On the Edge of Now: Book III - Redemption, page 15
“What about their two male companions?” She had little to go on other than what Ranj told her, so she remained unsure of the aliens’ fighting power.
“Good question—my only close encounter with the tall one was hand-to-hand while they rescued Claire. He could have used his weapon to end it right there—but he chose to forgo his advantage, meeting me on equal terms.”
Pa’la nodded slightly.
Ranj paused, glanced at her, then continued. “I think you’ll agree such action isn’t indicative of a cold-blooded killer. As soon as they had Claire and heard our team show up, they left immediately—I don’t feel they’re going to be offensive, or hunt us. The leader certainly knows how to handle himself, and the other male didn’t appear to be a slouch, either . . .”
“I remember distinctly your trying to hide behind those teeny rocks—either they’re lousy shots, or they couldn’t shoot with precision due to fits of laughter at your predicament . . .”
“Do me a favor, okay? Forget about that . . .”
“Not likely—it’s etched in my brain for all time,” she teased, softening her remark with a fond tone.
Each was quiet, contemplating the implications of their discussion.
“There’s something else to consider,” Pa’la eventually suggested. “In addition to our alien friends and their wolf buddies, we have a third player in the game. I get the feeling some sort of being is watching the proceedings between us and the alien group. It stays on the fringe, observing.” She paused, thinking about who else was in their territory. “Trying to zero in on it is frustrating—there’s nothing overt to prove it’s present. But—I know it’s something. What I don’t know is whether it’s a threat . . .”
Ranj was about to answer when their Commander approached. “Okay, this is a shitty situation, but we need to make the best of it. Here’s what we’re going to do . . .”
****
Burying Songa made sense, but, for the life of him, Seelo couldn’t figure it out—why construct something in the middle of the game trail? And, what did it represent? The large aliens used a considerable amount of fallen logs and sticks, and the last items placed were handfuls of moss.
He waited until they departed, following them to ensure they were, indeed, moving on. Then he backtracked until he stood before the structure. From the backside, it didn’t look like much—but, once he faced it? He stepped away so he could get a clear, comprehensive view.
Ah, yes!
Crudely built and requiring a bit of imagination, the result represented one of the large, blue aliens standing with legs apart and arms bent at the elbow. Empty hands extended outward.
He studied the figure, moving to view it from all sides, again arriving at the front. It faced the direction of the smaller, pale-skinned strangers’ camp. Is that significant? he wondered. Is it a warning, or a signal of some type? Will the other ones know what it means?
Eventually, he tired of speculating. As he headed back to his own camp, he contemplated how to interpret and report his observations. One thing was clear—recent events with the two sets of strangers livened things up. He couldn’t recall anything in the tales of his people that came close to what he experienced with his own eyes!
****
“There’s a third scenario . . .”
A momentary pause. “Of course, there is . . .”
“No—really. The phenomenon could be natural, but someone devised a way to control it.”
“How do you figure out who that someone is?”
“By trying to talk to him . . .”
“Sure—what’s their number again, so I can load it into my speed dial?”
Kyle sighed. “I’m trying to be serious . . .”
“I know—but, sometimes, you get so wound up and I can’t help yanking your chain . . .” Jackie sat with a demure smile, making it difficult to get upset at her teasing—but she realized it was time to be serious. “How will you go about doing that?”
“Well—when we contacted Tag, it was as simple as blasting sound down the pipeline, followed by the message tube. I’m not sure if he heard the tunes, but, he did get the tube and responded. Therefore, it’s possible whoever controls the portal could be listening in—and, they could be in a position to receive a message, either in physical form or through sound waves . . .”
“Okay—let’s say you get either one through to the mysterious entity. How are you going to actually communicate? It’s not as though there’s an intergalactic rule that everyone automatically speaks English . . .”
Kyle brightened at the challenge. “Aha! Mathematics!” Jackie stared at him.
“Wow—that’s going to be a scintillating conversation.”
Kyle missed the sarcasm. “If we send a primer for how our numbering and mathematical system works—assuming they’re smart because they control the portal system—we can construct a message . . .”
“You realize there’s no ‘we’, in this . . .”
“Pardon?”
“You said ‘we’ can construct a mathematical message. Look—I’m no dummy, but, I barely made it through high school math. So don’t rely on me for any help . . .”
Kyle stared at her. “What?” After a few moments of his soul-slicing gaze, she started to feel a little uncomfortable. “I can do the math—you can help with the content of the message . . .”
“That—I can do!”
“Excellent—I’ll start the numbers, and you can work on the words!” Kyle pushed his chair back and stood up, excited at the prospect of contacting . . . something.
Anything.
****
“Well? What’s it going to be?” Tag looked at everyone, although he could barely make out their faces because of the trees’ dense shadows—the only light was from flickering flames of their campfire.
After supper, they spent an hour debating their choices—pros and cons exhaustively presented—and it was time to decide. Everyone agreed—stay where they were, or move further west into the deep mountains. Those two options translated to meeting the threats from the aliens— would they decide to come after them—or, retreat?
