The Pathfinder Trilogy

by Todd Stockert

  Thomas nodded and rose to obey the suggestions. “I still can’t wait to talk with him,” he said, glancing over toward the man they had earlier rescued.

  “He’s really exhausted,” pointed out Adam. “I wonder what was going on before we showed up. The desert doesn’t seem to be the best place for him.”

  “Did you notice his vitals?” Thomas replied wryly. “I don’t think he’s eaten much in weeks. As for water, well he probably hasn’t had much of that either. I’ll create some for him in the morning.”

  “Yeah, you always were the generous, helpful one,” commented Adam dryly. He moved away from the fire and into the shadows, where it was easier for his enhanced night vision to watch the perimeter of the camp.

  Then he settled down again, prepared to wait out the long night.

  *

  A soft hand on his shoulder woke Thomas from an uncomfortable sleep. The campfire was a small pile of softly glowing embers by now, generating very little in the way of usable heat. But his defenses were active, keeping a minimal defensive shield in place that allowed him to stay warm. The still slumbering stranger had most of their blankets, which seemed fine given the circumstances. There was a brief moment of confusion until Thomas remembered where he was. When he finally did he glanced up at Adam’s shadowy features, already noticing the blinking red dot on his eye HUD. Why didn’t my implant wake me? he wondered silently. Apparently it’s not operating above minimum thresholds yet.

  “What is it?” he wondered quizzically, rising from his spot on the rocky ground.

  “It’s not human, whatever it is,” whispered Adam softly. “I think it’s an animal of some kind… a pretty large one or it wouldn’t show up as a possible threat.”

  “Look on the bright side. The more the merrier, right?”

  “Yeah sure.” Adam was already easing his body in the direction of the approaching intruder, holding ready the shield and sword that he had seized from the Roman soldier. “We don’t have enough juice for a fight, and I really am not looking forward to doing this the old fashioned way.”

  “It’s a possible threat,” emphasized Thomas cautiously, “probably tagged red because it is unknown.”

  His brother appeared genuinely annoyed. “All of the ancient texts list the Judean desert as a ‘vast and lonely wilderness’ in which Jesus banished himself for 40 days and 40 nights,” he observed. “So far we’ve run into a number of stragglers and desert hermits, a Roman army column more than 400 strong, three soldiers fighting an unknown stranger, and now this.” He shook his head and smiled with mild amusement. “As the saying goes, Grand Central Station is undoubtedly quieter at Christmas time.”

  Thomas closed his eyes for a moment, appearing to concentrate. “I think I know what’s going on.”

  “Sure you do.” Adam handed his brother the shield. “Here… you’re lowest on energy, so just keep this up in front of you if whatever this thing is chooses to attack. I’ll kill it with the sword and use the wrist guns as a last resort. Hopefully we can just scare it away by yelling or something.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Thomas’ eyes remained closed and he was standing perfectly still, deep in thought. The tone of voice genuinely started to concern Adam.

  “What are you doing Thomas?” he asked suspiciously, sticking the point of his sword in the ground and leaning on it as he watched his brother with growing interest. “You are doing something, aren’t you?”

  “I’m learning what we need to know… by reading and translating the thoughts of our guest,” the young scientist replied, “similar to what you did with the Kuth covert operative.”

  The comment caught Adam by surprise. “I thought we weren’t supposed to use that feature… in fact, I believe you were one of the people who told me not to!”

  “I’ve been experimenting with that function and have added protective filters. You can’t deny the fact that you gained valuable intelligence from even a brief connection during the Wasteland mission.” He smiled suddenly, opening his eyes and looking at his brother with wonder. “It’s the dog from our encounter with the Romans,” he told his brother enthusiastically. “Apparently the soldiers didn’t want him around any longer, probably because he eats a lot of food and drinks more than his share of water. He’s lost now and doesn’t know what to do, so he’s following us while he tries to figure it out.”

