Sojourners: Farpointe Initiative Book Two

by Aaron Hubble

  Berit nodded and reached up, taking the woman’s hand as she helped her to a sitting position. Another wave of nausea threatened to send Berit back to supine, but she bowed her head and waited as the fog cleared. Feeling better, she looked at the woman and smiled weakly.

  “Thank you. You were in the right place at the right time.”

  Sitting back on her heels, the young woman said, “Your friend, the professor, asked me to keep my eye on you just in case you decided to ‘be a hero’ as he put it. Looks like his instincts weren’t far off.”

  Berit smiled. “No, I guess they weren’t.” Even when he wasn’t physically near, Calier had a way of watching over her. Even going so far as enlisting help. “I may have overdone it a bit today. I guess I’m not quite as strong as I would like to believe.” Berit wiped the perspiration from her brow and looked into the woman’s warm smile. “Thank you again.”

  “My pleasure.” The woman looked at the pile of food underneath the shelf. She picked through the pile, discarding the overly bruised items before finding one to her satisfaction. Using a corner of her shirt, the woman wiped the dust and dirt from the fruit. Holding the fruit in the beam of her hand lamp, she inspected it and then held it out to Berit. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea if you ate something.”

  Berit accepted the proffered fruit. “Thank you,” she said, then took a bite. It had withered, but hadn’t gone completely bad. She looked at the woman and offered her free hand. “I’m Berit.”

  “Oyeb,” said the young woman, grasping Berit’s hand in her own.

  “I grew up in this village and I don’t remember seeing you before,” said Berit.

  “I’m not from the village. I’m actually from Gadol City. My husband and I were passing through and stopped for something to eat on the day of the attacks.”

  “Where were you going?”

  Oyeb offered her a small smile. “Honeymoon. We were married last week and left early on the morning of the attacks. We were on our way to a vacation home on the southern shore.” She had a faraway look in her eyes. “It was going to be glorious.”

  “Your husband…is he okay?”

  Berit watched as Oyeb returned from her daydream and refocused on the conversation. “Oh, yes. He’s helping some of the other men. I’m not sure how I would have gotten this far without him. Nasia is the rock keeping me from melting into a puddle and weeping for days.” Oyeb looked at Berit. “The professor seems very concerned about you. Are you two…”

  “No. Goodness, no. He found me hurt and distraught in the park and took care of me. He’s more like a father.” Berit looked up at the night sky. “I was to be married next week, but my Winnet…he didn’t make it out of the city.”

  Oyeb’s soft hand covered Berit’s. “I’m so sorry. You have my prayers.”

  “Thank you,” Berit whispered.

  Silence stood between them as Berit looked up. The stars were brilliant tonight, not a cloud in the sky, a welcome reprieve from the almost continual spring rains. She shifted as the rocks she sat on began to dig into her legs.

  “Well,” said Berit standing slowly. “If you’re willing, I could use someone’s help looking through the produce market we’ve uncovered.”

  “I would be delighted,” Oyeb said, beaming.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dillon ducked his head under the wing of Mrs. Norris. He absently ran his hand down along its underside, feeling the cold smoothness of the metal while scanning the message he’d just received from Command. It was a text version of the orders Shepherd had outlined in the meeting. His mind was already beginning to run scenarios mentally placing his team in various situations. This was the stuff he lived for, the strategy and planning led to a finely tuned squad executing at peak performance.

  The familiar feeling was coming back. The anticipation of facing an armed enemy combatant gave him an “amped” feeling. Dillon felt it every time he went into battle. He loved it. He missed it. Hunting the natives and capturing the females was fine, but they never fought back. This time, in the walled city, somebody would be shooting at him. Nothing got the adrenaline flowing like a good firefight.

  “What are you reading, Commander?” Morris poked his head out from behind their Valkyrie. He was carrying several boxes of equipment.

  “New orders,” Dillon said, his brows knitting together as he read more of the mission parameters.

