Magestic 3

by Geoff Wolak

‘How many craft are unaccounted for?’ I asked.

  ‘Twenty two craft and … eighteen thousand citizens.’

  ‘Citizens as well?’

  ‘Yes, The Resistance tried to send them anywhere other than where they wanted to go.’

  ‘What about that world Slumber showed us, where he said they had been attacked by aliens?’

  ‘We’ve been back there and stepped through time line. The Zim attacked for some reason best known to either themselves or Clayton, and years later the inhabitants of that area rebuilt without any knowledge of what happened.’

  ‘Who’s living there? It was America, but with stone bridges typical of Britain.’

  ‘The French colonised America, as they had on many worlds. Here, the French occupied a territory from New Orleans up the river to Quebec. Only on that world they beat the British to the rest of the continent, including Canada. We peeked at 1850, and it’s all French, stone bridges, but there are several factions fighting each other, and Europe is a shit tip of over-populated slums, Britain on its arse.’

  I greeted Susan and the boys, the lads tall enough to kick a football around with their old man, and we enjoyed a lengthy meal with Jimmy, many bottles of wine downed as we sat watching the TV news from many worlds.

  In the morning, the news we awaited was not good when it finally arrived. A world had been isolated from one of the frequencies that the resistance had used - to send the Zim somewhere at random. It was 1750, and the Zim citizens had settled themselves around northern California and Washington State, the lock-on we had from a period twenty years after they had arrived on that world.

  ‘What’ll you do?’ I asked Jimmy at breakfast.

  ‘I’m tempted to leave them there.’

  ‘It’s a normal human world?’ I queried.

  ‘It appears to be, Spanish in Mexico and South America.’

  ‘Americans here won’t be happy,’ I cautioned.

  ‘No,’ Jimmy slowly let out. ‘So, I’ll go talk to them – the Zim, not the Americans. The portal at Trophy Aerospace is the closest, and I was thinking about … using horses.’

  ‘No roads over there,’ I noted.

  Five days later, and I asked Jimmy if I could come along. He shrugged and said yes, so I asked Susan if she wanted to go, figuring that she wouldn’t. She surprised me by saying she would like to go along. We packed bags, adopted suitable clothing, but had to find horses that would not be spooked by the portal. We made use of an enlarged portal, and painted parts of it green, large rubber plants strategically placed, green matting used. Still, if a horse bolted it could touch the sides and fry itself.

  Professional cowboys rode the horses through for us, making a camp, two dozen Marines joining them. We stepped through the next day, the horses having gotten used to their new surroundings; trees, trees and more trees. Ten guards would accompany us, each accomplished horsemen, which I most definitely wasn’t. I had ridden many times, and the cowboys had found me a horse that could not possibly get upset - no matter how clumsy I was.

  With pack horses tied-off and trailing behind, a long line of horses moved off in single file, heading south through the trees. The Marines made a camp, and settled in to some nice scenery, of trees, tress, and more trees.

  ‘Smell that?’ Jimmy asked from ahead of me, Susan behind me.

  ‘What? Pine cones?’

  ‘Fresh air, no particles of pollution for … oh, another hundred years or so. Virgin forest, just us and nature.’

  ‘And big grizzly bears and … wolves.’

  ‘Which are more afraid of us than we are of them!’

  We rode for three hours, rested and had a bite to eat in a pleasant clearing, then pressed on, finding a suitable clearing near a river. The camp fires were soon going, and as I stood there looking at the camp I could image any one of the cowboy movies I had seen as kid.

  Settling down for supper, the gentle roar of the river ever present, a guard whispered, ‘We’ve got company.’

  ‘Bears?’ I asked, touching the pistol inside my jacket.

  ‘No, Indians!’ the man whispered with a smile.

  ‘They sneaking up?’ I asked as I stood.

  ‘Nope, they’re walking brazenly towards us, boss, making as much noise as a herd of elephants.’

  A woop-woop signalled their approach, and also signalled that they probably did not wish to scalp us. Jimmy greeted them at the edge of camp, waving them in. Two men and a lady approached, three kids of varying ages trailing behind, all of the Indians well dressed against the cold in grey furs, and carrying fur back-packs. They puzzled the horses, being nervously led to the fire, a guard filming with a video camera.

