by Gregg Vann
“Those are called pigs,” she explained.
“Can you eat them?”
“Oh yes,” Draly said. “Have you no animals in Le’sant?”
“Only fish.”
“Ah…”
“So how big is Le’sant now?” Calif asked. “How many people live in this city of yours?”
“You know, I really have no idea.” Barent realized.
“A little over a million,” Tana stated simply, taking another sip from her cup.
Barent joined in with Calif and Draly to give her an astonished look.
“One million people?” Barent said.
“You really didn’t know, did you? No…I guess you couldn’t.”
“But there were only three thousand of us on the ship.”
“That was five centuries ago, Barent. You saw the city. How many people did you think lived there?”
“It was kind of hard to guess jumping from rooftop to rooftop and slinking around in back alleys.”
Barent recovered from his surprise enough to pose the same question to Calif. “Now you know what happened to the Le’sant, so tell us how many people survived the crash of the Olin. And how big the population is now.”
But before he could answer, Ilin called out, “Look!”
She pointed toward the front windows and they saw five men approaching the house from across the clearing. Three of them had bows readied, while the other two carried long knives.
And there was no mistaking their intent.
Barent and Tana both leapt up from the table and went for their weapons—Barent unslinging the plasma rifle from his shoulder as Tana withdrew the pistol from her backpack.
“Wait!” Draly implored. “They’re friends.”
“They don’t look very friendly,” Tana said.
“No,” she agreed, “they don’t. But let me go out and talk to them first. I’ll explain—”
“No need,” a voice from behind them interrupted. “Put those weapons down on the table or you’re both dead.”
Barent turned his head slowly to see two women leaning in through the back door, both brandishing drawn bows.
“Do it,” Barent said to Tana. Then they both carefully placed their guns down and raised their hands above their heads.
One of the women stepped forward and stripped Barent of his pistols and knife, while the other remained behind to cover her. Then they removed all of Tana’s weapons as well, before herding them both outside to meet the Olin waiting in the clearing. Calif, Ilin, and Draly, followed them out.
“They aren’t Exiles,” Draly told the other Olin. “They haven’t come here to harm us.”
“That’s for Lusani to decide,” one of them replied.
“She’s back?”
“Just now. We found a strange vehicle outside and have been searching for these intruders. You will come with us too, to explain to Lusani why you were harboring them.”
“We weren’t harboring them,” Calif said defensively. “And there’s nothing to explain. But we’ll accompany you, nonetheless.” He instructed Ilin to go back inside the house and wait for them to return.
The Olin formed a loose circle around Barent and Tana and began marching them through the woods on the outskirts of the homestead, moving off in the general direction of the spires.
“So now what?” Tana asked.
“Now,” Barent replied. “We either make new friends or collect more enemies.”
“I’d prefer friends. We already have enough enemies back in Le’sant.”
“I hope it goes that way too, but I really don’t think it’s up to us. And unfortunately, by the looks on the faces of Calif and Draly, I’m not anticipating a very warm reception.”
“You know, Barent, for someone who went down in history as some kind of inspirational leader, your pep talks really need a lot of work.”
“What can I say?” He grinned.
“I’m a few centuries out of practice.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A Childhood Memory
The scenery changed often as they trekked through the cavernous central core of the Olin, and the group passed a multitude of other homesteads and agricultural clearings along the way—spread out all across the shifting terrain. Most of the tranquil glades they happened upon held cottages, or small houses like Draly and Calif’s, but a few possessed more elaborate multi-story structures, and were evidence of significantly larger families.
They encountered more of the Olin people as well, working their lands, or engaged in other innocuous day-to-day activities. Barent was certain that they’d been spotted by numerous people as they made their way through the ship, but none of them openly acknowledged the group, or ever tried to approach them.
They were following a well-worn path that wound unevenly through the dense landscape, traversing terrain that continually alternated between forest and jungle. The group was moving through a particularly dense section of the latter when they broke out of the thick foliage and came upon a small river.
“I thought they were joking,” Tana said, surprise and wonder coloring her voice. “There really is a river inside this spaceship.”
She followed behind two of the Olin as they waded into the shallow water and crossed to the other side, shooting a glance back at Barent as he trailed in after her. “It’s warm too!” Tana exclaimed.
“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying yourself,” he replied.
“You have no idea, Barent. You grew up on Earth, and have experienced every kind of climate and location imaginable. Deserts, beaches, forests, rain…real rain. And oceans! To me, those things are nothing more than pictures in history books.”
Tana took a long look around, taking in as many of the sights as possible, and then she singled out a section of forest on the opposite side of the river. “Look there, for example. In Le’sant, the trees are all grown in farms—in perfectly straight lines with metal walkways suspended between each row. It’s more like a factory than a forest. But this, this is natural. And I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Despite their predicament, Tana gave Barent a genuine smile. “So yeah. For me, this is a pretty big deal.”
