CHAPTER 21
Based on Cole’s input, Sean Elliott was leading an element to take care of the grave of Akhtar Malik, the element’s deceased interpreter. He had Cole along. Cryder was well behind where he could shoot anyone. Dr. Sheridan was along for samples and such.
He was glad of the soft rain, even if it was cold. It damped down noise and traces.
They were dangerously close to the village here. Argarak had shown no signs of slacking off. There were probably two factors at play. First, he had to show he was strong in the face of a threat. Second, none of his warriors had suffered any long-term harm in these engagements, so there was no need for him to stop. There was every reason for him to continue, and every reason for the Americans and Bykos to only use stun. It was a game they played. Still, those spears could kill, and the armor the soldiers wore didn’t cover everything all the time.
The graves had markings, if you knew what to look for.
Cole pointed at a slightly sunken area with a crescent of rocks above it.
“He’s buried here. And so is their son. He died of a fever about a year ago.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.” The poor Afghan really had a shitty life. Raised in a post-war zone, then a war zone, then displaced in time with no way to comprehend it, and now dead.
Cole asked, “Are the buried corpses a problem? I can’t think why, but I gather you’re worried. Would they be apparent?”
Under her dripping Gore-Tex hood, Sheridan said, “Very. Wrong bone structure, wrong wear and age patterns, possible dental work. DNA mismatch. Archeologically and anthropologically, we have to make those go away.”
“Ah,” Sean said. “I guess I was aware of that, but it’s not something in mind for me.”
Sheridan said, “That’s why I’m here.”
Sean nodded. “Okay, then let’s dispose of them.”
Cryder asked, “Do you have rituals we need to observe?” He was now only a few feet back, but still scanning around, and had one of his mini-drones orbiting, leaving a cut through the droplets.
Sean Elliott, Captain, US Army said, “I’m going to make a decision here that must be kept secret.”
“Go ahead.”
Sheridan put in, “Obviously, we can’t take the bodies to our time. I’d love to, and look at them in my lab, but I know you don’t want us to, and they’d be found by others. There’s no way I could keep the research secret.”
Sean said, “If we can’t have them, and they can’t stay here, then we either need to take them quietly for your purposes, or find a way to destroy them in place.”
Cryder seemed relieved. “I’m actually glad you’re practical about it. I wasn’t sure how Sergeant Dalton would act.”
“I think he’d agree, but he shouldn’t know, or the others. And Lieutenant, you can’t mention this.”
He looked concerned. “What do I say if asked?”
“Tell them we marked the grave for later recovery with specialized equipment.”
Cryder said, “I’m marking it now, actually.”
Cole asked, “How will you make it match?”
Cryder held up a vial. “I’ve an enzyme formulation that can ensure rapid decomposition of any remaining tissue. Then a small drone that can disrupt soil. Substantive traces will be gone. Chemical traces will be minimal.”
Sheridan agreed, “That sounds properly effective.”
Sean said, “You have my clearance to proceed, if you need it.”
“I can do it by drone.”
Five minutes later, the drone was on location, lowering to the ground and rotating slowly. Everything seemed clear nearby as it landed.
At Cryder’s control, the drone extended a probe into the ground. He got a reading he liked, nodded, and retracted it.
“Material sample,” he said.
Next, the drone hovered and drained the fluid over the ground. That looked rather obscene. A small container came from somewhere else aboard and dropped a device that looked a hell of a lot like a sci-fi movie creepy crawly. It was about two inches long with claws all around an open maw. It drilled its way into the soil in about a minute, then there was nothing. As far as the liquid…
There wasn’t any real activity to be seen.
“That’s it. We can check it tomorrow.”
“What about the device?”
“It’ll recover when I call, and they’re easy to destroy with fire or other oxidation processes. Onetime use.”
“Cool. On the one hand, I’m glad you have it. On the other, it’s a bit disturbing. How many do you have?”
“Enough for each of us, all of them, and presumed offspring.”
That also was disturbing, that it was so matter of fact.
Still, that item was accounted for. Sean would write it up, and that was one less item to be concerned with for either the US or Bykos.
