Haunter Grey Origin

By Ross C Miller

A millennia-old, one-sided war.
And a broken man must lead the Resistance.

The Unity had been destroying subhumans ... people like Castor Efrata-Landeez ... and their planets for four thousand years.
Castor is finally told to find Anselmi Taskinen on Termina Two. The old blind man could teach him no more. But Castor has no memory of his life before being trained in his personal numbers, deep in the bulboar mines. And the only way off Regia ... the Unity's prison planet ... is on a Unity Freighter.
As Castor stumbles along, he finds himself pushed deeper and deeper into a very one-sided war. ...as part of a weak and ineffective Resistance.
Wars for freedom are fought by heroes. Fleets are commanded by the experienced. ...not by someone who can't remember his past.

Haunter Grey Origin begins the story of a fight for freedom and liberty, and the dynamics between those people who must fight that war. ...qualified, or not.

Reviewed By Tammy Ruggles for Readers’ Favorite - 09/05/2020
5 Stars!!
Haunter Grey - Origin by Ross C Miller is a gripping science fiction novel that won't let you go. Set in the Last Ark universe, it still has the power to stand on its own, but it's always helpful to brush up on the overall story. In this entertaining offering, you have vicious predators to contend with, wars that have been waged by The Unity against sub-humans for thousands of years, a prison planet to escape, and a reluctant hero in Castor Efrata-Landeez, who can't recall his past or make sense of the numbers in his head, and is aided by his blind mentor, who can see the future.
The author's quick launch into action from the first page lets you know you're in for a careening ride, but there are thought-provoking themes along the way, like what does it take to be a hero, how far would you go to help others, and do you really have a purpose. The fast pace sets the stage for the plot and character arcs to come. Castor is a compelling character. He doesn't think he's cut out to be a leader, but that's what The Resistance needs to bring freedom to those dominated by The Unity. They have some skills. They just need someone to bring out the best in them and help them believe in themselves and in liberty itself. Garrant is an interesting character too. The events that unfold are intriguing and unpredictable. Miller's characters feel real, not caricature--they are imperfect, and that's what makes them relatable. His world-building and execution skills are outstanding, the dialogue crackles with life, and you really feel caught up in this nail-biting thriller. Fans of Alien and other space war sagas will love Haunter Grey - Origin by Ross C. Miller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Skye Run
• Release date: Dec 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733574143

Book preview

Prologue

STOP! The Officer of the Watch called into the sound pickup. The gate guard on the other end of the connection was talking so loud and fast that she couldn’t understand him. Obviously, there was an emergency. But she couldn’t do anything about it, if she didn’t know what happened. I can’t tell what you’re saying! Calm down! Slow down! Take a breath! First. Who is this?

There was a very short pause before the other person spoke. …but only a little more calmly, this time.

Gate two-one-seven, by the gardens. We’ve got a failed anchor. A burrower got in. It got Esmeralda Somers. Face down! Her son just took my weapons and went out for her. I need backup. I need weapons. I need the ERT! And I need them all five minutes ago!

On their way!

She hadn’t even waited for the gate guard to finish. As soon as she’d heard that an anchor had failed, she’d hit the both the alert and medical alarms. The teams were already scrambling into their sky-hauler. They didn’t have to load any equipment or weapons. The hauler was kept fully stocked with everything. …including armor, numerous weapons of all sorts, and all the medical gear it had room to carry. …everything that had ever been found to be useful in an emergency situation of this sort.

…and every other situation we’ve ever had. If they ever needed it in the last thousand years, it’s on the hauler.

How long! I’m in the open out here!

The OOW checked the map and the progress of the Emergency Response Teams scrolling down the side of her screen. They’d been through this so many times, the entire department had the whole routine down to a science. They’d had just as many drills as they had real emergencies.

…a lot. …in both cases. No matter how well we build the walls … stuff always gets in past them.

And they’d only know if this one was a drill, or not, after they were in the air. Unless they didn’t have to go very far, they’d be suited and ready for just about anything shortly after they got off the ground. All the gear was made to be put on as quickly as possible with the mockgrav compensation on full inside the hauler. As quickly as possible, in this case, meant without causing bodily damage to the wearers.

All the suit enhancements powered up as soon as the latches closed.

Three minutes to your location.

If it can happen any faster, I’d really appreciate it! There’s something really nasty going on out there, and I’m not even going to open the view port enough to look.

They’ll be breaking all the speed limits as it is. Two minutes, fifty seconds. Count ‘em.

Oh, yes, they’ll be breaking speed limits! They’ll be hauling-ass so fast … they’ll likely make a mess of the bay doors. I sent them the location and that an anchor was down with one victim, one lost. I didn’t hit the Drill Only alert. Anyone within range of the siren is on the ground so they don’t lose body parts as the hauler goes by.

The ERT would likely take the hauler out of the bay top first. The clearance was pretty slim on a normal basis. They had to keep the bay doors closed, normally, so they could make absolutely sure that nothing got in. Opening the door was automatic when the alarm got pushed. They’d tried roof-doors, once a long time ago. Those took too long to open. And there were other problems.