  The lead man uttered a few words, Jimmy lifting his data-pad.

  ‘Computer, search language database for Indian tribes, Washington State or Colombia, 1750s.’

  ‘Who are you,’ came from the data-pad, the Indians puzzling the talking object.

  Jimmy gestured our visitors towards the fire, food soon offered up by Susan, chocolate handed to the children. Into the pad, he said, ‘Do not be afraid, we are friends from afar.’

  The pad translated, the Indians shocked by the talking box, sniffing it and touching it.

  Jimmy faced the guards. ‘Sheet on the ground, one tied above it, make a shelter for our guests.’

  The guards laid out a green poncho, Jimmy gesturing the Indians to sit on it, another green poncho soon thrown over a rope tied off between two trees, elasticised lengths pulling out the poncho to make a shelter from the rain.

  ‘This shelter is for you,’ Jimmy said into the data-pad, soon translated.

  The Indians pulled out their own animal hides, and what appeared to be sleeping bags made from furs.

  ‘Yes,’ Jimmy told them. ‘Stay here with us tonight.’

  Susan handed over cups of tea, and mimicked what they should do, each adult tasting the drink, faces pulled. She then noticed that the youngest child had a huge boil on her neck, and pointed towards it.

  Jimmy lifted his data-pad. ‘We have great medicine from the gods, and can make good the child.’ The pad translated, the father gesturing Susan towards his daughter. Susan grabbed her medical kit as the adult Indians lifted electric lamps, examining them and puzzling the light without fire.

  ‘We bring magic from the gods and ancestors,’ Jimmy told them.

  ‘Where is your village?’ I asked.

  ‘No village, we move with the game,’ came from the pad.

  ‘Are there more of your people?’ I asked as Susan prepared an injection.

  ‘Many people, we see in lands south.’

  ‘What are your people called?’ I asked.

  ‘Lummi,’ came back. ‘Here Skagit, we trade.’

  Jimmy had been reading his data-pad. ‘There’s not due to be any Europeans around here for … twenty years or so.’ Jimmy faced the Indians. ‘You see people like us before?’

  They nodded. ‘In south.’

  We exchanged looks as the youngest daughter prodded her boil, now numb from a localised anaesthetic. Susan injected the girl with a low potency version of the super drug. Facing the Indians, Susan said, ‘The girl will have hot skin for a day or two, give water and rest, and in seven days will be well.’

  Jimmy hit an icon on his pad and it translated, thanks given. ‘Tell us of the people in the south.’

  ‘They make cave of wood, trees moved and lined up like they sleep.’

  ‘Do they use magic?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘No magic. They hunt, they make home for fish like beaver, and take seed from us for winter store. They grow tall maize and keep in wood cave for winter.’

  We exchanged looks. I said, ‘Seems like they’re low-tech, and back to nature.’

  ‘They must have had some technology when they left their mother ships,’ Jimmy countered. ‘And we detected EM signatures.’

  It started to rain, and then it started to pour down, our guests nice and dry. Our own flysheets had been rigged up by the
guards earlier, and we were now grateful of them. Jimmy rigged up a high flysheet for some of the horses, checking tethers. He was quite the cowboy.

  When I woke the sky was clear, smoke lazily rising from the dying fire, our Indians sleeping soundly as a group, all snuggled up like dogs in front of a fire.

  A guard handed me a coffee. ‘Got a thermal reading on a party of eight, mile south on a ridge, moving away from us.’

  ‘Might be the in-laws to this lot,’ I noted before sipping my coffee. Susan stirred, and I passed back the cup.

  Whilst the first guard stoked the fire and added wood, a second brought in a large wild pig. As the Indians started to stir, the guard sliced up the pig’s flesh, laid strips out on a smooth rock, and used his laser pistol on a wide setting to grill the flesh quickly. Bacon was served, the Indians most grateful.