Kate walked across to the lab awning, munching a bagel with cream cheese and ham. The field rations were very good here, and it tasted fresh. She wasn’t sure if this had been packaged, reconstituted, or converted, but it was good.
There was a stack of samples to run basics on—personnel samples of various bodily exams, some dirt, some clothing, especially footgear. Disgusting, but informative. She finished the sandwich in two bites to get that out of the way before work.
Raven was already processing something, with charts on screen.
Kate paused for a moment, then said, “That isn’t the same screen as yesterday.”
Raven replied, “I needed different processing, so I adapted it.”
“Did you cha—”
She stopped as the woman glared at her.
Right. Don’t be overheard. On the other hand, how were the Bykos going to miss the fact that the twenty-first-century woman had cracked and reprogrammed some of their software? They might regard it as hostile.
Kate thought furiously if she should order it to stop, or look aside. She certainly was not going to mention it to the Bykos, either way.
They were trying for as much information as possible. If Raven could get it this way, great. There was a risk in anything. If she was good enough to crack their software, she might be good enough to hide it, though that seemed awfully smug and pretentious.
Instead she said, “Is it working better for you now?”
“It is so far.”
“Good. We’ll process a lot of data this way. I hope our hosts will be happy as well.”
Shug came over with some specimen jars, and pointed at the southwest corner.
“From there,” he said.
Raven replied, “Thank you very much, Shug. Now I need the same thing from down at the bottom ward.” She pointed.
He nodded and took more containers. He walked off with them.
Kate confirmed, “You’ve got him running sample errands?”
“Yes, he wants to help and he’s detail oriented, although he has no idea what I’m doing here.”
That was actually a plus. The kid was illiterate and couldn’t blow cover.
She acknowledged with, “I’m glad he’s able to help and feel useful.”
While they handled samples and data, she kept a random eye on the goings-on.
The visiting local girls seemed nice enough, polite enough. Was that best behavior as guests, or impressed by magic equipment and weapons? That might be something to follow up on. She made a note.
Arnet and Sergeant Caswell fed them, and there was the usual after-meal booze, and then a bit of music. Oglesby came over with more food and drink for them.
He said, “We’re giving them some space.”
Kate said, “Good,” at exactly the same moment as Raven. She was amused. Raven didn’t appear to notice. She was actually working both screens at once, samples on the right, some sort of Byko program in their screwy alphabet on the left.
She checked her own sample processes. They were going as planned.
There was nothing else to test at present. The Byko gear took a lot of the fussy detail and chemistry out of it. They didn’t even have to wait for results. Bang, there they were. The genotyping was fascinating, and one theory on occupation of the New World just got a big boost, while two others were pretty much out of the running. Unfortunately, there was no way to release that yet.
As to the technical matter Raven was covering, there was no way to even discuss that it existed. The woman was impressive, but damn, she was arrogant. That extra PhD was probably cause and effect of that.
Kate walked to the kitchen and grabbed a drink, then wandered down to the fire and awning, which by default was the village green, local pub, gathering spot, living room, etc.
To her nonmilitary eye, it was still apparent who the displacees were. Their body language was different. In some ways, more casual, but also more alert and attuned to the surroundings. They were clearly tracking animals, wind, other noises. She could hear something like a dog or coyote. Was that domestic or wild?
She took a seat, took a sip of her rum and Coke, and listened to the minimal conversation. There were updates on stuff back home, on the Byko equipment, on what was going on in this time elsewhere in the world.
Most of them seemed ready to return, and trying to acclimate as best they could for now. She really wasn’t sure about Munoz. He seemed like the type who, if he didn’t think there was a good lawsuit coming, might just decide to stay. Then there was Lozano and his…kink. That brought up bad memories for her. She still hadn’t talked to him and planned to avoid doing so.
It was a fascinating study in sociology and motivational psychology, though. She’d make notes and offer them for the researchers and therapists. It was amazing how much data could come from such a short study, given the richness of the material.
Sean texted his people and the Bykos, then restrained himself until after the visiting women went to their tents in the dark. They seemed very disappointed their chosen mates weren’t sleeping with them.
