by J Gurley
“I am Hramack, son of Kena of Ningcha,” he answered. “What happened?”
“We heard a noise and turned just in time to see you fall. You hit your head. You’ve been unconscious almost an hour. How is your head?”
He rubbed his head, which was already beginning to clear from the injection she had given him. It still ached, but his thoughts weren’t as fuzzy. He chuckled. “I’m getting used to it. What did you say you gave me?”
“A catecholamine,” she replied. “It will help focus your thoughts. Where did you say you were from? Not Denver Dome?”
Her pronunciation was clipped and strange, but he recognized catecholamine, an organic compound that produced sedatives from amino acids in the human body. It was a painkiller and a stimulant. Was she also a Healer?
“No, Ningcha is a small village three weeks’ journey from here. We came to restore the water to our village. Denver Dome is a dangerous place filled with Marauders.”
“Marauders? Yes, we’ve met them.” She shuddered. “Savage creatures. Are your people any better?” she asked coldly.
Hramack shot her an icy stare. “Of course. We are followers of Yarah, believers in peace. We farm and raise animals. The water stopped flowing, and we came here to restore it. The Marauders are scavengers and cannibals. We, too, have met them.” He spat on the ground.
“You said we. Where are the others who came with you?”
Hramack remained silent, cursing himself for letting slip that he was not alone. Did he dare trust these strangers with military titles, even if they were from the stars? “I will not tell you,” he replied.
“Okay, Hramack, son of Kena, if you insist, but you must come with us.”
“Why should I?” he demanded.
“Because we don’t know you and because I have this.”
She showed him something that resembled a weapon he had seen in old books, using explosive gunpowder to propel a metal projectile at great speeds to kill at great distances. He reached for his knife, but discovered only an empty scabbard. They had taken it from him while he lay unconscious.
“Is that a weapon?”
“Yes,” she said. “A laser. It projects a highly charged, coherent beam of light.”
“You would use it on me?” Hramack asked, astonished that someone advanced enough to travel between the stars would lower themselves to kill another human being. Then he remembered that until recently, he had believed himself incapable of killing. No longer.
“I do not want to. We are not your enemy, but I will not allow you or your friends to harm my companion or me. I will treat your injury, and then you will come with us.”
It seemed he had little choice in the matter. He might overpower one of them, but not both. He needed to learn more about these strange people and learn why they were here. He did not feel threatened by them, although he was certain she would not hesitate to kill him if he attacked them. He allowed her to dab his wound with a wet cloth and apply a small adhesive pad. He was surprised at how gentle she was after first threatening him with her weapon. Her hands were the hands of a Healer, like his. No, he reminded himself, gentler than his.
“There,” she said, smiling at him. “That should stop the bleeding. The cut was superficial.” She frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have any antibiotics. I used them all on Whitehall.”
Hramack searched the corners of the room for the third Star Person.
Noticing his gaze, she frowned and said, “He’s dead. So is Pegari.”
“I am sorry for your loss. May Yarah keep them. Are you a Healer?”
“A what? Oh, a medic. No, I know a little about first aid but not enough to save Whitehall.”
By her pained expression and the bitterness in her voice, he realized that she took full responsibility for her companion’s death. That showed compassion. “Even good Healers lose patients,” he said.
She turned away. “We must go now.”
They traveled down a side corridor, continuing to search lockers and cabinets for food. Hramack was amazed they had found edible food after so many years. Such preservation techniques would help his village. If they survived, he reminded himself bitterly. He wondered if the others had noticed his absence by now. They could easily follow his tracks on the dusty floor. In the meantime, he would learn all he could about the strangers from the stars.
After hours of wandering up and down countless side corridors and examining the contents of numerous rooms, Hramack began to realize just how vast the underground facility was. Cathi explained that she and Anderson had been exploring it for three days.
“It is a wondrous facility, almost a small city, but finding what we need is frustrating.”