  Jimmy appeared from across the river, two guards at his side, each of his party carrying a handful of rabbits. He plonked his catch down at the feet of the Indians, a hand gesture suggesting that he was giving them the gift. The father offered a dried hide, and Jimmy accepted, thanking the man. It would have caused offence not to accept the gift.

  After a suitable breakfast of bacon, washed down with instant tea, we packed up and mounted up, the Indians told they could keep the ponchos. We waved and smiled, they waved and smiled, and the first Europeans to meet these Indians left a good impression. I was certain that the impression would be undone in a time, and that the next white face would give them syphilis - and take their lands before shooting them.

  Jimmy had struggled to get directions out of the Indians, but now thought that he had the quickest route to the Zim, a map on his data-pad annotated. Tight river bend, large rock, tall trees and narrow pass, river on left for one day, cross river, river on right for one day, open meadow, hill on left, two days and on. Hell, we were roughly going in the right direction.

  I enjoyed the ride, and I enjoyed the peace here, the scenery spectacular. We often stopped just to stare, and to admire the beauty, a few hills ridden up just to stop and stare down them. I spotted beaver, eagles circling overhead, streams with trout and salmon, nervous elk and deer wondering what we were.

  Five days later, and we reached where the Indians suggested we would find the Zim. We made camp, and in the morning pressed on. Cresting a rise we picked up thermal signals, and EM band usage. Discounting the local Indians possessing any high-band EM kit yet, we heading our horses down towards the signals, following a river along a wide valley bracketed by tall grey mountains.

  At noon we spotted smoke rising, and entered a clearing to find eight wooden cabins built into the tree line and quite hidden, the area in front of them having been cleared of brush, a few hides left drying. A dozen grey circles of ash lay where fires had been made. The clearing led to a river, a few dead trees with bleached bark sticking up out of the water, a make-do wooden bridge crossing the river, just wide enough for one person at a time.

  And I spotted a Zim stood staring back at us. Jimmy led the horses into the centre of the clearing, and eased off as other Zim started to appear from the cabins or from the woods. I even spotted a few children, but these people were not dressed in furs, they wore human style clothes.

  With the guards keeping their hands on pistols, and holding back, Jimmy walked forwards as I jumped down to join him. Halting some ten feet from the approaching Zim, Jimmy shouted. ‘Do any of you speak English?’

  A Zim stepped forwards, appearing more human than the others. ‘I studied the language.’

  ‘My name … is Jimmy Silo.’

  The Zim exchanged looks. ‘I know this name. You are the leader of the time travellers, a group of linked worlds.’

  ‘Yes I am, and I mean you no harm. You were tricked into coming to this world by humans … who mistrusted other humans, after which we fought a brief war with your people. Not many of your people were harmed, nor ours, and we agreed a compromise. I have found a world like this, but one with no humans on it, and your people will settle there, they’ll even develop diplomatic relations with us.’ Jimmy edged closer. ‘Kindly translate that.’

  The man shouted the translation, a language that reminded me of German for some reason, very ordered.

  Jimmy added. ‘Question is … where do you want to live?’

  ‘We are happy here.’

  ‘If you stay here, then in generations to come you will mix with humans, some of whom will be prejudiced, some will fear you, and some will wish you gone.’

  The Zim spokesperson took in our party. ‘Why did you come here, and what do you want of us?’

  ‘We came … because we found out that you had been sent here as a trick, and to give you the chance to rejoin the others.’

  The spokesperson translated, a few terse comments coming back as other the Zim closed in.

  ‘What you do not know, human, is that we left an overcrowded and polluted world, and we desire to live simple.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Jimmy offered the man. ‘But I fear for you, because the humans here are plentiful, primitive, and barbaric with it. They’ll wipe out the Indians, take their land, and they won’t like you very much. We know our own history.’

  ‘We could adopt human appearance.’

  ‘Yes, and that would fool people up until around 1980, when they’d see you as a threat. Unless of course … you’re planning on infiltrating the humans … and influencing them.’

  ‘We have no desire to do so, and those of our people here who wished the old ways were killed or banished.’

  ‘We … detected EM signatures,’ Jimmy floated.

  ‘We have communicators, heating units, scanners to look for dangerous animals. We possess few weapons, and those we have we use for hunting.’