The bay door needed to be open and out of the way as quickly as possible. Dead anchors were far more than just a major problem. An unarmed gate guard, or anyone anywhere near a system failure of that sort just made it that much more deadly. There were always people in all the gardens. That they were in danger … was an understatement of epic proportions.

And he’d said that someone had been taken by a burrower.

Face down wasn’t just an emphatic descriptor. It was a piece of information that was vast and vital in its importance. Face down meant that the burrower had launched itself into the air from just under the surface of the ground. When it came down, it had engulfed her in one bite, hitting the ground face first. Something big enough to take a human face down was at least eight feet long and had multiple scores of teeth measuring more than a half a foot. And all those teeth would be covered with a paralytic neurotoxin. The absolute best that could be hoped for was that none of those teeth scraped the victim on the way. If they did, and the toxin was transferred, then whoever it was, very likely, was dead already.

The toxin was mostly used for the burrower’s victims they couldn’t take in one gulp. …although, in most cases, the toxin wasn’t needed. …for any of the earth-fauna, anyway. The earth animals couldn’t fight back after they’d been chewed. That burrowers had evolved like this spoke more about the different types of predators out beyond the wall. …and how vicious those were, causing the need for it.

The smaller burrowers didn’t have the toxin, yet. They usually went after calibar and other things that normally wouldn’t fight back as hard. They’d attack in swarms, taking large bites out of whatever it was they were after. Anything attacked by a swarm of the small burrowers, probably wouldn’t live as long as someone taken face down. …and it would certainly be a whole lot messier.

Even past that, though… A burrower large enough to take someone face down would have made a large tunnel coming in from under the wall. …large enough to easily accommodate its size on the return trip. …large enough so a swarm of them could come through once that tunnel was clear.

Oh, yes. The Emergency Response Team would be out there as quickly as possible. …whether the bay doors were all the way open, or not. …and they might even beat that three minutes by a slim margin.

Just stay with me, Two-One-Seven. Let me know if anything happens, the OOW said into the comm.

The gate guards knew the routines, too. They rotated duties between the gates and the various ERTs on a regular basis. They were all well-rehearsed and battle tested on both sides of those situations. But sometimes…

…like now … when a big one gets in … people can easily forget the procedures and put the whole team in danger.

Entire teams had been lost because of failures to follow procedures.

Lots of people had been lost to the Regian predators. …enough, in the last thousand-plus years, to heavily populate an entire world.

This world … in fact. …if they’d lived.

The humans hadn’t claimed much space on Regia, even though they’d been here for more than a millennium. They weren’t able to. They weren’t allowed to by the indigenous predators. …except for at a very slow and methodical rate. All of the indigenous fauna were predators. …vicious predators.

All. Of. Them.

If there was anything else out there, they hadn’t seen it. Of those they had seen … there were a dozen different species, and they’d likely find an undetermined number more if they could ever substantially expand the colony … the term voracious carnivore didn’t even begin to describe them accurately.

How’s it looking out there, Two-One-Seven?

She hadn’t heard anything for a few seconds. She’d been watching the clock. It had only been five seconds, but it would feel like five times that to Two-One-Seven. The best way to keep him stable was to keep him talking. There was very little anyone could do until the hauler touched down. Two-One-Seven would need everyone to sound calm and collected. His best chance of staying alive was staying right where he was and not panicking. It might add a little to his fear-factor by her taking everything just a little slower from here on, until the hauler got there, but time would seem to go by a little faster for him.

Whatever’s happening on the other side of the wall is still going on. It sounds like a full-scale war. It sounds like there’s a woman out there fighting a swarm. It could be Esmeralda.

That would be an absolute miracle. So many things would have had to go just right for her son to have recovered her. …no errors. …a minimum number of calibar and small burrowers. He’d have had to find the one that had his mother just as it came out of the other end of the tunnel. And he’d have had to kill the burrower and cut her out quickly. Any one of a hundred different things could be not just exactly perfect and they’d both be dead.

He had my gun, Two-One-Seven continued. Multiple shots were fired. There was a screech like I’ve never heard before. It sounded like something very big. If there is, it’s not possible that he could have gotten her out. Something that big would have killed him before he could have gotten two steps in.

I’m leaving this channel open, Two-One-Seven. You’ll be in on my comm with the hauler.

Four.

She toggled the commswitch for the hauler. They already had the main points, but she had to verify all those points vocally so they’d know the alert wasn’t an error.

"ERT One. This is Control. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill. Gate Two-One-Seven has a failed anchor. One civvie was been taken by a burrower. Face down. One civvie has gone outside to retrieve. Two-One-Seven is not armed."

Four, Control. Entry point?

Two-One-Seven. Where’s the borrower’s entry point?

I heard yelling. The Somers boy came straight out of the garden. It can’t be more than a hundred yards in. I didn’t get the chance to ask.

Hauler. Copy!

Four. Face down. It’ll be easy to spot at speed.