Hramack almost told them about the control center they had found, but to lead them there would be taking them back to Kena and Grey Eagle. He needed to learn more about them first. She paused at a junction where one corridor sloped downward
and the other continued straight ahead. Hramack felt a light warm breeze blowing up the sloping one.
“That one leads outside,” he said. He hoped they took it. He was tired of the underground facility, no matter how fascinating.
To his consternation, she chose to continue straight ahead. “I don’t want to exit the mountain just yet.
Exploration of the straight corridor yielded nothing interesting, but to Hramack’s relief, when they opened the final door at the corridor’s terminus, they exited the mountain onto a large platform fifty meters above a valley floor different from the damned lake valley. Hramack decided that it was on the opposite side of the mountain from the lake, making the underground facility a vast complex of staggering proportions. He took a deep breath of fresh air, enjoying the slight dusty taste and the heat of the sun on his flesh before looking around. Flights of metal steps showing little sign of corrosion led down to ground level sixty meters below them. The outline of a vanished roadway ended at the mountain. Leaning over the rail, he saw a much larger entrance below them and slightly to one side.
“This heat is unbearable,” Cathi commented, staring at the sky and wiping the sweat from her brow. “How have your people managed to survive?”
“We live in stone houses protected from the sun by the overhanging cliffs of our canyon. We do not venture into the Burning Lands during the heat of the day unless necessary.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We have survived.”
Far to the east, Hramack saw the shining edifice that was once man’s last hope. Even broken and in ruins, Denver Dome was a great glittering jewel on the horizon. Its spires and towers, though crumbled by centuries of neglect and the ravages of nature, nevertheless dominated the horizon. It seemed such a waste that mankind could work together to build such massive structures, only to be defeated by the smallest and pettiest of emotions – greed and hate. If only human wisdom had grown as quickly as the ability to create, humanity would have survived the sun’s fury, and Earth would once again have become a beautiful world.
Perhaps it was not too late. He saw in the return of the Scattered Ones the opportunity to rebuild. In spite of their distrust of him, Hramack sensed a pride and goodness in these Off-Worlders that made him welcome their return. It was time Earth’s scattered offspring once again reunited to grasp their common destiny.
“There’s nothing out here to help us,” Anderson groaned. He leaned on the railing crestfallen, but jerked his arms back as the sunbaked metal seared his skin through his sleeves.
“We could explore the entrance below us,” Hramack suggested. Just as he spoke, a party of men strode from the entrance. He, Cathi, and Anderson backed away from the edge of the platform to avoid detection.
“Marauders,” Cathi said. Her voice betrayed her hatred of Marauders. Hramack wondered about her earlier encounter with them. He was surprised she had survived it. Perhaps her advanced weapon played a part. “I think it best we backtrack and search for a control room. There is nothing out here.”
Before they could reenter the mountain, loud s
houts below them drew Hramack’s attention. The group of men was now under attack by a second party more than twice their number. The smaller group took refuge behind a low, rocky wall, but some of the larger group was attempting to surround them. Cathi used a pair of field glasses to scan the two groups.
“Do you know any of them,” she asked, handing him the binoculars.
He looked through lenses more powerful than his father’s binoculars. Small numbers on the edge of his vision provided distance and elevation. By touching a button, the view zoomed until he could see their faces crisply and clearly, as if he were standing among them. They were far superior to the simple lenses of his father’s crude pair.
He recognized men dressed much like the ones who had attacked them at Colorado Springs, well-armed and eager for battle. Then he moved to the second, smaller group, surprised to see Grey Eagle standing tall in the middle of the melee, swinging his knife at two Marauders. Two of Nuevo Pueblans were already down, one dead and one injured, but he could not tell who they were. He searched the group frantically but could not find his father.
“They are my friends,” he said. “My father is down there somewhere. I must help him. There are too many Marauders. Please, let me go,” he pleaded.
