AKLESH (Under Strange Skies) (14 page)

But, he did.

“The Sky Ships can hide themselves in plain sight,” he stated. The others scoffed, especially Vol, but he went on. “You might not believe that’s possible, I get that. But I tell you the ship could be right in front of you and you’d never see it.”

“Then how can we find it if is invisible?” asked Tyro. “It’s hopeless.” Others joined in agreement.

“Not quite,” said Gar. “There are other ways.”

“What

do

you

mean?”

asked

Vol

suspiciously. “Go on.”

“Are there any clearings around here?” asked Gar. “Really big ones?” He used his hands to indicate what he meant, as if the width of his arms could somehow express a large size.

“A few. But we’ve already searched those,” she said dismissively.

“Take me to them when the sun comes up.”

“And why?” she asked.

“Because,”

he

said

with

growing

confidence, “I’m going to find your invisible ship.”

***

A few hours had passed since sunrise and Gar had been taken to two other clearings already that morning.

He was being guided by Tyro and another warrior from a different hunting group. The unfamiliar native had been introduced to him as Caen’Vrhal. He was a little shorter and thicker than Tyro, but not by much. Caen had come along because Gar had requested a good archer to accompany him. For what he had asked to do, Caen was certain they didn’t need his skill. In his opinion a small child could have done the job. He was quite happy to tell them as much and often.

The trio was on its way to another clearing about a mile away from the previous one. Tyro was leading with the young prince in the middle and the bowman following behind.

Caen hadn’t trusted or even liked Gar ever since he had arrived. The bowman had only come along because Vol had commanded him to go.

Even then it was under protest. He wasted no time in complaining, saying the whole excursion was a foolish exercise. Wearing a snide smirk, he asked a relentless torrent of questions, mostly to get on Gar’s nerves.

“So explain to me again how the Sky Ships can be there and not be seen?”

Gar sighed.

He would never have been forced to suffer such idiots back on Orestus. The prince was now getting very tired of trees, walking, tribes, mind-links and stupid, questioning savages. He wanted to be home in his warm, soft bed having enjoyed a warm, sweet meal and lying next to a warm, sweet, soft body.

Roughing it had gotten old.

“They have technology that allows it to reflect the environment around it,” he replied in a dry monotone.

“How?”

“Through the shielding?”

“Shields? Like our shields?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

“How?”

“By recording the environmental data on one side of the ship and projecting the images on the other.”

“What is recording?”

“The coping of data.”

“What’s data…“

Gar stopped in his tracks and wheeled on the tribesman. “Listen, Caen, is it? I could explain it to you. I could tell you that micro cameras in the plating of the ship import the data into tiny nanites.

This information is interpreted by the ships central system, which in turn measures the amount of adjustment necessary to the image then projects that image on the opposite shield, which is really only photons that encompass the ship making it impervious to harm. But, it would be pointless because you are a troglodyte who only understands spears and arrows and is too stupid to conceive of anything else!”

Caen’s right hook landed squarely on Gar’s jaw with a crack that threw him to the ground.

“Caen!” shouted Tyro, but Gar lifted a hand to show that he was alright and had no intention of retaliating. Vol’s henchman had been toying with him and he had taken the bait. A dull ache was starting to creep into his jaw and he moved it a little to loosen the joint. He had been hit before.

There had been many a bar fight on foreign planets and jilted lovers who held a grudge. He thought that even some members of parliament would love to take a swing at him. The thing he’d taken for granted was of all the words he had let fly in his tirade against Caen, the one the native would understand was ‘stupid.’

The archer walked ahead smugly while Tyro offered a hand to help Gar up. The young prince didn’t mind the arrogant attitude of the warrior. He was quite capable of being just as much of a twit.

Tyro hadn’t been overly friendly to Gar since they had arrived at the rendezvous point, yet the large leader had not gone out of his way to make things uncomfortable for him. Gar hadn’t expected anything since hee hadn’t expected much He knew the warrior had to stay neutral due to his position among the other hunting groups. So it was surprising that once Caen was a few yards away and out of earshot, Tyro confided in him.

“He’s always been like that,” he said.

“Don’t take it personally.”

“I’m taking solace knowing if he were on Orestus, I could have him put to death,” replied Gar. Tyro looked at him, uncertain if he was kidding or not.

“He’s part of Vol’s hunting group. They all carry a bit of a grudge in general. Outsiders make my people nervous. In time it will change.”

“Hopefully, I won’t be here long enough for it to matter, no offense Tyro.”

They walked for a while in silence before Tyro got the nerve to ask something that had been on his mind for a while.

“Have you really ‘felt’ Kai…in your mind?”

“I’ve been aware of him…yeah,” Gar said, then raised a playful eyebrow at his hiking companion. “Jealous?”

Tyro was confused. “Jealous?” He did not understand Gar’s meaning.

Gar realized Tyro did not know or was unaware that Seema had told him about the nature of his childhood friendship with Kai. He thought it best to let the warrior off the hook and stop trying to tease him. They were not on that level of friendship yet.

“In my mind, things are fuzzy,” he said, moving the topic along. “There’s a lot coming at me and I can’t always make sense of it. And right now there’s nothing. I can’t sense Kai at all.”

“Oh,” said Tyro, focusing on the ground. He seemed disappointed, wanting to ask him more but not knowing what to say.

“I don’t think I’m giving you the answers you’re looking for,” Gar said, moving some of the purple foliage out of his way as they walked. “Was there something else?”

“Yes,” said Tyro. What he was wrestling with appeared difficult for him to put into words.