  “That thing with the knives strapped to his body? Are you telling me that’s what is out there, stalking us?”

  “His name is Denarius, in honor of the Roman coin,” chuckled Thomas softly. “They call him Denny for short. He’s out there in the shadows, watching us and wondering if it’s okay to come and lay by our fire.” Without even discussing the matter, he suddenly called out a series of commands.

  Infuriated, Adam glared at his brother. “You’re going to get both of us killed yet!” he snapped sharply.

  “No,” Thomas replied with determination. “He’s scared and lonely, abandoned by the only abusive family he ever knew. I can feel it in his emotions Adam. He’s not going to hurt us if we play this right.”

  Adam folded his arms together doubtfully. “So your implant allows you to speak ‘dog’ now?”

  “No,” replied Thomas with another pleased smile. “However, his memories are full of the specific words that the Romans used to command him, along with his name.” As he spoke, the large Mastiff eased out of the shadows, moving toward them slowly with a low, distrustful growl in his throat. In the darkness the massive animal looked more like a silhouetted bear. “It’s okay,” Thomas said out loud, closing his eyes again as he concentrated. “We won’t hurt you, and we have food, water and at least a partial fire to share.”

  “We do?” wondered Adam, caught somewhat by surprise at his brother’s generosity.

  Retrieving his pack, Thomas took out a small bowl for eating and set it on the ground. Holding his right hand above it, he pointed his fingers toward the bowl. An electronic crackling sound lit up the younger Roh’s fingertips with an eerie blue light. Slowly at first, a few drops pattered into the bowl before the water falling off of his fingers turned into a small trickle. “This is the right time of the morning to do this,” grinned Thomas eagerly. “There is a lot of moisture in the air. All I need is to cool down my fingers and access a reasonable source of hydrogen.” Reaching down with his left hand he placed it firmly against the soil. The amount of water trickling off of the fingers of his right hand increased significantly, swiftly filling the bowl.

  The Roman dog retreated upon witnessing the display, clearly frightened by what he was seeing and hearing.

  “It’s okay,” Thomas called out, adjusting his thoughts to once again link with the beast’s mind. He verbally used the soldiers’ command for ‘come’. Then he set the bowl down on the ground and backed away to stand by his brother. It took a few minutes, but after a time the desperate animal padded forward on all fours, thirsty beyond measure. He sniffed at the bowl, studied the two men watching it for a few seconds, and then began drinking thirstily from the dish, lapping sloppily with his huge tongue.

  “Denarius,” laughed Adam with a wry shake of his head. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

  “That’s a little too dated for my tastes,” decided Thomas thoughtfully. “I think we should call him Fica.”

  “Fica?” Adam stared at his brother, bewildered. “You want to name him after a payroll tax?”

  “Isn’t that what the Romans were famous for?” asked Thomas with a knowing smile. “Didn’t they enjoy taxing the snot out of everybody?” He pondered the matter for a moment. “Okay, we’ll be really cool owners and change it up a little. How about Fika, with a ‘k’ instead of a ‘c’?” He glanced expectantly towards Adam. “What do you think of Fika?”

  “How about we send Fika back into the wilderness and let him get his own food and water?”

  “You said it yourself Adam. We don’t have the energy right now to use our wrist weapons on a regular basis. With a littl
e practice, I can get this animal to obey me instead of the Romans. I already linked with him long enough to know the commands they used to control him. All we have to do is get him to trust us. He’s a dog for crying out loud… a dog that’s been regularly abused, I might remind you. It shouldn’t be too hard to convert him to our cause.”

  “He’ll be unpredictable… harder to control because of the abuse. We’re not experts.”

  “He can easily hold his own against at least three or four men at a time, long enough for us to deal with them,” countered Thomas, “If you have a better idea, I’m willing to listen.” He studied his brother carefully. “Perhaps you can perfect the art of sword fighting more than one opponent at a time.”