He waited impatiently as Cathi and Anderson exchanged glances. Anderson looked at the struggle below and nodded his agreement. “We’ll help,” she said.
“Thank you,” Hramack said; then, raced down the steps to aid his father and friends.
*
Kena awoke to Grey Eagle’s urgent voice asking, “Where has your son gone?”
Kena’s sleep-deprived mind snapped into focus upon mention of Hramack.
“I don’t know,” he answered, throwing off his blanket. “Perhaps he couldn’t sleep,” he added, though that did not seem likely given everyone’s physical exhaustion. “How long has he been gone?”
“Perhaps two hours, maybe a little longer. Hawk saw him pass, but thought he was simply going to relieve himself. He did not return before the guards changed. We should search for him. I feel danger near.”
Trusting Grey Eagle’s instincts, Kena quickly gathered up his and Hramack’s belongings and joined the others, who were already waiting for them on the catwalk. In the next room, they found evidence that Hramack had indeed gone that way. His tracks were everywhere on the dusty floor, as were a second set of boot prints.
Kena tried not to read too much into the second set of tracks. The tracks may have already been there, and Hramack had decided to follow them, but concern for his son’s safety quickened his steps. To his dismay, a short distance down the corridor, both sets of tracks disappeared.
“They are trying to cover their tracks,” Grey Eagle said.
Kena was not as certain. The entire floor was not only dust free, but polished as well. It seemed unlikely anyone would go to so much trouble to conceal their tracks, but he trusted Grey Eagle’s judgment. It was better to be wary. Farther along, they came upon a line of doors along one side of the seemingly endless corridor. Searching each one, they discovered only empty rooms and more corridors. In one room, amid a pile of metal pipes, one of Grey Eagle’s men spotted dried blood on the floor. Kena’s heart twisted in his chest as he knelt beside the blood.
“There is very little blood, nor is there a body,” Grey Eagle pointed out. “If it is indeed Hramack’s blood, he is alive.”
Kena picked up a small cylindrical object and sniffed it. “This smells of medicine.”
“Strange that they would wound, and then comfort.” Grey Eagle said.
“Yes,” Kena agreed.
They followed the main corridor, deeming it the most likely way Hramack would have gone. As they continued, the temperature slowly increased, indicating they were nearing an outside exit. Kena hoped Hramack had merely ventured outside exploring. The alternative was too terrible to contemplate.
The corridor divided, with one branch continuing straight, and the other sloping downwards. Both were free of dust and footprints.
“We should not divide our forces,” Grey Eagle said. “A slight breeze blows up this sloping corridor. Which way would Hramack have gone?”
“Alone, he would have chosen the downward slope. If captive, I don’t know.”
Grey Eagle decided. “We take the one leading to the outside first. If we do not find him, we will return and take the other one.”
The corridor continued for nearly a kilometer. By then, dust began to reappear on the floor, and they knew Hramack had not gone that way. As eager as Kena was to continue the search for his son, he could see the urge to breathe outside air straining the men’s faces. To them, the underground labyrinth was too much like the river tunnel. The temptation to see the sun once again was too strong to ignore.
The corridor ended in a cavernous room whose massive door was open to the searing heat of the day outside. A breeze carrying the familiar flinty smell of sand and dust blew through the door driven by the heat. Various pieces heavy machinery lined the walls of the room, some wheeled, and some with metal tracks. The rubber tires had long ago rotted away, and a thick layer of dust coated their surfaces, but the metal was corrosion-free, looking almost as if they would start up if supplied with a fresh power source. A few had wide metal blades on the front end. Others had buckets with metal teeth for digging. One, larger than the rest, had a rectangular front end in which hundreds of rotating blades were mounted.
“I believe these were used to construct the corridors.”
Grey Eagle ignored the equipment and studied the dusty floor of the garage. “I see many tracks but none matching Hramack’s or the second set of boot prints.” He turned to Kena. “We should go back. There have been many men here recently, probably Marauders.”