  “Are we still hunting, or is there something new and exciting on the agenda?”

  Dillon looked up from his handheld and smiled. “New and exciting. Apparently a few of the natives have gotten a little spunky and caused trouble in one of the northern cities.”

  “Really,” Morris said, his interest piqued.

  “They’ve captured some weapons and a few important buildings. Our job is to go in, take the buildings and eliminate the resistance.”

  “That is new and exciting,” said Morris. “Live action. I don’t know if I’ve been shot at since Sydney.” His face took on a contemplative look. “Still have the scars to prove I survived.”

  Dillon nodded. Sydney was the bloodbath he wished he could wipe from his memory. He looked at Morris. “Round up the squad. I want to brief everybody in thirty minutes. Oh, and make sure everyone has cool weather gear. I hear it can be a bit nippy in the north.”

  “Commander, you know how I feel about the cold,” Morris shivered.

  Dillon slipped his handheld into the pocket of his fatigue pants. “Didn’t the mighty Continental Peace Federation promise you the chance to see new places when you signed on?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There you go. This is just the brass fulfilling their promise to you.” He slapped the younger man on the back. “Should be fun.” Dillon walked partway up the ramp into the assault craft. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Morris smartly.

  Dillon considered the young man for a moment. He was a great soldier, willing to do whatever was needed and fearless to the point of recklessness, but in a good way. “Okay, I’m off to have a discussion with our gregarious pilot.”

  “Have fun,” Morris said.

  Dillon walked up the cargo ramp, his footsteps echoing in the empty hold. He made his way to the front of the ship. Command would have already transmitted the parameters of their next mission to the Pilot, but he always liked to do a formal check before the mission started to make sure everything had been received. The last thing any commander wanted was to get into the field and have a mission blow up in his face when a simple pre-check could have avoided a misstep.

  He caught sight of her clean-shaved head. As far as Dillon could remember he had never seen the Pilot with any kind of hair. Not even a little stubble.

  The tech guys must do something to prohibit the growth of hair. Makes it easier to work on, he thought.

  A thick black cord extended from the base of her skull into the ship’s computers. He had once witnessed the techs doing maintenance and watched them un-jack the Pilot from the ships computers. Dillon still cringed as he remembered the techs withdrawing a four-inch piece of pointed metal out of the Pilot’s skull. It reminded him of pulling a knife out of summer watermelon. Anatomy and physiology weren’t strong suits in his academic regimen, but Dillon was pretty sure the human brain wasn’t meant to have a piece of metal rammed in it. Nor did he think the brain was meant to interface with a computer, but then again, he couldn’t argue with the results so far.

  He stepped into the cockpit. Everything was dark, no instrument lights were lit, and the Pilot sat in her usual spot with eyes closed. Dillon smiled as he wondered if the Pilot actually slept or if she was in some strange screen saver mode. He imagined pipes endlessly connecting to each other in random shapes until someone tapped a key.

  He cleared his throat. “Pilot.”

  Her eyelids snapped open and the cockpit came to life, lights igniting like sparks from a campfire. She turned her head to look at him.

  “Yes, Commander?”


  Dillon shifted his gaze. Looking into those empty eyes was like looking at a dead fish. “I…uh…wanted to make sure you had received the new orders.”

  “Affirmative, Commander. I have already plotted our course and re-calibrated the engines for maximum efficiency.”

  “Good.” He stared at his handheld and pretended to scroll through information to avoid looking at her. “Run a check on your sensory package. When we enter the city, we will be coming in low and hot. I don’t want to run into a surface-to-air missile because of faulty sensors.”

  She answered in her flat monotone, “Yes, Commander.”

  “I also want to do a test run on the braking thrusters once we get out in the grasslands. They seemed a little doggy last time we were out. If we can’t brake crisply, Parker has a hard time getting off a clean shot.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  He hesitated. What an odd creature, he thought.

  “Any further instructions, Commander?”

