Embers: The Galaxy On Fire Series, Book 1

by Craig Robertson

  Then an annoying thought buzzed its way into my head. These were my times, not those old ones. They were approximately two billion years removed. I was going to have to adopt this epoch as mine or I was going to go nuts. I wasn’t any good to Mirraya if I stuck my head in the sand and refused to accept when I was. Okay. I was Jon Ryan, future man … android … mandroid. Crap. It was going to be a long night. I thought long and hard about switching on my sleep mode so I’d stop freaking myself out. But, that little girl was my number one priority, not my flimsy ego. I hunkered closer to the fire and closed my eyes.

  My little companion didn’t wake up until several hours after sunrise. The girl slept over fourteen hours. She’d been totally exhausted. I didn’t bother her because both our schedules for the day were amazingly open. Where were we going to rush off to? I did slip away and use my probes to catch several fish and start roasting them over the fire while she was snoozing. I should say I felt very guilty fishing with my command prerogatives. As an old-time fisherman, I knew I was cheating. But a rod and reel were not actual options. Plus, as fishing was a different thing than catching, I couldn’t afford to fool around. Mirraya needed a lot of food to get back to normal.

  The smile on her face when she woke, smelling the marvelous meal cooking, was all the reward I needed for my efforts. She excused herself to hit the bushes, then returned and got serious about breakfast. She downed five fish all by herself. And those were two-kilo fish we're talking about here. I made a show of eating a couple also to keep up appearances. Afterward, she had a sponge bath, minus the sponge. I’d warmed up some stream water in a rocky crevice. While she did that, I told her I needed to hit the bushes myself. It was an excuse so my little lady could clean up in private. I'd not forgotten how jealous teenage girls were about their privacy.

  By the time I returned, she was cleaned up and had a contented look on her face. That was nice to see, given all she’d been through. I broke up the lean-to and covered the fire along with the fish bones. I didn’t want to leave any clues for someone who might chance to pass this spot. We headed in the same direction we had been the day before. Mirraya walked for a few hours, but then I noticed she began to limp. I picked her up and we pushed on. That was nice. We were able to talk more naturally, her resting on my hip with one arm holding her loosely.

  “So, were all your family back there in the prison?” I asked. I needed to know if there were relatives to try and return her to, as much as I didn’t want to relinquish her.

  “Triumph of Might.”

  “Huh?”

  “Triumph of Might. That was the name of the ship we were on.”

  “Ah. Scary sort of name, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so. Yes, my family was there. After the Adamant came to our city, they marched everyone they didn’t kill through the doorway to their ship. The adults were separated from the children as soon as we arrived. I never saw them again.”

  She had to stop for a second.

  “How long were you there, in prison?”

  “Almost a month.”

  “Ah. So…” I started to say that maybe her parents were still okay. Then I remembered I’d blown the entire vessel up. Yeah, they were dead now, for sure. “So, did they tell you why they took you all? Were they going to have you work for them?”

  She shook her head. “No. They showed up, killed many, and took the rest but never said a word about why.” I felt her shudder. “People asked them. My mother screamed at them. She asked where they were taking us and why.” She stopped. “But they never said a word. They shot anyone who resisted and pushed the rest though the passageway. Pretty soon, nobody asked them why anymore.”

  Sonsabitches.

  “What happened to Siev? Did they hurt him too?”

  “No. Siev just stopped living. I think he was too hungry. But maybe he was just too sad. He died two days before you came.”

  Then, another one of her weirdisms came out of her mouth. “They stopped us from changing. I don’t know how, but we couldn’t change to escape. You know?”

  I totally didn’t know, but why upset her. “Yeah. That must have been scary.”

  She nodded that it was. “There were no adults to ask why they wouldn't let us change. It didn’t seem possible, so yeah, it was scary.”

  Tell me about it. I’d always found change difficult. One needed only ask my first wife to confirm that notion. She said she could never decide which bestial personality trait she hated the most, but stubbornness, Gloria screamed quite often directly into my face, was high on the list.

