An hour later, they were moving steadily onward, toward the cluster of rocks, and the mountain pass beyond that.

Ethan was on point, walking a few yards ahead of the group to give their rodent friends fair warning. Behind him, the scientists made excited remarks about new plants and bugs while the Marines engaged in casual conversation.

"Say, Reaper, once we get all settled in and comfy, you suppose Captain Marshall is gonna want to flip you for the job of Sheriff?" Lancer asked.

"What the hell's a sheriff?"

"Don't you read history, Stake?" Lancer quipped. "The sheriff was the law in an old west town."

Mortar laughed. "Old west? God, Lancer, that's not history, that's ancient history."

"Well how are you planning your golden years, Mortar?" Flash asked. "Providing you live that long?"

"Me?" Mortar sniffed. "Gonna secure me a few hundred acres of prime farm land. That's what I'm doing. Something with a river down the middle, and lots of those big huge cows."

"You, a farmer?" Colonel Patterson snorted. "You even know how to get your hands dirty, Mortar?"

"Oh, Reaper, you wound me."

Ethan moved further out ahead of the group, listening to their laughter as he focused on the rocks. They were closer now, and his HUD was picking up more detail.

"Reaper, this is Ghost, I'm going to take a jog ahead and scout out that outcrop."

"Good idea, Ghost," Patterson replied. "Plenty of spots for things to be hiding up there. Mortar, go with Ghost."

"Yes, sir."

Ethan didn't wait for Mortar to catch up. He started into a jog, both lenses down so he could scan the area as he went. Something about the formation ahead had been bothering him since they'd first stepped out of the forest, but he had nothing to explain why. The HUD assured him it was merely rock, with no important pattern suggesting otherwise. There were other rocks scattered around, and several bushes of a shrub Lydia's people sampled two hours ago, then beyond that the ground opened up again into flat grassland as far as the scanners could read.

Mortar was only a few yards behind, keeping an easy pace.

"Feels good to get out and stretch a bit," he said as he jogged along behind Ethan. "Work up a manly sweat."

"You'll do plenty of that working a farm," Ethan joked.

They'd reached the leading edge of the rocks, so he slowed his pace, scanning the area for signs of their fanged predator. He waved for Mortar to go around the left, while he took a path straight to the formation that had him so curious.

"Nothing larger than these rodents around here," Mortar said as he fanned out. "Hey, have you notice there's nothing in the air around this place?"

"What?" Ethan was barely registering the banter. He stepped around a boulder and came face to face with what had been bothering him for days now.

"No birds," Mortar continued. "I know Earth used to have birds."

In the dark, it looked exactly like a massive pile of rock, crumbling and covered in what had to be centuries of dirt and clumps of grass.

"There were loads of types, too. Species, I mean. Lots of different kinds of birds depending on where you were," Mortar said as he circled around. "At least we still had bats, back home. Not a lot, but if you were out at night, you stood a chance of seeing one or two."

Ethan walked around the formation, letting his HUD take readings from all angles of the massive structure.

"Maybe we're too early in this planet's history, ya think?" Mortar asked. "Maybe birds haven't come along yet."

"Ghost, you've been staring at that rock a while now, report."

Ethan lowered his rifle and reached out to rub some dirt off a flat section. "I've got a history question for you, Reaper," he said, clearing away layers and layers of dirt. "When did Earth Command send out the first light drive probes?"

"That's too easy," Flash answered over the com. "They launched the Starlight probes back in 2245. Eight hundred years ago."

"Yeah, it was one of those that found 581c," Wingman added. "Three of 'em never transmitted back, though."

Ethan directed his lens at the cleared section. "Take a look at this." He flipped a transmit switch on the headgear and the image he was seeing was sent to every headset in the group, and recorded by Sentinel, but he read it aloud for effect.

"Starlight Probe A-3. United Earth Command, 2245."

Mortar rushed around the rock and dirt and stopped beside Ethan, whistling in surprise. "No wonder Earth never knew this planet was here. Damn probe crashed, never sent the data back."

The others arrived a few minutes later and began clearing away as much of the dirt and debris as they could, exposing the ancient probe to see if there were any salvageable parts or pieces. Most of the structure had smashed up on landing, probably due to a faulty chute that ripped open during decent. The belly of the probe was torn open, most likely on impact, and hundreds of years of exposure to the elements had effectively gutted it, leaving only an empty shell to gather generations of dust as it slowly became a part of the landscape.

