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CHAPTER 38

Daniel Oglesby was watching a firewood-splitting contest while snow blew around in swirls outside the wards. The Germans loved the Americans’ axes for their ergonomics, sharpness, and durability. They were working on single-swing splits of smaller limb logs, and generating a nice pile of firewood in the process. One of the dogs played catch with chopped limbs, and dropped them into the pile.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it and glanced down at the screen. It was the captain.

“Yes, sir?” he answered.

“CQ.”

“Yes, sir.” He stepped back from the festivities and walked to the center.

“Here, sir,” he reported as he arrived.

“Dan, you and Sergeant Spencer are going with Cryder. Plan to translate.”

Well, good, that was actual use of his skills.

“What am I translating?”

Spencer said, “We’re going to ask Shug’s people if they can take the separated women.”

He nodded at once, but replied with a caution. “I can do that, but, sir, they’re likely to be unhappy with how we’re treating people. I’m sure they’ve heard of our other activities.”

Elliott nodded. “Probably. That’s why I’m sending Sergeant Spencer as well. I need Dalton and Doc here to back me up with Arnet if anything happens. The three of you should be able to hold your own and disengage at least, and then we try a Plan B. Ideally, though, we get the locals to take the women back in, and either adopt them or re-home them with their previous tribes.”

“Hooah.”

Cryder said, “Like to leave in thirty. Fabbing more gifts.”

“Hooah again,” he agreed, and went to grab some supplies and knock down his tent.

Shortly the three of them were moving in Roller Two.

Cryder told them, “First we ’limnate their village.”

Dan remembered that, and being surprised by it. “Ah, like last time.”

“Yes. Faster, hang on.” The man gunned the drive and the vehicle bounded across the landscape.

Dan paid attention to the trees as they drove to the village. The route was shifting, turning, bouncing even with the Byko vehicle. If he didn’t keep eyes out the window, he was going to get sick.

This was the opposite direction from their previous trip, and the terrain was thicker and more overgrown. Progress started out smoothly, then lagged.

The vehicle slowed as they reached a point where the trees were too thick to proceed. Cryder studied his charts and scanners, apparently seeking a detour. Not finding one, he fingered the screen and glowing markers indicated trees just ahead. He grabbed the joystick for the weapon control and announced, “‘Fire in the hole,’ I think you say.”

Two shots flashed, two trees erupted near their bases and slowly bent over, creaking and splintering and toppling. They’d been hit near flush with the ground, and despite the protruding slivers, seemed passable. In fact, they were as Cryder drove over them, the vehicle rising, bending, and shifting as it rolled over the shattered trunks and stumps.

Then he had to squirm the truck between other trees, and Dan swore the vehicle actually bent as it did.

It was a matter of minutes before they pulled up next to what had been the Germans’ palisaded village.

He said, “I’m actually surprised no one else has moved in yet.”

“They would,” Cryder replied. “Might maintain it. It must go.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He was slowly feeling better. Damn, what a ride.

Martin Spencer asked, “Can we take a look around real quick?”

“Yes. Interest?”

“I want pics of some things.”

“Noted. I can get some too.”

They dismounted, and walked in alert across slushy, mucky ground. It hadn’t been maintained in several days, and the straw and twigs outside had been trod down by departure. Inside there was a corduroy walkway of staked limbs. That made things easier.

Martin wanted pictures of all the industrial operations. That was a small charcoal furnace. In the next building was the smithy, and he grabbed a sample of slag in a plastic bag. Cryder let a drone circle, getting multiple spectra. He hoped that gave good info and that it could be shared at least privately.

In a half hour he had good views of a loom, hand spindles that looked exactly as he expected, pole lathe, vise bench hewn of wood, several bloomery furnace remains on a built-up rise, leather tanning tanks, an outhouse with barrel that stank until his eyes watered but was similar to military first-deployment builds he’d seen, a smokehouse, a sauna, and the cooper’s shack for making the wheels.

Oglesby said, “Damn, you and Gina really did know your shit. Those tools look the same.”

“Pretty much. Concept leads to form, which follows function.”

Cryder ran his image drone around everywhere and it took samples as well.

“Need anything else?” he asked.

Martin shook his head. “We have data, all their stuff, the rest can go but I wish I could keep some of it.”

As they trudged back to the truck, Cryder smiled. “You guys built better.”

He continued, “My sensors are clear, too. I’ll start at the left and work over, then.” Cryder sat down in the seat, touched his control panel, and the weapon array rose behind the cabin. A few more fingertaps, and tiny rockets HISHed from their launchers. They impacted about ten seconds apart, shattering the palisade timbers, exploding cabins, turning everything into splintered debris. Each one sent a pressure wave slapping the vehicle, throwing dirt and leaves, and blasting the undergrowth in perfect atmospheric rings. Within a couple of minutes, the entire…borg was probably correct…was nothing but firewood.

