The first course of action he took was to leave the facility grounds. Logic dictated he needed to be as far from it as possible by the time the Banimpire realized what had taken place. He needed to buy as much time as possible, so he ran every chance opportunity allowed.
Off in the distance lied a dense forest. He concluded it would be a good place to hide. So like a thief on a dim-lit street that casts many shadows, he scurried away.
Five hours later, he arrived at the edge of the trees. The journey had exhausted his legs. He figured he had walked fifteen miles. One hundred feet beyond the tree line, he stopped to rest. Every muscle in his body ached. Cool, damp air began to settle in with the first signs of night fall. He needed a warm place to bed down and needed to find one quickly.
Putting the thought of being tired toward the back of his mind, he pressed on. Deeper into the wilderness he went. He climbed up and down several steep hills. Choosing a path to avoid the lower branches on the smaller trees allowed him to gain more ground in a shorter amount of time.
Before long, he entered into a limited clearing. A small creek flowed from east to west. With little effort, he jumped over. He turned and looked back at it. The temptation to take a drink was nothing more than a fleeting thought. There would be no way he would consume something he knew nothing about. One never knows what kind of contaminants or viral strains camouflage themselves within the beauty of nature.
Besides, something else had caught his attention. What piqued his interest was a small shack at the other end of the clearing. Up next to the tree line was a quaint little dwelling when in its prime. Its appearance suggested no one had dwelled in it for many years.
There were no bright-colored dyes coating its exterior. Instead, there was a grayish-blue hue to it. Dark green splotches of pollen mold could be seen in areas where sunlight rarely shined. Obviously, many years of harsh weather had taken its toll upon the face of the home. Other than that, it seemed weather proof.
Slowly and quietly, he inched his way closer to the shanty. As he neared one side, the first thought he had about this place being empty began to dwindle away. On the ground underneath a window were chips of purple bark left from sticks of firewood had once been stacked for heating purposes. Most of it seemed fresh. A reliable ax leaned against the wall under protection of the eaves.
Without warning, something rubbed against his calf. It startled him. Looking down, he noticed it was a cat; a curious orange-colored Tabby. The feline began to purr as the human crouched down and rubbed a hand down the length of its back.
This cat was thousands of light years away from its planet of origin. How amazing it truly was, that so many things from Earth had become highly desired items by alien races in so many parts of the galaxy.
Suddenly, someone behind him spoke. “I bet you’ve seen a lot of kitties in your lifetime?” The female voice was calm and collected.
Rimsen just about came out of his boots. He was startled but sensed no reason for alarm with her presence. He rose and turned cautiously to face her.
“I have seen a few.” Now he could safely size up the alien. Without question, she was definitely Lumi. The most dominant feature of these sea-green skinned aliens was their head fibers. This was their pride. However, there was something different about hers. The fibers that flowed from the top of her head down past her shoulders had no color to them. They were clear.
“So what are you snooping around for?”
Rimsen bowed his head to show respect.
“Honestly? I was a prisoner of the Banimpire.”
“So I am going to assume you are an escapee?”
For a moment he thought she was going to report him. Yet, there was something about her mannerism that said otherwise.
“Do not be alarmed,” she assured him. “Malign is an evil person. You are safe here.”
He was not surprised this Lumi had some issues with her despot.
“Yes, I escaped.” Rimsen felt more relaxed.
“Well good for you.” She extended a hand. Rimsen accepted the gesture by reaching out with his own. Her firm grip impressed him.
“Do you have a name?”
“Rimsen, Rimsen Balten.”
“Highly unlikely,” she snapped. “That’s a strange name for an Earthling.”
“I am a Giefan,” he assured her.
“My name is Sanchor.” She scrutinized him closely. “I gather you were not able to escape the planet?”
“That is correct.”
The Lumi stood silent for a moment.
Rimsen did not want to beat around the bush with her.
“I was just looking for a place to lay my head for the night.”
“I will let you stay in my castle,” she offered with humor. “If you can handle a dirt floor for a bed?”
“I would be honored,” he answered dutifully.
“Would you also help me collect some sticks for the fire?”
“With pleasure.”
The human and Lumi walked out into the thick of the woods. Twenty minutes later they arrived back at her meek home. Their arms were heavy laden with wood.
“Let us take it all in,” she suggested. “It will snow tonight.”
Rimsen did not question her even though there had not been a cloud in the sky all day. There was no evidence she owned any sort of advanced equipment to get a climate report. He was sure her knowledge came from years of coinciding with the natural environment and the obscure signs it creates. He was also aware, that at any given place on any planet, the weather could change within minutes.
His stomach growled from being empty. “I sure could go for something to eat,” he said.
She gripped the handle and pulled the wood slide recessed within the door. “I am sorry.” She reported with sadness. “I am poor and only have enough seed left to make one more meal for my ill son and me.” Her eyes became notably enlarged and soft. “Then we shall starve and die.”
“Oh nonsense,” Rimsen replied.
“Welcome to my abode.” She gestured with the movement of a hand to reinforce the warmth of her tone.
