Animus Intercept

by Lawrence Ambrose

  They hadn't encountered any more battlegrounds, but passing through a strip of woods/jungle they'd noticed several broken off tree limbs and branches.

  "They made spears and maybe bows," Mallory noted with an approving smile.

  Patricia estimated twenty-three people remained. Five of them had significant wounds – she extrapolated that from bandages improvised from clothing they'd left behind.

  The trail led them to a campsite marked by three fire pits, set against a tall, sharp-thorned thicket. Mallory poked a stick into the ashes.

  "3.7 days old," said Patricia.

  Zane nodded. "We're catching up. They must've rested here a day or so."

  "No bodies, anyway," said Mallory. "I wonder what they're eating and drinking."

  Dark canine shapes rising in the grass seventy meters away caught their eyes. A dozen dire wolves sat on their haunches regarding them.

  "Round two," said Mallory.

  They started to unsling their rifles and roll their "turtle necks" up over their faces, but the wolves turned from them and loped away in a leisurely stride to the west, entering the southern portion of the woods a hundred meters distant. Zane was joined by his two companions in aiming his BADD in their direction.

  "Maybe they've learned their lesson," said Mallory.

  An eerie yodeling cut through the trees from the south. They looked at each other.

  "That didn't sound like a wolf," said Zane.

  Patricia was aiming her BADD at the sound.

  "I'm detecting a large animal in a tree near where the dire wolves entered," she said. "Heat signature appears to indicate a large primate or human."

  Zane and Mallory elevated their devices. An image appeared on their screens – a figure halfway up a giant cypress tree.

  "It looks like a girl," Zane murmured. "A girl with red hair."

  Mallory glanced at him. "A straggler from the Peacemaker?"

  "She's wearing some form of fur around her waist," said Zane. "And she's topless. Not exactly Space Command dress code."

  Mallory smiled as he ogled the image on his tablet. "A pretty nice pair, too, I have to say."

  The redheaded girl was breaking off branches and hurling them at something below, shouting what sounded like curses. Flashes of IR images revealed large animals circling in the brush around the tree.

  "Looks like the wolves drove her up there," said Zane.

  "Yeah." Mallory's mouth formed a hard line. "Are we gonna do anything about that?"

  "I think continuing our search for the Peacemaker crew would be the logical priority," said Patricia.

  "That's because machines don't have souls," Mallory snorted.

  "Could you show me where your soul resides?"

  Mallory gave his chest a scornful thump.

  "She's right," said Zane. "Finding the Peacemaker crew is our priority." He grinned at Mallory. "And we'll proceed with that as soon as we rescue the girl."

  "See, now that's soul."

  They tugged their suits to full coverage and then jogged along the outskirts of the woods toward the treed girl with long, springy strides. Zane had almost forgotten how much fun and empowering the PA suits could be.

  They charged into the woods, kinetic rifles leveled. But as they approached the tree the wolves scattered, melting into the woods before anyone had a clear shot. They watched the predators recede on their telometers.

  "You think some of them were the ones who attacked us?" Mallory asked. "Or maybe the news that we're kick-ass has spread?"

  They turned their attention up at the girl, who was staring down at them, her expression bunched up in either puzzlement or fear. Patricia tugged back her head cover and smiled up at her. The girl made a hooting noise that sounded surprised. Zane and Mallory flipped back their masks as well. Patricia aimed her tablet up at her. A tiny red laser dot appeared on one of her bronzed, muscular forearms.

  She had long red hair tied behind her head with multiple strands of brightly colored beads. Her eyes were light, possibly blue or green, her tan reddish. Her thighs, shoulders, and arms were thick-boned and muscular. Are those freckles on her cheeks? Zane wondered. She was wearing what appeared to be a tanned leather miniskirt with a broad stone knife strapped to her waist. She looked primitive, with pronounced, slightly coarse features and a high, backward-sloping forehead – but also modern with her light eyes and complexion and red hair. She was a jarring image for Zane, and judging from Mallory's gaping mouth, it was for him as well.

  "Hey," Mallory greeted her.

