New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Dawn on the last day came, without much brightening at all.  The sky only grew more ominous as it grew lighter, the angry red peering through the clouds upsetting the !A!amo greatly.

“If only I could see the blue sky again,” Tracker confided in him.  “I would feel much better.”

Occasionally, Brooks got errors in his system; attempts by the Craton to punch through the interference from above.  But no good signal could be found.

They calmed the !A!amo as best they could, but most important of all was to keep moving.  They’d stolen an extra few hours marching by eating on the move and resting only a few hours.  The resiliency of the !A!amo in the face of this continued to impress him.

“I would be afraid of predators,” Tracker told to Brooks in the night.  “But they, too, seem to know that things are not right.  Nothing is about.”

It was true; there were no birds singing, no animals calling.  The only sound was the wind, and when it died down, a dull, distant roar.

Fires, Brooks thought.  Fires were burning, perhaps only a few dozen kilometers away, so powerful that they were creating gusting winds.

Rain began to fall, and it was Picky Little One who noticed first.

“It burns,” she said.

Brooks held up a hand, letting a drop that made it through the canopy strike his palm.

It did sting.

Acid rain, he realized.  All of the dust being thrown up, or coming down from above, perhaps even the smoke from the fires, was reacting in the water and turning it acidic.

“It stings,” he agreed.  “But it will not hurt us.  Hold a leaf over your head,” he added kindly, plucking one such leaf and passing it to her.

The young child put it over her head, dwarfed by the huge frond.  Brooks smiled fondly to her, and she ran to the other children, who all began flitting about, gathering leaves to hand to their parents and clan-mates.

Brooks took another, and brought it over to Knows the World.  He noticed as he went that the living plants were folding their leaves to protect from the onslaught.

The wise man had been quiet since they had started their journey.  There was something in him that seemed broken by all that had occurred.  He was pressing on, but Brooks was concerned about him.

“The world is ending,” Knows the World said.  “The world is ending.”  It seemed almost a mantra to him, and Brooks could not contradict it; it was true.

“You are not going to end with it,” Brooks told him.

Knows the World smiled at him, as if he knew a secret.  “Am I not?  I know this world.  If it ends, what do I know?  What am I?”

“Alive,” Brooks told him.  “There are other worlds to know.”

Knows the World did not reply to him for a time.  But then he asked; “Are they many?  These other worlds?”

“Many,” Brooks promised him.  “Some are much like here.  Others are so strange that one can barely believe they are real.”

Knows the World nodded, taking it in.  He seemed cheered, slightly, but then said; “I fear I am too old to come to know a new world.  I have wondered if I should stay and die with my home.”

It stabbed Brooks in the heart; he cared for the old man.  Yet this sentiment was one that he had heard was common among !Xomyi who had come to understand what was happening.

Though, he did wonder just how much it could really be imparted.  They had never known another world; the universe beyond their land was alien, a complete unknown.  He could know there were other worlds, he could be shown or told of them, know that he would have a place on them.  But Brooks did not know how someone who had only known this could truly come to understand it in so short a time.

“You are still needed by your people,” Brooks told him.  “You still have purpose.  And you deserve good things, my friend.”

Knows the World was quiet again for a time.  Finally, he admitted it; “I am frightened,” he said, bemused.  “I have never been afraid like I am now.  I am afraid that tomorrow we !A!amo will all be gone, and there will be none to remember us.”  He laughed.  “But if such comes to pass, there will be no one left to know my shame.  We will be just dust.”

Brooks did not know what to say to that.  He only offered the man a comforting touch on his shoulder.

They marched on.  The hours passed, and Brooks could count the distance down, his anxiety growing the closer they came.  It was hardest just before the end.

He knew every step, the launch shuttle was there.

But he’d been wrestling with the last surprise he would have to spring on the !A!amo.

Liftoff was immensely stressful and frightening for the most prepared people.  For the !Xomyi, it would be beyond terrifying.  The weight of your own body crushing you could cause panic, and beings could easily hurt themselves or others.

The safest way for them would for them to be asleep.  It was not an option, he would have to do it.  But he did not want to hurt their trust.

“Knows the World,” he began.  They were only a kilometer out from the shuttle now.  He could catch glimpses of it through the trees.  “Once we arrive . . .”

He did not finish his sentence, as the land around them suddenly went wild.  His eyes saw it coming, through the trees, yet his mind could not make sense of it until it was upon them.

The ground was heaving.  It moved, like a liquid.

Shock caused him to blank out the first moment; he found himself thrown to the ground, a ground which was still shaking harder than anything he had ever felt.

“Impact quake!” he heard Kai yelling in his ear.  But he could barely hear the words even then.

The screams of !Xomyi, and worse, the sound of the planet itself, groaning from the tremendous energy, drowned out nearly all else.

He rolled, seeing that above his head, the tops of the massive trees were crashing into each other, knocking branches loose.  He threw up his arms, enormous limbs coming crashing down.

There was a scream from the ground below them, as a rent opened, pulling down boulders and even the towering trees.  It appeared massive, and he clawed at the ground to pull himself away before realizing it was not even that close; it was simply that big.

The ground shook more as some of the massive trees came down, but most of them remained upright, still hitting into each other and sending down showers of debris.  A piece hit his arm, the pain blinding him for a moment.

The shaking gradually subsided.  Brooks raised his head, looking around.  In the wake of the shockwave, it was nearly silent.

“Is everyone okay?” he yelled, then realized that his face mask had slipped a bit, his words untranslated.  He adjusted it and yelled again.

The !A!amo began to call out to him and each other, and he stumbled back among the group.

The ground itself felt different, like the shake-up had changed its shape.

A part of him cursed the lie of apparent stability of a planetary surface, longing for a ship where stability was a factor of design and control rather than the result of immense forces of physics.

There were a few injuries, among them his arm, which was already bruising, but did not seem to be broken.

“Kai,” he said over his radio.  It took a moment for her to reply, and her voice was crackling.

“System damaged,” she said.  “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” he said.  “Are you hurt?”

“Not hurt,” she replied.  “But have a situation here.”

Brooks looked back towards Knows the World.

“Keep going,” he told the !A!amo.  “Stop at the base of the tall white rock and wait.  I will see to the problem.”

He ran back, Kai coming from the rear to meet him.

“One of the children is missing,” Kai said quickly.  “Picky Little One.”

