The Uncle Tal Stories (Patreon)

Chapter Eighteen: The Raiders

Earth Rebuilt

Six Billion (and change) AD

“Uncle Tal! Uncle Tal!”

At first, Tal didn’t want to move. The hand-carved wooden chair (some skills never went away) was comfortable, and the sun was warm. It may not have been the sun he was born under, but with the original used up and sold off, this new one was good enough. He was still getting used to the different constellations, though.

“Uncle Tal!”

Something in the youngster’s voice stirred his innate caution. After a waking lifespan of nearly a hundred thousand years, he’d acquired an instinct for trouble that was second to none. After all, living that long requires not dying to the many perils to which fragile flesh can fall prey.

“Uncle Tal!”

The kid was close now, panting as he called out. Tal levered his eyes open and sat upright. “Heard you th’ first time, Bran. What is it?”

It had been forty years since he’d awakened from his last chronon-inflicted stasis, the one that had begun shortly after the dying Sun was sold off. Due to his stubbornness and refusal to leave, Earth was left to fling itself out of where the solar system had been, under the power of its own angular momentum. He’d fully expected to die then, once he deactivated his atmosphere shield and let the thin, chilly atmosphere take him.

But he’d survived and been awoken by a latter-day strain of humanity who had repositioned the Earth-Moon system around a more congenial star, then rebuilt Tal’s species with his own genome as a starting point. Those who had been mere children when he awoke had grown to adulthood and borne children of their own, and those children themselves were now parents. He had grown old among the peaceful collection of communities (called among themselves the Nine Villages) for which he had become the unofficial arbiter of knowledge and disputes.

As well as his stories, of which he had a millennia-deep font, he also knew of many tradecrafts that a body could turn his hand to with little in the way of complex tools, and had taken it upon himself to pass these on to his newly-reborn people. He was nearing his end, he knew, but it was nice to know that the knowledge and skills passed on to him by his forebears would not die when he finally passed.

But he did like his rest. And if his naptime was being disturbed so he could look at a funny-looking frog the young ones had caught in the stream, he’d be … maybe not angry, as there was no meanness in them. But he might be a little sarcastic about it.

However, from the tone of Bran’s voice, he didn’t think it was something so trivial.

“They say there’s a ship coming in, Uncle Tal!” Bran was ten, and in Tal’s uncertain memory he could’ve been the twin of a boy Tal had known in his youth; Garanoth, the son of the chief. But that was impossibly long ago and light-years hence, in a solar system that no longer existed. He blinked and focused on the here and now.

“Collective, or someone else?” He levered himself to his feet. The walking stick that had become more and more essential to him came to his hand readily enough; if he wasn’t as steady on his feet as he once had been, Bran was diplomatic enough to not pay it notice.

“It doesn’t look like a Collective ship, and they’re not transmitting any known code,” Bran said, and thus the cause of the excitement became plain. While there were other star-faring races out there (some descended from Earth stock, others from further afield) the identification codes were known and shared by all. Earth and its close stellar neighbors were under the sway of the human strain who had awakened Tal; they called themselves the Traveling Collective, and were the most frequent visitors to the resettled Earth and the Nine Villages.

“Well, that’s different, all right.” Tal started off toward the single tech-built structure that still remained in the Villages. Once he’d shown his people how to erect buildings with their own hands, from native stone and hand-shaped wood, they had eschewed the Collective-erected structures and entirely rebuilt their homes to fit in with the landscape and tree cover. The Collective had obligingly removed their own buildings, and sent anthropologists into the Nine Villages, studying the new houses and recording the evolving way of life.

The only ‘modern’ building in the Nine Villages was thus the ‘control tower’ for the minimal spaceport. While Tal’s people (and Tal himself) were happy to use basic modern conveniences such as electricity and running water, the Collective structure was purpose-built to house ultra-modern computers (including Narok, the personable Intelligence who had greeted him upon his awakening) and such equipment as could be used to detect passing starships and determine their business.

“What are you gonna do, Uncle Tal?” asked Bran eagerly, trotting alongside him. To him, Tal was an almost godlike figure of wisdom and knowledge, hearkening from an age of mythology and legend. If Tal was being honest with himself, sometimes he felt like a fraud around the boy.

“Go an’ talk with ‘em,” Tal said bluntly. “But you need to do somethin’ for me. Go put out the word I said ‘Ackbar says, duck and cover’.”

Bran stared at him, mouth dropping open. He knew what Tal meant because Tal had explained the notion to them, and even held drills on the matter. He just didn’t know why.