  “All right, I give up. As long as you can safely control him and he stays on the edge of camp, you can keep Denarius,” Adam agreed. “Although I have the feeling I’m going to regret this later.”

  “It’s Fika now.”

  “I was really hoping you would give up on that name.”

  “I’m not going to.”

  “I didn’t think for a minute that you would.”

  As soon as the huge beast was finished drinking the water, Thomas opened up a pair of MRE packs and tossed the food contents toward the dog. Fika sniffed them over several times before fear overcame him. Nervously, he hesitated for a moment before rebounding into the woods. Minutes later he returned, attracted by the scent of the food. The animal watched them for a few minutes longer before finally gobbling down the nourishment. Then he walked directly over to Thomas and lay down by his feet, pressing the side of his head affectionately against the young man’s leg.

  “If we’re going to make him safe for everyday people, we’d better get those knives off of him.”

  “Agreed,” nodded Adam, still naturally suspicious of his brother’s claims to have control of the animal.

  Thomas pulled out a sharp knife from his backpack and slowly began cutting away at the red harness, careful to keep his fingers away from the blades along the dog’s side. “He’s been cutting himself every time he rested,” he noted with disdain. “Those damned Romans just left him like this, still strapped in his combat gear. He wouldn’t have lasted very long like this.”

  “Those damned Romans, as you call them, are probably already dead,” Adam reminded him. Now our feisty little group numbers FOUR, he thought idly.

  Freed from the tight harness, Fika ran around in circles for a few minutes, growling and lightly barking cheerfully, annoying Thomas to no end as he tried to get close long enough to apply a disinfectant salve to the dog’s shallow knife wounds.

  Adam watched them with an amused but wary eye, noticing that the pair appeared to already be bonding. He tossed the harness remnants on the fire, allowing it to flare up again briefly. His implant chronometer informed him that it was almost 3:00 a.m. in the morning. Confident now that the dog – or his implant – would wake him should anyone else approach he allowed himself to settle down and fall asleep. He woke up several hours later, noticing that Fika was fast asleep right next to Thomas.

  Inwardly, he smiled.

  The dog would prove to be an even better burglar alarm.

  PROJECT EARTH

  Pathfinder Series: Book Three

  Chapter VIII: Mixed Heritage

  Planet Earth, southwest of Bethany, approximately A.D. 27

  When Thomas Roh woke up the next morning, the stranger was already awake. He glanced apprehensively toward the east, where the sun was already up and shining brightly in the night sky. The morning chill was fast evaporating, so he mentally deactivated his defensive shield. Groaning at sore muscles that were rebelling against a night against the rocky ground, he sat up and rubbed the remaining sleep out of his eyes. From his backpack he pulled out the animal skin that the farmer had given to him and drank from it, having refilled both his and Adam’s containers the previous night. He couldn’t believe how much their new dog had lapped up with his huge tongue – Fika was still lying right next to him, completely exhausted.

  “Good morning,” said Thomas cautiously, offering his water skin to the bearded man.

  He accepted gratefully and sipped sparingly at the water, allowing Thomas a few seconds to study him more closely. The stranger was tall and thin, with a muscular build and steel gray eyes. His hair and beard were dark brown and his skin bronzed from prolonged exposure to the sun. Most of his robe was gray, but parts of it were almost completely coated in the dirt of the desert. “Thank you kind sir,” he said, handing the container back to Thomas and smiling, “for the last minute rescue and for the water.”

  “Don’t you want some more?” Thomas studied him curiously. “It’s going to get hot again in a few minutes, and I’m pretty good at locating more.”

  “No thank you, I am used to getting by with the bare minimum,” came the unexpected reply. “That is your water, not mine. I do not wish to impose on you and your traveling companion any more than I already have. It would not be polite.”

  “You’re not imposing,” said Adam from a nearby, reclined position on the hard ground. He opened one eye warily. “My brother and I are very good at surviving in the desert… we are expert travelers.”