Colonel Patterson ordered camp set up once again using the back of a massive rock and the two mobile units for safety while the group explored their discovery.

Ethan felt little satisfaction. He'd recognized the structure, for some reason, as being less than natural, but the reality was less than shattering.

An ancient Earth probe, one of several that had been launched into space eight hundred years ago, in search of new worlds. Unmanned and stuffed with information about Earth and the human race, very few had ever reported back.

Those who had safely reached planets and dutifully sent back their information had been investigated, only to find their worlds unlivable. Giese 581c was the last, and the only one to show an ability to sustain human life. It was deemed their last hope, in humanity's time of dying.

He was patrolling the area, checking for any debris that might have some use, while the others made camp and contemplated the What If of Starlight Probe A-3. The ground was clear dirt here, no grasses or alien flower-eating rabbits, but so far no fanged predators, either.

Ethan's stomach growled, and he'd just decided to head back and not have a cup of coffee when something caught his eye. There was something growing on the rock beside him, giving off a slight color, as if the rock itself were damaged.

He flicked on the rifle's light and directed the beam over the face of the rock.

"Oh shit."

___________________________________________

"What does it mean?" Mortar asked in a shaky voice.

"Is this a joke? Ghost? You're just havin' one over on us," Lancer insisted.

"It can't mean what it looks like," Punch declared.

Ethan was holding his light over the markings while Doctor Snyder and Lydia copied them down.

"These probes were sent out carrying information, as well as instruments to record and transmit," Doctor Snyder was explaining. "They would have had an onboard recording as well as a solid transcript of the words in written English. Most likely on a gold plate."

"Having audible and written language would make it easier for whoever found it to decipher the meaning," Lydia added. "Presumably. We've never actually found intelligent life anywhere."

"But what does it mean?" Mortar asked again.

"It means what it means," Ethan replied calmly. "The words the probe was carrying were heard, and copied."

"Probably an attempt to understand them," Lydia agreed. "They would be copied along with the recording as it played back in an attempt to match the markings with the sounds."

"And the photos," Doctor Snyder interjected. "There were matching images, labeled and including a recording of each word, if I recall my history correctly."

"You do," Colonel Patterson said as he approached. "I've just relayed all of this back to the group. There's a historian back there, Ralph somethingorother, who knew exactly what these probes contained."

"So, we're not alone here." Mortar shifted from one foot to another, glancing around as he did. "What are they, then, huh? Humans? How could humans be here before us? Where are they now? Huh? Why haven't we seen any of them?"

"Mortar, report back to camp and see Doctor Keller," Patterson ordered.

"But sir, this means there's people here! They've probably been watching us all along. What if they're responsible for the ship blowing up?"

"Punch, escort Mortar to Doctor Keller!" Ethan ordered.

"Yes, sir!" He grabbed his comrade by the arm and pulled him away from the small group. "Don’t be an idiot, Mortar!"

Ethan turned his attention back to the markings on the rock wall. Someone, or some thing, had etched the words Earth, Sol, Humans, One, Two, Three, Four, and then the entire English alphabet using something hard enough to leave permanent marks in the stone.

Beneath that were drawings of Earth and it's fellow planets orbiting around their sun, then a diagram of the human body and major organs.

It was a copy of the information placed inside the probe, on a sheet of pure gold, designed to convey information about its creators to anyone who might stumble upon it. Science called it offering the gesture of friendship to any sentient life forms in space.

The Marines called that a huge error in judgment.

They'd searched the area and found no other signs of life or markings on any other rocks. Either whoever had found the probe grew bored and left it, or they'd been the ones to gut the machine and carried their prize back to wherever they called home.

"I'd suggest we settle in under the lights to study this matter further," Colonel Patterson said after they'd determined they had documented everything they could find.

"Yes, of course," Doctor Snyder gathered up his notes and walked back to the small camp, with the Colonel right behind him.

"Well, this changes things a bit," Lydia remarked as she fell into step beside Ethan. "I wonder if they're humanoid."

"Humanoid?" Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Why not go ahead and speculate that they're human? For all we've figured out here, they could be the ancestors of our big cows."

"Ancestors?"

Ethan nodded back over his shoulder. "That probe crashed here seven hundred and sixty years ago, give or take, and those etchings were covered in nearly as much dirt and dust. Who ever found it certainly isn't around here any more."

"I doubt they've evolved into cows in that short a time," Lydia replied with a laugh. "Thought they could easily have died out themselves, or moved on. Perhaps they're nomads? Perhaps they've all died out as a species, like we would have done back on Earth?"