ETA?

One minute, thirty-four seconds. We’ll come in high and down close to the entry.

Two-One-Seven. Copy!

Four, Control.

*****

The hauler set down hard with a thump. It wasn’t a pretty landing. It didn’t have to be. Nothing was damaged but this piece of the broccoli section. …a big piece. …but if more predators got in, then this little damaged piece would hardly be the least amount of people’s worries. The people understood this. And they never complained. Someday … it could be them who the ERT came to help.

Two companies poured out of the hauler, one on each side, destroying even more of the garden, but it couldn’t be helped. They had to land next to the tunnel, and the tunnel was in the garden. While they did try not to trample any more than they had to, people didn’t exactly complain about this, either.

Control. We have the entry. We’re down. We have the gate.

They shouldn’t have planted a garden so close to the wall to begin with. Although … if you have to choose between houses and a garden … I guess the garden makes marginally more sense.

One company headed for the gate. The other headed for the hole the burrower had made.

One of the techs would have to chase a screamer-cart down the hole and find out the damage to the anchor bars. The holes were inclined downward, bottoming out at the anchors, because the burrower had to come up from more than thirty feet underground. The wall went down that far. The electrified anchors went down forty feet farther. The ground density was inhibitive at a depth of seventy feet, for most burrowers, to bother going down that far. Their normal food source would have had to fail completely for them to go down that far.

If an anchor failed, it was usually bent …which was easier to fix … or chewed through, and then bent. …which meant that the hundred-foot long anchor…

…minus however much is detached.

…would have to be pulled up from the top of the wall, and then another whole one pounded down to replace it.

The carts were called screamers, but the device itself was soundless. It was a small hard-wired remote-controlled roller-bot that travelled as far down the hole as they needed it to. It generated a massive static electricity field in front of it, which would stop any burrowers in the hole from advancing toward the compound.

The company spread out.

The rifles were set to rapid-fire.

All firearms were at the ready.

They approached the hole slowly and steadily.

The ground exploded behind one of the soldiers.

The thing sprang twelve feet into the air.

Its mouth was open wide, showing the six-inch teeth clearly as its arc peaked, and it started to fall. …face down over the soldier.

Dozens of pops sounded, like a holiday celebration, as the burrower was riddled with bullets.

The soldier dove to the side as soon as she saw what was happening.

When the burrower hit the ground, its teeth closed on her leg.

It thrashed madly.

She rolled out of the way.

Her leg was gone from the knee down.

GET THE HOT PLATE! the Unit Commander shouted.

More bullets riddled the burrower.

Into the ground! Make sure we’re clear!

Two burrowers coming through wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare. It was rarer when the second one chose not to follow the existing tunnel, and carved out a tunnel branching out from the first.

Bullets popped at odd intervals.

A second soldier ran over to her and knelt, taking out an odd-looking gun and an inhibitor strap.

Mirrah was unconscious.

That was the neurotoxin.

She had very little time.

The MedTech, Dale, worked as quickly as he could.

The inhibitor strap also worked for a tourniquet.

When it was tight, he turned it on and up to max.

He dialed the gun to the right setting for her weight.

Not waiting for any help, he opened the front of her suit wide.

She was pale.

Dale’s hands were shaking.

Another soldier dropped his things, and quickly got down onto the ground and started forcing air into her.

Matt got there and took the gun from Dale. This is why they shouldn’t put couples on the same ERT! Get out of the way!

Matt counted her ribs down from the top.

Another soldier came over and knelt at Mirrah’s knees. She flipped the switch on the paddle she held.

It started to glow a dark orange.

Matt found the space between the second and third ribs on her left. …his right … and pushed his finger into it.

He centered the gun over the place where his finger was, took his finer out, and pulled the trigger.

There was a whine as the gun pushed the needle into her chest.

After only a fraction of a second, the gun fired … putting the adrenaline strait into her heart.

The was another whine as the needle retracted.

Dale held up the leg that was part missing and peeled back her pants away from the end.

The bare bone ends had teeth marks.

Matt tossed the gun to the side and put one hand on her chest, over the spot of the injection. He put his left hand on his right and gave a quick hard push.

And another.

And another.

He counted. …not slow, but not quickly. With every number he pushed on Mirrah’s chest.

When he got to ten, he sat up, taking his hands off her.

Go, Tim!

The soldier with the hotplate pressed the surface against the raw end of Mirrah’s leg, cauterizing it. The plate sizzled. It was designed to cook everything instantly for a quarter of an inch. The smoke from the flash broiled meat curled up.

Tim forced six breaths of air into Mirrah, then sat back.

Matt started pushing on Mirrah’s chest and counting.

Dale! Get the monitor!

The soldier with the hotplate scissored the handle halves back and forth, unsticking the charred flesh from the plate.

The end of her leg was burned. It wouldn’t bleed anymore.

The scissors left a thin layer of leg meat on the plate. That would burn off easily.

Dale grabbed out the monitor and the contacts. He started taping the contacts to the places on Mirrah that they needed to go.

