Sojourners: Farpointe Initiative Book Two

by Aaron Hubble

  “Thirty-five years? That would put you…” Berit did the mental calculation. “In your fifties. Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed you to be in your fifties. You certainly don’t seem my father’s age,” Berit said.

  Calier laughed. “You just became my favorite person. Look at these temples.” He pointed to the side of his head, where gray was encroaching upon the once vivid red. “You’ll see there’s more gray than color these days.”

  A voice piped up from somewhere in the darkness. “The professor’s older than some of the dirt he digs in.”

  Turning, Calier saw Maltoki emerge from the darkness and replied. “Automatic fail in your next class. Automatic fail.”

  The young man carried a shovel on one shoulder and a large bag over the other. It was full of items he had found in the debris, Calier guessed.

  Berit looked at Calier and rolled her eyes the way a sister would at an annoying little brother. Then she brushed the sweaty hair from around Calier’s ears. “Don’t listen to him, Professor. I think it looks very distinguished. Just like my father.”

  A dark shadow passed over Berit’s face and her smile faded. He reached his arm out, draped it across her shoulders, and pulled her closer.

  “Hey, it’s okay to be scared for your parents. Hopefully we’ll find them tomorrow. Ibris said when we leave the village, the direction we’re traveling will take us right past their farm. He’s hoping their umbaku are still there and we can use them to help on the journey.”

  She nodded and palmed the moisture away from her eyes. “I know. I’m just so worried for them. Losing them as well as Winnet...”

  Maltoki set aside his shovel and crouched down on the ground beside them. “Whatever happens, whatever we find, Calier and I, not to mention the other seventeen members of this new family, are all here for you.”

  The smile returned to her lips briefly. “Thank you. You have no idea what it means to have you two looking after me.”

  “I think we do,” Calier said. “You’ve been doing the same for us ever since you made it back on your feet. Like Maltoki said, we’re in this together. One thing I know about Maltoki is even if you want to get rid of him, you won’t be able to.”

  “That’s right. I’m the annoying little brother you always wished you had.” Maltoki stood and offered his hand to Berit and then to Calier. “Time to quit all this emotional stuff and get back to work.”

  Groaning, Calier stood and put his gloves back on. He picked up his sack of scavenged items and turned back toward the task at hand.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hunched behind a parapet wall, Dillon studied the target from the rooftop of an adjacent building. The building, the one housing the city’s power plant, was virtually untouched by the initial aerial bombardment. In fact, a great deal of this walled city appeared unscathed. It was easy to see the Helix fighters had used more precise strikes in this city due to its value as a center of operations for the extraction program. Dillon couldn’t help but be impressed by the depth and scope of the whole Farpoint Initiative. The CPF had done their homework and executed a well-thought-out plan.

  Unfortunately, things like the will to live sometimes delayed those plans.

  “Magnify by a factor of ten,” Dillon whispered inside his helmet. The building grew larger in his heads-up display. He studied a door that opened onto a landing. It seemed the best way to gain access. There were no windows this high up on the side the door was set in. It was time to check in with Olrun team. They had taken up a position on an opposite rooftop. A third team was on the ground, but several blocks away. They would move in once the other two teams had engaged the enemy and caused confusion.

  “Olrun team. This is Dillon.”

  “Copy, Dillon. This is Alden. Go ahead.”

  “Alden, we’re in position on the rooftop, and we’ve located a doorway. Do you have eyes on any of the natives?”

  Dillon’s comm crackled. “Negative. From our rooftop it’s all quiet.”

  Surveying the target building one more time, he spoke into his comm. “I don’t believe we’re dealing with a trained military organization here. They’re probably all asleep right now. I’m sending one man over to see what he can find.”

  “Understood. We’ll hold tight until you give the word.”

  Dillon motioned to Morris. “Get a line over to the building, and then I want you to ride it across and get in as quietly as you can. Survey the top floor and then radio me with what you find.”

  “Yes, sir.” Morris nodded and moved off to secure a line.

  “Parker, are you there?” Dillon asked.

  The deep voice of his sniper came across the comm. “Right here, Commander.”

  Stationed on a rooftop facing the street side of the power plant, Parker had been tasked with taking out anyone he could see through the windows.

  “Tell me what you see, my friend.”

  “All quiet so far,” Parker said. “I get the feeling they’re all sleeping. The lack of pressure the last two days may have given them a false sense of security. Maybe they thought we were going to leave them alone.”

  “Maybe,” Dillon replied. “I’m sending Morris over. He may stir up some activity over there once he’s in. Don’t hesitate to take shots when you have them. Morris is tagged, so he should show red in your scope. Don’t shoot him. He’s a pain in the neck, but not entirely worthless.”

  “I heard that,” Morris said over the comm.

  Dillon smiled behind the faceplate of his helmet. “Worry about the line, Morris.”

  “Sending it over now, Commander.”

  Morris leveled a specially designed rifle at the building. He squeezed the trigger, and Dillon heard a muffled hiss and watched the projectile fly toward the building, letting out a line of high tensile cord behind it. The anchor struck the stone building a foot above the door frame. It temporarily secured itself with three hooks and then augured into the stone to set the primary anchor. Morris attached his end of the line using the same auguring device.

