“Our forefathers came here long ago, after first contact. However, this is our village. You don’t have the right to ask questions,” the man said, crossing his arms in defiance.
“My colleague’s rocket launcher says otherwise,” Rosethorn said, pointing his thumb toward one of his men.
The old man cast his eyes to where Rosethorn pointed, and his confidence visibly wavered. “I see your point. I assume you come from Earth as we originally did. I promise you, we have nothing of value that’s worth ransacking our village for. We’re trying to make a life here, as difficult as it may be.”
“You have my first officer. Your men captured her yesterday,” Rosethorn said.
The man frowned. “Ah. Her.”
“Yes, her.” Rosethorn felt himself losing his patience with the man.
The man looked back over his shoulder and then back to Rosethorn. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come inside the council building and talk with me? I’m afraid we need your woman, but perhaps we could arrange for some compensation.”
The way the man said need your woman rubbed Rosethorn the wrong way. Not that he could think of a right way for it to be said. They probably wanted her for breeding. It didn’t seem like their population was big enough to maintain a diverse gene pool. From all Rosethorn had read, which admittedly had only been a couple Aethernet articles, it took thousands to be able to guarantee a healthy future for a colony. He wouldn’t leave Montas here to that fate, but being agreeable and garnering information as to her location would be helpful. “Okay, I’ll talk.” He turned back to his men. “Renegades, keep watch. If there’s any funny business, handle it. Permanently.”
“Aye, sir,” Palmer said.
The old man beckoned Rosethorn to follow, then made his way back into the bigger building. Palmer motioned for the other mercs to assume guard positions. A couple of men moved ahead of Rosethorn to flank the building’s door, and Rosethorn proceeded inside.
The building was divided into two main rooms. The room they entered was set up as some sort of public gathering place, connected to an office with a closed door in the back. The man proceeded to the door and led Rosethorn through it. In the office was a very dated computer terminal atop a wooden desk that appeared to be built from the same trees as the buildings around them. Two chairs of similar construction were in front of the desk, with another behind. The man moved around the desk and bade Rosethorn to sit.
“I’ll stand, thank you,” Rosethorn said.
The man nodded. “I suppose I owe you an explanation. I am Meynard Thurmond, chief councilman of this humble settlement.” He moved as if to offer his hand, but saw that Rosethorn had no intention of taking it and instead maneuvered to seat himself. “Our forefathers came here to escape the hazards of life on Earth. After first contact, Earth became such a small place compared to the rest of the galaxy. Our forefathers wanted some place to be alone, to have a simpler life like they had in The United States of America back in the old days. It seemed like a good plan.”
“I just want you to release our crewman so I can be on my way. No offense, but I don’t care about your world, or why you’re here,” Rosethorn said.
Meynard inclined his head. “I’m getting to that.”
Rosethorn motioned for him to continue.
“What they didn’t expect was that this world would have predators. It still does. You must be careful in the jungles, Captain. But we have what we call the Great Protector. The creature is huge, reptilian, god-like. It’s truly amazing, but it does require sacrifice. In the early days, it would ravage our village. But since those early times—”
Rosethorn turned for the door. “I don’t need to listen to this any longer. If I have to bust down every door of every one of your cabins to get Montas back, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Wait,” Meynard said. His chair squeaked against the flooring as he stood. “Please. The creature requires a sacrifice, as I said. Every cycle, we give the Great Protector a young girl, a virgin, hoping that will satiate it. If we don’t give it one soon, it will destroy all of us.”
Rosethorn laughed.
“This is no laughing matter!”
“It is if you think Montas is a virgin, or that we’re going to go along with your sick religious ideas for whatever godforsaken creatures are out there. You sound like savages.”
Meynard shook his head. “It’s not like that. Our population is too small for us to give up any more of the women in the village. My computer model shows our civilization is unsustainable. When you arrived it was like a message from God. It had to be so, don’t you know?”
