Nomad: Freedom Is Never Free

by Todd Brill

  He thought of the dark sea, calming his jittery nerves. He centered himself on the calm sea, floating along. He was detached but aware. He looked around the scene as if he were watching a movie.

  The floor through the doorway was riddled with holes and little blast marks as the punishing assault continued. He saw Telarch and Hiyadi alternating return fire when they could, just escaping back behind the doorway as the guards returned fire. If only they had a barricade or something they could use for cover to push out through the doorway, he thought.

  Then Nomad remembered his experience at the main gate with the black sky. Guards had been shooting at him but couldn’t hit him because of the energy and hurricane-powered wind surrounding him. He could be a barricade. Even if they managed to shoot him, it would give his team the opening they needed to get into the yard and take the office. The amulet throbbed in agreement, and he slipped it back into his shirt.

  Nomad looked over his shoulder at Overwinter and nodded. Overwinter had a strange look on his face as wispy smoke tendrils wound themselves around Nomad’s body.

  Nomad stood, his eyes focused on something distant. A black horizon over the dark sea that no one else could sense. He could feel the power of the black sky again leaking in from the open doorway. He could feel its anticipation, and he could hear its distant black thunder.

  He began walking toward the doorway. He could see Hiyadi and Telarch were looking at him with alarm, but he just smiled at them. He was peaceful and centered, floating on the powerful dark sea, sailing to the horizon with the power of the black sky. Riding the crests and falls of black energy waves and raw purpose.

  As he approached the doorway, the smoky black wisps became darker and thicker, surrounding him like an ethereal wool blanket, knitting themselves together tighter and tighter. The shooting from the yard had stopped.

  Then he was through the doorway and in the yard. His senses expanded to fill the large open space. He could sense the guards on the roof of the camp office, could feel their hesitation and fear at the strange sight in front of them. The skies were darkening above, threatening another squall.

  The guards began shooting again. Hesitantly at first, then with more vigor as they began to realize they weren’t hitting the cloud-enshrouded alien coming through the doorway at them.

  Nomad’s feet weren’t touching the ground. The air whirled around him like before, lifting him slightly off the ground and moving him closer and closer to the office. Rounds skittered and zagged around him. The ones that might have hit him flattened uselessly against the black sky surrounding him and fell to the ground.

  The power of the black sky grew around him, electrifying the air. His hair was standing on end but he felt nothing but warm comfort and a slight breeze from inside his dark cocoon of smoky energy. He motioned at the roof of the office with one hand and asked the black sky to do something.

  The sky opened in a massive vacuum, sucking air from the entire area in a vortex. Debris and dirt spun into a massive whirlwind and gathered in strength threatening to pluck the guards right off the roof. They held on for their lives, dropping their rifles. They were screaming and some were crying.

  Nomad lowered his hand and spoke in a booming voice toward the office.

  “Surrender and join us or you will all die here today,” he said. His voice sounded different. Hollow and impassive. Almost inhuman. The vacuum subsided somewhat and the guards were lowered back to the roof slightly.

  “Okay! Okay!” they screamed. “We give up!”

  Nomad willed the wind to wither and slow, but not to stop. The guards climbed down from the roof and exited the offices with their rifles slung and arms above their heads in surrender. Telarch and Hiyadi took them back into the office just as more shots rang out from the surrounding grounds.

  There were several guards in the remaining towers inside the grounds. Once the office was taken and his team safely inside, Nomad turned his attention to the towers. His voice carried by the power of the black sky.

  “Your Leader is a lie!” he yelled. “He uses the power you’ve given him to turn you and your families into his slaves. We’re here to free you. You can be free and alive or free by dying here today. It’s your choice, but either way, you’ll be free today. Lay down your weapons and join us or support the false Leader and die!”

  There was a pause. Nomad willed the black sky to grow and could feel the doubt and fear in the guards. Some of them were considering what he said. A few were loyal, however, and would not be turned. Shots rained down around them, and Nomad sighed.

