Chapter 37 - Tymos Scouts the Second Continent
When Tymos transmitted himself to the second continent, he was alone. The last of his mutant companions had stayed in Ecla. The few Tymoreans that lived on this smaller continent, which was really more of a large island, had been evacuated. Most had been farmers of crops that needed a hot tropical climate. Some had been scientists, studying marine life.
However, Llaimos had discovered that a secret Ciriot base was located there. He had been unable to tell Tymos how long it had been there or give more than a general location to use to begin searching. The base was not visible to the scanners on the orbiting satellites. Nor had the arrival of the Ciriot been observed. Tymos put aside the idea that the satellites were sabotaged or the scanners needed to be upgraded. Such problems were for the future, when this useless war was over.
When Tymos arrived at the coordinates Llaimos suggested, he frowned because he found himself at one of the now deserted farms. If he had an airship, he would have had instruments to guide him, but he didn’t. He was on foot. Then he grinned. If the Ciriot could hide from electronic sensors, they couldn’t hide their presence from the aura. On foot, he would be able to sense their evil taint.
As he had done many times during his travels, he again concentrated on an inner sense of the aura. Into his mind came a map like sense of the area around him. He might have been a scholar examining a clear globe etched with the continents and seas. The second continent had an area marred by a pulsing reddish brown glow. His own location was a pinpoint of intense purplish blue. Another area glowed bluish green – near the coast where a tiny scientific hamlet had been. This was where captured Aeronites had been transported. They were his first concern.
No one noticed him when he transmitted there. In the instant of his arrival, he drew on the aura and cloaked himself with power. He wanted to gauge the temperament of these Aeronites. They had been prisoners of a kind. They could roam where they wished, but they had to fend for themselves in a climate that had once been hot and humid, but was now at the mercy of the corrupted terrain-reforming program. The weather had gone crazy.
All of the Aeronites had been warriors, trained to live off the land, and the sea. None had the means to contact their superiors, even if such contact was still possible. So far, the Ciriot had either not noticed them or had no use for them.
While he observed, Tymos saw signs of industry. The warriors had created baskets of woven vines. Several Aeronites approached his position, moving with slow deliberation, carrying full baskets. They were subtly deflected around his position, but he smelt the briny scent of fish. Nearer the huts, he saw racks with drying hopper skins.
Tymos allowed the cloaking of the aura to drop away. Aeronites amongst those idly walking around saw him appear as if from the air. Some called a challenge, and drew weapons. Those carrying baskets lowered them and drew knives. All began to edge closer to him, and encircle him.
“Please call all your comrades to come here,” Tymos invited. “I have come to return you to your baseships.”
When one of the nearest Aeronites whistled a complex tune, Aeronites erupted from huts and other nearby locations. Six forced their way through the circle of armed watchers, to confront the newcomer.
“Commander Jordan?” one demanded.
“No,” Tymos said quietly. “I am Tymos.”
Most of the circle of Aeronites did not recognise the name. The six closest to him did.
Another of the six announced with malicious glee, “We have one of the damned Governors’ whelps here. Kill him!”
The speaker thrust his knife at Tymos’s unprotected chest. His flashing move was stopped by a grip that seemed like steel.
Several of the others made a move to attack, but stopped, realising that Tymos was making no aggressive move of his own.
“I am not here to kill you, or to be killed,” Tymos said calmly, and loud enough for all to hear him. “I have come to take you all back to the ships of your Warlords.”
Reaction was mixed. Tymos sensed elation and relief from many of the group that was now over two hundred strong. There was intense hatred too; some of these warriors would still gladly kill him.
A few knew that should they return, they would be punished for ‘desertion’.
“What? We have won then? You Tymoreans are going to let us stay then?” one of the circle called out.
Murmured conversations amongst the crowd grew to a noisy babble. He caught snippets of each as he glanced around the part of the circle in front of him. These men were growing weak, because they lacked the food supplements they needed to provide certain essential nutrients that were lacking in Tymorean foods. Beyond the crowd, the sky was an odd orange shade, darkening with purple black clouds, as a lightning storm approached.
Tymos raised his voice to be heard over the babble. “I have come to return you to your baseships. You cannot stay here.”