Cryder’s second weapon lobbed fireballs. They were probably rocket lifted, but were certainly oily, liquid incendiaries. He was faster on the trigger with those, and their overpressure waves were smaller, though the heat was palpable through the open window.

“Should do it.” Cryder nodded in satisfaction. “River’ll change course, the ash’ll be dispersed, no evidence should remain.”

Spencer agreed, “Seems likely. You surprised us the first time you did that.”

“Wasn’t sure how anyone would react, and wanted it done quickly.”

“It was fine. We weren’t coming back.”

Cryder noted, “Yet here you are.”

Dan returned, “Yup. So are you.”

The man grinned. “Agreed. Like a curse.”

Cryder steered the vehicle north and across the river. He had two drones out, and the onboard sensors, building a map on a dash screen, almost like playing some computer game. The man sought shallows as far as possible, but the truck was capable of deeper water, and crossed a section briefly.

Cryder looked at his screens. “Bank steep. Need to roll downstream a bit to rise.”

The banks were steep, and rocky, but shortly widened again to broad pebbled beaches and muddy shallows. The man took the truck up and inland, then resumed maneuvering through trees.

“There we go,” he suddenly announced, and turned.

The drones had bagged a doe. He hopped out, ran a blade down the belly, zipped out the guts, and used a loop to tie it to the fender padeyes. He was done in five minutes.

It was amazing how little distance they’d actually covered, and how close together all these groups really were. Twenty miles made a difference when it all had to be walked.

It was midafternoon with broken clouds, and above freezing, when they reached the area near Shug’s village.

Cryder announced, “Got good return route plotted. Can go faster.”

In back, Oglesby softly said, “Please not too much faster. This is disorienting.”

“Will try,” the man agreed.

Martin felt a little shaken himself. It was a very smooth vehicle to ride until the terrain wasn’t.

They climbed out, Cryder camouflaged it, and they started east and north toward more low bluff. Cryder wrapped a plastic sheet over the deer and shouldered it without issue. There were already signs of people—trodden paths, marks on trees, low areas around what must be fruit bushes.

They strode along, while Cryder had audio playing from his gear, of some sort of future pop music. It was loud enough to announce their presence, not too loud for comfort, but it sounded weird. Martin had heard pop from all over Arabia and the Middle East, Africa, and Europe. He’d heard several evenings’ worth at the Byko village. He could sort of pick out some Afghan and Euro roots to this, but it was not similar.

Dogs started barking. It was amazing how fast they’d spread as a domestication. Almost everyone had them.

Shortly a voice called an interrogative. He nudged Oglesby to reply.

Oglesby called back, and in a couple of minutes they were greeting hunters who at least knew of their background from the last meeting. Cryder showed them the deer and they were quite pleased. It was a good opening gift.

Oglesby talked as they walked, and translated in between.

“They say Shug is hunting north, but the party is due back today, very soon.”

Martin raised his eyebrows. “Good. That could have been an awkward delay.”

He could pick out some words as similar to the some words he’d learned of the group millennia earlier than this, but it was like comparing English to old low German, which he had a great example for. And doing so with no background for the language. Oglesby and the machine would do a much better job translating.


Dan Oglesby was glad to be out of the heaving vehicle, and ecstatic to have actual work again. He’d practiced this language enough to be proficient, and was compiling that data Dr. Raven had suggested.

The locals greeted them, and he was at work at once.

The umma came forward and spoke in a very straightforward manner they used before switching to methods used for diplomacy or negotiation.

“I greet you. What do you need?”

“I greet you, Umma, on behalf of my myself and our leaders. Sergeant Spencer you have met. Shuff Cryder is new, but his professional hunter was here last time. We bring a deer as a gift.”

He paused. “What do I tell him we need? How far can we go?”

Spencer said, “Tell him as friends of Shug, we hope he can provide a favor for us, and we can furnish him with gifts in exchange. Cryder, can you produce a hundred kilos of salt? And a bunch of basic bifaces that match this era?”

“Yes.”

Dan ignored the latter part, translated the first part.

It was right then Shug shouted, running across the village, slowing to a walk, and arriving. He was wearing a parka against the chill, and long leggings with boots. With a fur hat, he almost looked like a tall predatory animal. He was covered in dust, mud, and bits of animal. He’d definitely been hunting.

“Friends!” he called. “I greet you!”

“Shug, we greet you.”

“You have returned! It is great to see you all. You must come and be welcome.”

“We like that, but have only little time. We are hoping you and your people can do great favor. And we can visit briefly.”

The umma smiled indulgently at the young man, indicated with a flattened hand for him to wait, and turned back to Dan.

It took a half hour to explain.

After some background and simplified summary, the man paraphrased, “So you must leave the women here, while the men travelers and children must return with you to the Byko lands.”