  The girl gestured rapidly and made sounds as if she were coughing and trying to sing at the same time.

  "I've just obtained a laser spectrographic sample from her skin," said Patricia. "She's a Neanderthal. Approximate age, 12 - 14."

  "No way," said Mallory, shading his eyes and peering up at her. "She could pass for one of my Irish relatives. The ones who drank way too much and had a thing for their first cousins, but still..."

  Patricia smiled up at the girl and waved. After a moment, the girl raised a tentative hand.

  "You know, David," said Zane, glancing between her and him, "I think I do see a family resemblance. Except she's more refined looking."

  Mallory snorted out a laugh. That sound seemed to animate the Neanderthal girl, who started fluttering her hands and chirping.

  "Too bad we forgot to bring our Star Trek universal translator," said Mallory.

  The girl climbed down slowly, settling on the ground a few feet away and eyeing them shyly. Up close, she had a distinct odor, like crushed flowers, Zane thought. He guessed she was a bit over five feet tall.

  She dropped to the ground suddenly and dislodged a beach ball-sized rock with one arm, exposing a tangle of writhing worms in the damp earth. She seized one and offered it with a big smile to Patricia. Patricia accepted it.

  "Tenebrio molitor larva," she said. "Mealworm."

  She popped it in her mouth without hesitation and chewed thoughtfully.

  "Jeez," said Mallory. "What does it taste like?"

  "It's hard to describe the electric analogues. But I'd have to say chicken."

  Mallory burst out laughing. The girl cocked her head and gave him a wary smile. Zane smiled and shook his head.

  "This would be a paleontologist's wet dream," he said. "But as fascinating as this is – even to me – we need to get back on track."

  "Agreed," said Mallory.

  "Their path of travel resumes right where we entered," Patricia informed them. "They were skirting the forest, too."

  "But where the hell are they going?" Mallory grumbled. "Why didn't they just camp out near the wall?"

  "Good question." Zane scratched the stubble on his chin. "My best guess is they thought they'd be stuck here awhile, if not forever, and wanted to find somewhere livable, hopefully near water."

  They backtracked to the edge of the woods, the Neanderthal girl following a few steps behind. Patricia retrieved a torn piece of bloody clothing from a low-hanging branch.

  "Another battle?" Zane asked.

  "Bandage, I think."

  Patricia dropped the cloth. The girl startled them by lunging forward and snatching the cloth from the grass, waving it like a small, bloody flag and fluting excited bird sounds. Patricia pointed south, in the apparent direction of the crew's trail. The girl bobbed her head in increasing excitement and pointed with her.

  "She must've seen them," said Zane.

  The girl drew her stone knife, broke a branch with one hand, and made a motion of attaching the knife to the branch.

  "She's saying they made spears," said Patricia.

  The girl kept pointing, bounding ahead as if she wanted to lead them on. Zane traded shrugging looks with Mallory and Patricia.

  "I say we follow her," said Mallory. "She seems to know something."

  Patricia motioned for her to proceed. She trotted ahead - more like a Clydesdale than a race horse, Zane thought – her thickly hewed legs pushing a body that might've belonged to a
young female power-lifter. They skirted the forest and jogged out to the center of a meadow. The girl stopped and pointed upward. They shielded their eyes and peered up into a perfect blue, near-cloudless sky.

  "What's she saying?" Mallory asked.

  The girl was now dancing and flapping her arms frantically, as if trying to fly off the ground. Patricia walked a few paces ahead, peering down at her telemeter.

  "The trail stops here," she said.

  The girl was now making the high-pitched humming sound of an enraged mosquito. Seeing the blank faces, she stopped flapping her arms and dropped to the ground. Grabbing a small twig, she began scratching a shape in a bare patch of ground. They watched over her shoulder as she drew a stick figure not unlike one of the renderings of people on a Stone Age cave. But this stick figure had a double pair of wings sprouting from its sides.

  Patricia dropped down at her side and drew several wingless stick figures in the sand. The girl drew a line from the winged figure to Patricia's figures and twisted around to point at the sky again.

