Free Transient Echoes by J. N. Chaney Page A

took several steps to his right, losing sight of the stranger in the process. As Terry came around to the other side of the dome, however, he caught a glimpse of someone else’s backside.
    This one was shorter, thicker and had a blend of red and blond hair instead of white. He wore a piece of gray cloth around his waist, and above it on his naked back, a brown holster holding a long piece of metal tube with a wooden grip. It looked like a gun.
    Terry tried to rationalize how primitive looking humans could have access to weapons like this but remembered the advanced technology in the underground city. Surely, whoever built such a place was capable of making something as trivial as a gun. If so, perhaps the men standing before him now were their descendants. Maybe they didn’t need to build their own weapons because their ancestors had done it for them.
    It seemed the wounds in the animals had indeed been bullet holes. I should be careful.
    We need to leave, said Janice.
    A twig cracked behind him. He flinched and heard some heavy breathing. He turned, expecting to see one of the tribesmen, thinking he’d been found. Instead, sitting atop a fallen stump, he found a beavermite staring at him with an open mouth.
    A sigh of relief overtook him. He edged his way toward a nearby tree and grabbed the branch. Beavermites were harmless, so long as he didn’t eat them. What to do now, though? He could either climb or run. Stay or go.
    A soft moan came from under the branch he was holding. He peered down to see another, even smaller beavermite poke its head out of a hole. It held a piece of fruit in its tiny paws. The larger one on the ground behind him made a similar noise, though it was more like a chirp. Terry raised his brow. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea , he thought.
    A third beavermite appeared, joining the others, tilting its head to look at him. Then another. Suddenly, there were half a dozen of them, chirping and moaning, all of their eyes fixated on him. He let go of the branch and crept away from them. The big one let out a noise like a scream. Crap.
    The voice of one of the men shouted. “B’foc bor shoc?”
    “Shi Hassirc!”
    The beavermites continued to scream. Terry felt a rush in his chest. He looked at the dome, only to see several men emerging from the other side. He counted four of them altogether, but who knew how many others there might be? There could be more inside. Maybe upstairs. What was he going to do?
    Run , whispered Janice.
    I can’t, he thought. This might be his only chance to talk to these people. He’d spent three years in the wilderness alone. What if he never saw another person for the rest of his life?
    The man with the white hair took the weapon and readied it in his arms.
    Run , repeated Janice.
    Terry took a step back but paused. The man with the white hair scanned the edge of the forest with his violet eyes, finding Terry in the trees at last. The man stared at him, opening his mouth to smile. With a crooked finger, he pointed, calling to the rest.
    Run! Screamed Janice for the third and final time.
    And finally he obeyed.
     
    ******
    Ortego Reconstruction Outpost
    April 22, 2350
    It was the late evening. Despite the excitement of today’s discovery in the Ortego ruins, Mei had told most of her staff, excluding Travis, to head home. Reluctantly, they agreed. From now on, everything else was on hold. They’d work in shifts with the flippies until such a time as Mei saw fit. Bartholomew was the exception, because the board would still want their coils.
    “Anything yet?” Mei asked Travis.
    “Not really. I’m still extracting data from those servers with Morty and Stan. I’m using Jeff to map the rest of the floor.”
    “Keep working. We need as much as we can get from those systems.” Mei had no intention of establishing a long term twenty-four hour schedule, but she also wanted to have something significant to present to the board before her next conference call with