Rimsen was somewhat shocked at what he viewed. The home looked more like a cave on the inside. The entire living space was just one large room. At one end was a wood cook stove. It was similar to the cast iron style of those from early Earth. Next to the stove were four crudely fashioned storage containers.
There floor was dirt and packed down solid so not to create dust. Two windows were in the structure. One was on the west wall, the other on the east. The inside temperature was higher than he cared for, but all in all it would suffice for the night.
Inside the entrance to the right there was a small cubicle. Animal pelts hung from rods to form its walls. She made mention of a sick son. He assumed this was where the boy bedded down.
“So where is your son?”
“He would be resting in the corner.” She pointed in the direction he had speculated. “Please do not disturb him.”
“What is wrong with him?” Rimsen expressed compassion in his asking.
“He has had the fever now for twenty-seven risings of our star.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” He replied. “How old is he?”
“He is fourteen in Lumi years,” she said. “That means he is older than you in terms of days. Our planet makes one revolution around its sun every fifteen hundred days.”
Silently, he prayed for the Lumi child as he talked to his god. It was during this short time he received a vision and the understanding of it. When he finished praying, he inquired of her once again for what she had not.
“I am hungry.”
“As I said before,” Sanchor said as a tear appeared in her eye. “I do not have the seed to meet your request.”
“Have faith in the words I speak,” Rimsen spoke with authority. “Just as you have a message to give me before I leave in the morning, so I have to demonstrate something for your eyes to behold.”
At first she hesitated.
>
“As I prayed for your son, I a revelation came to me that you had a dream last night.”
Sanchor stood to her feet and stared at him in awe. She did not seem angry or insulted.
“Go on,” he instructed her. Using a forefinger, he motioned toward the container.
With reservation, she turned from him and made her way to the stove. She picked up a couple of wood sticks and placed them into the fading flames of the stove. Then she closed the cast iron door and took out the remaining seed to prepare the meal. She then retrieved an earthen ewer. Tipping it up, she poured water into a mixing bowl. Then she dropped the seed in and blended it with a piece of wood with a blunt end.
She placed the mixture into her hands once the paste had reached a specific consistency. In no time at all, she pressed a rounded patty. She laid it upon the stove to begin cooking it. With every passing second her tears multiplied.
Meanwhile, Rimsen had closed his eyes. This was the one facet of his character that remained from when he was Telly. Silently, he prayed to his god once more. He would have enjoyed being able to speak aloud but refrained from doing it so not to offend his gracious host.
As he communicated with the deity, there came an assurance that a demonstrating power would be given to him to produce faith within this Lumi. He opened his eyes and watched her pull the large cake from off the cooking surface. She brought it to him. The meal smelled delicious.
“Thank you.”
“I hope you enjoy it,” she said in complete sincerity.
He took a bite and chewed it into a mushy substance. Then he swallowed the nutritious delight. Bite, chew and savor the flavor. The alien returned again with a cup of water to wash the meal down. Once the cup was empty, he spoke.
“That was delicious.”
Sanchor acknowledged him with a nod of her head.
“I need you to do me a favor. Since I am unsure of how long I will be staying on your planet, I will need some cakes to take with me.” He challenged her.
“I am sorry,” she answered. “That was the last of my seed.”
“I understand that it is gone.” Rimsen was polite, yet stern. “Now please go make me some more.”
Sanchor rose and went back to the stove. She could not understand why she was acting upon this request, other than the fact he had made mention about the dream she had the night before. There was no way she could understand it fully. Prophecy was more a myth in her culture. Before she lifted the lid atop the small seed vessel, she spoke to her guest once again.
“I told you it was all gone.” The tone of her voice made it sound as if she were questioning why he would toy with her in such a fashion as this.
Rimsen motioned for her to continue. There was no need for any more speech at this point. For a moment, a slither of doubt tried to breach the firmness of his resolve. He shrugged it off.
Sanchor put action to her want; to believe in something greater than she had ever known. She pushed past the habitual hesitation and placed her hand into the jar. Before she could get it all the way in she felt substance. Removing her hand, she placed it around the container and lifted it from off the back of the stove shelf. The alien peered into it and was ecstatic.
“This is incredible!”
Sanchor was so excited. There was now enough for her to fill the man’s request and to feed her and the boy for the evening meal. Once the fresh cakes finished cooking, she handed a dozen of them to her guest. Then she carried a dish of food, along with a cup of water, into the boy’s cubicle. After she was positive her son was comfortable, she reemerged from behind the makeshift wall. From another corner she grabbed some furs. She laid one down on the hard floor and then another on top of it.
“There you go, Giefan. Curl up and make yourself at home.”
“I will soon enough.” Rimsen stood to his feet. “First, I would like to repay you for your generosity.”
“There is no need for you to do so,” she countered.
“I never said it was open for discussion.”
Rimsen grabbed a gray colored fur hanging next to the door. He wrapped it around his upper torso and exited her home.