Brooks nodded, his mind racing.  “Go on ahead and get them to the shuttle.  I’ll help look for the girl.”

Kai went on ahead, and Brooks moved towards the rear, jumping over the scarred land.  He saw that a number of the !A!amo were already starting to spread out, searching.

“Go,” Brooks told them.  “Follow Knows the World!  I will search!”

Tracker came up to him, grabbing his leg.  “We must find her!  Gift Giver, please, call on your spirits!  You must use them to find her!”

Brooks hated to play into the supernatural, but he knew that Tracker was right.

Their drones were down to just a handful; they had to regularly recharge, and that equipment had been left behind at camp.  They’d kept a handful going at all times during the trip, just letting them fall when they ran out of power, and sending out a new set.

They were down to their last few; just a pittance of the swarm he’d had to start with.

“Do you have any idea what direction she might be?” he asked.

Tracker gestured in the negative, and Young Mother called out for him.  He ran off towards her, calling out to his daughter.  Where she had gone, trees had crashed down.

Brooks spread out the drones in a search pattern, but his stomach was clenched.  Picky Little one was so small, the drones so few, and the lay of the land complicated and changed . . .

They had only minutes of power, their sub-systems already starting to go into standby.  Each search ping was more time off their lifespan.

He went out as well, wading through the large, mushroom-like undergrowth.

“Little One!” he called, cupping his hands.  “Call out if you hear me, child!”

Her parents were likewise calling, and the three of them were spreading out wider, growing ever further from the shuttle, and hope of safety.

The drones were finding nothing, not even animals.  Everything, it seemed, was hiding in its burrow or nest.  The acidic rain still fell, but lighter than earlier, and his exposed skin felt numb where it had been landing on him.

One by one the drones were falling.  First one, then in twos.  Then in groups of three and four, until none were left.  And still nothing.

“Captain,” Kai called.  “We’re at the shuttle.”

“Is it intact?”

“It’s fine,” she said brusquely.  “The platform is built for hard jolts like that.  The ship itself takes the same stresses in liftoff and flight.  I’m just telling you that I’m going to start getting the !A!amo aboard.”

“Good,” he called back.  “Go ahead.”

“How long are you going to keep searching?” she asked.  “Our window is getting tight.”

“I don’t know,” he said.  “If you think it’s closing, leave.  Don’t wait for me.”

“That’s stupid, Captain,” Kai’s voice came back.  It was cold and clinical.  “This isn’t a time for that.  Get back here.”

He flinched, knowing she was right.  He was not thinking like an officer, and she knew better than anyone that sometimes there were unthinkable losses in response and rescue.

How could he argue?

“Five more minutes,” he said.  His voice, he realized, was plaintive.

This was a child they were looking for.

Kai had not yet responded when he heard the yell.  It was Tracker.

Brooks could not understand the words, his system did not catch them or they were not articulate enough.

He spoke again to Kai.  “I think we have her,” he said shortly.

“I’ll start boarding,” Kai said.  “Five minutes, Captain.”

He rushed towards the sound of the voice.  There were no more calls, even as he called out to his friend.  But he began to hear the keening, and he knew.

Stumbling at the sound and realization, he was drawn closer, unable to stop himself even if he had wanted to.

There.  At the base of a tree, two people were huddled over something small and unmoving.

Brooks skidded to a stop.  His legs refused to work for him for a moment, and he had to force himself to move.

“Tracker?” he said softly.  The only other noise now was the soft pitter-patter of the acid rain on the curled leaves of plants.

Tracker said nothing, but raised his head – not to look at Brooks, but to let out a long wail.  It started quietly and rose louder.  Young Mother shook with sobs.

He came closer, and saw Picky Little One, her head twisted to one side in a way that was not right.  Her bright eyes were open but looked at nothing, and everything that had been her was gone.

He looked up the tree, saw how its near side was cleared of limbs; the branches must have been broken off in the shaking and come crashing down around the child.

She must have run to the tree thinking it would be safe.  Why had she left her parent’s side?  He did not really know, and he never would.

He came closer, kneeling behind the two parents.

A counter in his HUD told him that their moments were slipping away.

“I am sorry,” he said softly.

Tracker lowered his head, his cry dying off and he too wracked with sobs.  Young Mother did not look up, her arms out, and she slowly picked up Little One, pulling her close, cradling her head as it started to fall.

“We do not have much time,” Brooks said.  “We must go.  Bring her.”

Tracker keened again, and Young Mother joined him, both of them crying out to their dying world, their world having already died.

“Please,” Brooks said.

They ignored him still, and he started to feel fear welling up inside.  Picky Little One had been the sweetest of children, and her loss was something unimaginable.  He did not want to think that he would lose Tracker, his closest friend among the !A!amo, too.

“Please,” he repeated emphatically, reaching out to touch Tracker’s arm.  “Hakki.”  The word came to him without thinking.  It was the due of their friendship that his friend be alive, wasn’t it?

The word made Tracker shiver with struggle, but it came out in a flash of fury.

Tracker lashed out at him, his flint-blade knife slashing just where Brooks’s arm had been.

It had been an uncontrolled move, but the !Xomyi caught himself, slowing his attack at the last moment – the only reason Brooks was able to pull his arm back in time.

“Go,” Tracker said, his voice heavy.  “Remember that you are my friend, Gift Giver True Striker.  But I am bound to the world, and not the sky.  Hakki.  You must let me have my sorrow.”

Young Mother was singing now, her words translated eerily in Brooks’s ears.

“Sleep now my dear child
Who never knew the taste of honey
Sleep alone in the cold ground
But know that soon I will join you.”

Brooks turned, running towards the shuttle, and heard Tracker join in, with his own verse.

“Sleep now my dear child
Your father feels only pride in you
Do not be afraid that you will be alone
Know that soon I will join you.”

Brooks ran as he fast as he could, but he could not outrace the pain in his chest.

---

< Ep 12 part 67 | Ep 12 part 69 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The piece of the moon had broken off hours ago, and they’d been tracking it as best they could.  Its orbit was decaying rapidly, bringing it down towards Ko in a spiral of death.

The moon splinter was not huge in comparison to its parent; not the massive piece, almost a quarter of Omen’s mass, that was still in the process of separating.  This piece was only ten kilometers at its widest, an oblong chunk of silicates and iron that would soon lodge itself into the planet below.  It was the tenth-such monster to break off, but it was predicted to be the first to hit.