Ethan rubbed his eyes. "This would be a hell of a lot easier to take if we still had a defendable position."

"You mean the ship?"

He nodded. "Someplace to retreat to, just in case we're suddenly discovered and not welcome here."

"But we can't just -- Ethan, you're not suggesting we'd fight these people?" Lydia stopped just inside the lights of their camp, keeping her voice down. "This is their world, whoever they are."

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "But it's our world too, now, like it or not. If the current residents decide we're not welcome, and we need to be eliminated, we'll have no choice."

She blinked, then furrowed her eyebrows.

Ethan could see it in her expression. He'd seen it before, many times. When logic and reason smacked headlong into reality and didn't like how it looked or felt. They'd want the Marines to keep them safe, and spare no ammo doing it, because the alternative wasn't something anyone could seriously contemplate. But their higher minded ideals made it difficult to accept the ugly truths. That safety, security, and continued existence quite often meant bloodshed, violence and the possibility of defeat.

Kathryn had always been an exception. She had higher ideals. The lofty goals of science, peace and understanding, but she knew you often had to break some eggs in order to keep the chickens safe. Maybe it was easier for her, having a brother in there doing the fighting.

In Lydia's eyes, Ethan could see the shift. At that moment, he was no longer the brother to her valued colleague, or a friend from Earth she could confide in when the nights were too long and unfamiliar.

Right now, he was just another Marine.

"I think Doctor Snyder would like to speak with you," Ethan offered.

"Oh, yes, I should . . . Yes." Lydia smiled quickly, then turned and joined her coworkers as they huddled around scans of their new discovery.

Ethan unclipped his rifle and walked to where Colonel Patterson was sitting.

"Sucks, I know," he said as he offered Ethan a cup of coffee. "When they suddenly realize life isn't all flowers and sunshine, and the people they've been laughing with are capable of killing."

Ethan sat down, accepting the cup, and shrugged. "It happens."

"Yeah, well if you ask me, that's part of the whole big picture that put us here in the first place."

Ethan glanced at the colonel as he sipped the hot beverage.

"If more of them took a minute to think, to really think, about how the world worked, instead of holing up in their laboratories studying problems and making their accusations and declarations, maybe Earth would still be useable." He grunted and finished his own coffee in one swallow before continuing. "Hell, they're the ones who demanded our governments unite. Didn't give one thought to how the terrorists would take to that, did they? Then, while our type are fighting, killing and dying to protect their little ideals, we get nothing but --" He took a breath, then shook himself. "Never mind. That's all ancient history, anyway."

"Your grandfathers were in the wars, weren't they?"

Colonel Patterson nodded. "And their fathers before them, and their fathers. My line has been serving the Marine Corps for over seven hundred generations."

Ethan contemplated his coffee. "Anthropologists," he said to the dark liquid. "My family. For, I think, six generations, with a few exceptions here and there."

Patterson sniffed. "Your uncle was a cloud seeder, wasn't he?"

"He was, yes." Ethan finished his coffee. "He never married. Said they wouldn't give a man like him a permit for offspring, so why bother?"

"Indeed," the colonel nodded. "They weren't handing out too many of those to cloud seeders or any other useful occupation. Though I imagine your sister would have been awarded one, being a scientist and all that."

Ethan just nodded.

"Well, that's all the past anyway, isn't it? Colonizing means everyone's expected to contribute as much and as often as they can manage." He glanced around, then began taking off his battle vest and gear for the night. "Had Doctor Keller sedate Mortar, just in case that outburst of his is related to the stress he was talking about."

"Good idea." Ethan stood, adjusting his vest. He longed to just strip everything off and get in a good, long shower, but God knew when that would ever happen. "I'll get the men scheduled on patrols for the night."

Colonel Patterson nodded. "You're a born Marine, Griff. And a valuable one."

"What's that, sir?"

Patterson cleared his throat. "Your family might have all been white coats, but you're a damn fine Marine." He glanced up, meeting Ethan's gaze. "You should know that."

Ethan blinked, then gave a quick nod. "Thank you, sir."

What followed was one of the most unproductive nights of his life.

Five of the brightest scientific minds sat around a heating unit trading theories of evolution, lost exploration teams, bizarrely shaped aliens with opposable thumbs, and the plausibility that any semi-intelligent creature could have managed to open up that probe and figure out words and phrases from a recording and printed gold plaque.