“Do you think they want to hurt us?” Pained innocence loomed large in his voice. In his experience, strangers were friendly and interesting people from far away.

Tal shook his head. “I don’t know, an’ that’s why I’m bein’ careful. These strangers might be friendly, an’ they might not be. Until we find out, we need to make sure they can’t hurt you. Now, git.”

Bran ‘got’, taking off through the trees like a startled jackrabbit. They didn’t quite have jackrabbits here in this incarnation of Earth, but there was something similar. Tal knew he wouldn’t dally in spreading the message. The Nine Villages were peaceful, but Tal had far too much experience with rough strangers encroaching on peaceful lands to trust that would stay the case.

As Tal approached the spaceport control structure, one of the semi-permanent staff came out to meet him. This was Stefan, the man who’d been there when he had been revived. At the time, they hadn’t shared a common language, but since then Tal had taken the time to learn the Collective trade language they all spoke. Stefan looked mildly concerned, but not worried. Tal figured he probably hadn’t thought the situation through fully.

“Thank you for coming, Tal of the Nine,” Stefan greeted him formally. “You are the one among us who has the most experience in meeting with people from different cultures, so I thought it would be a good idea to ask you to come here for this event.”

“You thought right,” Tal agreed. “So, no matches with anyone we know?” He trusted Bran’s word, but the boy may have misunderstood something or Stefan might have gotten more information since.

“None whatsoever,” a voice spoke from empty air. Tal knew this was Narok, and nodded in greeting. “I’ve checked every database. Twice. The make and markings are unknown, and the drive is configured oddly. Ideas?”

“Two,” Tal said at once. “An insular species that’s only just now coming onto the galactic scene and has decided to make this their first port of call. Or someone from another galaxy.”

“I concur.” At the same time, Stefan nodded. “Though I find it hard to believe that we would have missed a star-faring culture in our own galaxy. So the exo-galactic hypothesis seems to hold more weight.”

Stefan tilted his head. “Do you believe that a race would truly travel between the galaxies? What could they find here that they do not find where they come from?”

Tal scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I can think of one thing. But I could be wrong.” He glanced at Stefan. “Just … be ready to lock your place down and send out a distress signal if things go sideways.”

“What thing?” asked Stefan. “And do you honestly believe they would be hostile? After coming all this way?”

Turning to survey the Collective human, Tal gave him a speculative stare. “I don’t assume nothing. But I’d make sure we can deal with hostility.”

“I will ensure that any hypothetical hostiles will not gain entry to the facility,” Narok assured him.

Tal nodded. That would have to do.

The ship came in for a landing about five minutes later, the anti-gravity generators setting up unpleasant resonances in Tal’s back teeth. But he ignored the sensation and leaned on his walking stick alongside Stefan. The human was clad in low-profile strength-enhancing armor under his standard work gear, and sported an energy pistol ostentatiously on his right hip. Tal wore neither armor nor weapon, save the flint knife he’d knapped during his time in Challenger Valley.

His walking stick wasn’t classed as a weapon, as far as he was concerned. He actually needed it to walk, sometimes.

A ramp swung down, with a clearly marked airlock at the top end. At least, the markings were clear without ever being legible. They were written in no language that Tal had ever read.

When the airlock opened, the idea that these might not yet be strangers was ended with severe prejudice. There was one alien race, blue-skinned and copper-blooded, that dated from before humans went into space, as well as several others he’d encountered since then. The three creatures now descending the ramp fitted no such description. When all three had reached the bottom of the ramp, they stopped and surveyed the welcoming party, such as it was.

Tal looked right back. The newcomers stood around the six-foot mark and were distinctly saurian in nature. From their quick, agile movements, they were warm-blooded all the same. The two outriders had scales where black faded to red, while the seeming ambassador had black fading to purple.

The one in the middle played with a small device and spoke into it. Nothing happened, so he adjusted it a little then tried again. On the third try, Tal heard a voice in his head. “Greetings.”

“Greetings back at you,” Tal retorted, remembering to concentrate and try to push the words out through his mind. “Mind tellin’ us what you’re here for?”

“You are impatient.” The saurian’s mental tone was amused. “In a moment, you will understand all.”

The tone was light, but Tal didn’t trust it for an instant. As he watched, the middle figure took out a second device and covered its screen with his scaly palm.

For a moment, Tal didn’t realize what had happened, whereas Stefan got it immediately. He whirled toward the aliens and blurted out, “Did you just turn out the electricity?”

“Now you understand.” The purple-and-black saurian lifted its lip to reveal a row of exceedingly sharp teeth. “All things that need an energy flow have been cut off from it. You are helpless before us. Your weapons will not function. Surrender is your only option.”