  “What planet did you live on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What did you call your home, the place your city was on?”

  “Oh. Locinar.”

  “And what do your people call themselves? Locinarians?”

  “Why would we do that. The dirt was named Locinar. We are the Deft. We have always been called the Deft.”

  Deft. Odd, but hey, to each their own. Kind of pretentious in my opinion, but whatever.

  “Do you think there are any Deft still on Locinar?”

  “I don’t know.” She bit at her lower lip. “I doubt it. The Adamant were serious about removing us, I think.”

  “And you don’t know why? Did they want to live on Locinar?”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Curious. I mean, why force a people off their planet just to lock them up and let them die? Why not just kill them, dig a big ditch …”

  I decided not to conclude that line of reasoning. The huge size of Mirraya’s eyes as I spoke sort of confirmed it was a good idea. I was overloading her a tad with gory details.

  “Are you hungry yet?” I asked with a grim. “I don’t think it’s possible, give how much breakfast you downed, but are you?”

  She smiled and looked toward the ground. “They didn’t feed us much back there.”

  I shook her gently. “Well then I guess I’ll just have to make up for it.”

  I pulled some smoked fillets from my pocket and she snatched them without hesitation. My girl had a healthy appetite. There was nothing to carry water in, so I made it a point to listen for running water as we progressed. After she had polished off more food than I would have thought possible, I veered off toward a creek I could hear. It was in a ravine we’d been skirting for the last few hours.

  In retrospect, I don’t know who was more surprised, me or the guy I nearly collided with as I broke through the shrubs by the stream. I figured maybe it was a draw. I know I’d have peed my pants if such a thing were possible. He wore that same kind of expression. Of that I was certain. I’d been around enough Deavoriath to be able to read them pretty well.

  EIGHT

  “I’m a nice guy,” blurted from my mouth. Not only that, I blurted it in Xenox, the language of the Deavoriath. I’d learned to speak it as well as anyone with a human mouth could. Man, I really wasn’t channeling Arnold Schwarzenegger with that line, was I? Totally lame. Completely.

  The man had been crouching at the water. He stared at me a second, then rose, a wry smile forming on his face. “You are either very brave or very stupid. To speak a language other than Standard is forbidden. I trust you know that, traveler.”

  “I guess I’m kind of both. Headstrong, too.” I shrugged. “I don’t take commands from dogs. I give them.”

  His long brow furrowed. “My, first a human speaking Xenox, then an open display of contempt for the Adamant. My, my.” He dried his three hands on his pants then extended one toward me. “I believe it is a customary greeting among your species to shake hands, is it not?”

  I shook his hand. “Yes, it is.” Overly anxious, I asked, “Are there any humans around here?”

  “No, traveler, there most certainly are not. You’re the first one I ever met.” He cocked his head. “I assumed they were all gone. I stand corrected.” Then he looked at Mirraya with piqued interest. “Are you a Deft, child?”

  She nodded uncertainly.

  “M
y, two miracles in one day. I may need a nap. To meet a human and a Deft. What are the chances?”

  Mirraya looked to me for direction.

  “What’s odd about meeting a Deft? There were a lot of them back on … well, where we recently were.” I had no idea if the Deavoriath were in league with the Adamant. Best not to confess to blowing up Triumph of Might just yet.

  He shook his head in wonder. “Many Deft? Again, I’d assumed they were more legend than reality. But where are my manners? This is hardly the place for such momentous introductions. Let me guide you to my home.” He pointed in a westerly direction. “It’s a short walk over there.”

  “Ah, not so fast,” I responded. “I’d like to know a bit better where you stand. Are there any Adamant here? More to the point, are they allies of yours?”

  He looked stunned, then grinned. “Allies with the Adamant? I don’t think they allow allies. In any case, no. None are here, and I am certainly not a fan of theirs.”

  “How can I know we can trust you? By the way, I’m Jon Ryan. What’s your name?”