“Models show that it will impact near the Western coast of the Western continent,” Cenz said.  “It may strike in the water or partially on land.”

“So it will be far from where Excom Urle and Captain Brooks are located,” Jaya said.

“Yes, Acting-Captain,” Cenz replied.  “It will give them a little time.”

It was bigger than the asteroid that formed the Chicxulub crater, Jaya thought.

It was an alarming prospect, to think how much damage that asteroid had caused, yet this one was only a prelude.  The only thing that might keep it from being the end of all life would be that it was moving far slower than a deep-space asteroid.

Ji-min Bin’s head shot up.  “We have a fix on a shuttle!  It’s the Executive Commander!”

A cheer went up on the bridge, and Jaya felt a little relief.  Their two senior officers were the only remaining personnel on the surface.

They should have been evacuated days ago, she thought.  But they both had called for more time.  They needed as much as possible to complete their missions, and had the rank to authorize it.

“Establishing automated contact,” Shomari Eboh called.  “The Executive Commander is all right, and he has . . . seventeen !Xomyi on board.”

Jaya hesitated, surprised.  There had been 259 !Xomyi in the group he had been sent to help.  They had been considered challenging, but not that challenging.  Why so few . . .?

She could not draw judgement until she knew the facts, and accepted the number without question.  “Very well.  If he is ready to dock, bring him in.  We will transfer his !Xomyi to the diplomatic carrier later.”

The much-more massive carrier, along with all of the other ships in their entourage, had pulled away to a safe distance already – farther out than from Earth to its moon.  Even there, they were not totally safe from flying debris once the impacts started for real.

“Piece Ten is beginning its descent,” Cenz said.

Jaya could see the projection on the screen; piece ten had hit that critical threshold of depth into the atmosphere where its course plummeted.  The atmosphere was bleeding it of energy, and now it was simply in a dive.

She watched; in only a handful of seconds, they registered its impact.

“Analyzing,” Cenz called.  “We register crust penetration . . . we don’t have a good signal.  Predicted depth is 18 kilometers with a width of 51.”

“Jesus Christ,” she heard someone mutter.

“When will this affect Brooks?” she asked.

“The shockwave will take nineteen minutes to reach his location.  It will register as a 9.5 magnitude earthquake.”

“That’s insane!” someone snapped.

“Quiet,” Jaya said sternly.

The officer looked abashed and shut up.

“With that energy, it will destroy all of our science stations, unfortunately,” Cenz said.  “We will no longer see or hear anything from ground level.”  He paused a moment, then continued.  “Ejecta will begin to fall on their position in approximately thirty minutes.  The wind blast will be noticeable, but non-damaging, at only eight meters per second.”

There was quiet again for a few long moments.  “How close are they to reaching their escape ship?”

“I do not know their exact position,” Cenz said.  “We have lost the ability to communicate with our grounded drones without the satellites.  But based on their last known position . . . I would guess that they are at least three hours from launch.”

“Will the ship survive the earthquake?”

Cenz took a moment before answering.  “The platform it is built on is extremely durable – it has to be to survive the relatively hard drop in.  But it also has to hold up to launch.  I cannot say for sure if it will survive the shockwave, or for that matter if the ground beneath it will still be intact.  If both have survived, I cannot say if the structure will survive the firing of the launcher’s thrusters – if they are damaged and buckle before the ship achieves lift-off, it could tip and explode.  And even if all of those have survived, the shuttle itself could have sustained damage and not be able to survive escape velocity.”

Jaya was quiet for a long time.

“However,” Cenz added, breaking the silence.  “I hope.”

On the screen, the ejecta from the impact was entering space, circling the planet.  The majority of it that would come down the six-thousand kilometers distance of Brooks’s position would mostly be dust.  But it could also be larger fragments that could kill.  And not long afterwards, larger fragments, heating up from their fall back through the atmosphere, would begin to warm the atmosphere itself.

There were far too many to even attempt to intercept.  And, she saw, another piece of the moon would begin its own fall in just a few short hours.

“Then let us wait,” she finally said.  “And be prepared for when his shuttle escapes the world.”

---

< Ep 12 part 66 | Ep 12 part 68 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

It was the last time she’d be looking at this water, Apollonia realized.

The waves were calmer than usual today, only reaching up about eight meters up the pylons that they still relentlessly battered.

Despite their raging, they’d never even left a mark on the pillars.  If only they could armor the whole damn world in the stuff.

She had the foresight to set up her system to record it the last few days of waves; she would have a video frame run it on a loop when she got home.

It had become comforting for her.  She hadn’t realized how many hours she’d spent out here, until Zey had commented on it.

“Huh,” Apollonia had replied.  “I guess I am out here a lot.”

Zey had gone back up to the Craton, and Apple had wished her goodbye.  It was odd, really, they’d still see each other and work together.  But back up there, it wouldn’t be as often, and it would involve a lot of other doctors and nurses.

Even Alisher had gone up already.  Jaya had spoken to Cenz, and he had allowed her to stay for the last shuttle.  It was due to leave in an hour, after all their baggage had been loaded.

Dr. Zyzus had also elected to stay.  He had not said why, but he seemed to have taken a liking to her, and she found him to be a surprisingly nice old man.

Funny, she thought.  She’d never have thought she’d come to be friends with several doctors.

He came up now, leaning against the railing.

“The porpishes are gone,” he commented, the word even funnier in his serious voice.

Apollonia felt a sense of elation that her name had caught on so well, but it was tempered by something she couldn’t name.

“I guess they sensed things are getting bad,” she said.

“Likely,” Zyzus replied.  “But there is no escape for them.  Just as there will not be for Ambassador Kell if he does not return soon.”

“He’s still not back?” Apollonia asked.

“No,” Zyzus said.  He sounded sad.

Apollonia could not feel that, not for Kell.  It was deeper than just his actions back on the Chain, months ago.  It was . . . it was some innate feeling from him that just disgusted her.

Remarkably bigoted of her, she realized.  But it was still true, and she trusted her instincts here.

“What will you do when you return to the station?” Zyzus asked her.

“Oh, uh.  I guess I’ll keep doing this,” Apollonia said.  “When I can.  I mean sometimes I have to just be up near the bridge doing CR stuff.  Like just sitting there, being spooky.”