  “Ah…no. No further instructions, Pilot. Will we be ready to leave on time?”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Very good. Well…continue on with…whatever it was you were doing.”

  The Pilot turned her head and closed her eyes once again. One by one the indicator lights winked out. Dillon turned to leave, but stopped and studied the Pilot. Why was he so intrigued by this…whatever it was now, woman or machine or some weird hybrid? Every time he tried to get information on the Pilot program or his specific pilot he ran into a wall his security clearance wouldn’t allow him to climb over. He thought he had a right to know more since he put his life in the Pilot’s hands, or brain, every time they went up into the sky.

  “Pilot?”

  Once again the indicator light flared to life as she opened her eyes.

  “Yes, Commander?”

  He hesitated. “Where do you come from?”

  “I come from the Continental Peace Federation Pilot Initiative.”

  Dillon shook his head. “No, no. I mean before the Pilot Program. Where did you come from before the program? Who were you?”

  The Pilot was silent for a moment, and flatly replied, “I have always been a Pilot. There is no before.”

  Dillon forced himself to look into the blank fish eyes, their large dark pupils taking up almost all of the iris. He tried to see something, anything, but there was nothing. No hint of humanity, no feeling, no emotion. Perhaps she was just a machine. He blinked and looked away.

  “Carry on, Pilot.” He exited the cockpit without waiting for a reply. Perhaps it was better not to know what unholy science had created the Pilot. The rumors about what went on in those labs was enough to haunt dreams at night.

  What he couldn’t shake was the fact he was putting his life, and the lives of his crew, in the hands of someone’s science experiment. He pushed the questions out of his mind and like a good soldier replaced them with the cold hard facts of the mission parameters.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Calier straightened and placed his hands on his lower back. He twisted and bent at the waist, trying to alleviate his discomfort. His back was beginning to rebel after three nights of physical labor, and no amount of stretching had been able to remove the ache gripping his muscles like an iron fist. Even on digs he didn’t work this hard. Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself his fifty-something-year-old body was not the same as it had been in his thirties.

  Over the last several evenings, the people had fallen to the task of scavenging through the village looking for whatever would be useful, yet light enough to carry. Calier marveled at their work ethic and industriousness. He had provided the basic plan, the skeleton framework of the building, as it were, and they were filling in the holes. There were several capable leaders among the seventeen people (not counting himself, Maltoki or Berit). With a plan before them, the villagers took charge and pressed forward with what needed to be done. It helped that many of them knew each other and what gifts they brought to the situation. Calier had been glad to fall in line and help wherever he was needed. The feeling of “doing”, of executing a plan, comforted Calier and he assumed it had done the same for the others.

  People weren’t meant to sit and brood. It did bad things to the mind and body.

  Denar moved past, dragging a tarp. A small pile of rope, pots, and small tools rattled against each other. He looked at Calier, nodded and kept moving. He worked alone and the others were more than willing to give him space. Several times Calier attempted to engage him in conversation and learn more about him, but he only received a scowl and one word answers in response. Since then, he’d simply left Denar alone.

  A sliver of Zontu, the first moon, shone its silver light down on the village. He gazed at the moon and for the first time he could ever remember, Calier wondered what else was out there beyond the protective atmosphere of his home world. He knew there were stars and moons and planets, but other life? For so long his people had been so focused on killing each other they hadn’t had time to look beyond Aereas. After the Great Peace, many advances had been made in science, but the idea of exploring beyond their atmosphere was scoffed at. There were those who wanted to and petitioned for resources every year, but the amount of capital needed to take someone above the clouds was better served fighting sickness and eradicating poverty. Communication and scientific satellites had been placed in orbit, but that was the extent of the Am’Segid’s reach into the black void of space.

  Perhaps they should have been more watchful of the heavens, he mused.

  Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him, and he saw the faint outline of a woman in a dress walking toward him. As she drew near, he smiled when he saw the colorful scarf around Berit’s head. In her hand she held a bottle of water and offered it to him.

  “You looked a little parched.”