Finally he seemed to come up with them. “I was wondering…well, Seema and I wondered…is Kai…well, happy? Can you tell that?”

“
Seema
and you?”

“Yes.”

Gar sighed. His concern for his lost friend was touching. The prince was learning more and more about the compassion of these savages as he spent time with them and was surprised by the depth of their feelings. “I don’t honestly know. I don’t know how to sort through what I’m sensing.

Is that the sort of thing you can sense about Seema?”

Tyro smiled broadly, which was all the answer he needed. They walked on for a few more meters.

“Have you ever thought to ask him yourself?” Gar suggested. The thought struck Tyro as if the concept had never crossed his mind, but before he could reply they were interrupted.

“We’re here!” shouted Caen’s voice from up ahead.

Putting their conversation away for another time, the three came into some bushes just outside a white, grassy field surrounded by tall purple trees.

“Same as before,” Gar instructed Vol’s archer.

“Three

arrows,

three

opposite

directions…”

“I know my job, Sky Tribesman,” said Caen, who had already drawn his bow. He first shot an arrow to the left. It let loose with a sharp twang then whistled through the air in a high, clean arch before landing in the grass several meters away.

The bowman gave him a put-upon look.

“This is a waste of good arrows.”

“Just shoot the next one,” Gar said.

Caen strung the second arrow and let it fly, this time directly in front of them. Just as it hit its peak and started to descend it collided with something in mid-air and bounced off. The impact made the air ripple. Gar had seen the effect many times before. They could hear a faint hum in the air as if someone had plucked a very tight guitar string. The hair on their bodies bristled with the static electricity that surrounded them.

Both Tyro and Caen’s mouths had dropped open in surprise. Neither had ever seen a phenomenon like it before.

Suddenly the image of trees before them began to wobble and lose shape, as if someone had touched the surface of a pond. A dark shape immerged in its place with a whooshing noise.

It was a spaceship, large and deep brown, with three levels and three engines in the back. The vessel hovered in stasis about ten feet in the air.

Gar recognized that type of ship instantly. It had been constructed on the planet Graphan. The muted texture of the hull plating gave it away immediately. He could’ve told Tyro and Caen everything there was to know about that ship, but they wouldn’t have understood. His keen interest in spacecraft would be little appreciated among his current companions.

From the belly of the vessel a ramp descended and an armed guard in a blue uniform stepped out. He scanned the area and seeing nothing in particular walked back up the ramp, which closed behind him with a hiss of hydraulics.

There was a shimmer and the shield was regenerated, the ship disappearing once again under the illusion of the forest on the opposite side of the glade.

Gar put his hands on the shoulders of the warriors, who were still awestruck by the sight.

“And that,” said Gar coyly, “is how you find a ship that isn’t there.”

Dr. Jenna Hines was miserable.

She sat in the commons area of the ship surrounded by three times as many blue uniforms than tan. The mercenaries were all very similar; hard jawed soldiers with grim humor who had all become restless on their mission to protect seventeen scientists from the ominous threat of grassy plains, trees and white furry animals. Typically a science team needed no such protection. But, as she had discovered, they were no ordinary science team.

The whole project had the stink of military, immorality and corruption.

She tried to eat her rations but had long ago lost her appetite. Nothing tasted good, she couldn’t sleep and she missed her home and family.

People had been scurrying about and there were several hushed conversations going on at the tables around her, all made up of blue uniforms.

Over the past hour there had been a buzz in the air, but Jenna had been too caught up in her own moral dilemma to notice.Brent Carter, a blond haired scientist and general boar of a man came into the commons area practically skipping with glee.

Jenna observed that Brent had a particular talent for the work they were being forced to do. Any cause for him to be happy was a certain sign that something else was in bad condition. He went to the food terminal and removed a tray of rations, then happily sauntered to her table and sat down.

Once settled he immediately began scarfing down his food. Brent was from Haven, one of the lower rings on Orestus and his manners reflected it.

She didn’t want to ask, but found herself doing so anyway.

“Chipper?”

Brent almost finished chewing before he replied.

“You mean you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

The other scientist laughed letting some crumbs fly in various directions. “There’s going to be a huge influx of subjects later today.”

She sighed. “More bovine creatures? Has a herd been located nearby or something?”

“Herd?” he laughed. “Nah, this is for your department. Humanoid. A bunch!”

Panic leaped into her throat. “What do you mean, Brent? Humanoids? Where from? How?”

“Excited to get to work, huh? Your two subjects not interesting enough?” he teased her. Her distaste for what they were doing was fairly well known.

“Well now there’ll be enough for all of us to play.

I’m sure some of the subjects in the new group will be closely related. That should make you happy.”

“But new specimens? How?” she insisted more forcefully.

Brent’s smile faded. “Relax. I’ll tell you,” he said, putting down the gray ration in his hand. “There was a disturbance in the ship’s shielding earlier this morning. They thought it might have been a bird or something, as usual. But they did a scan of the area anyway, just in case. About three miles from here is a whole mess of the mongrels all crowded in the forest. Like forty of them. Probably a hunting party, or a migratory thing…who knows?

Anyway, Rhoed’s sending out a troupe of, like, twenty mercenaries.”

“That’s almost the entire regiment. Are they going to try and take them all?“

“No, you idiot,” spat Brent. “Maybe ten or so and the rest…” He made a pistol motion with his hand and laughed. She now realized why the mercenaries had been so excited all day. They were preparing for a slaughter. The natives would have no chance against flash artillery.