. He’d had sex with many women, but he loved none of them.
As for the man with the rough voice, all he saw was his father’s face, though the man sounded nothing like his dad, his father had a trusting face. With a sharp rigid nose and deep insightful eyes. Colin trusted his father and somehow, he knew he trusted the man with the rough voice.
“Can you tell me where I am?”
“Where you are, is inside my home,” the woman said as she continued to wash Colin.
“And where is that home located. What is it called?”
The man spoke up, “You are in the Cheyenne.”
“The Cheyenne?” Colin had never heard of the Cheyenne. Not in Scotland, he thought. “Are there many people here?”
“Why would you want to know?”
“It would appear that I might be here for a very long time, and I should learn everything I can if I am to live here.”
“Why would a high-born want to live here?” the woman asked.
Colin rose in his seat. “High-born? I am not a high-born! Did I wear clothes of a high-born?”
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” the woman snapped. She placed her hand on Colin’s chest and pushed him back into the seat.
“Why would you think I’m a high-born?”
“Your ship… it’s a
high-born craft,” the man said with a lilt of skepticism in his voice.
“Well I’m not one of them.”
The room fell silent.
“I’m sorry son,” the man said.
“What do you know of the high-born?” Colin asked; his voice calm.
“What everyone knows,” the woman said.
“Which is?”
In a downtrodden voice the man said, “They killed the mother spirit of the land. Century after century they raped the resources of this planet. And after destroying the Earth the high-born moved to orbit and now use it as a trash dump for their waste. Until man abandons Earth, it will never heal.”
It’d never been explained to Colin in such away. Then he remembered something Lord Langland told him long ago. “My clan chieftain once told me that the Earth is like a great protector. It provides for us, nourishes us and cradles us in its loving arms. But we forsook that love. In no time of man have we been so ungrateful. We don’t deserve it anymore.”
“True words,” the man said.
“Might I ask your names?” Colin inquired.
“I forget myself. I am Norvene Sheppard. I am a leneer here.”
Leneer… leader… Colin still fought with the broken language pattern.
“My daughter is Avara Sheppard.”
“Rodan,” Avara said her tone sharp.
“I’m sorry daughter. Her husband Chapel died a few days ago. She is still in mourning.”
“I’m sorry.”
Avara touched Colin’s forearm and said, “You’ve lost someone too…”
Colin turned toward her voice, said, “Yes, my sister… but she’s not dead. At least I don’t think she is and I hope to find her again someday.”
“You will.”
Norvene cleared his rough voice and spoke up, “Avara, we are forgetting ourselves. We haven’t asked our visitor his name.”
At ease, Colin relaxed. Something he hadn’t been able to do for a long time. To be at ease with two people whose faces he’d not seen meant a great deal to him. A weight of mistrust had lifted from his shoulders. He took an easy breath and said, “My name is Colin McGregor.” He felt another soft touch from Avara.
Origin Expedition Page 23