  “I am,” he said and nodded his head gratefully as he took a long drink of the cool water. Several of the men - Bormar, Nasia and Tehome - found an old pitcher pump on the edge of town in what was left of a farmer’s barn. They repaired the damaged pump, and water had once again flowed in the village.

  After wiping a dribble of water from his lips with the sleeve of his shirt, Calier screwed the cap on the bottle and handed it back to Berit.

  “I think I’m going to sit for a few minutes before I fall down.” He settled himself onto the ground and Berit joined him. She fussed with the hem of her dress, brushing dust from the folds.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Holding her hand in front of her and wobbling it side-to-side, she said, “Better, but I still feel weak. It’s the fatigue slowing me down. I get tired quickly. I’m glad you wanted to sit down, because I might have been the one who fell over if we hadn’t.” She unscrewed the lid and took a drink of her own. “Oyeb has been very helpful. We’ve got our own little duo, helping where we can.”

  Calier smiled, “She seems very nice and her husband Nasia is a great worker. I think he’s a biologist.” He wiped his dusty hands on his pant legs. “Well, you’re looking better, that’s for sure. I noticed in the cellar before we came out there was a little more color in your face.”

  It was funny to think, but he had known this woman for only a handful of days, and yet his affection for her and his care for her welfare was very deep. For some reason he felt like it was his duty to step into the role her father would have filled had he been there. Hopefully, when they reached her family’s farm within a day or two, Berit’s father would be able to fill the role again.

  Calier closed his eyes, taking in the quiet sounds of people working near him. The nearly overpowering desire to keep his eyes closed and drift off to sleep surprised him. He was beyond tired. The exhaustion seemed to pervade every fiber of his body. If he didn’t open his eyes soon, there was every possibility they would remain closed for several days. Would it be so bad to take a little nap? As his willpower began to fail and he succomed to the blessed peace of sleep, Berit broke the silence.

  “H
ow long did you work for the university, Professor?” Berit asked in her melodic voice. Calier had never heard her sing, but the sound of her speaking voice left no doubt she could charm the birds from the trees.

  Blinking his eyes open, Calier yawned and said, “Oh, let’s see. It seems like I’ve always worked there. I enrolled at sixteen, but then didn’t focus on my studies, and became academically ineligible to continue.”

  Berit looked surprised. “A bit of a wild child in your younger days?”

  Calier smiled. “Yes, a bit. Let’s just say I found life in the big city…distracting. Lucky for me, an acquaintance of my parents worked in the maintenance department. My father convinced him to hire me as an apprentice of sorts. I helped him with his duties in all the buildings. It kept me around the university, which I think was my father’s plan all along.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “Lord, no!” Calier laughed. “I hated every minute of it, and was terrible at the job as well. Apparently I don’t possess the natural acumen to fix things. I did pick up a few useful skills, but soldering pipes and installing solar panels just wasn’t my thing. That man, old Jephthan, seemed to have unlimited patience, because I broke more things than I fixed.”

  Calier shook his head, remembering Jephthan, how he had clinked when he walked, the tools in his back pocket connecting with each step the man took.

  “On my breaks I would wander into the antiquities building. At first I just looked at the exhibits and then eventually I started reading from the library. I would lose track of time and find an hour had passed. Old Jephthan never said a thing.” Calier rocked back and laughed. “It was probably a relief to him, and I’m sure he was able to get more done without me.

  “An antiquities professor had noticed me reading in the library several times and we struck up a conversation. Although he never admitted it, I’m sure Jephthan set up the meeting. If for no other reason than to get me out of his hair.

  “Professor Donru tutored me for two years and then talked the university officials into letting me begin taking classes on a probationary basis. So, three years after being kicked out of the university, I was back attending classes and working with Professor Donru in the antiquities department. They haven’t been able to get rid of me since. After graduating, I gladly accepted a teaching and research position. Thirty-five years later, I’m still digging up old stuff and boring students in the classroom.”