Lost in Time

Volume 8 Part 1: Chaotic Cleansing

Volume 8 Part 1: Chaotic Cleansing

The curtain of night had fallen over the stage of day, though clear skies and a silvery slice of the beaming bowl of the moon rendered it fairly penumbral. Up high in the star-spangled night sky, the two eyes of Orion's Seven Sisters winked at the Earth intermittently.

At the grand gallows, the villagers had a wild bonfire going. Seven fires were ablaze around the gallows whose fate was sealed, etched in bold in the blood of the fallen Pitkerns. Designated teenagers had the merry job of stoking the fire and keeping the flames burning till the light of dawn tears through the firmament. Women clad in traditional skin, headwear weaved out of peacock feathers and armlets adorned with bright blue beads, were performing some ritualistic dance.

Nia sat on the grass, reclined against the bark of a sycamore. She took a bite of the succulent flesh of a roast bird seasoned with some spicy flavor, her eyes rolling into her head at the immense sweetness. Opposite her, Walter sat on the ground, his right leg propped over a protruding root. He was done eating a while ago and was now watching the dance a dozen or so feet from them.

He couldn't say he'd ever seen anything quite like it in his time sailing among the stars-well mostly interstellar space. In his pursuit for greater heights, something beyond the veil of the blue skies, he'd forgotten what made humans a unique species.

God It felt good to get in touch with his roots.

"You wan..." Nia started with a full mouth before swallowing, "you wanna explain to me how I'm supposed to bring a dead shuttlecraft several klicks in the mountains to life using my half-dead neural companion, then somehow cloak it from prying Pitkern eyes all in a space of what, four, five hours?" She laid it out for him. He shifted in his comfy position, drew in a lungful of cool island air and turned to face Nia.

He didn't know how they were supposed to unlock the next chapter of their universal quest-yet. What he knew was they had to deal with their current situation promptly. They had to fit in with this time, even if it meant hunting and gathering with the locals. Discovery of a 52nd century shuttlecraft by these remote islanders would not bode well for them.

"How's your leg?" He found himself asking out of the force of habit.

"A little twinge here and there, nothing life threatening." Nia's fire-born gaze was calm yet rife with expectation.

"And your shoulder?"

"Dried up nicely, should leave a gnarly scar but I can live with it."

"How's Noin?" Walter sought after a moment of silence in which a gust of wind ruffled through the leaves.

Nia shifted her position, then queried, "what is this, 20 questions with Walter?"

Walter fell silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. His eyes scooted towards the dancing women, then past them into the stretch of the wilderness. He did not have the answers, not yet. His thoughts wandered, asking what surprises the jungle held in store for them. There had been enough for a lifetime already. Yet he had a nagging feeling the universe was just getting started.

"There's a stim shot in the secure storage aboard Ladybird. You can use it to jumpstart your neural interface." He began, his face taking on a serious, thoughtful aura. Nia knew that look all too well. She'd seen it on occasions where The Nebulus was stuck between an alien armada and a pulsating pulsar that would shred them to subatomic smithereens if they dared enter its gravitational field.

In retrospect, they were caught in a similar situation. They had a mission to complete. And as far as black ops go, in this one they were completely in the dark. On the other hand, there was this place, the Pitkerns, this time they did not belong in. Both prospects were posing serious challenges at the moment.