These people were absolutely crazy, of that Rosethorn was certain. They’d been feeding some savage beast one of their own to stave off its appetite? Likely that’s what kept it returning to the village. Who would turn down a free lunch? The thought of so many young women being murdered over the years disgusted him. These people deserved to have their village destroyed. He left the office, heading back into the larger room. In the time they had spoken, several of the villagers had gathered inside. Women. Children. A lot of them. How the hell had they gotten past the guards Palmer posted?
“Your men allowed us through,” one of the women said. “My name is Marianne. I was on my way to inform the council the sacrifice is ready to be given to the Great Protector.”
Meynard followed Rosethorn out of the office and carefully stepped around Rosethorn to join his people. He placed a hand on a young boy’s shoulder. “Son,” he said solemnly.
Rosethorn huffed. “This whole concept is disgusting. I’m not sure how you live with yourselves.” Even as he said the words, he caught sight of Marianne’s quivering lips. Her fear was intense and contagious. These were helpless people. But it wasn’t his job to save helpless people. It was his job to protect his crew, and earn a profit. “Look, I can’t help you. I’m on a mission to find some remnants of an old ship. That’s all. You’re not my responsibility.”
The young boy looked up at his father. “Do you think he means the ruins?”
“It could be,” Meynard said. He eyed Rosethorn. “You are a mercenary. Perhaps we can trade information for your assistance.”
Rosethorn shook his head. “Ain’t no way I’m selling one of my own. That’s not how we do things.”
“Please. Talk to your men. Consider it.” Meynard squeezed his son’s shoulder. However, it was his eyes that gripped Rosethorn with what they communicated: think of the children.
Rosethorn grumbled to himself. Even though he had a job to do, and even though he’d been hardened by years of intense combat, the damn thought of children getting ripped to shreds by some beast got to him. He hated having morals. It definitely didn’t help with the actual mercenary aspects of his job. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll consider it.” Before the man could open his mouth again, Rosethorn held up a hand to halt him. “That’s not all. Let me see Montas—I want to talk to her and make sure she’s unharmed. Maybe I’ll think of something. No promises.”
Meynard nodded, his face grim though he seemed less tense. “That can be arranged.”
* * *
The door to the cabin creaked open, and Grace’s jaw dropped when she saw the group who came through it. Marianne had returned, but with her was an older male settler she didn’t recognize, along with Captain Rosethorn and Navigator Jebediah Tuoken.
“Are you okay?” Rosethorn asked as he pushed past the two women handlers to get closer to her.
It was all Grace could do not to reach out and hug him right there. Over the past day, she’d heard a lot more about her intended fate from her handlers. The colony may not have been as backward as she pictured, but she couldn’t help but get the sense that she was the subject of something crazy.
Her thoughts proved correct when her handlers told her about what it meant to be the object of the Great Protector. They told her that it wasn’t a man or god, but a giant creature that lurked in the forest. They described it as a giant, scaly beast
that walked on two legs, with short arms; it was almost like a Tyrannosaurus Rex but with eyes more akin to a fly.
They spoke reverently of the beast, as if it were some immortal being. Having a ritual for a giant lizard didn’t bother her. The disturbing thing was that the settlers intended to feed her to it. When Grace heard that, she had run for the door, only to be stopped by the two women, who were much stronger than they appeared. Grace realized they had to be, living a life in a harsh colony environment without modern amenities. They had tackled her, bruising her arms and legs in the process.
Through the rest of the night, the handlers stood guard over Grace. They took shifts, just like a well-oiled merc outfit. When Laura and Stephanie returned in the morning, they appeared fresh and energized. Meanwhile, Grace had been worn down from her lack of sleep. Her hopes of getting out of the situation alive had evaporated. After hours of panic through the morning, she’d resigned herself to death. Now, a bright spot of hope returned for the first time since her capture.
“Hi,” Grace said to Rosethorn. “I mean, yes. I’m as fine as I can be.” She glanced at her captors. “I won’t be for long though.”