“Well in that case,” he replied. “Then I’m seriously glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Good.”
The Olin spoke among themselves during the journey but said almost nothing to Tana and Barent—other than directing them not to touch things, or urging the pair forward when they stopped to examine some of the fascinating flora and fauna they encountered along the way. From what Barent could glean through some prudent eavesdropping, the Olin were in a constant state of conflict with a people called the Exiles—the same group that Calif and Draly had mentioned earlier. It seemed the two factions had just engaged in some sort of battle, and Barent was eager to quiz the Olin about the specifics of it. But it was evident from their demeanor that the effort would be wasted; they weren’t going to tell Barent anything.
That’s okay, he thought. I’m sure I’ll get some answers when we get to wherever the hell it is we’re going.
The path they were following eventually ended on the outskirts of a large settlement, and Barent regarded the placement of streets and buildings with a great deal of curiosity. He saw dirt roads arranged perpendicular to the length of the Olin, each lined with two-story buildings constructed from wood and salvaged metal. He also noticed a host of generous-sized alleyways running between the structures—and observed exterior stairways down most of them, leading up to the second stories. The majority of the buildings also featured large windows on the first floor, fronting the streets.
In many ways, the settlement reminded Barent of old Western towns, like in the films his long-dead grandfather liked to watch. But instead of being tied up in front of a saloon, the horses in this town wandered around loose in the streets. And the citizens were wearing modern clothing…more or less. There was also the fact that this town was located inside a three-kilometer long spaces
hip—one that had crashed on an alien world, light-years from Earth.
That would probably qualify as the most significant difference, Barent thought.
Several of the residents looked the group over warily as they marched into the settlement, but a quick nod from their Olin escorts sent the people back on their original errands. Barent saw shops and residences as they walked through the town, and a large open area equipped with dozens of bench seats—possibly a theater, or some sort of gathering place.
As they rounded the corner of an ample-sized alleyway, the group stepped into a broad street, easily twice the size of all the other roads. A quick look around led Barent to deduce it was the town’s main thoroughfare, and if any part of him still harbored the romantic notion that they were in an Old Western town—somewhere in the distant past—it was shattered by what he saw at the end of the road. There, behind four heavily armed Olin, sat a large set of airlock doors.
The faded yellow and red warning placards were still visible against the unpainted metal, gleaming brightly in the abundant light reflecting off the spires. And the hull surrounding the airlock had been cleared of all plant life, causing it stick out sharply against the rest of the scenery, dominated by greens and browns.
When they got close to the giant circle a few of the Olin left the group, stepping up to a trio of vertical storage lockers on the side of the road, and pulling out armfuls of heavy outerwear. They returned with the clothing and distributed it among themselves, and each of the Olin donned the thick pants and heavy jackets with practiced precision. After checking everything over to be certain it was properly fastened, they began moving down the street again.
“I believe we’re going back outside,” Barent said to Tana.
“I’d rather stay in here,” she replied.
“I don’t think it’s optional.”
Barent untied the cloak from around his waist and put it back on. Calif offered him a thickly furred long-coat to complement it, but he politely refused. Tana accepted hers without hesitation.
“I’ll say this for the Exiles,” one of their escorts remarked. “They make the best cold weather gear there is.”
“Yeah,” another agreed. “It’s just a shame we have to kill them in order to get our hands on it. Sewing up holes and washing blood off is a lot of work.”
“It’s worth it, though.”
When the group signaled they were ready to leave, men on both sides of the airlock attached chains to its protruding handles, and then they worked hard to pull it open. As the doors slid aside, cold air from outside the ship came rushing in with a vengeance, as if trying to punish the Olin for daring to be warm on this frozen world. When the gap was wide enough to exit, the group stepped out into the snow.
They were immediately forced out of the way as several Olin purposefully strode past them and into the ship. They were carrying wood and cloth litters between them, bearing severely injured people, and Tana saw thick, bloodstained blankets pulled over the faces of some of them. But even a few of those that remained uncovered were clearly gone. Tana watched until the last of the Olin made it inside, and then the airlock doors jerkily pushed closed again—sealing the heat and the dead in behind them.
“So…that didn’t look good,” she said.
Tana’s tone was meant to sound unconcerned and indifferent, but Barent heard the uneasiness she was trying to conceal.
“No, it didn’t,” he agreed, and then they both turned away from the airlock.
Fifty meters out ahead of them, they were shocked to see a massive encampment—with canvas and animal skin tent coverings pulled tightly over large metal frames. From what they could tell, most of the structures were already complete, but a few of them were still bare framework. It soon became obvious to Barent that they wouldn’t remain that way for long, though. He marveled at how quickly the tents were being assembled—the Olin’s movements were almost military-like in their efficiency—and Barent estimated that each of the large enclosures could easily hold dozens of people. The vast camp stretched out across the plain like a small city, and Barent found it impossible to believe that just a few hours earlier, the entire area had been a wide-open expanse of nothingness.