Tal jerked his head up to get their attention. “Okay, so you’ve got us. Congratulations. Why is this, again? An’ why’d you come all this way, just to turn out our lights?”

The saurian turned toward him. “We require breedable species that can be taught to perform functions. All races where we come from know of our activities, and attack us before we can get close enough to render them helpless.” It grinned again.

“Why am I not surprised.” Tal’s voice was as dry as he could make it. Mentally, he paid out on the bet he’d made with himself about this.

A column of troops emerged from the airlock and trotted down the ramp, forming up behind the first three. “Three guards will remain with the ship. The rest, with me.”The alien turned to Stefan and Tal. “Who has command over the local area?”

Tal straightened a mite. “That’ll be me.”

The reptile grinned and flicked out a purple-red tongue. “You will guide us to your community centers and we will pick those who will be honored to return with us to our galaxy. If you do not, we will scour this area to the bedrock, and go elsewhere. What is your choice?”

The translator tended toward the monotone, but Tal thought he caught a hint of smugness. He didn’t care. It was time to enact his plan. “I’ll take you to see the villagers.”

“Tal, you cannot!” The exclamation burst out of Stefan’s lips. “They mean to use them as … as …” He stumbled, not knowing the word for the concept that had been just now introduced to his worldview.

“Slaves.” Tal knew it all too well. “It’s this or they all die.” He tilted his head. “You trust me?”

Hope sprang up in Stefan’s eyes. “I do.”

“Good.” Tal turned to the saurian. “Let’s go. Daylight’s a’burnin’.”

“Daylight cannot burn. Your turn of phrase is nonsensical.”

“I’ve been told that a time or two.” Tal led off into the forest, closely flanked by the red-and-black aliens, with the purple-and-black following close behind. After them trailed the troops.

He took a deliberately roundabout route, but not so circuitous that it would be noticeable, before leading his little cavalcade down a narrow draw, lined with trees and bushes. Shadows cast by the setting sun were beginning to darken as they got to the midpoint. He spotted an anomalous object—a red flower placed where that type of plant did not grow—and he slowed a mite, causing the troopers to bunch up behind.

Then he took his walking-cane in hand, turned fast, and tripped the red-and-black on one side before slamming the heavy head of the stick into the side of the other one’s head. The first fell, thrashing, into the bushes. The other went down like it had been shot.

In the next instant, the undergrowth on either side erupted with armed warriors. For not only had Tal educated his people on the tools and skills of peace, but he had also shown them how to do war. Because war comes everywhere, eventually.

The shocked troops were grappled by brawny men, their weapons wrenched away and sharp blades held to sensitive parts of their anatomy. Tal stepped up to the purple-and-black where it was being held by Bran’s father, and pulled the flint knife from his belt.

“Turn the lights back on, an’ be careful about it,” he advised. “Try anythin’ else, an’ your next job will be fertilizer.”

The saurian stared at Tal as the shadows ever deepened. Tal’s eyes, though they weren’t as sharp as they once had been, could handle the dimness just fine. He wasn’t quite sure what it saw before it, but the vision seemed to frighten it deeply. “You … how … nobody else ever resisted!” it blurted.

“Always a first time.” Tal prodded it with his blade. “Now git to it.”

When Tal returned alone to the spaceport building, every light on it was shining brightly. Stefan came out to meet him, looking remarkably chipper. “Your plan worked! How did you know it would work?”

Tal shrugged. “Didn’t. But folks who depend all the time on high tech tend to ignore low tech. I had archers trailing us the whole way.” He nodded at the ship. “Your guys?”

“Your men sneaked up on them.” Stefan’s tone was admiring. “They sneaked up on me. And I knew about them. Where are they all now?”

“We got secure holding an’ ‘round the clock guarding until the Collective ship you called in gits here.” Tal smiled slightly. The Collective liked to ‘patrol’ their region of space almost aggressively, looking for any trouble they could jump in and deal with. They would be almost ecstatic to be allowed to deal with a bunch of intergalactic slavers.

Stefan let out a slight sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I was half-worried you might have, you know, cooked and eaten them or something?” His tone tried to make it into a joke.

Tal showed his teeth. “Thought about it, but there wasn’t enough of them to go around. I’m going to bed. Night, Stefan.”

“Good night … Uncle Tal.”

Turning, the oldest Neandertal moved off through the darkness toward what was truly his home, now. It had been a long day, and now he needed his rest.

Tomorrow, after all, was another day.

Chapter 19