“That’s it.”

“We can do that. It be very hard on the women to see their children go. They don’t go to the spirit world, or grow up. They leave the world entirely.”

“Sadly so. If there were an easier way to do it, we would. This is the only way, according to our shamans, and the spirits.”

“You mentioned gifts?”

“Yes, we have them at our camp.”

He paused and turned back. “Can we provide them baskets or a sled or something?”

Cryder looked at Spencer. “You know this matter best.”

Spencer twisted his lip, stepped back, and went into the pantomime he used when “talking to the spirits.” He raised his arms, turned, then turned back.

“Tell them we can provide leather bags to carry the gifts of salt and good bifaces. I’ve seen travois here, so we can make one of those for them. We should also provide some good twisted rope of any local fiber. If you can reduce pine pitch, a volume of that. Is that possible?”

Cryder agreed, “Yes.”

Dan struggled over salt, but they understood it as a dirt that dried things and made food taste better. They understood spearpoints, rope, and pitch, and containers.

The umma said, “Yes, this is a generous agreement. When and where do this?”

Cryder apparently had that planned for. He handed over a map drawn on light leather. It had the river, the village upriver the recoverees came from, the Germanics’ camp, and their departure point.

“The other strangers’ village was destroyed after they left, as the spirits ordered,” he noted.

He turned and asked, “Cryder, how fast do we want them there?”

“Three to five days. Will have to leave again at once. We can furnish food.”

“Hooah.” He turned back.

“Can you get there in three to five days? And we have food for the return trip.”

The umma called over a couple of advisors and jabbered away. Dan caught about half the conversation, but it seemed to be a discussion of how.

“Yes, we can do that. We are pleased to ___ with you again.”

Dan didn’t get that word, but it seemed to be about friendly exchange.

“Thank you. We will go back now and see you in three to five days.”

Sergeant Spencer handed him a jug of rum, a bag of weed, and a small bag of arrowheads. Apparently, the Bykos had plenty of quality pot available for things like this.

He took them and handed them over and tried to look solemn and friendly. The umma took them and smiled back, then offered a big hug to each of them.

He then gestured, and Shug stepped forward to do the same.

Dan said, “You are a good friend, Shug. I’m glad we could see you again.”

“I am still grateful for my return. I hope one day I can travel to the Byko lands.”

“We do, too.”

He did hope so. It was very unlikely it would ever happen, though.

“We will see you in a few days.”

“I will walk with you to the veecul.”

“Sure, if you wish. We would enjoy your company.”

The young man accompanied them back along the raised bank.

“We speared a young buck antelope, and I hit three hare with my throwing stick.”

“You deserve your name, then, Stalker of Hare.”

The young man grinned. “Yes, but a buck ___ feeds more.”

Dan thought the word was for one of the ibex species.

“Well done on that, too.”

“Thank you. How are your lost friends?” he asked.

Dan said, “They’re in the Byko part of the world, getting healed and cleaned, before we go back to our part, where our elders will help them fit back in.”

“Will Kate and Ama-lee help?”

“They are so far, but we have other shamans who specialize in helping people with recovering. So do the Bykos.”

“I hope they will be well. I am doing good hunting, and Ama-lee gave me status when she said I was helpful to you. Can you thank her again?”

“If you’re coming to help pick up the women, she’ll be there.”

“Oh, good.” The young man seemed excited.

They reached the vehicle, and Cryder revealed it.

Shug startled, then smiled. “Your magic is always a surprise.”

They all hugged again. “I will see you soon, Dan, Martin, and Cryder. Travel safely.”

“We will. Good hunting to you, Shug.”

They climbed in and Dan made the decision to ask, “Cryder, do you have anything for nausea in here?”

The man popped a compartment, reached in, pulled out a tube, and squeezed a single pill into Dan’s hand.

“Thanks,” he said, and popped it. It was chewable, as most of the Byko oral meds were.

“Driving,” the man announced, and apparently took the medication as justification to dial up the speed across the terrain. They left a roostertail across the river, threw mud up the south bank, and bounded through the trees.

Dan was glad of the medication, and it seemed to work. He wasn’t sick, only terrified, as they raced between trees and over obstacles, down into gullies and then launching back up and out, with airtime. Apparently, the onboard system remembered the route, and between that and semiautonomous controls, could find its own way. It was less than an hour, with the sky getting dusky, when they pulled into view of the camp and rolled in.

They were last in line for dinner, but there was plenty. He grabbed pasta with sauce and garlic bread. That was the special Modern Only service. The Germans seemed quite happy with stewed or roast meat every night, and porridge and bread with cheese during the day, plus some fruit and veggies around the edges.

He chugged a liter of water and added some of the Byko equivalent of Gatorade. That and sitting on a chair let him relax from the ride enough to have a warm cider. It was still damned cold here in February.


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