  “I too am a traveler of sorts.”

  “My name is Thomas and this is my brother Adam. What’s your name?” asked Thomas inquisitively. He studied the face of the man even more intensely, generally convinced that this might in fact be the very man they had been looking for. He could tell by the expression on Adam’s face that his brother remained extremely skeptical and fully unconvinced.

  “Most people call me the Samaritan,” replied the stranger warily. “That’s who I am, and I’m a long way from my homeland on a pilgrimage to see as much of the world as I can. I don’t usually share my name with others, because I am somewhat controversial in my beliefs and don’t want any harm to come to my family.” He smiled, pausing for a moment as he watched Thomas’ reaction. “My journey into the desert is a test of courage and endurance. I am trying to make myself stronger in the hopes that I can return to my people and help lead them toward a brighter future.”

  “A Samaritan?” Musing thoughtfully, Thomas rubbed dirt off of his legs. “You’re one of the people whose ancestors remained behind during the Assyrian King’s exile of Jews from their homeland?” The news partially dashed his earlier optimism, since the man he was looking for would not likely lie to him.

  “Yes,” acknowledged the Samaritan with a nod. “The traditional Jews do not much care for my people.”

  “Why not?” Adam inquired as he rose to his feet, also brushing dust from his clothing.

  “The Samaritans stick to the Pentateuch, or first five books of the Jewish bible,” explained Thomas. “They don’t accept the additions that were made by the Jewish people who lived in exile. They believe in the same God, but built their own Temple at Mount Gerizim.”

  “We tried to assist in the rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem, but those who were exiled and then returned ended up refusing our help,” continued the Samaritan, shrugging his shoulders. “They consider us unclean; no longer true Jews. They wanted no part of us.” He smiled wanly. “So we built our own Temple at the base of the Mountain, and have lived with the consequences of doing so ever since. That’s why I need to prepare myself – so that I can help my people survive.”

  “Why would they consider you ‘unclean’?” Adam wondered, clearly puzzled. “Your people stayed in their homeland during a foreign occupation. That couldn’t have been easy.”

  “It wasn’t,” agreed the Samaritan. “But people have always found reasons to dislike and persecute one another. It is always harder to learn to live peacefully with others. We did our best to live side-by-side with the foreigners during the many years of occupation. In doing so, inter-racial marriages were inevitable. That, I believe, is most likely the flaw that other Jews cannot forgive – our bloodlines are no longer pure.”

  “Who gives a rat’s ass whether or not your b
lood is ‘pure’?” rumbled Adam irritably. “That’s so… wrong.”

  The Samaritan’s expression changed to puzzlement. “Rear end of rat?” he asked.

  “Sorry,” replied Adam, his demeanor improving noticeably. “That’s a local saying where I come from.”

  “If I may ask, why are you two in the desert?”

  Thomas started to answer and then paused long enough to glance at Adam before responding. “We’re looking for someone with a mission similar to yours,” he stated factually. “His name is Jesus and we think that he might be on the verge of becoming someone very special, someone who wants to help everyone… regardless of their racial bloodline. His stated mission is to help everyone, not just certain groups or religions.”

  “I see. It is a very large desert, with mountainous terrain in many locations. It is a… difficult place in which to find one man.” The Samaritan paused, thinking the matter over carefully. “But then, I wouldn’t have expected that you could stop those Romans and this dog as easily as you did.”

  “We have special training,” offered Thomas as a clumsy reply. “My people have many skills.”

  “Indeed. You stopped a soldier while he was still far away and drove off the attacks of this dog without touching either of them. As if those aren’t astonishing feats in their own right, your brother blocked a sword blow with his bare arm and then overpowered two other soldiers. Is this sorcery of some sort?”

  An awkward pause reigned temporarily as the Roh brothers mentally decided how to handle the situation. Finally, Thomas shook his head. “It’s not sorcery,” he insisted, “even though it may appear to be.”