CHAPTER 39
Sean Elliott was anxious. It was half a day into the third day. Their backup was supposed to arrive, but it could take another day and a half. The sooner they split things, the better he’d feel.
Everyone was discreetly near a weapon. The scientists had melding weapons sitting at their table. Cryder and Arnet stayed near the vehicles with the additional support weapons. Spencer had his AR-10.
Far away near the trees, though, that looked like movement, which resolved as multiple figures. Hopefully that was the expected party. If not, the weapons would be needed ASAP.
Arnet flicked a mini-drone into the air, swiped his finger across his controls, and it zipped out of sight, up and toward the approaching party.
He brought up zoom shots, and yes, that was who they were expecting, and there was Shug. It was nine men, no dogs.
“Ready trade goods?” he asked.
Sean indicated so with a point. There was a pile of baskets, tunics woven of the local cloth, pot, liquor, rope, bags of the fake flint tips, and how were those affecting the local economy, where knappers were a meaningful and valued member of the tribe? They’d have a reduced workload for months.
During fabrication he’d asked Arnet about the fake points. “How do you do that?”
Arnet’s reply was, “Our system programs a matrix that has an asymptotic decay rate.”
Sean realized he’d basically said, “It’s magic” in slightly technical terms, without explaining it.
Within the hour, the group was at the wards.
Shug was along, wearing the coat they’d gifted him with. He grinned at Sean, and impressed his tribe by saying, “Hi, friends. Come can in?”
Sean replied firmly, “Welcome, Shug, and umma, and friends.” He repeated it in a phrase he’d asked Oglesby for, and memorized. He added the “and umma” from what he remembered, and apparently was close enough.
It was interesting that the chief had come along. Probably he wanted to be able to bargain or instruct.
Once inside the wards, he invited the party over to the CQ.
Through Oglesby, Sean greeted the umma, whom he’d not met until now. The man was tall, buff, had a full head of thick hair hanging to his shoulders, and seemed very composed.
“It’s good to meet you at last. I’m the co-commander of this mission. Does that translate?”
Oglesby replied, “I can make it work.” He chattered something, and at least this dialect had less of the clicks and glottals they’d encountered in the past before this. Parts of it almost sounded like a recognizable language.
They exchanged formalities, and he pointed to the pile. “There is a good basket and sack for each of you. The pouches contain our best bifaces, and we hope they meet your approval.” They should. They were produced to be at the peak of human visual symmetry, just random enough not to look machine fabricated. “They also have some strong cord, some treated tinder.” Which was nitrated to smolder and burn very fast. “As well as ochre, and some very pretty polished stones.” Arnet had fabricated azurite, malachite, garnet, smoky quartz, and something else. They were striking. “Here is a package of the communing leaf, for you to distribute per your customs.” He handed over a large pouch with a lot of weed in it. “Also two containers of the very strong beer,” which was what they called the rum last time, apparently. “This is a coil of our best rope,” from bark from local trees. “I added some spear shafts we spent a long time straightening.” There were a dozen, quarter split from a log, and then turned round.
It was all quality goods for this era, and amazingly cheap for his own, much less the Bykos. But it would serve as a good diplomatic gesture.
Cryder said, “Lastly, here is travel food.” He held up sticks of dried meat and fruit, and slabs of what were basically an enriched sugar cookie. “This will sustain you.”
Oglesby looked pretty wrung out after explaining it all and trying to get the courteous nuance into it.
The umma expressed his gratitude with claps, and asked back, “May we drink to our good meeting and your good departure?”
“Sure,” Sean agreed. “Everyone gather around.”
They walked to the firepit, and dragged a jug of mead and one of rum.
He announced, “We will share in friendship before we depart.” He took a chug and passed the mead, which was better than last time, but not by much, and then the rum, which was really good, which he passed the other direction.
Himself, Cryder, the umma, Shug in a high status spot for this, Spencer, Wulf, Sheridan, Raven, Oglesby, Dalton, Caswell, then on to the Germans.
It was going well, until one of the tribesmen said something, and one of the women exclaimed.
