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CHAPTER 36

BANG!


After the transition, Sean and his element were standing in a chewed-up circle of dirt inside a snowscape.

“It appears to be winter,” Oglesby said needlessly. It was goddamned cold. The wind bit, the driven snow stung, and skin burned.

Everyone dove for the vehicles as the Guardians opened the clamshells. Sean wriggled into the gauze-thin outer garment, and felt warmth returning quickly. He was thankful again the Byko had damned good field gear.

“This was bound to happen eventually,” he said.

Cryder pointed some instrument at the leaden, drooping clouds, and said, “Time’s about seventeen hundred local. Estimating late February. We’re within near five kay of their location.”

“What year, though?”

“I don’t have that yet,” he admitted. “I will need stars.”

Sean said, “Meanwhile—” as Arnet said, “We should pitch camp.”

The bivvy tents unrolled just as easily. Arnet directed everyone to face them inward in an arc, and Sean took over on that. Meanwhile, Cryder drove his vehicle around with an attachment that turfed up a berm, sort of like a massive plow. Just how much torque and horsepower did those trucks have? The wards were placed in a tight circle, set high to diffuse the wind. The vehicles were parked on the windward side, and dropped curtains underneath to cut the blast. The shower and latrine were set up, and Arnet ran what was apparently a handheld ditch witch to create a drain channel.

An awning inflated over the small camp, with a central hole for ventilation or smoke. A windbreak deployed on a third of the arc. It was a combination Roman castra with a Mongolian yurt.

With all that and a small space heater, it was quite comfortable, and Sean was even able to unzip partway. It was probably about 30°F inside the perimeter. He checked his phone. Yes. 28°F.

Cryder tossed down something and struck a flame. Whatever it was was a source of fuel, and they had a small fire. It added little to the physical heat, but a lot of emotional warmth. Fire was home, and had been for humans for how many thousands of years?

He asked SFC Spencer.

Spencer replied, “As far as I recall, definitely a hundred-K years, possibly a million, some evidence as far back as two point three but it’s inconclusive. Arnet, Cryder, any insight?”

Cryder said, “Your information is within range of our own estimates.”

“Is it? Or is your information within my range and more refined?”

Cryder smiled, shrugged, and said nothing.

Sean said, “So fire’s an intrinsic part of our soul.”

Dr. Raven put in, “What you have to remember is that fire, shelter, and sharpened sticks and rocks predate us as a species. We inherited those. We are genetically toolmakers and fire builders.”

“Hmm. I hadn’t considered that.”

She asked, “What’s your first instinct if something doesn’t move that should?”

“Hit it with a…damn, you’re right.”

She actually grinned. “Yup. Not even a conscious thought. Grab a rock and hit it. Grab a stick and pry it. Grab a rock, sharpen a stick, and poke it. Concepts beyond most animals are innate to us. We’ve certainly had fire long enough to predate Homo Sapiens and behavioral modernity.”

Dalton looked a bit uncomfortable, but less so than he had in previous conversations.

Spencer said, “Well, we’re comfortable for tonight, which is impending. Do we try to sleep when we just woke up? Hardball through until tomorrow?”

“Watch a movie?” Doc asked.

Sean replied, “Cryder, my plan is work a bit late, sleep a bit short but long enough, and get to attempting contact in daylight. What do you think?”

“That seems reasonable. I hope to have stars to compare by then. I’ll know exactly.”

Doc asked, “You have that good of a reverse star atlas?”

“Yes.”

Doc said, “I have something like that, but it’s all estimates, not exact enough for that range.”

“We have all those estimates, plus additional observation window. Ours is more accurate, and we’re obviously revising as we do these trips.”

“I wish I’d had that.”

“You did remarkably well. When we arrived and discussed it, I was quite impressed.”

“Can you share that atlas? It seems benign enough.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I’d offer more with monitoring and let the symwork clip if it needed. Here I’m reluctant to discuss anything technical.”

“Fair enough, but dammit.”

Food was ready in short order, and since they’d restocked, it had fresh fruit and vegetables, and a very savory dish of meat with onions, with a side of pickled salad.

“Lamb?” Doc asked, and Dr. Raven replied, “Mutton.” It was obvious she was not a fan.