Everyone in his unit gathered by the first vehicle, the de facto HQ, and Cryder fingered his controls.
“The audio is one way in now.”
So was airflow, apparently. There was a bit of heat from one of the vehicles, and it was much nicer than the near-freezing damp outside. That and hot coffee made it much less unpleasant.
He opened the discussion with, “So, it appears there’s another displaced group nearby. Sergeant Spencer thinks they sound Medieval. We need to figure out how to handle this.”
Spencer said, “Dark Ages versus Medieval. It matters.”
“Hell yeah, it does,” Raven agreed.
Cryder raised a hand enough for attention and said, “Can’t take them on this return. The process is coded for us, your displacees, and a very limited number of others. We hadn’t anticipated offspring, nor another element.”
Sean said, “That makes sense. So, that’s another trip for someone.”
Arnet said, “We need as much info as possible first, from drones, cameras, persop, anything tha cn make transition estimates more accurate.”
“So we have to be in this general area until then.”
Cryder agreed. “Correct. Also, we have to recover items in the cave. Get Shug to his people. Then proceed to departure point and wait.”
Oglesby said, “It seemed so easy in the planning stages.”
Sean smirked. “Yeah. Feel for me. I have to make all the calls, then justify them when we get back. There is no higher authority.”
Dalton noted, “I’m amazed the Army didn’t force you out and a colonel in.”
Sean replied, “I almost wish they had.”
Spencer commented, “I’m glad they didn’t. He’d have decision-making authority, and probably a complete lack of any subtlety. Or else he’d be so oversensitive we’d have daily EEO briefs.”
He knew that too well. “You’re probably right.”
“I hope you avoid all those pitfalls if you stay in, sir.”
“I’ll do my best. A certain amount of flexibility is necessary to do so, however. It’s not as if you can refuse some of those orders.”
He continued, “The second issue is that we’re not going to have less interaction with the local group. We have to recover more material, and you’re all aware of the emotional bonds that have to be broken.”
It was Jenny Caswell who said, “We really should relocate as fast as possible. For their emotional well-being. The drawn-out interaction is almost a taunt, and doesn’t allow proper coping.”
Spencer said, “Right. Except we have to get those other artifacts. That’s the quandary. The easiest way to avoid conflict is just hump to the departure point now. However, we have to research this other group as best we can. Cryder says we can’t take them with us. Mass amounts.”
Dalton opined, “Then we should aggressively seek those artifacts. Minimal force, but whatever we have to use that’s non-lethal. Then unass.”
Sean felt tired.
“This was supposed to be search and rescue, not low intensity conflict and cultural strife.”
Spencer said, “No plan ever survives contact with the enemy.”
He had to grin. “There wasn’t supposed to be an enemy.”
Spencer grinned back. “Nope. So the universe provided one, just to fuck with us.”
“We still have to get Shug home, too. We’ve also got to find artifacts, dispose of remains, relocate the boy, move to departure point, and avoid major conflict in the process.”
“Once the guests leave, we need to appear to vacate the area. They’ll probably still follow, but we’ll at least slow them down with distance, and give the right impression.”
Arnet suddenly put in, “I have interesting news.”
“Oh?”
“One of the recon drones found some of the expended cartridges. They’re small enough it’s able to recover them with onboard equipment.”
“Excellent. How many?”
“Seven so far. I’ll have it perform a pattern in that area, looking for others.”
“And, of course, we’ll need to sneak back for any remaining artifacts we can find.”
“I wish we could assume that because nothing happened forward, they were never found.”
Cryder shrugged. “That seems logical to me, but the scientists don’t want to take a risk.”
Sheridan nodded. “I agree. Fewer variables is almost always better, unless one is doing a scalar compara…Anyway, yes, do try to get them.”
“Moving will also keep them busy with the process.”
Dalton sat up suddenly.
“How about a compromise?” he put in.
Sean asked, “What do you mean?”
“Moving keeps them busy. We relocate partway. That means they’re packing, moving, unpacking, pitching bivouac, and occupied. It puts us farther away from Argarak and his goons, which extends their logistical train. It also makes us appear less of a threat. As long as we have the vehicles and are within a couple of hours, we can get things accomplished.”