“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about,” Rosethorn said. He had that twinkle in his eye that she had seen when he schemed or planned for the ship’s future. He was an ambitious man, and while this merc company was still getting off the ground in a lot of ways, she had faith in where he led. Rosethorn turned to the man next to him. “Mind if I speak with her alone for a moment?”
The man frowned. “If you leave—”
“I won’t. I promised you we would cooperate.”
The man nodded, and made a motion to the others with them. They all exited the cabin, including Laura and Stephanie. Grace waited to speak until the door closed behind them. “I thought you’d never show up,” she said.
“Took a while to put together a force big enough to scare the settlers into listening. The good news is it worked. The bad news is, you’re going to have to stay here a little longer,” Rosethorn said.
Grace paled. “What?”
Navigator Tuoken guarded the door, hands clasped in front of him, remaining quiet while his superiors spoke. Rosethorn paced the room. He was about to tell her something she didn’t want to hear. He always got like this when he was about to upset her. That didn’t happen with the rest of the crew. Rosethorn’s leadership typically was solid. When he spoke, he got to the point, whether stating an ugly truth or not. Grace could only speculate why he did this with her, but she’d have to do that at a later time. One where she weren’t in mortal danger from being eaten by some nasty creature in the wilderness.
“You see,” Rosethorn said, “I made a deal with the colonists to let them have you.”
“What?” Grace balled her fist. He was going to leave her here? That double crossing…
Rosethorn held up his hands. “Hold on. It’s just temporary. Let me explain.”
“It’d better be a damned good explanation.”
“It is.” Rosethorn let out a deep breath. “The settlers here know where the old Kahraman ship is that we came to investigate. They call it the ruins and promised to show us the location, but we have to allow them to bring you to their sacrificial altar.”
“That’s not a good reason at all,” Grace said flatly.
“Would you listen for a moment?” Rosethorn’s voice became testy. His eyes locked on hers, and they told her a lot more than what his words had so far. He was scared, and more, he loved her.
Truth be told, Grace had suspected that for a while. On more than one occasion, they had come all too close to pushing their relationship beyond what was healthy for a captain and the first officer of a merc outfit. She’d never had the courage to make the first move, and annoyingly, neither had he. And now she was probably going to die. Great. “I’m listening,” she said.
Rosethorn glanced over his shoulder toward the door and then back to her. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I have no intention of leaving you here to die. We’re going to have the colonists lead us to the source, and then come back around with our full squad to blow that creature off this planet. As much as they call this thing the Great Protector, it’s been murdering their people ever since they got here. I know it’s not in the contract, but these colonists have kids. I can’t let that thing ravage them any more than I can let it kill you.”
He had compassion for the villagers. That actually tugged at Grace’s heartstrings more than the way he looked at her. Until he mentioned the children, Grace had been ready to let these loonies become giant lizard dinner. But he was right. They were civilians, and they deserved a right to live. Even though they wouldn’t get contract money for it, saving these innocents could be used for something positive, maybe public relations. Grace would figure out the marketing aspects if she survived. “I still don’t like the idea of being used like this.”
“But you’ll do it? The villagers won’t give us the ship location without your help.”
Grace grimaced, but finally nodded. “Yeah. I’ll do it. You owe me triple hazard pay though.”
“Done.”
* * *
Rosethorn trudged through the deep forest with half his drop team and a guide from the village. Sweat dripped down his face and became trapped under his helmet at his neck. His hair had already matted and become drenched. With that monster out there lurking around, he wasn’t about to risk removing the armor. Besides, several bugs fluttered around the dense forest environment, and they looked like biters.
He had left the other half of his unit back in the village. That way, if the settlers tried to pull something with Montas, they would be able to react quickly. From what Rosethorn understood, there would be plenty of time for him to get back and then go to their sacrificial altar, constructed atop a nearby mesa. The rest of his men marched with him, keeping their guns at the ready in case the Great Protector or something worse decided it wanted a lunchtime snack.
Jeb walked ahead with the guide, talking about the local planet, and specifically its geography. The conversation had been going on for a while, and Rosethorn had tuned it out until Jeb looked back at him. He must have missed his navigator asking a question.
