Date: 2021-06-30T04:00:00+00:00
Description: Crash landing in an alternate reality with no hope of rescue, a research team of eight highly educated and accomplished but woefully ill equipped scientists find themselves struggling to carve out a new home in a harsh new world. In this bronze age meets fantasy world of city states and magic, will these early twenty first century explorers be able to survive without all of their customary tools and technology to rely on? Will they be able to build a future for themselves that is worth living or will life prove to be like much of history, brutish, painful, and short?

World Wright Incorporated

Vlad ben Avorham

Copyright © 2021 Vlad ben Avorham

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456

Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Launch

Not Kansas

Strangers in a Strange Land

Meet the Flintstones

From Camp to Keep

Return Triumphant and Victorious

We keep growing

Preparing Foundations

No Place Like Home

Festival

New Experiences

What a party

Everything Has Changed All Over Again

Winter is Coming

Growing Pains

New Perspectives

This had better be important

Winter

New Year, New Start

Broader Horizons

Priorities

About The Author

Launch

Launch

The faint hum began to build into an ear-splitting whine. Commander Davidson winced slightly. Even with all the sound dampening precautions, he thought he would never quite get used to the sound of a launch. It wasn’t so much an assault on his ears, but rather the high-speed vibrations that turned the ceramic composite plate in the base of his skull (a souvenir from his days as an A-10 pilot) into a tuning fork.

Blocking out the discomfort, he focused himself on the checklist. Power: nominal, and building smoothly.

Next came coordinates. ‘such as they are’ he thought to himself with only a slight cringe, which quickly faded as his adrenaline spiked. The numbers were right on the computer. He sighed quietly. Numbers on a screen do not translate into proper translation across the dimensional rift, nor to an exact location on the other side of the jump. What they were was a close approximation. “Close” didn’t help much if you materialized through the rift into a tree, a building, or even just a few inches below ground level. Still, they were supposed to be correct for this jump.

Auxiliary cooling breakers, set and press to test valid.

The BCI (Brain-Computer Interface) band test was actually the most fun for him. With the ringing in his head, the before launch test were not as much, but any other time, or while actually in flight, the sheer amazement of simply thinking what you wanted this bird to do, and having flight controls, thrust vectoring jets, and even emergency maneuvering thrusters all responding to the slightest impulse. It made piloting the XDC-131 Insertion Craft the most rewarding experience of his long career. This and the instincts of the pilot were the real reason most crew’s first jump in this beast wasn’t also its last.

Inertial suppressors showing green.

Mag locks engaged.

Communications: “Control, this is Davidson. Preflight coms check.”

Davidson couldn’t help but grin a little to himself when his old friend Mike ‘Doc’ Lauffler’s gruff voice rasped back through the headset. “Yeah, we hear ya. Up links check green.” a couple of heartbeats later, “Down links a go too.” Doc was ninety if he was a day. He’d been with the company since the late 2000s, one of the first hired on. No one else could have gotten by with running a control room that informally, but Doc, after nearly thirty years of taking all of his annual bonuses and 401K contributions in company stock options didn’t need the money and his experience couldn’t be replaced at any price. So Doc was kind of a rule unto himself. If Doc wanted something bad enough, he had enough clout that he could bully weaker members of the board to get it. A NASA refugee, Doc often bragged that his first day on the job was the launch of the last Appolo mission. He was also one hell of an engineer. “Young man,” (Doc always referred to him like that, despite Davidson, at 62, being the oldest pilot still allowed to fly) “you’re at T-2 minutes and counting. God speed, and don’t screw the pooch!”

Davidson’s grin broke out into a wider smile. “Roger that Doc, and thanks for the vote of confidence.” He looked over to the youngest pilot in the company sitting in the co-pilot seat next to him. “Johny, coms are yours. Give them the running count until launch.”

“Roger, wilco David.” Johny replied with a bit of a gleam in his eye. Like pilots of all generations before him, John St. Claire was an adrenaline junky. Polite terms like “thrill seeker” just didn’t do it justice. At just seventeen he had needed special waivers to even test for his license, but with his reaction times, no one could really object to his being there. Highest ever recorded. What he lacked in experience was made up for in speed.

It was the combination of Davidson’s decades of experience and St. Claire’s freakishly good reflexes that made them far and above the best team of an already very elite few. It was the computer that actually did the flying, but it did so based upon the information provided to it through the BCI of both pilots. The learning algorithem was finely tuned through more hours and days in the simulator than either pilots would care to remember, as well as mission data logs from their first dozen or so missions. For the first half second prior to launch and the first tenth of a second after translation back into the physical world, the computer relied on young St. Claire’s remarkable reflexes, weighting them just over three to one. Then it would calculate the best course of action between its past records, its own calculations, Davidsons’s experience and St. Claire’s reactions and phase the craft back through the dimensional rift into real space again.

Their longest flight on record was thirty-seven seconds, their shortest mission was just under one. Total distance? Seven hundred and forty-three light years in the rift, and less than two inches when they come back to real space. Davidson gave himself a headache every time he tried to think about it too much. He was just the bus driver; he reminded himself. Understanding the inside of the rift was for the eggheads in the back. Yeah like most other accomplished Air Force Officers who had transferred over to the new US Space Force back in the mid-2020s, he was no slouch in the brains department even eventually finishing a double doctorate in Mechanical Systems Engineering and Military Science but didn’t really apply.

As the egg heads crossed his mind, the BCI flashed the crew vitals across his HUD. The “Basket” was full today, but as he ran down the list, other than elevated vitals because of the pre-launch excitement, all six of the “egg heads” seemed locked in and ready. “T-30,” came a steady voice from one of the flight engineers at Control.

St. Claire took a deep breath. “All readings nominal. All indicators in the green. We are a go for launch.”

Davidson felt the old, familiar grin steel across his face. “Roger that. Stand by to release docking clamps on my mark.”

“T-10” the calm voice said.

The tension built... “4, 3, 2...”

“Release!” Davidson said firmly.

St. Claire pushed the last manual control they would need to operate until they had returned just as the voice from Control finished the countdown. “Released!”

Instantly all awareness of the world as they knew it vanished...

Mayday Mayday

Translation through the rift was complete, and their senses had almost returned when Davidson heard St. Claire let loose a high-pitched shriek. This wasn’t the normal shout of pain or discomfort but the primordial wail of agony in which all concern for appearances or dignity was gone and only mindless pain and instinctual terror remained. Davidson tried to turn to help the young man, but before he could even form the complete thought, St. Claire’s BCI responded to his attempt to recoil from the pain and sent the whole craft into a roll.

Davidson didn’t have even a fraction of an instant to react before he too was thrown into this blinding pain. It was as if his entire body and mind were ripped apart, but it did not give him the grace of death. Floating in what he could only think of as a blinding white sea of darkness, every fiber of his being pulled apart and seared with a cold flame both inside and out for what seemed an eternity...

The first thing he realized was that the pain was gone. Not just the mind numbing pain that he had experienced in that bizarre “otherness” of the rift’s hell scape, but also the dull ache in his knees and back as well as the stiffness in his fingers. He slowly forced open his eyes and realized that everything seemed just a little crisper. Hell, even that dull low grade ringing in his ears from too many years in an A-10 had gone completely away. He’d lived with that for so long, he didn’t hardly even notice anymore, but he noticed now that it was gone.

Looking down at his hands, his eyes grew wide with shock. They weren’t the scarred and gnarled paws of a man who had spent far too many years in a dojo, tourney field, or forge in his life, but they looked as if they had never held a tool, or a weapon, nor struck another man in anger. It was only the cry of outrage from his co-pilot’s seat that snapped him out of his shock and back to more immediate concerns.

“Look at me!” screeched a high pitched, almost whiny voice. “I can’t be older than five! What the fuck is this?”

Davidson’s eyes were wide. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. In St. Claire’s seat sat a child, as he had estimated about five years old. The tiny body seemingly swimming in St Claire’s flight suit. The child looked over to him in rising panic. His full emotional melt down only interrupted by the sound of pure Bedlam from the other side of the cockpit’s sealed door. The “Basket” was awake, and by the sound of it, had their own adjustments to reality to deal with. A testament to the training and the maturity of the young man trapped in the child’s body. The sound of the chaos behind them helped St. Claire to regain his composure. “Go ahead and help them, sir. I’m useless for that like this, but I can still run status checks on this heap and see how bad the situation really is.”

Davidson realized he was still just starring in a daze, grunted, “You’ve got this. Figure out what you can, while I try to un-fuck the situation in the back.” As he said those words, his voice sounded odd in his ears. It was stronger than it had been in years. Decades of accumulated smoker’s rasp just gone in an instant. He shook his head and stood up and almost fell back into the chair.

Looking down, his leather boots and cotton socks were both just a fine powder on and around his feet. Only the heavy plastic soles were still there, loosely attached to his calves by some nylon reinforcement that had been used between the layers of the leather. Cursing softly under his breath, he carefully kicked his feet free. Placing bare feet that didn’t seem to know what a callous was carefully on the cool aluminum decking of the craft’s floor and making his way carefully back to try to manually force the pressure door between the cabins.

Power was out all over. The only light was streaming in through a long rent in the fuselage's side. He didn’t want to think what that meant for structural integrity, but that was a worry for later. He had to resort to using the crash axe as a pry bar, but finally, with an audible hiss as the pressure seal broke, the door slid open. What had been a dignified team of late middle-aged scientists at the peak of their professional careers when they had launched not more than an hour or so ago, now looked like the cast of an 80s teen comedy in flight suits. Davidson would have laughed, if he hadn’t felt so much like crying.

The Gang’s all here

Looking around the small cabin, Davidson couldn’t help playing the mental game of putting the unfamiliar face with the well-known name. The esteemed Dr. Evita Young was well, young. Maybe fourteen or fifteen by the looks of it. One would never guess she was hiding a 168 IQ, doctorates in quantum physics and applied mathematics from Cal Tech, behind those long strawberry blonde locks and light dusting of freckles. He couldn’t help thinking, ‘we’ve got our Molly Ringwald’.

Then there was Dr. Georgia “Stonewall” Stone, because trying to argue with her was like trying to argue with a stone wall. Her long gray hair, which was always worn pulled up in a severe bun, was now blonde and had tumbled loose and hung to her waist. Speaking of that, oh, what a change there. From her former Davidson estimated three hundred pounds, the new, maybe nineteen-year-old Ms. Stone might be a hundred and thirty pounds, and in all the right spots. Davidson had to force his eyes to move on. Looking like that during her school years, he thought, even with a 175 IQ how did she ever manage to find time in her social life to complete a Phd in Applied Physics with her accompanying six lesser degrees?

He almost shook his head as he scanned over to Dr. Anju Gupta. Almost the poster child for the stereotype of the driven Asian overachiever. Davidson could believe Mr. Captain of the Chess and Debate team had his twelve, yes count them twelve, earned degrees, and more honorary degrees than Davidson’s native Texas in August. Even lost out on the Nobel three years running, (for political reasons Davidson suspected) and none of that surprised. If you said that he had a date with a real girl? That would be a reason to call bullshit. Regressing in age to 17 or so only made it worse, not better.

Of course, on the opposite end of the spectrum there was Dr. Marcus Godfreed. At 6’7" and nearly 300lbs of lean muscle, Dr. Godfreed got into The Citadel on an athletics scholarship to get his first degree in Statistics. He looked in his early twenties, and as if he just might be able to bench press a Mac Truck. Fortunately for the world as a whole, Dr. Godfreed didn’t pin all of his hopes on a career in the NFL. His statistical analysis algorithms were one key to letting researchers make sense of insanely large data sets without needing quantum computers. As the only crew member older than Davidson, he was the only one in the “basket” that looked like he could pass for an actual adult.

Finally, his eyes fell on Josh and Sam Roth. These two looked like they belonged at a D&D or maybe Hacker’s Convention. The brothers, who now looked to be about twelve, had a terrifying 190 IQ. Limited social skills, limited concern for conventional matters. College drop outs, they had started their own internet company in the late 90s and won and lost more money than Davidson would ever see in his life. If it interested them, they could focus for days, neglecting even food or sleep. If it didn’t interest them, no matter how important it seemed to everyone else... Davidson figured it wasn’t their fault, it was a quirk of how their minds worked, but if they weren’t so damn brilliant no one would tolerate everything else that went along with it. He really was dreading a survival situation with these two.

“No one injured?” Davidson asked. After getting head shakes all around, he just nodded. “Ok, well, if you don’t know how this happened, then you damn sure know that I don’t. The important thing is we figure out where we are now, and how to get home. We can worry about anything else after. Agreed.” He waited to see the worried nods all around. Then he turned back to see what St. Clarie had found out.

Not Kansas

Not Good

St. Claire was just sitting in the chair, staring at his hands and feet, when Davidson returned to the cockpit. “John, are you alright?”

St. Claire gave a harsh laugh bordering on hysteria. “How could I be?” His voice cracked and came out as a harsh whisper, “Eli, I don’t even have hair anymore.”

Davidson blinked, then realized what he was referring to and winced. Having to do puberty twice was a nightmare. Crying about it wouldn’t help though, he needed to get Johnny focused again, “I thought your generation was in to ‘manscaping’” he put added emphasis on the last word making it sound effeminate.

“Not funny!” St. Claire snapped.

“Yeah it was.” Davidson replied dead pan.

St. Claire chuckled sickly, “Ok, maybe a little.” They both laughed harder than the joke deserved, but the tension eased.

“So,” Davidson said with a sigh. “How bad is it?”

St. Claire shook his head. “Pooch is thoroughly screwed and expecting kittens. No power and I mean none. No generators, no batteries, no back-up systems, even the plutonium battery that is supposed to last for a thousand years or some such is as dead as your sister’s cell phone after three days lost in the woods. How that happened, I have no answer for it.”

Davidson sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Your boots still in one piece?”

St. Claire looked at him funny, then fished into the footwell on his side of the cockpit. He pulled up two heavy nylon “jungle” boots, laces still tied. His feet simply shrank out of them. “Yeah, lot of good they’ll do me.”

Davidson snorted. “I wanted them for me. My leather boots disintegrated, along with my cotton T-shirt and socks. Let’s just say I’m going commando in my flight suit and if I get extra pissed off, you’ll know that the chaffing has started.”

St. Claire gave a rueful chuckle, “At least your flight suit fits.”

Davidson nodded, “Yeah, there is that.” He began putting on the boots. “Damn, but your feet are small.”

“Fuck you!”

“What was that?” Davidson snapped back.

“Fuck you, Sir!” St. Claire replied with a grin.

“Much better. Such a potty mouth at your age.” Davidson teased as he finished tying up the boots. Seeing St. Claire stiffen, he just asked with a grin, “What too soon?”

“Only about twelve years.” St. Claire grumbled.

Davidson sighed, and his tone got serious. “John, I know this isn’t easy. There isn’t shit either of us can do about it right now. So you’re just going to have to embrace the suck, son. I don’t have to tell you, we’re not getting out of this one anytime soon. Just sitting here isn’t helping our situation. In your current condition, you’d not be much help on doing a recon patrol. So what I need you to do instead, is get me an inventory. Try to get the egg head squad organized.” Davidson rubbed his eyes wearily, realizing exactly what a task he was leaving for the young man. “I’ll speak to Dr. Godfreed before I leave. Have him sort of put some authority behind your words, considering...” he just vaguely gestured at St. Claire’s current appearance. “Think you can handle it?”

St. Claire let out a long sigh. “Yeah boss. I’ll get it handled one way or another. You just be careful out there and don’t leave me stuck here alone with them, ok?”

Davidson grinned, “Good to know you care.”

St. Claire snorted. “Never said that, just don’t want to be stuck baby sitting the egg heads by myself.”

Davidson patted him on the shoulder as he moved back to have a word with Dr. Godfreed. Seeing the others still huddled in the back, mostly in shock, Davidson knew that this was the calm before the storm. When the shock wore off and the precariousness of their situation began to truly dawn on them, that was when the real danger would begin. Davidson really hoped to have scouted the area and returned with at least some hopeful news before then or things would go downhill quickly. Quietly Davidson motioned for Dr. Godfreed to join him in at the door between the cockpit and the basket. With his voice pitched low, “Dr. Godfreed, this is between you and the command staff for the moment. We’re not going anywhere soon. Tell them that power is down. Tell them to gather tools and brainstorm options for restoring power. Between you and me, it’s not happening, and probably wouldn’t matter if it did too much structural damage. So as not to cause a panic before I can get a better grasp of the over-all situation, keep them focused on a solution to the power problem. Lt. St. Claire also became younger.” He stopped as he saw Dr. Godfreed wince. “Physically, he’s about four or five right now. I need to run a quick recon patrol, survey the local area. While I’m gone, you’re the only one physically capable of mounting a credible defense should it come to that, as well as maintaining order. Can I count on you for this?”

Marcus’s eyes went wide, but he quickly nodded. He took a steadying breath and in a voice loud enough to be overheard said, “Yeah Commander, I think we can handle working on that. Anything to get us back up and running.”

Davidson gave him a firm, confident nod. Only Marcus could see the gnawing concern hidden behind the impassive face. He turned to the others and said, “Ok people huddle up. Here’s what we know so far...”

Davidson started to pick up the crash axe, but thought better of it and tucked it inside the door to the basket before selecting a 9 inch long screw driver instead and slipping it into his pocket before cracking open the hatch and stepping out into the dazzling sunlight.

Could have been much worse

Davidson clamored out of the top hatch and on to the spine of the wrecked craft. As his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he realized that they had wedged into a small crevice about two-thirds of the way up a rocky cliff face. He was probably only ten yards from the top of the cliff, and maybe twenty-five or thirty above the roiling surf below. Skies were a bright clear blue, and the sea was calm as glass out away from shore and a beautiful sapphire blue.

The warm sun was bright and intense but with the cooling sea breeze it wasn’t unpleasant. In other circumstances, he would have liked to sit and just watch the waves for hours. He noticed with a smile that there were many sea gulls in the area. If the birds could eat, then so could he. He sighed with relief. That was one worry out of the way.

One down, only a million more to go. He shook his head to clear the negativity He looked over his bird and couldn’t help the sinking feeling that threatened to swamp him under. His initial assessment was too generous. This bird would never fly again. The left wing had completely sheared off when they translated back into real space and was sitting on the rocks at the bottom of the cliff face. The right wing and a portion of the nose cone were embedded in the cliff's rock itself.

The good news is that would stabilize it and likely keep it from falling into the sea. The bad news was that it meant that they weren’t moving. There was no easy way up or down. Ok, down was easy but not a good idea. He took a moment to gather his wits about him and ducked back in to the hatch. The crew emergency escape hatches on the sides of the craft both had a solid twenty foot long, 1500lb test nylon cable attached just inside the hatch for emergency egress. With a little effort, he could connect them and have a safety line in place for future trips. Assuming of course he made the first one in one piece.

Davidson sighed as he squinted up at the rock face. ‘standing here looking at it would get nothing done’, he thought to himself as he settled the coiled cable over his shoulders and began to climb. He found it slow going. He wasn’t even halfway up when he really missed his old calloused hands, if not his old arthritic fingers and knees.

A long and sweaty half hour later, he pulled himself up over the rim. He knew he should be looking around for danger, but the climb had really taken a lot out of him. He lay there for a moment, just panting and staring up into the sky. His body may be young again, but it hadn’t been hardened at all. His hands were a raw mess, and despite the boots, his feet were already getting blisters, and unless he was completely mistaken, he was already well on his way to a very fine sun burn. He needed to get this little scouting mission over as soon as possible and give his body a chance to adjust. Or he would be no good to anyone by tomorrow morning.

With those thoughts in mind, he looped one end of the cable securely around a large boulder and threw the other end over the side. He smiled happily to himself when it coiled slightly at the bottom, with about fifteen feet to spare. Davidson took a moment to take in his surroundings. The top of this peak he found himself on seemed to be the high point of the small island. The entire area was covered in short scrub land and sparse trees, though lesser vegetation grew thick and abundant. There was a small harbor off to what he, based upon the current position of the sun, decided to consider east and what looked like a small village on it. Further inland a a bit north of the village was a large area with a glistening black surface. It seemed too big to be a parking lot, and too irregular in shape. Out ever farther on toward the northern tip, it looked like he could see smoke curling up from more fires, so potentially another little village. It seems likely as the surrounding land appears to be broken up into fields by the patchwork design that Davidson could make out, even from this distance. Stretching as far as the eye could see, off to the south the Island was just rolling hills covered with more of that scrub land. If there were any people or resources to be had, there Davidson couldn’t figure out what they would be from this vantage point. What he could see, or at least thought it could, it was far enough not be be able to be certain, was possibly another little dot of an island off on the horizon.

Not wanting to be gone from the others any longer than he must, and not willing to over stress his body, Davidson set off at a brisk walk to inspect the nearest clumps of trees.

Abundance Report

Davidson had spent longer away than he had wanted, and the sun was getting low in the sky as he brought back the last crude leaf lined twig basket to the top of the cliff. He could feel the burn on his skin and knew it wasn’t a good sign. He’d spent as much time as he could in the shade of the trees while wild gathering. Food would not be a problem, at least in the near term. Water would be worse, but they had brought enough along that with rationing, they would still be fine for several days.

At the top of the cliff he stopped and called out, “John!”. When he got no reply and not really wanting to get louder for fear of attracting unwanted attention, he hefted a fist sized rock and hurled it at the top of the ship. BONG! “John St. Claire!” he called out again.

This time it wasn’t long and his efforts were rewarded by the hatch sliding open and a tiny head popping up through. St. Claire waved up at Davidson, “Glad you’re back!” He was up the chute in an instant but as soon as he put a bare foot on to the sun baked metal skin of the XDC-131 he howled in pain and nearly fell back through the hatch. Davidson cursed himself for not thinking of this.

Moments later, Marcus Godfreed stepped carefully out of the hatch and squinted up at Davidson. Davidson called down to him, “How is he?”

Marcus shook his head. “Got burned pretty good. It should heal up fine, but he won’t be doing much walking for the next day or two.”

Davidson swore under his breath again. It was careless minor accidents like this that can be life or death in survival situations. They were going to have to be more careful. He just took a deep breath and released. Can’t undo what’s done, only learn from it. “I need you to help with the groceries. I went for takeout.” Davidson said, as he started to lower the first three baskets that he had tied to the end of the rope.

Marcus was shocked to see the amount of food in each as he untied them and watched Davidson started pulling the rope back up for the next load. Fifteen minutes later, the twenty mid-sized baskets of wild olives and figs, and various greens were all lowered down. Before Davidson could begin his decent, Marcus stopped him. “Hey, not yet! You’ve got one more job. Hold tight, I’ll be right back.” He said as he took the last of the baskets over to the hatch. After handing the last of them down, someone handed him up a bundle which he tied to the bottom of the rope and said, “Pull ‘er up!”

Davidson’s brow wrinkled a moment but hand over hand, he figure it wouldn’t be long before his question was answered. It wasn’t a horribly heavy package. He was only confused for a moment when he saw it. They had found cargo netting on board. With some quick alterations, they had cut it into thin strips two grids wide and fastened the ends together. Just like the marines used in the second world war to get from the deck of the navy ships to their landing craft, he could easily go down this much more secure than the rope. Damn, but this might just save his poor shredded hands. Picking up the crash axe and the four long steel spikes that had been rolled up in the middle of the webbing, Davidson set about driving them deep into the solid stone and securing the top of his ladder.

Strangers in a Strange Land

Early Morning

Johnny wasn’t happy. Oh, the mix of aloe and freshly pressed olive oil that Dr. Gupta improvised had helped, but they had all been cooped up in this tiny tin can for two days while he and the Commander recovered. It was hot; It was cramped, and it had started to smell like a like a locker room after the first day, and this was the morning of day three. Water was rationed. The diet, while far from starvation, wasn’t what they were used to, and made the rationed toilet paper situation more of an issue than he wanted to think about. To top it all off, all he had to wear was this improvised loincloth made from some curtains that were originally used to hide away a small section of the galley where cleaning supplies were kept. Out of eight extremely accomplished adults, none of them knew more about sewing than how to repair a button. The mind boggles.

He looked resentfully at the improvised harness made from the seat restraints. While everyone else would get to carry improvised back packs full of useful items scavenged from the wreck, because of his small size and lack of shoes, Sam Roth would have to carry him. The Commander had assigned the job to Josh Roth, but he had put up such a bitch about it that Johnny had in frustration said in his best Yoda voice, “This young padawan is not worthy. Teach I will not. Young Master Samuel, instruct I shall!”

In a tin can full of tired geeks on the raggedy edge, it was funny enough that Sam now took on the chore without complaint. Even Josh laughed. Johnny wondered how many times he was going to need Yoda before the long day was over. He sighed and began strapping into the harness and attaching the various small items he had gathered that might prove useful. Including one of the flare guns and six of the flares. The other was with Dr. Gupta. The Commander had the crash axe, and said as soon as they were up top, they would cut a large club for Dr. Godfreed. They might not be as armed as they would like to be, but for an unarmed craft, it was the best they could do on short notice.

Damn Neanderthal

Georgia had been trudging through the wilderness for the last four hours. She had blisters on her feet and she stank. She had been sleeping in this damn flight suit for two days, and while her expensive silk stockings had crumbled to dust, her cheap rayon underwear survived untouched. Too bad it was about six sizes too large for her now. How crazy was that? She never thought it would upset her losing almost two hundred pounds and over forty years off of her looks? It’s just, did she have to trade her entire world for it? Yeah, the work she was doing now was classified at the moment, but when they went public in a few years, this was the stuff legends were made of. Georgia sighed as her feet slid around painfully inside the boots with each step. She didn’t know if the liquid she could feel squishing was sweat or blood.

That damn neanderthal Davidson wouldn’t let them sit and rest either. He just kept issuing orders. Oh, she knew he was the mission commander, but the “mission” didn’t seem to be going so well. Besides, wasn’t it his job to fly the plane, not crash it? She knew this wasn’t really fair, and she knew he was the one with all the survival training, but she was tired, and her feet were killing her, and she really didn’t enjoy being bossed around. Ok, well maybe... he did have a nice set of shoulders... she blushed and looked around as if sure someone could read her mind. Ever since the age regression, her hormone levels had reset, and it seemed like all she ever thought about was sex. Which was CRAZY since everyone, including her, smelled repulsive. The only thing positive about this grueling death march the barbarian was insisting on was that he promised that there was a spot where everyone could get a bath. These men didn’t understand that without proper hygiene there were infections us girls could get that in a world without antibiotics... she shuddered even thinking about how long it might take to naturally run its course. It was one of the reasons why oral sex was considered so ‘dirty’ up until about seventy years or so ago. Her eyes went a little wide, and there she was thinking about it again! This really was too much. Power goes out and suddenly she’s being drug on this long march by her hair by some cave man, with his heavy pack on her back like a pack animal. Sweating in the hot sun. All her intelligence and all of her education, and it comes to this. Then to top it all off, no lofty thoughts, just a burning lust to find some savage to rut with. The veneer of civilization on humanity really was thin, and not just for the sexy cave man who’s dragging me through this mess...

Her thoughts were interrupted when in the shade of a small clump of trees ahead, she could hear the sound of running water! They had found the stream! That meant a rest, and more importantly that meant a BATH!

On the Move

Davidson reached the small shaded grove of trees with a sigh. The tan was helping as was the aloe and zinc oxid powder mix from the emergency medical kit he had made everyone smear on their exposed skin before setting out but between the sweat and just the intensity of the sun; he was glad to have everyone under the shade. It had taken him a little more than an hour to reach this spot on his own, but nearly four hours to make it with the entire crew in tow. This might end up taking longer than he had anticipated.

