Chapter 9: Further Travails

The next day was more of the same. Behind on their order, they used their time wisely, cutting more bamboo without overly stressing the local ecological balance. Meaning they struggling through the water and mud to pick from all-new locations.

Despite the delays, Tims hadn’t returned, notwithstanding Ty’s suggestion he drop off his recently acquired flint axe and once paid, they’d deliver them together. With no idea the delay’s cause, they debated returning to investigate. The women argued against it, resisting his own references about trusting others achieving things on their own. No one worried any less, as something seemed to be up.

The next day, having mostly kept up with their bamboo requirements—including Biscuit’s larger enclosure—they decided they needed to move it, as he’d already chewed through much of the grass. Which wasn’t particularly easy to either chew or digest, so they needed to consider alternatives, like some local hay variants.

They were just getting started when Biscuit stiffened, focusing on something behind them. Turning to see what had frightened her?, they couldn’t see it immediately, but eventually saw a lone, still figure lying on the grass.

Without further upsetting Biscuit, Ty indicated the area behind him. “Apparently, we have another visitor,” he stated sotto voce, “I’ll keep Biscuit calm, you two investigate.”

Exchanging glances, Anne cocked her head. “Is that really the best option?” Resting her hand against Biscuit’s side, momentarily startling it, he quickly settled down again. “Sure, he’s used to you, yet as you’ve noted, these returnees seem a reward for your successes and are thus directly related in some way to you personally.”

“We can handle your Biscuit,” Tanya assured him. “He clearly trusts you, though he’s been around us and we’ve clearly acquired your distinctive scent, so he’ll also be fine with us.”

“Fine, just call if he seems unsettled.” Stepping away, he ducked under the babfoo enclosure. Nearing her, he scanned the area, alerting the girls to a large metallic, easily identifiable reflective surface. Too large for both women to carry, they didn’t respond, merely acknowledging it.

Slowly approaching, not intending to scare her more than necessary, he knelt, noticing it was a young girl. He clearly didn’t recognize her, but it didn’t mean anything, since they rarely remembered anything. Yet...

Reaching out, he gently prodded her. Her eyes popped open, quickly glancing around without rising. So he remained beside her, waiting her out. He had her attention, any more was overkill.

She cautiously sat, wiping her eyes. She was young, obviously older than his three girls. Clearly an adult in modern human culture, though not very mature. They’d see how readily someone older adapted, though none of the returnees had any issues quickly adapting to anything.

Stiffening, sensing something behind her, she turned towards him and startled, pulled back and stiffened, prepared to flee.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed. “You just awoke. Don’t fret over your attire either, as we all appear sans clothing when we first arrived.”

“We?” she asked, turning further, leaping back and loudly gasping seeing the monstrous creature, also unsettling the already nervous Biscuit. She scrambled further back. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a primitive plow horse. Consider how much ground it can clear. But what you’re seeing around you, is each of us human ‘returnees’ were somehow transferred to a stone-age alien world of Torrol-ro. Don’t worry about communicating, somehow it’s already resolved. How, we don’t yet understand.”

“That’s...” she began, before freezing, her brow crinkling.

“What?” he pressed. “What were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she insisted. “It’s nothing, as I clearly don’t recognize anything here.”

“That’s an unfortunate side-effect of the transfer. It screws up our short-term memories. Yet, you hesitated. We’ve discovered, the best way of recalling details, is focusing on things which most often triggers those memories. So, the sooner you learn how to trigger your own memories, the better you’ll cope.”

“I ... you seem...”

“Come on, out with it,” he waved her on, urging her to continue. “I’m clearly triggering something, some distant, obscure memory you can’t yet recall. So focus on what about my appearance is triggering the response. What specifically is it about how I look?”

She opened her mouth, shutting it again. “Why do I think you already know the answer?”

“I’ve been here the longest, and thus I’m the most experienced figuring out details of my past. So again, answer the question.”

“It is ... it’s nothing specific, yet you look similar to someone I guess I once knew.”

“Good, now examine that. What is it about my features which triggers that response. My age, my height or my dreamy blue eyes?”

She giggled, sitting up again. “Your eyes are anything but blue.”

