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and Cindy, “How is the native doing? The Sansi girl?”

“She is a bundle of sunshine,” replied Ana. “Everywhere Kira goes she leaves people smiling, and people love talking to her. She’s due to head home soon and tell her tribe of her time with us. How I’d love to be a fly on the cave wall when she does.”

“She asked me how the little people can live in the radios. She is a riot,” Chris added.

It was one of the better evenings. An evening that one remembered as pleasant later in life. They talked, and made wisecracks, and laughed. They all tried hard to hide their fears and be hopeful for the future

****

KIRA WAS READY TO LEAVE. She missed her home, and then again she did not. She was torn between leaving these wonderful people and going back to her loved ones; all the time thinking she might not be allowed to return to this magical village. She believed the gods were happy with her, and allow her to return. The problem was that someone else from her tribe deserved a turn.

The wonder of the things she saw while living with them made her feel grateful. The ones called Cindy and Rahul were kind and helpful. They showed her everything she asked about, and some she did not.

There are rain rooms inside their homes where they can clean themselves, she was thinking, and soft rocks that bubble in the waterfalls to make dirt disappear.

She was allowed up to their starship and given a slow, well-explained tour of the Excalibur only two days ago, and the images were fresh in her mind.

Her beautiful blue home slowly circled below her, while she held tight to the rail; afraid of falling. The captain explained why the Sansi could see the ship as it passed overhead at night. When Cindy tried to explain the hiber-pods, she could not imagine sleeping for so many years. She, like many others, loved the habitat hub where you could fly. There were many wonders, and their explanations were only partly successful. Even without fully understanding, she loved it all.

They showed her the medical center, where it was possible for the gods to heal themselves. When she learned a god could die, it confused her for awhile. The idea took some time to sink in. She was, however, a smart girl, and eventually accepted the possibility.

Cindy, Rahul, and a god that carried a stick that shoots fire accompanied her to the caves. As soon as they were close enough to see her home, they were greeted by what must have been most of the Sansi tribe.

The natives were excited and glad to see them; talking all at once. Members of the tribe brought baskets of fruit out and laid them before their guests as a tribute to their saviors.

The two contact specialists and the girl had come a long way in their ability to communicate. Regardless of their progress, the humans still could not keep up with the rapid-fire conversation going on between Kira and her tribe.

Cindy turned to the girl and asked, “What are they talking about Kira?”

“They say to me...that you have saved them.”

Puzzled, Rahul asked, “What did we do?”

“You made the Riktors run away with your magic floating rocks that cannot be seen. My people are very...happy.”

The contact specialists enjoyed the party regardless of the fact they had no idea what the natives were talking about. After a while, they figured out enough to know that somebody had neglected to keep them informed about matters concerning the natives. Someone should have told them the Sansi had been attacked.

Kira was glad to be home. She missed her family and friends and the simple, familiar life that led. Most of all she missed Toji, her special friend that would someday become her mate.

The things that she had learned while with the Kuthra told her that the gods were in many ways very much like the Sansi. The gods that came to save them were smart and powerful, but they were not all-powerful. The Kuthra, like her people, could be killed. As the party of three gods left the Sansi, her people raised their right hands above their heads as a sign of farewell. Watching them leave, Kira was thinking, not only are they strong and powerful—they are brave.

****

SITTING IN HER PRISON, Tammy Shoemaker was scared and angry. Angry that she was afraid. Her parents told her many times that giving yourself to your cause would lead to a place in heaven. A beautiful place where you would live forever. Lately, though, she was beginning to have doubts.

Her prison was a standard habitat module, placed as far away as possible from the rest of the settlement with bars added to the windows. A ten-foot chain link fence with barbed wire on top surrounded the habitat; leaving a fifteen-foot walkway all around. She was allowed thirty minutes a day to spend in the Yard, which she learned to treasure.

Most of the time she was alone inside her cell, with her guard stationed in the yard. The captain stopped by once, the big cheese security man twice, her lawyer and psychiatrist switched hours every other day. Christopher Morris, to her delight, was seeing her more and more.

He surprised her two weeks ago when the guard knocked on her door declaring she had a visitor. Standing outside was Chris, with a lot of questions; most of which she had answered numerous times. At first, he appeared self-righteous and patronizing. As time went by, Chris kept coming back, and she began to think that he might care what happens to her. He was always so thoughtful, and supportive, that Tammy thought of him as her ray of hope.