Walking over, he dipped his hand in the cool stream and drank deeply. Turning to the others when he was done, “Water is clean. I drank from it the other day without problems.” he pointed to a small pile of rocks where you could see the water bubbling up. “Spring fed. If you venture further downstream, you’ll want to boil it first. Set up camp here. It’s likely that we’ll be spending at least one night. NO ONE GOES ANYWHERE ALONE! Am I understood?” he waited, and made eye contact with each one to get confirmation before continuing. “If you need to relieve yourself or want a bath, I understand. Take someone to stand guard. They don’t have to stare at you, but they need to be able to glance in your direction if you make any call for help. We know we’re not here alone. Listen to Lt. St. Claire.” Davidson sighed, “I know he looks five, but you all know that he isn’t. He’s had all the survival school training. He knows how to set up camp so that we won’t pollute our water source or expose ourselves to the locals. If he tells you to do it, just do it, there’s a reason. Once it’s done, if you want to learn the reason just ask, I’m sure he’s happy to teach you, it might just save your life one day.” Davidson shrugged off his pack and partially unzipped his flight suit before sitting down. “I’m going to take a few minutes off of my feet, and then if he doesn’t mind, Dr. Gupta, who has had a lot more experience through his charitable foundations in the developing world working with villagers who don’t speak his language, and I are going to make the trek down stream and observe the small village we saw below. Assuming that they aren’t lizard men who would be completely shocked by our appearance or head-hunting cannibals,” he said the last two with a forced grin to belay the real concern that was gnawing at the pit of his stomach, “we’ll try to make contact and initiate some basic trade. After this, we’ll make our way back to you here.” Easing his boots off with a grimace of pain, he slid his raw feet into the cool water of the stream. “I don’t expect we’ll be back tonight. We may not make it back by tomorrow night. However, if you haven’t heard from us by the third night, pull back to the ship, taking as many supplies with you as you can. Do not attempt to come after us, assume natives are hostile and make your plans accordingly. Let’s hope that won’t be an issue. Just the same,” he turned to look at Dr. Godfreed, “If you know anything about building simple survival bows, etc. it might not be a bad idea to make up a couple of them. If nothing else, maybe you can add some meat to the menu. Though until we know the score around here, be careful what you shoot. We wouldn’t want a problem because we inadvertently bagged some farmer’s cattle or poached game from the local nobility. Historically speaking, both were dealt with fairly severely in many cultures around the world. Any questions with the plan?”

Not seeing anything other than exhaustion on the tired faces, he nodded to Dr. Gupta and steeled himself to force his feet back into the boots. “How would you approach this?”

Anju shrugged at him. “Let’s not take more than we need to with us. It’s best not to appear too wealthy. What we do take we should break up in to three small packages of increasing value. That way we can offer or take away a package as a way of negotiating price.”

Davidson grunted, and they debated and haggled with each other, deciding the value of the various trinkets laid out before them based upon difficulty to replace, and value to societies of various technological achievements. Davidson’s worst nightmare was that they would find themselves both alien and primitive in the eyes of these villagers, and thus very very vulnerable. Fearing to delay any longer or risk losing the light, they set off downstream with their much lighter packs slung over their shoulders.

The Village People

Anju Gupta had always been grateful that his parents had brought him to the United States when he was very young. It had given him flawless English with a very mild midwestern accent, which was constantly valuable to him in his career. It gave him an intimate connection to the dominate culture of both business and finance. He was able to use this connection to turn his academic efforts into financial success. Success far beyond anything his lower middle-class parents had ever dared dream of when escaping the dangerous sections of Deli. Because of this, he had always felt a deep connection to those who didn’t have the good fortune to make it out. Who, like his grandparents, were struggling to just not starve much less live with any dignity. Because of this, he not only donated sizeable sums of money every year to modernizing developing nations, but also had spent quite a bit of time personally in some of the most dangerous slums and most remote poverty-stricken villages on earth. Yet no where had he quite seen a sight like that before him.

Commander Davidson had prepared an observation area for them. When he asked he found that Davidson had paid out of pocket to attend a civilian course taught by former graduates of the US and British Sniper schools. Usually this was only open to police and private military contractors, but Davidson knew some people and pulled some strings to be allowed access to the course. Anju didn’t want to think about why, and so he didn’t ask. It did allow them to study the very human villagers go about their daily lives. At first he was sure that they were late stone age, not seeing any metal tools in existence, but then he caught the glint of two bronze buttons on the tunic of an old man who arrived at the town’s central square, if you can call the wider spot in the mud path by such a grand name. It didn’t take long for Anju to recognize he must be one of the elders, or maybe the chief. So metals weren’t unknown, just too expensive for anyone here to be able to afford. Between that and the fact that despite their obvious poverty, no one was showing signs of starvation, Anju quickly changed the value of the bundles in his backpack.

After the sunset and the village streets cleared so that there was less chance of being overheard, Anju turned to the Commander and said in a low voice that wasn’t quite a whisper, “Sir, what we brought... um, it’s no good.”

Davidson grunting, half snarled back, “What do you mean ‘no good’? It’s all we have!”

“It’s too much.” Anju hissed back, signaling Davidson to remain calm. “We could buy half the village for what is in those bundles. It’s enough wealth to tempt them to just kill us and keep it.” Anju hesitated for a moment. He knew this would not go over well at all. “For that matter, your axe may put us in more danger than it protects from. I counted twenty men in the village between fifteen and fifty. The chief may think if he rushes you and they can take that axe, it might be worth the couple he might lose.” Anju watched Davidsons frown deepen in the fading light. The other said nothing for a long while as the light faded.

Anju had almost decided that the Commander had succumbed to exhaustion and dozed off when a harsh near whisper replied, “When we circle back upstream for a bath in the morning, you can break down the small and middle pack as you see fit. You’re the expert on this, and I trust your judgement. As to security, and bringing the axe or not, that is my department. If this chief wants to get greedy, just stick close and I’ll get us out of there. Your one and only job on the way out, is to embed one of those flares deep in the chief’s face. After he’s died a lingering death in a weeks’ time, we’ll come back in force and give the new chief and weakened village, a whole new kind of proposal.” The naked promise of assured violence in the Commander’s tone chilled Anju to the bone. He believed him. This was not an idle boast. He only felt moderately better when he heard the tired sigh that followed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Those situations end up making for restless nights. Get some sleep, I’ve got first watch. I’ll wake you in about four hours.”

As Anju tried to get the sleep, his exhausted body craved, his mind couldn’t help replaying the resigned tone of one with long experience in the Commander’s voice as he spoke about restless nights. He realized that there was much that he didn’t know about Davidson. He now suspected that the old veteran had seen far more than he had let on to his co-workers and casual acquaintances. As sleep took him, he also had the realization that he was glad Davidson was on their side.

Meet the Flintstones

We Come In Peace

Davidson walked in slowly, letting Dr. Gupta lead the way. After bathing in the stream this morning and eating the last of the figs and olives that they had packed in with them from before, they began the leisurely stroll into the village allowing themselves and their clothes to dry in the near tropical air of the island as they approached from a path that could be easily seen. They really didn’t want to surprise anyone. Even so, their appearance in the village caused all bedlam to break out. Dr. Gupta glanced back at him a bit nervously. “It sounds to me like they’re speaking Greek. I can’t understand it, not that I speak Greek normally, but it doesn’t quite sound right for modern Greek. Just so you know, in some versions of early Greek the word for enemy and stranger are the same word. It’s even argued in some circles that when your Jesus said “Love your enemies,” He may have been talking about hospitality."

Davidson snorted and gave a short cough. “Uh Dr. Gupta, I’m Jewish. He isn’t “my” Jesus."

Davidson almost laughed out loud at the momentary confusion that crossed Gupta’s face. “Oh, fair point. Though supposedly, wasn’t he supposed to have been one of your tribe to start with? Honestly, I find the whole thing a bit confusing.”

This time Davidson did give a low chuckle. The things they talked about while mothers were snatching dirty children back into huts and men were running off to find men of authority. “Don’t take this the wrong way Doc, but I’m also from Texas, and we typically are confused about worshiping cows, steak maybe, but cows leave us scratching our heads.”

This time it was Dr. Gupta’s turn to laugh. “It’s ok. My family was never Hindu, so I share the confusion. We were always Buddhists as far back as I know.”

Davidson thought about it for a moment, “Huh, yeah, suppose that is pretty popular in that area of the world too.”

Dr Gupta sighed. “I’d say I’m agnostic, but I’ve seen enough of the math. There is an order to things. It isn’t an accident. What it all means? Let’s just say that the jury’s still out on that one.”

Davidson was a bit surprised. Most of the egg head types all tended to be arrogantly bought into their religion of “the great accident” and were more than happy to heap derision on anyone who viewed the world more broadly. To his mind they had really become more dogmatic and demanding of blind adherence to their own ‘orthodoxy’ than most religions. Even some of the more problematic ones. He was sure that the rabbis had gotten it wrong in plenty of places on the details, but the broad strokes... I mean, seeing people here in what can only be a different universe. Even the constellations are different, yet everything else “earth normal” up to and including many of the plants, animals, and people? How did they all get here if something did not create here them? Couldn’t have all crash landed in dimension hopping ships after all... His attention was pulled back to the present as he saw the old man with the brass buttons approaching, trailed by half a dozen men with various improvised weapons. They didn’t appear openly hostile, but not openly friendly either.

“Fair enough, but enough of that for now. Time to get your game face on. We’ve got company inbound on your two o’clock.” he told Gupta casually pointing at the Chief’s party who was headed straight for them.

Take me to your leader

Anju took a deep breath and did his best for a friendly smile as he approached with his hands visible and open. “Hello. We’ve come to trade.” He knew that they wouldn’t understand English, but he hoped that his calm voice and even tone would be seen as reassuring.

The old chief didn’t smile back, but rather eyed him warily. He looked over their flight suits with unmasked curiosity and Anju couldn’t help but grin when his eyes focused on the long brass zipper in the front. Anju knew he was mentally comparing it to the brass buttons he wore on his own tunic. In the back of his mind he was silently glad that the company hadn’t followed the military tradition of embroidered rank insignia so the Commander’s flight suit had actual silver wings on his chest, and a small sliver eagle on each collar and lapel. This would make rank and status apparent to the chief, even across cultural barriers. Anju filed that thought away for later consideration. Right now he had to focus on not getting them hit over the head with something.

“Trade,” he said again slowly. Hand signaling himself and motioning giving something to the chief and then getting something back from the chief. Anju could see recognition in the chief’s eyes, but no reply was made. The village men, who were acting as the chief’s guards, moved out around them and began to close in behind.

He heard Davidson’s voice growl. “Gupta, remember what I told you. This doesn’t go right, handle the chief and then just worry about keeping up!”

“Not yet.” Anju pleaded with Davidson. “They may just be spooked.” He turned back to look at the chief, his eyes trying to convey that they didn’t want trouble. He could see the chief considering the situation. Davidson’s tone had definitely made him more wary, whether or not that was a good thing Anju had no way of knowing.

Anju almost audibly sighed as the chief issued an order and the men who had been circling them pulled back and seemed to relax a bit. The tension dropped out of the air and the chief gestured toward a small shaded area under a tree that had a few logs arranged as low benches. “Commander, I think we’re good. The chief seems to have concluded that he can gain more by working with us than anything unpleasant.”

Davidson snorted quietly. “Smart move” was all he said.

What we have here is a failure to communicate

Chief Dorien wasn’t sure what to think about these strangers. Their manner of dress, their speech, even their unnaturally healthy and unblemished appearance, was just odd. It was as if they had never missed a meal or been sick a day in their lives. It was like they had never had to do a hard day's work either, judging by their hands. Yet the weave of their garments and the amount of metal they casually carried was vast wealth. Where were all of their guards? Their leader? The one who spoke with the tone of menace and command, and carried an axe worth more than two fine fishing boats, seemed to be the only one who was armed. None of this made sense, and until it did, Dorien wasn’t about to do anything to put his people in jeopardy.

Better to calm things for the moment. “Relax, we don’t know how many of them there are. You could be picking a fight with the leader of an army who is just camped off on the other side of the trees.” Leon and Crasus pulled back at his words. Dorien knew he would need to keep an eye on them. He would rather not have these strangers blood on his hands if he could help it, but he had noticed how Leon had been looking at that axe. He’d better move this along before things go out of hand. Gesturing over to the shade... “Please sit. We can talk”

Once everyone was settled, the chief gave orders for tea to be brought. These strangers obviously wanted some form of exchange. After looking to the one with the metal birds who was obviously his chief, the darker skinned man reached carefully into his bundle and pulled out another finely woven cloth like Dorien had never seen before. He unfolded it and casually spread the incredibly expensive material out on the dirt. Dorien had to stop himself from crying out at the casual abuse of such finery. Then carefully the man laid out upon the fabric a clear jar with a red lid. The jar and the lid were both made from a material that Dorien had never seen before. The second item was a small tube seemingly made of the same kind of material, and the last item was a stick with a small piece of metal stuck in it. Dorien wasn’t sure exactly what any of it was, but all of it was unlike anything he had ever seen. The man smiled at him and then picked up the first clear jar and using a twisting motion removed the lid, showing that it would open. He then mimed filling it with water, put back on the lid, turned it upside down and claimed it wouldn’t leak. Dorien didn’t believe him. Even corks sometimes leaked. “Bring me water!” As they were waiting for the water to arrive, the young man pulled out the second item. Again he twisted off one end and exposed what looked like an odd paint brush. He then he used it to draw a small circle on his hand. It made the mark like magic! When the water arrived, he not only proved that his magic jar didn’t leak, but the mark didn’t smear or wash away!

Gasps from those surrounding the chief were real. The stick was a handle and the small piece of metal a blade. The man used it to casually slice through a strip of the fine material and hand it to the chief. Dorien wanted it all. The other man mimed that they wanted to trade for food, and cloth, and leather. This was no problem the chief brought them out more than they could actually carry. He wanted these items. When next they met with the other village, everyone would see that he was the better chief when he had these amazing things. His villager’s sons would attract the very best of the mates this time. Who wouldn’t want to be in the village with such wonders?

The exchange made the tea arrived. Dorien almost jumped back. As the orphan girl he had taken in when her father was lost at sea served the tea, the smiling man’s somber chief, who had said nothing other than to nod or shake his head as the smiling man sought his approval for the trades suddenly lunged forward and pointed at her. Dorien didn’t know if he wanted her for his slave or for his wife? She was a comely young woman. Just past her fourteenth year, this would be the season they would probably match her at the festival. As he recovered from the shock, he thought better for her as this rich man’s pampered slave than a poor fisherman’s wife. Seeing the look of fear in Elena’s eye at being the subject of the trade, Dorien chided her, “What girl? Look at their wealth! Would you rather smell of fish guts your whole life? Even if he means to make you his pleasure slave, you know it would be the life of a perfumed pet! Your future would have been decided at Festival in the fall, anyway.”

Dorien hardened his heart as Elena fought back the tears. This was best for her, even if she couldn’t see it at the moment. He motioned his willingness for the trade and was surprised to see the flash of anger in the other chief’s eyes. There was some harsh argument between the two strangers for a moment, and the chief himself stood up. Dorien thought there was going to be a fight, but the other chief just walked over and took the girl’s wrist and pointed to the small carved horse on her bracelet. He wanted horses, not the girl. Dorien didn’t have horses to trade. He signed an empty hand. The other chief looked at his man, then back at Dorien. He pulled from his own pack a square that looked like metal, but unfolded like a cloth and flapped in the breeze. Directly he gestured from the magic material to the girl and back again, still with an angry look on his face. Dorien could tell he was way over paying for her as a way to show his value of her. Dorien wished he understood what had gone wrong, but he simply agreed. The other chief thrust the priceless treasure at him as if it were worthless. They gathered up their new goods, struggling a bit under the weight. Even loading up Elena until she could carry no more. Then, with a few gruff words barked to the smiling man, they all left without a single look back.

From Camp to Keep

What has become of my life...

Elena couldn’t help but cry. She was trying very hard to be quiet about it. The angry man who had bought her hadn’t even so much as looked at her since they left her village over an hour ago. The other man just looked uncomfortable. He looked like he wanted to be nice, but he didn’t know how.

What she knew was that she was tired. This pack was heavy, but she didn’t dare drop it. The angry man moved so fast. She didn’t want him to hurt her. She wished he’d never even seen her. What was she supposed to do now? How much farther were they going to go? She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Mamma Sara. Now she would never see anyone she knew ever again. There would only be the angry man forever. She thought, “He looked so strong and handsome at first, and then after he spotted her it all just fell apart. He got mad a Papa Dorien because he didn’t have any horses and only had to settle for me instead.” Her pity party was interrupted as she felt her foot snag. The ground was coming up quickly, and there wasn’t much hope of stopping it.

She had felt the ankle turn under her as she went down, but it was too late. Before she could recover, she felt herself being quickly turned over. She looked up, and it was the angry man! Oh, but he was fast! She cringed up in a ball protecting her face and head from the blow that she expected... When it didn’t come, it surprised her to see the horrified look on the angry man’s face. It was replaced for a moment by such a look of deep sorrow that Elena wanted to cry all over again. When he spoke, though, his voice was soft and deep and gentle. Starting at her head, he took her in his hands. They were firm and checking her for injuries, no matter if she wanted it or not, but they weren’t rough or mean, just not to be denied. All the while, he kept softly talking to her in that strange language. She did not know what he was saying. It might be “I’m going to kill you” she thought, but as long as he kept saying it that way, she would be happy to sit here stupidly and listen. Despite all the trauma of the day, she couldn’t help thinking to herself, “he’s inspecting you like a horse. If he, checks your teeth, whinny at him.” When he finally made it down to her left ankle, she jumped. As he slid her heavy woolen skirt up just a bit, it was already starting to swell. She groaned, “Is this where he puts me out out of my misery like a lame horse?” she thought bitterly.

Instead, he just swore softly, but without all the fire he had showed earlier. In several trips he just moved us all up a small hill to rest in the shade of a large tree. While resting, he unpacked and repacked all three packs, hauling two of them high into the tree. He marked the tree with his axe. Then handed the remaining pack to the other man. To her complete amazement, the angry man actually smiled at Elena as he not only helped her to her feet, but up on to his own back. Using some odd material to help strap her in place there. This was not what she had expected of him. He didn’t even seem angry about it. At first she thought he might have been because he would use the axe to strike a tree along the way every so often, but soon enough she realized that he was just marking his trail so he could find his way back to the things he left.

Another hour or so along the way and he actually jiggled her in the harness and whinnied like she was a little girl being entertained. It was so weird, but she couldn’t help laughing. He seemed pleased. Maybe this would not be all bad. As the day drew on, she wasn’t sure when exactly her head lay down on his shoulder, and she fell asleep.

Not so Triumphant Return

It was getting late in the afternoon when Davidson finally trudged tiredly into camp. He had sent Dr. Gupta on ahead several times as he hung back to make sure that they weren’t being followed. So between that, their accident along the way, and the little extra circuitous route he had used, it had taken most of the day before he could drag the three of them back to the little shaded grove of trees that was now looking much more like a defendable camp.

Lightweight lean-tos were arranged in such a way that they acted as a blind, screening the small reinforced palisade of wrist thick saplings that could act as a defendable retreat of last resort if they were attacked. It wasn’t horribly sturdy or spacious by anyone’s imaginings, but given the state of the locals, Davidson judged it would actually be effective enough at slowing them down long enough to give the defenders a real advantage. He thought to himself, “I have to remember to praise St. Claire and Godfreed. For just two days with no more work crew than they had, this is impressive.” The others saw him coming, and all came bounding up, but stopped and stared at their new guest with curious expressions.

Dr. Stone was the first to crudely broach the subject. “Find you a little local action Commander?” she said just a little hotly.

Davidson was pissed but before he could reply Dr. Young replied in a catty tone, “Afraid you’ve got some competition?”

He wanted to grin at the combined look of shame and anger that came over Dr. Stone’s face, but he knew he couldn’t let this get out of hand. “Enough!” he roared. He instantly regretted it when he felt the little girl startle awake on his back and tense in fear. “What is this? High School?” He unstrapped his harness and helped the girl down, catching her as she winced from the pain in her ankle and nearly fell. In a gentle voice he said, “Shh... it’s alright. I know it hurts, but it’s just a sprain. You’ll be fine in a couple of days.” Then looking at the two women who were just staring at him, “Her own father just sold her for the price of a space blanket.” His tone of disgust clear to all. “How could I not take her away from that?” He continued, his tone not relenting. “She’s been pulled from the only life she’s ever known and dragged on a long trek. She’s hurt, exhausted, and scared.” He shook his head. “She has no idea who we are or what we’re going to do to her, and she can’t understand a damn word we say, so we can’t even tell her!” his frustration was rising. “Anything in her story relatable to anyone lately?” He took a deep breath and held it for a long ten count, and no one made a sound. As he released it audibly, he looked directly at the two women. “Perhaps, you two could find enough basic human compassion in your hearts to help her take a bath. Check for vermin, her people are barely more than cavemen.” as he said the last he nearly spat. “Put her in St. Claire’s old flight suit. It’s gotta be cleaner than what she’s wearing. We can get it washed tomorrow.”

He looked down for a moment, the wear and tear of this week fully exposed on his face for just a moment, but he pushed it away. “Look, people, this isn’t easy for any of us. We’re all we’ve got, and this isn’t the friendly, forgiving world we left with safety nets and support networks. There is no 911 to call, and we’re not going back to that world anytime soon if ever. Hell, the eight people you can see, are the only eight people in the world who even speak your language. So this is no time to fight. Do what you can to help each other out. It really is a matter of life and death, yours.” He took a moment to make eye contact with each of them. Once he was sure that they had actually heard him he stretched and said, “St. Claire and Godfreed, huddle up, we’ve got some things to go over before it gets dark.”

He half sat, half fell into the shade of one of the lean to’s as he watched the others getting back to business. The new girl had a bit of an awed look on her face. She just kept looking between him and the others. He knew she was trying to figure out what all of that was about, but he didn’t have the energy to explain it to her, even if he had the words. He was just happy that the two women were gentle with her as they led her off to a section of the creek that they had screened off and deepened to be used for bathing. St. Claire grinned at him as he and Godfreed came over and squatted down on their haunches. “You look like hell boss.”, he said, not letting the grin fade.

Davidson snorted. “Nothing two days of sleep wouldn’t fix.” Then he sighed. “Like that’s going to happen... Kind of what I wanted to talk to you guys about. Good job on securing this place. It’ll work well for now, but I do want to scout around a bit more and make sure this is where we really want to set up shop. When the girl got hurt, we had to leave two full packs of supplies. They’re hoisted high in a tree and will probably be ok over night but they need to be recovered tomorrow.” He shook his head. “Damn, but those people are dirt poor. Even Dr. Gupta said that he hadn’t seen anything like it on Earth except maybe some remote Amazon tribes. Even most of them had managed to get steel machetes... anyway, its good news for us. A few bone fishing spears and some clubs seem to be the only weapons. We counted maybe a dozen fighting age men in the village but the boss only seems to use about half of them as bully boys.” He looked over to Dr. Godfreed. “No bravado, any advanced fighting skills?”

Marcus snorted. “At my age, what’s the point of bravado?” Davidson just raised one eyebrow at him. Marcus realized what he had said and nodded. “Point. In my mind, I’m sometimes still an old man. This is taking some getting used to.” Then his face got serious. “Boxing growing up. Mixed martial arts phase after college for a few years but all that was what fifty years ago?”

Davidson nodded. “At least you have some fundamentals. Though weapons are a whole new bag. I fought three different traditional martial arts styles over the years, and obsessively fought in a group that did the European medieval weapons combat for nearly twenty years, even made my own armor. Unfortunately, like you, that was decades ago. Still... After we get our supplies. I want to organize a trip back to the wreck, see if we can salvage enough to maybe set us up a workable forge. Then you and I can see if we can knock the rust off of our skills. What say you?” He looked at Dr. Godfreed with a small savage grin.

Marcus gave a low chuckle. “I say those bully boys will be in for a real surprise if they decide to start shit.”

John sighed, “I hate being worthless.”

Marcus looked at him with concern, but Davidson just gruffly snapped at him, “Nonsense! Why do you think you’re here? You’re here to lead the others. You think those modern women are just going to listen to us when we tell them they can’t fight? They’re going to want to prove something and are going to get themselves hurt. Same goes for the Roths and even Dr. Gupta. He’s a good man, but he’s not really psychologically built for it. All of them are far too valuable for what is between their ears to let them get hurt doing something they weren’t physically cut out for. Hell if I had another alternative, I’d bench Dr. Godfreed here, but he has experience and standing beside the village chief’s bully boys, he’s a damn giant. There wasn’t a one of them that was close to six feet. It was like even I was in fucking munchkin land! If I can make him some good armor...” as he trailed off, Godfreed was grinning and St. Claire’s despair had turned into a low chuckle.

“So what do you want me to do?” John asked.

Davidson grinned. “You, my boy, are management. The Roth brothers are devious little bastards and we all know it, so play to their strengths. Put them in charge of force multipliers and area denial systems.” That got a low chuckle from Godfreed and an appreciative grin from St. Clarie. Davidson continued, “The girls won’t be happy with a purely support role, and we’ll hear about it. Normally I wouldn’t care and tell them to deal with it, but unless I miss my guess, they’d do something stupid trying to prove me wrong if we don’t give them something fairly active. If we can get some crossbows made up and teach them to cover each other as the other is loading, they can be useful and still not too likely to get hurt. Especially if I can eventually get them some basic armor and we can put them in a fixed position.” Both men nodded, understanding the wisdom of that one. “Dr. Gupta would be an amazing corpsman. Man has balls of steel. He may not have the temperament to fight, but when things started getting tense this morning he was cool as any man I’ve seen. Let’s just pray we never need his services. That leaves you and our newest acquisition. You need to be an observer. You watch for what the rest of us are too busy to see and keep us from getting surprised. She’s on logistics. Running bandages or crossbow bolts, what have you as needed.” He sighed as he came to an end. “It might be quite a while before we’re to a point where we can flesh all of that out. After all, there is a ton of other building that needs to happen along the way but you understand the direction?” Both men nodded. “Any input?”

John shook his head. “Nah boss. We’ll get it figured out.” Marcus just nodded.

“Good, then if the women are done with the creek, I’m going to drag myself over and try to drown myself in peace.”

Return Triumphant and Victorious

Family of strangers

After his own bath, he returned to the fire to find the girl sitting by it. She really was quite attractive once the dirt and the tear stains, the sweat, and smell of the fishing village had been washed away. Her blond hair that fell to the middle of her back hung in a wet, tangled mess. He sat down behind her, fished in his pocket, and came up with his comb. He began to carefully comb through her hair. As he reached the first snags she tried to twist away but he just firmly put a hand on one shoulder and rather gruffly ordered “Sit”. She did, but he felt her tense up. Partly to put her at ease and partly to wander through his own memories. He began talking to her in a calming and gentle voice. “My daughter didn’t enjoy sitting to have the tangles combed out when she was little either. We used to have to take an hour to get through them all. Sit and watch old A-Team reruns while we did it. Your hair looks like it might be a bit longer than one episode. Of course she’s all grown now, with a daughter of her own.” He just continued on. She relaxed and when he was done her hair was all combed out and other than the slightly over sized flight suit she did like like any other young lady from back home.

He decided it was time to sleep. He lay down in the lean-to and pulled her in next to him. She struggled, but subsided when he barked, “Sleep time now” at her.

Georgia and Evita who had been laying in the lean to opposite him watching the entire scene rather intensely stood up to object as he forced her into his bed. Davidson was tired, though, and he really wasn’t in the mood for this. “Relax! I’m not raping the poor child! I just want to make sure she doesn’t get up in the middle of the night and sneak back to her village, telling them all where we’re sleeping. I’d rather not wake up in the morning with my throat slit, thank you very much!”

Both women sheepishly looked at each other and then back at him. With muttered apologies, they settled in themselves to get some sleep. Davidson let out a long sigh. Why could nothing ever be easy? Feeling the girl beside him lying there so tensely, he combed his fingers through her hair softly and whispered in her ear. “It’s ok, no one is mad at you. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe. Get some sleep. You’ve earned it.” With that he pulled her in close to himself, and he to tried to relax and soon drifted off to sleep.

Kindness of Strangers

Elena had been living among these strange people for a few weeks now. They really were so different from the people of the village. They all worked on things all day long, but no one had even built a proper house yet. The only proper building that had been made was a small covered space where the man who had bought her. She had learned that his name was either Eli or Davidson; it was confusing because most people called him Davidson, but when they talked, he had pointed to himself and said Eli. And he always answered her when she called out Eli. He wasn’t the only one who seemed to have more than one name, depending on who they were talking to. She was learning a few words of their language, but it was just so confusing.

They were such a strange contradiction. They knew so much, and yet about the simple things they seemed to be fools. When her time came last week, Eli sent her to be with the other women. This was common, even in the village women would live apart during this time. He seemed to think that they would teach her, but while these girls were older and should have been dealing with this for longer, they seemed to watch what she was doing with great interest, as if it was all new. Except if you thought that they were just fools, they built the magic throwing machine that could throw a dart farther than a man could run in a dozen heart beats in the space of one and throw it hard enough to kill the wild goat with just one hit!