I’ve got you, baby, he told her unconscious form. You’ll be okay. We’ll get through this.

Tim did another set of breaths for Mirrah. Dale. Take this side! I’m getting dizzy. I’ll finish the monitor.

Tim moved to take Dale’s place.

Dale turned so he could start breathing for Mirrah.

Dale and Tim switched places after another three sets of breathing.

The monitor showed a flat line … cerebral … heart …lungs … when they stopped to see if she was breathing yet.

Matt grabbed up the gun again.

You’ll kill her! Dale tried to grab for the gun.

GET HIM IN BINDERS AND OUT OF HERE!!

Matt dialed up the dosage.

Tim was breathing for her.

Matt found the spot again and pulled the trigger.

It was two more long minutes of doing everything they could for her.

The line on the monitor remain flat.

Matt took a breath, leaning heavily with his hand on his legs.

Tim knew what that meant.

Matt look at Mirrah’s unconscious body.

With his right hand, he touched his forehead, his chest, his left shoulder, then his right.

He stood up.

Get the screamers down those holes! he yelled.

No one else had moved.

They were all watching for anything else that might be waiting. They were still ready to fire on anything that came up out of either of the holes, or if something made a new one.

After the first tunnel throat was sprayed with bullets, one of the soldiers dropped the screamer into it and guided it with knobs on either side of the screen that he’d folded out from his chest armor.

A second soldier ran back to the sky-hauler and came back with another cart.

They shot down this hole, too.

The screamer cart started easily down the second hole. The forward light on the cart shined down the tunnel. It would easily show if there were any side tunnels.

Check the top-lights! How many are out?!

Only one that we can see, Matt.

The two holes were about fifty feet apart.

Then they branched on this side.

I’ve got the branch. Registering light from unit two. Waiting here until it gets there, the first screamer driver called.

The static charge from the second would affect communications with the first if it kept going.

Mirrah was rolled onto a grav-board and floated back to the hauler.

I’m at the junction. No branches on this side. Bringing it back, the second screamer driver called. It was easier and faster just to shut it off and pull it back by the cable. The winch would lock and the drive gear would disengage when the power was shut off. The first one in the main tunnel could continue immediately.

Matt and Mirrah had been lovers a while back.

But that was then.

This was now.

She was under his command.

…and he’d done everything that he could to keep her alive.

It wasn’t enough.

And this was Regia.

The dead were dead.

Nothing was going to bring them back.

Remembering them only made you hurt.

Forget them … life goes on.

He’d already forgotten her name.

That was the only way to stay sane on Regia.

Continuing down, the first driver called. After a very short while, he called, Okay! I’m at the anchor! It’s been snapped. Tunnel’s clear!

Get the generator hooked up!

The screamer was running off power from the hauler. It had to have a constant source, or another burrower could come through.

Matt radioed back to Control. We lost one, here. Second burrower came through. We’re getting solo-power to the screamer. Tunnel’s clear. Bit through the anchor.

Construct is mobilizing now.

*****

The soldier handed the Gate Two-One-Seven guard a new gun, machete, and spear.

GUARDS!!! GET OUT HERE!! MAN DOWN!!

They all jumped.

It was a woman’s voice, shouting from the other side of the wall.

That’s impossible! Only Justin Somers went through! His mom wouldn’t have survived!

Get it open! Quick!

The urgency just went up.

Adrenaline shot through their systems.

The ERT took positions as the guard punched in the combination to open the door.

The team filed through, the first ones taking point and watching for anything that might move.

There was only a man on the ground.

He was severely chewed.

Is he alive? the team captain asked quickly.

Barely. But I don’t see how he’s going to stay that way.

Move! Let me get at him! The medic knelt beside Justin Somers. I haven’t lost one yet, and I’m not gonna start now. Get the gear over here! Fast!

There were dozens of dead burrowers and calibar within a very short distance. …a very scarily short distance.

Some calibar slowly crawled away.

They’d eaten their fill.

Some of those were attacked by smaller burrowers.

One of the soldiers shot every single one of the predators that could be seen.

Every now and then, a smaller burrower would bound up with a spray of dirt.

More bullets flew.

There was lots of blood. …human and otherwise.

I don’t see anyone! Where’d she go?

Who knows! She’s not here!

She couldn’t have gone anywhere! Not that fast! Not even straight out into the woods!

"A burrower must have gotten her!

That’s impossible! It would still be here!

So should she. But she ain’t!

It was a breach of procedure.

But there had obviously been a woman out here. It was a woman’s voice. …and it surely didn’t come from that mass of meat on the ground. …Justin Somers. It couldn’t have been him that yelled.

One of the shooters went slowly to retrieve the two weapons.

HEADS UP!

The team riddled the burrower all the way to the ground as its prey dove for the wall.

Calibar started swarming out of the trees. They were gliding from a good distance to cover the dead burrower. Everyone still watched all the ones in the air, though.

Shoot the ground! Clear an arc!

Single shots were fired into the ground, causing a feeding frenzy when a hiding burrower was hit.