Oglesby muttered, “Aw, shit. He just said they were taking the women.”
“Fuck.”
Cryder and Arnet leapt out of the circle, were atop a vehicle as Shug tried to hush the man, and the women started jabbering.
The women were suddenly penned by force fields.
Wulf turned around looking murderous, and bellowed a war cry as he charged at Sean, with Gurm right behind.
They fell down and plowed in, out cold. Sean could just hear the ZIZZ from Arnet’s weapon. Spencer lowered his carbine. He’d been ready to shoot to defend his commander, no questions asked.
The dogs went berserk, straight into defense-and-attack mode, and Arnet stunned them all.
Wulf’s wife ran to his prone form, shouting. She tugged for his sword and rose, ready herself to do battle. She apparently had some familiarity with weapons, too. Arnet zapped her. Lils was right behind, and thought better of it, stopped.
By now everyone was armed. Caswell was keeping the Paleo women and men separated. He was puzzled for a second, then got it. All the groups needed to stay apart until it was under control.
The women’s force field slowly coalesced until they were one group. The Germans were all penned individually, along with shrieking children. Several drones circled overhead, apparently taking charge of that. Cryder was ready on the support cannon to mass stun. Arnet focusing on point targets.
Sean called, “Oglesby, tell the women they need to go back to their people.”
He translated.
They shouted and cried. Then the men started shouting.
“The spirits demand this. It’s unfortunate but necessary.”
Wulf and his henchman were just waking up. That delayed things momentarily, but didn’t calm anyone down. They shouted among themselves, pointing to one another and the Americans and Cryder. One fingered his collar and went into a long diatribe.
It was surprising how quickly the Germanics figured out the collars were the cause, and again tugged at them, desperate to remove them.
The two stunned leaders twitched and moaned, then rolled to all fours, and rose unsteadily.
With a hard eye, Wulf faced Cryder and stated, “You are an oathbreaker.” It was obvious he’d be demanding a duel if he could.
Cryder replied, “I never promised your request. I said we’d discuss it later. This is the discussion. You will comply. That is the discussion. Now we are done.”
The separated women hunkered together behind their force field. The children tried to run to them, crying and calling out.
God, it was heartbreaking.
Sean turned to the umma. “As soon as you are ready, we can release them to your care.”
The man had a shocked and appalled expression, and replied through Oglesby.
“He says, ‘We will keep our words. It seems yours are questionable.’”
Shug, in English, said, “You much hurt everyone.”
He felt compelled to reply, but he couldn’t explain.
“I apologize for the necessity of our actions. The gods tell us what we must do and time is short.”
The former was a lie. But he couldn’t explain the necessities.
The umma said, “We are ready, then.”
Cryder tossed a coil. “Here’s more rope to secure them.”
“Jesus,” Sean muttered.
They literally collared the women with rope, and how old was that symbol of control and slavery?
Shug helped round them up, looking back in something bordering on contempt. Whatever goodwill they’d had with him was gone.
Once the ropes were well tied, all the Byko shock collars they wore popped free and fell.
Cryder spoke, “We do wish you well, and good health and long lives. It’s unfortunate it must be this way. We will leave soon, and not bother you again.”
Once rounded up and kitted out with pack baskets and satchels, the party made to depart. Shug came over and made a point of hugging Amalie, Caswell, and Sheridan, and no one else. Not even Oglesby.
Sean felt like crap.
As the group trudged off, the children’s wails rose to a crescendo.
Sean felt worse.
“They hate us. The village hates us. The Germans hate us. The people in charge of the cave would probably try to kill us all over again. This has not been a good trip for diplomacy.”
Cryder actually seemed to show some emotion.
“I agree. No casualties of us, though. Minimal outside. Best we could manage.”
It didn’t seem like enough. “I really wish you could have taken the mothers.”
The man finally broke into a scowl. “Didn’t like that order myself, friend. Want a hit of something to forget it?” He pointed at the box that held the medical kit.
“No. Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
He turned, and he was facing Caswell, Raven, Sheridan, and Dalton.
Caswell said, “Sir, I want to do what I can to keep the children occupied.”