An hour later he returned. He brushed the snow from off the borrowed pelt and placed it back on the rack. As he unbuckled his boots, he yawned. Then he slipped them off. He laid down on the make shift bed and pulled the fur up to cover his chest. After rolling over on his side, he stretched his sore muscles to get comfortable. He yawned again.
Sanchor was sitting in the same spot she had been before the man went out the door. Solemnly, she attempted to make sense out of all the supernatural events that had occurred over the past twenty-four hours.
“You swing an ax nicely,” she complimented. “Judging from the sound it made, I would have to say you cut a big part of heating sticks?”
“Do not worry yourself with it.”
“What would compel you to do such an act of sacrifice?”
“You have already seen half of your dream today as it has unfolded before your very eyes. The one and only god, the one whom I serve, has shown you how it will end tomorrow.” Rimsen conveyed this to her with a sense of peace. “So ease your mind and go to bed.”
Rimsen’s body was sore and tired. Aches and pains infiltrated every joint in his body. Multiple muscles burned as if with fire. Some were ones he had not used in a long time. Chasing down the maintenance worker was quite the workout. It could not all be contributed to the long journey from the research facility either. The cold, damp weather and chopping of wood had affected his limbs as well. There was also another factor involved with how quickly he drifted off to sleep. One he was not aware of. Without question, the recovery process from having the inhibitor chip removed from his brain had tapped into his energy reserves early on. He dreamed.
A vast array of rainbow-colored pieces twisted and turned like a carousel. Suddenly, he was on a planet. Not a planet, a moon. Sitting high up on a ridge, he peered through a range finder. He had been on first watch for almost an hour now. It had been an uneventful evening up to this point.
Suddenly, there was a stirring in the woods behind him. He turned around in hopes of catching a glimpse of the culprit. No matter how large or small the animal could be, the night vision of his range finder would pick it up quickly. As he brought the instrument up to his eyes, an arm wrapped about both of his own from behind. The viewing tool falls to the ground. The assailant clasped another hand around his mouth. His captor was much too strong for him to break free, but he was not about to give up trying. He attempted to scream. The sound drowned within the alien’s huge palm. Then there was a female voice. She told someone to hurry up and inject the boy. Without warning, everything began to blur and spin.
The polychromatic whirlpool of geometrical shapes comes on like a raging storm this time around. If one could imagine being sucked into a black hole, this might be it. For what seemed like a life time, it spun. Every so often, a memory would surface upon the sea of sporadic change. These were images of him, even though there were no similarities within the physical characteristics. One scene depicted him in a state-sponsored home. Along came another one, and then another. Now he saw himself as a man, alienating himself from other adults in the corner of a day room. There were many scenes. More scenes than he could keep count of.
As time progressed, the swirl of colors began to slow down. Shortly afterwards, they stopped completely. All of the pieces fell to the bottom half of the cylinder. The lower half turned black, leaving the top part looking as white as snow. Pulling the gadget away from his eyes, he viewed it for what it really was. In his grasp was an echo blade, not a kaleidoscope. The blade pointed straight out in front of him toward an elaborately dressed alien; Banimpire Malign, to be exact.
The following morning, as the sun radiated its first streams of light through the trees surrounding the shack, Rimsen buckled his boots in preparation to leave. Once they were secure, he walked up to the cubicle and peeked through the furs that secluded th
e boy from the rest of the house.
“Just as I thought,” he whispered to himself.
Then the front door opened. Sanchor walked in.
“It should not be too cold today. Be the weather as it may, I will let you take the fur you used last night.”
“Why thank you,” he said graciously.
She peered in to check on her son. The expression on her face was one of disappointment. Fever still had him in its grasp. Sanchor turned to face the human and shared her dream.
“In my dream the night before last, I saw you in my yard just like you were yesterday. Once I awakened, I believed it was a delusion, possibly from lack of nourishment.” She cleared her throat. “Then I saw you yesterday in the exact spot from the dream. Then I knew. I knew I needed to share the rest of the dream with you. Even though I do not understand why I was chose for this to happen to, I knew.”
“Go on,” he said.
“I saw you assassinate someone.”
“What?” Rimsen said. Now he recalled the dream he had before waking. “Are you sure it was me?”
“Yes. You were wearing that exact helmet.
“Who did I assassinate?”
“The Banimpire. Your god brought you here to slay her.” She searched his face for response. “You know I speak honestly? Right?”
“Ye…yes I do.”
“Then you must not delay.” Now it was her turn to stand firm. She handed him the dozen cakes. Then she took down the fur that hung by the door and placed it upon his shoulders.
“You must go now.” She opened the door and showed him out. “Thank you for the wood cutting.”
“It was not a problem.” Rimsen smiled.
She smiled back and then placed both her hands on his shoulders. With an air of respect, she stared deep into his eyes and asked him for a favor. “Next time you talk to your god, will you give him my thanks for allowing me to see a small part of what I am sure is the most powerful being in the universe?”
“You can tell him.”
Matakeo: Echoes of the Future Page 16