That was a very workable idea.
“Cryder?” Sean asked.
“Gives us a measurable radius for operations. I can do a terrain recon now and see what there is.”
“Please do. Sergeant Dalton, thanks, that was an excellent suggestion.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Glad I could contribute.”
“As soon as Cryder and I agree on a location, we’ll prep to move, and I assume we can move after breakfast tomorrow. Be advised.”
There was a volley of “Hooah, sir.” The awning opened enough to be public, but kept the draft out. Some dispersed to the fire, others to bed. Sean took his coffee to the fire and sat watching flickering flames hissing against raindrops.
Shortly, Cryder waved from the orderly room, and Sean strode up the hill.
“What do you have?”
Cryder had a map, an aerial photo, and a corrected and enhanced overhead view.
“This location is thirteen kilometers away, has a running water source, timber for fire and as windbreak, around a sufficiently clear hummock and meadow to allow easy encamping.”
Sean looked it over. It easily fit all those requirements.
“That seems perfect.”
The man grinned. “No, but for our current requirements, it’s excellent.” He obviously understood the rhetoric, and was just being a smart-ass.
Sean ignored it and said, “Let’s plan to move after breakfast.”
Dan Oglesby dug into the movement. He was basically excess at this point, with reliable local translators available. Shug remained with him, as usual. The breakfast dishes were stowed, the kitchen folded into the back of Roller Two. He helped Arnet fold and stow the awning. The latrine would be near last, after ensuring everyone had a chance to use it.
It was cold but clear, frost burning off, and exercise was welcome.
Arnet instructed, “Press there while I close the cover…that’s it. Can you assist Dalton with the wards?”
“Hooah,” he replied, and jogged over. Shug followed him.
“Hey, dude.”
Dalton replied, “Yo. Want to carry them over as I pull them?” The man grabbed the one nearest, heaved, and it erupted from the ground with some grassy clods of Earth. He banged it off and handed it to Dan.
Once he and Shug each had a half dozen in their arms like firewood, they trotted them up to the vehicles and Arnet stowed them. In short order, the camp was struck, folded, stowed, and they were ready to roll. All their gear was aboard. They didn’t even need CamelBaks for the hike. Though Caswell and Dalton were armed, in addition to the vehicles’ onboard weaponry.
There was no way for them all to fit on the vehicles, but the captain ordered rotations at each rest break, with Dr. Raven and Kita to ride all the way. Lozano got to ride in back outside, cuffed and with a stun collar. His expression was still a sociopathic challenge. He didn’t care what they thought.
It was awesome to watch the little girl climb in with her mother, so nervously. Since the vehicles were near silent, she only noticed activity when it started moving. She clenched and gripped hard, pinching her mother’s elbow, but settled down shortly. She climbed atop Noirot’s lap to watch the landscape move by, and seemed delighted at the amazing pace of fifteen miles per hour. After all, they didn’t even have draft animals here. No one had even put dog teams on a sled for winter, yet.
He wondered why the troops hadn’t suggested that, but the terrain wasn’t really viable. Those travois things might work, but he didn’t know anything about them.
Shug was happy to walk, delighted to ride, and pleased to be grasping more English. The kid would make a great recruit. Eager to work, worked until told to stop, tried hard to understand, and assumed leadership had a plan, even if he didn’t know what it was. Almost the Army’s ideal. Of course, once he learned a bit more, he’d get jaded. Though Elliott was a far better commander than most.
Dan thought about himself. He wanted to figure out what else he could do, since translation was pretty well covered by Hamilton, who was quite reliable, and Shug, who was a good parallel while around. They’d probably need Dan to keep cross-checking the others, and listen in on any recorded convos for intel. In the meantime, he was a general support NCO for everyone.
When Dr. Raven got in next to him, he asked, “How is the research, ma’am?”
She replied, “It’s going well, though much of the analysis will have to wait for either a Byko lab or ours.” She shifted in the seat and winced as she found a spot for her ankle.
“Man, their lab would be great, if they allow it.”