Justin couldn’t have been the one using those weapons. They were too far out of reach. …and there were so many of his pieces missing, it would have been impossible to begin with. There wasn’t much of anything left of him to fight with.

The only thing close by was the machete. …and he couldn’t have held it.

The medic turned to his second. Get something in him to stop the bleeding! He was busy getting readings, hooking up various neural inhibitors and getting them set right. Justin had to stay awake. …which meant that all the pain couldn’t be shut off.

Get a reading on venom!

I’m not showing any on the places I’ve checked. It couldn’t have been a big one that did this.

It didn’t have to be. Trank him!

It’ll stop his heart!

Do it! We have to keep him alive long enough to get back. We gotta shut some of him down. We may be able to stabilize the rest of him!

Where’s the woman?

She sounded fine. She’s not here. Even better. I don’t know, and I don’t care how or why. He’s our priority.

Dat wass Grrigorri, an older man said, trying to watch everything that moved.

The rest of them did the jobs they had to do to guard everyone and get Justin back inside, and ready to transport.

I can never understand you, Lenka. What language is it that?

Is Standarrdt? You speek Standarrdt, too. No?

Okay. But what’s your accent? Geez!

Rrooshan. Grrans wantit to keep it frrum bing forrgottun. We always spoke wen I was liddel.

Great. So. What’d you call it?

Rrooshan.

No. Damn! The other thing!

Grrigorri.

A Gregory? What the hell is that?

Grrigorri. Say correcdtly. Grrigorri is watcherr ainjel.

A watcher angel? Are you nuts?

I don’t tink so. Nodlast time I chicked. No.

A few of his teammates looked at Lenka, trying to decide if he was joking or not.

Watcher Angel. One of the guys spit, disgusted, and observed as he motioned to indicate around them. Looks like it did a really good job.

Dis one steell leeves. No? Lenka’s accent was thick. My grrans tell uss bout menni tings back on Earrt. Dey tell uss bout deess ainjelss dat prrotict pipple. Dey watch overr evrryting and evrryone.

He’s on, the medic called.

Let’s go. File in. Watch close, the Team Lead barked.

They filed backwards through the door. Each called to the next as the signal to start moving, and guiding them back, so they wouldn’t have to take their attention off their surroundings. The Team Lead would be the last one back through the wall.

There’s something over there. On the ground. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t human. It looks like …

Damn! I see it. Looks like the spear is sticking out of its throat. Get on the horn with Control. Call for a rover to get some documentation on that thing, the Team Lead called. Tell ‘em get out here fast! It’s already being eaten!

He looked around quickly, bringing his rifle to point in the same direction he was looking.

He was going to be the last one to go inside.

He’d already let his attention wander far too far from where it should have been.

One of the shooters already inside started speaking with Control.

They’ll have a rover out here in about five minutes.

Five minutes is too long! It’ll be gone by then! You guys give it a good look. Keep in mind every detail. You’ll have to describe it for them.

The Team Lead started shooting. …an arc into the trees. …into the ground around where the … thing … was. If he could provide enough meat for everything that was thinking about taking a bite out of the thing, then it might last long enough for the biostudy people to get here and get a decent idea of what it was.

That thing isn’t forgettable. I may have nightmares for the next month!

With you on that one!

The door was closed hard and quickly when the Team Lead backed through it.

*****

He’s not going to be coherent. Even if he does say something, you probably won’t understand him. He’s tranked to the gills and missing half the inside of his mouth.

Then, if he answers, we can only get truth from him. Why is he that dosed?

They’re going to give him a brainfry dunk for a couple hours. He’s got more sulferant venom in him than blood right now. They’re boring inside his skull. The Brainfry will kill it all.

Damn. It’ll be a wonder if he survives that. …not to mention the sulferants.

Gotta be done. We may as well kill him now if we don’t. His whole system is on the gear now.

Is what’s left of him going to be worth saving?

His choice. Not mine. Hurry up. I gotta get this tube into his lungs.

The Team Lead put his hand on the side of what was left of Justin’s face. He tapped it slightly.

Justin! He spoke loudly. Who was out there with you? We didn’t see anyone. Justin. Can you hear me?

Justin’s eyes fluttered.

Justin. Who was out there with you?

Ain …zzull.

What? Say it clearly. I can’t tell what you’re saying.

Ain-zul. He tried, but that’s all that would come out. He was already mostly unconscious.

He ssays ainjel. Ainjel.

Angel. It can’t be.

Grrigorri. Diss wat I tell you. It wass Grrigorri!

*****

Part 1

A Past Lost

Chapter 1

Establishing roots – Meridian

Metri Landeez started farm-handing when he was young, having found a friend in one of the old-timers who lived in the village. Lexi was the old man’s name. But it had taken Metri a long time to learn it.

Lexi is da name I was borrn wit, the old man had finally told him one day. Wut is a name, ah? I will answerr to whateverr dey call me. And I git calledt many tings. Sum, nut so nice, ah? Da Grreenman is wut dey use musdly. Ittis enuff. The old man nodded sagely. You ken use dat one. Is comftable. …like dis old shirt, ah?