“True, they’re actually hazel, meaning they reflect whatever they’re near. Thus, they’re often the same color as a girlfriends’ eyes or hair. It’s a rare feature, though hardly uncommon. Most simply never consider it unless they live with someone long enough to notice.”

“I guess it’s maybe the nose, the expanse of your forehead. Again, I really can’t figure it out.”

“Once more, consider it fully.” He grinned fondly at her. “Do you know anyone with those same features?”

“No, you just said I won’t remember anyone el—”

“Ah, we finally triggered a memory. Let’s hear it.”

“Again, why ask if you already know?”

“Because, my dear, you already know as much as I do.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a puffer fish, then her eye lite in recognition as she reached up, touching her nose and across her forehead. “We’re ... we’re related?”

“Most likely,” he hedged. “For some inexplicable reason, those sent back all seem to be related to me in some way. My sister, an ex-girlfriend, so it makes sense you would be too.” He extended his hand, lifting her to her feet. “Come, let me introduce you.”

“Uh,” she asked hesitantly, “are you sure it’s safe?”

“Don’t worry, as long as he’s fed, Biscuit is a pussycat. But back him into a corner and he’s unpredictable. So, don’t surprise him and you’ll be fine.”

“So, no, he’s not.”

“He trusts me and if I personally vouch for you, he’ll trust you too, once he gets to know you.”

Though she moved cautiously, she was eager to meet the trio.

“What’s with the odd coloration?”

“It’s their prolonged exposure to their dual suns. You’ll notice those suns also oddly colored, much dimmer than ours. Over the millennia, they’ll slowly spread further apart, and the natives’ coloration will gradually diminish. Though it’s also why my eye color often matches their light, rather than anything I’m near.”

“You’ve clearly been here, way too long!” she observed, grinning.

“I tend to talk incessantly, mostly filling the awkward silences, yet ... it’s also the best way to trigger forgotten yet still familiar memories. We’ve learned more about our history from the other returnees, than we ever would on our own. It’s a gift which keeps returning. An ever recurring present, as it were.”

“Tanya, this is our newest guest. Anna is my sister. While I’m Ty, short for Tyler, Dean.” He turned, partially bowing. “And this is...”

“Uh,” her face clouded then suddenly brightened. “Dean? I’ve heard that surname before. It’s clearly not mine, though I know it somehow. Maybe a distant relative?”

“Or probably someone much closer,” Anna hinted, “say maybe someone your mother once knew? Time seems to dilate significantly here, so we’re each much older than when we last saw Ty.”

“My mother? You mean...?” her eyes suddenly dilated, she staring at Ty.

“You’re ... you are my ... father?”

“The likeness is too close to be accidental,” Tanya noted. “You obviously share the same genes and since they’re so similar, likely both pairs, the maternal and paternal DNA.”

“Damn! That’s why I kept asking whether you already knew who I was. You knew the whole time, didn’t you?”

“Again, I have no conscious memory of you, but yes, I recognized you as someone I should remember. And once I got that far, it didn’t take a nuclear engineer to figure out the rest.”

“Uh, who’s your mother? Maybe it’ll help us recall too,” Tanya suggested.

“She’s...” her face clouded again, then she stared at them all. “Her name was Silvia, Silvia Simmons. Which means I’m ... Tilla,” she exclaimed.

“Tilla, an unmistakable combination of Ty and Silvia.” Anna considered her brother. “Trigger any familial memories?”

“Uh, it’s still a blur, though I’m getting faint images of someone familiar. Long blond hair, a cute button nose and...”

“What?” Tanya demanded.

Ty shook his head. “It’s gone. Give it time, hopefully it’ll eventually return. Yet, as of now, I have no memory of ever being married, triggers or no.”

“Maybe you weren’t. You may have dated, vanishing before she realized she was pregnant. Otherwise, Tilla would likely have trigged at your name.”

“Uh, I hate interrupting,” Tilla interrupted, “but what do I need to know to survive here?” She slowly turned, taking in the odd vegetation surrounding her, finally noticing the most obvious item. “Is that a steel anvil? If so, how did it ever get here?”