“We had several encounters with the alien group and, luckily, we managed to avoid serious casualties . . .”
“What about my arm?”
“The girl said ‘serious,’ Devin—you’re still walking and talking,” Claire teased. “But, it’s still a battle scar you can brag about to your kids . . .”
Rose glanced at her friend. “What I’m getting at is why push the odds when we can retreat further west, avoiding them altogether?”
Tag nodded. “That’s great if they decide not to follow us—otherwise, we’re just running again. Personally, I’m getting awfully tired of it . . .”
Devin’s suggestion took the opposite course. “Let’s hang in, and see what they do—we’ll be defensive and careful. If we send out scouts to perform periodic sweeps, chances are we’ll see them before they get too close. The lookout spot from the top of the ridge is handy for that . . .” He paused for a moment, playing the strategy in his mind. “We can fight here, or withdraw to the west, if needed . . .”
“Why not,” Claire offered, “approach them with a peaceful gesture? Maybe they’ll stop their aggression—after all, they’re down one fighter, and they haven’t gone on the warpath yet. I’m thinking they’re not feeling too good about things right now—and, I’m guessing they’re wondering what we’ll do next.” It made sense to her, and she looked to each of her friends for approval. “Let’s use that—let’s extend a friendly hand to see what happens . . .” She sat back to let her suggestion percolate.
Tag was the first to comment. “Let’s say we try that— how do we do it? It’s not like we can pick up the phone, give them a call, and invite them over for a few beers.”
“Why not invite them over? It’s the communication method that’s going to be different . . .” Rose thought hers was a great idea, and she glanced at Tag.
Devin didn’t wait for Tag’s response. “Whoa! We can’t tip them off to the location of our camp—if we’re going to do this, it should be on neutral territory of our choosing so we can get the hell out of there if things go south . . .”
Tag agreed. “That makes good tactical sense—if we make contact successfully and we somehow end up as buddies with the blue group, then we can talk to them about coming over for dinner . . .”
“That does make sense,” Rose conceded. “How do we go about it?”
“I’ll do it . . .” All eyes focused on Claire. “I should be the one to make contact . . .”
“Why?” It was clear Devin wasn’t wild about the idea.
“I get it—she’s tight with the big guy, Ranj.” Tag looked at Claire. “She speaks some of their lingo, and knows more about them than all of us together. I agree—Claire’s the obvious choice . . .”
Devin jumped up. “Just a damned minute! I’m not letting her go out there as an experiment to see if they’re going to say hi, or open fire!”
“No one is going to leave her hanging! Do you think I would drag her butt from world to world—across whatever dimensional shifts—to leave her up for grabs?”
Devin took a moment to answer. “No . . .”
Tag nodded. “Okay . . . that’s our plan. Now all we have to do is figure out how it’s going to work . . .”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
By the time they returned to camp, Goran felt drained. Some of it, he figured, was fatigue—mostly, though, it was from stress and the raw emotion of losing a subordinate under his command. Not that he would miss her less than sterling character—rather, her loss put them in a bind. What will the aliens do now? He kept turning that thought in his mind, and it was the unanswered question gnawing at his confidence.
His usual, sunny self was long gone.
Without doubt, the remainder of his team wondered about their situation, as well as his ability to keep their butts intact. Thankfully, Ranj and Pa’la were level-headed individuals, not prone to fits of panic or requiring hand holding. If Songa were still alive? Well—the word ‘ugly’ immediately came to mind.
He considered his options—move forward or retreat. Obviously, there was plenty of empty territory to explore in all directions, but the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. Tactically, however, it was smart—live to fight another day, and all of that crap. However, Goran wasn’t a big fan of having potential hostile forces wandering around on his flank. Perhaps, it was better to face the threat and have it out . . .
His decision to have the team construct an effigy on the forest trail at the site of Songa’s demise was a spur of the moment thing, something Goran didn’t usually do. Once they finished and headed back to their camp, he spent most of the trip second guessing his choice. What will the aliens make of it? Will they find it? What the hell was I thinking? The only reason he went with the overture was because Ranj and Pa’la quietly supported the possibility of the other group’s response to a truce. Besides, someone had to take the first step. What the hell, he thought. Certainly, crazier things have happened . . .
Then he thought about Pa’la’s qualms concerning another entity—she definitely had a strong feeling someone, or something, was shadowing them. Either the aliens had a trick up their sleeves—which wasn’t bloody likely—or, a strange force lingered just beyond reach. Goran had to consider her comments based on the fact he trusted her instincts—if she talked about it, then something lurked in the forest. Assuming it were the case, there was no indication of its being a threat—so far. Experience, however, told him things could change in an instant.
Given the circumstances, Goran had to decide how far out he should send his scout. Would it be wise for Pa’la to conducts sweeps, as usual? Or, should they pull in their horns, giving the other group breathing room to figure out what they were going to do. He had to be mindful if no one from his camp ventured out, they ran the risk of a potential surprise attack. If they hid, however, they wouldn’t know if the aliens reacted to the effigy Goran left behind. So much crap, he thought as he marveled at the bullshit considerations diplomats endure in order to get something done.