Lexi was working a soy farm. As Metri watched him, the Greenman seemed to be able to coax a soy plant from ground that was hard as steel and that would grow nothing else other than scrub and thorns. His knowledge of the lore of the land was unsurpassed, and his jobs changed as often as he could make it happen. He didn’t want to be tied down to only a single place.

If I stay afterr da crrop takes holdt … I woodt hyave nutting to do, ah? Tings I know … dey woodt be wasted. And dis planet … it is big, ah? Much to do. He nodded sagely, and repeated, Much to do.

But Greenman, Metri asked one day. If your skills are highly valued, why don’t you charge more for your service? After a while you wouldn’t have to work anymore.

Andt ware woodt be da fun, ah? Setting all day, whatch da sun go up andt down. No. My skills arre valluble. Yes. I couldt charrge morre. Andt da landt-owners woodt pay me. But my gift is frrom Godt. Godt’s gifts arre neverr forr only one perrson, ah? So, I do not charrge too much. I live. I worrk. I hyave wut I needt. …andt more, if I want. I do wut I love. And I will kip doing it til I no longerr ken. Wut couldt be better, ah? Life is goodt, Metrri. Godt has been verry goodt to me. Andt Godt steell is, ah?

Old Lexi taught Metri many things. …about plants, weather, dirt … about life and how everything is connected in some way. …sometimes in ways that you just can’t see until you look very closely. Over the years, Metri had stood in the rain, just tasting the air and feeling the wind, many-a-time, in order to learn the patterns and uncontrollable ways of nature. He’d lain on the ground digging with his fingers in the dirt, looking at the bugs and the seedlings, and tasting the soil to learn the rightness and wrongness of it. …and how to correct it if need be. Sometimes, problems were solved simply just by planting something else there first.

In time, Metri’s skills grew to be close to those of the old man. Lexi would let Metri do the hunting for what was. And then he’d ask Metri what needed to be done. Metri would answer, the Greenman would agree, and then they’d proceed on the course Metri had decided on. …with which the Greenman would also agree.

Goodt, Metrri. Goodt, the Greenman said to him one day. You know many goodt tings, now. You have seen da worrldt da way it wishes to be seen. You know wut it wandts, so it can do for us wut we ask. So few will do dat. So few carre. But you … yur a goodt boy. A goodt soul. You have da gift. Ittis yourr turrn to be da Grreenman, now, ah? I am goingk to rrest. My poorr oldt bones arre tiredt.

Old Lexi had patted him on the shoulder and walked away. His job at this farm was done. Metri stood there watching him.

Where did the time go? When did he get so old? And me…

The day the old man died was the first time that Metri had cried as an adult.

A short time after, a farmer hired Metri for a difficult area, knowing the relationship that the two Greenmen had and the value of the skills that the old man had passed on.

While Metri knew that he could ask nearly for the moon … one of them, anyway … and he would be given just about anything he asked for … he didn’t ask for quite as little as Lexi had. Not much more. But still a very slim amount more.

What Metri really wanted was his own farm. …his own roots. …and, eventually, as opposed to old Lexi, who’d always lived alone … a family.

It was a plan slow in its execution. But, after many years of hard work and putting his skills to good use, Metri married a servant girl.

At first, she seemed to have nothing, really, in her favor.

But she felt right.

Although … that wasn’t it, either.

He had made his decision to marry her after watching her one day.

…one very strange day...

*****

The girl was one he’d seen, occasionally, around the farm. He was under the assumption that she was a kitchen wench, as the females of the manor staff were most often called by the hands. Their paths didn’t cross very often.

One day, Metri had rounded a corner of one the main living quarters.

Fidrits were scavengers. And they were a particularly nasty species. They seemed to be angry all the time. …more often than not, preferring to attack without provocation. They could work their way into just about anything that wasn’t locked in a heavy metal container. And when they did, whatever it was they got into was usually completely contaminated and useless to everything but other fidrits. It was strictly against the rules, on most of the farms Metri had worked, to find one of these ever-present omnivores alive and leave it that way.

There was often a patch of field left separately for them, while the main fields had numerous traps around them. The idea was to give the fidrits their own section that they could get into and out of safely, so they might leave the rest of everything else alone. There were things they seemed to like more than others, and those were common in the separate sections. Mostly, it seemed to work.

As Metri had started around the corner, he’d seen the young woman on the ground, sitting on her feet. A fidrit had been caught in one of the traps, placed randomly around the farmhouse and barns to catch the pests. The fidrit had one of its hind legs caught in the trap, and it was in the process of gnawing off its foot in order to escape.

The young woman was holding a long stick between her teeth. She looked like she was drawing or writing on the ground in front of the fidrit with it. The fidrit paid very close attention to the stick where it touched the ground. While its attention was on the stick, she reached with both hands for the trap.

