Transient Echoes (15 page)

A small light appeared far in the distance. It moved along the hallway walls, bouncing and flickering while drawing closer to his room. “Who’s there?” he asked as the figure approached the archway.

The light bent and reflected off its wielder’s face, revealing the curves of a woman. She appeared to be bald.

“Where am I?” asked Terry.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she took a piece of dripping wet cloth from under Terry’s bed and dabbed his forehead. She worked her way along his neck and pulled the blanket down. There was a bandage covering the wound, which she avoided with the cloth, wiping the skin around it and returning the blanket to where it was before. She avoided looking at him, so he stared at her scalp. To his surprise, there were markings all over—tattoos by the look of them. None of the men had anything remotely similar, nor were any of them bald, so why this woman? Was it customary for the females of this world to shave their heads and wear such elaborate markings? The more he learned about these people, the stranger they seemed.

Once the woman finished cleaning him, she grabbed the small pail from under his bed and left him alone. Terry watched her go, not knowing what to say. He had to find a way to communicate with her, with all of them.

He closed his eyes, inviting sleep. It was the first time he’d been in a bed in three years. He might as well enjoy the experience while it lasted.

******

Unknown

April 26, 2350

Terry slept late into the morning. The light from the open window struck him hard as he opened his eyes. He squinted and flinched, turning on his side toward the wall next to the bed. He could hear what sounded like dishes clanking in the room down the hall, and amid the noise, a man’s voice speaking nonsense.

He planted his feet on the floor. He expected his chest to hurt from the wound when he moved, but nothing happened. Not even numbness from the medicine. When he touched the bandage around his wound, he felt it. Only the pain was gone. Remarkable.

He already knew his body could heal rather quickly, but it usually took a few days, and the pain always lingered for a while. A wound this size never healed overnight. Whatever the Man in Red had given him must have really done the trick. What else could it have been?

A burly laugh filled the hall and echoed into Terry’s room, followed shortly by the stomping of someone coming his way. He watched the archway as the Man in Red popped his head through the gap and gasped delightfully upon seeing him. “Obovi!” shouted the stranger, chuckling. “Obovi oc norc!”

Terry stared blankly, saying nothing. Didn’t he realize Terry couldn’t understand him?

The man pulled the stool close to the bed and plopped down, sending a loud thud throughout the house. “Bfa?” He pointed at Terry.

“Bfa?”

The man slapped his chest. “Ludo.”

“What?”

“Lu-do!” he bellowed, hitting himself a second time. “Ju loji er Ludo.” He grinned.

Terry paused. “Is Ludo your name?” He pointed to him. “Ludo?”

The Man in Red chuckled and smacked his chest three times.

Okay, so your name is Ludo.
Terry pointed at his own face. “Terry.”

Ludo repeated the word slowly under his breath with a thoughtful expression. “Terr-ee. Terr-ee. Terry.”

Terry stared at Ludo with disbelief. Was this really how first contact with alien life was supposed to happen? He had watched a few science fiction vids as a kid—leftover films from before the Jolt. Some dealt with close encounters, space exploration, making first contact. They made it seem so calculated and methodical, like there was some sort of guidebook for situations like this. Most of them ended with a massive intergalactic war, but a few never made it so far.

“Terry Terry Terry,” said Ludo. He laughed and smacked his chest again.

“You got it,” said Terry, knowing his words meant nothing.

“Terry,” said Ludo. He motioned behind him to the hall. “Hannab.”

“Hannab?” asked Terry.

“Terry hannab Ludo.” He stood and faced the door, took three steps, and returned to his original position. “Terry hannab Ludo.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“Hannab,” said Ludo, rather insistently.

“Okay,” said Terry.

Despite not knowing English, Ludo seemed to understand. He led Terry through the hall, passing four other rooms along the way, each with an open doorway. Two of them appeared to be bedrooms—each with a bed, chest, and several mats on the floor. The second bedroom was smaller than the first with a handful of blocks scattered at the base of a much smaller bed.

The third room contained assorted chests. A table stood nearby holding several tools. A few of them had metal tips, but didn’t look like weapons. Were they for farming?