  He raised his arms and let his will loose on the black sky. The air shimmered and crackled with white hot electrical energy. What limited light filtering through was choked even further, plunging the prison into pseudo-night.

  The air suddenly stopped moving for a split second just before the ground shook, and five simultaneous bolts of lightning struck each of the towers, reducing them to rubble.

  There was a silent pause as everyone regained their sight and began breathing again. The flash of the five bolts had blinded everyone, except Nomad, and like a succubus, had sucked out their breath. Some of his team were holding their heads as if they were about to explode, wild panic in their eyes.

  The guards Nomad sensed were going to surrender had been safely blown clear of the towers by massive gusts of wind just before the bolts struck. They stood at the foot of the shattered towers, dumbfounded as to how they had survived. Nomad eased the power of the black sky and allowed some sunlight to permeate the grounds again.

  Nomad looked to his friends to plan their next move. Hiyadi was crouched on the ground beside a small body on the ground. He was rapidly bandaging a bloody wound. Nomad stepped closer to see who had been hit.

  It was Telarch. The volley of rounds just before the lightning had slashed into his left arm and shoulder. There was burgundy soaked through his combat tunic and his face had paled.

  “I’m fine,” Telarch grunted weakly, seeing Nomad’s shocked expression. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”

  “Process those guards and police their weapons,” yelled Overwinter to the others who had started to mill about Telarch and Nomad. They slowly turned and followed his orders.

  “I’m sorry, Tel,” said Nomad, stricken. Telarch scoffed.

  “Sorry? For what? I shoulda been behind cover. This is on me, my friend.”

  “He needs proper medical attention as soon as possible,” said Hiyadi. “I’ve stopped the bleeding for now, but he needs a hospital and surgery to repair the damaged artery or he may lose his arm.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” grimaced Telarch. “Just finish the mission. Worry about me afterward.”

  “Can you get him back to Danik?” said Nomad, his hands shaking as he reached out to grab Telarch’s good hand.

  “Stop talking about me like I ain’t here!” shouted Telarch. He winced at the effort, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Hiyadi paused for a moment.

  “Yes. However, that would mean I would need to leave you and that could endanger the mission. We could leave him here in the office and return for him once we are done.”

  Nomad thought for a moment. Hiyadi was right. Nomad needed him to continue the assault and rescue the prisoners. His heart, however, was conflicted. His friend was seriously injured and could die if they just left him here. That was unacceptable. Danik could keep him safe and tend to his wound if needed. If they failed the mission and he was with Danik, she could possibly get him to safety and a doctor. If they failed and he was still in the office, he would certainly die.

  “Take him to Danik,” ordered Nomad. “Then get your ass back here. Don’t let him die, Hiyadi.”

  “Understood,” said Hiyadi. He reached underneath Telarch and wrapped one arm around his shoulders where his rifle was slung. He stood suddenly, easily lifting the small man in his arms without showing any effort. Nomad had almost forgotten how strong and fast Hiyadi could be.

  “We’ll see you soon, Tel
,” said Nomad, shaking Telarch’s blood-splattered hand.

  “He’s never gonna let me hear the end of this,” growled Telarch weakly. He was referring to Hiyadi.

  “Assuming that your weak, biological body survives,” said Hiyadi, grinning. Then he turned and trotted off toward the exit. Overwinter called Danik on the radio to let her know what had happened.

  Nomad watched his friends leave the grounds, worried he might never see them again. He was losing people he cared about again. This was why he could never be close to people back on Earth. They always went away and left him alone.

  23

  Nomad turned his attention to the far side of the camp where the anti-aircraft gun was supposed to be. He led his team quickly through the camp, threading their way through the shacks and debris from the fight.

  They used explosives to extirpate the gates and stepped through their smoking remains into the main work-yard. The gun had obviously been put here recently. Nomad had been through this area every day for months and there was never a large artillery piece like this here before.