"I thought that's how you people designed those things?" Colonel Patterson was on the edge of his patience. "So that any reasonable thinking life form could figure it out?"

"That's the idea, Colonel," Doctor Snyder quipped. "However, if we take into account the definition of alien, that they would not, in fact, have any frame of reference relative to our own--"

"Then why did they build these things?" He retorted.

Ethan took a breath, but declined to interrupt. He'd been listening to them go back and forth for hours, and tried to run interference at first, but it proved so futile a venture he'd have been a fool to keep trying.

So he listened.

Listened to them argue, conjecture, speculate and generally make fools of themselves trying to come to a conclusion with precious few facts at their disposal.

After three hours of arguing a circle of logic that had so many holes it could have filtered noodles, Ethan had enough.

"I'll go spell Flash on patrol, he could use some extra sleep."

Colonel Patterson gave him the look of a trapped animal, and was about to say something when Lydia spoke.

"No, I think the colonel has a point here."

He turned to her, eyebrows raised, and Ethan made his escape.

After relieving Flash and checking in with Wingman, he started a wide patrol of the area. They had less cover for their camp this time, with the boulder the vehicles were backed up against much shorter and smaller than the one from the night before. There were outcroppings of stone mixed in and around the wreckage of Starlight A-3, providing plenty of spaces for creatures to hide, or hunt.

Ethan kept Wingman on a tight patrol, keeping the immediate vicinity around the camp secured, while he fanned out, moving among the rocks and tall grasses. Now and then a small rodent would amble by, plucking flowers from the grass and munching them like spaghetti. In the distance, he saw a herd of the strange cows, just inside his sensor's range. He'd switched his microphone over to a single channel, so only he and Wingman could hear each other as they kept watch.

He'd had quite enough of the inane chatter at camp, enough of the speculation, arguments and underlying sense of panic and fear. They were here. This was it. If something else lived here and called it home, there was no sense in working themselves into a lather trying to guess who or what it might be. Just step out there, find it, and see what happens.

Or hide in a cave and live in fear of discovery.

In his mind, there was only one course to take, and he didn't understand the need to sit around borrowing trouble when it usually had no problems at all finding you.

"It's quiet out here, how about you, Wingman?"

"All's quiet here, Ghost. All but those white coats and the colonel chattering up a storm, that is."

Ethan let out a snort. "I'm going around this cluster, check back in thirty."

"Roger that."

He moved the mic away from his mouth and raised both lenses up and out of the way, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. It was getting easier to do, or else he was just getting used to it. With a clear sky and blanket of stars, he could see well enough to keep from tripping, and the rifle's scope provided all the night vision and magnification he needed.

As he stepped around the stack of old, crumbling stones, he heard rustling in the tall grass to his left. He turned, rifle up, expecting to see another rodent pulling a flower down and out of sight.

What he saw was definitely not a rodent.

Ethan froze out of instinct, rifle still up, moving only his eyes as he took in the many figures suddenly appearing up from the grass and around from behind stones and rocks.

They weren't humanoid, simply human. His height, average but athletically built, they all wore pants, with shirts wrapped around their bodies that were held in place by straps holding sharp, metal arrows. Each of them was holding a weapon of varying design, something between a rifle and crossbow, with deadly spikes at the tip.

They were staring at him, weapons raised, but making no further advance.

Ethan didn't know why he stood there so silently. Even with his microphone pushed aside, he could have simply spoken and Wingman would have heard him.

One word, one quick alarm, and the Marines would be here in under three minutes.

But he said nothing. With one free hand, he very slowly pulled the microphone and lenses completely off, clipping them onto his belt slowly, so as not to startle anyone.

The others were looking at him, clearly curious, but with weapons still trained and ready should this stranger make a movement or gesture they didn't agree with.

Ethan counted eight men and women, all around him now, standing several feet away. He swallowed, then very slowly began lowering his rifle, moving his eye away from the scope and taking one hand off the weapon. That hand he held up, palm open, as he slowly began to turn his head, taking them all in.

One male turned to another and said something he couldn't understand, then their own weapons began to lower, but only a few inches.

Carefully, Ethan reached up and unclipped his rifle, lowering it further. He pointed the muzzle toward the ground and held it with just one hand now, the other still held up in what was assumed to be a universal gesture of peace.

He realized he could just as easily be insulting someone's mother.

"I should probably say something profound," Ethan said, keeping his voice very calm. "I don't suppose you'd care if I came in peace?" He lowered his raised hand and rested it against the butt of his rifle, hoping no one noticed he had a finger on the trigger.