The noise level increased to angry accusative shouts. Tymos waited for it to subside before he spoke again.
“You cannot stay because you will all weaken and die. Without the nutrient supplement pills, your bodies cannot utilise out plants and animals. The terrain reform program that was supposed to rectify that problem and cause all Tymoreans to die – since those nutrients are poison to us, was corrupted by your Ciriot allies….”
Again, Tymos waited until the explosion of protests and allegations against Tymoreans subsided.
“I ask you all to listen,” Tymos spoke with a trace of ‘command’ in his voice. It silenced those closest to him, and the others followed suit. “I bear none of you any animosity. You are all warriors who obeyed your superiors in good faith. You consider Tymoreans your enemies, and our leaders to be unprincipled monsters.”
Several Aeronites spat in his direction, and others shouted agreement with his statement.
Tymos ignored the spittle and the implication that he was as bad as his elders were, and continued to speak calmly. “Tymoreans are not your enemy. We defended what is ours from the unprovoked attacks initiated by your Warlords. We spared you where possible.”
Two more of the six nearest strode forward, trying to use their greater height to threaten Tymos.
“Do you call turning our minds inside out – sparing us?”
Tymos recognised these two. They had been amongst the group if infiltrators that Kellex had sent to the Royal Estate. He did not release the one who had attacked him or move to defend himself.
“What your damned Governors did to us was torture!”
“No, what your supposed allies, the Ciriot are doing to Aeronites and Tymoreans is torture.”
Slowly, patiently, persuasively, Tymos explained the situation now existing on the main continent. He told of the backlash of the failed terrain-reforming attempt, of how the Ciriot were spreading poisonous and mutagenic substances and destroying everything that was not shielded.
While many of the crowd wouldn’t care if all the native Tymoreans died, the majority were shocked by the idea of genocide – when they realised they were as vulnerable as the Tymoreans. Silence fell as they all realised the impossibility of evacuating their highly populated home world to this one that they had fought to conquer.
None of them wanted to believe how thoroughly they had been betrayed by the Ciriot or that the great war plan had failed. However, Tymos spoke so compellingly, explaining the odd things they had observed, that they had to believe.
“Coming here was never the answer,” Tymos spoke gently. “Our scientists have created plans – ways your people still on Aerdna can survive. Your world will need every warrior to help make those plans a reality.”
They crowd was coming around, but Tymos concentrated on the six nearest him.
“I cannot make you go back to Kellex’s ship, and I cannot force you to like me. I will simply say, that I personally, did not harm you. The Governors simply removed from you a power that you never learnt to control, and by which Kellex was manipulating you. The Governors did not remove your strength or your intelligence.”
Tymos finally released his attacker’s wrist. That one’s anger had not abated, but he was aware that the majority of his fellows now wanted to leave the village and return to the life they knew.
“I don’t believe any of your fancy words,” the angry warrior spat. “You go ahead, return these weaklings to face the wrath of the Warlords. Then you and I will fight, and then we will see who is the better.”
“If you wish,” Tymos agreed. “It will be a worthy challenge.”
One of the other six shoved the angry one aside. “How will you get us back? Do you have a ship?”
“No ship. What I will do is transmit you back in groups of five or six – to whichever baseship you choose. Four of them are still grounded. Two are in orbit – I cannot reach those ones.”
“Show us how you do this,” the angry one challenged.
Tymos nodded. “Pass me that basket.” He pointed to the forgotten load of fish.
A gesture from the challenger, sent two of the other Aeronites to fetch it. They needed two to carry it. When they placed it in front of Tymos, they stared as he hefted it with ease. The six nearest him didn’t quite hide their surprise.
“Now, if you would clear a path from here to the hut near the tree?” Tymos requested.
“Do it!” one of the six ordered.
Tymos held the basket with one arm as he used his free hand to take out his transmitter. Without fuss, he vanished from within the circle and reappeared by the hut. Then, when enough people had seen him there, he returned into the circle and placed the basket down.
“As you can determine for yourselves, the fish have not become scrambled molecules. I am ready to fulfil my promise whenever you are ready to leave.”
The angry one nodded, as if finally in agreement. “I will come with you first – to Kellex’s ship. I will bring five others.”
