Chapter 47: Volume II: Chapter 14: The Tail Part 2

As they rode down the familiar path, Jack reminisced. Every fall his father would take him to the coast for his annual negotiations trip. On the way they hit every harvest festival they could, adding at least an extra day to the journey.

He smiled as they drew closer to an outcropping of shacks, one of his favorite stops, by far. Their roofs stuck up from waves of wheat and barley, a lighthouse in an ocean. The fields stretched for kilometers around, leaving the small village exposed, only a thin line of trees blocking the elements. Inside he knew the town square took nearly the whole space, every shack having a view of the ceremonial flame. It stood exactly how he remembered it with one exception.

“What happened?” he asked scanning the once pristine landscape newly marred by ruts and unhealthy dirt patches. Upon closer inspection a few of the thatched roofs looked new, the huts’ walls scarred with scorch marks. A scarecrow stood in a half barren field, a lute painted on its front with crude Humantic scrawled across the bottom:

‘No Humans’

“Looks like one of Johnson’s raids,” Dai said taking in the destruction. “It’s been happening more frequently lately. He must have needed new subjects.” Her eyes flicked over the graffiti. “We should go around. Lute’s been flooding raided towns with propaganda. Something tells me we wouldn’t be welcome.”

“Right,” Jack said. He couldn’t deny the disappointment. He’d hoped to take Mic and Chleo to the next harvest. Without knowing it, his mind painted a picture, Melody by his side, Johnson a distant memory. It glimmered false, longing brushing the scene in short, choppy strokes. Still, it was a nice thought. The dream died as quickly as it took to post a sign.

He guided the mule away. The others followed giving the battered village a wide berth. The farther they traveled, the more he noticed. No one dallied in one place too long. Everyone they passed lingering in the open, walked with the twitchiness of prey, an eye always on the nearest escape route.

Suspicious and hostile stares replaced the once open and free greetings Jack remembered. More than one hastily painted lute littered posts and tree stumps along the way. Jack eyed Mic’s human skin with a cautious eye. Maybe they should have built in a Neon option.

The journey dragged on. Boredom born from travel and a missed night of sleep mixed into a nightcap sent from Umbra. Jack’s head nodded off as he fought to stay awake. Eventually, he tied himself to the mule to prevent a fall. Mic and Dai promised to keep watch, but he didn’t trust the mischievous glint in Dai’s eye. He remembered a time at the academy when he’d fallen asleep during one of their all-nighters in the lab with her and Merk.

He woke up with blue and red striped hair and a message written across his forehead. Of course, he didn’t know about the message until he saw Melody later the same day. She’d laughed and said, “Yes,” before grabbing Dai by the elbow and rushing back to the dorms. Confused, he turned to Eelock. Amusement danced in his eyes as he'd told him to go find a mirror.

He stared in horror, then excitement as he read the Neonian written across his face, roughly translated, “Melody, will you go to dinner with me tonight?”

Shaking his head, Jack forced his eyes open on the back of the mule. He missed her. He hoped she was keeping her head down. Johnson was brutal when he felt the need.

Finally, the wheat fields gave way to coffee plants. Coastal fauna took the place of its brethren as they continued onto the peninsula. The sea reached from either side in the distance searching for then meeting the horizon.

Jack, Dai, and Mic threaded sporadic huts each larger than the last, wood and dirt turned to mud and concrete, then to stone and glass. They weaved closer to the Tail’s tip. The last building scraped the sky, resembling a flame licking a backdrop of water.

They pulled into the stalls resting in its shadow as the sun sank lower. Other mules sat parked, their owners already at market. Jack stared at the building as they approached admiring the masonry. No one knew who built the structure, its architecture too advanced for its age, and its inception predating Human Arrival by hundreds if not thousands of years.

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He remembered traveling to its highest floor to sit in on his father’s meetings, the Tail’s ceremonial flame casting light on him and the other participants. At the base, crowds surged around him, Dai, and Mic as they entered the largest trading square on Torr. The building’s origins were unknown, but it didn’t stop the residents from using it.

A few wary eyes swept over Jack and Mic, the owners hurrying on their way, but the bustle mostly shielded their presence from the majority of shoppers. They managed to wrestle their way onto a lift platform without too much trouble, Dai acting as their guard when anyone hinted at aggression. Landing on level five, they unloaded quickly heading straight for the old craft booth Jack knew through his father.

“Well,” the owner greeted Jack, eyeing the other two in the glow of his red skin, “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you in these parts again.”

“I can imagine. It seems things have regressed in my father’s absence,” Jack replied giving a hesitant smile. The trader paused studying his face. Jack held his breath hoping Lute’s reach hadn’t stretched to his old acquaintance.

“And in yours,” he replied his face cracking into a familiar grin. “What can I help you with, Jack?” he asked reaching out a hand.

Jack sighed in relief shaking it. “Melody’s gone and gotten herself into a spot of trouble. Do you have any old space skimmers sitting around on the field?”

“Space skimmers, you say?” he asked rubbing a red hand over his jaw. “What’s that wife o’ yours getting you into, now, son?”

Dai bristled beside him. He lay a subtle hand on her arm. Jumping to Melody’s defense, while appreciated, would hurt their haggling chances. Although, if she threw the deal, the irony would give him enough ammunition for a month at least.

No, focus, they needed to get to Chleo. “Nothing one of your crafts can’t fix,” he said adopting a put-upon smile.

The trader laughed. “True enough,” he said clapping Jack on the shoulder, “I have just the thing. Problem is, the hull integrity’s busted. Won’t be fixed ’til tomorrow.” He chewed his bottom lip, his skin flashing a shade brighter. “Morning, if you throw in some incentive.”

Jack chuckled. “Same old Brank. What kind of incentive were you thinking?”

Brank seemed to consider his answer. “Well, seeing as you’re stuck until tomorrow, how about you three come back to my hut for the night, and we’ll discuss it. The Missus’ll be wantin’ to see you, Jack. I say the nagging you’ll save me from will more than cover it.”

Jack flashed the old man a genuine smile. “Deal.”

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