Zyzus did not smile, but nodded, his expression still serious.  “This is valuable work,” he told her.  “But your work as a CR is not to be underestimated.  You have a gift, Ms. Nor.  One that many would wish to have.  You can help others in a wholly unique way.”

“It’s got baggage,” she said quickly.

“So does this,” Zyzus said, gesturing to their uniforms.  “I know it is not the same, not as bad.  But it still exists.  We in this field will carry memories of work – painful, both physically and mentally.  Of the suffering of our patients, who we sometimes cannot help.  And the same goes, to varying degrees, in every field of work.”

Apollonia found this a puzzling direction.  “I guess so,” she said.

“I find myself hoping,” Zyzus said, “that you will one day try to reach still higher, Apollonia Nor.  Reach into that place where so few of us can go, and find there the strength to do more than any of us can.”

She did not know what to make of his words.  She smiled slightly to him, more out of politeness than anything else, while he looked at her with meaning hidden behind his eyes.  Nodding to her, he turned and walked away.

She was still puzzling on it as she heard the klaxon call for them to prepare for boarding on the shuttle.  Not long left now.

Reluctantly, she tore her eyes from the ocean, which in a way seemed dead already, without the porpishes or anything else swimming around.

It would have been worse, she thought, if they had been down there playing happily, oblivious to the end.  At least for her; maybe they’d be better off playing and jumping up until the last moment.

She looked up, towards the distant shoreline.  The sky was dark; not from clouds, but dust, which the many smaller impacts had already stirred up.  It gave the look of a storm, and sometimes there were flashes of electrical discharges in the dirty sky.

Somewhere out that way, Captain Brooks was leading some of the aliens towards safety, she hoped.  Or even better, maybe they were already strapped into their rocket and about to blast off, to escape this place.

But she doubted that.  It was Brooks, so it’d come to the knife’s edge.

Ah, dark take it.  She just hoped he’d be all right.

Turning her back to the water and land, she started up a set of steps leading towards the shuttle.

She felt it, then; the heavy presence that gave her pause.  She looked around, and saw him, standing alone; Kell, here on the platform, looking the same as he always did.

“. . . didn’t even see him come back aboard . . .” she heard someone say.

“. . . just appeared there . . .”

Cenz went up to Kell, greeting him warmly, but Kell’s reply was curt, and Cenz walked away, his electronic face slightly disturbed.

“Call to board,” an electronic voice said.  “Call to board.  All personnel board last shuttle.”

Apollonia’s tablet dinged insistently.  Everyone’s system was prompting them, and she felt a little surge of fear, imagining being left behind.

She thought again of Brooks, but in a fit of fear for him actually being in that situation, she could not make herself look back.

Kell boarded first, she saw.  The rest of them queued up, and she took her place in line, feeling a mix of apprehension and guilt.

All this time, this moment had felt so far away.  Now it was here, and she had thought she would feel sad, maybe even glad to be returning to the safety and comfort of the Craton.

But she only felt scared.

How might Brooks and the !Xomyi be feeling?  What about the ones who had refused the offer of help, or never even had a chance to be contacted?

Her head was dizzy as she boarded, strapping herself in.

Cenz was the last to come aboard.  “All personnel accounted for,” the system said.

“Let us go,” he said, his voice heavy.

---

< Ep 12 part 64 | Ep 12 part 66 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

They walked for twenty minutes.

Knows the World did not speak to Brooks as they moved.  He simply led the way through the forest.  At times, he stopped to listen to a sound or movement in the underbrush, but then continued on.

The jungle seemed to be thinner here, with more ability to see.  Occasionally through the trees they could see the tower-like legs of some of the largest of the jungle’s occupants, but the massive herbivores did not notice the two fleas near them.

They came to a clearing.  It was being lost to the jungle, but at one time he could tell that something had taken all of the trees down.  A few new ones were growing, but they were a fraction of the height of the trees around them.

In the middle of the clearing was a single boulder.  It was thin, pointing like a blunt blade into the sky.

As they came closer, Brooks realized that it was not a simple boulder; it was a standing stone.  Beings with intent had placed the stone here, and upon its surface they had carved images.

Time and moss hid many of them.  Knows the World came up, wiping away moss and soil from one area, and turned back to Brooks.

“As our people have moved, we have come closer to this place,” he said.  “I knew it was not an accident that you came to us then.”

Brooks felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.  He came closer to look at the stone.

He could see carvings of animals on it.  Some he recognized, but others he did not know.  They were arranged in a clear pattern.

“What does this mean?” he asked.

“Long, long ago,” Knows the World said.  “White serpents fell from the sky.  They punished this world because the spirits had grown tired.  They could not hold back the monsters of the stars.”

Brooks looked up, his mouth dropping open slightly in surprise.  But Knows the World continued.

“Our people barely survived.  Every one of our wisest people have passed down this story.  We share it with no other.  But we know that one day the stars will fall again.  Look, and you will see that they have fallen before.”

Brooks studied the images, and suddenly it clicked.

Tracker had told him of their astrological signs; patterns in the stars that they interpreted as symbols.  They told the seasons, they told the time of night, and . . . they could tell the year.

He brought up in his system and projected the night sky over the obelisk.  Moving it, he saw that they did not quite match up – but it was very close.

“Adjust by known star movements over time and go backwards in increments of 100 years,” he said.

It was a tall request for his system, but after a few moments the sky began to rearrange itself, mimicking the movements the stars would have taken over time.

And when he was around fifteen hundred years in the past, it matched up with the obelisk.

“It has been a long time,” he said to Knows the World, awe in his voice.  That this had been passed down through legends over all this time . . .

“And the spirits have come again,” the wise man said, nodding to him solemnly.  He regarded the stone solemnly.  “I recall,” he said slowly.  “When I was young.  The Sky Child was smaller, then.  It had not changed for many, many years.  As far back as we could recall.  But then it began to grow.”

He pointed to the image of a hamomo.  “I know, because it did not used to hide the hamomo at this time of year.  It ran free – now, it is crushed and hidden by the Sky Child at all times.  In the past the Child moved across the sky.  But now . . . it is simply there, always.  Crushing the hamomo, and soon to crush us all.”

He looked up to Brooks, and for the first time he saw the fear openly.  But behind it, also hope.

“What can you do to save us, Gift Giver, True Striker?”

---

“You must listen to me carefully, we do not have long,” Brooks said.

