STORIES
TWELVE
"Walk with me," Halikaarn Jaad said to Captain John Hart. The Halikaarn had found John in a deeply-shadowed library, grimly looking over atlases and maps of the planet. John raised an eyebrow but quickly stood and wordlessly followed the Erasmii leader out of the room and through the door of the building into the bright light of midday.
It was hot. John shrugged off his jacket and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. The Halikaarn motioned toward a small bench and John dropped his coat on top of it.
"Where are we going, Halikaarn?"
"Please, call me Ecba, Captain Hart, that is my, how do you say, given name. The name by which my friends refer to me."
John nodded. "Okay, Ecba. Then please… call me John. And where are we going?"
Ecba pointed up a steep slope off to their left. "We are ascending the hill," he said.
"More of a mountain than a hill, actually," John muttered under his breath.
"Pardon me?"
"That sounds good, Ecba. Lead on!"
The two men walked in silence for a time, the hardened road becoming a gravel path and then eventually a winding dirt trail.
The dry scrubland of the city abruptly transformed into an oasis of sorts. Somehow the Erasmii had found water and used it to raise vines, grain and all manner of trees that yielded fruits and oils while casting dappled shade on the path up the slope.
John noticed the temperature dropped a little, the breeze freshened with every step. The effort to keep climbing kept him warm, but when they'd reached a suitable altitude to stop and enjoy the view, and nibble on the fruits they'd pilfered along the way, his sweat dried instantly in the cool, dry wind and he felt a slight chill.
The whitewashed buildings of the Erasmus capital were laid out below them, basking – or maybe the proper word was baking – in the intense heat of the high noon sun. Colorful insects flew around John's head but there weren't enough of them to be obnoxious. They were kept in check, he guessed, by the birds, who sang from perches in the trees and other lush vegetation. "This is beautiful!" John said with a smile, absolutely meaning it.
Ecba nodded and then after a long pause replied, "Let's go up a bit further."
They passed the upper limit of the Erasmii orchards and wandered through a belt of twisted gnarled trees to a sloping meadow dusted with what, from a distance, had looked to John like frost. But it was actually a carpet of tiny white wildflowers. John Hart caught his breath and thought of Wil, who would've been enchanted by this place; he was certain of it.
The two men walked a bit farther and then sat on the exposed root of a tree.
"These trees are the oldest living things on Erasmus," Ecba explained. "Many cubic feet of earth had to be removed, and many more moved, to build this grove."
John nodded. He'd been around the block a few times and he knew where this conversation was heading. He inwardly shrugged and resisted an impulse to roll his eyes – what he did for love! Still, he had promised Wil that he would try, and try his best he would; besides he really had nothing better to do.
"This is amazing and it is beautiful, Ecba, but it is not unique in the galaxy. I'm sure it was hard work to create it – nothing this beautiful comes easily, but hard work never killed anyone and that is exactly what you are up against with the Aedui. Only it isn't anyone, it is everyone who will die if you do not leave this world of yours."
The Halikaarn nodded sadly, thoughtfully, and then stood and motioned for John to follow him even farther up the slope. They came across a bathhouse, constructed where steaming water was sluiced down from natural hot springs. John could smell the heat and the sulfur.
"I'm not sure of your word for it," said Ecba. "This mountain is an opening, or rupture, in the planet's surface which allows hot molten rock, ashes and gas to escape from below the surface."
"Volcano."
"Pardon?"
"We call these mountains volcanoes."
Shit! They live on the side of a fucking active volcano, John thought.
Ecba nodded his head. "Do I need to say anything else?"
"No, you don't." If he was good at anything, John Hart was good at knowing when he was beaten. Heaven knew it had happened to him enough in his life. If anything, he was an expert.
There was a long period of silence between the two men as the birds continued to sing.
Finally the Halikaarn spoke, "I would like you to dine with me tonight. Perhaps your… mate will return in time?"
John raised his right wrist and then remembered the 'mate' Ecba referred to was in possession of his leather strap. Still, he kept an old, battered timepiece in one of his pants' pockets and pulled it out of its hiding place, checked the time, and nodded. "She should be back soon, and dinner sounds wonderful. Thank you."
"Good!" Ecba turned and started walking back down the path, toward his sun-drenched city which, John thought morosely, would soon be no more.