Chunks of meat that were apparently mutton. Potatoes. Carrots. A savory broth. Buttered bread to dip in it. It was an appropriate meal for the environment, though pot roast would have suited him better. Mutton was just okay.

That aside, the campsite was very comfortable, and an engineering marvel. It had taken minutes only to berm, revet, cover, and pitch. He wondered what else field equipment like this was used for. You didn’t need defensive wards for rescue operations. Certainly they were a useful safety feature, but they’d been thrown in place here as a deliberate step of the construction, obviously rehearsed. Nor did you need a berm for animals. A berm was for stopping armed intruders. The ability to do both indicated the anticipation to fight in a rural environment that favored these tools. It wouldn’t work in a paved MOUT environment. It probably had some provision, though.

He didn’t think it was a good idea to ask.

They sat around the fire for a bit. He called final formation and let people head for their tents to watch video or whatever. Most of them stuck around sipping a warm cider-like beverage as the fire’s fuel pellet burned.

Overhead, the blowing snow eased off. There were occasional gaps in the clouds, but he had no idea how many referents were needed to isolate their location.

He crawled into his tent and activated the video. He pulled up the original Star Wars and watched the familiar classic, dozing occasionally because it was dark and he had nothing else to do.

After it scrolled away, with that amazing closing theme, he crawled back out of his bag, pulled on boots, and headed for the latrine. It was chill outside now, but workably warm enough. His phone said it was 44°F. The enclosure worked.

Cryder sat in the reestablished CQ, though it had additional windscreens now, and another space heater. Well, expecting to go back soon, they could afford to use more energy. The vehicles had a decades-long power source.

The man had his one-way viewscreen up and was typing and swiping in the air to write or code whatever he was working on.

Sean waited for a momentary break and asked, “Did you get any starlight?”

Cryder nodded. “Just barely, a few minutes, but enough. We’re four months later than our last visit.”

Oof. “Better late than early, but that’s a fair piece. I hope they’re not too unhappy.”

“Assuming they’re still there, though it seemed a workable location.”

“Only about five kilometers, you say?”

“Yes. I did some overhead recon. We can drive to within a kilometer.”

“How should our advance be?”

“Everyone, armed. We’ll secure the camp, drive in, walk in, discuss. That way we have backup. I’ll have Arnet in solid position with the heavy stunner.”

“That’s a sound approach. I like it.”

He crawled back to bed for a few hours. He woke again when Arnet buzzed at the crack of twilight.

Some things didn’t change with time, though it might be partly the military. Breakfast offered hot beverages, biscuits and gravy, hot oatmeal, and hot sausage with scrambled eggs.

He forced some of each down, to ensure he had energy, though he wasn’t hungry at the moment.

That done, everyone armed up and loaded up. The sun was just making a glow behind the still-present clouds, which were now a heavy gray.

The camp self-secured. They rolled out, and the wards remained active. Nothing other than a few birds could get in.

The vehicles did leave a visible trail in snow.

Behind him, Spencer noted, “That’s what I saw the first night they approached us. Suddenly there were those broad tracks, not animal, probably machine, but nothing had been on thermal, IR, or visual.”

Arnet said, “We were as discreet as we could manage.”

“Oh, it’s fine. But it was disturbing as hell at the time.”

It was impressive how the onboard nav system even found paths between trees, rocks, and other features. On screen, he could even see roots and rocks highlighted. Their route meandered and rambled a bit, but inexorably moved toward their destination. In thirty minutes, they were much closer.

“This is a good location,” Cryder announced, and the vehicle powered down.


The captain dismounted, Martin Spencer and the rest followed his lead. He moved back a bit, and watched as the vehicles vanished. There was a faint shimmer and fade as the screen neutralized. Up close, about three feet away, there was just barely a demarcation visible.

Cryder said, “Let’s go. Please lead us the way you did.”

Right. It was Arnet along last time.

Elliott said, “I want buddy pairs, three-meter spacing. I’m not aware of imminent risks, but if anything tries to flank we can envelop. Oglesby with me. Spencer with Cryder. Caswell with Dr. Raven. Doc with Dr. Sheridan. Arnet with Dalton.”

“Lead on, boss.”