  "She appears to be saying they were taken into the air," said Patricia.

  Zane let this new strange turn sink in for a few moments. Someone with wings carried them away? He flashed back to the first chamber and the sleeping, insect-human bodies.

  "Maybe some of the winged aliens we saw in that chamber are working out here," said Mallory.

  "They'd need an aircraft to transport them," said Zane. "But why not transport them from the start? This isn't adding up."

  Patricia drew a disc shape above the human stick figures and connected it to them with a line, raising her eyebrows in question to the girl. The girl frowned at the drawing, but seemed undecided. She reached down suddenly and elongated and widened the disc into a fat ellipse, adding a squarish attachment to the bottom and a symbol that resembled a four-leaf clover to the main body.

  "Looks like a blimp," said Zane.

  Patricia pointed to the stick figures and then pointed in all directions in turn. The girl smiled and pointed to the west.

  "And they say Neanderthals aren't smart," Mallory chuckled.

  "Scientists don't say that, Lieutenant," said Patricia. "Given their brain-body ratio and their advanced culture – including art and burial of dead – they are generally believed by paleontologists to be as intelligent as modern humans."

  "Did I ever tell you how fucking much I hate know-it-alls?"

  "No."

  "Is there any way we can get more specific directions from her where the blimps went?" asked Zane.

  "I can try."

  Patricia quickly sketched a forest beside the stick figures and drew a line through the forest back to the wall. She drew another line from the winged figure toward the west and parted her hands between the wall and their present location. She then placed one hand on the human stick figures, and touching the winged creature began slowly spreading her hands apart while glancing in question at the Neanderthal girl.

  The girl's broad forehead wrinkled in thought. When she rose to her feet, Zane assumed she was done playing Twenty Questions or didn't understand the question. But about fifteen feet away she kneeled again and scrawled something on the ground. Following her, they saw it was another winged figure.

  Patricia drew a tree and lake, trying to prompt the girl into filling in some of the landscape. Once again, she understood the question, and quickly added some triangles, a thin line, and a series of circles which they took to be mountains, a river, and some lakes.

  "If this has any accuracy," said Zane, "we could follow the river most of the way."

  Mallory squinted at the sand. "Looks like a helluva walk."

  "Maybe we can boat down the river, depending on which direction it's flowing." He turned to the girl. "Thank you." She smiled at him uncomprehendingly. He offered her a small bow of his head. "Thank you for your help, whoever you are."

  She tapped her chest. "Shashaha."

  Goosebumps prickled Zane's forearms. Is it possible she understood me? No, it was just random chance. He touched his sternum.

  "Zane," he said.

  "Zzzande."

  "Goodbye, Sasha."

  Zane nodded to Mallory and Patricia. Patricia touched the young Neanderthal's shoulder in passing and Mallory mumbled thanks.

  An African veldt-like plain stretched before them, interrupted by dense forests and ghostly mountain peaks above the timberline in the distance.

  "We have a few hours of daylight left," said Zane. "Maybe we can reach the hypothetical river before dark and set up camp there."

  "Sounds good to me," said Mallory.

  Their first few steps were interrupted by eight heavy-set men in loin cloths rising as one out of the tall grass. They reminded Zane of over-sized redheaded dwarves from Lord of the Rings: broad, barrel-chested upper bodies, high sloping foreheads and protruding features, heavy red and black beards, and short, thickly muscled legs. Or maybe miniature sumo wrestlers, Zane thought. They were armed with stone spears and knives.

  The girl burst into birdlike twittering and wildly flapping hands. The men moved closer, spreading out, wariness glinting in their large light-colored eyes.

  "Let's cover up," Zane said quietly.

  The act of rolling their hand and head PA suit covers on raised a suspicious grumble among the men, the spears coming up in their hands. The girl made urgently calming gestures and a lower-pitched tweeting that sounded like a lullaby to Zane.

  The spears relaxed in the men's hands, tilting toward the ground. One of them, a big red-bearded brute that Zane suspected could bench press both him and Mallory in either hand, spoke up in a surprisingly sonorous sing-song voice only occasionally punctuated by a cliché caveman grunt or rasp. After a minute or two he paused, looking from the girl to Zane and the crew expectantly.