Eli even gave her a metal sewing needle and a metal cover for her thumb that let her push it through even the thickest leather. Even if it got stuck, he made her these magic metal fingers so she could just grab it and pull it right through. Then just gave them to her. To her! An orphan and a slave! Who does that?

Sure, things were really scary at first. When he took her to his bed and the two women got mad, she was afraid that they were his wives and would be jealous and beat her. She had also never been with a man before and she knew that he wasn’t always gentle if he was angry, but he didn’t take her as was his right. Nor had he any night since. After he’s given her these gifts and been so nice to her, she kind of wished that he would, so that maybe he wouldn’t tire of her and send her away, but she didn’t understand them enough to know how to approach him. She wouldn’t want to anger him.

No one would want to, she thought with a shudder. His wrath was bad enough, but the giant with the skin like the night who does his bidding was terrifying. Both of them fully encased in their metal skins. They were invincible. Maybe some of the magicians that legend says serve the great kings on the mainland could stand against them. But she wouldn’t want to risk it. Yet even the giant is nice to her. He smiles kindly at her, and even though his voice rumbles like the thunder, it is kind toward her and just tickles her ears.

Eli has been working on a project for two days now. He pointed to her like he meant it for her, but he woudn’’t show her. She couldn’t help wondering what it was. She really wished she were smarter so she could understand what they were saying.

Sending a Message to the Chief

Eli had managed to make a saw in his crude forge. With it he had even created actual serviceable planks. From there it wasn’t too difficult to rough out a pair of crude wheels and an axle for a reasonable hand cart. He wouldn’t trust it for anything excessive, but a couple hundred pounds of grain could now be shipped back a lot easier than those damn improvised back packs. What he wouldn’t give for even a damn little donkey. It would make all of this so much easier.

He had also been able to hammer out a couple of crude butcher knives, and one halfway decent scythe that should make the coming grain harvest a lot easier. He really wanted to focus on getting grain and as much rope as they could get on this trip. He probably should have spent more time focused on making trade goods, but the kart really was a necessity and as he looked down at the pile of jewelry, he couldn’t help but grin. Sending the right message to the Chief was important too. When he was a young and poor Airman, he had taken up the hobby of making jewelry from common hardware. He’d seen it on a YouTube video and he had all the basic skills from making his armor, so this was an easy way to impress the girls. The pile he had before him wasn’t as fancy as the stuff he’d made in his youth, after all he didn’t have access to all the power tools and polishing pastes and what have you but there were eight little rings all neatly filed down from the retaining nuts he had liberated from the bolts holding their seats in place back on the crash, and each one had a tiny faceted “diamond” from a glass cabinet window back in the galley. If only he had some polishing paste, he could have made them really look good, but he thought they would probably look good enough for his audience. Of course the pièce de résistance! A small stainless steel bar that had once been part of a three-ring binder had been hammered into a rather pretty little circlet, with three little copper roses made from some pennies he had in his pocket hammered out riveted in place. He was actually quite proud of the little circlet. For no more tools than he had, he could probably have gotten twenty bucks for it back home at some renaissance festival. He chuckled at himself for such thoughts. They were a long way from such frivolous things now.

Anyway, he was almost sorry that he wouldn’t be going on this trip. He would love to see the old chief’s face when the girl he so casually threw away for trinkets came back with more wealth than he had seen in his life. More than that, that she was the one he had to bargain with for the other items he wanted. A black-hearted smile of slightly inappropriate joy in overly delayed justice arriving with bells on crept across his face and he called out, “Ok Elena! You can come see now!”

Tools of the Trade

Marcus was trying to get used to the new armor. He had spent a little time doing some light sparring with Davidson, but he knew he wasn’t ready for a fight any time soon. With the Roth brothers along with their crossbows, and Dr. Gupta with the flare gun, he really only had to delay anyone who tried to get in close. At least the armor would keep him from getting hurt too badly, and if it came right down to it, he looked down at the heavy crude gauntlet on his fist. He could always just fall back on what he knew and punch them. He sighed. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

He looked over at Elena and snorted a laugh. She looked ridiculous, really. Junk jewelry and an ill fitting flight suit, but from the way she skipped along you would think she was the queen of faery. Davidson may tell himself that he was sending a message, Marcus thought to himself, but I think he’s just using that as an excuse to spoil his new pet. Marcus couldn’t help but grin. Not that he could blame the man. The girl really was a sweet kid. Hard worker didn’t complain. Tried hard to learn and fit in. If the kids back home applied themselves even half that much... he let that thought go. It was the complaint from every generation. The only ones who seemed to have any problem with Elena at all were Dr. Young and Dr. Stone. They said nothing and never actually mistreated the girl, but Marcus could tell something about her didn’t sit well with them. Marcus didn’t want to think it was simple jealousy, but it seemed to fit. He shook his head; he was sure that he would never understand women.

He quickly put aside those thoughts. It was time to get his game face on. He could see the smoke trails rising from the cooking fires of the village. It was time to find out if they could get along with their neighbors or not.

Their arrival created quite a stir! Though they didn’t seem hostile, they mostly seemed scared of him and overjoyed to have Elena back. She hugged the chief, and an old woman who fell on her in tears. Maybe her mother? He wondered if he would ever get the hang of the local language. A whole horde of young people surged forward, but the chief let out a roar and they all backed off.

Elena turned toward him and spoke. The chief looked surprised, but then went over to the cart to see what was being offered. He kept glancing up at Marcus, as if to make sure that the giant would not object. Marcus had to steel his face so as not to openly laugh. He had been worried for nothing. The chief’s bully boys were watching him like he might decide to eat them at any moment.

Elena had to demonstrate the scythe for them, but once they got the hang of it all Marcus could see was heads nodding. Likewise, the knives were a big hit. Tea was once again served. Marcus chose not to drink, just in case. He didn’t think poison was likely, but trust could be earned over time.

While the men of the village were busy rounding up the items that Elena had bargained for and loading them on the cart. Dr. Gupta was off with the Roth brothers inspecting the small harbor, and Elena had disappeared with the gaggle of young people that the chief had temporarily quelled earlier. Marcus took his helm off and set it on the cart. This heat was miserable. He couldn’t wait to get back and get out of this damn armor. Marcus looked down and realized that a young boy about seven had finally worked up the nerve to approach. He was just staring up at Marcus, open-mouthed. Marcus grinned at him and then took his helmet and carefully put it on the boy’s head. He heard the boy grunt at the weight and gasp. He couldn’t help it. He laughed. The boy pulled it off and looked up at him and smiled. There was a loud shout from a nervous woman in the doorway to one of the houses. The boy jumped when he heard the voice. He rolled his eyes and handed the helmet back to Marcus. Marcus took it and smiled as the boy ran off, back to his mother. Marcus smiled and waved to the woman. The woman politely and nervously bobbed her head in reply and then chased the boy back inside.

A few minutes later, everything was loaded up. Marcus looked at the Roth brothers. He shook his head and started rigging up a makeshift harness from the straps that they had. “This is going to be heavy. It’s going to take both you boys to pull it. Once we’re out of town a ways and I know we won’t have problems, I can help too. Just take it easy, it’s a long way back to camp.”

Dr. Gupta said nothing but nodded at him and took his place at the back of the cart to help by pushing. Elena had a whole crowd of girls with her. Marcus figured they were just going to walk her out of town. Any way, it was going to be a long road, better to get started sooner rather than later.

We keep growing

What the hell

John was back in his loincloth today. With all the mud, he didn’t want to get the nice wool tunic Elena had sewn for him all muddy. It was pretty plain and mostly just like a long sleeve t-shirt that hung to his legs and belted at his waist, but he also had a nice pair of thigh high leather boots to go with it and overall it was comfortable. Certainly too nice for this job, he thought as he hefted another large gob of mud and straw up and smashed it into the woven branches of the segment of wall he was working on.

The Roth brothers had actually done a nice job of building little fitted stone dams walling off a segment of the spring for collecting drinking water, and then the run off pooling into a section for bathing that was deep enough to be comfortable for the purpose, and then a bit further down a good spot to washout clothes. For roughing it, it was actually quite nice. John had spent the last couple of weeks digging a channel to divert some water off to an actual latrine so that there was water available for cleaning up after doing your business. This had become ever so much more important as the toilet paper ration finally ran out. He was now working on his next project, an actual bath house. You know, with actual warm water. It had cost a bit of aluminium from the wreck, but it wasn’t like that was any good for making knives or armor anyway, but it wouldn’t rust under water, and was more than enough to make a snorkel stove. It was a real bitch firing the terracotta pipes, but he had running water with actual wooden valves. He could let the water in to fill the tub, heat the water in about two hours, and everyone could get a soak in the evening and then they could drain the water out and run clean water through to clean up the tub. He just needed two more days to let all the wet mud sealing it all up dry, and they could finally test it out. An actual hot bath. Maybe even with Dr. Young so she could show her gratitude, he thought with a grin.

Speaking of Dr. Young, he heard her calling for him. She was up on the other side of the bank. She had been cleaning the small doe he shot late last night. When he asked her to do it, she had complained about being left with the dirty work until he reminded her that she wanted him to finish the bath house. He poked his mud streaked face around the side of the building; she was just pointing down stream.

“What is it?” He asked?

“Were they supposed to bring back half the village?” She asked him irritably. “I thought we were trying to keep the location on the down low for the moment.”

“Uh, yeah... me too.” John was confused. Sure enough, Dr. Godfreed was returning. Only besides those who had left this morning, there were seven new people. All girls between the ages of fourteen and sixteen. John had to admit if they were going to have company, this was the kind he preferred, but he’d better go get the Commander. Davidson was probably going to flip his shit.

For Eli

Davidson was covered in sawdust. He had been working all day on trying to cut out enough planks for his next major project. He wanted to set up a modified DaVinci style crane over the cliff to recover as much of the wreckage as he could before corrosion rendered it useless. He still had hopes that if he could get the generators from the engines, and put enough of a gear ratio to it, he might be able to make a water wheel to give them some power. If he could get even a few of the computers up and running, maybe they could figure out what happened. It was slim, but it might be the only chance they had at getting home. Even if that didn’t work, a bit of electricity around here wouldn’t hurt.

When St. Claire came running up looking like the swamp thing, yammering about half the village coming back with the trade party, Davidson’s heart sank. For a moment he thought there was going to be a fight, but John just shook his head and said it was all kids. Or all young girls Elena’s age, anyway. Davidson was really confused. He wondered if maybe they weren’t able to get the things or if maybe something bad had happened to the village. He didn’t take the time for his armor, but he grabbed his axe before running back after St. Claire.

He had just made it down the hill from the workshop area, in time to see Dr. Godfreed, with most of his armor stacked in the cart helping the Roth brothers pull it along and a whole gaggle of girls behind it pushing. “Glad to see you’re back, but does someone want to explain this?” Davidson asked with an exasperated look on his face.

Both of the Roth brothers just looked at each other and grinned stupidly. Dr. Godfreed started to say something, then just shook his head, “Damned if I understand it either. This was all Elena’s doing, and none of them would be talked out of it either.” Davidson noticed that Dr. Gupta had a small smile on his face, but he made no move to get involved.

Davidson sighed. He walked down to get closer to them. He realized all eyes were on him now. Everyone was there, just waiting to see what he would do next. His brow furrowed. “Elena? Who are these people?” he asked as he gestured to all the waiting young women who had come over to gather in timidly behind her.

Elena just smiled up at him brightly. “For Eli!” she said, as if that explained everything.

Marcus snorted. “That’s all they’d say when I told them they couldn’t come along, like it’s the only English words that they know.”

Davidson rubbed his sweat soaked forehead. He felt the gritty sawdust grind into the slightly burned skin of his forehead, but the effort didn’t relieve the tension that had built there. “Elena, I don’t understand?” he told her and made an exaggerated, confused face.

Elena hesitated, and he could see she was trying to think of how to explain things, and then he could see her face light up as she had the idea. “Eli give Dorien for Elena. Elena for Eli.” She nodded as if this were just a known fact. She waved to the girls behind her, and they all showed a hand. Each one wore a ring that he had given Elena that morning. Eight rings total, seven girls. Elena had kept one and passed the others out. “Elena, give...” again she waved at them all, then she knelt down before him and said softly, “for Eli.”

All seven of the other girls knelt where they were and as a group said “For Eli.”

Eli was speechless. He had been pissed at the old man for selling his daughter. These girls all had the rings, they had all just willingly sold themselves! He didn’t know what Elena had told them. He didn’t know if they thought that they were wives, or daughters, or slaves, or... he just didn’t know what to make of this turn of events.

Before he could gather his wits, Dr. Stone said in an icy tone, “Well lover boy, looks like your dance card is full for a while.” She turned and walked off. Dr. Young close on her heels.

Behind him he heard St. Claire give out a long sigh, “That’s it, I quit!”

He knew John wasn’t serious, but he just couldn’t believe they were all acting like he’d planned this! Never mind, what’s done is done. “OK, Stand up! Stand up!” He reached down to pull Elena up. “If your new friends are going to be here, you know the rules. Bath time!” He pointed over to the creek. She understood the word bath, and she knew that her new family was fanatical about being clean. She would teach the others well. He would see! They would make Eli happy! She was practically bouncing when she came up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and then shouting at the others. They all ran off to the creek in a riotous chorus of squeals and giggles.

He turned to find no sympathetic looks from anyone still there. Godfreed even had the nerve to look downright envious. Only Dr. Gupta seemed to be unphased by the entire scene.

Shaking his head, a very frustrated and confused Eli Davidson decided that those planks weren’t going to saw themselves.

“Group Dynamics” makes it sound less messy

Eli stayed late, cutting in the sawpit. It was well past dinner, and the sky was really getting dark. He told himself that it was because this job really needed to get done, but deep down, he knew he was hiding. Hiding from realities he didn’t want to accept and decisions he didn’t want to make. All of them had been fine living in fucking thrown together lean to’s because they didn’t want to admit that this was home. They all stayed busy with their various pet projects and told themselves that it was useful work until... Until what? He sighed and put down the saw. Without a torch, it was pointless to go on, and besides, he really only had to cut a couple dozen more, anyway.

Just as he was about to attempt to put the saw away in the dark, he saw a torch approaching. In a couple of minutes it was close enough to see that it was Elena and one of the new girls. They had a tray of food. He just smiled at them. “Thank you. I could have gotten that when I got back.” Eli motioned for the new girl who had the torch to follow him. He used the light to put away his few tools, then went back and sat down on a log and took a deep sigh. He said the brachot, something he had gotten out of the habit of of late, and then ate his meal. The girls weren’t much for conversation, not knowing the language, but they would giggle from time to time. And if he were honest, it was the best dinner company he had had in a long time. He knew there were many who would have plenty of negative things to say about his situation. He was just too tired to care at the moment. There was something, if not innocent or pure, about this, at least good. No hidden motivations or power struggles. The war of the sexes was a thousand years away if it ever became a thing at all in this world. He spit the last olive pit out into the darkness, drawing another set of giggles from his companions. He smiled. Two young ladies making a man’s life better, who at least marginally had made theirs better. Why couldn’t it be as simple as that?

He stood up and walked with them back down the hill. They wanted to accompany him to the bath area, but he fended them off. He wasn’t quite ready for that. He was coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t an old man anymore, and that as much as he loved his wife, he wasn’t going home again short of a miracle. Maybe he just needed time.

He wondered when they were going to figure out a good option for towels. Trying to climb back into a flight suit while still half wet really sucked. He was thinking this as he made his way back to the lean to’s. That’s when he noticed that his was full. He looked around and everyone was in their own, except that Dr. Stone seemed to be missing, as Dr. Young was alone sitting out front of their lean to by the fire across from his. His was packed, all the girls laying on their sides, with only their upper bodies actually in under cover and their legs and feet all laying out exposed to the elements.

Noticing his frown, Dr. Young said dryly, “For Eli.” then she rolled over and turned into her lean-to.

Eli sighed. She was being unreasonable, but it didn’t matter. Tomorrow he would figure out what to do. Tonight he was tired. He just saw the small spot that had been left open for him and he crawled in. He soon felt two soft bodies press in from each side. The one from behind put her arm under his and over his side to rest on his chest. She whispered, “For Eli.”

Davidson just snorted. “Sleep” he whispered. Then tried to do just that. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hard. The long and trying day had gotten the better of him. He drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep. Then suddenly he was back in flight school. He was stuck in class and had to use the head. He was trying to hold it, but the instructor kept going and going. Finally, it was over and they were dismissed. He headed out the door and down the hall. The latrine was out of order. Damn! He ducked outside and between the barracks. He found a spot between two dumpsters and had just undone his fly when the base commander walked by. Eli snapped to attention and threw a salute with his private private standing at attention and saluting as well. In shock, he woke up. He wasn’t the only one awake. There were two pairs of soft hands gently exploring his sleeping body. Davidson snorted, Damn it, where was this shit when I was seventeen. He got up and stumbled toward the latrine to relieve himself.

If he went back, he knew he might do something he wasn’t quite ready for just yet. He wrote a quick note asking the guys to all give him a hand in the sawpit in the morning. He stopped to leave it by Godfreed’s lean to and was surprised to see Dr. Stone’s feet sticking out of it. With a small smirk, he left his note and moved on up. There was still time to get a couple of hours sleep before sunrise.

Preparing Foundations

Working Together

Sam was a little irritated that his day was being planned. He had mostly finished up his last project so wasn’t sure what he was going to be doing today, but he was sure he didn’t want to be fucking Davidson’s fetch and carry boy. Why couldn’t he use some of his damn harem for that if he just needed the extra hands? As bad as bad as Sam hated to admit it, at least some of those girls were at least as strong as his new, younger body.

Still, as frustrated as he was with Davidson, and really just the situation in general he had to admit when he was being honest about it, by the time he was done with breakfast and up the hill with the others Davidson was already hard at work in the saw pit turning logs into planks. From the looks of it, he’d been at it since dawn. Sam heard a giggle and looked behind him. Elena, one of the new girls, and Dr. Young were coming up behind him. The new girl was bringing up a tray of breakfast. Sam sighed. No one ever bothered to bring him breakfast if he missed it.

Davidson looked up and, seeing everyone approach, he stopped, put down the saw, and picked up his water bottle. He took a seat on the last log, waiting to be cut. “Come on folks, gather up for a sec.”

Sam looked over to Josh and saw his brother roll his eyes, too. Yeah, here came another speech. That’s what they needed. It is why he was a bit surprised when, after taking his breakfast tray, Davidson just opened up with an exasperated, almost ragged laugh. “Fellas, Y’all lookin’ at me like I planned this.” He shook his head. “I was tryin’ to hold on to a life with a wife that I love very much and three children, and two grandchildren I miss every minute of every day.” The emotion on his face was raw. Sam wasn’t good with emotion, but he hurt for the man’s loss. He didn’t really have anyone back home. He only had his brother, and his brother was at least with him. He never really had thought about what the others had lost.

Sam didn’t have time to fully process this because Davidson continued at that point. “Trying to hold on to it.” he nodded. “But that is just denial of reality.” He gave a deep sigh, and Sam could see him wrestling with his emotions. “Barring some great miracle. That world is closed to us. We can be happy that at least they live on, but not as a part of our lives. For us to be whole and healthy people, we will need to accept that.” He sniffed and straightened his posture. “That I am no longer closing in on becoming a senior citizen or retirement, doesn’t mean I love my grandchildren any less. Nor does the fact that my new life has certain, eh,” he hesitated looking over at Elena who was watching him intently with concern clear on her face," opportunities, mean that I cherish the time I spent with my wife any less." He rubbed both hands over his face before looking up at them. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about these young ladies. One or all.” He said in a flat voice and looked meaningfully at Dr. Young as he said the last part. As he looked back over the others, he continues, “What I do know, is that I’m not an old man anymore and ignoring them is foolish on many levels. If any of them want to wander off with any of you, I will not be the least bit angry, but it damn well better be because of your sparkling personalities and not because of coercion or some such. Remember, if they’re not interested, this too is not the end of the world. The big fall harvest festival is in just a few weeks if I’m understanding the girls right. They all want to go, and I think that we all should go. Both villages meet there, spring and fall. It will be a good time to find out what else there is on the island. Be adults about this people. There are too few of us to let petty jealousy drive us apart.” He looked again at Dr. Young and oddly at Dr. Godfreed. Sam wasn’t sure exactly what that was about, but decided he would keep his eyes open a bit more.

Davidson picked up his tray of food as if preparing to eat it, “Last quick matter before I shovel in some food and we get back to work... Winter is coming, and while probably mild, it is still probably more than we want to deal with in lean-tos. So with that and the addition of extra people, I want us to focus on getting at least the central stronghold built. To this end,” he turned to Dr. Young, “please ask Dr. Stone to get the girls gathering stones from the stream with the handcart and piling them over by the build site. She should be in a fairly good mood this morning considering, she should be able to supervise them without being an insufferable bitch to them.” he said rather pointedly. Sam saw the anger flash in Dr. Young’s eyes, but then her face reddened and she only nodded. Davidson just continued, as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said. He didn’t even seem to notice the smug look on Dr. Godfreed’s face. Sam realized that he really needed to pay more attention to what was going on around him. “I number all this lumber. If you guys can help me by getting it up to the crash site while I cut these last few pieces, we should be able to assemble it tomorrow. If everything goes according to plan, this baby should be a modification of DaVinci’s crane. We should then be able to lower crews over the side to recover the salvage that’s at the bottom of the cliff face, and also send parties to collect shells from along the beach.” He looked at Sam and Josh. “I trust that with enough shells, I can trust you two to set us up a functioning concrete manufactory?”

Sam looked at Josh. They both broke out in a grin. With concrete they could do all kinds of things. Things you couldn’t even think of without it. “Yeah, boss,” Sam said with a grin. “I think you can safely say that”

Davidson took a quick bite of his breakfast and washed it down, half chewed with some more water. “Then, unless anyone else has some other input? I think we’ve got a plan...”

Discussion of details was light at that point, and Sam wasn’t really paying attention. In his mind he was already designing a new tool, ok really it was an ancient one, but he was changing it for current context. He couldn’t wait to see how excited the ladies would be when they saw this...

No Shame

Anju smiled to himself. Seems Sam wasn’t the only one who was hatching a plan. Anju was born in impoverished India. This situation with these young women wasn’t really a surprise to him. He also was neither intellectually, culturally, nor emotionally, opposed to the idea of marriage being about wealth and standing. He knew that in this world his twenty century technological edge should give him and economic edge, and that should make him as attractive to many local women as Davidson’s square jaw, and wavy hair, or Godfreed’s broad shoulders and deep rumbling voice, and Anju would not be ashamed of taking advantage of it.

After helping haul up the numbered lumber, and helping to assemble the foot powered crane, he opted to move to the proposed site of their new home along with the Roth brothers, who were supposedly going to work on the new cement production facilities. Anju made the excuse that he would lay out the foundations so that everything would be ready to get started as soon as everyone got back. In reality, he just needed to have space to work on his opening salvo in operation No Lonely Nights. He had found a long threaded rod in the wing's wreckage that had been used to raise and lower the flaps. At just over four feet long and about three times as thick as his thumb, the hard part was getting it away, with no one noticing.

It worked though; he spent the morning of the first day staking and running string for the layout of the foundations of their new home. After that, he got right to work on his real project. With the basic tools of the workshop, he could use the large threaded rod and the heavy collar that acted as a ‘nut’ to run up and down it to become the main actuator for a large press. Whether olive oil, wine, or cheese, this should make the work of all of those ladies ever so much easier, and who would they have to thank? He smirked. Of course since he finished the press by the morning of day two and everyone assumed that the others would be up at the crash site at least another two days he decided to go ahead and start work on the rest of the outdoor summer kitchen including a tandoor oven a large baking oven, a small pizza oven and even a spot for a grill, griddle, and wok, if the metal components could be fashioned for it. He was just putting on the last decorative touches of embedding smooth river gravel into the surface of the clay to protect it when he could hear the other coming noisily back from the crash site late in the evening of the fifth day.

Growing and Exploring

Davidson looked over at all that they had accomplished. They really had collected all the shells that they could carry back in a half a dozen trips. They had reclaimed and packed in under some aluminum sheets, all the wreckage that could be salvaged from the ravages of the sea. It had actually been a very productive week. Everyone had really pitched in and given it their all. He saw that all the tired faces around him had satisfied smiles on them. They all knew that they had accomplished something this week. Suddenly he was struck with an idea and even felt a little overcome with a twinge of guilt. “Hey everyone! Huddle up for just a sec, I just had an idea.”

It took a moment, but they all completed what they were doing and in ones and twos came by with curious looks on their face. Davidson smiled at them all. He really was proud of how well they had worked together, considering how much friction there had been earlier in the week. “First, I just wanted to say thank you everyone for a fantastic job. I really appreciate everyone pulling together and putting in all the hard work. I had originally planned on starting to haul all of this back in the morning...”

John St. Claire interrupted him, “Uh oh folks, here it comes,” but he had a big smile on his face when he said it. All of those who could understand English laughed at this. Even Davidson gave a soft chuckle. The girls who couldn’t understand what was being said just smiled, kind of blankly understanding that someone had said a joke.

Davidson shook his head. “No Johnny, normally you’d be completely right, but I realized since we got here I’ve been so into survival mode that I’ve completely set something slip. I haven’t observed the sabbath since I’ve been here and none of the rest of you’ve actually had a day off either.” He shook his head. “Now, I’ve long since lost track and couldn’t tell you what tomorrow actually is, but as of now, I’m officially declaring from sunset,” he looked at the sky, “in about three or four hours, until sunset tomorrow is the seventh day and everyone has the day off. Enjoy it how you will!” He grinned widely as they looked at each other then let out a cheer. “As for me, I think I’m going to do a little exploring along the beach, so last work I have for anyone, please let us down the lift?”

Godfreed’s smug smirk was frustrating for Davidson as he lowered him and his eight young ladies to the rocks far below. Davidson shook it off. He smiled at them and waved at for them to follow as he led the way. He cleared the cliff area to where the beach opened up. This way, as the tide rose, they would find themselves truly cut off from the others. As much as it was possible to be on this small island, they were truly alone.

Eli was looking out to sea for a bit, just watching the sun glinting off of the waves. He was remembering a trip he had taken with his wife on their second anniversary to Corpus Christi; they had decided to start their family on that trip. Drawing strength from that memory, and finally confident that he wasn’t betraying, he turned to find eight lovely faces all staring at him expectantly. He couldn’t help it. He laughed, laughed so hard. It felt so good after so long. He took Elena’s face gently in his hands and kissed her softly on her forehead. “I’m not crazy, I promise. We do need to talk though.” He took her hand and gently led her over into the shade of a tree. The others following. Now that he had their attention, he pointed to her, and to himself. Then to himself and to each of the other girls in turn and showed words coming out of their mouths and then shook his head and left a confused look on his face. The girls all nodded. They understood the problem. Then he pointed from one to the other and pointed that they come together, and then made the sign of cradling a baby, and shook his head. The girls all started to get upset. A couple of them actually started to cry. He raised his voice “Wait!” That startled them, but he continued on gently pointing from himself to each of them, then showed talking and understanding. Then showed coming together and cradling the baby and shrugged his shoulders and tried to look hopeful. All around the circle of ladies, understanding dawned and he could see that they saw the wisdom of this, but he could also see the open disappointment on their faces. It was such that Eli couldn’t help but laugh.

They looked up at him almost accusingly. They thought that his laugh was mocking them. He just smiled. “Oh, you girls are just so innocent. This is going to be so much fun.” He took two fingers and pushed the corners of one of the girl’s lips up into a smile. She couldn’t help but laugh at his antics and, of course, the others laughed at this, too. “I just said we can’t be making babies. There is so much more to teach you ladies about.” He chuckled to himself as he stood up and shucked off his boots and tossed his flight suit under the tree and went running for the surf, whooping like a wild man.

It didn’t take long before he turned and was greeted with a wonderful sight of eight lovely naked forms running across the sand whooping in an imitation of him, headed for the waves.

By the time they rejoined the others late in the afternoon the following day, the ladies horizons had broadened as to the alternatives to being with him and even each other, after all even at his age recharge time was a real thing, then they had ever dreamed possible just twenty-four short hours before. Georgia and Evita couldn’t help but notice the change in them. They weren’t nearly as timid as before, nor as unsure of their position in the group. They seemed much more confident, but it wasn’t anything that they could put their finger on. Still after discussing it they both agreed something had definitely changed.