Mid-thought, someone handed him a plate of food. He nodded his thanks, and motioned to his oversized trooper to take a seat on the log next to his. Pa’la built a fire earlier, and the pair faced the flames, their brilliance increasingly visible against the darkening sky.
“Thank you for the gesture toward the aliens . . . ” Ranj didn’t look up from his plate. “Do you think they’ll get it?”
Goran stopped chewing for a moment, thinking about how the alien team would react.
“From my time with Claire,” Ranj continued, “I know she’s bright—she’ll understand what it means. But, will it make them react as we hope they will? I don’t know . . .”
Goran grunted, acknowledging his subordinate.
Ranj glanced at him. “Should we have Pa’la check the area in few days to see if they responded?”
An affirmative nod. Good, Ranj thought as he got up. That worked—I’m getting out of here before he changes his mind . . .
****
Pa’la smiled. They weren’t any more artistic than her own group! As she stood by the aliens’ response, she was pleased for Ranj because the big lug pinned a lot of hope on effecting a truce. Undoubtedly, so he can reconvene with the small alien female, she thought. She was right thinking Ranj developed a rapport with Claire—surprisingly, it didn’t bother Pa’la, at all. She found it cute—a response unusual for her.
As she turned to leave, something tickled her senses. Another presence was close by! Slowly, Pa’la turned in a circle, carefully moving her hand away from her holstered weapon. The last thing she needed was to provoke an attack, and her move wouldn’t create a problem if things went south. She could draw her weapon in half the time of her compatriots . . .
Suddenly, she stopped, focusing on a group of bushes to her right. Although not visible, she was convinced something occupied space on the other side. It struck her as odd—the foliage didn’t provide much cover, at least not for one of her kind, or the smaller aliens. It’s not wild, she thought, her eyes focused on the bushes. No—it’s something much more sophisticated . . . and, tiny! Although she strained her eyes to see what was there, she couldn’t distinguish the outline of anything.
She started to approach. What was that? Pa’la glanced over her shoulder.
Nothing.
She froze, trying to distinguish movement or sound. Again, nothing. Inching forward, she reached the backside of the bushes. She crouched, tuning in to everything around her. The presence was gone—no footprints. No bent foliage. No nothin’.
Still, Pa’la knew something had been there.
Senses heightened, she conducted a sweep of the area, and it wasn’t until she moved past the facing wooden figures that she stopped abruptly. Something changed! The small representation of the bird changed hands on the effigy her team constructed. Unconsciously, a small shudder coursed through her. What moves like that without my seeing it?
****
That was close!
Seelo knew the large, blue female sensed his presence and, as she started toward him, he tricked her by creating a noise, causing her to look away—it was all he needed to vanish. Watching her withdraw from the area, he realized Pa’la may present a challenge—other than his own people, he never encountered anyone as perceptive as the tall, slender stranger.
Convinced she left the area, he positioned himself in between the two effigies facing each other, the larger showing a bird in hand. He realized he was showing off when he switched the bird figure from the right to the left hand of the larger effigy—it was a silly risk. Even though he lived several centuries, his mother still harped on him for his occasional, reckless attitude. Considering the seriousness of possibly getting caught?
He got her point.
But, no matter how he tried to conceal it, there was a part of him leaning toward frivolity and whimsy. Seelo understood why some of his people regarded him as an aberration from the expected, stolid, serious prototype of protector of the forest, as well as its inhabitants. Standing between the effigies, he needed to understand the underlying meaning of the second, smaller effigy created by the pale-skinned strangers.
Facing its larger counterpart, the wooden hands were empty. Was it a challenge to the blue skins? A signal of peace? Why didn’t they meet to either fight, or socialize? He didn’t understand it—each exhibited a propensity for complicating a simple situation. How could they develop their advanced weapons and gadgets when they couldn’t sort out the most basic position of behavior between them?
He smirked when the thought struck him as to why he referred to them as strangers—they were definitely strange. One thing he knew as he considered the intruders—things were about to come to a head. How would it turn out?
Hard to say . . .
****
Tag scouted their area the morning after the powwow. The decision was unanimous—stay put, and extend a welcoming hand to the blue ones. That day, as he widened his sweep, he discovered the wooden effigy built by the aliens—a complete surprise since the only reason he scouted that trail was to view the ambush site where Songa died. Twenty paces from her marked grave stood the roughly constructed figure.
He viewed it from all sides, deciding it resembled an art project gone wrong. After considerable consideration, he guessed it stood as a replica of a blue alien, its body language conveying peaceful intentions. To be certain, however, Tag hiked back to their camp, rounded up everyone, and all marched back for their own look-see.
They agreed. The ‘Bluies’ were reaching out.
The Travelers looked at each other. Now what?
“Why don’t we build our own wooden figure?” As usual, Claire was first with an idea. “It will acknowledge we saw the effigy, got the message, and agree with the premise of a truce . . .”