“There must be hundreds of them,” he said, indicating the sea of tents. “And thousands of Olin.”
Tana nodded in agreement. Despite the hood she’d thrown over her head to ward off the relentless cold of Torvus, Barent could see the surprise in her eyes.
He tried to hazard some sort of guess, but Barent couldn’t reliably estimate how many Olin were pavilioned outside the ship. Many were working to finish erecting the tents, but hundreds more were engaged in weapons training—sparring with the long blades nearly all of them seemed to carry, or shooting arrows at small targets thrown up in the air. And there were even more Olin outside the camp, skinning and quartering large animals Barent couldn’t identify.
“Are those deer?” he asked the woman walking next to him. At first, Barent didn’t think the Olin was going to answer. But then she looked at him and said, “Caribou.”
Yes.
Of course.
Barent recalled the assignment briefing just before they left Earth. Caribou had been chosen as one of the primary game animals because they only required minimal genetic alterations to survive on the planet. The climate on Torvus was similar to that of the northernmost regions of Earth—where caribou roamed naturally in the wild. So they’d been an obvious choice for the colony. But even with the caribou’s significant advantages, the comparable environment wouldn’t have been enough for them to thrive on Torvus, not without direct human intervention. Their presence here meant that the first generation of Olin successfully seeded the area with the bacteria and microfauna necessary for the animals to flourish. If not, the caribou would have died out long ago.
So much has happened while I slept.
The group halted at a small tent on the outskirts of the sprawling camp, and the Olin ordered Barent and Tana to stand at the entrance of it and not move. Draly pulled the flap open and she and Calif went inside, and then two of the Olin escorts followed them in. The others remained behind to keep an eye on their captives.
“I hope they say good things about us,” Tana said.
“You mean like when I held a knife to Calif’s throat and threatened to kill him?” Barent replied.
“I’d rather they focused more on the things that happened after that.”
“We shall see.”
“I guess so,” Tana said. “Hey, look at that.”
Barent followed her outstretched arm and observed three Olin warriors, circling another standing in the center of them. They were taking turns lunging in to attack the man, and then quickly breaking away again—as if testing his defenses. But despite being outnumbered the defender was holding his ground, skillfully keeping the others at bay with a pair of long knives.
Barent noticed that the blades the Olin used didn’t quite reach the length of a short sword, yet they were decidedly longer than his combat knife—and certainly Tana’s daggers. It was an odd choice for combat, but Barent didn’t doubt their effectiveness. He did, however, wonder at the origins of the weapon.
There was a moment’s pause in the action, followed by the almost palpable anticipation that something was about to happen, and then all three of the attackers lunged at once. The defender dropped low and swept the legs out from underneath one of his assailants, and then spun back around to kick another in the head. The last one rushed toward him, deftly spinning her blades in an impressive display that pressed the defender back, but he successfully parried the attack and shoved his own knives up against the woman’s throat—one positioned to slice, and the other to stab.
“Again,” he called out. Then he lowered his blades and gave the woman a meaningful look. “Your turn, Julnev.”
“Yes, Renik.”
She took her place in the center this time and the other three readied to attack her. But the tent flap opened before th
ey could begin, and an Olin Barent judged to be a guard leaned out, calling over to the man leading the practice.
“Renik! Lusani wishes to see you.”
They could hear him instructing the others to continue on in his absence, and then Renik sheathed his blades and approached the tent, giving Barent and Tana an inquisitive look before going inside.
As he disappeared behind the canvas, Tana said, “He’s a good fighter.”
“They all appear to be,” Barent agreed.
A moment later, the flap opened up again and the guard told them to come inside. They passed by Calif and Draly as they were leaving the tent, but their expressions provided few clues as to the type of welcome they should expect.
Barent spotted a long table at the back of the room, with four people huddled around it closely. When he got nearer, he saw that the Olin were carefully examining the items they’d confiscated at Calif and Draly’s house. The group appeared interested in everything on the table, but Barent’s plasma rifle and Tana’s book were drawing the most attention.
Barent hadn’t realized that Tana brought the book with them when they left the hideout, and he thought it an odd thing to carry around—especially in these circumstances. But she’d chosen it over all of her other possessions when they fled Le’sant, so maybe he shouldn’t have been that surprised.
“Everyone out,” a woman standing at the back of the table stated tiredly. Then added, “Not you, Renik.”
Barent noted that she was older than most of the Olin they’d encountered so far, but certainly not elderly. And only a tiny bit of grey streaked through her black, shoulder-length hair. When she strode around to the front of the table Barent recognized the same fluid movements the other Olin possessed. And despite her age, he knew the woman was every bit the fighter Renik was…that they all appeared to be. After the others left the tent she introduced herself.