Raven told him, “I’m a parent. I need to do something for them.”
Sheridan shrugged. “I’m not, but damn, please.”
Dalton said, “I can even avoid talking about Christ, but these people need some comfort. I’ll talk to the men.”
Sean turned back to Cryder.
“Can stun from remote if we must. Your ruling.”
Sean sighed. “If you can.”
As he expected, everyone shied away from the Americans. No one tried for hostages, though. Apparently either that wasn’t in their code, or they realized it was a waste.
Wulf waved for attention, and he approached.
“How may I help you, Wulf?”
“Several of us have changed our minds and will stay,” he stated.
Sean sighed.
“The gods will not allow that, nor their wizards.” He thought fast, and before Wulf could object, added, “Our worlds, our cultures, can’t mix now. It was a horrible mistake, and undoing it is awful, but it must be done.”
The man looked angry, but his response was measured.
“Will we be able to talk to the wizards about this?”
“Possibly. You can talk to their leaders. I don’t think it will change anything, but you will have the opportunity.”
“What do we do for food and shelter now?”
“You have cabins, we’ve got firewood, food will be provided. We will magically move to their world in ten days. You should all comfort your children. Our wise ones can talk to you if you wish.”
“There is nothing for you to say that we will hear,” the man replied. That sounded like an insult.
That evening, the Americans sat around eating silently. The Bykos sat in Roller One. The Germanics gathered around a fire near their huts, speaking in low, angry tones.
Dalton finally commented, “I’m not sure they’ll ever get over it, and I feel like crap.”
Sean sat still, but replied, “I think everyone does. We go back in ten days, so there’s that.”
Spencer said, “I hope those collars stay working.”
Right then, Cryder came over from the CQ.
He waited for them to all pay attention, and said, “For the remainder, I want two on watch at all times. Can you schedule that?”
“We can,” Sean agreed. “It’s a good idea, too.”
Dalton asked, “How are they doing over there?”
Cryder replied, “Telling stories to the kids. Women dishing up the extra pudding I made for them. Looks like they’ll all bed down in a couple of cabins with the women.”
Raven’s voice cracked. “I hope it helps. Poor kids. No way to grasp it.”
Oglesby’s comment was, “This wasn’t going to be fun to start with. Now it’s a disaster.”
They resumed silence and finished eating.
It was ten days of boredom and mistrust until they were ready for transition. The atmosphere was chilly physically and socially. The day before movement was spent clearing camp, reducing footprint, and warding everything into the proper radius. Trash was gathered and recycled, wood products burned. Another tent was erected, the Germans moved into it, and their cabins dismantled to burn. They seemed to understand their presence here was being erased. The horses and dogs were penned in with them, at one end of the oval they occupied. The horses were very restless with nowhere to run. Arnet fabricated extra-long leashes and collars that let them graze wider and walk.
Dalton and Arnet did the demolition, with two of the Germans helping, under watch and looking bored, but in need of exercise. Both were buff and fit. They did well enough, though Dalton impressed them with his strength, and they were awed by Arnet, who picked up entire logs by himself and carried them to the edge of camp.
Once done, Roller Two deployed a scraper blade and shoved them all into a pile. Once it was parked, Cryder lit it up from Roller One, and the timber burned hotter and faster than it should, with occasional bursts.
“Extra oxygen?” Sean asked after one of the flare-ups.
“Liquid ozone.”
“Damn. Impressive.”
By night it was a large bed of coals. Arnet staged a small turbine fan to blast that into yellow-hot plasma. Then he used Roller Two to disperse the remains across the landscape.
“That’s it,” he announced with a faint shrug.
All long-term evidence of displacees should be gone.
The final morning broke clear and warmer, over 50°F, and the radius was reduced even more.
Cryder shouted for attention.
“Today is it. We go to our place, then send others home. That will take time. We leave here any time in the next several hours. Stand by and wait.”
Sean watched his troops wasting time on their phones, obviously avoiding any thinking, while Dr. Sheridan and Dalton stood guard with Cryder.
He was contemplating that when
BANG!