She squinted and replied, “Yes, and no. When I write it up I need to explain the processes used, and that isn’t possible with theirs. Also, they’ve said there’s certain data they won’t allow. But it’s political rather than technical. If I can get the samples or the findings at least to our labs, I can study it to the best of our ability and go from there.”
She had her tablet out and was doing something with complicated symbols he couldn’t comprehend.
He replied, “I see. Theirs would be better, but yours is more supportable.”
She glanced up and said, “That’s a good way to describe it. How similar is this language to the one from your previous trip?”
“Well, it’s interesting. It’s obviously been a long time, and the dialect change probably would give some insight.”
“Oh?” she paused and stared. “Can you describe?”
He thought about that. “Well, complicated terms are different—for things like hunting, material preparation, dealing with the spirits. Simple terms, like food, water, lodge, are recognizable even with some drift.”
She nodded, and winced as they rolled over a hummock. “That makes sense, based on the little I know. Can you write up a comparison with the terms you’ve encountered? Even a few hundred would be useful to paleolinguists. They might match to some early known languages, or they can use it to study separation, which would help with gauging population spread.”
He asked, “I thought you did that with genetic markers.”
She nodded. “We do, but also with linguistics, artistic styles, technical industries. It’s all relevant.”
Twisting his head, he replied, “Honestly, it would be hard. These aren’t written languages and they use a bunch of tones and sounds that we don’t have in any modern Eurasian language.”
“Yes, you’d have to create or define symbols for the sounds.”
He pointed out, “That’s basically creating a new alphabet.”
She smiled. “Uh-huh, that’s what Sequoyah did to create the Cherokee written language, though it’s a syllabary.”
She was definitely suggesting he put the effort in.
“I guess I’ll do what I can,” he said, not sure he really wanted to, as interesting as it would be, but damn, he’d be writing a fricking book. “In the meantime we can find some way for me to record.”
“We’ve been recording Shug and anything the recoverees put in that language since we found them.”
“Oh, well that helps. But they’re more fluent and might be better suited.”
She noted, “They learned it, but I don’t think any of them have an extant knowledge of ethnology and linguistics.”
“Mine’s only a self-taught level, and what DLI taught me. But I am interested in studying more.”
“I can absolutely suggest certain agencies fund your study in exchange for your findings.”
“Sure, but how do we possibly explain how this happened?”
She shook her head and replied in detail. “We don’t. What we do is extrapolate and see what we find in the known languages, apply that, and see what sort of drift we get. That would be compared back to what you have, and then used to retroactively define some findings. You’d be listed as an analyst and proposer and we’d make up some reason you were interested. Which I dislike, but under the circumstances is necessary. I just hate any dishonesty in the process. It always gets used to justify more.”
His name on a professional paper, actual professional training in linguistics, and possibly several years work analyzing his own notes.
Well, hell. “Bring it on then, ma’am.”
“Awesome,” she said with a cheerful grin. “I’ll get you set up to record and write. And I’m not opposed to offering suggestions, but you need to make it your work because you have the knowledge.”
“Hooah, as we say.”
As they walked alongside the rolling vehicles, Armand Devereaux talked to Keisuke and Maldonado.
He was straightforward, but kept his tone casual.
“How are you gentlemen adapting?”
Keisuke replied with enthusiasm and no hesitation. “Ready to go, sir! I’m a bit tense, because it doesn’t feel real, like I’ll wake up back here.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “We were like that after we got notification.”
“How did you get that, sir?”
Armand remembered it clearly. “Cryder and Arnet rolled around camp, left tracks, then approached in daylight completely invisible, but with a PA system. That was a shock. We met up, they came into our camp, set up their gear, which wasn’t quite as nice as the full kit here, but still good. We were all getting along and slowly building diplomacy with the locals. I even had a couple of dates. Then one morning, there was this sort of bang-pop, and there was a dayglo box with some sort of transponder and notes. They’d found us. There were directions to the evac point, and then we had to get the Neolithic types, the Romans, and the East Indians all to come along. That took some diplomacy and juggling. It was two years for us, a bit less for some of the others. We sat there waiting and then wap!, we were in the Cog…Bykos’ time.”