  I think pounding him with a baseball bat while pit bulls ripped at his calves would have had less impact than me saying my name. Seriously, he staggered back a couple steps, damn near fell into the water. I’d seen many moods in my friends, the Deavoriath, over the centuries, but I’ve never seen stunned, speechless surprise. Score another point for Team Ryan.

  “You okay?” I had to ask.

  “Wait. I’m being silly. You may be a man named Jon Ryan, but for a second there I fancied you were the original one who had returned from beyond the grave.” He had an expression of bemused relief.

  I held up my left hand and flashed my probe fibers.

  “No,” he said very much like a person addressing a ghost, “that’s not remotely possible.”

  I traced a J in the dirt with my finger laser. Then I gave him a patented Jon Ryan wink.

  “B … but he lived…you lived over two bill—”

  “I do look pretty good for my age, don’t I?”

  “I feel like a character in one of those poorly plotted novels, one of the hero’s journey tales. I’m the character who meets Yoda or Gandalf.”

  “And you’re welcome,” I said with a stupid grin. “But wait, you guys don’t have Yoda or Gandalf, or hero’s journeys for that matter. I tried to make it through some of your literature in the past. It read like poorly translated instruction manuals.”

  Staring at the ground, he said, “It did, but then, well, then you came along. You had a tremendous impact on our culture, General Ryan.”

  “Aw don’t start with the honorific, son. You’ll annoy the hell out of me, and then I’d probably have to shoot you. I’m Jon.” I held my hand back up to him. “And you are?”

  “Cragforel,” he numbly shook my hand. “I am Cragforel, son of Gronalitpor.”

  “Don’t recall hearing either of those names before.”

  He smirked. “I guess they’re recent additions.”

  “So, now that you know who I am, would you like to change either of your answers about the Adamant?”

  “No, Jon. They are a blight on existence. I loathe them,” his eyes twinkled, “as much as Kymee would have.

  Wow. I’d seen Kymee only the day before yesterday. He was there when Toño switched me off. He was Deavoriath, but he was one of the best friends I ever had. Now long dead Kymee…

  “Wait, is Kymee still alive?” I practically shouted.

  “No, I’m sorry to inform you, Jon. He died long ago. When you knew him, he was what, a million years old?”

  “Give or take.”

  “Well, we live a long time, but we found we last only a couple million years, tops. Then we push up daisy like anyone else.”

  “Wait. You guys didn’t say pushing up daisies. We did.”

  He shrugged all three shoulders. “Like I said, yours was a powerful influence.”

  “Like Bill’s and Ted’s on their future.”

  “Yes,” he mused in agreement, “much the same as Bill and Ted.” He placed one palm on his chest and the other two arms in the air. “Party on, dude.”

  I think I was getting a headache. It was all way too much. I was to icon of the greatest scientific, military, and technologic race to have ever lived. Not only that, I had reduced them to quoting Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. I should have been spanked for one and slapped in the face for the other.

  “Come, friends,” Cragforel said, “let us retire to my home.” He ushered us away with a guiding arm.

  “What was all that about?” asked Mirraya surreptitiously as we walked through the forest. “Are you important or something?”

  “Nah. Popular without being noteworthy. Nothing more. Anyway, he probably has me confused with somebody else.”

  “He sure seemed impressed. At first, he couldn’t believe I was Deft. But he forgot about that quickly, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, what’s the big deal about you being Deft? I mean, you’re nice and all, but it’s not like you poop gold.”

  “Uncle Jon, I thought you knew about us. You were in the same prison. At first I even thought you were some adult who’d changed.”

  “And what’s with this change stuff?”

  Cragforel overheard us and stopped to let us catch up with him. “So, you really don’t know about the legendary Deft, do you, Jon?”

  “Know what?”

  “They’re shapeshifters,” Cragforel said with a smile. “The only ones there are. Your friend here can change to appear as anything of equal mass. They’re a truly magic race.”