No Place Like Home

All coming together

Davidson had been concerned about wasting the time on it, considering that winter was coming. Looking back on it now, he was glad he had let the Roth brothers talk him into their idea of making two archways in each foundation large enough that a man could crawl through below ground level and mark them on the wall above. They were convinced that after the dams were in place and with enough concrete, they could use some parts from the wreck to create a ram pump to pump water up through concrete pipes to a water tower and supply running water for both indoor plumbing and eventually irrigation. At least to their stronghold and any surrounding out buildings and maybe even a bit more depending. At the time it had sounded like a pipe dream but as the sabbath was winding down for this week and he was looking back over what they had accomplished so far, it didn’t seem as crazy as it had at first.

The amount of just unusual things these people knew was amazing. He knew he had some eclectic knowledge rattling around in his head. With hobbies that included historical re-enactments you always picked up some odd but in situations like this oddly practical information. Of course the Roth brothers were simply freaks of nature with what they picked up as well as what they just semi magically seemed to “problem solve” their way through. It rose almost to the level of a superpower. Dr. Gupta and all of his work with solutions for the third world, made him a font of useful base knowledge. Most of the ideas presupposed access to small bits of technology that they couldn’t get, but again that is kind of what he had the Roth brothers for. He grinned. Those two never would have dreamed that in the near total absence of a technology base that they would go from public nuisance to humanity’s great hope.

Dr. Godfreed was the great stabilizing force. His physical size and aptitude for violence meant he was picking up the weapons training that Davidson gave quicker than most. His advanced years and Davidson reluctantly had to admit his sometimes all too personal acquaintance with life’s injustices had left Dr. Marcus Godfreed, an even-tempered and sober man. In another life he would have made an amazing judge. Here he was, just a solid mass that acted as both ballast and counter balance, steadying their little society. Never once fighting against a change in direction that Davidson saw necessary to make, but always making them swing out just wide enough to make it a smooth turn and throw no one over board. A rare talent, especially given the fragile egos involved in the individuals on the level that they were dealing with. It was one thing to interact professionally on a limited basis; it was quite another to literally live in each other’s back pockets.

Poor John, and the women, seemed to be hit the hardest. Even so, John St. Claire was rising to the occasion as a true credit to himself and his family. He was getting downright scary with that crossbow. John was now the principal supplier of meat for their crew. Davidson made a point of praising it regularly during meals. With some help from Melina, one of the young women Elena had acquired ‘for Eli’. He was even getting good at tanning hides. Many of their trade blades, tiny bits of wreckage, roughly hammered into a vague knife shape and pinned with wooden pins into a natural branch handle coated with pine tar and ash, and wrapped with wet rawhide that was then sun dried to shrink fit. They weren’t pretty by modern standards but when he sharpened up the first batch of them and put them in a makeshift butcher block in the kitchen, the way his girls reacted, you would think he had invented the dishwasher.

Georgia Stone too had come around. She could work with his girls, and yes, he thought of them as his girls now, just as they did, with humor and respect. They were teaching each other. While it had been Godfreed’s idea, and he had done the actual work, because Dr. Stone had supervised and showed its use the first time, as far as the ladies were concerned she got the credit for the small concrete quern hand flower mill. Davidson couldn’t help but smile. He’d been talking to Godfreed one evening about setting up a water wheel powered mill to handle all the grain on the island, when the man said they should make a small one in the meantime. Dr. Stone put herself in charge of the project, which mostly meant just standing over him watching him work then using it for the first time. So of course to his girls, she was the genius. To his credit, Godfreed watched the entire scene with tolerant amusement and just ate his fresh bread, and took a happy Dr. Stone to bed that evening.

The only one who still seemed truly miserable was Dr. Young. Davidson wasn’t sure how to reach her, either. During the last sabbath, while everyone was sitting around after their meal, he pulled out the “guitar” he had been secretly working on for well over a month now. It only had four strings so far because that was all the gut he had been able to spare from making bow strings and spares, though the way John had been at hunting lately he might have a full set before long. Because of the natural gut strings, he had to tune it a couple of times a night. If he played for very long but for an improvised home-made version, it didn’t sound bad. Anyway, everyone was up dancing. Godfreed and Dr. Stone, the girls, even danced with John and the Roth brothers. Only Dr. Gupta and Dr. Young didn’t dance.

He had asked Elena and the others about Dr. Gupta that evening when they had some alone time. It took quite a bit of miming and some humorous misunderstandings, but in the end Dr. Gupta was nice but too old; it wasn’t right to dance with him. St. Claire and the Roths were little brothers, Gupta was a man. Once Davidson realised this, they all nodded to show that they all felt this way. He wasn’t looking forward to having this conversation with the guys, but they really needed to know. The quickest way to hurt feelings was mixed signals. It meant that this harvest festival might end up being very important indeed. Modern “Civilized” man likes to see himself as above his ‘baser’ instincts, but that is just denial and self delusion. The Creator of the universe said it from the very beginning, “It is not good for man to be alone.” It is even worse for a man to be alone while seeing his brother with an abundance. `Eli knew in his soul that things as they were, was just a time bomb with the pressure building.

How can this be allowed to continue?

Evita was getting depressed. What was she supposed to do in this damn world? Her skills were useless. What good was a quantum physics degree in a world that thought the theory of relativity was related to the divine right of kings? She really wanted to cry. Georgia, who used to be so close with her, was now all ga-ga over Marcus Godfreed. She snorted. Well, she could at least understand that. He was a first rate mind wrapped in what was undeniably a first rate body. And she could understand what he saw in her. A mature woman who knew her own mind. She was strong and independent and both intelligent and accomplished in her own right. She wasn’t anything like those eight illiterates who just pushed their way in here with their “For Eli” and completely stole the brains of every man in the place. Since they came back from the wreck it was like twenty times a day each of them would point to something and ask “English?”. They all did it and it was driving her crazy!

The guys were all fawning all over them. It started with Gupta making that damn press and outdoor kitchen. The way they all raved over it, you would think he had invented fire. The only good thing as far as Evita was concerned was at least it still hadn’t gotten the little slimy bastard laid. She knew that wasn’t nice, but the man was what? Almost sixty? He may look nineteen, but that changed nothing as far as she was concerned. Davidson might be playing slap and tickle with them, but at least he didn’t go chasing it. He just didn’t resist when it fell into his lap.

She shook her head. Then the Roth brothers, with their crude spinning wheel. The way the girls acted, you would think that it spun the wool into gold. Too bad for the brothers, but at their apparent age the girls just treated them like favored little brothers.

She had thought that at least John St. Claire was keeping his wits, but she found out through Georgia that Davidson had been teaching him how to make the jewelry and that Godfreed had been helping him work on a hand full of pieces for the harvest festival.

Speaking of Davidson, even he wasn’t immune. As if them all following him around all doe eyed all the time wasn’t enough. Even to the bath! Talk about the scandal. For the next seventh day's rest, he pulled out a crude guitar he had cobbled together. As if he doesn’t have enough actual work to do. I like music as much as the next person but not only did those craven attention whores dance with St. Claire and the Ross brothers, but they danced with each other in some of the most lewd bump and grind kind of moves. She can’t imagine that they actually realized what they were simulating. It had to be something that Davidson taught them and they just went along with “For Eli.” of course. This whole situation is just completely out of control.

Despite it all, at least their new home was at least showing progress. One floor almost complete, this whole next week before the festival would be sawing beams for second floor and for the roof. As well as burning new batches of shells for concrete and gathering up even more rocks. They wouldn’t get it finished before the festival, but if things took a turn for the worse, the walls were already nearly three feet thick and taller than even Godfreed’s head. So at least there was that. She sighed and went back to gathering firewood. Between cooking and the forge and making the cement, it seemed as if there was no way to ever gather enough.

Working with what you have

John had been staying off the radar pretty much since Davidson finished Dr. Godfreed’s armor. Oh, he did his work and was always happy to help when needed, but given his size and appearance, it was too easy for the others to just see him as a child and react to him accordingly. Being the youngest pilot ever allowed his level of responsibility, he had been fighting that fight most of his life. This time, however, competence was an actual issue. If they were attacked, he didn’t have Dr. Godfreed’s size to leverage. Or Commander Davidson’s decades of training. He had a child’s body and twenty-one week advanced course in close quarters combat. That sounded impressive to someone who doesn’t fight, but to anyone with actual experience... it is just a good foundation.

He had been out hunting one day, honestly he had been out hiding, using hunting as the excuse, when he suddenly realized that he did have the foundation, and just like the missing hair on his balls, crying about what wasn’t there didn’t change a damn thing. All you could do is build on what you do have. So he started practicing with his crossbow. If nothing else, he told himself, he’d get strong enough to cock it and fire four times in a minute. Then he laughed because he realized that he had nothing to time a minute with. His watch had been digital and the battery, like all the others, had been drained. He shook his head, ‘no hill for a climber’ he thought. Four times a minute is just once every fifteen seconds. “Even your dumb ass can count to fifteen, right?” he said out loud. Smiling as he realized he was alone in the woods, talking to himself.

So that became his routine for two hours every morning. Cock aim, fire. Repeat. Four times, four counts of fifteen. Target fifty paces away. Recover your bolts, and do it again. After a week of this, he added climbing a tree. As any American teen, he had seen at least a dozen ‘ninja’ movies on late night tv. He improvised small bits of the wreckage into gear to help him climb. Cleats on the soles of his boots and in open fingered gloves that he could quickly slide on his hands. Soon enough, with some practice, and only a couple of close calls, he could reliably scale nearly any tree he wanted to. In this, his small size and lightweight frame were actually an advantage.

As his actual hunting improved now that his marksmanship had gotten markedly better, he began to work fancy bone and antler handles to hold just small slivers of metal. He didn’t want to take too much from the group’s resources for his supplies. Not that he thought that they wouldn’t gladly equip him, but he was enjoying finding out exactly how brutal he could make a weapon with only the minimum of steel to act as the cutting surface. He also spent the evenings intricately carving and engraving on the bone and horn. They were becoming not just damn functional tools and weapons, but legit works of art. He was taking pride in his accomplishments.

Finally, just last week, he had to bring someone else in on his plan. While Melina had been helping him work the leather for a while, really too bad she was so hooked on Davidson. Wonder if he knew how lucky he was... anyway, she didn’t realize that he was doing anything more than just hunting. So John was more than a bit nervous when, after swearing Josh Roth to secrecy, he actually showed off his skills. John couldn’t help grinning at the stunned look on Josh’s face. “Dude, you’re amazing! Where did you learn to do all of that? Are you like part monkey or what?”

John shook his head. “Really man, most of it is just simple skills and a LOT of practice. Once you have the muscle memory, it’s not a bit deal, getting the muscle memory...eh... not going to lie, wasn’t fun. So think you can help me with the chemistry?”

Josh scratched his head. “You’re not wanting something good enough to shoot out of a gun or a cannon? You just want a flash? Maybe pipe bomb level... you know where to get sulfur and of course guano is all over this damn island thanks to the seagulls... I’ll need to break our confidentiality agreement enough to bring Sam in.” he paused to see John’s response.

John just grinned, “Kinda figured that one.”

Josh just smiled back and shrugged. “I think it can be done by Festival time. Give us til after the winter and we could probably have you a matchlock musket. It’s just that milling gunpowder can be dangerous the books say if it isn’t done right and considering we’ve never done it before... kinda want to go in SMALL batches until we know what we’re doing.”

John nodded his head. “Yeah. Be safe. I don’t want our people getting hurt for this. I just want us to have an ace up our sleeve, just in case. If you can get me this ace,” he pulled out two small brass rings, they were old compression fittings that had been enlarged, thinned, and hammered smooth then a simple cross-hatch pattern scored in the face of them, “One for each of you to trade as you see fit during the festival.” John grinned at him.

Josh sighed. “Well the price is right. Let me see what we can do.”

As he slipped off to do a bit more hunting that afternoon, John couldn’t help but wonder at the mercurial and subjective nature of value. Two brass compression fittings mass produced on his old Earth may be worth a buck a piece at government contractor prices, but with a little hammering and prettifying here they could win the affections or at least the attentions of a young woman. His naturally sourced hand tanned naturally cured and died hand tooled belt and scabbard in this world, just a passing bauble, on Etsy back home probably $200 easy. Not to mention what a night with Elena or Melina would cost, he thought with a grin. He knew he should feel bad about thinking that but even if it was just a legitimate normal date, you could blow $80 in no time, hell you pay for it one way or the other, he thought.

Festival

Cause Every Girl Crazy ‘Bout A Sharp Dressed Man

Today was the sabbath. Everyone had it off from normal work but other than Eli Davidson who had been studiously forcing himself to “do no servile work” despite his every instinct screaming at him that with the big trip coming up tomorrow that there was too much to do to just sit here and casually contemplate life. He couldn’t even distract himself by talking with the ladies. They were all off in one direction or the other, seeing to some detail about their big day tomorrow. Oh sure, he could have put his foot down, and technically as the head of the house he was supposed to do just that, but Eli had always thought that leading by example was the better choice. He also knew that this was a big day for them. For most of them, it was the first time they were going to see their families again since they came to live with him. He had spent way too much valuable time hammering twisted chunks of scrap into long thin bars, almost wires of steel, and then twisting them into nice little circlets for each one of them with a little sea shell neatly affixed right over the forehead. They would have been considered cheap trinkets where he came from suitable for children, but the girls cherished them. He hoped it would let their families know that he valued them.

Anju Gupta was also busy. He had scored some metal too, and while he wasn’t the metal smith that Davidson was, he knew the concerns of poor families. He took this small square of aluminum and with it he made a trowel. He made some basic wooden forms. With their metal saws and drill bits, this was far faster and easier to do than it would be for the locals with their stone and bone tools. Storing just a handful of pre-made bricks and a box of wet clay on the back of the wagon, as long as one of Elena’s friends were willing to help him negotiate with the girl’s father, Anju was quite certain he would bring home a blushing bride by the end of the Festival.

Marcus was watching Georgia fret over what to take with a smile. “You sure you don’t want to just stay here and hold down the fort? Might be nice having the place all to ourselves for a couple of days.”

Georgia turned on him. “Marcus Godfreed! Are you ashamed to be seen with me in public?” she asked with a dangerous tone to her voice and only the hint of a smile to take the edge out of the accusation.

“Ah, now, Miss Georgia, you know better than that. I just thought...”

She interrupted him, “You just let certain parts of your anatomy do your thinkin’ for you.” She grinned at him. “We’ve been together for two months now, and you haven’t taken me out even once. Besides, this is supposed to be quite the local event. Do you suppose they sell dresses there? I’d dearly love to have something to wear besides this flight suit.”

Marcus chuckled softly. “You look good in anything,” he said as he took her in his arms. Then whispered in her ear, “better in nothing at all.”

Meanwhile Evita Young was packing extra strips of dried venison. “Who knows what food will be available. These people could eat anything. Probably like a poor man’s excuse for a backwood county fair. The whole place will probably smell like the horse barn, and that’s just the people...”

The Roth brothers were actually fairly excited. They had completed their task for St. Claire, and the results had been better than they had feared. With a couple of more weeks to work, they might even have been able to have had a crude working match lock musket. Still, they had received their payment, so between that and assurances from Elena’s friend Sapphira they knew that before the festival was over, they wouldn’t be alone in this world anymore. Sapphira seemed to think them a fine catch, even if a bit too young. They couldn’t help laughing at that, but she said with their ability to provide for a family, it shouldn’t be a problem. It amazed them at how much easier it had gotten to understand the girls over the last few weeks. Oh, half of it was still sign language, but damn if you didn’t know what they were talking about most of the time.

John St. Claire was checking over his equipment. Twenty crossbow bolts with heavy steel heads. Twelve assorted small throwing knives and darts in various semi hidden sheathes. Two full size grenades, based on the test he and the Roths did, the size of the charge he had packed inside those concrete shells would blow chunks of concrete fifteen feet in all directions. Probably kill out right anyone with in five feet of the thing on any side. He also had four smaller flash charges. Wouldn’t cause any damage, but for people who didn’t know what gunpowder was, he expected it to take them a while to recover from the shock. Two weighted bolos. His climbing claws. A bone grappling hook and fifteen feet of rawhide rope. The little Leatherman multi-tool he had with him during the flight never leave home without it. Last, his only obvious weapon other than the crossbow, an eighteen-inch heavy Arkansas Toothpick that Davidson had forged for him, hardened and heat treated proper. It was a fine weapon from quality steel. The old joke floated across his mind, you could tickle a man’s ribs with it for a long time before you could get him to laugh... He looked up as he slid it into place, all the gear tucked away, neatly disappearing from the view of the casual observer except for the knife and the crossbow. He noticed Melina staring at him, her eyes just a little wide, watching such an arsenal get put away on his tiny person. He grinned at her a bit sheepishly; he didn’t want her to think that he was looking for trouble. “Hi. I need your help.”

Her face brightened, and John couldn’t help but feel a little tug in his soul. She really was beautiful. “Melina, help John.” she said with a firm nod of her head.

John couldn’t help but smile. Confidence and enthusiasm, Davidson was one lucky bastard, that’s for sure. “Elina, get Melina for Eli.” John started. He pointed at the ring on her hand.

Melina looked at it and smiled again and nodded. “For Eli.”

John turned and fished in the leather bag laying on his bedroll. He pulled out two soft suede choker collars with quarters tightly stitched to them eagle side facing out with intricate bone fasteners in the back and four simple rings of hammered aluminium. He piled this small mound of “treasure” in her hand and her eyes grew big, “Melina get...” He opened his hands and showed that he didn’t know, “For John”.

His eyes met hers, and she could see his desire to have someone, to not be alone. She was a bit at a loss because he was so young but she looked at the small fortune of beautiful things he had put in her hand, and remembered how much better her life was since she had followed Elena out of the village that day. She could only nod. “For John”

When John had put that roll of quarters in his pocket the morning for the launch intending to stop at the laundromat to do some clothes before the weekend, he never would have thought that they would end up being this important to him. Considering that without a way to buy a woman’s attention given what the time regression had done to his body it would be at least a maddening decade before he could normally be seen as worthy, John couldn’t help but want to scream at the insanity of the universe. He realized that even once he had her attention and could command her presence, he would still need to win her respect for it to mean anything. He would still need to prove himself. It’s just that without this, he wouldn’t even be given the chance. Even with this, without Melina to speak for him, it probably still wouldn’t have worked.

A Most Unusual Festival

Chief Dorien had arrived at the Festival site for the opening rites early in the morning. It was past the lunch meal and Chief Teppo was asking in his taunting manner for the sixth time, “So where is this wandering peddler of yours, who sends giants made of metal to steal away all of your virgins?” the young chief chuckled at his own wit. Chief Dorien didn’t try to correct his wild recounting of the tale. Chief Teppo was a fairly young man who had a rather high opinion of himself. This form of mockery was his way of trying to always outshine his rivals. Chief Dorien let his urge to become angry subside, for unless he was very much mistaken, Chief Teppo was about to have a very long couple of days.

“In a hurry to meet them, are you, Chief Teppo? Little Elena says that they have made their home far away. Be patient. Perhaps they will come and buy up your entire village from you. What would you do then?” Dorien couldn’t help but give the incredulous Teppo a small sly grin.

Teppo snorted. “Our village would not be so cheaply bought. Though I must say, I would like a fine cloak like yours for myself. If they do not show, how many sheep would it cost me?”

Dorien was just about to say that Teppo didn’t own enough sheep when he saw the small hand cart appear in a gap between the bushes at the edge of the clearing. With a calm smile, he just pointed. “No need, you can bargain with them yourself. That is their wagon that approaches now.” He pointed off to the little hand cart he has seen on their last trade stop to his village. They had put on a strange new canopy since then. He squinted, uncertain how exactly they supported the deerskins that were covering the wagon. Surely the wagon could not be that full of goods. If it were, how could they possibly move it?

Dorien could hear Teppo’s voice catch with surprise as he saw the strange appearance of the little handcart, but not to concede the point Chief Teppo’s sneering voice began, “And yet I don’t see the metal gia...”

Dorien grinned openly, as did several others, as the word seemed to simply catch in his throat. For becoming visible now from behind the wagon was the slightly larger than six foot form of Commander Davidson, and the even larger and more stout form of Dr. Godfreed. They had freshly polished both suits of armor for this event. No, it wasn’t anywhere near a mirror, but the simple expedient of beach sand and olive oil and some elbow grease left it hard to look directly at in the bright midday sun. Dorien also couldn’t help but notice that standing directly between the two large men was tiny Elena. She scanned the festival grounds, selected a spot, and then pointed at it. The two large men didn’t seem to debate more than seconds. The two boys who had been pulling it moved the wagon in place and staked firmly in place. A young man not wearing armor took from the wagon long poles. He then went about using a metal rod the size of a walking stick to create holes in the ground to sink them into.

Dorien looked over to Teppo, Dorien who had thought himself accustomed to the stranger’s abundance of wealth was taken aback by using a solid metal digging stick, but Teppo seemed about to experience a gibbering fit. After three years of festivals with him since Teppo had risen to chief, Dorien had learned to overlook the posturing and grandstanding. This moment, however, he found highly rewarding. They removed furniture from the wagon before the poles were even all in place and the men in the heavy armor we able to finally sit. Elena and some woman Dorien had never seen before poured cooling water over the two men, and shortly thereafter the leather cover from the wagon was suspended from the newly erected poles to provide an area of shade.

Teppo seemed to finally have recovered his power of speech. “They seem quite efficient. You say they are just merchants? Not Nobles or Magi?”

Dorien snorted. Funny how less that five minutes had changed the tone of the questions. “They said that they were merchants, or at least that was the best we could understand. They don’t have command of our language, nor we of theirs. Their customs also seem to be different as well, though in exactly what ways, I couldn’t say. Only that in our first meeting I fear that I somehow offended their chief. He has only spoken to me through Elena since.”

Teppo sighed. “I’ve never seen this much metal used outside of the large costal city and even then it’s always bronze. I’m not even sure what you call this, it’s the wrong color.”

Dorien chuckled, “yeah, it holds an edge longer, and it can be used to cut bronze. I used one of the new knives to put a big cut line on the back of one of my buttons and barely even dulled the knife.” Teppo looked at him in shock, but Dorien just nodded. “It’s all true. Whoever these strangers are, they are more powerful than we’ve seen so far.”

Dorien was only half listening to Teppo making arguments as to why they couldn’t be as powerful as all that when he saw what he had been waiting for. Elena broke off from the others, trailed only by the young boy. She was headed to the festival’s main office. She would be looking to get an advance on one of their items, enough that they have operating funds while they were here. Not even responding to Teppo, Dorien strode off to meet her there. Teppo called out, “But they’re that way!” He came tagging along after Dorien almost at a jog.

“Yes, but Elena is this way, and she can arrange a time for us to meet them.” Dorien sighed.

Teppo snorted and spluttered, “You want US to make an appointment to see THEM?”

Dorien rounded on the young chief and for the first time since meeting the young man, didn’t bother to consider the other man’s need for pride or respect, but hit him with all the brutal honesty he could muster, “Yes you arrogant, ignorant, man-child! We are going to approach them like civilized people. We are even going to lower our dignity to approach them from a position of respect! Because those people can help our people!” his voice hissed in nothing near a whisper. Besides, if their treatment of Elena and the other young women from the village are any indication of how they treat those even most within their power, YOU witnessed it with your OWN EYES not even five minutes ago, were they not happy, healthy, and wearing more wealth than you or I? Even if we were to end up in their power, we would not be the worse for it. So alert your pet mage. Whether I am hosting them, or they us... You have dinner plans as soon as I can arrange it.”

He didn’t wait for Teppo to respond. He simply turned aside into the Festival Office’s main tent. Seeking out the chief organizer. He wanted to make certain that Elena had no difficulties in arranging the needed advance.

New Experiences

Different from my memories

Elena looked at the vast bag of clay festival tokens in her hands. Even last year at Festival, if she had dreamed that she would ever hold this many at once, but no, that wouldn’t even have entered her mind. Most years her father had given her two and in good years, her mother had slipped her an extra one as their little secret. When she got back to camp, she was able to give each of the primary members forty of the festival tokens. They each took them and looked at them, not exactly sure what they were, though Eli just divided them up among the girls and gave each of them five. Elena couldn’t help but smile, she barely restrained the squeal herself. She understood what the girls were feeling. This was more than any of them had ever had at one time before. It was a bit overwhelming. After all, three of them would buy a yearling lamb. Still, she got their attention and made sure that they knew their duties before she took off. She knew that the next two days would be busy for her and she wouldn’t get to play as much as she used to, but she still hoped to find some time to show Eli the festival. It was always so much fun when she was little.

So after making certain one last time that Sapphira understood what to do about Eli, and that the other girls understood to obey Sapphira. Elena gave Eli one last long lingering kiss that actually drew good natured cheers from some of the locals, causing Eli to redden just a bit, before she made her way to the back of the wagon where there were already a group of middle-aged men gathered and the Roth brothers were casually standing guard with their crossbows at the ready.

This isn’t shopping

About the second trip through, Eli realized he was on a schedule. One of the ladies would arrive with something for him to drink. Then she would drag him through the various little shops and booths for about a half an hour, before getting him back to the tent so he could rest for a half an hour, before the next of his lovelies would arrive and the whole process would begin again.

On his third trip through, he realized that something was off. Girls here didn’t shop like girls on earth. There were at least twenty little shops in this Festival and it wasn’t physically possible that his wife, daughter, or even granddaughter could have made it through all twenty of these shops, getting him back to the tent in time to rest. The ladies had helped him on with the armor, so they all understood its weight and were protective of him because of it. He had explained to them the dangers of not getting enough water, which is why they were always bringing him something to drink. He noticed that they were always giving a mug to Dr. Stone too, so she could take it to Godfreed. Still, that didn’t explain how they could violate the laws of physics and pass a woman through twenty shops in under a half an hour. What is more puzzling, no larger than this place is. Whenever he was out with one of them, they never ran into the others except back at the tent.

His fourth trip was with Phoebe, and it dawned on him. Maybe it was because Phoebe was the most naturally aggressive of his ladies, or maybe he just finally realized that if something couldn’t be a thing, then maybe it isn’t. He looked down at the tiny, dark beauty possessively clinging to his side. “This isn’t shopping.” He just said it, it wasn’t a question. “This is your victory march. This is each of you girls taking your turn to show off your trophy.”

Pheobe looked up at him with a nearly feral, savage smile. “You see that fat pig there? The one with the red hair and the black eye?” Eli saw an attractive young woman who looked to be just a couple of years older than Pheobe, and for a moment he was afraid that she may have gotten that black eye from Pheobe earlier that day. Before he could ask Pheobe continued, “Two Festivals ago, she married to friend of a cousin. I like him much. He nice to me, but she says no one can love me. She says I too ugly. Skin dark like the inside of a chamber pot, and family so poor, they no can pay someone marry me.” Even through the armor Eli could feel Pheobe shaking with rage at the memory. “My cousin says she had laughed I sell me you, but her husband gives bruises and master gives me crown!” The elation in her voice was so real Eli felt himself wanting to choke up . “Her husband gives pain, and master, um, makes me curl toe?” she asked.

Eli barked a loud laugh, “Yes, yes indeed my dear you do indeed make my toes curl.”

Phoebe nodded fiercely. “Yes, I will. Any time! I love you much!”

Eli smiled at her, “I love you much too.” He winked at her.

She led him into the next little shop. “Other girls too. Victory march yes. Talk English ok, understand better. Talk baby SOON.”

Eli choked and had a small coughing fit. “Ok, soon, but not here and not in public.”

Phoebe, just nodded, “No now, soon.” and then waved to everyone else saying something to them in Greek that was completely lost on Eli. His mind was completely racing on other topics now.

Justice and Mercy

John was wondering about the festival seeing the sights. He was tempted to enter a couple of the competitions but got distracted by a couple of boys about twelve or thirteen. They had slipped up on a group of older boys who were distracted by a group of girls. The two younger boys coated one of the older boys with a bucket of fresh tar and then ran off laughing as the older boy gave chase.

John wanted to know where they got the tar from. He knew that tar had a multitude of uses, and he couldn’t imagine that these two would spend money on the prank they just pulled, so they had to be finding it somewhere. If he could figure out where, Davidson or maybe the Roths could certainly figure out how to put that to good use. So he tailed the pair. Once they’d given the older boy the slip, John crept up on their hiding spot and gave them a good fright.