“Neat. I’m going to be nervous, but I’m waiting for it.”
He said, “Excellent. We’ll have some more admin crap to deal with, that will help with the time.”
Maldonado asked, “How long have you been a doctor?”
“I’m actually doing civilian residency now,” he replied. “Which is a bunch of bullshit, because I did reconstructive and lifesaving surgery here using available tools and the remains of my field kit. I hate being the new guy, when I’m not.”
“I can see that, sir.”
“What about you, Maldonado?”
The man shrugged. “I guess I’ve come around. First it was, ‘Yay, home.’ Then it was, ‘More Army bullshit I’m gonna hate, and I hate it already. Those fuckers owe me.’ But, yeah, I want to go home. I don’t suppose there’s some way to credit this time against my current enlistment and just get the fuck out?”
Armand replied, “Actually, I’m sure you can. I don’t think the general will have a problem at all signing that.”
Maldonado raised his eyebrows and seemed a bit mollified. “No shit? Well, good. So, five more weeks here, about the same in Bykoland or whatever, and then for the Army?”
“Probably about the same, yeah.”
“That’ll leave me needing a job and lodging, but I’ll have leave pay.”
“You’ll get some bonus and back pay, too. They should be able to work something out.”
“Well, cool. I wish I’d known that before I was an asshole. Sorry.”
He grinned. “You could have asked.” He was about the same age as Maldonado, but felt old and wise in comparison.
“It never occurred to me to ask the Army for anything.”
Yeah, he had a point there.
Keisuke said, “I’m going to consider that, too. I definitely want to go home, no question. But if I can get out as well, that’s even sweeter. No, this wasn’t the Army’s fault, but it wouldn’t happen if I wasn’t here. So, fuck ’em.”
Armand noted, “We’re not sure it doesn’t affect civilians. We haven’t seen any displaced from our time. But the Gadorth—Neolithic—and whichever group you say is west of here aren’t really military. The Romans were. The small group of, I guess, sixteenth-century Moghuls were, but there were ten of them that I know of. So half and half on military versus civilian. Though I guess the earlier ones were still hunting bands. And this other group…”
He thought for a few minutes.
“You know, I’ll need to ask Cryder about this.”
The Byko electronics must have informed the man of the comments, because the vehicle moved out of line, alongside, and Cryder leaned out the window frame.
Cryder said, “It seems to favor remote groups who tend to be hunting parties or military. We haven’t seen displacement from heavily inhabited areas yet, and we’d prefer not to, for obvious reasons.”
“Yeah, that could be a disaster of leaks or deaths or both.”
“Definitely both.”
Kate Sheridan was glad to ride most of the way. She knew Raven was, too. Rough country hiking—and what was rougher than completely untamed wilderness?—was definitely for the young and fit.
Though really, most of it was riding, with the troops not aboard clinging onto the vehicle shell with its conveniently placed loops and steps. They only dismounted over really shaky terrain.
It was quickly apparent that Cryder could monitor all the conversations. She reminded herself to never talk about their other research where he or the vehicles were within reasonable range. And just how sensitive were they? She tried to calculate audio wave propagation vs. distance vs. air density, and realized she’d need to sit down to do it. But it should be possible to calculate safe distances for whispers, conversation, shouts, and apply a safety margin. There were things they had to discuss occasionally. Also, some could be masked as other conversation.
The seats in the vehicle even fit her large frame. Well, they adapted, contouring her hips and shoulders and providing a neck rest. She could easily nap like this, but wanted to stay awake. The windows were almost a dome and allowed an excellent view, and the terrain was really pretty for not having been shaped by humans. The trees had a chaotic, fractal beauty. The erosion was unique. Not having a road ahead gave it a surreal alienness. And it all smelled so clean, earthy, and fresh. The outside temperature felt only slightly cool with the vehicle and her clothes. But it was present.
Arnet was the one who first said, “This is it. We’re now twelve kilometers from the village. There’s a small stream we can draw from.” He pointed. “Sufficient terrain to reduce wind. Good field of view. Plenty of sun.”
That latter was becoming important as the season cooled.
Cryder said, “It fits my parameters. Captain Elliott?”