The twenty-five members of the !A!amo tribe had gathered before him.  Knows the World had spoken already to Cool River and Old Hunter.  The latter retained some doubts, but had said he would not oppose them.  Cool River had quickly come to agree with Knows the World and Brooks – she, too, remembered the old stories and had seen the standing stone.

They had gathered the men, women, and even the children.  Brooks had been unsure if the latter should be here, as he did not want to scare them.

But it was a terrifying situation.  And they, too, were involved.

Knows the World and Cool River had not even considered leaving them out, and he had let it be.

Now, their eyes were upon him.

“The Sky Child is falling,” he said.  “And when it lands, it will destroy the world in fire.”

Gasps and fear spread into their eyes; they believed him, doubt did not enter their minds.

He continued.  “It is terrifying, yes.  I, too, am frightened.  Not just for myself, but for you – my friends.”  He gestured from himself to them.

“There is a way we can help you,” Kai said.  “We know of a place where you will be safe.”

“Where is it?” Tracker asked cautiously.

Brooks said nothing.  He simply pointed up.

Tracker’s eyes gazed upwards, widened.  He snapped back down to Brooks.

“Into the realm of spirits?”

“There are no spirits in the heavens,” Brooks told him.  “At least not that I have seen.  But there are more people like us.”  He gestured to Kai and himself.  “Many of us.  We all came here to save your people.”

“But why?” Old Hunter asked suddenly, his doubts manifesting.  “I believe in you, True Striker.  Do not misunderstand me.  But if there are many of you – why do they care about !A!amo?  They have not hunted with us.  They have not bled with us.”

Brooks opened his arms towards the heavens again.  “If you look up, you do not see !A!amo.  You do not see any !Xomyi, or even my people.  That is because it is a vast emptiness.  Emptier than air itself.  There are so very, very few of us.  We feel . . . alone.  Like we are stranded in the deepest jungle with fears of predators all around.”

He lowered his hands and his eyes.  “But then we find each other.”

A moment later, he found himself able to continue.  “And when we do not feel as alone, we realize the heavens are not as frightening as they were a moment before.”

Old hunter looked down, nodding slightly.  He said nothing.

Kai stepped forward.  “You do not need to bring much – only those things you cannot live without.  We have food for your stomachs and beds for you to sleep in.  The most important thing is simply yourselves.”  She looked across the group.  “Do you understand?”

There was a scattering of assent, and Brooks spoke again.  “I must know that you all understand.  That you are all willing to come, because once the moon falls there will be nothing to return to.  I will not try to force anyone to come who does not want to.  But if you have second thoughts, please talk to me.”

No one said anything, and Kai took over.

“We must walk for two days,” she said.  “We will only rest as long as we must.  Every moment is important.  You will see things and go places you have never seen before.  Do not be afraid – we will be with you every step of the way.”

“I promise,” Brooks said.  “I will do everything I can to protect you.”

“You say it,” Tracker replied.  “And I believe you, True Striker.”

---

< Ep 12 part 63 | Ep 12 part 65 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Brooks awoke with sunlight filtering down upon him.

Attempting to move was a mistake; nausea washed over him, and his entire body hurt.

“You are fortunate to be alive,” he heard Dr. Y’s voice say.  “You have largely metabolized the drug, but you did take in enough to leave you with an effect much like a hangover.  I do not have the treatment here to alleviate it.”

Brooks forced himself to sit up.  He was in the !Xomyi camp, but no one was around.

“I am watching you while Commander Kai Yong Fan consults with the Craton,” Y told him.

He was laying on a layer of reeds, and on the edge he saw a bowl.

“Water?” he croaked.

“It is,” the Y-drone told him.  “It is even free of parasites.”

Brooks took up the clay bowl and drank the water greedily, some running around the edges and down his chin.  It was not dignified, but he couldn’t control his hands that well yet.

“What happened?” he asked, after finishing the water.  His words were a little stronger.

“After your . . . adventure, you passed out on the way back, and were carried here by the !Xomyi.  It seems that they have a great respect for you, and felt that you were overcome by a ‘spirit of the dead’.”

Hard Biter, Brooks thought.  For a moment he wondered if there was something to the idea; he certainly had behaved more like that warrior-hunter than himself last night.

“Was that just last night?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Y told him.  “Once the !Xomyi returned you here, they informed the Commander.  Which is quite fortunate, as with your torn coolsuit you would have died in the heat of the day.”

He could see that Kai had stuffed him into one of his backup suits.  He was fortunate, he thought.  On many levels.

He carefully examined his body, finding bruises, cuts, scratches.  Many had been cleaned and closed by Y.

His feet were a mess, from running barefoot.

And he had killed the keko!un, he remembered.

“Everyone made it back all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Y told him.  “Now, Captain, while I can certainly multi-task, I must be leaving.”  He paused.  “And I must inform you that the timeline has been shortened.  The moon Omen is beginning to break up slightly faster than expected.  All teams must leave this world within four days.”

“Four days?” Brooks said.  “That’s not very long.”

Y paused again.  “If you are going to make your move to convince these people to leave, you must do it soon.  I do hope that you have some idea of how to convince them.”

Brooks said nothing, and Y winked out of the drone.

Four days.  That was all.

---

It took him a little bit to stretch out and get moving again.  The !A!amo seemed pleased to see him, and they came over, all reaching out to touch him.  Fast of Wing stopped in front of him, taking both of his hands.  He was overcome with emotion, and that said it all.

Brooks put a hand on his shoulder, smiling.

“My father rests now,” he finally said.

And had shed his name, Brooks knew.  He was simply ‘Father of Fast of Wing’ if ever he needed to be referred to, and he was living on the moon, the Sky Child.

That same Sky Child who would kill them all, he thought.

“I must speak to Knows the World,” he said.  “Where is he?”

Tracker directed him; the wise man was not far, but was keeping aloof of the greeting the men were giving him.

Brooks headed over to where Knows the Word was.

Where he was waiting, Brooks thought.  He knows.

He could not know the whole of the truth, of course, but he could tell the shaman had an inkling, an idea that Brooks was here for more important reasons than any he had given so far.

He came up next to the old !Xomyi.  Knows the World’s ears twitched towards him, but he did not turn.  Brooks waited for him to signal that they could speak.

“Some of the women have expressed an interest in marrying you,” the wise man said.  He looked slyly amused.

Brooks smiled.  “I am honored.  However, I did not come here seeking a wife.”