  I was now alongside Jimmy. He faced me. ‘We could send a team to affect this world. A bit earlier than normal, but … it may just make things easier.’

  I faced the spokesman. ‘If we’re involved here, then we can make sure that this world develops our way, and that you’re left alone.’

  ‘You would not wish us gone?’

  ‘You’ve been here twenty years and started families,’ Jimmy noted. ‘Would be rude to move you on. Besides, you couldn’t make a worse job of it than the humans that will inherit this land.’

  I put in, ‘We could keep the Europeans out by being here ourselves, and we ourselves could infiltrate the nations here, the British, the Spanish and the French. Maybe we’ll avoid a few wars.’

  Jimmy announced, ‘If you want to stay, you’d have to agree to cooperate, so you’ll need to contact the others and discuss this with them. In the meantime, we’ll make camp here and get a fire going. We too … like the simple life away from cities and the pollution.’

  We made camp as the spokesman chatted to the families, but it did not seem to be a heated debate. They brought out pigs and slaughtered them, several fires soon going, other Zim arriving on foot from downstream. Our guards rode out and shot many rabbits with their laser pistols, the catch handed to the Zim children, who each knew how to skin a rabbit and cook it.

  The spokesman offered Susan and me a bed in his cabin, Jimmy in the next room, and it was warm and cosy overnight, a log fire roaring. In the morning, I noticed that many more Zim had arrived - all on foot, small groups huddled and chatting, arms folded for the most part. The kids played games, and behaved like kids, sticks tossed into the stream, the adults either preparing animals to eat, cleaning hides, or chatting away in groups.

  At the evening meal, held outdoors, several large wild pigs were roasted over open fires, the mood positive, the spokesman informing us that email type messages had gone to all Zim, and that replies, opinions, and votes were coming back, the appointed leader on his way. He also pointed out that almost a third of the people had lost the use of their communicators in recent years. Batteries, no matter how sophisticated, only last a certain time.

  The group’s leader arrived in the morning, having walked with his gro
up all night, and he again appeared more human than the others, also having studied us. Jimmy greeted him with a handshake.

  ‘You are the one called Jimmy Silo?’ the leader asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What happened to our fleet and our people?’

  ‘Ships from many of our worlds arrived, and many of your small craft were destroyed before your leaders agreed to negotiate. We had shut down the portals, and trapped your people off-world.’

  ‘And the outcome of those negotiations?’

  ‘We found your people a planet devoid of human life, and they’ll settle there, diplomatic ties extended, a ban on portal use or space-faring technologies.’

  The leader studied us both for a moment. ‘And your purpose here?’

  ‘To save you.’

  ‘Save us? Who would attack us here?’

  ‘Cowboys - and the US Cavalry lead by John Wayne, sometimes Burt Lancaster,’ I carefully mouthed, the man puzzling the reference.

  Jimmy shot me a look. ‘We won’t attack you, but in a hundred years or so the humans of this world will. We can be … barbaric, especially during our early history.’

  ‘And the solution?’

  ‘In order to keep you and them apart, we would need a presence here, a permanent liaison. That would also give you access to our medical facilities, and any disaffected citizens you have here could go join the others.’

  ‘There are a few, not many, but they would rather be gone, and we would rather they be gone.’

  ‘They can come back with us if they wish,’ Jimmy offered. ‘They’ll be safe.’

  ‘You came here … on horses?’

  ‘Yes, from a portal six days ride north,’ Jimmy said with a smile. ‘I like to ride. Would you … like us to send a few horses over to you?’

  ‘We had similar beasts on our world. They would make life here better, yes.’

  ‘Then we’ll send a breeding herd over, and anything else you need.’

  ‘Why be so accommodating?’

  ‘Because we’re better than you,’ Jimmy bluntly stated.

  ‘Your history is full of wars,’ the man countered.

  ‘Our history is yes, but where I come from there hasn’t been a conflict for a very long time, and all nations cooperate. My task … is to educate, to lead, and to bring along younger worlds, so that they can join that group. The humans here will need guidance just like on every other world, so we may as well guide them – as well as guide them away from you lot.’