Metri knew she was going to be bitten. And when she was, she’d likely lose most of at least one finger. Fidrits were tough, and their teeth were sharp as razors. A full-grown adult fidrit could take a full half-dozen hits with the flat of a shovel blade before they started to slow. …during which time, they’d be jumping to get at your legs. It was easier just to use the edge and cut them in half. Then you only had to wait for five minutes before going anywhere near it. The part with the teeth would still be active. …just a little slower and less jumpy about it.

But the woman moved without fear.

She continued to write on the ground with the stick. She opened the trap. The fidrit’s leg had been pierced by one of the trap’s tines. As she held the trap from closing with both her hands, she nudged the leg free of the tine with a finger.

She touched it … on a very injured leg that had to be causing it a huge amount of pain … and she still didn’t get bit!!

After it was free, she moved the end of the stick to the side a little. The fidrit followed it, and she closed the trap, carefully. When her hands were free, she took the stick with one and stood up, continuing to scribble on the ground.

With one quick motion, she dragged the stick in a quarter circle, away from herself, and threw it. The fidrit was off in a flash. When it got to the stick, it didn’t slow, but kept on going. …heading straight for the field.

Metri stood there, still looking at the girl.

She’d looked up and had seen him as she threw the stick. …away from his direction.

He realized that he was sitting on the ground, leaned back against the house. He wasn’t sure how he got there.

His heart was beating hard.

That … is … impossible!

She showed no surprise, looking at him. Instead, she wiped her hands on her apron and came to him. She squatted down next to him and put her hand on the side of his face. She stroked his cheek lightly with her thumb.

How…

She put one finger up, interrupting him.

She pointed at him. Then she tapped his chest over his heart and pointed up. She moved her hands in a wide arc, to indicate everything. She ended the arc like she was scooping it all up, and then she took his hand, like she was putting something in it. Then she tapped his heart again.

She’s telling me I have a gift from God. She knows I’m the Greenman.

Then she repeated the motions, ending with tapping over her own heart.

You … have a gift from God, too, he said softly.

She put her hand back on his face, smiled, and nodded.

And she is beautiful.

The way he saw her now was completely different than before. Before, he thought she’d been … just an average woman. Not particularly noticeable, but not necessarily someone he’d rather look away from. Now … now when he looked at her, he could tell that … she must have been making herself look that way on purpose. …somehow. She actually changed … her face changed its lines. Not a lot. But enough. …enough to make him understand that he’d been seeing what must have been a mask, and what he was seeing now was the truth. Her features softened. The sides of her eyes came up and wrinkled as she smiled.

Always look closely at things, Lexi told me. Look closely and you’ll see the truth.

What he was seeing now … was exactly the truth of her.

And as he gazed into those eyes … he was lost in them.

She said nothing while she looked at his eyes. She just sat there silently, as if she knew what was happening to him. …inside of him. …because she was allowing him to see who she was. …and she was doing so … simply because she wanted him to see her.

Eventually, she stood, and held out her hand to help him up.

When he was standing, she moved closer to steady him. His arm, naturally, went around her. She looked at him, her eyebrows raised in question, and nodded. …like she was asking.

I’m okay. What did…

She put a finger gently to his lips, preventing the rest of the question. After wrapping her arms around him and pressing against him briefly, she continued toward the house. Metri stared after her for a moment. As he started toward the barn, his confusion showed in his stride.

After Metri finally found the path through his confusion, he also understood what was causing it. His love for the land … had somehow … branched. His confusion was simply because that love … now … included her. …and it included her to a degree that astonished him.

*****

Metri was paid well, although he refused the permanent job when it was offered to him. …as both he and old Lexi always had. He calculated that he had around two more years left on this farm, before the section he’d been working on would be functional on its own. By then, he should be able to afford a large piece of land. …one that he had already decided on just where it would be. It was generally considered unusable, being mostly scrub-covered rock almost all the way in from the coast. The only ones who went there at any time were the gimcha that lived in the caves. Being of a lesser value to just about anyone but him, it would be pretty cheap. The government owned it only because no one wanted it, he knew. And he knew it was for sale because it wasn’t good for anything they might want it for, either.

But he was the Greenman.

And gimcha ate fish.

And the gimcha manure could be harvested.

And that would be a base for building good soil.

And there was a huge amount of gimcha, so there would be a plentiful, renewable, and … hopefully … easily collectible source for the soil base.

And that land would be his.

And that land would grow what he put there. It might take time to get it prepared … and it would be hard work in the process … but he was used to that. He and Old Lexi had done their share of hard work and more. But, just by virtue of the fact that it would be his land…

It might not make the work any easier. …but it’ll still be mine.

The other part of his life goal … having not just a farm of his own, but a family… It seemed like that might be on its way to happening, too. While he wasn’t anywhere near as sure about how he was going to realize that second part, he believed that it was advancing in that general direction. …more or less.

He still didn’t know her name.

But he knew that she was the one.

And I’m not ever going to call her Wench, as everyone else does.

Neither one of the two interfered with the other’s job. Nor did they make any demands on the other one’s time. But each found or made both the time and the reason to pass near the other and give a little smile. …a light touch.