They looked angry but seemed to calm down once he started asking them about the tar. He could only mime it, and it took them a bit to understand that he wanted them to show him where they got it from. They talked back and forth, the older one seeming to try to convince the younger of something for a bit. Then finally he put on a big smile and motioned John to follow them. It actually was actually only a short walk to the tar pits. They were in a depression in the ground so he could have walked past it a dozen times and never realize it was there.

There was enough raw asphalt to handle projects on the island for the rest of his life. No guessing about it. This was a big find. John was about to turn and offer some of the tokens as payment for playing guide when he felt the hand on his left arm ease up just ever so slightly so that it could shift down to inch closer to the blade at his belt. The boys who had him were stronger, and there were two of them. Struggle as he might, there was no breaking free of this by simple brute strength. The situation became even less of a game when the younger of the two actually drew his knife from its sheath. John gave a long, exasperated sigh. He had been trying not to hurt these boys up to this point, but from his point of view, shit just got real. His father had always told him it was just boys being boys until someone pulled a knife or a gun, and then man decisions were being made and man consequences had to be accepted. John handed out the first of those consequences at that moment. Lashing out to the side violently with his foot, he savagely opened up the leg of the boy, holding the knife with the climbing spikes on his boot. The boy let out a loud cry of pain and released his arm as he stumbled back, still clinging to the knife. His shocked companion was slow to react, and John used his newly freed hand to draw one of his hidden throwing knives and open a long shallow cut from the bottom of the boy’s stomach to just below his throat. The boy squealed in panic and fear. Both boys now in a dead run back to the Festival grounds with John St. Claire in full pursuit as fast as his much shorter legs would allow. As the boys had just hit the edge of the crowd, John, who had taken out his bolo and started it in motion, released it at the boy in the back with the large cut on his chest. John never missed a step, nor did he slow as the boy fell, but ran past him after the younger boy who had his knife. Two of the men in the clearing had stopped the younger boy.

Seeing all the blood on the boy, and seeing the angry child behind him and the bleeding boy behind the child, they were confused. Catching his breath, John stood up straight and pointed to the knife still clutched, forgotten in the boy’s hand, “I just want my knife back.”

The men looked down and actually seeing the knife for the first time, realization dawning on them. The boy also looked at the hand clutching the knife as if seeing it for the first time and threw it from him as if it were a poisonous snake. But it was too late. Everyone had seen, and everyone had realized what was going on. The two men took hold of the now wailing boy. Two more men took hold of the fallen boy, who was beginning to wail as well. One of the older men picked up the fallen knife. He didn’t offer it to John, but he did gesture that John should follow them. The men moved toward the tent that was used as the main business office for the festival. John followed. It seemed the whole of the Festival was heading that way. Commander Davidson was approaching with Melena on his arm and a concerned look on his face. John shook his head, “Long story sir, but the jist of it is, two bigger boys thought that they could jump me and take my knife. It didn’t go well for them. I, uh, think we’re going to see the judge or something.”

Davidson frowned and whispered something to Melina. She nodded gravely and went over to stand by John’s side. “I make your talk for you.” A part of John’s mind couldn’t help cringing at the thought of a lawyer with only broken English, but he was mostly just grateful to have a native keeping an eye on things. Davidson had disappeared. John wasn’t worried, he knew the Commander was just rallying troops if he needed to make a point with some authority he would rather do it from a position of strength.

The “trial” was a rather quick affair. Both chiefs looked grave. The boys cried and blathered. John could tell by the look on the faces of the crowd that whatever they were selling, no one was buying. The chiefs conferred for only moments before they both nodded, and the younger chief pronounced the boys’ fate. Both boys let out a wail of despair. John looked at Melina. “What will happen?”

Melina looked at him and with no pity in her eyes she said, “They die” and she put her hands around her neck to show she was choking.

“They’re going to hang them!” John shouted. His high-pitched child’s voice not carrying the incredulity that his heart felt.

“Hang?” Melina made a confused face.

John made the traditional mime of the hanging man, and Melina’s eyes got wide and she nodded yes. “Oh, hell no!” John said as he started moving forward.

Melina put a hand on his tiny chest. She could feel his heart beating fast. She gathered her thoughts, “Is... uh.. must take a bath. Not take stranger to home.” John could tell she was struggling with the word.

“The rule? The law?” he provided.

Again she nodded rapidly, “Yes, the law.”

This time John nodded, too. Then he pushed her hand gently aside and pushed his way to the front of those gathered. In a loud voice he said “Excuse me” The dull roar of the room was silent now, and all eyes were upon this child in their midsts. He pointed to the two boys who hadn’t yet been hauled away, “Don’t hang them.” he said this and mimed hanging and shook his head in negation. “Give them to me.” again he pointed at them and pulled his hand toward himself as if taking them, then reached in his pouch and offered the two chiefs the last four Festival tokens he had left as payment. He was prepared to up the payment if need be, but he had nothing more on him. He just looked at them with a steady gaze and waited for their response.

They understood him, he could tell. The younger chief seemed like he wanted to just hang the boys, but the older chief that they had been dealing with said a few words to him and then shrugged, and it seemed to change his mind. The young judge said a few more words, then turned to leave. Melina came up to his side. “He say they for you. Give tokens,” she pointed to a middle-aged man sitting by a small table. “Boys brought to wagon”.

John took a deep breath and let it out. Damn, they were going to kill these kids over a fucking knife. Oh, he was going to rightly and justly put the fear of everything holy into them, but to kill them, that’s just crazy. “Thank you, Melina.” He went up on his tiptoes and gave her a brief peck on the cheek. He couldn’t help it. He always enjoyed it when she flushed like that.

What a party

Date Night Reflections

Georgia had been having a great time, and at the same time she wanted to just plain strangle Marcus. He was an incorrigible flirt. It wasn’t like he didn’t make her feel special because he did, but that didn’t stop him from laying the charm on thick all around. She hadn’t really noticed it before they got here. Maybe it was because all the women there were Davidson’s, or maybe he just hadn’t let loose but since he decided this was a party he was charming everyone from girls who didn’t know what that little tingle they felt was, to little old ladies who had forgotten what that tingle was.

She knew she shouldn’t let it bother her. He wasn’t acting on any of the many invitations he was getting; he was just collecting them and enjoying them. Then he would wander off to the next attraction with her. If this were Earth, she would never accept behavior like this. She didn’t know if it was the bad influence of Davidson and his menagerie or just the lack of English-speaking options, but she found that while it bothered her even here, it wasn’t intolerable. More like an irritating personal quirk or annoying bad habit. Was she slipping? Was she giving up her self respect? Or was she just deciding not to become a bitter old crone again, like Evita seemed determined to be. She had spent the entire festival alone on the beach with a bottle of cheap wine. The second village court magician or astrologer or whatever had tried to approach her several times, but she was haughty and rude to him each time. Georgia giggled. She had to give the boy an A for effort. Speaking of effort, she had better put a little into moving Romeo here along or this fish wife will be plying him with a third bowl of soup and trying for a side dish of a little more.

Free Food Usually Works

Dr. Anju Gupta had constructed his simple smokeless cook stove and with the help of Davidson’s girls working on a commission program as translators he was giving away tiny lamb kabob samples and showing off how clean burning and fast cooking his cook stove was and how little firewood it used. From housewives to fishing boat captains trying to keep warm a cup of tea to keep themselves warm, the crowd was packed. Two small lamb bites on a little wooden skewer were enough to entice the crowd to gather, and the stove did the rest. Of course in the finest infomercial tradition, if you place your reservation for the build and put down even a small deposit during the Festival, he even would throw in the specialty drying rack for free.

The stove really was a genuine improvement over anything they currently had. The prices he was quoting while high by local standards weren’t beyond the reach of a family as an investment for the home for a year, and the marketing techniques were new and fresh and had over twenty centuries of tweaking and fine tuning. Anju really only had one challenge left. After describing to Phoebe what he needed, and offering her two Festival tokens per qualified applicant, Anju sat back and focused on selling the stoves.

As the sunset, and the crowds turned from business more toward entertainment, Anju put the last of the cooked lamb on his plate and settled in to have his meal. Barely had he began when Phoebe arrived, four respectable men, their young sons and their marriageable age but as yet unmarried daughters in tow. He was a bit surprised; he had not expected to conduct this as a group interview, but she held out her hand expectantly with a smile and with an exasperated chuckle he gave her eight festival tokens and invited his guests to have a seat. He took a deep breath. Tonight was going to prove to be an interesting night.

Scouting

Sam rolled his eyes. He really wished Josh would quit complaining. This really was quite interesting. Yeah, the Festival was fun for a minute and trying to guess which of the Sapphira was finding for which one of them was no shortage of entertainment. Especially the one with the face like a frog that he kept teasing Josh was certainly “For Josh”. None of that could compare to the importance of this, though. John was right, this was something big. Here on the flat end of the island, the area around the tar pit was completely undeveloped by either village. It was right in the middle of the two and had the easiest path down from their place up towards the peak. Sure, the beach area was way too shallow for use as a proper harbor but light pleasure craft and for swimming it would be great. Put in a couple of little vacation homes where they could get away once in a while when all being cooped up together got to be too much.

John, who was scrambling up ahead, called back to them. Seems he’d found something more. Sam fought his way through the overgrowth and squinted to see if he could make out what John was so excited about. Sure enough, some small part of that segment out there was flowing liquid. How they would get to it was anyone’s guess. Josh must have come to the same realization because Sam heard him start to sing, “When up from the ground came a bubbling crude, oil that is. Black gold, Texas tea.”

Sam laughed, “Yeah, next thing you know ol’ John’s a millionaire.”

Josh piped up, “Hey we saw it too!”

John chuckled. “How do you think I’m going to get it out of there without you two eggheads on the job?” There were grins all around, but then his face sobered, “Seriously though, don’t say nothin’ just yet. We gotta talk to the boss and figure a lot of shit out before we’re ready to do anything.” Seeing reluctant nods of agreement all around, they finished up their scout and headed back to the Festival before they were missed.

Professionalism

Eli let out a long satisfied groan as Melina helped him unbuckle the heavy breastplate, and Phoebe and Sapphira lowered it to the ground. Sapphira gave him a quirky little smile, then made a little sniff and wrinkled up her nose. Eli laughed at seeing her face. “That has been a common opinion of my appeal after a day in armor. Fresh water is a little scarce around here, but” he said unbuckling the belt that held his leg harnesses in place, “there is a great big ocean over there and I wager I’ll smell better after a dip.”

The other girls came filing in to the tent at this point, each taking a portion of the armor, wiping it with a rag soaked in olive oil and carefully packing it away for the evening. Despite Elena’s suggestion, he would not attend their dinner invitation from the chiefs in armor. He knew metal conferred status, but they knew he had it, and it was heavy and it was hot, and he really hoped he could actually enjoy this dinner.

Elena came in just as he was finally finished getting out of the armor. She leaned in for a kiss, got a whiff of his smell, and wrinkled her nose. He laughed again. “Ok, ok. Point made. Let’s get a swim!” With a giggle, they all headed off to the beach. Eli was too tired to join the girls in the light-hearted sprint for the water, though it was fun to watch them. Elena had hung back with him. She, too, gave a tired sigh. “That bad?” he asked with a smile.

She sighed again. “Festival different from before. Happy. I important now. I tired now.”

Eli smiled. She had come so far from the frightened girl he had met just a couple of short months ago. Her English was amazing, basic, but impressive considering. The first wave that hit him in the face wasn’t the first cold splash he got. He thought back to his conversation with Phoebe. Soon. Echoed in his mind. He came back to the present in time to hear Elena saying, “Many people. Much remembering. Make hurt head.”

They were amid the other girls now and the others wanted attention as well but he couldn’t help asking, “Elena, didn’t you write any of it down?” but at her hesitant look he realized what he was saying. “Elena, can you read and write?” She hung her head in shame. Eli’s heart nearly broke that he had caused her so much pain. He took her face in his and he lifted her face up so she had to meet his eyes. “I am sorry. This is my fault. I didn’t get you the help you needed. Not your fault.” She dove in for the hug, and the others just swarmed in not to be left out. Eli could think of worse things to happen to you when you screwed up.

Unfortunately, the swim couldn’t last for long. He needed to get dressed in the flight suit. At least it had been washed before they left and hadn’t been worn under the armor. So while it might be worn and torn in places it smelled mostly ok. He looked at himself when he was done. They had been in survival mode since they got here. Eventually he was going to need to get a little more professionalism back in his life, he thought with a sigh.

For all the buildup, dinner was mostly uneventful. In general, anything on the island that didn’t have something built on it, or currently farmed, was considered unclaimed and fair game for whichever group that could develop it. They considered the actual Festival grounds off limits as they were for a common meeting, but neither chief seemed to think that was a big issue anyway since there wasn’t water here. It was the one ongoing challenge of the Festival. Every year both sides hauled in water for a week beforehand to support two-and-a-half days of the event and then it was over and everyone went back to where the water was.

The one interesting event during the meal was Magus Ries’ demonstration of “magic”. Davidson didn’t believe it for a minute, but he also couldn’t figure out how it was done. He saw what he thought looked like energy flow, but then he also saw a light glow from the man’s hand when he called for a light. All common sense says that it is impossible, but yet he saw it with his own eyes. Rather than call the man a fraud, Davidson countered by casually tossing a small pinch of the black powder he had borrowed from St. Claire earlier into the flame of the olive oil lamp on the table. The sudden flash and puff of smoke drew a gasp from everyone in the room. Including Magus Ries, who professed to being impressed and also at a loss. He openly stated that it was not magic, yet instead of denouncing it he proclaimed his admiration for Davidson’s skill. That confused Davidson somewhat. That isn’t the normal action of the typical confidence man running a scam that he was familiar with. He begged time to complete his hall, but invited Magus Ries out for Mid Winter as his guest.

Soon the evening broke up. Everyone was exhausted, as the day had been exceptionally long and eventful.

Babysitting

John St. Claire had just had a long day. Ups and downs, people trying to mug him and dump him in a tar pit. Having to save his would be attackers from a hanging. He rolled his eyes at that irony. He saw the two of them bound by heavy rope to the wheel of the wagon. They had been branded. He wouldn’t have wanted that, but he supposed it was better than being hanged. At least their cuts were stitched up. Someone also smeared them with pitch to seal the wound and hopefully prevent infection. These boys were going to have a very hard six weeks ahead of them, John determined. When they got the chance to be treated good again, he wanted them to appreciate it. He really hoped that this ended the problems. He wouldn’t spare them again.

He went along the small camp, ‘counting noses’. Godfreed and Stone were missing. John wasn’t worried, only a bit jealous. However, when he couldn’t find Dr. Young and no one had heard from her since she went to the beach this morning, he decided to play it safe and check up on her.

It was more than just a short walk along the beach. When this woman wanted her privacy, she wanted her privacy. He slipped into a sheltered vantage point to keep watch for a moment. Just to make sure nothing was amiss. His eyes adjusted to the light conditions more as the time went on. She was laying nearly naked by the fire. John wasn’t big on spying on women when they didn’t know he was watching, but he had to admit as cruel as fate had been to him turning back the hands of time. It had sure kissed every curve of the doc. She took another swill of the wine bottle she had in her hand. He scanned the area. He chuckled. That was the last of four. There were three empties scattered in the sand by her. Doc was hammered. Realizing that there wasn’t any danger, he couldn’t justify lingering and leering, so he stood up and began making noise as he walked her way. He wanted to give her plenty of time to notice him and cover up or hide the empty bottles or whatever.

She didn’t bother with any of it. She vented her complaints to the sky. She ranted about how unfair the world was. About her loneliness and that “it had been too long”. John really didn’t need to hear that with her luscious, sloppy, drunk body splayed lewdly over the sandy beach. He also knew that this was no condition to have her in if anyone else should come by this way. Mostly it just all pissed him off. This was the bitch’s own fault. The fucking time quake, or whatever it was that fucked his life up, just made her fucking gorgeous. Rather than find someone, she comes out here, gets drunk and complains about being horny. “Of course my dumb ass is going to sit here and babysit her all night instead of taking advantage of the situation, and just because I’m a complete moron”, he thought bitterly," I’ll leave in the morning late enough that no one else will find you and hurt you, but early enough you’ll not know I’m here so you won’t be embarrassed. Guess that makes me the chump too. Looks like both of our problems are self inflicted." Still angry with himself for not being either noble enough to not be so tempted by the vulnerable half naked form lying so near, or not being so villainous as to be able to avail himself of it guilt free. Trapped between these worlds was for chumps, he thought bitterly as he adjusted his trousers and tried not to stare. It was going to be a long night.

Everything Has Changed All Over Again

Finishing up the books

Elena was in a bit of stunned amazement. Each of the senior members of their little family, as she liked to think of it took a turn sitting in with her. She knew about writing, but she didn’t really understand its full power before that day. From the oldest to the youngest, from the most serious, to the Roth brothers, who were kind of in a class of their own when it came to such things as far as Elena could see, while each person was only with her for a short time the others could know everything that had happened before. They could know how many fleeces of wool were owed and when. Everything that made her head hurt trying to remember they could see on their pieces of paper.

Eli told her they would teach her, and all the girls, if they wanted to learn, arabic numerals, arithmetic, and double-entry book-keeping. He said it would make her more skilled than many of the merchants in the world; he thought. He said he couldn’t be certain, but when they began to explore the mainland, it might even be a service that they offered for a fee. Elena didn’t like the thought of Eli going away to the mainland. Maybe in she learned these things then she could go with him, she thought. She would work hard and learn them fast. For today, though, she just watched in awe as the marks went down on the paper and sums that would have taken her many minutes to count up were almost instantly given back to her.

Even though obviously suffering today from an excess of wine yesterday, even the one they called Dr. Young smiled at her. It seemed that Dr. Young approved of girls’ learning numbers. Elena didn’t know why being a girl would make it extra special, but if it made the woman nicer, Elena was all for it.

By the end of the day Elena had Josh count up for her a complete list of what they were to receive. She couldn’t be certain, of course, as no detailed count had ever been done, but she thought that number had to be about a third of everything that the island would produce over the next year.

When she told this to Eli, she was bursting with pride. She thought it meant she had done well getting a good price for his metalwork. It surprised her when Eli looked worried. He told her he was proud of her work, but the worried look didn’t leave his face. When she kept asking, he tried to explain that he didn’t want to take too much from the others at one time because he didn’t want anyone to go hungry. She realized that he really was worried about the others, so she said she could give some back. He just smiled and said that wasn’t good for them either in the long run. She was really confused. Even as she thought back on it now, it still seems strange. She could understand the words of their English pretty well, but sometimes that wasn’t enough to understand them. He had said that we, our family shouldn’t have to take less, we need to help the others to make more. That sounds nice, but there are only so many hours in a day. Only so many fish one boat can catch. So many plots of ground one farmer can plant and harvest. If they could just “make more” wouldn’t they already be doing it? She had really fallen deeply in love with her Eli. He was such a good man, but sometimes he had just gotten so used to being so rich that she wasn’t sure he understood what the world was like for everyone else.

Time to return home

Eli was packing the wagon. This had been one crazy couple of days. Between the two chiefs, and whatever the deal was with the “magus”, all of Elena’s business dealings, not to mention each of the ladies brought their parents by to introduce him. Eli shook his head. For all intents and purposes, seven sets of in-laws all on the same day. He snorted. Fortunately, he seemed to have developed quite the reputation locally, and the ladies were all happy, so the parents seemed to think he walked on water. Thinking back to the first time he had met his Rebecca’s father, Eli couldn’t help but grin. The conservative rabbi had not been impressed with him in the least. Even though this hadn’t gone as badly as that, Eli would be happy to be back working on his home again and out of the public eye for a bit.

John had untied the two problem children earlier that morning. He had been walking them around the clearing on long lead ropes like leashes. With few exceptions for necessities, they had been very closely tied to a wagon wheel for the last thirty-six hours. And since he fully intended to harness them to the handcart, John wanted to give them a chance to walk off any cramps. Melina approached John with a smile. John felt his anxiety dial up to eleven. He looked over and saw Dr. Godfreed standing nearby. He raised his voice for a moment. “Uh, normally I wouldn’t ask...”

Godfreed grinned at him, “Afraid I disapprove of the whole slavery thing?” John just sort of shrugged. Godfreed’s grin widened. “Yeah, kinda. These boys though, They’ve earned what they’ve got coming. Besides, if you actually harbored any real ill intent toward them, you could have just watched them swing with a smile. I’ll see to it they have a thoroughly miserable time until they’re back in your tender care.”

John couldn’t help but grin back. It was good when people had a sense of humor. “Thanks Doc. I owe you one.”

Melina led him off a little way. “I talk to you first. You lot liked.” She smiled at him. “Two like you. I tell no.” John’s face fell. Melina shook her head, “Bad treat like baby like you want mommy” John sighed and nodded his understanding. “Six still like” she scrunched up her face “much many?” she asked.

John thought about it. Like any guy, his ego wanted to say the more the merrier, but he knew that there were going to be problems at least early on. Six was just asking for trouble. Even Davidson wouldn’t have started with eight if they hadn’t just kinda been sprung on him, John was pretty sure. So he nodded, “It might be a bit much all at once.”

Melina smiled and nodded. She pointed to two, one on each end. A blonde knockout, and the other a tiny little brunette who looked like she might be a lot younger than the rest, which made John a bit nervous. Those two were already wearing the coin collars he had made. “Them yes much good.” Melina said, nodding. “Others?” she shrugged. “like you much. Like rich. Tell chief and chief do. Famous.”

John grinned, “Like me for all the wrong reasons, you mean.” Damn, women always knew these things about each other. Every time one of his female friends had tried to warn him he was making a mistake, and he hadn’t listened, he’d gotten burned badly. No time like the present to learn from your mistakes, boy, he thought to himself. “Just the two. Tell the others no.” he hesitated for a moment. “Melina, give each of the girls a ring too, then keep the other two for yourself for helping me. Thank you so much.”

Melina turned that brilliant smile on him again. She leaned down and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. “John good. Melina find good, For John” and with that she was off. He went back to the wagon. There would be time to get to know the girls on the long walk home.

Not far away, the Roth brothers were pacing back and forth. Sapphira had told them she would meet them here. She wasn’t exactly late, but could someone just let them know and stop this interminable waiting already. They were both facing the wrong direction when she showed up, so when she said something they both jumped like frightened children. Their faces turned seven shades of red as they turned and saw two young women with dark hair and dark eyes looking at them with concern. While not mirror images of each other, they looked very much alike. The guys figured it out at almost the same moment; they were sisters. Sapphira smiled proud of herself. Their father was a fisherman and had died in a recent storm. Their mother had financial troubles. Not having to maintain the two eldest daughters, plus what selling the two rings brought in, would allow her to keep the rest of the family together. Everyone wins!

Sapphira was very proud of herself. The Roths felt a little sick. They didn’t want two scared semi orphans who were sold off to feed their younger siblings! What kind of horror story was this? What kind of monsters did Sapphira think that they were? Both girls, not understanding what was being said, only seeing that the brothers were unhappy, thought that they were being rejected. This would bring shame upon them and ruin upon their family. They broke into tears. Sapphira was likewise confused. This had seemed like the perfect solution, keeping the sisters together because they were so close with brothers who were inseparable.

Hearing all the commotion, Evita came over, saw the girls crying, yelled at the Roth brothers and took the girls over and put them on the wagon. She was softly comforting them still as the wagon finally pulled out back to their home. Leading this time a whole host of new people and even more new animals. A large part of the payment was in sheep, goats, and even chickens. John even had the two miscreants harnessed in tandem, each one between two nanny goats pulling the handcart. Through Phoebe as a translator, John had explained to them, since they acted like animals, they would be treated like animals. Marcus Godfreed just hid his grin behind a hand. Georgia shook her head at him. Their views of child discipline were something they would have to work on if this thing between them continued, she thought.

Rain

Of course, between Festival and home, the heavens opened, and the deluge began. The long trek became a long, miserable trek. Dusk was deepening toward total darkness as they finally pulled in to the open yard before the half completed great hall. Everyone was doing the minimum required effort to secure the animals and equipment before seeking shelter for the night.

John tied his two problem children below the hand cart for the limited shelter it provided. The misery would prove instructive for them, he decided. He then led his two young ladies not inside with everyone else but instead down by the creek, to the small but weather tight bath house he had built. With firewood already stacked inside and dry, he quickly got a fire going. The girls looked at this little room with confusion. Then when he turned the wooden valve and water flowed through the pipe and filled the tub beneath, their eyes boggled. The fire warmed the room, and John spoke to them in a soothing voice as he took their clothes. They stiffened, but knowing this was the bargain they had made, they grudgingly gave them to him. He smiled at them and tried not to ogle too much. He was happy to see that the one he had thought young was, in fact, only very petite. Still, he decide until he was sure that she was at her maximum body size he wouldn’t risk her becoming pregnant. He took all three of their clothes and hung them out in the rain. Running his fingers through the water in the tub, he knew it would be a bit longer. Singing softly, more to have the soft rhythm than anything else. He lay the girls down one by one. John had never been professional level at massage or anything, and his new smaller weaker hands were unlikely to win him any prizes in that department, but having had no one focus attention just on them before it wasn’t long before first one and then the other had breathing that was deep and regular. Soon soft coos of delight as his hands kneaded muscles abused a long road trip, and soft, truly pitiful whimpers of abandonment when he switched from one to the other. He couldn’t help laugh when they both cried out as he walked back across the room to test the water. It was finally warm. Playfully resisting getting up, they let him slowly drag them over, but as they sank deep into the relaxing warm water, the guttural moan of pleasure was a sound John St. Claire hadn’t heard in a very long time. Restricting himself to only “heavy petting” tonight. He still had earned a whole new level of interest from his young women by the time the water was cold, and they had to climb out and drain the tub. Watching how smoothly it had filled, been heated, and then was emptied, both women were quite impressed with their new home. John brought back in their clothes and stoked back up the fire. They fell asleep entangled together on the massage bench.

The light streaming through the open door with bright and the morning breeze was sharp and crisp on his skin. The women recoiled, trying to cover themselves. From outside the door, he could hear the slightly embarrassed sounding voice Dr. Young. “Sorry John. Didn’t realize you were in here yet.”

He called through the closed door, “We can be out of your way in just a second.”

“Just helping the poor dears that the Roth brothers were terrorizing.” She called back.

He didn’t have the patience to argue with her. The Roths don’t cause people problems on purpose, their social skills are just not all there when there isn’t a language barrier. When they couldn’t even talk it out, forget about it.

Soon enough dressed they are out and blinking in the dazzling light. Realizing that it was already midmorning, they had slept through breakfast. Arriving at the summer kitchen he smiled at the ladies panic stricken faces. They had no idea how to cook on the stoves that were here. John put some oil in the wok, built up the fire, added some chopped garlic, a few chunks of dried meat from the clay canister on the counter, then whisked in two dozen eggs. The heaping mound of scrambled eggs which resulted was a big hit with the ladies. John had eaten his fill and the leftovers he fed to the idiots still tied to the bottom of the handcart. He wished he had time to settle things in more slowly here, but their house wouldn’t build itself. So stripping a pair of small switches from a tree. He harnessed the idiots up and started them pulling the cart, hauling the rocks loaded by Davidson’s young women. Putting his ladies in charge of the cart, he handed each one of them a switch and smiled. Swatting the taller of the two playfully on the backside as he wandered off whistling, he went hunting for Davidson. With all of these new people, there had to have been changes to the plans.

Winter is Coming

The Forge

John found Davidson working with Godfreed in the forge. Both men stripped to the waist despite the cooler weather, with sweat dripping off of them. The two men were working together on what appeared to be a very long blade. John chose not to interrupt them for the moment. They were obviously both busy shaping the metal before it cooled too much. Godfreed struck one last blow, then with a squint at the blade and a nod of his head he set the heavy hammer aside. Davidson sighed and used the long tongs to swing the heavy blade back into the fire. As he reached for the bellows pull, John waved him off. “Rest. I can get this much at least.”

Davidson gave a weary nod and didn’t argue. He took a moment to look to Godfreed before both men turned a knowing grin on John. “Long night?” Godfreed asked dryly.

John shook his head with an exasperated chuckle. “Not like you think. I’m trying to slowly introduce them to their new home.” He couldn’t resist a grin after a moment, though. “They do seem to enjoy some of its advantages.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts. No time to be focused on that at the moment. “I hooked up Baba Looey and Eeyore to the handcart, cut the girls some willow switches, put them in charge and sent them off to haul more rocks up from the creek. Then figured I’d better come find you.” He nodded at the fire. He wasn’t sure how long it took to heat up, but it had been in there a minute.