The Army officer agreed. “It works for me.”
The new camp went up quickly, wards first, and everyone understood the multiple reasons why. She helped carry them from the truck to the soldiers setting them. At least it wasn’t just “We don’t trust the lost contingent.” There were threats human and animal, and it was good to have a defined border.
The troops shook their bivvies out and set them in a ring around the fire, and she followed. Sergeant Spencer took charge and requested the officers to be nearest the vehicles and on each side, Byko and American. He then directed himself and Dalton at the far point just outside where the vehicles posted. He put all five females on one arc between them, with Noirot closest to himself. Sergeant Caswell was next to her, then Raven, then Kate, then Oyo. Dalton’s side had all the recovered males. Lieutenant Cole was directly adjoining Elliott.
She approved. That should keep things under reasonable control. This was a pretty effective Army unit, and it meshed well with her and the Byko. They weren’t really “locals” but they were certainly “allies.” She’d been on some recovery support where no one talked to anyone and the Army had sticks up their ass.
Unheard by the rest, Sean Elliott asked Arnet, “Can you automate a stunner to respond to that arc if there’s an issue?”
“I can. I will, after confirm with Cryder. I assume he’ll agree.”
“Perfect.”
That left one matter. He walked over and talked to the prisoner.
“Sergeant Lozano, you have to retain that collar. But if you will agree to come along with the program, even under protest, you can have a tent with the rest of us.”
“With respect, sir,” he said with little, “I’m actually kinda cool off by myself.”
“If you insist. I hope that wasn’t an attempt at reverse psychology.”
“Nope. I would actually prefer to keep my separation from you fucks.”
Fair enough. The man could have that. “Suit yourself. Arnet, Oglesby, can you erect the jail over there?”
Arnet grinned broadly and said, “With extra wards.”
Ultimately, though, the man was going to be a problem. And until he was passed off to higher authority, he was Sean Elliott’s problem.
All of them were going to be problems. Pissed off, worn out, disgruntled, reproduced, psychologically damaged. Why couldn’t the Bykos have gotten them in within two years?
Shug found it all confusing. They moved camp a good day’s hike away. The shape of the camp changed. People moved. Other than that, he couldn’t grasp a reason for it. They weren’t chasing game like the nomads to the north. They hadn’t moved that far.
This was a good place if the weather stayed nice. They had a clear view, a nearby woodline again, along a stream, and the ground was even enough for a camp. He helped carry wards and shelters—“tents”—and cleared rocks and debris. He stomped down a couple of anthills. Arnet ran one of the tools across the ground to the stream and they had water, and another back for waste. The wards went up. The ground was cleared of grass by a tool with a fast whirling thong.
The tools were amazing. He could often tell which were American and which were Byko. The American tools were usually less complicated and single purpose. Byko tools were just magic, even if they said they weren’t.
Once his tent was set up, he washed his hands at the waste area and stood ready to help with dinner.
As they lined up, he greeted those he could.
“Hello, Amalie,” he said, feeling honored that a shaman that even the captain and Dan held in respect granted him her bare name.
“Hello, Shug. We’ll be doing more samples tomorrow, if you can help.”
He grasped that. They used special bits of dirt, grass, and rock for their learning, and the long lines of signs they drew were an entire tribal memory of knowledge. She had even shown him their exact location on a picture that shrank to show what she said was the entire people world. That was done with something else, but their work was important to all people, and he was pleased to help with gathering. She said that certain special shamans would have his name remembered as helping, even it was in a small way. He worked hard to remain humble, because he didn’t even know how to explain that, since he barely understood it, and what would it mean to anyone? But these very wise people trusted him, and he would do all he could to make them pleased with his effort.
“I will,” he said. “Dinner smells good.”
She replied, “Yeah, it’s some sort of chikken. That’s a bird that doesn’t fly. It has a big breast and lots of meat.”
That sounded good. He’d had chikken before they came back here. He wondered…
“Is it here? Or some bird like it?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “It comes from far south and changed a lot over many families.”
That was sad, but he’d enjoy it while he was here. Hopefully he could get back to his village soon.