The strangers looked at each other, whispering and pointing with growing excitement.

Ethan looked at one female and tried to see her better in the dark. She was staring at him, ignoring the chatter among her peers, watching his mouth as he spoke. Ethan blinked and turned slightly toward her, trying to determine if her eyes truly were black, or if it was just an illusion.

Finally the chatter among the others came to an abrupt halt. They all turned to face the female as if waiting for instructions.

"Again."

Ethan blinked. She'd spoken, not only directly to him, but in English. "I'm sorry? You want me to say that again?"

This time she turned to a man next to her and said some words Ethan couldn't understand. The man nodded excitedly, gesturing now and again while all the others listened, practically ignoring Ethan as he stood there.

After a moment, she nodded, cleared her throat, and lowered her weapon.

"Greetings, from Earth," she said in a bright, cheerful voice. "You will come, now."

Ethan stood there, dumbfounded for a moment.

She waved at him, and the others raised their weapons once again.

"Come, now."

He moved his other hand from the rifle and held it up again, then stepped toward her.

"Yes, come." She turned and the man beside her stepped away, making room for Ethan as he approached.

No one tried to take his rifle, or even touch him. The woman simply turned and Ethan fell in step beside her, the others fanning out behind them both as they walked.

It was surreal, and something Kathryn would have given anything to experience. Ethan realized this as he followed the strangers. Realized how mind-numbingly stupid it was that he'd not only just made first contact, but failed to mention it to Wingman, or Colonel Patterson, or anyone else for that matter.

He was simply walking along, accompanied by an alien woman who seemed to know his language, being followed by a group of armed individuals.

As they rounded a small hill, Ethan saw a camp spread out among the tall grass. He quickly counted twenty more armed men and women, sitting in a group around a blazing fire contained by heavy rocks.

The grass around the area had been tramped down, but several of the little rodents were happily scurrying around, occasionally being petted or hand fed flowers. There were weapons stacked against a rock, and more of the straps holding sharp metal arrows, as well as odd-looking gear shaped like seats with ropes and lines lying about.

Ethan was brought to the group with excited explanations and conversations he couldn't begin to decipher. Everyone in the camp stood to look at him one at a time, and he realized their eyes truly were jet black, with no pupil to speak of.

Unless it was all pupil. That would make sense, in a world where the only light came from stars and camp fires.

Each person, men and women alike, carried a weapon. Ethan noted many of the crossbow styled rifles, as well as various knives, swords, and smaller, pistol-sized units loaded with arrows and small darts. The armaments seemed to be a fact of life, even part of their individual outfits, but he never got the impression they weren't completely skilled in their use.

No one made a move to take his rifle, or even his sidearm. Three men were holding their crossbows at the ready, keeping an eye on the new stranger, but there was no real sense that they were nervous or fearful of his actions.

You're outnumbered, idiot, they wouldn't be any more afraid of you than they would be one of these rabbits.

After everyone there seemed to have a good look at him, they all went back to their fire, and the woman who had spoken earlier touched his arm and gestured for him to follow her.

She led him and the three armed men aside, to a smaller fire where three older men sat, looking somber and nodding at each other.

"Sit," she said, pointing to the ground. "I am sorry, we brought no chairs."

Ethan sat on the ground, resting his rifle in his lap, and looked at her as she joined him. "You speak my language."

"Yes," she smiled around at the older men. "We speak Starlight."

"It is a very old tongue," one of the older men said with a slow nod toward Ethan. "But one member of every family learns."

"From the time of dying," another man said.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "The time of dying?"

"What is your name?" the woman asked, touching Ethan's arm. "I am called Eferia. Eferia of Lankshin." She pointed to the three older men in turn. "Marik of Lind, Tolen of Grind and Vaun of Emm."

And I am Ethan of Idiot, he thought.

"Ethan," he said. "Ethan Griff."

"Greetings from Earth, Ethan Griff," Tolen said.

"Greetings from Earth," the other two echoed.

"We saw you arrive, and began the journey to meet you." Tolen was speaking now, and all eyes turned to him.

"Our ship?" Ethan asked. "You saw it come through the sky?"

Tolen nodded and the others followed suit.

"Then you know there are more with me," he said, glancing at them each in turn.

"Two groups," Eferia said. "We have watched you since you left the forest and came into the valley. "But it is easier to meet one person, is it not?"

"Yes," Ethan agreed. "But they'll notice I'm not with them, and could get the wrong impression."