Sometimes, she would bring water out for him and the people assigned to work with him. He’d stop and take the water she offered. When he was finished, he’d always lock eyes with her, nod, and say, Thank you, Miss. I appreciate it. And she would always change to her pretty face for him, and give him a smile.

And sometimes he’d be teased for it. It was all good natured, though.

But that part of his goals … marrying … marrying her…

And I can hear Old Lexi, now. Therre ittis, ah? Wut tuk you solong, ah? You knew. Go wit wut you know. …just like he taught me at the beginning, when I started learning from him. Metri laughed a little, thinking about it. Old Lexi would have patted him on his shoulder and nodded his approval. But, marrying her. Now that it’s in those terms… Yes. Old Lexi would have seen it for what it was right at the beginning. Marrying her is exactly what needs to happen.

But marrying her was something he wasn’t going to be able to make happen the way he could grow things. He couldn’t take the next step by himself. …and he was very far on unfamiliar ground thinking about what he might do next in that direction.

If she was something green … she wouldn’t make my brain itch so.

But, soon, Metri’s resolve firmed … he’d decided that the itch in his brain just wasn’t going to stop until he did something about it.

You can fix the symptoms … or you can solve the problem. If you fix the symptoms, the problem doesn’t solve itself. There’s only one way I’m going to solve this one.

He finally went and asked the land owner, Mr. Ling, if the woman had a contract with him.

Which one? Ling had asked.

The mute, sir, Metri answered. Soon after that first day, he’d found out that she just couldn’t speak. If so, I’d like to buy it out, please.

That could set his land goal back a while, depending on the value of that contract. But it had gotten to the point where, while his desire for his own land could wait, his need to be with her … to be able to look into those beautiful and bottomless eyes for longer than only just a second or two, at any given time … to be able to touch her face … to hold her in his arms … instead of just a brief brush of their hands … could not.

Even as he asked about her situation, Metri still didn’t even know her name. He had asked about that, too. Apparently, no one knew what it was. She answered to Wench. That was what the kitchen master had called her when she was young. No one had ever given any thought to do anything about it from there.

She’d been an orphan, as far as anyone knew … and mute … and starving … when she showed up one day begging for food. Rather than just turning her away, food was given to her. But instead of leaving, she stayed to help as she might be able. She continued to help, making sure she wasn’t ever in the way, doing whatever she thought they needed help to do. As soon as someone mentioned something that needed doing, she rushed to accomplish it. The kitchen master let her wash in the servants’ quarters, instead of the troth in the barn as she’d been doing. …along with washing the ragged clothes that she’d been wearing. He replaced those, as well, out of his personal funds.

The wench was very serious when she was young. She had no problems hearing, and she had taken instruction well. She never gave anything less than her very best effort. Mr. Ling decided to let her stay when the kitchen master made his request and recommendation.

Now, why, Mr. Greenman, would you want to buy her contract? Ling asked seriously.

I believe I’m in love with her, sir. Would that I might marry her.

Ah. I see. Ling nodded. There had been rumors. And this verified their truth. I would very much like to sell her contract to you, he said, but paused.

Metri could only think the worst.

But, Ling continued. She has no contract with this estate to sell, Ling admitted. "She was in need of a home, when she was very young. She worked hard. We took her in. And she has served this household very well from the day she arrived. While she is a credit to my staff, and I really wouldn’t prefer to lose her, she may go with you if she wishes … but only if that is her wish … and you both will have my blessings."

Metri breathed a sigh of relief. Thank you, sir.

On one condition. Ling quickly amended belatedly.

But it seemed to Metri that slight delay was completely intentional. He hoped Mr. Ling wasn’t going to demand that he stay and work here. He started to think very fast, trying to find a way he might be able to get around such a demand.

Why borrow troubles, Old Lexi would have said. Hear him first.

Sir?

You may take her, of course, if she agrees. My single condition… Ling paused for a moment, is that you have your wedding, here, at my house.

Metri lowered his face for a moment. When he lifted it, he answered, If she agrees, then that is far more than I could wish, already. To do … have here … that is … far more than I could reasonably take from you.

Pish posh, boy. You can’t unreasonably take what you’ve been freely given. You’ll accept my condition before I’ll allow you to ask her. You’ve done far more for the sake of this farm than you’ve allowed me to pay you for. You live like a hermit, taking nearly nothing. …only a very small fraction of what you deserve. Your only other option, which you’ve already rejected … and more than once, I might add … is to stay here permanently.

Then it appears, sir, that I have no choice. I humbly accept your gracious offer, presuming that she will accept mine.

A very wise choice, Mr. Greenman. Ling smiled triumphantly as he buzzed the kitchen.

Yes, sir. What may I get for you? the kitchen master asked.

Bring the mute wench to my office, if you would please.

Has she done something untoward, sir? I will take full responsibility for it, if she has and if I may.

Everything is fine. There is no ill will to be found in this matter. Thank you. He took his finger off the comm button.