  The rough-looking brass gun was surrounded by sandbags and barbed wire and was manned by three nervous-looking purple aliens in camp guard uniforms. Nomad didn’t recognize the first two, but the third was the camp sergeant, his face contorted in rage.

  “Nomad!” he yelled. “I told you things wouldn’t go well for you. Yet here you are, causing trouble. Go back the way you came, and nobody else will get hurt, I promise you.”

  Nomad was confused at first. How did the sergeant expect to hurt them? He was outnumbered and outgunned. He had a large anti-aircraft gun but he would be lucky to get a single shot off before being overrun and killed. Nomad noticed the sergeant had already leveled the gun and instead aiming it into the sky, he had it targeted at a group of huddled and obviously frightened prisoners at the far end of the courtyard.

  “Sergeant!” hollered Nomad back, fighting the urge to lash out at him in anger. “Your fight’s over. We’ve won today. Nobody else needs to get hurt and you don’t need to die today. They aren’t fighters,” he said, pointing at the huddled prisoners. “They’re poor, tired prisoners who just want to go home. What will you accomplish by hurting them?”

  “I’ll make sure you pay dearly for killing my friends and comrades!” shrieked the sergeant, his face turning slightly pinkish-red. “I’ll make sure the Leader knows who his true comrades are! And I’ll make sure I correct an earlier mistake of mine in letting you live!” The sergeant tapped one of the guards on the shoulder who then reached down, grabbed a large shell, and began loading it into the gun.

  “Don’t do this, sergeant!” yelled Nomad, the rising tide of the dark sea lifting him slightly off the ground. “These people have the right to be free!”

  “Were they free to invade our world? Steal our resources? Pollute our culture? Our way of life is being violated by these… these filthy aliens. No! Unacceptable!”

  The guard had finished loading and the gunner was now adjusting the gun slightly at the huddled group of ragged prisoners. There were men, women, and children huddled together against the back fence line. They would certainly all be killed if the gun were fired into them.

  Nomad closed his eyes and succumbed to the dark sea, lifting several feet from the ground. Just as before, a black wispy nimbus surrounded him and the sky darkened. The guards and the sergeant stared at Nomad, their mouths agape.

  A terrible rending sound pealed from the sky overhead and a bolt of white-blue lightning flashed to the ground striking the gun and its crew. Everyone standing in the courtyard was momentarily blinded and their ears left ringing.

  The heavy, dark clouds above opened and a torrent of rain slashed across the smoky yard. Nomad lowered to the ground, his eyes opening again. The black misty smoke dissipated in a brisk wind.

  The gun was mutilated and broken. The bodies of the sergeant and two guards lay grotesquely askew in their places, blackened and smoking. Nomad looked to where the prisoners had been standing.

  The fence and the wall behind it were gone. There were blackened bodies everywhere and the body parts that had been blown clear of their hosts lie scattered about the impact. Nomad gagged, then doubled over and vomited on the muddy ground.

  The lightning had struck the gun, igniting the round inside the chamber, which fired at the defenseless prisoners killing them all. There must have been about twenty half-starved, exhausted, and frightened people killed for no reason. And it was Nomad’s fault.

  Nomad fell to his knees in the mud and retched again, his mind reeling at what he had just done. His breathing was shallow and rapid and he was seeing stars. He pounded his fists into the reddish-brown mud now covering the courtyard. The rain continued to empty from the clouds above.

  His rage and grief consumed him. He stood up and lost his mind to the whirling black sky.

  Nomad then slept. At least, it felt like sleep. He dreamt strange dreams. He dreamed of Jorune and her kind little face. He dreamed of Danik and her beautiful smile. He saw little Yola the first time they met, when she smiled up at him and said hello his first day in the prison camp.

  He wanted to stay in those dreams forever. They were all the happy times he’d had since coming to this planet. He’d been a prisoner, but he’d found love and kindness and friendship. Even though they were doomed to die building the Leader’s machine, they had found each other and had worked together and found love.