Her life on the Excalibur had been a solitary one. She purposely made no friends, afraid they would ask too many questions, so there was no one to talk her out of her destructive tendencies. She had affected her sabotage in the belief she was helping her cause. Looking back now, she realized she left her cause behind a long time ago. Never again would she hear the stern teachings of her stepparents, or set foot on the polluted, over-populated Earth. During her incarceration, she had time to think and began to realize her parents had been wrong on many matters. In Tammy’s eyes—she had played the part of a puppet and a fool.

Chris was sitting across from her at the table when she asked, “Do you really think they’ll let me live?”

“They can’t...execute you. You have too much to offer the colony. With your skills, there must be a hundred jobs you could do.”

“The colonists will not believe I am sorry. If I were them, I wouldn’t either.”

“I believe you’re sorry, and I’ll tell them that. I know a lot of people that will testify the same way.”

“The people you refer to are maybe a dozen out of eight hundred and something. I find it hard to be optimistic after what I’ve done. To most of these people, I am a murderer at the very least. Maybe I deserve to die.”

Chris reached over and took her hand, “Listen to me—there are a lot of good people here that just want to live their lives. They work hard and try to be fair to each other. I think you’ll find more forgiveness in them than you expect.”

He turned her hand over and took on a scholarly attitude. He looked down at her palm and said, “You have a long life line...that ends in three children...and a lot of laundry to do. I see dishes...and robots—lots of robots.”

A smile grew on the girls face, “You don’t know anything about palm reading. How could you possibly make those predictions? You are crazy.”

“Crazy huh? We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we? But I’m pretty sure I got the robot part right.”

Chapter Eighteen

Al knew he needed sleep. It was a fundamental part of being human. He was thankful it was only about four hours a night, instead of the average eight for most people. He could tell when he needed sleep by a lack of concentration and a frustrating fuzziness in his head. Still, he hated to waste time sleeping.

The morning of the trial he woke from the dream at two in the morning, straining to understand the meaning behind it. He was so close this time. His rest only lasted a few hours, and he lay there wide awake, wishing that sleep would retake him so he could finish the dream. After a while, he realized it was hopeless—he was awake, and the dream was gone. Al got up, dressed, and left his little habitat house to check on the men in the security shack.

It was a beautiful summer evening with a cloudless sky that allowed a million stars to light the surface of Avalon. As he walked the path to the security shack, the night air helped to calm his nerves.

Al was not looking forward to this day of the trial. The security arrangements were in place, and everyone’s place assigned. Regardless, there were so many concerns to worry over that he thought it might be a good idea to get a jump on things. For reasons he could not quite put his finger on—he felt apprehensive.

Upon entering the security shack, he was met by Robot Nine and two of his men, all three staring at monitor pads and the images transmitted by the watchers. The robot was in a corner cubicle re-charging himself and had something he wished to report.

“Sir...Watcher number two detected a large Riktor just outside the fence ten minutes and fourteen seconds ago.”

Al frowned and replied, “Not what I wanted to hear first thing this morning, Robot Nine.”

The robot beeped and said. “I am sorry, Al Clark.”

Of all the days for a Riktor sighting, this was not the day he wanted to have this happen. They had seen no activity from the creatures in almost three weeks and were beginning to believe the village was relatively safe.

“Is he still there?”

His senior officer, Sid, answered before the little robot had a chance to reply, “No Chief, he looked around a little bit and then left. It was a bit scary there for a minute, though—it was close to the prisoner’s quarters.”

Al knew there was a risk involved with placing her so far out, but he had to isolate her from the rest of the colonists. When someone does something as serious as she did, it was best to keep them as far away from the victims as possible. He wanted to keep her safe long enough to have a trial.

Al asked the robot, “Robot Nine, how long before you’re finished re-charging?”

“I require another hour and twenty-one minutes sir.”

The chief also knew there would be pre-trial preparations going on in the prisoner’s quarters, “How many people are there at the jail?”

Sid replied, “The lawyer, the psychiatrist, your young friend, the guard...and the prisoner, of course.”

“Is Chris there?”

“Been there all night, sir.”

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