The smile faded from Knows the World’s face.  “Then why did you come here, True Striker?”

“Is that who I am now?” Brooks could not help but say.  It gave Knows the World the chance to change the topic, he knew.  But he felt he must offer that chance.

But Knows the World was wise.  He only waited, watching Brooks.

“I have come to save your people,” Brooks said.  He turned, pointing to the sky.  “I speak the truth when I say I have come from the sky.  My land is far from here; we sailed through the sky to come here.  And when we arrived, we saw something terrible.”

He took a breath, watching Knows the World, but the wise man was still listening; still receptive.

“The Sky Child is falling,” he said.  “Just as a spear thrown into the air must come down, it is falling.  When it lands, it will kill all of you.  It will kill everything.”

He gestured around, to the trees, to the soil.  “Nothing will be spared.”

He could see the fear growing on Knows the World’s face.  He was deep in thought, but under that outer layer the fear was all-encompassing.

“I must show you something,” Knows the World said.  He turned, and started walking into the jungle.

Brooks hesitated, looking back, but the others had not noticed them.

He signalled Kai that he was stepping out, and followed the elder.

---

< Ep 12 part 62 | Ep 12 part 64 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Over sixty !Xomyi were crowded into the longhouse as evening fell.

The sky had begun to turn a strange shade; a red deeper than anything anyone had ever seen.  Over the backdrop of crimson, white streaks appeared regularly.

The Hessa referred to them as sky serpents.  But Urle knew they were ever-bigger chunks of the moon, coming down into the atmosphere.

The red was not just from the falling objects.  Urle had gotten the reports from more westward teams that falling meteors had started massive fires.  They were hundreds of kilometers away, but their glow was so bright that it bled into the sky.

The changes had brought fear and unrest to the village, and Hornblower had called for a meeting.

Urle had to push to make his way in.  The Hessa made some way for him, a few looking at him with awe or fear.

Since the day of the animal attack, the Hessa had viewed him in contradictory ways.  At first, fear; his Thunder Tool had struck down the beasts, they had said.

He had explained to them that it was a weapon; not magic, but technology.  But these were people who had not even begun hammering soft metals into pleasing shapes.  Their language did not have words for such things that did not invoke magic or spirits.

His attempt to downplay it had backfired.  Some began to doubt the events.  Other rumors had started that suggested that he had even summoned the beasts.

It made no sense, but a rumor was not something that he could confront and disprove.

Most disturbingly of all, he suspected the source to be Hornblower himself.

The man had become belligerent since the incident.  He glared openly at Urle, and refused to speak with him.  When Urle tried, he would simply turn his back to him – an act that had shocked those watching.

His acts were intended to bring shame to Urle, apparently.  He openly blamed Urle for not saving the woman, who was one of his sisters.

“For all your magic, you could not save her life!” he had yelled in the first hours afterwards.

Urle had a feeling that the reasons went deeper than family loss, however.

There was a jealousy in the man.  It was actually somewhat obvious in his behavior and mannerisms.

Hornblower spoke over others talking in praise of what Urle had done, extolling his own virtues.  He had begun to speak up his own abilities, approaching absurdity.

Were the tools of deception something that developed with an advancement of society?  Urle had not considered it inversely before, that a less-developed society might, in some ways, be less refined at lying and detecting lies.  But people still took Hornblower seriously, and besides his main task he’d begun doing more.

Concentrating more power in reaction to a perceived threat, Urle saw.  Things were spinning out of control.  The fear and uncertainty abetted it.

Pushing into the long house far enough that he could see Hornblower, standing on top of a log stump.

“The skies cry red!” one farmer, a man Urle knew as Tu!uk, cried.  “What does it mean?”

“We need the wisdom of Ukn!aa!” a woman cried.

“We do not need the spirits!” Hornblower called.  “We are safe and we are strong.  We are tested, but we are safe!”

“Safe?” another voice called.  “The stories speak of death from the sky, that the sky was like this-“

“Enough!” Hornblower cried, raising his hands, his wing membranes flaring out.  It was a universal sign of rage, ready to rain blows from above.  “I have heard enough of spirits and legends!  We do not live in legends!”

“But we cannot deny the stories!”

Hornblower pointed towards the speaker.  “The next to speak of spirits, I will beat him myself!  Your cowardice invites disaster.”

“I agree,” Urle said.

Many eyes came to him, shocked.

“You?” Hornblower said.  “Purveyor of spirits and lies?  You do not-“

“I have lived among you for months,” Urle said.  “I have shared in your burdens, your labor – your dangers.”

He saw receptiveness in the faces of the Hessa, their large eyes all fixed on him.

Hornblower reluctantly let his words fade.

Urle did not want to challenge or depose him; that was not his job, nor would it help.

“There is great danger coming,” he continued, turning to meet the eyes of as many people as he could.  “That is why I am here-“

“He admits it!” Hornblower cried.  “He admits that he brings disaster to us!”

Cries of alarm rose from the crowd, and Urle raised his voice.  “No, that’s not what I mean!  I am here to help!”

“You speak lies!” Hornblower crowed.

“I am your only hope of survival!” Urle yelled.  “The moon is going to fall and you will all die.”

The yells and shouts fell to silence.

“Surely those of you who are older remember that it used to be smaller in the sky?” Urle said.  “It has been growing, hasn’t it?  Covering more stars.  And it used to move.  It is now still because it is so close that it’s tidally locked and will soon break apart.”

He’d gotten too technical; there was confusion on some faces, the Hessa language lacking the words to impart his meaning.

“I can help,” he said.  “You’ll need to come with me – I have a . . . a way to take us away from here.  I promise you that you will be safe.  Together, you can rebuild in a new home.”

His words were not right; speaking of a new home did not mark well in their minds, and he saw some of their gazes turn . . . if not hostile to him, at least disinterested in his ideas.

“There is little time,” he pressed on.  “We have only days left.  We must leave at first light tomorrow if we are to survive.”

More fear in the crowd.

“Why does the moon fall?  What have we done wrong?” one voice cried out.

“There’s no fault in anyone,” Urle said.  “It is just a natural process-“

“Liar!” Hornblower yelled.  “Don’t you see, my friends?  He is a liar!  He is the source of our problems!  Ever since he has come, we have seen our lives grow worse!  And now – now this outsider stranger claims that he can save us from the troubles he brings with him!”