Tolen frowned, then looked up. "You can speak with them, yes?"

"Yes, I can." Ethan pointed to the com unit on his belt, then carefully pulled it out. "My -- boss -- will want to meet with you, before you meet all of the others."

"He is your leader, then?"

Ethan nodded. "Yes, he's our leader."

Tolen turned to Marik, who whispered something in his ear. He nodded and looked at Ethan. "We will meet your leader, and then all of the others. They will come to our village, share our food and rest themselves."

"And your village is . . .?" Ethan looked from Tolen to Eferia, eyebrow raised. "Not far from here?"

"We have a village near," Eferia replied with a smile. "One of many, but with much room for visitors."

"We shall meet your leader now," Tolen declared as he stood. "You will tell him we come."

Without another word, he and the other men marched off, into the darkness, while the entire group followed.

Oh shit. Ethan keyed the com unit. "Reaper, this is Ghost."

"Ghost, where in the hell are you! Wingman lost contact fifteen minutes ago!"

"I've met a few new friends, and they're heading your direction," Ethan hurriedly explained as he scrambled to his feet. "Hold fire. I repeat, hold fire. They're friendly, so far, and they speak English."

There was no reply, so he shoved the unit back into place inside his ear and started back the way he'd come, barely mindful of the three armed men and Eferia following right behind him.

For older men, Tolen and the others made good time. Ethan couldn't find them in the dark, and had to resort to following their footprints in the tall grass, since his escort didn't seem inclined to lead the way.

"Reaper, they're armed but haven't made any aggressive movements," Ethan explained as he hurried back toward camp.

"Armed? Ghost, is this first contact?" the colonel asked, his tone a mixture of confusion and anger. "Are you reporting first contact?"

"Yes, sir, that would be affirmative," Ethan replied. "I repeat, they are armed, but non-aggressive at this time."

"Reaper, I see someone!" Wingman shouted over the com.

"Stand down, Wingman," the colonel replied quickly. "Flash, lower your weapon! Punch, Lancer, take up position behind those rocks!"

Ethan fell into a jog and his escort fell in step easily behind him. He could hear the colonel over the com as he hurried back to camp, then Lydia's voice joined in as she turned her microphone on.

"Oh my God, they're human," she said.

"Greetings from Earth."

It was Tolen's voice, loud enough and close enough to be heard over someone's mic.

Ethan rounded the probe's debris and found Tolen and the others facing a stunned group standing just outside the lights of their camp. The crowd of armed strangers parted amicably to let him through, and his armed escort and Eferia stopped among them.

Tolen turned to smile at Ethan, who came to a halt next to the older man.

He looked at the colonel, enduring a well deserved glare, before gesturing toward Tolen. "Colonel Patterson, this is Tolen of Grind," he said, surprised to have remembered the man's name. "Tolen, this is John Patterson, our leader."

"Greetings from Earth, John Patterson," Tolen said with a smile.

"Um, hello," the colonel replied. He looked at Ethan and didn't seem to know what to say next.

"Hello," Lydia pushed through the guarding hulks of Stake and Flash and held out a hand toward Tolen. "I am Lydia Warren."

"Greetings from Earth, Lydia Warren," Tolen replied with a smile. He reached out and touched her hand, lightly running his fingers over her palm. "We will take you to our village, to rest and explain."

"Your village?"

"Yes, John, our village is not far from here," Tolen replied. "We have room for all. You, and the others." He pointed out across the grasslands, in the direction of Captain Marshall's refugees. "They will rest, and explain."

"Explain?" Patterson looked from Tolen to Ethan. "You mean, you'd like to know why we're here?"

"It was an accident," Lydia chimed in apologetically.

She would have continued, if Ethan hadn't grabbed her arm.

"We would be happy to explain," Patterson continued. "And grateful for the safety of your village. I'll tell my people, shall I?"

Tolen nodded and crossed his arms. "We will wait here."

"Okay then." Colonel Patterson turned to Ethan, but keyed his com unit. "Sentinel, are you relaying this?"

"Yes, sir. Captain Marshall is spreading the word, sir. He relays back that they are on the move. Should reach us in four hours."

Colonel Patterson nodded, glanced at Ethan, then turned back to Tolen. "Our people are on their way. Is it far to your village?"

"Not far," Tolen replied. "It is only one village, but there is room." He gestured to the men and women behind him and they all began to take up residence in the grass, sitting down, spreading out, and generally getting comfortable for the long wait.