“That’s another thing about us returnees,” Anna said “We’re not Ty’s only reward for significant advances. Every time one of us arrives, we also bring a specific, reliable, inexhaustible tool. Like his crossbow.”

“Crossbow? How would that work? They’re big, heavy and hardly subtle. Plus, they’d likely embed themselves so deeply, you’d never be able to recover them. That’s the very definition of ‘exhaustible’ supplies.”

“No,” Anna corrected. “His is a specialty model, made of nonreflective metal and very small and exceptionally strong, not needing a lousy wood brace. It’s likely titanium, not steel, as it’s also incredibly lightweight and easily hidden behind his back, with nothing to give it away, especially in the dark.”

“What’s more,” he extracted one, displaying it to her, “rather than firing wooden arrows, the darts are the same nonreflective reinforced titanium, reaching terminal velocity soon after firing.” Keeping the dart in hand, he extracted his crossbow. “They’re effectively spring loaded, so it doesn’t take much effort to prepare on the fly, with few, if any, accidental misfires.”

He then raised and fired it in one smooth motion, causing everyone present to jump, gasping. It took the others a moment to regroup.

“It’s a handy weapon, virtually invisible. Have any spares?”

“It’s these odd dual suns, with no reflective surfaces, there’s not enough light to spot it. Which means, someone knew a hell of lot about this world at this time. An incredibly precise amount of detailed information. It also provides the heft necessary to penetrate the largest hidden obstructions.”

“That’s the thing about his rewards. We were just discussing how to craft a flint plow, large enough for Biscuit to tow, and poof, this one appears the day we mentioned it. So clearly, they’re somehow listening in on us, monitoring his progress. They obviously sent us back to achieve a specific result, which is why, when he does good, they encourage him. Which, if they also listen in beneath the furs too, they also know what we’re up to and likely also reward him for bedding younger girls, potentially affecting the native’s DNA.”

“It’s ingenious,” Tanya noted. “Anything he does to further advance things here, the greater his reward. Just don’t ask us what else they equipped him with.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Because it’s too unsettling, revealing just how thoroughly they’ve invested in his eventual success.”

“But as far as your fitting in and defending yourself, trust me, when your father finishes with you, you’ll be the among best hunter-warriors there is. He trained everyone here, which is significant, as he’s an equal-opportunity employer. So, you’ll definitely earn your keep.”

Tanya chuckled. “In a purely scavenger society, anyone who can provide fresh, cooked meat, effectively changes everything. Consider it, would you balk at anything someone providing your daily substance says?”

“The mothers who’re joining us,” Tanya explained, “are especially appreciative knowing how to protect their children from attack. They’ll likely never be as productive of hunters, yet it still helps, knowing your children will be safe, whatever happens.”

“So again, I’m noticing something you’re decidedly not saying. What are you so carefully avoiding?”

“He mostly attracts women and focuses on younger girls, as first menstruation typically defines a woman here. He definitely doesn’t like them nearly so young, yet after a time, when they spend so much time working side-by-side, over multiple days or weeks at time, they...”

“Yeah, it’s difficult missing the obvious inferences there. So, when can I meet one of his young girls? As I’m eager to see what the attraction is. It’s clearly mutual for a reason, rather than simply proximity.”

“See,” Tanya said, gazing at Ty. “She’s a clever one, not missing a beat. She’ll probably make a better warrior than any of us, proving your point once again.”

“It’s sad, yet, unavoidable,” he admitted, shrugging helplessly.

“There’s just something about him,” Anna reflected, “which everyone seems to inherently trust, even wild animals, like Biscuit here. It’s his particular knack and why everyone listens to everything he says, just so they can remain near him.”

“Who the hell names a monster horse, Biscuit?” she asked.

“It was in reference to Seabiscuit, the famous racehorse of years past—well before we appeared here.”

“Actually, he wanted to call her Horsey Biscuit, so we compromised, as at least Biscuit doesn’t make our skin crawl!” Tanya complained.

“Yeah, I definitely prefer Biscuit to that. Good choice!”

“If you push back hard enough, he’s quick to compromise, though not before he teases you for a few hours though.”