“Baba Looey and Eeyore?” Davidson asked as he checked the steel’s color.

“Yeah, from Winni the Poo and Quick Draw McGraw, because those two are both a couple of jackasses... anyway, it seemed funny at the time. Kinda like the names they gave us in boot. Figure this is kinda like that, six weeks up to maybe ten if they’re slow on the uptake, then we can get them back to being human again and who knows maybe they can even be useful one day. In the meantime, we can get some work out of them. No shortage of work that needs doing before the weather gets bad. Speaking of... any idea what ‘bad’ means around these parts?” John couldn’t help asking with a bit of a nervous twitter to his voice.

Davidson looked at the metal again and gave a nod. “Ok, enough with the air. Think you can work the tongs enough just to hold it steady for us, if I get it on the anvil for you?”

John took a deep breath. It was a sizeable chunk of steel... He shrugged. “All we can do is try, boss. What is this thing anyway?”

Davidson nodded, “Here goes then.” He looked over to Godfreed, “You ready?” Getting a firm nod back, he swung the glowing yellow, red bar of steel out and shifted so that John to take the long handles of the tongs in his hands. Then, with impressive speed and incredible rhythm for no longer than they had been working together, they set about shaping to John what looked a bit like a long draw knife. As the piece cooled too much to work properly, Godfreed set down his hammer, Davidson took back over the tongs and started toward the forge again. “From what they say, winter means snow is possible but light and short-lived, never lasting more than a couple days at most. So everyone, including the animals, will need shelter of at least a light degree. Shelter means not being able to graze so we have to put up hay. This,” he nodded at at the piece of steel they were heating again, “is the third of six blades of an automatic goat drawn hay mower.” He shrugged. “Once I have the prototype to fine tune, it’ll be harvesting wheat and barley by next fall. I hope. Unless I miss my guess, or this turns out to be a lot harder than it looks on the surface”, he gave them both a cautious grin, every one of them there knew that Murphy was an optimist, “We should be able to free up some people from farming, so we can hire them to work on the water wheels and cement factories, and mine the guano, and the oil from the tar pits, and,” he grinned as he waved John to stop with the bellows and get ready to handle the tongs again.

Godfreed sighed picking up his hammer, “And Georgia is talking about olive oil and lanolin soaps, and I overheard her with Elena discussing essentially taking over the whole island’s spinning with the new spinning wheel,” he shook his head with a smile, “To hear them talk, tycoons in the making. The list really is endless.” he said as he struck the first blow setting into the rhythm with Davidson. Talking kinda went on hold while the work progressed. Strike while the iron is hot took on a whole different flavor when actually smithing, John thought. His hands were killing him. They really were too small to control this enormous piece of steel with both men hammering on it, but he could see how much more work they were getting done with someone doing just this little thing. He wasn’t about to quit, but he knew he would pay for it later.

The steel goes into the fire one last time. Davidson stretched his back. “I’d say we’re almost ready for quenching and tempering, but that’s pretty useless. This is only mild steel. Though speaking of all the endless industries, Dr. Gupta said that he would stay back only two weeks with his new wife’s family, right?”

Godfreed nodded. “Yeah, long enough to have a small honeymoon and teach his new brother-in-law how to build the clay stoves. Never thought a man could turn mud into a small fortune like that.” Marcus couldn’t help but smile with admiration.

John panted out between bellows pulls, it really was harder work than it looked once you were at it for a while, “Yeah, but I remember now reading in the back before that something like seventy percent of people in developing nations had breathing problems from smoke inhalation because of cooking over open flames in doors. So MIT and some other big engineering firms all figured out ways to use local materials to make high-tech stoves to make their lives better. With all his work in the third world, it’s no wonder Dr. Gupta knew about the stoves.”

Davidson waved for St. Claire to back off on the bellows, “Well hopefully he can put some of that know how into arranging a heating system for the hall when he gets back. Besides, before this grows much bigger, we really should have a meeting to decide how we want to manage and coordinate it all. Everyman for himself is fine if that’s what everyone wants, but it’s a big world out there and with what we know, if we stick together we could carve it up nicely rather than have it swallow us.” the hammering then started leaving each man to consider that thought.

Proper Care and Training of Animals

Elena was stressed. Since she had traded for all the livestock, she felt responsible for making sure that it did well. She knew little about keeping animals, her family had been fishermen, but Sapphire wanted to use the new spinning wheel to make a lot of yarn to trade at the next Festival so she had been talking with the four shepherd boys that Elena had contracted to care for the flocks and they said that they would need hay for the winter. She knew that making hay took a lot of work, but they hadn’t even started, and whenever she asked Eli about it, he told her not to worry. She didn’t think that Eli knew much about animals, either. His family must be metal workers after all. He is so rich he probably just thinks that he can trade a knife for some hay, but trade with whom? Everyone who has hay will need it for their own animals. She couldn’t just not worry. She put another rock on the wagon and frowned. The two boys pulling the wagon were lazy and said mean things to John’s girls. She didn’t like it. Elena wished she could remember their names. Maybe she should talk to them. The thought no sooner passed through her mind than the larger of the two boys pinched the larger of the two girls on the bottom as she put her rock on the cart. Elena saw red. Before she could react, she heard the boy cry out in pain.

The smaller of the two had lashed out with her switch, catching the bigger boy on the side of his face. Elena was in a bit of shock. The smaller girl was not backing down, she was yelling at the boy and he said something nasty back to her. She hit him again and then yelled at him to take off his clothes. Elena was shocked. When he refused, she hit him over and over until he agreed. When she had both boys standing there naked and shaking with embarrassment, striped red with a dozen welts she hissed through her teeth in a loud voice, “Act like an animal, live like an animal!” then she went over to check on the taller girl. Through her shock, Elena fought to hold back a giggle. Several of the other girls weren’t so reserved but were pointing at the unfortunate boy and openly laughing. Elena couldn’t help but think that it served him right, but she didn’t think Eli would approve of them getting involved.

“Ok everyone, our home isn’t going to get built like this. This wagon is full. It needs to go be emptied.” She said pointedly. Only barely hiding their smiles, the girls got on with work.

Ignoring their pleas for the return of their clothes, the larger fair-haired girl simply said, “Pull the cart animal.”

Leaving the forge to get ready for dinner, John headed down and saw the predicament of the young men and raised an eyebrow. Knowing Elena had the best command of English, he sought her out. “Any idea what’s going on there?” he asked in an even tone, mostly just curious.

Elena looked nervous. She recounted the story of the crude behavior of the boys ending with his finally getting handsy with the taller one, “Hellena” John supplied. Elena nodded and continued, telling him that the smaller one, “Syria” John said with a grin, then decided that this was the best manner to handle things. Elena’s relief was visible as John let out a low chuckle, she had been afraid that because of his undeveloped body that he would worry that his girls had been taking an opportunity to explore, but it seemed he understood the situation and maybe even that he approved. She was glad. John was nice and deserved to be happy.

John nodded once, couldn’t hold back his grin, “Thank you, Elena. Your English has gotten very good.” he complimented her. “Much better than my Greek.”

She smiled shyly, “Will be better now”.

John actually blushed. “Yeah, I bet it will at that.” He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Finding the girls still driving their team of very miserable-looking jackasses, John suppressed a grin and just raised an eyebrow. Both girls looked down, not sure how to explain. John took Hellena’s face in his hands. Looking up to meet her eyes, he smiled a reassuring smile and was greeted with a look of relief. He moved over to the two, still in their harness. He just shook his head, laughing softly. “You two are a miserable-looking lot. Ended up sad, sorry, and sore, didn’t you?” he asked in English. He noticed the cut on Eeyore’s chest and noticed it hadn’t fully closed, was red and upon closer inspection was warm to the touch. “Gonna have to see to that after dinner, and no, you’re probably not going to enjoy it.” he shook his head and moved on to little Syria. She was only a little taller than he, he met her eye and couldn’t hold back the grin, “Act like animals, live like animals.” he said in Greek chuckling. She couldn’t hold back she bounced forward and kissed him. John was a bit surprised. While both girls had accepted his advances, even had obviously enjoyed his touch, this was the first that either of them had initiated any display of affection toward him. As he came up for air, he couldn’t help feeling just a little smug. “Eat?” he said in English and mimed putting food in his mouth. Both girls’ eyes got wide and nodded vigorously.

After dinner, the three of them went to check on the Jackasses. As expected, the cuts of both were dirty and while not badly infected they needed treated. He bound the boys tightly. Cleaning these would not be pretty, and the last thing he needed was to have to fight them while doing it. The girls both watched him intently. He washed the wounds, and there was much screaming. It would probably have been less painful with alcohol because even with the burn, it would have loosened the tar that had been used to seal it much easier. He decided that was a conversation to have with the Roth’s in the morning. The girls seemed fascinated as he ground the sulphur and charcoal into a fine powder. They wrinkled their noses but were curious. Then as he removed the stitches, dusted the entire area with the powder and applied a fresh tar sealant, they seemed to understand what had happened if not the why. In the end, when he released the boys from their restraints they were so weak from the experience they just dropped into a deep sleep. John rubbed his face as he realized it had been a long day for him as well. He looked up as he heard the girls whispering something to each other and giggling. “Ok, what is it? What are you two up to?” he asked with a smile.

The girls just replied with one of the few English words that they had picked up “Bath?”

John couldn’t help it, he just laughed... “All right, you talked me in to it. Let’s go.” He let them drag him off to the bathhouse.

Growing Pains

Been on this road before

Eli washed in the cold rain catchment pond up by the forge. It wasn’t as relaxing as a proper bath, but it got rid of the grime before he went home. He had spent the last three days hammering out blades and fasteners for his harvester. He got home late, and the girls were usually asleep already. Except for Elena and Phoebe, who seemed to enjoy using the quiet later hour or so in the evening to plan for the next day. Eli was looking forward to the sabbath this week. All the girls were looking worn and tired.

John had put his team on light duty for a day, said they were fighting an infection from their wounds, and had taken them to boil sea water for salt. So he had sent Godfreed down to operate the giant see-saw lift that the Roths had rigged up to lift rocks up for adding rock to the second floor. Sounded like progress was good but everyone seemed worn down. There was some kind of quarrel between Dr. Stone and Dr. Young. Eli wasn’t clear on the details and Godfreed seemed to think it would blow over, but the friction was causing unneeded tension.

Privacy was also more rare than gold. He sighed. Everyone had someone now, then he thought of Dr. Young and amended that, almost everyone, that they wanted to be alone with, and even though the Hall was big enough for them all, even when the walls were done and the roof was on, the interior would be mostly open. Putting up interior walls in a world without sawmills or cheap nails, wasn’t likely to be quick or horribly sound proof. They really didn’t have time to be making individual houses, either. Between finishing the Hall, and the barns, the various necessary shop spaces... he sighed. Time for individual houses, even very simple ones, was a very long way off. At least, the girls assured him, training the goats to pull had been progressing well. Though when he was going to have the time to make more wagons, he hadn’t the faintest idea.

John opened the door to the Hall and blinked. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts; he didn’t even consciously remember walking home. John shook his head. It had been a long week and there were still two days left. He made his way in past the mud room/gate room entrance, the term he used depended on if he was discussing security with Godfreed, St. Claire, and the Roths, or if he were explaining the ease and convenience of his design choices to Doctors Stone and Young. No reason to worry them after all, he thought. Either way, he came into the main room and could feel the tension in the air. On one side of the room were his ladies all seemingly very upset and seemingly pointedly NOT talking to each other, and on the other side of the room was everyone else, seemingly very interested in whatever they were doing and NOT noticing. Eli suppressed the forlorn sigh he very much wanted to express and went over, giving each of them a light kiss of greeting.

They returned his kiss but remained sullen. “Ah shit,” he thought to himself. “This is never good. They don’t seem to be mad at me... still... no peace until it’s handled...” again he suppressed the sigh. Out loud he said, “So I can tell everyone is excited. Who wants to be the first to tell me about their day?”

The silence was deafening. The other side of the room exchanged incredulous looks with each other. The silence was only broken when little Syria spoke up. She looked at John, “Bath?” The entire room erupted in laughter. Even Eli noticed with relief that his girls were fighting back smiles. Especially when John just grinned, took her hand and then grabbed Helena’s and headed for the door.

Georgia looked over to Godfreed, “Should we...” she began.

“Check on that, think?” he offered with a sardonic smile.

Giggling, she just said, “Yeah, something like that.”

The others didn’t bother with lame excuses. They just smiled and nodded and all found somewhere else to be for a little bit. Even Dr. Young walked out, just shaking her head. When the room was empty Eli let out a long tired sigh, “Ok, lets have it! What’s wrong.” At first, no one said anything. Then everyone was trying to talk at once. When he finally established some order to the situation, it all seemed to come down to they were worried, they were tired, they each had their own projects and their own troubles because of that, and that made them feel alone in dealing with it, they missed him, and instead of turning to each other for help, they kinda felt like the others only cared about their own problems. As a husband, father of a daughter, especially through those stormy teenage years, he shied away from that thought, not wanting to dwell too much on ages considering, and grandfather to very precocious granddaughters, these were all issues he had heard before. While on the surface, he looked very serious as he listened to them. He already knew what he needed to do. Oh, the solution would anger the likes of Dr. Young, and probably Dr. Stone as well, though she might grudgingly admit that it would work, not likely reality, doesn’t invalidate it. Prescription for what ails them? Orgasm for tension relief. Reassurance for confidence boost. Little bit of intimate time spent to reaffirm personal commitment and strengthen a sense of security. Lastly bit of team building effort, so that they reach out for help from each other. After all, there’s a lot more of them than there are of me, he thought with a chuckle. Probably smarter too if I’m honest, I’ve just been down this road before, and I’m better at being decisive. Even a shaky plan decisively executed can win out over a perfect plan hesitated over.

In that spirit, he laughed and told them all that he loved them. That he knew how hard that they had all been working. That he was sorry he had been away, but that he had been working on a surprise that would solve a lot of what they were worried about. Eli could see them visibly relax. He said that of course they all cared about the others; it was just hard to focus on somebody else’s belly ache when a bumble bee just flew down your shirt. He made a buzzing sound and playfully nipped at Melina’s left breast. This brought giggles all around as she playfully dodged out of the way. Over acting just a bit, he put on a thoughtful expression, then as if the idea just came to him he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “Tonight, when everyone goes to sleep,” he made eye contact with each one of them bringing them in on the ‘plot’, he almost laughed as he watched them lean forward intently, “Each of us will, um, ENJOY ourselves,” he waggled his eyebrows as he put extra emphasis on the word, again giggles erupting all around, “but since we can’t wake the others, we each not only have to help enjoy, but we have to help them be quiet too.” He left that challenge hang in the air. He couldn’t help but smile. Ok, no corporate trainer back on Earth could have ever gotten by with it, but as team building went, you couldn’t beat it.

The others slowly drifted back in over the next hour. It surprised them to see the Davidson clan as close as ever. In the end, though everyone was just happy to have a little peace and quiet. Quarters really were too close for overt strife. It quickly became unhealthy.

In the morning, John noticed Davidson looked like death warmed over. He said nothing but when the boss told him he needed four dozen tipi poles cut and stripped before next week he just figured that the boss had been laying awake all night hatching some new scheme.

It Must be Magic

Josh watched the last of the embers die. He was so tired of making concrete. They had been gathering firewood and hauling seashells for two weeks now, but with this last batch they should finally have enough to finish off the second floor, and once the timbers were all in place, pour the roof. Three inch thick wooden planks, with two inches of reed thatching over it, coated with tar for waterproofing and a coating of sand to affix the tar, then a three inch thick concrete slab over that. As long as it didn’t crack, it should be waterproof, and fire resistant, and last for fifty years.

He wanted to think that meant he wouldn’t have to burn a new batch of concrete for a long time, but he knew better. Damn Davidson was already drawing up designs for projects... hell, he didn’t know where they would get that many seashells. He was just about to become truly depressed as Sam came bounding through the door. “Ha, ha! First batch, success!” He was all but dancing. “Here. Have a taste.” He passed over the small clay cup to Josh. “But only a sip, mind you. Careful it’s potent!”

Josh started to take a drink, but the fumes burned his nose! This smelled like paint thinner. He took a sip. Ugh! He wished it tasted like paint thinner. “Sam! This stuff is awful!”

Sam grinned at him. “Test batch. Proof of concept. Raw. Only one distillation. And definitely not aged. With a little work, the actual product will be much better. With the material Davidson authorized and say ten men, I estimate production at ten thousand gallons a year.” He thought for a moment, “That’s at Eighty Proof, so multiply that amount if we dilute it with local flavors once it has reached its destination.” Sam shrugged. “Don’t know what that means in terms of real money but now that Agatha and Chloe aren’t scared of us anymore and are actually talking to us, it can’t hurt for them to know we’ve got another way to make money, eh?”

Josh nodded. Sam had a point there. He still didn’t understand how the other guys found these women who were throwing themselves at them, but he and Sam still ended up in this mess. Life just wasn’t fair sometimes. Even St. Claire, who looked like a runt now, ended up with TWO! How did a thing like that happen? Josh shook his head. “Well, good that it’s done. Boss is planning to test his contraption today. If it works, they should be able to harvest a lot more grain and the only way it makes sense to do that is if we can squeeze it down into booze to make it cheaper to ship to the mainland.”

Sam grinned, “Maybe I’ll go to the big city open me a speak easy, be a regular Al Capone” Josh just snorted at him and turned back to empty the freshly made cement into a box and seal it up with tar so it wouldn’t get wet until they needed it. Letting a bit of damp waste all that work might make him cry.

Up in the meadow, St. Caire was teaching the shepherd boys how to set up the tipi poles so that once they had completed the sail cloth covers, they could finish being set up. Once the boys had the hang of it, he left them to it and jogged down to collect his pack. Helena and Syria were packing the last of his supplies as he hustled in. He gave them a smile, and they returned it weakly. “Hey, don’t be like that.” he said softly kissing first Syria’s hand, then Helena’s. “It’s only two, maybe three days at most. I’ll be back before you can miss me.” he smiled reassuringly. He knew the girl’s grasp of English was tenuous at best, but he had also had Elena explain all of this to them earlier. He turned and shouldered his pack when Helena reached out and pulled him back, holding him tight to her. She really was just that much bigger than him that if he didn’t see it coming, there was no resisting, still as his face smashed into her soft chest, resisting wasn’t what he had in mind. He felt Syria’s arms wrap around him too and heard her whisper, “miss now” and he couldn’t help but give a chuckle. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away after a minute. One last kiss for each of them and he was jogging away wondering to himself in a half amused frame of mind, if he’d lost his mind to be willingly leaving.

Melina had watched this scene unfold with a slight smile. It was good that they were happy. The two girls who were still watching the ever shrinking figure jogging away jumped as she said “They do that a lot.” Seeing their look of confusion, she continued, “Our men, they are always busy, always running here and there doing this and doing that,” she sighed showing she too wished for more time with Eli, but then she grinned, “Maybe that is why they are so rich!” The three girls shared a giggle, but Melina continued, “Come on, let us show them we did not just sit idle while they worked so hard for us.” The two young women just smiled, nodded and followed Melina to find the next of a million tasks that always needed doing.

By late afternoon, everyone had gathered up in the meadow high on the hillside. There was plenty of chatter. What was it that Eli wanted to show them? Of course Godfreed knew as he’d been helping with it at least the first day or so, but the others were curious. Once they saw him pushing it into place, those from Earth all had a pretty good idea, but the locals were even more confused. He motioned for Sapphira to bring over the pair of goats she had been working with and after a little fiddling with the harnesses he was able to attach the goats more or less comfortably to the proper tow points. Calling over one of the little shepherd boys, he mimed for him to lead the goats to the other end of the little meadow, then turn them around and bring them back. Confused, the boy did as he was told and the blades on the enormous wheels behind the pair turned and the locals watching gasped as the grass started flying.

Eli frowned. The angles were wrong; it was really only getting about a third of what it should. When the boy came back, eyes wide and a big grin on his face, he couldn’t understand why Eli looked less than thrilled. Everyone watched as Eli took a long-handled fork looking tool and with a grunt and a couple of muttered curses wrenched on the device. He wiped his forearm across his forehead and nodded to the boy, "Ok try ‘er again." This time the grass really was flying everywhere. The girls were all clapping and jumping excitedly up and down. The other shepherds were babbling between each other in amazement. Yet when they looked at Eli, he still didn’t look completely satisfied. This time there was more wrenching of the machine and a bit of kicking it. Even a little louder cursing this time, but on the third time, Eli was smiling with everyone else. As the boy came to a stop before him, Eli just shook his head, “Keep going son, this field isn’t going to mow itself” but he said it with a laugh. Two hours later and a seven-year-old boy leading a team of two goats had done the work of a week for a grown man. Eli just sighed. It had worked. Soon John would be back with some observers from the villages and they could have a real talk about next year’s planting. Also about access to some excess labour. He only wished he could think of a way to do an automatic baler, but that was beyond him at the moment.

That evening, everyone was excited as they sat down to eat. It was a hopeful way to go into the sabbath. A high note to cap off the week. The last thing done before the workweek ended was to put the covers on the tipis. The stated purpose was lodgings for their guests that would return with John, but a day off and a bit of extra privacy was a cause for celebration by many.

Chance Encounter on the Road

John had been headed toward the villages for several hours when he saw a humorous sight coming his way. A rather haggard looking Dr. Gupta was pulling a long bodied, intricately carved wooden modified wheel barrow of sorts loaded with chests and boxes. He was sweating profusely and obviously under some strain. Beside him, struggling to pick her way through the thick scrub brush, was a very attractive woman in what for the area would be an expensive dress. Obviously not appropriate wear for a daylong trek through the back country. She too did not look to be enjoying the experience and while she carried a parasol from the color of her face the sun burn she already had was going to be very painful by morning. Behind this very young woman came another woman about the same age who was less expensively dressed but not more suitably so, and an older woman who appeared to be in her mid to late twenties dressed almost identically. It was only a moment before it sunk in and John had to struggle not to laugh. He had heard that Dr. Gupta’s wife was from a family of some means in the other village; they had sent them out with baggage and two maids. Whew, he might make it back with the observers before they did. For a brief moment he considered going back for a rescue party, then decided not to. Start as you mean to go on. If Dr. Gupta’s people were going to make it here, they would need to learn how to adapt.

He steeled his face into a neutral, friendly mask, and waved to the doctor as he jogged up. “Afternoon Doc. See you’re making it back from your honeymoon. Hope everything with well.” He nodded politely to the misses. “Ma’am” he said in greeting. The woman had a startled look. You could almost read the thought, ‘Anju, this creature it is speaking to me’. John fought back the open laughter.

Dr. Gupta let the oddly balanced and ungainly wheelbarrow down and the relief on his face was evident. “Ah hello Lt. St. Claire. Surprised to see anyone this far out this morning.”

“Davidson’s got a new toy. Wants to show it off. Sent me as messenger boy. He seems to think he can help them with the harvest and free up some manpower for a few of our projects like the waterwheels. Uh, speaking of manpower. Not to butt into your business Doc, but you seem to be a might short on it, or maybe a bit long on gear.” Gupta just gave him a sickly smile. John almost let it go but at the last minute figured he should help if he could, “Like I said, not my business, but about four hundred yards over there,” he pointed northward, “you’ll find that creek that flows from by the house. Nice place to camp there. You and the ladies just extend your vacation a bit, and when I get back, I can send a couple of extra hands to help you get all this stuff lugged back up to our spot. Not sure where you’ll put it all when you get there, space is at a premium at the moment but at least it means you’ll not have to pull something trying to do-it-yourself right now. Whaddya say?” He looked at Dr. Gupta, waiting for an answer.

The other man sighed. “I wish it were that simple,” he turned to his wife and gave a very fake smile, then back to look at John. “I will simply need to make this work this time. After this it won’t be a problem, but for now...” His smile was back.

John actually felt sorry for the man, but hey men do it to themselves. So he just nodded. “Ok, Doc, I get it. I gotta get moving, though. My ladies want me back home soon as I can be too.” He nodded to the doctor’s wife. “Ma’am.” Then to the maids he just waved “Ladies” and jogged back off toward the village. Once he was certain he was clear of earshot, John howled with laughter. No, Dr. Gupta didn’t deserve this, but damn if it wasn’t funny. Dr. Stone and Dr. Young were going to eat that girl alive. He was still chuckling at the thought a half an hour later when he stopped for the first time to grab a quick snack and a bit of water.

New Perspectives

Relative Importance

It was late morning of the following day when Anju and his small, and now very bedraggled entourage, arrived before the large iron bound wooden doors of the Great Hall. Despite his near dangerous levels of physical exhaustion, Anju couldn’t help but admire the progress that had been made since he had been gone. The second story was in place and the gates were truly imposing. Even by twenty-first century standards, it would take an especially well equipped SWAT Unit, with some exceptionally powerful breeching charges, to enter uninvited. What ever one may think of Commander Davidson’s other qualities, one could not fault his understanding of the necessity for security. Surprised to see no one out and about, Anju staggered forward and banged on the large door.

Inside, Dr. Young had been taking advantage of this day off to spend a little quiet time trying to sculpt a chess set. She had wanted to play, but not having pieces found that the only option was to make some. She wasn’t much of an artist, but they could dig clay up for free, and she had the time. She had been at it most of the morning and while she could make pieces that were mostly recognizable; she was frustrated because she could not seem to make them of uniform size or shape. Currently on her fourth attempt at making what a “Bishop” should look like when there was a knock at the door. She was a bit confused. Who would knock and not just come in? She headed to find out. She was most of the way across the room when John’s two girls came down the stairs. What were their names again? She hated that she couldn’t remember, but it was just so hard to keep them all straight. What with all of them acting like love struck idiots mooning over men way too old for them, no matter what their bodies may look like. She shook her head at the absolutely ludicrous situation. She waved the girls back, she’d get this she was already up after all. She opened the door and there was Dr. Gupta. The poor man looked as if wild animals or something had set him upon. “Dr. Gupta! Are you ok?” she asked, stepping back to let him stumble in. “Were you attacked?”

Before Anju could respond, Hypathia had entered behind him. She took in the scene. The place certainly was big enough, but it was as open and empty as a barn. She would need to do something about that. Other than some crude tables and benches, there wasn’t really even any furniture. This woman, a maid by the look of the mud on her, kept yammering at him in that babble language of his. Really, she must teach these servants a civilized tongue. She may have to learn her husband’s language, at least passably for his sake, but she would not be dealing with it with the servants. She looked over the condition of the place; it was a disaster. It looked as if people had actually been just sleeping in corners of the room. She turned to the woman and asked, “Have you not cleaned this since the master has been away?” The maid only stared at her uncomprehendingly, though from the insolent expression on her face Hypathia decided that she should either be flogged or dismissed.

Evita saw the young girl come in the door. She didn’t recognize her, but she had known that Dr. Gupta had gotten married. All the rest of them had chased women way too young for them. Why would she think Gupta would be better than the rest of his ilk? Gupta had started to answer her, but then the girl started talking. Evita wished she understood Greek better but learning a new language was hard and the girl spoke so fast... and that tone, and the look on her face, maybe it’s a good thing I don’t know what this little brat is saying, she thought and her brows furrowed. She turned back to Dr. Gupta so he could explain what was going on, when she heard the girl give some orders behind her and then felt a hand grip her arm...

Hypathia was insulted enough that the maid had not acknowledged her, but then to show insolence, and then to turn her back on her was more than could be tolerated! She told her maids to, “Clean up this oversized barn, while I teach this maid how to act before her new Mistress!” and she took hold of Dr. Young’s arm to spin her around.

Watching from the stairs, Helena and Syria had been wide eyed with surprise, and then with amusement seeing the scene unfold. Had they been typical American teens, they would have wished for popcorn, as this was likely to be the best show they would see for a while. That all changed when they heard the order issued to the maids. With only a quick glance at each other, they knew they were in complete agreement. Neither of them particularly liked Dr. Young. She wasn’t mean to them exactly, but they could also tell that she also didn’t entirely approve of them, or more accurately something about them. They could sense it wasn’t personal, but that didn’t really help. Still someone was attacking their home, and one of the people that John cared about. They had seen Dr. Gupta with the others at the Festival, and they knew he spoke the English, so that meant he was one of their countrymen, right? They didn’t know him, though, and they certainly didn’t know this new bitch! Like a pair of wailing banshees, they descended the stairs in a run that approximated a controlled fall and landed upon the two maids, knocking them to the ground. As their knees drove the air out of the two maid’s chests, they saw Dr. Young’s shocked expression as the woman spun her back around, and they heard the loud smack as the slap landed. Without coordination, Helena and Syria sprung up in unison. All four hands wrapping in deeply in Hypathia’s long curls. Like a lioness taking down its prey the girls pulled the struggling Hypatia to the ground and Helena sat on her chest and arms firmly pinning her in place, while Syria, her hands still firmly locked in Hypathia’s long hair pulled hard and said through gritted teeth, “Stop fighting or I will pull your whole head off!” After a very brief struggle Hypathia when limp.