The gear was warm, but the snow was still a hindrance. It varied from a dusting to knee-deep drifts, depending on how it blew through the woods and collapsed from the limbs above. The ground under was well frozen. The leaves and twigs crunched loudly, but they wanted to be found, so he didn’t worry about it.

The dogs alerted first, echoing in the cold air. They marched within two hundred meters of the clearing when a voice shouted out, obviously asking who was there.

“Hellooo!” Martin called back. Carefully enunciating he added, “We are the Americans from last year.” They might not understand it, but it should at least sound like a modern language.

There was a response, and it sounded like the same dialect as last time, fluid, definitely Germanic, but with undertones of what sounded like Latin or French or Scandinavian.

They came into view of each other. The sentry was atop a platform about man height, giving him a better view but without excessive issues getting up or down. He called behind him, and there was more loud conversation.

Someone familiar peeked over the palisade.

“That’s Wulf,” Oglesby confirmed.

“Well, good.”

The gate slid open, and Wulf appeared with a handful of picked men.

He wasn’t hostile, but certainly not friendly. It took a bit of effort with Spencer, Oglesby, and the translation device to get discussions going.

“You took a long time,” the man groused.

Martin offered, “Traveling can be very difficult. But we are here now.”

Wulf bid them enter the village, and had mead and biscuits brought out. This time, the local children were visible. That was interesting. A quick count showed the same twenty-three German adults, two children, and six mixed kids.

“Who are your others?”

“Shuff Torand Cryder is the band leader from the wizard’s world. His wizards are the ones fixing the problem. The women are wise advisors and manage our meals. Those two speak to the gods.” He hoped that was good presentation.

Wulf faced the women and offered a nod of his head, and an outspread arm of welcome. All three returned the nod, and Raven did it over cupped hands, as some sort of gesture he might take as beneficial.

Wulf noticed and replied, “Thank her for me, I appreciate the blessing.”

Elliott turned to them. “He says thanks, so I guess it worked.”

“You’re welcome,” Raven replied. She seemed quite serious about a ritual he was pretty sure she didn’t give a crap about. Good.

Wulf asked, “When do we travel home?”

“Twenty days. We must meet the Bykos at a shaman spot, a revered place for them. The proper prayers to their gods will make the travel happen to their land, and they can easily send you from there to your home.”

“Yet it took you all season.” He didn’t sound doubtful, but he did sound concerned about the issues. He munched a biscuit and chugged some mead.

The captain continued, “The travel itself was brief. They had trouble reaching the right location.”

“How do we approach this?”

Cryder said, “We must all walk to the location. It’s about four days’ travel. We will depart from there.”

“That seems easy enough. Why wasn’t this done before?”

“We had to know you were missing, locate you, travel here. We only were able to do the first two because we were looking for the other group.”

Wulf nodded once, curtly. “Fair enough. How much space is there for goods?”

Cryder said, “You can take any personal goods you can bring. However, the gods will not allow people from this place to travel to your place.”

Wulf shook his head dismissively. “That is unacceptable. We have taken wives, they must come with us.”

“It’s unfortunately impossible.”

Wulf waved that aside.

“I’ll sacrifice to the All Father and it will be fine.”

Martin said, “Cut translation. I’d say this isn’t the time or place to argue with him.”

The captain nodded and tried a distraction.

“The Bykos have many fine items. Look at this sword,” he said as he drew his.

The man paused, looked, then took the weapon to examine. He held it up carefully to sight along the blades and flats, breathed onto it to see the layered pattern.

“It is very fine work,” he admitted. “Among the best I’ve seen.” He hefted it some more, obviously pleased with its balance. Martin didn’t blame him. You picked that sword up and wanted to start gutting Saxons.

You’ve never seen anything close to this quality, Martin thought.

He said, “Their wizards can do metal work of this quality.”

Cryder took over. “We’ve only a few days to be in place for the wizards. You can bring what you need, but it will have to be portable. None of the tools and shelters are necessary.”

“There’s valuable iron in many tools,” Wulf pointed out.

“Yes, of course bring those. They are important.” They had to be relocated or destroyed anyway.

Wulf nodded, turned, and started shouting orders, interspersed with gestures.

After a few moments, he turned back. “You have sufficient food for us?”

Cryder said, “As last time, as I’m sure your armsmen can tell you, our supplies and preparation are up to the task.”