He motioned to his men, and they began to retrace their steps. Kena stopped him.
“Should we not investigate? If Marauders are nearby, we do not want them catching us unaware.”
Grey Eagle reconsidered. It was obvious he did not want to risk his men. “We will reconnoiter,” he said. He warily eyed the open area outside the garage door.”But only for a short distance.”
They exited into a wide valley formed by two mountains, broken by a series of heavily eroded low ridges ending in rows of rocky spires, many of which performed natural feats of balance with large boulders perched atop skinny stone or precarious stacks of rock.
“This must have been a monumental task,” Kena said, “almost as daunting an endeavor as building the domes.”
Grey Eagle glanced at the mountain towering above them and growled, “Neither dome nor mountain concern me as much as our invisible enemy. I feel their presence as an itch I cannot scratch.”
Without warning, a flight of arrows erupted from the rocks a short distance away and landed among them. One man, an uncomplaining, happy-go-lucky youth named Moon Smiles Down, fell with an arrow protruding from his chest. Kena started towards him, but Grey Eagle grabbed him by the collar and half-dragged him to a nearby low wall of rocks. An arrow also struck a giant named Strong Arm and knocked him down, but he ignored the shaft protruding from his arm and quickly regained his feet.
“He is dead,” he told Kena. “There is nothing we can do for Moon Smiles Down. As much as I detest the idea, we must seek the shelter of the mountain. There is no cover here.” He motioned his men to make a run back into the mountain, but as they began their retreat, more Marauders appeared from inside the massive door. Now, their enemy lay between them and their goal.
“They must have been hiding in one of the smaller corridors we passed. It’s a trap. Back to the wall,” he screamed.
Seeing Kena safely behind the wall, Grey Eagle waded into a group of Marauders who had converged on one of his men and succeeded in carrying him to the ground with their massed weight. He grabbed one assailant by the arm, spun him across the ground, and then attacked another with a savage swipe of his knife. Unfortunately, he was too late to save Bright Eagle, who lay bleeding from numerous knife w
ounds to his chest. Grey Eagle swore an oath at the top of his lungs and began hacking his way through the attackers like a crazed demon.
His men were afraid to fire arrows for fear of hitting him. Out of the corner of his eye, Grey Eagle noticed several Marauders attempting to make their way behind them, encircling them.
“Behind you,” he screamed. No one could hear him over the noise of battle. Just as it seemed the battle was lost, the ground nearby erupted in a great geyser of dirt and rock, scattering his attackers. This gave him the opportunity to reach his companions behind the wall.
“What was that?” Kena yelled in his ear.
Before Grey Eagle could respond, Hramack and two oddly clad strangers appeared from behind a large boulder and began running towards them. The woman in blue with Hramack carried an odd weapon in her hand. At first, Grey Eagle considered ordering one of his men to shoot her just to be safe, but Hramack appeared unconcerned. Suddenly, she raised the weapon and fired. A searing bolt of light burst from it and shattered the ground in front of a group of Marauders, bowling them over like in a game of ten pins. Using the distraction to cover their movements, Hramack and his two companions scrambled over the low wall to join them.
“Hello, Father,” Hramack said, gasping for breath after his long run. “These are Star People come to help.”
“Star People?” Kena asked, astonished.
“I will explain later. The Marauders are trying to surround you. The woman, Cathi Lorst, has an energy weapon. You’ve seen it?”
“A truly remarkable weapon,” Grey Eagle said, still eyeing the two strangers with distrust.
“I’m afraid it’s almost useless now,” she interrupted. “The power cell is almost drained.” She studied Kena closely. “You are his father, the Healer?” she asked.
“I am Kena. Welcome to Earth,” he offered his hand. “Welcome home,” he added. “Are all Star People as beautiful as you?” he asked. She flushed at his compliment. “I’m flattered. I’m considered rather plain. I haven’t washed my clothes in ten days. If we get the opportunity, I’ll clean up, and then you can decide.”