Anju called out, “Please don’t hurt her, that is my wife.”

Evita rounded on him, Hypathia’s hand print still red and swollen on the left side of her face. “You need to get her under control then!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized what she had said, and nearly choked on the words. She knew what she meant, and he knew what she meant. And damn it, she was pissed. “What the hell was THAT all about?”

Anju’s eyes were wide. He spread his hands wide and shrugged his shoulders. “It has been a very hard trip for all of us. My Greek isn’t great yet... Uh.... are you ok?”

Evita took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She looked over and the two maids were also getting to all fours now and gasping for air, holding their sides. Evita nodded her head after a moment. She looked at Anju. “If they let her up?”

He nodded his head, “I’ll see to it.”

She looked over at the girls and nodded. “Thank you. I owe you one.”

Helena and Syria both grinned, proud of themselves, both to have proven their worth and to have won so decisively. Before they finally released the girl, Syria looked down at the tear-streaked face and sniffed, then looked up at Anju and Evita and just bellowed one word loudly and with a bit of disgust, “Bath!”

Evita choked back a snort of laughter. To his credit, Dr. Gupta simply drew himself up straight and summoned all of his tattered dignity and in an effort to inject some humor into this utter disaster affected his best British accent, “Capitol Idea, That!” He offered his hand down to help Hypathia stand, “Come along dear.” Of course the locals did not know what any of that meant, but seeing Dr. Young nod and smile, Helena and Syria both relaxed. Then came the shakes as the adrenalin crashed out of their system.

Dust in the Wind

Elena was very understanding when she agreed to trade a pair of very fine whale bone hair combs from Anju’s personal wealth, for a large section of sailcloth from the stores of the group as a whole. Having heard what had happened, and having witnessed the obviously forced and less than sincere apology to Dr. Young, Helena, and Syria, separate living arrangements for a time at least seemed prudent. To say that his new bride was a bit waspish about her new situation was generous. Elena thought saying anything not completely vile about the woman was generous, but Eli had asked her to let him handle it, so she would be nice, or at least avoid the woman if she could. It was just that work had begun this morning, and other than her maid coming to collect food for them, she had seen neither maid nor Hypathia to help out. John would likely be back by lunchtime. There was much to do.

Elena wasn’t the only one noticing the absence. Georgia slid over to where Evita was replacing, kindling and restocking the firewood rack by the oven after breakfast. “Haven’t seen your friend this morning. Saw one of her maids come to get three plates of food... but no one to help cook any, wash up after, or any of the million other things that need doing around here every day.”

Evita gritted her teeth. “I know!” she almost shouted, then inhaled and slowly exhaled. “Eli talked to me last night. Asked me to let him have a chance to talk to Gupta today and get a handle on things. So yeah, it burns me, but give it a rest, my blood pressure doesn’t need it.”

Georgia chuckled softly, “Hey, I was just sayin’ if you want some backup and John’s girls are busy...”

Evita snorted, then gave her a lopsided grin. “They really were a pair of hell cats. You should have seen it.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even think that they liked me, much less fight for me.”

Georgia laughed softly, started to say something, then hesitated, started again and thought better of it...

Noticing this, Evita rolled her eyes. “Ok, what? Just out with it already!”

Georgia frowned momentarily collecting her thoughts and decided, what the hell, she asked for it... “Ok I know we’re not what you’d call close, and I’m not trying to make this worse,” she took a deep breath and then just continued on in a rush to get it all out there. “They probably weren’t real excited about you. I mean, I know this total mess has been hard on you, hell it’s been hard on us all. I know that you think you were cheated out of whatever fame or life you left behind, and I left the same stuff behind, so I understand. Yeah, the guys all have lost their minds and started chasing girls that would have gotten them jail time back home, but honey, it ain’t back home. Here and now, these girls would all already be married to someone else if not these guys. Also, if you haven’t noticed, the girls are happy. I think you might be the only one who hasn’t noticed how much better their lives are since we showed up. Yeah, are guys are idiots! They’re guys! It’s genetic, that we love them so much, is our own defect.” She gave a bit of a snort. “Our guys with all of their flaws are modern American guys, with American values, and when you compare that to even ‘good men’ through most of history, there is no comparison. So the point is, love you or hate you, someone attacked the best thing that has ever happened to those girls, and they weren’t going to just let it pass. You can keep looking at this as the greatest disaster of your life if you want to, and there is nothing any of us can do to stop you, or you can get inspired by those two and fight to hold on to the good things you’ve got. All I’m going to say on it.”

Tears were in Evita’s eyes. The words hurt. She knew part of the reason they hurt was that there was truth to it, but she wasn’t quite ready to let go of the pain. It felt like all that she had left. “Easy for you to say. Marcus Godfreed’s arms making holding on to the good things a lot easier.” She turned and hurried away. She couldn’t help it. The tears were going to come, and she didn’t want it to be in front of everyone.

Syria had been trying to soften up a hide that John had skinned but gotten side tracked and let dry out. She was on her knees between some bushes in a quiet section of the little creek when she saw Evita come running up, crying. She lept to her feet with anger flashing in her eyes startling Evita. She hissed one word, “Hypathia?”

Seeing the tiny girl so rigid with instant anger, so ready for war, Evita couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh through the tears, which really brought a confused look to the tiny face. Evita just pointed to herself, “Sad, miss home.”

Slowly, Syria nodded. “John,” she shook her head, “Talk home. Maybe sad.”

Evita didn’t know how to explain the loss John was really sad about so she just nodded, “Maybe he’s missing home too.” she agreed. “You really love John, don’t you?”

Evita could see Syria struggling to parse the sentence. Like she got the words individually, but needed time to put them in place to figure out the meaning. Then she nodded. “Melina say John good. Little, not little. Uh. Old soul. Melina knows John.” she put her hand to her chest, “Learn John. John good good good!” Her little head was nodding up and down vigorously now, “Love John.” again she indicated herself, “For John!”

‘For John,’ Evita thought glumly. Then to Syria she simply pointed to herself and said “For...” trailing off and showing confusion, “Sad”

Syria said nothing more. She simply hugged her. Evita didn’t know why, but somehow it felt better, at least a little.

This had better be important

Life is Magical

John had been a bit surprised that Chief Dorien had eagerly decided to come himself rather than sending a representative. It had equally surprised him at his rather chilly reception at the second village. Many of the locals seemed unhappy about his presence and as a general rule, while not openly hostile, weren’t welcoming nor in any way supportive of sending even an official observer. He only relented and sent the most ardent opponent of any continued cooperation or even contact with anyone from his side of the island.

Chief Teppo had even originally forbid Magus Ries from attending, until the Magus had pointed out that if there were magic being used, who else could evaluate if it posed a danger or not? Of course John was privy to none of the details of this because of the language difficulties, but between the body language and the warning looks from Chief Dorien when the others weren’t looking, he knew that he needed to get a translator on the job and quick.

The trip back was mostly uneventful. John had been this way multiple times by now and had memorized the least challenging course. The men traveling with him were traveling light, and were in moderately good condition, so having left just after first light, they arrived just after the lunch hour. Of course they had been spotted by the signalman nearly two hours out. So when they arrived, food had been prepared and a new segment of meadow had been staked out. While Eli did the meet and greet with Elena and Melena, John quietly snagged Sapphira and let her know about the bad vibes coming from the second village. With a quirk of her eyebrow, she quickly pulled him away to a small clearing where there was a small blanket spread in the shade. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw Helena and Syria there chatting happily with... Dr. Young? Ok, that was unexpected. Upon seeing him both girl’s eyes lit up but then seeing the confusion on his face, and the concern in Sapphira’s, they started to ask questions instead. Greek flew back and forth in rapid succession. Three sets of hands waved at speeds that made John wonder if they would soon take flight. In the end, Sapphira frowned. She turned to John. “They said when they left that some of the young men had been complaining, because we came for Eli, there were no wives for them. At the Festival there was a shortage of women from our village for the young men from the other village. Then, many women had wanted metal jewelry but the men of the village didn’t have any. From what you say it sounds worse than this, right?”

John shook his head. “These guys had been looking forward to this Festival for a long time, this was their time to shine. We stole their thunder. Yeah it’s probably more than that, but that’s sure enough to get the ball rolling.” he frowned then looked up at Sapphira and saw a complete look of incomprehension in her eyes. “Sorry, not enough time to translate right now. This is information Eli needs.” Just like that, he was off. All four women rushing to catch up. Sure enough, the late lunch had wrapped up, and the guests were being led to the next section of meadow designated for mowing. As the crowd meandered up to the meadow, they became spread out, clustering in small groups of two and three to converse as they went. It was in this way that John was able to get word to Eli, while Chief Dorien was able to warn Elena.

Seeing John occupied, Syria saw an opening to help a new friend. ‘For Magus Ries?’ she wondered. With a nothing ventured nothing gained she captured Evita’s hand in one smooth motion, skipped three steps ahead pulling her stumbling behind to catch up. Before Evita could ask Syria if she had lost her mind, she heard the girl introducing her. She understood nothing but her name, and as she looked up, the name of Magus Ries. She tried to control the startled and then irritated look on her face. After all, she was supposed to be diplomatic. She could be diplomatic. Why was the man grinning at her like an absolute loon? Was he simple or something? She was so going to strangle Syria for this when this was over. For now, she just smiled and tried to keep up her end of the conversation with Syria’s limited English, her only lifeline.

Before long, Eli was in place. Without large speech or fanfare he simply told them what they were about to see, then let the young shepherd boy lead the goats away. The mower crisply turning behind them, throwing grass down behind the machine in heavy orderly rows. There were gasps from those attending. The Village’s two representative began to scream foul play. Eli simply smiled and asked him where. Elena provided him with the Greek words. The accent was rough, but the sentiment was absolutely clear. Magus Ries found he had developed a real fascination with this device. Everyone’s mind was completely blown when Eli let each of the visitors take a turn leading the team of goats.

Evita couldn’t help actually falling into genuine giggling fits at Magus Ries’ antics. He became so overly excited a shepherd had to be sent out to detach the goat team for a time and allow them some space to calm down, away from the excitement. The man had lifted it and examined it from every angle, sometimes a whisper, sometimes a thoughtless mutter, sometimes a shouted exclamation, but always the same phrase, “chorís mageía”. Evita thought it was understandable the first minute, amusing the first ten. When twenty minutes later he had examined the whole machine as closely as he could without a wrench, and was still muttering the phrase, she became concerned, but it wasn’t until she saw the looks of white-faced concern on the other two guests that she suspected this might be more than just one man slipping a gear. “Syria, What’s he saying?” she hissed in a whisper that was really too loud, but everyone was ignoring her.

With a whisper of awe Syria said, “say no magic”

Then too loudly Evita said with too much sarcasm, a little too evident in her voice, “Of course there’s no magic!”

The other observers all looked at her, confused by her tone but not understanding her words. The locals who had a much better grasp of English, including Syria, just stared at her, dumbfounded. Seeing Syria’s look, Evita just sighed and rolled her eyes. She approached Magus Ries carefully and softly put a hand on his shoulder. When his eyes met hers, she just gave him a soft smile and shook her head, “no magic, Choris Mageia” She gave it just a moment before she gave a slight tug to see if he would allow himself to be led away by her. She was glad when he came along unresisting. She motioned for Sapphira to join them as she drew Magus Ries off to the side. Once she had her interpreter in place, she continued slowly and in a calm voice, “When ever I have a difficult problem to consider, I find it helpful to think of something else for a time. Give my mind a rest. Then come back to it. Will you walk with me?” As Sapphira relayed the message, Magus Ries numbly nodded and held out his arm for her to take. Evita only hesitated for a moment. She felt nothing patronizing in the gesture. It was just the unconscious courtesy of a gentleman. She sighed softly, pleasantly surprised at how good that simple courtesy felt.

Leaving Eli to continue showing off his new toy, and making his pitch to the representatives of the town, Evita led Magus Ries to the humble improvised benches and tables of the break area to the side of the forge and workshop area. John, Helena, and Syria had followed along, ducking out just long enough to swing by the main outdoor kitchen area for tea and a plate of ripe olives and figs. After a time, Evita recounted a slightly embellished story about the arrival of Dr. Gupta. Mostly to paint Syria and Helena as even more heroic figures. Both women were blushing furiously. Evita suspected that the story might have been even a bit more exaggerated again in translation by Sapphira’s facial expressions and wildly over acted body language. John was howling with laughter and beaming with pride. Magus Ries was obviously enjoying the story very much, being seized with a fit of laughter so hard at one point that he nearly choked on an olive pit. As he recovered, wiping the tears forming in his eyes, John recounted the story of seeing them on his way to the villages, and the fits of laughter began anew.

Once things settled, John asked him cautiously about the reaction he had experienced in the village during his visit. With a heavy sigh, Magus Ries explained they were a victim of their own success. Their rapid rise in wealth and yes the corresponding shortage of eligible young women, not to mention the raised hopes and expectations of those who remained. He smiled as warmly as possible at the ladies gathered around, had turned many in the town to envy. It was easier to despise excellence than to achieve it. Sad fact of life. He obviously did not share this view, but then his position wasn’t one that could easily be threatened. Though what he saw today certainly called that belief into question...

Once back to that topic, Evita cautiously dipped her toe back into those waters. “How did you know that there was no magic in Eli’s machine?”

Magus Ries’ brow furrowed. Explaining magic to those who couldn’t access it was always difficult. He started by explaining that when magic was accessed; it left a trace. It had surprised him not finding any in any of the metals that came from Eli’s workshop, despite the obviously incredible purity and unknown alloys. Then when he saw a machine without a single rune of power, that could do what that machine could do, it still boggles the mind. Seeing it, he understands the theory of how it works, but to have thought of it much less calculated each necessary piece without any magic? He wouldn’t have believed it possible. He still isn’t sure he believes his eyes.

Evita might not have been able to understand his words directly, but the utter sincerity of their delivery deeply moved her. No man is this good of an actor. He really believed in this magic of his. So she had Sapphira just directly ask him if he could somehow show her more about this magic of his. She ignored John’s wince and waved down Sapphira’s look of panic, and to her surprise, so did Magus Ries. He appeared to be asking for a straight translation with no sugar coating. The sad smile that crossed his face also surprised her. Sapphira translated back for him, “He say he try. People who no magic, no see magic, only see magic do.”

Evita couldn’t help thinking, convenient, but just nodded. Ok buddy, you’re on, she thought as she steeled her expression to neutral interest and motioned for him to proceed. Evita felt her world shift under her. In that moment she understood EXACTLY how Magus Ries felt upon seeing Eli’s simple machine. For she didn’t really see but more experienced in a way that almost seemed like seeing, his fingers reach through a gap that wasn’t there and access a ribbon of energy, he pulled this ribbon of energy, manipulating it into a pattern, and a light sprang up between his fingers that was as bright as a candle flame. She gasped and stammered like a fool. “That’s not a trick! J-J-John I swear, I can see it! Th-that-that’s Magic, but that’s IMPOSSIBLE!”

The rest of the day, and yes, the rest of that night, passed in a blur in Evita’s mind. At some point, John and his girls had gone their own way. Sapphira had stayed to translate, but had fallen asleep at some time in the early morning hours and been carried up to bed by Eli, who only smiled and figured he’d get the details in due time.

So it was that the observers found Magus Ries and Dr. Evita Young still exploring a new world together when they came looking for him to leave the next morning. Magus Ries groaned inwardly at the thought of an all-day hike after no sleep, but he was quite certain his thoughts would be far too busy to be too miserable. Phoebe, who had taken over translation duties this morning, explained that Magus Ries had to return now, or there might be problems, but they had invited him for midwinter, and he would work on having a surprise for her by then.

Evita watched him go and felt some of the magic that she never knew existed leave the world. That would seem sappy, she thought, except that in this case it was quite literally the exact truth. How could this be? Was she losing her mind? Had the insanity of this place finally made her lose it? She turned and jumped with a start to see Syria standing way too close and smiling at her expectantly. With excitement in her voice bordering on a shriek, she hissed in a barely contained whisper, “For Magus Ries?”

Evita sighed an exasperated sigh and felt all the tension in her body drain away for a moment. She nearly broke down in hysterical laughter. She was over sixty years old; she had multiple Phds she was NOT some teeny bopper with a crush! Even if that idiot grin of his was cute, she thought with a wry shake of her head. “MAYBE, Ries For Evita!” she said with a bit of a smug smirk.

Syria’s eyes boggled for a moment as she wrapped her head around that idea, then just broke down into peals of giggles. Evita decided she didn’t care if she was a mature, sophisticated, educated woman. This simple young girl was a true friend, and Evita needed to start treating her like it. So Evita put dignity on the shelf for just a moment and joined in the giggles.

Winter

Routine

With the guest gone, and villages left with with their own decisions to make, life had started to settle for everyone else. Eli had expressed it probably the best when he said they would have to decide if greed or envy were more powerful. Georgia’s mind had rebelled at the way he put it, but she had to admit it made a kind of sense. Eli was offering them a path to riches like they had never seen before, and he had demonstrated his ability to deliver, if they worked with him, or they could resent his success and resist, and in doing so deny themselves that wealth. She had been there when he had put it just that way to the representatives of both villages. She saw the consideration that clouded the face of both men. She didn’t know what they would choose, but they were both clear on the options.

Soon there after the weather turned colder and wet. Oh, for her it wasn’t too bad, but Marcus, born and raised in the Carolinas, he whined about it. Big, tough Texan Eli grumbled as well, though honestly more about the near constant rain than anything else. Still, with all activity focused more closely around home, they spent mornings in Greek study. They were all getting much better, actually. The locals English was also to the point where hand signals were almost never needed. Even Hypathia. Georgia couldn’t help but chuckle with that girl. She hadn’t made it easy on herself. Eli had called a general meeting of the crew and given everyone the “you’re in or you’re out speech”, offering shares in a joint holding management company “World Wright Incorporated”, with various subsidiary companies as needed that could more or less be their own private concerns if that’s what they wanted so long as the greater objectives were observed, or they could cash out, be granted a lump sum and go their own way. She had pushed for Anju to take his share and “be his own man.” He had laughed at her, offered her two maids employment with him if they wished to stay and told her to stay or leave her choice, but if she stayed it was on his terms. Her life had been hard for many weeks after that, but things seemed to be smoothed out now. At least Georgia thought so. It was always so hard to tell from the outside. Kind of like with the Roths. She was sure that their matches were going to end in disaster. But the four of them are a flock of odd ducks, but they seem to be damn happy odd ducks. She chuckled. Hell, even Evita went around humming and smiling.

Only Eli seemed to be running a bit ragged, but even that was in a good way. Five of his eight were starting to show, and two she had just heard were late for their monthly. That means likely only Phoebe won’t be big as a whale by the time the Spring Festival started just before planting. It meant that while everyone was getting new clothes, most of the women were opting for dresses with easily expandable waistlines. Even Baba Looey and Eeyore had new clothes and boots and were attending classes right along with everyone else.

The spinning wheel count was now up to six, and they stayed busy in shifts most of the day. The vast pile of wool that Elena had traded for was steadily turning into a pile of tradeable yarn. If rumors were to be believed, the Roths were even trying to cook up a Jacquard style loom in that workshop of theirs, but Georgia had little hope for that. Those things were a lot more complicated than they looked at first glance.

She and Evita had even managed to get the olive oil/lanolin soap production up and running, even if in limited runs so far. Georgia giggled. It was one of the few things that she saw Hypatia actually get genuinely excited about.

She fed another load of wood into the clay stove that Anju had constructed. It wasn’t quite central heating, but he said that the Russians used a version in Siberia and from the way it kept this place warm on just a couple loads of sticks, she could believe it. If this is what he taught Hypatia’s brother to make, the man has to be making a killing. She smiled and curled up in the warmth. Marcus was out at the foundry with Eli at the moment, but it would be getting dark soon. She wondered if maybe she should go to the bathhouse. Water might be warm by the time he was done. A long soak together away from everyone else might do them both some good, she thought with a smile as she headed for the door.

The Ride

Baba Looey thought he looked right smart in his new clothes. Coat with tails, Mistress Georgia called it. Said all proper footmen would be wearing them one day. He wasn’t sure what a Footman was, nor why they called him Baba Looey, nor why they always shortened it to just Baba. These strangers were well STRANGE. Still, he couldn’t complain. Sure it was hard at first, but he figured him and Xander, um, Eeyore that is, had that coming. Mr. John gave ‘em both a second chance and Baba wasn’t planning to screw his up. He looked down at the seat beside him. They even trusted him with this fine crossbow. Let him drive this fine sleigh, to go pick up someone as important as Magus Ries and bring him back for the Mid-Winter Banquet. Yeah, food was good, and the place to sleep was warm and dry, not many gigs this good when you got right down to it. Still, he would be happy now that they were pulling back in to home. Seemed like such an excess to build such a nice sleigh when Mr. Sam first started to work on it, for no more than they got snow, but it sure made this trip nice. As he pulled on the reins, bringing his team of goats to a stop in front of the doors of the great hall, he snarled slightly at the muddy ground. Nothing for it, he thought with a sigh as he jumped down, his boots squishing in the mud. They were well made and his feet would stay dry even if he had to slog around in this for hours, but he didn’t look forward to cleaning off all the mud later. He opened the light door to the sleigh’s compact enclosed cabin and felt the warm air from the small clay stove hit his face. That just had to be the way to travel, he thought as he helped Magus Ries down and collected the Magus’s luggage. Eeyore opened the door before he could even knock and welcomed the Magus in taking the luggage. In a low voice Eeyore told him in English, “Miss Syria said for you to see her when the animals are put away, she’s got a hot bowl of stew saved back for you.” Baba hurried to get the team fed and bedded down. Miss Helena and Miss Syria were wonderful cooks and always made sure that there was plenty to eat. He could do with hot food right now. Putting the hay in the rack for the nannys, he couldn’t help noticing how much of it was going bad from the damp. He hoped Mr. Eli could get his “sawmill” whatever that was next summer, like he said, because if it meant real barns right and proper, they sure needed them. This was no way to keep animals.

Was it something I said?

Magus Ries followed the young man up to the “room” that had been prepared for him. A small section of the large open second floor of the great building made of the odd walls, river rock that appeared to have been glued together with clay, yet clay that was hard as stone itself. Absolutely amazing, again no magic! Fascinating! The thin partitions that served as walls made from crude hurdles of split willow gave it a very rustic feel, as did the room’s space furniture, all crafted from simple logs rough hewn to fit. Yet despite their crudity, they were richly covered with thick flokati and quality fleeces. The place was a most unusual melding of these people’s obvious wealth and their haste and expedience. Had they really only been here half a year? The mind boggled with what they had accomplished in only this short amount of time.

His thoughts were interrupted when a familiar voice from the doorway said, “Welcome back, Magus Ries. I wanted to see if you wanted anything to eat or maybe to wash up, or get a bath before your meetings this evening?” He turned, surprised at how fluent her Greek had become in the short time since they had last spoken. From the proud little smile fighting to win freely on her lovely face, he could tell that his surprise must have shown.

He couldn’t have held back the grin, even if he wanted to. With a completely over the top formal bow, he returned her greeting, “Thank you for making me feel so welcome in your truly marvelous home. While the bath is quite tempting, having missed it on my first visit, I had to hear about it the entire way home. I would much rather hear news of what has happened since my last visit. How it is that your Greek has so vastly improved?” again, his grin only widened. He knew he must look a complete fool, but this Evita Young was always so full of surprises. “Please, join me?” he pointed to the second rough hewn chair by the small table.

She gave a quick word to someone standing just out of sight, around the corner of the room, then came in and took a seat. “Well then, before you leave us, you’ll certainly have to try the new and improved baths. I’m quite certain the others will be envious when you tell them of it.”

He nodded. “I’m certain that they will. Perhaps you can show me these improvements?” Her face flushed. At first he thought with excitement, but then perhaps he misread something? Her posture changed she became more guarded.

Slowly and in clipped words she said, “Where I come from such suggestion would be viewed as more than a little scandalous.”

He was a bit taken aback by the sudden change in her tone. He had thought that she liked him. Why was she now so offended, because he wanted to share some intimate time with her? Wasn’t this how it was done where she was from? Wasn’t this how all the others seemed to be doing it? He had done his homework before coming here. His mind raced furiously over the intelligence reports he had gathered... he thought he spotted his error. She seemed to relax, as if she would not hold his mistake against him, so maybe he could try this in a better way. The one they called Anju Gupta had approached the girl’s father and made a marriage contract. All the others had technically been sold, or sold themselves to their men. Maybe this was a class thing! He had offended her dignity by mistake! Such official arrangements were usually only done by nobles and very high end merchant families, but perhaps I have misjudged her status. He thought to himself, after all, they have this level of wealth as essentially survivors of a shipwreck of some sort. He looked up and met her eyes. “I am so sorry if I was careless with my intentions. I was not trying to suggest creating a scandal for you. Is it your father that I should petition? Would you give me his name, and perhaps what he may desire, that I might offer up something he will truly value?”

The flood of words that came next were all English, and while he couldn’t tell what she said, he quickly understood that what he had said was the wrong thing. All the frost giants of the north couldn’t have brought a greater chill to the room than when she finally returned to Greek and replied simply, “That would not be possible. I’ll leave you to rest before your meetings.” and then she stormed out of the room.

So it was that a very confused Magus Ries accepted a small platter of salted olives and sliced cheese, and a bottle of wine with two wine goblets from an equally confused tiny dark-haired girl. At her inquisitive glance, he could only shrug in bafflement.

Do those ideas still serve you?

Syria knew she was going to need help to understand this one. Helena rolled her eyes a bit when she heard what was going on. She liked Evita too, but poking your nose in other people's business didn’t seem like a smart thing to her. Especially people like Evita. Helena knew John said that people were all equal. She even thought that he believed that. She knew, and Syria should know, that that just wasn’t so, and believing something didn’t make it true. Evita was one of the strangers. Rich, and powerful, and smart, knowing things no one else ever even thought of. She and Syria were the daughters of fishermen, poor fishermen at that. Who were they to involve themselves in the affairs of people like Doctor Evita Young? They should just be grateful to have someone like John. Shouldn’t they?

Still, Syria was insistent, and while Georgia seemed exasperated, she did not seem to direct any of her ire at either of them. Likewise, when they discovered Evita a short time later. When they found an extremely agitated young woman with a tear-streaked face swearing in Greek, English, and some other language that neither Helena nor Syria could recognize or understand, standing in the middle of a pile of devastated firewood. The logs not split, but rather chipped or perhaps splintered. More fit for kindling than for maintaining a cooking fire. This did not seem to deter Evita from uttering a curse and driving the axe at an off centered angle into her next target, causing the wood to fly wildly in opposite directions.

Helena and Syria were both shocked when they heard Georgia say in an almost bored tone, “Ok, let’s have it. What this time?”

Evita wheeled angrily on her, “Go AWAY!”

Helena and Syria both started to back up, but froze, their mouths dropping open when Georgia continued, “No. Cause I gotta hear this! You’ve been floating around here for two-and-a-half months, humming and almost dancing after one night with this guy and you didn’t even kiss him. He’s intelligent, rich, successful in his career, that isn’t scamming people as you thought, so that’s a plus, oh and he’s literally fucking magic! After all this buildup, he’s not even here long enough to take his coat off, much less yours, and you’re throwing a fit? I gotta know. What excuses have you come up with not to just take the win and be happy this time? Did he have garlic breath? Maybe there was something in his teeth?” Syria was pretty certain that Georgia had forgotten the axe in Evita’s hand, but she was really afraid that Evita hadn’t.

Evita threw her hands up in the air. “He wanted me to show him the bath!”

Georgia snorted loudly, “Like you haven’t been waking the rest of us up moaning about that in your blankets for the last ten weeks!”