In the fourth section, Terry saw a large stone with fire in it, crackling and wheezing behind a thin grate. A boy stood nearby, the same one Terry had seen playing outside before the attack. Next to him, some raised slabs held a variety of plants. The child was smashing one of them with a stone. He looked at Terry for a moment, smiled, and quickly returned to his work.

Ludo brought Terry to the largest room in the house: the foyer. It was similar in design to the other domes he’d explored, but while the others had couches, chairs, tables, and even decorative art, this one only had cushions, rugs, and a small fire pit in the center.

A few meters from the dome’s entrance, the woman stood watching them. She had blue eyes and a small nose, with an almost regal composure. She wore a red gown with blue patterns on it, and a metallic headdress which kept her bald head and strange tattoos completely hidden.

Ludo looked at the woman and his voice went surprisingly soft. “Jou bi ioc?” he said to her.

She nodded.

Ludo smiled and went to the fire pit and sat on the rug next to it, motioning to the other side. “Rec,” he said.

Terry joined him on the floor. “Does rec mean sit?” he asked.

Ludo grinned. He retrieved the lid of the metal pot and took a large spoonful of the brown liquid inside, pouring it into a bowl and handing it to Terry. He then took a second one and drank from it, letting out a whoop of satisfaction as he smacked his lips.

Terry took the hint and drank from the bowl. It tasted surprisingly similar to eggs with a hint of sweetness—something like apples, perhaps. He wasn’t sure.

He lowered the bowl from his face and smiled politely at Ludo. “Thank you,” he told him. He drank the rest of the soup, trying not to gulp it down too quickly.

When they were finished, Ludo put the bowl to his side. “Talo!” he yelled.

Terry stiffened at the sudden call, but before he could respond the small boy appeared from behind the back wall. He approached Ludo with his arms extended and his hands flat. In both of his little palms he held a rather large knife. The hilt had several glyphs carved into it, while the blade was littered with specks of glistening stones of various colors.

Ludo took the knife, which looked rather small in his own hand, and showed it to Terry. “Rotsiq,” he said in a low, almost respectful voice.

“Rot-siq,” muttered Terry.

Ludo handed the knife to the boy and touched his forehead. The child smacked his chest and retreated from the room, passing the woman with the blue eyes as he opened the door and disappeared.

Terry watched as his new friend poured a second bowl of soup for each of them. They drank it together, and this time Terry had no problem drinking slowly. His belly was filling with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. When was the last time he’d had soup? The academy? He could no longer remember.

Ludo’s presumed wife left through the door where the boy had disappeared and closed it behind her, saying nothing. Terry wondered if she disapproved of his presence. Was she angry at him for coming into her home
? Or was it customary in this society for wives to ignore guests? And what was the deal with the kid and the weird knife? Who were these people and why were they sitting in the middle of nowhere? Terry wished he could speak this stupid language so he could figure out what the hell was going on.

Ludo got to his feet and motioned for Terry to stand. “Hannab,” he told him.
Follow.

He did, and Ludo led him outside. The suns had begun their descent, hovering above the horizon. Ludo led Terry around the side of the house to the edge of one of the fields. The plants reminded him of corn stalks because of how tall they were, but the resemblance ended there. They were blue and contained pieces of red vegetables, though of course he had no idea if they were really vegetables, fruit, or something else altogether. For all he knew, the red things were poison and the only edible part of the plant was the root.

Ludo grabbed a cloth sack near the base of one of the stalks and handed it to Terry. “Fanq,” he told him.

Terry looked at the bag, confused.

Ludo grabbed one of the red vegetables from its stem and placed it in Terry’s bag. “Fanq,” he repeated.

“Okay,” he said. “Holp.”

Ludo took another sack and began filling it with the red vegetables.

Terry did the same. It seemed he’d have to earn his keep here. Not that he minded. It had been a long time since he had the chance to work with someone else. Besides, the bed was nice and the food had been better than raw fruit. He would help however he could.