Tymos was gratified to see that the five he picked to come with him were warriors that seemed frail and weak. Or perhaps the choice was to risk the weakest warriors, so the strongest remained to fight if Tymos betrayed them.
Even weak, the four were not cowards. Tymos warned them of what they would see and feel, had them each take a hold on one of his arms. He then had the nearest other Aeronites move back and he transmitted to within the shields of Kellex’s ship.
The big Aeronite seemed about to call for guards.
“I gave my word,” Tymos told him. “And there are still many more to come.”
The four released warriors, wasted no time trotting slowly towards the ship. The big warrior growled and ordered, “Take me back.”
On their return, Tymos asked, “I would welcome knowing your name.”
“Kalcot!” he announced tersely. Then he turned to the crowd around him and ordered, “Assemble in groups. Those who have been here longest, go first.”
Tymos knew that Kellex’s infiltrators had been there longest, but these all chose to organise the groups according to who their commander was, and from weakest to strongest. They stood back and made it plain they were watching him.
Between each transmission, Tymos dew on the aura to replace his energy. The numbers of prisoners decreased steadily, with each group consisting of four weak and one still able warrior.
Kalcot and his cronies kept the flow organised, rotating a group to go to each available baseship in turn. However, when Tymos returned from his sixth trip, he found the remaining crowd rapidly dispersing. The reason was obvious, he could hear the identifiable thump hum of Ciriot aircraft. Tymos scanned the sky; saw the aircraft coming fast, flying low. They were heading directly towards the village.
While the Aeronites ran and hid, for they had no weapons able to destroy the aircraft, Tymos stayed where he was. He sensed the air currents and the unstable energy and tried to manipulate them.
Kalcot watched from an open doorway and saw only the arm gestures. He debated going and dragging the foolish Tymorean out of sight of what he had once assumed were Tymorean aircraft. He still thought they must be, if the redhead was not afraid of them.
When forks of lightning zigzagged from the clouds, as if directed by arm gestures, and struck the airships – the thud-hum was replaced by silence.
Tymos turned abruptly and called to Kalcot. “We need to hurry. The Ciriot may send more ships. They have a base on this continent.”
Once again, the groups of people disappeared. Kalcot chose to be one of the last to leave. He still didn’t completely trust the Tymorean, and still intended to challenge this upstart whelp of one of the Governors. His other reason was that he had made himself a leader of all the displaced warriors, and he was loathe to relinquish his power. When it became his turn to leave, he grudgingly realised that he no longer hated the red head.
Twice more, Tymos had destroyed Ciriot aircraft. The second time they had been close when Tymos had returned. Kalcot had sent scouts to the crash site, and although the ships had exploded, there were enough fragments to confirm them as Ciriot. The size of the explosions when the ships had crashed told him they had been carrying bombs.
“Kalcot, I believe you wished to challenge me,” Tymos invited when only six Aeronites remained.
The warriors were all taller and more solidly built than he was, but none acted on the invitation.
Kalcot voiced his thoughts. “I no longer wish to beat you to a pulp. You did as you promised. You have proved to be more than a younger copy of Commander Jordan.”
There were many complex thoughts in Kalcot’s mind that he didn’t utter. Tymos touched the surface but did not pry deeper. He finally said, “I heard you say that the Warlords are not in their ships.”
“That is so,” Tymos admitted. “They were invited to the Temple at Dira so they could learn the truth that you now believe. Should they prove to be as intelligent as you, they will return to their ships and be allowed to leave this world with their warriors. If they are not, they will have to fend for themselves and perhaps share the fate of the Ciriot.”
Kalcot repressed shiver. Something in the eyes of this young Tymorean Prince – belied the pleasant and polite manner. “We’re ready to go,” he said quickly.
Tymos returned to the now deserted fishing village and felt for the wrongness in the aura. Once he had the sense of distance and direction, he transmitted himself and arrived amidst a forest of tall conifer trees. He looked around for signs of the Ciriot glow trails, but saw none. However, the sense of the Ciriot was very strong. It was like he had noticed in Amik - a kind of unpleasant screech just past the range of his hearing. He drew on the aura and cloaked himself to seem invisible. Then he transmitted from tree to tree, and remained unseen by keeping still at each place. Instinct directed him to the edge of a clearing. He saw nothing with his normal eyes except evidence that something had blasted down here. Trees were blackened and flattened, having fallen outwards from the centre of the circular area.
