Ryllian straightened, his eyes staring straight ahead, years of training activated with just the tone of my voice. “N-no sir. Not at all, sir.”
“Good.” I felt bad pulling rank, but if I had to wait to get clearance from Baraxen, that would take at least another ten minutes and honestly? I was afraid Iwouldchange my mind.Humans fascinated and terrified me. They were capable of such beauty…yet such destruction. “I am taking a Sparrow and will be back in seventy-two hours. You can notify Major Baraxen once I leave. Understood?”
The younger Volderen nodded.
I sprinted to the closest Sparrow, its number marked in our language as42, then peered at Ryllian. “Is this one green to go?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Thank you.” I bid him goodbye with a quick touch of my fingers to my chest, a silent gesture to convey strength and kinship.
He responded with the same gesture, gave a half bow, then turned his attention to the hangar bay controls that would deactivate the force shield protecting the bay.
I boarded the vessel, which prompted the AI to activate interior lights and start-up protocols. Behind me, the ramp lifted upward, creating an airtight seal.
Walking past the tiny sleeping nook and two passenger seats, I settled into the pilot’s chair and issued commands in my native tongue to start calculating a flight path.
With a quick tap on the lifecord, I adjusted it to project an image of a male human with short, black hair, an average physique, and a bland face. Though I did not plan on interacting with humans, I would keep my true identity safe and land outside of a small city and keep the Sparrow stealthed.If I knew what I was looking for, that would help.
A map of Earth filled the view screen. I squinted, my vision traveling over the land masses. So many cultures and people, how could I choose?
“Computer, put me in a park near a compact city.” I had always enjoyed reading and watching the history of humans, so why not immerse myself in their culture? Between my lifecord’sinformation and what I had learned from others, I would be able to navigate their world effortlessly.
The computer chose a little town in Texas called Barkley, and I approved my course.
Chapter 2
Isat next to the campfire, enjoying the mild temperature. April nights in central Texas didn’t require extra heat, but my canvas did. Smoke spiraled upward, filling the air with the scent of burning oakwood.
Glancing above, I smiled at the simple, warm LED bulbs strung across the site. Between their glow and the fire, even at night, I could see well enough to make the images of the world come to life with a few strokes of my brushes.
“Hmm.” I tapped the thin, wooden end of a fan brush against my chin. “What’s missing?” With a sigh, I leaned into my camping chair and watched the stars twinkle against a black blanket of sky. The trees, with their slim, sharp needles and triangular tops, seemed to point to the heavens.
I gave my painting another critical eye.It’s missing something, but what?It matched my view above almost exactly, but it still felt unfocused.Maybe something in the foreground? Gray smoke winding through the air?
The fire crackled, sending a spray of embers bursting high, then falling onto the rocky ground. “I need to give it up. I’ve got a long day of painting tomorrow.” With one last sigh, I stood and stretched, then placed my brush into a cup of water to soak overnight. The fire would burn itself out while I crashed on the twin mattress in the bed of my truck. My life might not have been glamorous with an ancient Ford truck as my home, but it beat living on the streets.
Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.
One day, I’d have enough saved to buy a place of my own. One day. But until then, I’d keep moving and taking whatever jobs came my way. Freedom—my number one motivator—would always trump the bindings of staying in one place for too long.
Snap.
The noise, possibly the cracking of a stick, came from the far side of camp near the tree line.
I stilled, cocking my head to listen. The song of the crickets disappeared, but a radio blasting at another camp didn’t. The hackles on my neck stiffened, and a shiver ran across my skin.
Maybe it’s nothing, or an animal. Get moving, Gerri.
Obeying my inner voice, I grabbed the small cylinder of Mace from my front jeans pocket, keeping my attention on the trees with their dark, secret spaces between the trunks.
Another snapping, shuffling sound, closer this time.
Not an animal, unless it’s a bear.Did this part of Texas even have bears?I’m supposed to make a lot of noise to scare them away.That’s what I’d read in one of the many state park brochures I’d collected over the years.
I slapped my denim-clad leg with my free hand. “Who’s there?” My voice shook, but I held my ground, carefully unlocking the tiny canister’s tab with my thumb, just in case.
Someone cleared their throat, the sound distinctly male.