This time, Evita did raise the axe. “With the noise you and Marcus make, I don’t want to hear about it. Besides, dreaming about it and doing it are different. Hell, Georgia, people OWN other people here! I don’t mean like our guys who supposedly own these girls but in reality follow them around like lost puppy, I mean own people own people. How do I know what he would assume it meant? Even beyond no means no, which ok probably wouldn’t be said anyway, still it should always be a choice! But beyond that, what would he assume that meant for when he goes to leave?” She waved at Syria, “Like she says, would he think, For Ries?” she spat the last two words with such venom that Syria and Helena cringed back from her.

Georgia shook her head. “Excuses! Who cares what he assumes, it is up to you to set him straight! I think you’re still finding excuses hiding behind the same excuses as used from before. You know where those led. Is it really what you want now? Do those ideas really still serve you? You’re a grown woman, lay out the ground rules.”

Evita sarcastically spit out, “I was going to! Then he asked me how to get ahold of my father! What he might want in trade! Like I was a piece of meat to be bought! With no say in the matter at all!”

Georgia winced at this. “Ouch. Ok. His bad. Still, don’t you think it might be worth it to work on him rather than just throw it all away?”

Evita smashed the axe into another hapless piece of firewood with a bloodcurdling war cry, “Of course! Why do you think I am this mad?” Without another word, the axe fell again, and the three women quietly left her to vent.

Later, having heard what had happened, it was a small place after all. Hypathia of all people cautiously approached Evita. While animosity had cooled between them, there was still no love lost. Hypathia cleared her throat. “I know it isn’t my place to intrude,”

Before she could continue, Evita bluntly said, “Then don’t”

Hypatia started to walk away, but then finally stopped. “I can’t. Miscommunication and misunderstanding caused a rift between us, and it is what it is going to be I suppose. It doesn’t have to be that way for him. I don’t know Magus Ries personally, mind you, but his actions follow a familiar pattern. He by all accounts approached you as he would any common woman, and was rejected and told it was scandalous. Only nobles or those particularly concerned with status would see it as such, so he asked for the needed information to approach according to their customs. I do not know what great secret method your people use for such matters, but before you judge him, you should tell him your customs. It could save,” she gave a light sniff, “everyone a great deal of trouble and embarrassment later.” Then she walked away without another word.

A very stunned Evita suddenly realized that she and Hypathia might just be, even after all.

New Year, New Start

Late at Night

Magus Ries was overwhelmed. It seemed everyone was aware of his personal humiliation with the very confusing Evita Young, but were being too polite to mention it directly and instead just dropping vague comments about patience and the trials of spirited headstrong women. Even his very serious meeting with Eli Davidson was tinged with the man’s faint, if mostly covert, amusement at the situation.

Thinking of his meeting with Davidson, Ries looked down at the small metal disk and gave a shudder. The boy, the child really who had put the hole so neatly in it had spoken rapidly and in most of the words were in English so he didn’t claim to fully understand it all, but the results were undeniable. He had figured out that “Kicks like a mule” referred to the apparent recoil of the contraption. Much like a catapult when released, he assumed. Even with the thickly padded shoulder on his tunic, he was still rubbing his shoulder, but it didn’t dampen his triumphant grin. What a “Kentucky Long Rifle” or “Steroids” were or why one would be on the other, he couldn’t sort out, but the noise was as if Zeus himself had released a thunderbolt and this tiny target no larger than his palm was struck from what he estimated was over two hundred paces away. With the tiny bolt going right through, though, this be as thick as any Hippolyte’s armor. It was a feat he doubted even the great high magi of the vast city empires of the mainland could match, yet the child did it with only mild discomfort to his shoulder. It was truly disturbing.

Oh, not to mention the wonders of the workshop! Such precision! A screw for moving water, sure, that had been done since the ancients, but for directing the cutting surface? Or for applying pressure of a press? Of presses! Their “Printing Press” alone was a miracle of miracles! He had hoped that the famed baths would clear his mind, but he spent the first half trying to puzzle out how the water flowed hot straight from the wall. Then one of the maids had brought in some fine soap. He had reached for her, but to his surprise she drew away from him, giggling. She had just said, “Better if we don’t, trust me on this.” and left the room. He wasn’t offended, it wasn’t that important, but who ever heard of slaves acting like that before? Besides, what did she mean better if we didn’t? He was still trying to sort through all of these things swirling in his mind like debris in the current after a storm when there was a soft knock on the door. Looking up, he saw Evita standing in the doorway, holding a small bundle. Her hair was down, and she wore a soft formless knit gown that, while modest by any definition he could call to mind, hung in such a way that it conformed to her natural curves in a way that made it difficult to concentrate.

In a soft voice she asked, “May I come in? I think we should talk.”

He found that his mouth was dry, and the words didn’t seem to want to come out as smoothly as they should, still he managed to stutter through, “Of course, I thought...” he trailed off realizing that after a day like today thinking wouldn’t be his strong suit.

She smiled as she sat down. “I,” she began and then hesitated and took a deep breath before continuing, “may have, I don’t want to say over reacted, but maybe reacted to what I heard you say, rather than what you were trying to say.” She let out a deep sigh. “Someone reminded me that we have different cultures, and that expecting you to abide by mine, without even knowing what mine is, is unrealistic. I wasn’t happy to be let in on that little secret,” she smile ruefully at him and was glad she only got a bit of a shy smile back, “because it meant I didn’t have the right to be mad at you. YET! and I had worked up so many good reasons to be mad at you too...” she trailed off a little wistfully. Giving him a slightly embarrassed smile when she heard him chuckle. “So here goes... Are you listening?”

“Attentively,” he said, the stupid grin back in place. Damn him, he did have to make it hard to stay mad, she thought.

“Good!” she said firmly. “No excuses afterward. Then I can be mad if I want to be without feeling bad about it!” she couldn’t maintain the stern look on her face as she heard his soft bark of laughter. Why did conversations with him have to be so enjoyable? “Where I come from, the woman gets to choose who she is with. Not her father, not anyone. A man needs to ask HER, nicely and with respect, after he’s earned the right, then if he’s really lucky, she says yes. It isn’t something done lightly, or to just be discarded when the man is bored. That is how it is done right!” she nodded her head firmly.

Ries favored her with a sidelong look. There was no way any society could function if this really was the way it was expected to function all the time. Women were such fickle creatures they would be continually inventing new ways to have men ‘prove’ their affections to coddle their various insecurities, still, he’d play along, this one was worth the games as long as they didn’t go too far, anyway. He smiled at her, “Seems a bit one sided,” he gave a thoughtful look and noticed the slightly crushed expression that came to her face and added quickly, “Though perhaps if all women are as amazing as you where you come from, it would be worth it.” he let the discussion drop there. Her concern had melted back away. He did actually like this one. She WAS different and impressive, if a bit impractical and a bit overly attached to some rather odd ideals. Ah well, people grew with time, perhaps in time they would find a mix that fit. “I promised you a gift the last time we met. Are you ready?” He asked with a smile.

Evita’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she looked at him. “Is this one of those gifts where you give it and suddenly I’m yours?”

Ries barked a laugh openly and then cringed, putting his hand over his mouth, not wanting to wake anyone. Seeing this she fought down gales of giggles as well, but the quirked an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘and’. He let out a soft sigh. With a hesitant nod he said, “By our customs, many would accept this gift as a rather extravagant, and given the personal effort and time that went into it, intimate such a gift.” he hesitated only briefly as if coming to some private conclusion before quickly adding, “However for YOU,” he stressed, “it is only a gift.” Seeing her look of wary hesitation he added with what he hoped was his most reassuring smile, though at the moment the disappointment he felt didn’t make that easy, “Truly.”

Her smile brightened the room. “Then I happily accept.” He stood, went over to his pack, and retrieved the small bundle. He unwrapped a white silk rose in full bloom. Having seen thousands of these in her own world, Evita tried to remind herself that here this would be rare are precious and that it was the thought that counted. All concern with faking appreciation vanished as he coaxed some of his magic into the flower, and it began to glow somewhat brighter than the lamp on the table. It was much like the light from an electric light back home, but somehow softer and warmer, and the flower wasn’t so bright as to hurt her eyes, she could clearly see it, yet it was also bright enough to light up the entirety of his small room. “It’s beautiful!” she gasped. He couldn’t help but smile. This was what he had been hoping for when he planned this project out. The hours spent, not to mention the cost involved, seemed worth it for the look of awe in her eyes. After a moment, she recovered. She had a bit of a strange smile. He couldn’t really judge her thoughts, but she simply said “Thank you, I will treasure it. Now, I have made a gift for you as well...”

“Oh,” then with a grin he teased, “Is this the type of gift that you give and I belong to you?” he asked.

Not even missing a beat, she replied, “Of course, but for you, it is simply a token of my great respect and admiration.” Watching his eyebrows climb his forehead, she couldn’t stifle the giggle fit that broke loose. She silently chided herself. Pull it together Evita! What are you twelve talking to your first crush? Then with a more haute tone of voice she quipped, “See, that is how a gift is presented with grace, style, and class.”

Grinning madly now he found himself choking back laugher, “Well, how could I refuse then?” When she placed her bundle on the table. He pulled away the cloth wrapping and below was a clay box with an inlaid mother-of-pearl and simple polished shell. The hinges and latch that closed the little box were quite intricate, more of their amazing precision craftsmanship. Evita had stolen those hinges from the small medicine cabinet in the wreck's latrine, but she wasn’t about to admit their origins to Ries now, or likely ever. He looked up to see the eager anticipation on her face and tried to hide the confusion on his own as he opened the little box. Inside there were thirty-two little clay figures. Sixteen a reddish terra-cotta color that had been whitewashed with lime and sixteen more that had been coated in a tar, fired, then perhaps polished with a wax until they were a shiny black color. His confusion deepened. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing here. Were these the household gods of her people, perhaps? “They are extraordinary.” he finally settled on as the safest thing. He looked up, startled, as he heard her giggle.

“It’s ok if you don’t know what they are.” she said gently. She giggled again as he sighed in relief. She took out all the little figures as she explained, “It is called chess. Where I come from, they consider it a test of skill and wisdom. It is a game of strategy and reason. Everyone from the most famous of kings to our most learned scholars, to rogues and scoundrels in the most disreputable of places has played it.” Her eyes twinkled as she turned over the box, using the pattern he had noticed as a grid to set up these figures. He now recognized this game somewhat. The princes of the far east played a version somewhat like this it is reported. She smiled when he told her so. “It has been around in various forms for thousands of years. Tonight if you like, I will teach it to you.”

He finally got it. The board while nice wasn’t the gift. Her gift was knowledge, and that was always precious. With a smile of understanding, she taught him how to set up the board. What the pieces were, and how they moved. Before beginning the first game, however, she wanted a wager. His protests of being unfamiliar with the game were only met with taunts of it being a game of intellect and wisdom. Surely the great and powerful magus would have the advantage. Knowing he was doomed but spellbound by the excitement in her eyes, he agreed. “So, what wager will satisfy? Do you seek to bankrupt me this evening?” he asked with a smile.

She shook her head. “Nothing so dire. If I win, you must kiss me good night.”

He chuckled. “And if I were to prevail?”

She shrugged, “Then I should have to kiss you good night of course.”

The first game took some time, as she often coached him, saving him from foolish mistakes. Helping him to protect his pieces, but in the end she claimed victory. Not quite ready for the evening to end though the hour was getting late, she proposed a rematch, “double or nothing”. He agreed, though he didn’t quite see how his victory actually benefitted him any. He needn’t have concerned himself. She was only using this as a chance to show off. Using what she said was the “fool’s mate” that really only ever worked the first time she had him defeated in four turns.

Their first kiss was pleasant, however Ries was reserved a bit, considering his missteps earlier in the day. Upon collecting her second prize, though, he became more bold and was happy to see she responded well. Evita was only a bit surprised as Ries moved into heavy petting territory on the second kiss. A bit much for first dates for her, but damn it Georgia had been right she had been working herself up for this for a long time, and well in general it had been a LONG time, even before she got stuck in this backward ass world, so she didn’t stop him, but she didn’t really encourage him either. This was good for a first date. He wasn’t leaving until after the new year. There was time. Suddenly something was different, he had drawn in magic, his fingers were dragging lines of pure magical energy over... ooh... after all of these years, and this was something new... she tried to choke back the sound she really did, but she heard his deep chuckle just a moment before it was too late. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she realized everyone in the house had to have heard that but it was too late because here it was coming again...

Breakfast was a tough time... Evita was certain that she could never look any of them in the eye again. Everyone only smiled. But it was just so... she was always so private about such things. What’s worse is that bastard had the gall to just look smug! She couldn’t even look at him without blushing uncontrollably. She was just ready to crawl under the table when Syria sat on one side of her, and Georgia on the other. Syria dreamily said, “you cost me almost an entire night’s sleep. John heard you and he had ideas for us all night. I owe you one.”

Face burning, Evita could only giggle helplessly, a bit maniacally. Georgia sighed, “yeah maybe you could have him show Marcus that... whatever that was...” and just like that fits of laughter healed the shame and she was looking forward to the rest of his visit.

Broader Horizons

Spring Festival Preparations

Preparations for the Spring Festival had been in full swing for nearly two weeks before the villages realized what had been happening. Eli had already sent Eeyore out with the mower to cut a wide path down to the Festival grounds. He had really wanted to work up some road grading equipment but without large draft animals; he had to settle for a handful of good steel shovels and hoped he could hire of few strong backs once planting was done. He put up the tipis, only this time along the trail. With the shear number of pregnant women traveling this spring, he would not have anyone caught out too far from shelter. Plus, with that many grand parents wanting to come see the youngsters... he smirked just a bit smugly. In addition to his seven, yeah that number still made his mind boggle just a bit, there were the two for the Roths and Anju just made the announcement last week and while it was official, the total lack of focus of one Marcus Godfreed more than likely meant that he had been told but they were waiting a few weeks to make it generally known, just in case.

Remembering back to when his own kids were little, a diaper washing machine had been high on his list of priorities to design. All the parts for it that were of local manufacture were at the top of Elena’s priority list for the spring trading. When he explained what they were for, she had looked at him as if he said he invented the self mowing lawn. He snorted and smiled, remembering. This was going to be a busy year. He really hoped everyone in the villages played nice, he didn’t want to bust heads, but in addition to the modified long rifle that he’d demonstrated for Magus Ries, he’d worked out a mean double barrel street sweeper for Marcus and a brace of six fine, even if only single shot pistols for himself. The firing mechanism of these took a bit of getting used to. It wasn’t a trigger like a modern weapon, but a small clip on the side of the barrel. When you forced the pin in it caused a spark. Made these a little more “hair trigger” than normal guns, the “safety” being something wedged in the way of the clip, but with what they had available, it did the job the most reliably and for now, that was what mattered. Improved triggers could come in time.

Baba and Eeyore came into the forge carrying the freshly sawn lumber for the new wagon’s wheels. He made a note to have Elena authorize a bonus for them. He’d clear it with John, but those two had come a long way since the fall. Still idiot kids. But now that was their only problem, and if they didn’t do something stupid to get themselves killed, time would fix that. He dusted off the boards and gave them both an approving nod before snorting; it had for the rest of us, anyway...

Festival Excitement

Having gotten smarter about things since the last time, Eli didn’t try to make the journey all in one big bite. Instead, he had set up staging areas along the way for people to rest as needed; He had a total of three wagons now with goat teams pulling to move supplies and in dire circumstance move people. It was a bit much to expect the little goat drawn wagons to move Marcus or himself in full armor very far or for very long but between reasonable walks themselves, moving gear by wagon, and having shaded rest areas to eat and rehydrate this evolution out to the festival grounds went much smoother than the first one last fall.

Getting set up also went much smoother. Even with so much of his company in the family way, their extended family showed up happy to help. Shocked and almost offended when payment was offered but as they saw the offer was genuine and that each side was only offering what it had an abundance of to help where the other side of the family had a shortfall, they joyfully accepted. Several of what Eli couldn’t help but think of as father in laws, especially the ones most perplexed by the concept in the beginning, once they got the hang of it, were actually quite innovative and resourceful at finding useful excesses elsewhere in the family that were honestly quite helpful considering Eli’s relatively difficult position of just starting out not having a surplus of anything except money and metal, and if you asked the father-in-law’s generosity. For Eli and the others, it was the simple expedient of being able to buy what you didn’t have time to make or do for yourself, but to the locals, it was an odd concept and a welcome one that allowed them to stretch budgets that were way too tight in the early spring, often known as the starving time traditionally.

The end result was very happy extended family members. Very happy young women seeing their families taken care of, and as the saying goes, ‘happy wife, happy life’. The World Wright Incorporated section of the Festival grounds had an almost permanent feel to it. When asked about it by the two Chiefs, Eli simply shrugged, “We’ll be using this spot at least twice a year, anyway. Investing some in it now, will pay returns every year after. I had wanted to talk to both of you about some possible development plans for the area in the future. They can’t happen soon. I will need my saw mill up and running before much of it becomes practical, and probably some larger draft animals as well. Goat power is better than nothing, but it just will not work large scale or longer term.” Both Chiefs looked at each other in confusion. Yet they nodded wisely at Eli, and made their excuses to each wander their separate ways muttering under their breath about ‘development plans’ and the insanity of merchant princes, which is more or less how both of them had come to view the members of the original crew that found themselves unexpectedly marooned in this alternate and exotic world. Chief Teppo had given up on his earlier thoughts of riding a wave of public opinion to crush these new upstart arrivals. After descriptions by Magus Ries of the wonders they were building, there was far too much to be gained by befriending them, and by the description of their terrible weapons, they were way too dangerous for him to risk offending. That didn’t mean that he understood anything that this Eli had been talking about. How can a sawmill,, whatever that is, help develop a place that has no water, it made no sense?

The Festival was going well. Though they were meeting resistance on planting extra acres this spring. Even with the demonstration of the mowing machine and the promise of harvest assistance the cost of planting more and not being sure of how they would see a return was a concern for the farmers, most of whom lived very meager lives never certain of enough to keep everyone in the family in food, to gamble more without a guarantee of return, it was just not something that they were sure that they could take a risk on.

Everything came to a screeching halt as four children came running up from the direction of the beach. “A ship! A War Ship! they all shouted.” Unable to get more from them than a warship was striking straight for the beach, and that they should be landed at any minute, Eli just called for his crew and decided to march down and see just what they wanted. John grinned at him, jogged back to the wagons, then circled wide and into the trees to find a good angle.

The large prow of the vessel furrowed into the sand of the beach just as they arrived. Marcus tightened the chin strap on his helm and said to Eli in a hushed growl as he fixed the long bayonet to his muzzle, “Hope they came in peace. That’s a lot of oars I’m counting, by rough estimate, it might be more than there are fighting age men on this island.”

Eli just grunted. He had always thought that the armor of the ancient Greeks looked a bit silly. High crests and the long unwieldy spears and oversized shields. As the Hippolyte warriors dropped over the side of the ship and formed up on the wet sand of the beach, they didn’t look the least bit silly. They didn’t have long spears; they were carrying wicked looking bronze knives as long as his forearm, and they all looked like they knew how to use them. Six archers, and one guy in some funny-looking robes, that Eli had a bad feeling weren’t funny at all, formed up behind the neat rows of rather tough looking Hippolyte standing four deep and six abreast. Eli called out to them in Greek, “What is your purpose here?”

The man in the robes said a word, and before anyone realized what was happening, the archers smoothly drew and fired. The arrows had not even fully left their bows when the first sign of the coming chaos erupted. With a deep boom like the rolling thunder, John fired the rifle he had been aiming steadily from his position up in the branches of a cypress tree about sixty-five yards out from the excitement. Making the shot from this distance wasn’t even a question.

Magus Ries had felt his mouth go dry after seeing the other mage. He couldn’t judge the mage’s power from this distance, but if they assigned him to a warship, he would have to be a grade five or better. Officially Ries wasn’t even grade one. Technically, the only reason he could get by with calling himself “magus” at all was because on this small backward island there was no one to contradict him. Oh, he had natural talent, and some genuine strength, but lacking wealth or family connections, he could not attend the proper schools. His formal education was severely lacking. In a fight with this mage, he knew he was sorely over matched. So it was with a near euphoria that he watched John’s bullet impact the mage’s face, exploding it, lifting the entire one third of his head into the air and spraying the nearby archers with them. In that triumphant moment he used his surging elation as power and called forth a ball of fire, throwing it into the archers.

Arrows were already in the air, however. Two burst into flames upon contact with Rie’s incoming fireball. One landed wide of Eli and three pinged loudly as they ricocheted off of Marcus’s heavy armor. Bronze tips being no match for fourteen gauge modern mild steel. He let out a roar, half a heartbeat, before discharging the top barrel of his heavy beast. The powder charge equivalent of nearly a third of a stick of dynamite propelled a four ounce three and a half inch long by nearly three quarters of an inch diameter solid steel slug at a muzzle velocity approaching sixteen hundred feet per second neatly across the intervening distance, through the first two ranks of fully armored Hippolytes, before starting to tumble, thus mostly tearing side ways through the two in the rear ranks nearly cutting the third man in the lineup in half as it went. It could be said that this event may have had a demoralizing effect on his comrades.

Sam and Josh each fired a crossbow bolt, and as they had trained without even seeing, the results went to one knee and began to reload. Evita and Georgia standing behind them instantly opened fire. They got to see Sam and Josh’s bolts do the intended job on two of the archers as they sent theirs for two more who were drawing back at that time. Bolts away, they called out “Reloading” as they had trained, and Josh and Sam rose to fire again.

Leaving the rifle in the tree, John quickly hit the ground and dashed across the intervening distance to scale the side of the ship. Setting loose all of those galleys slaves ought to make things a bit harder for the bad guys, he thought as he dug his climbing spikes into the hull of the ship working his way up to the deck to give them all a surprise.

Marcus’ hands were still numb from the power of the first shot when he let loose with the second. This was rigged with a canister load. Shrapnel blasted free from the barrel in a wide arc. No where near the penetrating power of the first shot, this shot still ripped flesh from bone in any unarmored area for anyone in the front two ranks. They later discovered as they were treating wounded, they pulled teeth from some of those men out of men from the third row. To his side Marcus could hear more than see Eli firing aimed pistol shot after aimed pistol shot at any target that appeared to be able to mount an effective resistance.

Anju had been organizing civilian response from the rear when he saw one arrow get through and Sam went down. He rushed in himself to pull Sam out, only to be relieved that while the man had been struck, the arrow had actually missed him completely and was simply lodged in the sleeve of his woolen jacket.

John slipped over the rail nice and quiet like. Sure enough, there was the guy like in the movies who always hit the drum. Too busy watching the show on the beach, he’ll regret that. Lightening quick he sprinted over and before the man could react, he stabbed him in the kidneys twice and then backed up out of reach. The man he’d stabbed was no longer a threat, however he backed right into another man who grabbed him up in a big bear hug yelling “Gotcha”. John had lost his grip on his knife. Damn it, he thought as he pulled another and, aiming back over his head, drove it deep into the man’s eye socket. The man let go. John falling on the deck, grabbed his good knife up and scampered over to the rowers bench. If he could just work loose this chain, he thought... then he noticed with a sinking feeling, there wasn’t any chain. These weren’t slaves, these men were sailors, and they looked pretty pissed that he’d just hacked up a couple of their buddies, and there was a LOT of them. He felt a hand clamp down on his upper arm, but John didn’t pull away. Just like he and Eli had trained, he ducked into the attack. Dropping to one knee and half falling back between the man’s legs he pulled the knife along the inside of the thigh opening the femoral artery, and then dragged the blade across the wrist of the hand holding his arm severing the tendons of the thumb breaking the ability of the hand to form a grip. He was able to back away, but there were more than a hundred men here. He couldn’t beat them all. Then he saw his way out. One deck down on a raised metal brazier, an open fire burned, it was about twenty feet away which made it about perfect. The sailors were getting to their feet and while they had learned caution and weren’t in a hurry to rush him, his time was running out. With his left hand, he fished in the pouch holding one of his grenades and casually tossed it into the fire.

Not knowing their danger, the sailors not only didn’t run or take cover, they crowded around trying to close in on John. The fuse finally burned down, and the blast in the enclosed area of the wooden craft was devastating. The concrete shrapnel of the grenade was bad enough, but the additional hot coals and small bits of bronze brazier were every bit as deadly. Those who weren’t dead or too badly injured to fight were in a bit of a daze. John pulled on of the flash charges and touched it to a hot ember on the deck. The loud flash panicked the already shaken sailors, and they made a mad rush away from John and piled up in a nice grouping at the far in of the boat. Part of John felt a little sick about what was about to happen, but it was only the small part that didn’t want to see anyone get hurt. The part that knew what would likely have happened to all the people he cared about if no one had stopped these people, didn’t hesitate to light the fuse of the second grenade and toss it casually in the middle of the panicked mob as he went back over the rail.

His feet hit the soft, wet sand as the second explosion went off. He was exhausted. His legs felt like rubber. He looked at the others. Their fight was over. Hearing the explosion on the ship, the four remaining badly wounded soldiers threw down their arms. Marcus called over to him, a tinge of worry in his voice, “Hey John, are you ok buddy?”

John spat on the sand. “Hollywood fucked me! There were no galley slaves to be set free to help us with the fight! Just more than a hundred sailors, all pissed that I knifed their drummer! Fuck! No wonder Eli never had anything good to say about squids.”

The others were trying to hold it back, but the laughs kept coming. They all knew he wasn’t a little kid, but to hear those words coming out of a little kids mouth... with all the stress and tension that had built up over the last five minutes since news that a ship had arrived and the last forty-five seconds of pure terror... and now this... oh it was too much...

Finally, John was laughing too, “Oh sure, it’s funny NOW... you don’t think someone could have told me? Fuck! I need to get laid...” he just left the beach. Everyone just let him go. His team figured he had earned it. No one else wanted to be the one to get in his way. Helena and Syria were indeed thrilled to have him back.

Priorities

Deeper Understandings

Magus Ries sat with Chief Teppo and Chief Dorien after the resulting chaos of the cleanup was drawing to an end. The sheer lethality of the fight had stunned everyone. Of the one hundred and seventy man compliment of the trireme, thirteen men were taken captive and expected to recover from their wounds. The entire fight didn’t last a full minute, and while there were others involved, three men, or two men and a child, did all the damage. Eli, Marcus, and John. A hundred and seventy men, including a war trained magus, six archers and two dozen fully armored Hippolyte. If these stories were told about Hercules himself, who would believe them? They asked each other in wonder. Would we have believed it had we not seen it with our own eyes?

Chief Teppo shook his head. “But this has put fear into the heart of the one called Eli. Not confidence.”

Chief Dorien nodded solemnly. “He had been content to remain on the island for a matter of years and build strength slowly. His ‘development plan’ he said the words in English. Now, he fears being too small to resist. Now he has children to consider...”

Magus Ries stood and raised his voice. “Enough, our fates are tied to his. Lucky for us, he and his people are so strong. They have completely dismantled the ship,” he chuckled, remembering as Marcus explained the term chop shop to him. “Even though it was from the navy of a distant city, if others come looking for it, they will not find it. If you choose to use the wood for his wooden aqueduct or not is a decision for the chiefs but whatever you choose to do, remember all of our fates are tied. Offer a sacrifice for his success and pray to whoever will listen for favor. How a people as powerful as theirs could be in this world and not already rule it, I don’t know, but as he ventures off our island, his success will be our successes, and his failures will most assuredly be visited upon us as well, so support him however you can. That is all the wisdom I have for either of you. Now I must sleep. I travel out to his hall tomorrow to report on the final status of the ship.”

Magus Ries walked off into the dark, deep in his thoughts. Behind him both chiefs felt destiny land upon them. For good or ill, the world was going to change again.

About The Author

Vlad ben Avorham

I started to write books because I wasn't finding what I wanted to read. I like books that make me think, that inspire me to fill out the world with what could be done there. Tomorrowverse is a series of novels and short stories to explore the technological innovations that are preparing to throw us into an unknown and in many cases unknowable future.

Much like Star Trek did for generations of young viewers, I hope Tomorrowverse can give a positive vision of what can be, even as times seem dark. We stand at a pivotal moment in time, where we can enter a future of unparalleled success and prosperity or go down the dystopian nightmares of Orwell's 1984 or Huxley's Brave New World.

It is my fervent hope, that if people have the time to think about what kind of world they want to build, we can reclaim our future from those who would censor, and silence, and eventually eradicate true diversity of thought, and diversity of world view. If I can in some small way help present the choices for a brighter future, then I will have done what I can to bring about a brighter world.

More importantly in the short term though, is for you to enjoy, think about, and join in the magic