  “Primary anchors are set, sir,” Morris said.

  “Have a safe trip, Morris.” Dillon gave him thumbs-up and watched the man attach what looked like a pair of bicycle handles with a harness to the line. Morris stepped into the harness with practiced ease, clipped onto the line and stepped off the edge of the building, silently sliding toward the landing.

  Fifteen seconds later, Dillon saw Morris flash him thumbs-up from the landing. There was a small flash of light as Morris melted the lock with his plasma torch. The lieutenant unshouldered his rifle and disappeared through the door.

  “Morris, Aedean: tactical camera,” Dillon spoke into his helmet. A small window opened in his heads-up display, seeming to project several feet in front of him. Dillon saw what Morris saw thanks to the camera mounted in Morris’ helmet. The scene was one of an open room lined with desks, communication equipment, and everything one would expect to see in an office setting. The room looked to be in a bit of chaos, most likely the result of people being at their desks when the invasion began. Dillon wondered how many of them had made it home that day and what they’d found.

  The camera panned around the room, and then Morris checked behind desks and around partitions. “No one’s home, Commander.”

  “We’re on our way, Morris,” Dillon said before switching channels. “Alden, I’m sending the rest of my team over. If you have a way into the top level, meet us there and then we’ll clear each floor as we descend,” Dillon said.

  “Understood. See you inside,” Alden replied.

  Dillon gave a few hand signals to the rest of his men and one by one they strapped into their harnesses and slid down the line to the landing. Dillon was the last to clip in. Before stepping off the lip, he touched the side of his helmet and raised the visor. It was against protocol, but he liked the wind in his face. Stepping off the ledge, he felt the tension in the harness, and the leftover smell of smoke from the city drifted to his nose. It was a beautiful night, but he ha
d no time to enjoy it. Several all-too-quick seconds later his feet touched the metal grating of the landing. He lowered his visor once again and activated the night vision. After he unclipped from the line, he stepped into the room, rifle at the ready. His team was gathered near a doorway leading to a set of stairs. Alden’s voice came over the comm.

  “We’ve secured a line to the roof and we will be sliding over and then dropping to the same landing you used. Don’t shoot us when we enter.”

  “Understood. We’re getting ready to descend a set of stairs. Head down after you’re all safely across,” Dillon said.

  Dillon hustled over to the doorway and began walking down the dark stairway. His boots made more noise than he would have liked, echoing down the stairwell.

  When they came to the next floor, Dillon knelt down. Leading with his rifle, he carefully opened the door. He saw more desks and what looked to him like monitoring equipment. This must have been where they kept track of all the vital workings of the power plant. Dillon held up a hand, letting his men know he would go in first. He pushed the door open and moved into the room, staying as low as possible. Swinging his rifle in a 180-degree arc, he covered the room but saw no one. He stood taller and took several breaths while scanning the room.

  A large window to his left shattered, and glass imploded into the room. Dillon hit the floor, rifle trained in the direction of the window. A body fell off a tall cabinet and hit the floor. His men flooded into the room and took up defensive positions around him.

  “Sir! Are you hit?” Morris asked.

  “No. I’m okay,” he said as Morris helped him to his feet.

  “Saved your bacon again, Commander,” Parker’s voice deadpanned in his ear. “When you stood up I caught a bit of movement and took the shot.”

  Dillon walked over to the body and nudged it with the toe of his boot. It was a young native man who now sported a nice hole in his forehead compliments of Parker. At his side lay a CPF-issued sniper rifle.

  “We’ve found our sniper, or at least one of them. Thanks, Parker.”

  “My pleasure, Commander. You really should be more careful,” Parker said.

  Dillon turned to his men. “It’s reasonable to assume the rest know we’re here. Keep your heads up and let’s keep moving down.”

  Alden’s team entered through the door. “We heard a commotion. Is everything okay?”

  “We’re good now. Parker took out the sniper. He won’t be taking potshots at our guys anymore.”

  “Good,” Alden said. “There were too many vermin in this city anyway.”

  Dillon nodded. “Alden, check for another exit out of this floor. If there is one, we can split up and coordinate clearing floors, making this little exercise a bit more efficient.”

  “I like the way you think,” Alden said, and motioned for his men to follow him. They jogged to the far end of the room out of Dillon’s sight. Dillon moved his team to the stairs and they began to descend once again.

  “We found a hallway and several other rooms on this floor. We’re going to investigate and then descend by this second stairway,” Alden said.

  “Good hunting,” Dillon said.

  They descended another flight of stairs and entered a room with similar monitoring equipment. They were in the process of searching the room when an explosion rocked the floor above them.

  “Alden!” Dillon yelled. There was no response over his comm. “Alden, respond!”