  "I have no idea what Gimli here is babbling about, Cap," said Mallory, "but we got places to be and shit to do and the day ain't getting any shorter."

  "Agreed," said Zane. "As much as I always wanted to meet a Neanderthal, we need to get moving."

  Mallory didn't wait for further encouragement. He turned away with a curt wave and stepped past the girl – only to find a heavy-set cousin of "Gimli" blocking his path.

  "Move aside, partner," Mallory spoke in a low growl. He took another step forward, but the Neanderthal didn't budge. "What the hell's their problem, anyway? We saved their kid, why the attitude?"

  "I'm not sure," said Patricia. "They seem to want something from us. Their facial expressions and body language don't imply violent intent. They just don't want us to leave, for some reason."

  "Well, that's too bad, because we're leaving."

  Mallory resumed his forward motion. The Neanderthal's spear rose toward his chest. Mallory grabbed the spear shaft with one hand and snapped off the spearhead, tossing it in the grass. The Neanderthal grunted and reached for the stone club at his side. Mallory struck him in the chest with the flat of his hand, propelling him backwards onto his butt. The others closed quickly in on him, spears threatening. Zane raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, but his warrior instincts were kicking in, and regardless of the Neanderthal's strength, they stood exactly zero chance against people in PA suits.

  The girl was gesturing frantically, crying out like a wounded bird. She dropped suddenly to the ground, drawing a line from her original winged figure to the human stick figures. She pointed to Zane and the crew and then slapped her hand down on the human stick figures and rubbed them out. She looked up at them with pleading eyes.

  "She's telling us the winged things would kill us?" Zane asked. A light popped dimly in his head. "They're trying to warn us? To stop us from going?"

  "I think so, sir," said Patricia.

  Zane stooped beside the girl, scribbling another stick figure and drawing a line from it to the winged figure. Then he stood up and smashed the heel of his boot into the winged figure, grinding it into non-existence.

  "Right on, Cap," said Mallory.

  Th
e girl tweeted to the men, who appeared to relax again. The spears came down. "Gimli" spoke in his grave, sonorous baritone. He made an encircling motion with his thickly muscled arms and stomped on the spot where the winged figure had been, pointing from his chest to the crew.

  "This could be stroke of luck," said Mallory. "If they want to go with us, they can lead us there. That could save us a lot of time."

  Zane nodded. "Assuming we're interpreting them right."

  They managed, with a few amicable gestures – and the girl interpreting - to communicate their assent. The Neanderthal leader's words sounded agreeable. The girl backed off, raising a hand in farewell to the crew, and jogged away in the company of one of the men.

  This time when the crew started to leave the Neanderthals fell into step beside them. Gimli pointed toward a section of forest to the south and they headed in that direction. Zane, Mallory, and Patricia pulled back their head and hand covers. Zane noticed the Neanderthal men eyeing Patricia as she shook free her long, raven hair. He had to smile. If they only knew.

  THEY HAD been following the river for two days, pausing occasionally for the Neanderthal men to hunt or fish. Zane marveled at their efficiency. They cobbled together traps for small game even as they walked, and one or two of the men would run ahead and lay them out. More often than not a rabbit or squirrel or small creature would be waiting, skewered or strangled, which the men cooked so quickly from hot wood embers they carried in horns that they might've been portable microwaves.

  At other times they'd spot larger game and rush off to intercept them. They had small wooden levers to assist their spear throws, allowing them to throw from a greater distance, but they soon observed that the Neanderthals were not averse to getting up, close, and personal with creatures magnitudes larger and more powerful than they – including one giant bison and an elk. In both cases, when the hunters' spear throws failed to drop the creatures, they charged in with their second spears. The elk bounded away, but a wound to the bison's foreleg prevented its escape. After several spear-thrusts failed to subdue the kicking and whirling beast, one brave soul leaped on its back and smacked its head repeatedly with a stone club until it collapsed into the grass.