  Shapeshifter? My little Mirraya was a shapeshifter? And she seemed so … normal. What a two-day stretch I was having. Asleep for two billion years and still I felt the need to lay down.

  I was literally dumbstruck, so Cragforel gently impelled me to begin walking toward his house again. We arrived a while later, not sure how long, because I kept tripping on the shape-change thing. What, could she look like a little corner mailbox? A great big kazoo? A regular-size human? How could that be possible? Did it hurt?

  “Jon,” Cragforel snapped his fingers in front of my face, “come on, I asked if you’d like refreshments? Being a shapeshifter is not that big of a deal. Well, I suppose it is, but it isn’t like she’s a nerd or something.”

  I recoiled slightly as I looked at him. I started to ask when they started using the word nerd, but realized the answer was the one asking the question, so I let it drop. My head was spinning.

  “Ah, you got any nufe?” I asked.

  “Why yes, a particularly good batch, in fact. May the girl have some too?”

  “Sure, I gave it to my kids.” I turned to Mirraya. “It’s a drink that tastes like different things to different people, but it’s always marvelous. You know, for a shapeshifter, this may be just the drink.”

  I scruffed her hair, and she smiled bashfully. So cute.

  Mirri took a tentative sip, closed her eyes and swirled it in her mouth. Then she took a big gulp, swallowing it so fast it might have missed her tastebuds.

  “What?” I said. “What'd you taste and why'd you power it down like that?”

  She smiled bigger than I'd seen her do to that point. “I tasted over-ripe quasi fruit, hot paplo fresh from the oven, and hot meat with blood still flowing in it. It was so good I had to finish it before it changed. Double yum.”

  Once we had all finished our nufe, and Mirraya a large portion of some foods I didn’t recognize, Cragforel sat and got a serious look on his face. “Jon, to say a lot has changed in two billion years isn’t worth saying because it’s so damn obvious. That said, let me paint you a broad overview. Your people successfully fled their world and colonized many planets. They spread, some said, like locusts. Eventually, a large section of the galaxy was under their control.”

  “And then?” I asked. “I heard an and then in there, don’t I?”

  “Yes. And then they did what all civilizations do. They faded. Their light went out. Ca
ll it what you will, but their empire slowly shrank, as did their numbers. By a billion years ago, humans were a rare find. Oh, there might be pockets of them somewhere, but we haven’t heard of them.”

  “And the war? What happened to the Berrillians?”

  “Hmm. That I don’t know. Can you describe the species?”

  “Huge tigers that walked upright and were meaner then the devil on one of his bad days.”

  Cragforel squinted in thought. “Let me ask The One That Is All.” Almost immediately, he spoke. “I’m told by my collective that the Berrillians were wiped out during that conflict. They have been extinct since shortly after that war.”

  “Wow, talk about losing. Well, I can’t say I’m sorry. They were vicious, ruthless, and thoroughly unredeemable. Good riddance, says I.”

  “However bad they might have been, they were nothing compared to the Adamant. Now there’s a vicious, ruthless, and thoroughly unredeemable piece of work.”

  “Have they been here, to Oowaoa?”

  “Just once, which brings me to a sensitive yet critical point. You must leave, and you may never return.”

  “You know, your species told me that before. You guys are kind of like a broken record.”

  He pointed a finger to the ceiling. “But this time there’s a difference. Back then, we wished to be cut off from the galaxy. Now, it’s a matter of our survival.”

  “We can’t risk the Adamant coming again. Last time all they saw was a planet covered in boiling lava. But next time, they might not be so easily fooled. If they knew we were here, we’d all be killed.”

  “But why. If they don’t know you exist, how can they wish genocide for you?”

  “Oh, it’s not us. They want to wipe out all indigenous life-forms.” He pointed to Mirraya. “As with the Deft. They were by all accounts a harmless, inoffensive race. Yet they were marched off their world to die.”

  “Why? What’s the Adamant’s plan? It seems silly to me.”

  “They remove the locals and replace them with more docile, more time-proven species. Some serve in production, others as food.”