  “Commander Alden is down, and we’re trapped in a room on the floor you just left. They ambushed us and…”

  Weapons fire ripped across his comm, the sound tearing deep into his ears. A scream of pain came next followed by a wet gurgling noise. More gunfire sounded, but it seemed further away than the first barrage. An eerie silence followed. A harsh voice came across the radio in a language he recognized as indigenous. A second later he heard the words in his own language as the translation unit in his helmet parsed the tongue.

  “If anyone is listening, know you have awoken the spirit of the ancients within the Am’Segid and we will fight and kill to take back what is ours.”

  Morris lifted his visor and Dillon did the same.

  “Did you hear that, Commander?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “Let’s give them exactly what they want.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The night they left the village a steady drizzle fell from the sky. Calier adjusted the straps on his pack, settling it on his shoulders, and blinked through the raindrops as he peered up into the heavens. He hoped the invaders didn’t like water and were staying where it was dry this night. The last thing they needed was for this little adventure to end before it even began.

  Ibris stepped into the circle of villagers. Calier watched as he met the eyes of each person. “Okay, the plan is to follow the river, staying in the trees as long as we can. Eventually we will cut back toward the north at the jog in the river. That should take us to Ganjge and Issae’s farm. The first priority is locating our brother and sister and then seeing if any of their umbaku herd is still in the corral.”

  Denar grunted from the back of the group. “If you’re counting on the umbaku to outrun a ship or hide you from a night stalker, think again.”

  Ibris ignored him and looked toward Calier, “Professor, any words for us before we start out?”

  Caught off guard, Calier searched his mind for something to say. The people seemed to be looking toward him for inspiration. It was as if he and Ibris had formed two halves of a leadership team. Ibris the practical, get-people-moving part and he the big picture, inspiration guy. For someone who had spent his life sequestered in libraries, books, and far-flung isolated parts of Aereas, it was a bit disconcerting.

  “Ahh…ummm…” then he remembered a long-buried story from the history of the Am’Segid. “The soil we stand upon was not always the home of the Am’Segid. Our people came from a place far to the south, over the blue waters of the Oba’ter Ocean. The ancients lived on a lush island, where they wanted for nothing. The stories say when they put seed into the ground, crops always grew. They never worried about enough rain to sustain the plants, or plagues of pests who would devour what was not theirs. It was a different time, and the people were blessed. The civilization flourished; philosophy, art, science and technology reached a great level. Eventually, the people began to take their land for granted. They forgot to be thankful for what they had and began to be filled with pride. Greed began to take hold of the hearts of some people. They took more than was theirs, while others didn’t have enough. This went against every principle of their culture.”

  Calier paused and wiped the rain from his face. He wondered if he was taking too long, but the people stood in rapt attention. Seeing their interest, he continued.

  “Some time later, the mountain standing in the middle of the island began to shake, and smoke was seen coming from the peak. A man named Awon, a respected scientist, began to worry as the mountain continued to tremble for many months. Several small earthquakes shook the island. Awon studied the phenomenon and concluded the mountain was a volcano and would soon erupt, causing the destruction of everything on the island. Taking his findings to his leaders, he explained what he thought was coming, but they laughed and sent him away. Finding no one of influence who would help him, Awon turned to his friends and family. Some believed, and some thought he was crazy. Those who did believe him devised a radical plan to leave the island and everything they had ever known. They built something never seen before, boats capable of sailing far from the island. The people had explored the reef around the island, but had never ventured out of sight of their home because there was no need to go very far.

  “The fateful day finally came. The mountain exploded and everything was burned and covered in ash. Awon and his followers barely escaped in their boats. They watched from the ocean as their civilization was destroyed, and the island itself crumbled into the sea. Great tidal waves caused by the explosion s
wept over the ships and battered them, but miraculously, they all survived.

  “The Ger’ana, as they called themselves, which means sojourners in ancient Aerean, followed the currents and eventually washed up on the southern shores of the continent we all now call home.

  “They found a wild, untamed land, much different than their island. The Ger’ana struggled and fought for survival for years; nothing came easy. Some simply folded under the strain and died in the new wild country, but others persisted and refused to be subdued. When at last they had established a new society and a new life they gave up the name of Ger’ana. No longer sojourners, they became the Am’Segid, the people who worship. They made a vow to never forget where their blessings truly came from.”

  Pausing, he looked at the people gathered around him. They were his people, his family, and in them the Am’Segid would either rise to the challenge facing them or fall into captivity and extinction.

  “It’s not enough for us to simply exist and survive. We must persist, regroup, and rebuild. I have no doubt someday we will reclaim Aereas for ourselves. It’s time to start that journey tonight, become Ger’ana once again, and embrace the steel that must have run through the spines of those people as they battled the ocean and then this land for survival. Our enemy is of another type, but just as ruthless. Courage is moving forward despite the fears in our hearts. That’s what it means to be Ger’ana. That’s what it will take to make Aereas ours once again.”

  He looked into the eyes of those gathered around him and saw what he was looking for, saw their collected strength. Pride welled up in him. He quickly turned, hiding the tears, and began walking out of the burned and broken remains of the village. Behind him he heard the crunch of gravel and the shuffling of feet as the people followed him through the rain and into the darkness.