“Please, I only wish to help,” Urle said, feeling his chance slipping away.

He could not win this by just appeals; he needed someone on his side, someone whose words carried weight equal to Hornblower’s.

Looking around, desperately, he wondered; where was the wise woman Ukn!aa?

He did not see her in the longhouse, which was very strange.  People were asking for her guidance.

He pushed out, and Hornblower yelled out that he was fleeing.

Urle slowed his movements, turning to look at him.  “We should hear what Ukn!aa has to say, Hornblower.”

The man shut up, glaring, and Urle went outside, looking.

There she was; her daughters around her, standing thirty paces from the longhouse, watching.

“Ukn!aa,” he called.  “Your counsel is wanted.”

He went over to her.  Her daughters were watching him with some hostility, but Ukn!aa’s expression was unreadable.  Others were watching them curiously, and he lowered his voice.

“You must have heard what was being shouted,” he said.  “You know I am a friend to your people.  You’ve seen it.  Please help me convince them.  I do not want your people to die.”

Ukn!aa watched him silently for a moment, then began to walk forward, into the longhouse.

“Ukn!aa has come!” someone called.  “Ukn!aa will see through lies!”

Urle waited on bated breath as the woman made her way into the longhouse.

She did not go all the way in before stopping, surrounded by her people.

“I have listened,” she said.  “I have consulted the spirits.”

The voices of the people in the longhouse fell silent.  Urle could hear his own breathing as the woman let the moment hang.

She’s reveling in this, Urle realized.  This power.

Like Hornblower.

He met her eyes; she shied away.  He saw that Hornblower was looking at her expectantly.

“The Stranger . . . he is a spirit who lies,” she said.

Gasps went through the tent, and eyes went to Urle with anger in them.

“Be not angry!” she called, but her words were falling on deaf ears.  “He does not mean to lie, he is a spirit that helps but also lies.”

“This land is failing you!” Urle said.  “You told me that you’ve seen things changing.  You can see the sky outside!  I am offering a way out!”

Some still heard him, still listened.  He saw the fear in them; but at least a little willingness to hear him out.  But they still looked to Ukn!aa, who he saw was looking at Hornblower.

They must have planned this, Urle thought.  From Ukn!aa’s closed expression, he did not believe that she was the force behind it, or at least was not as committed as Hornblower.  But she had sided with him in a power struggle that only they could see.

“The seasons change,” Ukn!aa said.  “The land grows less abundant, and the skies stain red.  But our people have seen these signs before!”   Her voice was rising to a crescendo.  “And we have survived!  Our land is bountiful!  It teems with life, and we shall endure.  Our land has kept us healthy for as long as we have existed, and we shall not abandon it!”

She seemed caught up in herself now.  She pointed to him.  “Leave now, spirit.  Do not come to us again.  I banish you!”

Her voice reached fever pitch, as if she had expected some kind of dramatic flash and for Urle to disappear.

But he only stood, quiet.  And then he nodded.

“I will leave because you ask.  I am not a spirit; I never was, and I never claimed to be.  I am only a man,” he said, his system turning the term into their equivalent.  “And I came only to help.  I just wish that you had let me.”

He turned, walking towards the door.

His knees were weak.  These people were all going to die.  It could be avoided so easily.  Yet they would not let him help them.

He could order in the drones to knock them out, take them all.  But running simulations, he realized that he did not have time.  There were only days left, and he’d need lifter drones to carry them to the ship, which was at least a day’s walk from here.

No, they had sealed their fate.

He had sealed their fate by his failure.

Stepping out, he sagged, leaning against the wall of a hut.

There was a group of Hessa approaching him from behind.  Come to attack him?  To make sure he left?

He turned, and saw the farmers Tu!uk and !Aveb.  They were gazing at him in fear.

“We believe you, spirit,” Tu!uk said.  “I was there the day when you saved us from the hunting animals.”

Urle felt his knees almost give way.  “You want to come with me?” he asked.

“Yes!” !Aveb said.  “We are not the only ones.  We will listen to you, Spirit Stranger.  Please . . . do not abandon us.”

Urle rose to his full height.  “I won’t abandon you,” he said.

---

< Ep 12 part 61 | Ep 12 part 63 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Apollonia stepped out of the room into the night air.

The winds were high, as normal, but she’d tied her hair back into a ponytail hours ago – it was the only way to keep it out of her face when she was busy working.

Maybe I should just cut it off, she thought.  Some kind of short tomboyish ‘do would look okay on her.  But it might also draw attention to the bags under her eyes.

Her shins ached, and she got out a pain relief pack, squeezing the gel drop into her mouth.

It worked fast, and the headache that had nagged her for the last few hours began to dissipate as the painkiller was absorbed in her mouth.

She’d been on her feet eleven hours now.  There were just days left until the deadline, and things were going to shit already.

They had six people in the infirmary from different groups.  Apparently a few people had gotten a bit too heated in trying to convince the !Xomyi to leave and had gotten hurt.  Or at least that was what she had gathered.

She had been surprised, but it sort of made sense.  Telling people that they were doomed unless they came with you tended to raise the heart rate.

Hopefully Brooks was all right.

There were a handful of people down the walkway about twenty feet, and she glanced down at them.  They had the black stripes of Engineering, and as she watched, one headed down the path in her direction.

She turned, looking back out at the water.  The roll of the waves was hypnotic, but the lighting was such that it was hard to see anything in the water; just a black rolling blanket with white fuzz that grew and disappeared on it.

Kinda like mold, she thought.

Someone stepped up next to her.  She was startled, but realized it was one of the gaggle of Engineers.  She had thought the man was just going to head around her, not stop to talk.

“I wanted to say thanks,” the man said.

Her tiredness caused the simple words to make no sense.  She had no idea who this was, or why they would be thanking her.

“I’m, ah, Zef,” he said.  “Zef Skuqi.”

Apollonia continued to stare for a few moments, knowing it was rude, but her mind was refusing to function.  Then, at once, she remembered.

“Oh, the guy who breathed in the mushrooms!” she said, snapping her finger.

“Hah, yeah,” the man said, grinning self-consciously.

She remembered then that he had come up to thank her.  “Oh, uh . . . you’re welcome.  I mean, I just did the job.  You needed help, so I did it.”

“It was a lot of help,” he admitted.