“How far must we walk?”

“The first is only about three thousand paces. The elderly and needy can have transport some of the way, on our carts. We can come back in two days.”

“That’s generous of you. Two of the women are near birthing, and Adan is spry for his age, but our eldest.”

“It will be an honor to let your elders ride. I hope we can hear their stories and learn some of their wisdom.”

This was getting easier. Really, all the cultures wanted the same courtesy, exchange, respect. Details varied. Against that were the time constraints. Building a relationship was something he’d seen in A-stan. It took time they didn’t have here.

“Let us know when everyone is ready to move.”

“It will be soon. I am unhappy with the shortage of horses. We came with four. We have only seven.”

“Do bring them of course. And the dogs.”

“Excellent.”

Yeah, until we leave your women behind. This is going to suck.

Cryder said, “We’ll return then.”


They walked and drove back to the camp. Once inside the wards, Cryder immediately gave orders in a calm, clear voice that said he was used to being obeyed.

“I need the wards moved out ten meters, with a bias to include that stream.” He pointed. “Arnet will follow with the trencher. I have additional screening and tent panels here. I need three people to assist.”

Sean ordered, “Dalton, Oglesby, Caswell, please assist with the wards. Spencer, myself, Doctors Sheridan and Raven will help with the tent.”

The tent was sectional, but very lightweight and hard to control in even a breeze. Though once one corner was fastened, the rest went together much more easily. It was a modified lean-to with a peak and partial slope on the open side. Sean recognized the overall style as something the Germans would be familiar with.

Then a folding awning/side panel attached to the sloped peak and it was a proper wedge tent, about 15'x30' and a good 18' tall at the peak. The wards were apparently done, and Dalton came over with a pile of folding mattresses and blankets that would keep everyone warm. The lightweight fleece would probably be recognized as a high-status fabric, above that of the wool they were used to.

Oglesby hauled in a wagonload of wood, already cut and split with the Byko tools.

In short order it was an impressive camp, and everyone was hot, worn, and grimy.


Two days later, they went back to the Nordwandlaz.

It took a couple of hours, some of it standing around, some of it sending Oglesby and Dalton, then Caswell and Sheridan, to assist in packing and moving. He watched Sheridan swipe a few test strips and drop them into marked bags for later analysis.

Gear was distributed among all the men and some of the women. They packed as much food as they were able, and there was no reason to prevent that. They’d be more comfortable with their food and it reduced the drain on resources. It all went into baskets and haversacks, looped over shoulders, and some of it onto a sledge to be dragged, including the jugs of mead. The horses were mostly being led, two dragging the sledge, two others hauling a small wagon. Sean gathered the complete lack of roads limited the usefulness of tall wooden wheels. The dogs were harnessed to travel alongside, and how many of them were mixed between some sort of German hound and the archaic breed?

Wulf announced, “We are ready. I wish there was time for a sacrifice. It would make for better omens.”

Cryder offered, “I can bring a live yearling to sacrifice later, according to the gods’ wishes.”

That got a smile and a friendlier nod. “Excellent, sir. Thank you.”

They started tromping and dragging back through the woods.

Cryder apparently unscreened the vehicles from a distance. Both were visible as they approached.

He and Arnet reached down and deployed the running boards at side and rear, and popped up what appeared to be a bench like a golf cart’s.

“Your elders will sit here, out of the wind. The young and the women may hold here.” He indicated the rails above the running boards. He gestured, and Martin assisted in pulling out the trailer. It unfolded as a wire cage that was much stronger than it looked. He snapped the corners open and gave a thumbs-up.

Cryder indicated the side.

“Your goods go here. More may ride in here. I’d suggest children and mothers. The rest walk between the carts.”

It was near another hour before everyone was coordinated. With modern drill the Army might have done it a bit faster, but with administrative delays, it was probably pretty close. That these people were used to the cold was an interesting factor. It didn’t cause them haste, but it didn’t bother them, either.

Several stared suspiciously as the vehicles moved without draft animals, but the near silence appeared to satisfy them it was some sort of constrained magic.

The Germans sang a low tonal march as they moved. Sean looked around and Sheridan held her phone up, indicating she was recording it.