He took one of the red things and placed it in his bag. He wondered how long he’d be here with these people. Probably no more than a day or two. They didn’t know anything about him, and it wasn’t like they could communicate properly. If this place proved to be safe, maybe he could set up a camp nearby. He’d have to scout around, make sure he didn’t pick an exposed area. He had to be able to run if things went bad.

Terry looked at Ludo, who was nibbling on one of the plants. He might be able to make this work after all.

******

Ortego Reconstruction Outpost

April 26, 2350

Mei waited patiently for Bartholomew and John to hoist the Fever Killer into place. Tabata, Zoe, and Sophie were all standing nearby, watching in silence. Poor Bart had spent the bulk of two days working on it, only taking a few hours to rest. Mei asked the others to assist where they could, but Bart wasn’t having it. He kicked everyone out except Zoe. Mei almost objected but ultimately let it go. She trusted Bart to know what he was doing.

Now came the time to see how good an engineer he truly was.

“Hold it there,” shouted Bart.

John gripped the sides of the coil with both of his bulky arms. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll just be here, hugging this stick.”

Bart rushed into his tent. A second later, Mei heard a soft crash from inside. Bart cursed, then reappeared with a drill.

“Everything alright?” asked Mei.

He grunted and went to the coil.

“Now what?” asked John, his arms still wrapped around the device.

“Hang on,” said Bart. He used the drill to pull one of the panels off the side of the coil.

“What are you doing?” asked Sophie.

Bart fumbled around with several wires inside the machine, shifting them to the side. He touched the back portion of the outer shell and snapped something into place, then grinned. “Forgot to hook a fuse back in. Close call.”

“You idiot,” snapped Zoe. “The last thing we need is for the coil to overheat.”

“No harm done,” said Bart.

Zoe glared at him.

“Alright, John,” he said. “Hold it steady.”

John nodded with a look of hesitation. “You’d better know what you’re doing.”

With his pad, Bart called up the control screen for the Fever Killer. He tapped the pad, and the coil let out a loud boom and the ground shook.

John flinched, but held on tight. “When can I let go?” he yelled, his voice distorted by the vibrations.

“Hang on,” said Bart. He tapped the pad a few times. The coil let out a loud snap, startling everyone. John seemed especially panicked. “Okay, you can let go!”

John released the machine and scurried back.

“What the hell was that?” asked Tabata. It was the first time he’d spoken in a while. Mei nearly forgot he was there.

Bart tapped the pad again, and the coil powered down. “I activated the locking mechanism for the coil. It shot a rod several meters into the ground, then expanded in nearly every direction, sort of like the roots of a tree.”

“Or a bush,” added John.

“Which is why he was holding it in place,” said Bart.

“Moving on,” said Mei. She wanted to get this show on the road. “Can we see if it works?”

Bart nodded. “Give me a second.” He tapped the pad once more, turning the coil back on. It was loud for a few seconds, but quickly shifted into a gentle hum.

“Well?” asked Mei.

Bart studied the pad. “As far as I can tell, it’s working. I don’t think we’ll know until the radiation hits it, though.”

“So we’ll have to move it,” said Sophie.

“Right,” said Bart. “It won’t do us much good sitting in the middle of our camp.”

“Why not?” asked John, frowning.

“It has to be within the radiation zone,” said Mei. “Once we’ve got the coil set up, we’ll monitor it for a while, see how it does. If we get some worthwhile results, we can put more of them up and gradually push our way forward.”

“Like an army moving the front line,” said John.

“Something like that,” said Mei.

Zoe furrowed her brow. “How are we supposed to transport this thing closer to the radiation, especially after what happened before?”

“It’ll work,” said Mei. “The radiation isn’t very strong until you’re in the heart of the Ortego complex, closer to the ruins. We can put it up near the edge of where the radiation is hitting. A normal rad suit should be enough to protect me while I get the coil into place.”

John looked at her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, waving his arms around. “I think you’ve lost enough hair for one month, lady. Let someone else handle this.”

Tabata nodded. “He’s right. Your health may have improved since your initial exposure, but your body is still recovering. Another dose of radiation could kill you.”

“Good point,” said Zoe. “There’s no way you’d be able to lift the coil on your own.”