“Sorry, didn’t hear you,” Rosethorn said, picking up his pace to get closer to them.
“I was saying that from the sound of this Great Protector, it could very well be a Canavar. I read about them in a galactic history class in preparation for my Cartography Guild license exam. Crazy stuff. Giant beasts that destroyed whole cities. From what I saw though, these things would have left a much bigger footprint. I don’t know—maybe the crashed ship we’re looking for was a transport of some kind meant to take the Canavar between worlds. This creature may well be their progeny.”
Canavar. Rosethorn had heard of them before, but given the amount of time that had passed, he couldn’t believe Jeb’s theory. “That’s impossible. This ship came to the system how long? Twenty thousand years ago? We’ll be lucky if the remains have much to offer at all.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. The Kahraman had far more advanced technology than we do. The odds are good that their wreckage is still intact. The aliens used metallic compounds that were far more durable than what we have. The guild has found good, usable data on sites like this before.”
They continued ahead, making their way through to a hillside area with some rock formations. The trees cleared in front of them. “If that’s the case, why don’t we use the same metals in our ships?”
“Haven’t figured out how to produce it cheaply, yet,” Jeb said, his gaze fixed forward. He turned to the guide. “We’re almost there, aren’t we?”
The guide pointed ahead. There was a small crack in the hillside, just big enough for a person to squeeze through.
“Ah,” Jeb said. He approached the crack, placing his hand on the dirt and rubbed some of it away. Doing so revealed a manmade—or rather alien made—metallic compound. They’d found it.
This hill was really an ancient starship. Jeb looked down at his scanner. “No lifeforms inside. Safe for now.”
A high-pitched shriek came from the forest behind them.
Rosethorn turned, hearing the echo. Birds quickly took flight from nearby trees, flying away from the sound. “Let’s hurry up. I’m not sure how much more time Montas has.” He took the lead, squeezing himself through the crack and into the ship. The lights on his helmet turned on automatically, illuminating a small space in front of him, allowing him to see the ship’s interior. Dust covered everything. It made him thankful for his suit’s internal filtration system. The crack opened into a larger hallway with strange alien markings.
Jeb and the guide squeezed into the ship while the rest of the guards kept watch outside. Jeb didn’t seem to be in awe of his surroundings, the ancient construction, or the markings on the walls. Instead, he stayed focused on his scanner. “We’re looking for a computer core, a backup, something like the black boxes we use for our dropships to figure out what happened after a wreck.”
“Think it’s still here after all these years?” Rosethorn asked, continuing ahead. An open door led into a much larger room. Dirt was caked everywhere on the walls and platforms. The passages had been dug out by the settlers to some extent, but there was still a lot of alien ship left unexplored.
“Don’t know. That’s the gamble. If it is, our payout from the Cartography Guild is going to be huge,” Jeb said. He waved his scanner around. “According my readings, there should be a bulkhead to your right. I’ve got the ship’s dimensions now, and I can confirm it isn’t a Canavar the villagers are dealing with. The layout is in line with their standard troop transports. They would have needed a much larger cargo compartment to carry one of those beasts.”
“I told you it wasn’t one of those things,” Rosethorn said. “They aren’t the type to take a bite of some animal or young girl and leave a place alone. The Canavar rampaged through whole cities and caused massive destruction. There wouldn’t be a village left if that’s what we were dealing with.” He produced a knife from his belt and scraped the wall where Jeb had pointed. Hard dirt flaked off where he ran his blade. He could feel the wall behind it, something his knife couldn’t penetrate. Over the years of working as a merc, he’d learned patience in situations like these. A younger man might have gotten frustrated with having to wiggle a knife back and forth to loosen ancient dirt, but to Rosethorn, it felt good to do something so simple. He saw the results of his labor as he unveiled strips of the wall. Taking joy in little victories kept him sane after doing dirty work for years.
A Fistful of Credits: Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 5) Page 18