It was only about an hour to the site, and the Byko clothing was very effective even against biting wind and stinging snow.

Arnet explained the shower and toilet, and Cryder had one of the domes up.

“No hot tub,” he said, “But we do have a sweat lodge they might appreciate.”

“Excellent,” Martin agreed. They probably would.

Oglesby and Raven were setting low extruded benches on log sections around the fire. Caswell had something delicious ready to serve.

“What do we have, Jenny?” he called.

“Venison stew with carrots, celery, potatoes, peas. Thick bread and butter to dip in it. A cheese pie I’m told they might like. Berries and cream for dessert.”

“Damn, that sounds good.”

“Along with hot cider, ale, mead, and plenty of clear water.”

“You remain amazing, thank you.”

Arnet was actually busy programming the fabricator. Whatever he was doing took detailed input, and he was even sketching on a physical tablet. He muttered occasionally, made faces, and looked like any contemporary artist with a problem. He pulled at his chin, rubbed the back of his head, and nodded. Then he switched back to fingers in the air and on a touchpad, and whatever he was working on commenced function.

The entire crew lined up gratefully for dinner. There were a half dozen children and Martin was surprised it wasn’t more. Must be more of that incompatibility. They were mindful, much more so than contemporary kids, and thrilled with the camp.

“Captain, can I suggest a tour of the wards and such for the kids? And some sort of light show and music? Poppy with a good beat and some illumination?”

“Good idea. I’ll talk to Cryder and maybe Caswell about it.”

Everyone piled into the food, quaffed drinks, and toasted both their hosts and the unseen wizards.

“It will be great to be home!” Wulf cheered, and the others concurred with raised cups.

Dalton slid alongside Martin and the captain.

“I have an idea that might help,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Ask the ones with local wives if they’re married back home and how they plan to explain it.”

Elliott nodded and raised his eyebrows. “Possibly. What do you think?”

Martin shifted his neck. “I’m not sure,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Some of the younger ones may still have been single, or single again, wives dead in childbirth. Some might bring them back as mistresses, de facto second wives.” And dammit, he didn’t want to delve into that subject. “I suppose it’s worth asking discreetly when you get a chance.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”


Sean Elliott thought the idea had potential. Any they could persuade gently they wouldn’t have to use force on. This ray gun diplomacy was easy to use, but easy to cause trouble with. So far it had meant displays of force and anger, with no real subservience or agreement.

Then the idea fell completely apart.

Cryder stood in the middle with a bundle of cords. He held up one of the amulets Arnet had fabricated, and spoke.

“These are magic medallions from our shaman. The symbols hold the power of the travel spot. You must wear these.” He walked slowly, methodically, and almost ritually around the circle, handed them out one at a time, and ensured each man wore one.

“I would suggest you also pray to your Allfather for success. He knows of this magic, of course, and will bless it.”

Wulf noted, “We will need a sacrifice. You mentioned a good yearling, and some of our mead will draw his favor.”

“I will find the yearling.”

“It might even require a human sacrifice. A strong warrior’s spirit.”

That was disturbing.

Cryder responded completely seriously and calmly, “That shouldn’t be necessary. There are many gods at work here, all wanting the return to go well.”

The conversation continued, and by the end the Nordwandlaz seemed satisfied. Cryder returned and sat at his desk under the awning. The young kids all swarmed into a game of tag. The cold didn’t bother them, and it was quite nice here. They were attractive kids, with mixed features and coffee-colored skin.

Sean walked up, and asked, “Did you just equip them all with restraint collars?”

Cryder replied completely flat, “I did.”

Trying very hard not to bust a gut laughing, he replied, “Man, they’re gonna be pissed.”

Again, the reticence. “That’s acceptable.”

Sean had to admit the presentation had been brilliant. Nor would it matter if others asked for collars, too. He assumed the Bykos could easily set the controls to exclude or include whomever they wished.

“How far from here to departure point?”

“Only eight kilometers this time.”

About five miles.

“Easy for the fit, and you have space for the young and the old.”

“Yes, we’ll move in a day or so.”

“When are you going to separate them?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Soon has advantages in moving fewer people. Waiting means less discussion. Either way we’ll have to subjugate them. Any input?”

“Let’s wait a day and see.”

“We can do that. We’ll need to move after that.”


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