  Now it was all gone. The black clouds obscured the vision of his friends. Everything was lost. He fought to escape from this place with dreams of freedom and peace, but it ended in death and destruction and nightmares. He had killed the people he had most wanted to protect because of his rage and thirst for revenge. Nomad had used violence to oppose the Leader and his followers, and that violence had a steep cost.

  How many people had died because of this? Hundreds? Thousands? How many more would suffer and die? His thoughts cut and twisted and turned inside him as if he had swallowed a scalpel. It tore at his insides, making him bleed. He cursed himself for his stupidity.

  Nomad imagined what would happen if he gave up. Let the blade finish its work and release him from this pain. What then? He could escape the pain and retreat within the black sky hovering over the dark sea, endlessly churning but soundless. No murder. No loss. No struggle. Nothing but dark quiet nothing.

  For a moment, he let go. Nomad felt himself floating on nothing, his body buoyed by the gentle waves of the dark sea, bobbing up and down. Floating into the churning darkness like a life raft adrift from a horrible disaster.

  He looked up from his life raft. The clouds were dark and moved at supernatural speed. He could see hidden flashes of lightning within the clouds, highlighting their puffy escarpments and heavy, black udders. They rumbled angrily. Nomad could feel their anger and power.

  As he lay there, the clouds parted slightly. Behind this small hole, he could see open sky and light. The clouds shifted like they were being pushed away until the small hole took shape.

  The hole looked like a small humanoid carrying a little walking stick. It neatly framed the now blue sky, allowing sunlight to fall like a beacon down on his limp body in the life raft. Nomad suddenly recognized the blue light of the sky. It was her light. Jorune’s serene, warm light.

  Nomad wept. The tears flowing down his face as his body shook and convulsed in anguish.

  “I couldn’t save you!” he yelled at the blue hole in the black sky. “I couldn’t save them!”

  “Some will always be lost when the stakes are high,” said a small voice from beside him. It was Jorune.

  She was sitting on the raft beside him, her hands resting on top of her bone stick. She looked down at him sadly. He sat up suddenly.

  “You can’t be here,” he whispered, still convulsing in despair. “You died, Jorune.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “But I also told you that a part of me would be with you so long as you wore my amulet.” She raised her stick
and poked him gently in the chest where the amulet lay warm against his muddy flesh.

  Nomad looked down and brought out the amulet, which was glowing slightly and humming softly in his mind.

  “I am your memory of Jorune. Her essence as you perceive it. The being that was Jorune died that day, as you know. But your memory and that part of her she imbued in the amulet you now wear, live on, Nomad. And you too must live on,” she said.

  “How can I after what I’ve done?” said Nomad, stricken. “How do I live knowing what I’ve done. The destruction and death I’ve caused?”

  “Did you intend to hurt people who were innocent?” said Jorune, her impossibly blue eyes seeming to look right through Nomad.

  “Of course not!” he yelled.

  “Sometimes, you need to break a few eggs to make an omelet,” she said. Nomad was shocked. How would this little alien from another world know about an old Earth saying like that?

  “Remember, I am a part of you just as you are a part of me,” said Jorune, reading his thoughts. “I know your thoughts because I am your memory of Jorune, remember?”

  He thought for a moment. It was beginning to make sense. The amulet worked as a sort of focus. It gave his mind something to focus on when he needed insight. What better person to provide that insight than the memories of his teacher and friend?

  “I see you’ve discovered some power on your own,” said Jorune, motioning to the sky and sea. “It’s very dark.” Nomad just nodded, wiping his wet face.

  “You’ll find that listening to yourself is just as important as listening to the things and people around you,” she continued. “It isn’t enough to just focus on external things. Your own personhood is important too. You matter, Nomad. You are important too.” She emphasized each ‘you’ by poking him in the chest gently with her stick. “Don’t lose sight of the forest for the trees. Likewise, you must not become so introspective as to lose touch with reality. It’s really a matter of balance, Ted.”

  Jorune stood on the little raft and looked up at the roiling black sky.