As he watched and waited with the patience of a hunter, he adjusted his eyes to see beyond the mere visible spectrum. Normally, this stretched his optical perception into the infrared and the ultra-violet, but now he realised that he could actually see frequencies beyond even those.
He was seeing a shimmer, like of an energy wall. To prove his belief, two Ciriot appeared suddenly. They began to patrol outside this shimmering perimeter. Another pair appeared from the opposite direction, and disappeared through the barrier.
The Ciriot base was here, and had probably been there undetected, for a long time. The shields they used to hide it were far beyond the primitive and vulnerable shields used by the Aeronites. They might have provided the Aeronites with the technology, but made it flawed so that their shields looked like opaque white domes in the visible spectrum.
At night, the glow trails were clearer, and gave Tymos enough light to make his own patrol of the perimeter of the hidden base. He noted four places where the glow trails entered and left through the shield. He also found where a glow trail went from the shield, out into the forest. He would check that later. For now, he wanted to study the shields. He probed them with his adjusted sight, seeing different textures and colours as his mind probed deeper. He realised they were layered, and let information filter into his mind from the mind-meld with Governor Xyron, and the memories of Governor Reslic. Scientific studies and military encounters mainly, but augmented by psychological knowledge from his father.
The outer screen blocked all visual images. It was excellent from a distance, but flawed close up. To truly hide every non-natural thing, you would need to see the ground beneath the object – not just a void.
Tymos guessed that the screens behind that one blocked electromagnetic emanations, and various types of sensor scans. They might have a screen to deter people from wandering through the screen and seeing what was there. Perhaps that was less likely here, since the continent had only ever been lightly populated.
The four specific entrances made sense, or the Ciriot would blunder into the shields, but the question now was - did they have a screen to block energy-matter transmission?
A lot of information was in his mind about types of shields, and now, in the dark, he knew what to do to test them. He drew out one of the rocks he had collected during his patrol of the perimeter, and threw it parallel to the ground at ankle height. He counted the time between when the stone disappeared to when he saw a muted glow. The slight delay told him that the shields were spaced apart. The lack of reaction by the outer shield meant he would be able to transmit through it, into the first gap.
Tymos wasted no more time. He crouched low to the ground and ‘flitted’ through the outer shield into the gap. He used the power within himself to hide. The aura in the shielded area was too vile to use. In this narrow gap, there were no glowing trails. Tymos, seeing perfectly well in the dark, inched his way around the circle. He noticed the charred remains of hoppers and small birds.
That explained why his rock and the subsequent energy burst had not aroused interest. He edged closer to the next screen. Knowledge in his mind told him that if this screen would interfere with transmission, he would feel the dissonant resonance when he was close to it. He didn’t. He repeated his action, of transmitting through the screen from a crouched position, and became still once more.
One more screen existed between Tymos and the Ciriot base, but this one did not block light. The area in the centre of the shields was lit to be as bright as day. From here, the purposeful movements of the Ciriot were plainly visible. He would be seen if he moved.
Keeping low to the ground and transmitting from a crouched position, Tymos alternately watched and moved around the circle between the two shields. When he had completed a full circuit, Tymos decided that the Ciriot base was an amalgam of four huge space ships.
When he had learnt all he could from the outside of the first shield, Tymos withdrew – transmitting through all the outer shields. He narrowly missed being seen by two patrolling Ciriot. He held himself still, and they passed within inches of him. These two left the circular trail and followed the brightly glowing path into the trees, unaware of the wraithlike follower. They came to a large clearing containing what seemed like a field of large bubbles. Tymos watched as a Ciriot reached one of the bubbles and when it vanished a Ciriot scoutship was revealed. A short time later, with both Ciriot aboard, it blasted straight up until above the trees and then went to horizontal flight.
Tymos decided he had seen enough. When the time came to destroy this base, he would not be alone. He and his siblings would be fully familiar with all of the information they had gleaned about the Ciriot and their technology.
His most important concern was to ensure that no innocents remained in peril on this continent or any of the smaller landmasses.