Conquest of Noomas. Charles Nuetzel

all felt like a dream. He’d been in the caves, then transported elsewhere; apparently by a Muti. Nothing made sense.

      He stopped, allowed himself to sit, and focus on anything. The attempt only failed miserably and left him frustrated, wishing he’d perfected the Zygo lessons as Sarleni had done. Angrily he stood and walked toward a clearing, the moons hovering on the brink of the tree line.

      Calm: Probe.

      He once again concentrated, expanding his mental boundaries.

      Faint voices stirred inside his head. At first they were without structure, just sounds.

      Surely he was hallucinating. Yet they were distinct fragmented statements.

      He had just stepped out from under the cover of the fringe trees when the voices tuned in clearly.

      …Found something.…

      Is it him?

      Yes.…

      The transmission kept fading.

      He looks safe.

      We were worried.

      Mahzit snapped alert to this new and very much welcomed invasion.

      Finally the words sharpened.

      Mahzit! Be ready.

      That was all.

      Sarleni, he mentally called out: Adt?

      Silence answered him.

      The evening abruptly felt warmer. He was no longer alone.

      You’ll be instructed.

      This was not Sarleni but definitely Helandi.

      We’ll send it to meet you.

      His feet were running. Totally blinded to any dangers of where he was heading. Someone was out there to help him.

      The glowing light ahead instantly relieved his anxiety as the Orb slowly lowered to ground level.

      A firm voice commanded: Enter.

      He simply leaped through the opening that automatically created itself upon his approach. It sealed behind him. Mahzit knew this kind of craft.

      For a short, breathless moment he bathed in a giddy comfort zone.

      The only other occupant, a pilot from Helandi, turned and smiled warmly.

      “I’m charged to get you relocated, sir.”

      “What about the others in my unit?”

      “The orders were very specific. They will find their own way.”

      The Orb lifted into the sky.

      “Where are we headed?”

      “To the Kaminaean coast: I’m instructed to take you there to finish your mission. You were under surveillance until we lost contact!”

      The pilot turned back to the controls, indicating the conversation was over. And he also realized the man probably knew little more than he had just stated. Unanswered questions riddled his mind but they didn’t matter. He was safe.

      He quickly rushed over the last day’s events and realized that he had apparently not been on the continent. The Gatherer’s attack must have caused the Raiders to detour from their planned destination.

      That was a shock. For now, he decided to deal with the present. His mission was being re-directed by Helandian authority.

      “Are there any supplies here?” he asked.

      “You can check the armory bins. They sent me on short notice so I don’t think they were stocked. Take my travel kit; also the water bag and cutting tools: basic provisions. Some bandages and a few emergency items, sir.”

      He went to a locker in the wall to the left of where the pilot was sitting and pulled out the small belted pack that easily latched around his waist. The water bag and other provisions clipped neatly into place.

      Mahzit settled in, thankful for the rescue and decided to enjoy this flight to Kamina. He had hardly begun to relax when a violent jarring tilted the Orb.

      The pilot cried out: “What was that?”

      Mahzit had been knocked awake. He sprang to the control booth and scanned the open vista on the screen. The ocean spread out below and ahead of them land was approaching fast.

      A thick shadow crossed their path. The sky went black.

      Mahzit recognized its shape.

      It was one of the monstrous Gatherers.

      What are these creatures doing here? Why are they attacking?

      “Get away from it—fast!” Mahzit ordered.

      “I plan on it!” The pilot’s voice was tense, and as his hands went to the controls the Orb shifted direction and shot rapidly towards the coastline. “I’ll have to drop you here. We weren’t supposed to be detected! Prepare yourself!”

      Again they were brutally jarred.

      The pilot throttled the Orb down towards the land. With amazing agility the man shot towards the trees, maneuvering through narrow openings between massive trunks. The Orb twirled left and right as it brushed past thick foliage. Abruptly the craft hovered above a tiny meadow, under the covering of tightly laced branches, hardly pausing.

      “Go!” the pilot said hastily, even as the Orb glided along its course.

      Without questioning motives, Mahzit knew what was expected.

      Anybody observing what was taking place might not notice the craft pausing in its flight over the marsh.

      Mahzit jumped out of the portal and as he tumbled to the ground, the Orb shot towards the protective cover of thick clouds. Just when it streaked the edge of the billowing white, several Gatherers swooped in.

      The Orb went wild red. Explosive energy churned violently; white fire shattered the air, engulfing several of the Gatherers in its demise. The Orb and birds plummeted to the ocean surface blazing like a crimson furnace. The brave young pilot had apparently triggered a self-destructive explosion.

      Mahzit saw one last Gatherer hover over the debris of its fallen cronies. After circling twice, it withdrew up the coast. The pilot had been expendable; and so was every person involved in the spy missions.

      Mahzit slipped into the thick marsh, not once looking back.