“You were always so calm,” she noted.  “I was just glad I didn’t make you nervous.  I mean, I was kinda new at it . . .  I just did my best.”

“I could tell,” Zef said.  “That you did your best, I mean.”

She paused.  “You never even looked worried.  I feel like I would have been freaking out if I had been as helpless as . . .”  She trailed off, regretting her wording.

The man did not seem bothered, though.  “Well, I knew I was going to be okay.  I didn’t like being helpless, but I didn’t have anything else to worry about.”

Apollonia tried to dissect that for a few moments.  It was . . . an odd statement, really, one that she could not unpack right now.

Her mischievous self surged up.  “Okay, the most important question,” she said, conspiratorially.

Zef leaned in closer, his confusion clear.

“Did the mushroom really make a big fart noise when you fell on it?”

The man burst out laughing.

---

< Ep 12 part 59 | Ep 12 part 61 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

His feet slapped against the boulder as he clambered up it.

The drums still beat.

Badum-badum-badum.

Were they only in his head?  Was it just his heartbeat, thudding in his chest?

His chest burned with each breath, and he remembered suddenly that he’d been running.

Looking down at himself, he saw that he’d torn off his coolsuit – or most of it, at least.  He still wore the bottom half, which was still working.

His upper body was covered in perspiration, it poured from his brow.  But his system told him that the temperature and humidity in the night were . . . well, tolerable.

He saw red on his chest, fearing for a moment he was injured and did not even know it.  But no, it was not blood, but red ochre.  Looking at himself, he saw that he had painted himself.

It was not the crude pictographs that he’d used before.  These were new . . .  And while he could not even understand all that he had put on himself, it felt right; it felt like something true to himself.

The sounds of the !Xomyi, scrambling through the undergrowth, reached him.  He had left them behind . . .  Yes, because he’d been running as fast as his legs could take him.  Fast of Wing, the only one who could stay ahead of him, was guiding the way.

He started off again, following the flash of white.  Leading them, Fast of Wing had put white marks on his back that he could see in the dark.

His toes- his feet bare, he realized, he’d shed his moccasins – gripped the smooth rock, and he climbed up it, leaping off to a log, then down to the ground.

The drums kept pounding in his ears.

Badum-badum-badum.

His companions were no longer the alien !Xomyi.  In the dark, he could only see their shapes, and they were human men, like himself.

He was a human when the world felt young, from a time when man was still just an animal who lived at the whim of a world that held no love for any of her children.

And he was here . . .  he was here to kill the beast that hunted them.

He wanted to whoop, to cry out like an animal, but he knew he must stay quiet.  He clambered over rocks, ducked under branches, his feet finding his way through leaves and underbrush, leaving – at least he thought – no trace of his passing.

Might I be the loudest thing in this jungle?  He might be.  Part of him knew he could only keep up with his compatriots because of the enhancements made to his muscles that made them stronger than any ancient human.

That part of his conscious brain still existed, but only as an onlooker, commenting to his mind that seemed possessed by some ancient self.

It was not real, he told himself.  But it felt real.  He felt like he could imagine how it must have been to be a man in such a time.

The world held endless bounty, endless possibilities, endless dangers and fears.

He clutched his spear.  The obsidian head glinted in hints of moonlight from Omen above.  Anything that he met would die on its point.

Fast of Wing let out a cry, a bird whistle.  He knew without knowing how that it meant they had reached their place.  He came to a stop, ducking low.

The other !A!amo came up, forming around him.  They watched him with eyes of awe; but in another moment that changed entirely, and he was simply one of them; they were men like he, but truly men of the past.  They accepted him.

Which was the truth, he did not know.  Both, perhaps.  At the same time.

Fast of Wing spoke quietly.

“It sleeps within.  I will wait here.  Aim true, Gift Giver.”

The cave was merely a crevice between two rocks.  It gaped, a dark abyss that could mean his death.

It did not even occur to him to draw his sidearm.  He held his spear ready, and approached the gap.  He did not know if something might come out at him.

Nothing was there.  His enhanced eyes could scan the darkness, and saw no shapes, only the gaping darkness.  The hole was big enough that he could almost crouch-walk in.

Getting on his belly, he slid in carefully.  The others of his tribe came in with him, all quietly.

Was he being quiet enough?   He could not tell over the endless drum beat that continued in his ears.

Badum-badum-badum.

The crevice led to a larger cave than he expected.  It widened out, and he rose to his feet, walking across rough ground.

His feet touched something long and hard, and he looked down, in the gloom barely able to see that it was a bone.

It was not from a !Xomyi, it was too large.  But in his state of mind, he took it for human.

His heart was now beating hard in his chest, with the drumbeat, building upon it, their mix becoming one.

The !Xomyi of his tribe were behind him, moving stealthily.  In its sleep, the keko!un was less aware, but it could still wake up.  And even half-asleep, in this confined space, they’d be dead.

There!  The cave narrowed, winding to the side, but he could tell it was in there.  It had to be, it was the place that made the most sense.  His senses were attuned, he could imagine himself in the skin of the animal, thinking how it thought.

He crept forward, his heart and the drums in perfect synchrony in his head.

Badum-badum-badum.

It was there.  Curled up, its back towards him.  If it awoke and unfolded, it would be looking right at him.  It would take him in its jaws, as it had taken Hard Biter, and he’d be done.

The !Xomyi were behind him.  He could feel their apprehension, their excitement.

The part of him that could still think cried out for him to pause.

This was just an animal.  It was asleep.  There was no rightness in this, there was no justice, who even knew if it was the one that had killed Hard Biter?  It wasn’t even brave.

But the part of him that beat in time with the drum knew differently.

There was no rightness.  There was no justness.  There was survival.  This creature, all of them, would be dead soon.

But this one could still strike them, could still kill, in the time that was still left.

He remembered the fangs of the keko!un puncturing Hard Biter’s face, into his eye sockets, how the warrior had died in such an awful way in a moment of triumph.  He thought of the children, who would have died from a fever, no matter that they were innocent and had so much life ahead of them.

There was only survival.

All of his body was one unit, he felt his muscles tense, and with one sinuous movement he lunged.

The keko!un stirred, hearing his feet slap on the rocks.

It turned just enough to present a target.

His spear bit into it just behind the skull, driving into it, cutting its spine, and continuing on.

He struck true, and the keko!un died without even a sound.

---

< Ep 12 part 58 | Ep 12 part 60 >