Allies, p.1
Allies, page 1
ALLIES
THE PLANET HOME TRILOGY
BOOK 2
C.A. GLEASON
Text copyright © 2021 C.A. Gleason
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Darko Tomic
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
1. Windmother
2. Royah
3. Royah
4. Melvin
5. Royah
6. Royah
7. Yohiro
8. Melvin
9. Melvin
10. Royah
11. Royah
12. Onnin
13. Royah
14. Melvin
15. Melvin
16. Royah
17. Melvin
18. Melvin
19. Melvin
20. Royah
21. Royah
22. Yohiro
23. Royah
24. Royah
25. Yohiro
26. Yohiro
27. Onnin
28. Onnin
29. Onnin
30. Onnin
20 Years Ago
31. Onnin
32. Onnin
1. Windmother
The footprints were substantial, deeper than all the others. She was certain he wasn’t flabby. His tracks told her so. They were deliberately paced, controlled with strength, skilled with balance, and sturdy with determination. He was likely twice as heavy as any other man on Home and could only have hidden his path by covering each footstep.
But who would or could? And for how long might they keep up the laborious task? Taking the time to cover tracks would put the person in more danger. Intensify it.
His tracks were practically illuminated to her. He seemed to be someone whose path was not meandering but precise. It wasn’t him she was after, it was those who were following him—for what reason she did not know—but she would likely have to track the big man’s footprints to find them.
The traitors’ footprints were fresh from his within days. Either the big man didn’t deviate from his path because he didn’t know he was being followed, or he was arrogant. Or there had been a confrontation already.
They probably ran across his path by accident, saw something he was carrying of interest, and began trailing him. She would eventually find out the reason. She could track anyone given enough time. But the ways she would find them were not always so obvious. At first.
She scanned for footprints when possible as they were the obvious sign. But they’d already walked too far and long for her to see them clearly. The wind swept them away—except for the big man’s—so she wasn’t positive about their specific direction.
One reliable constant was that people often didn’t know they were being tracked, so they traveled in a straight line. Regardless of slowdowns, once she caught the whiff of a path she locked onto it. She allowed her eyes to blanket the terrain, absorbing familiar and consistent depressions, ones made by feet at a brisk pace.
Hurried feet were often the easiest to follow. They dragged and fussed the dirt. When tracking a fresh trail, there were often scents of the familiar, like the subtle different colors in clouds. The obvious was the scent of a fire, either active, or one gone out. It seemed they were stopping quite consistently, which meant they were in no hurry and didn’t know she was tracking them.
Stupid of them not to know.
Did he really believe he could get away with it?
Even if they were unaware, time was not on her side. If she were unable to reach them within a few more days, or remain close enough to stay on their path, they might deviate from the big man, slowing her too. Her reason for tracking them in the first place might not come to fruition. Never mind how her fellow outliers would react if she failed.
How it would be perceived as weakness. Failing was something she never did. If the expedition turned up nothing, they will turn on her. She will be cast down or out and another will rise up to take her place. She could be dead.
Currently, she still held power over those who waited for her next move and because thriving was what mattered—to her, for her, and for those she cared about—she would do her best.
When one of them suddenly began speaking behind her, an accidental attempt at dismantling their temporary invisibility, she craned her neck and gave him a look she’d given others. He knew it to mean she would kill him in his sleep. The power of control over those who followed her was as strong as it ever was. Even with it always on the precipice of collapsing.
What she decided, went. If she decided to cut a throat, it would be allowed. Those who followed her, would protect her while she held the knife. Although she didn’t want to kill the man who inadvertently jeopardized their progression, she would if he couldn’t control himself, even though there were feelings for him and it was mutual.
They’d been close. But she’d been close to many men and felt for them all. She wouldn’t allow bonds to prevent her from doing what needed to be done. Currently, she was allowing her next decision to happen according to her skills. She snapped her head back and dramatically shook it so they understood she needed to begin the whole process over again.
There were quiet groans behind her, and surely looks of annoyance at the man responsible, and also looks from the others expressing the groaners should muzzle themselves. Even though she didn’t care as much about her group as she did about the group they were after, specifically for the one she was closest to and cared for the most, she still must consider caring for them.
Because if it came down to a skirmish, and there well might be, they would fight for her. Being who she was, who they believed her to be, they followed. All of it was temporary and as delicate as the hair she burned before leaving to show them she was strengthening her power. She wouldn’t go out of her way to cause her protectors harm, but she’d allow them to die.
The next generation was all who mattered.
The first being footprints, she scanned the distance for the next best way to spot a path; the absence of protein plants. Within the quadrants, was where protein plants grew plentiful; some places it was more, depending on the health of the ground and the rainfall, but where they were pulled more, would grow within weeks.
Until then a trail of empty patches was practically a road leading to those who pulled the food. Where she viewed now had been pulled recently. Importantly, and an obvious clue, before they could grow back. It wasn’t the big man who’d done it. His pace was too quick. It was his careless pursuers, those who she was after, who she might have to have killed or do the killing herself.
The layers of their direction splayed out and she decided it was enough to get moving again. When she rose up, she sensed the morale behind her lift in them. Because it meant a new destination. Along with her momentum, theirs returned as a gust as quick as the wind pointing their direction.
Stillness was complacency, walking was a feat creating purpose, leading to achievement. Being useful was all those who followed her desired, and she took pleasure in providing that for them. Once she accomplished what she set out to do and got what she needed from those she was after, they could all return home.
Nothing would have changed except for those of the group she was tracking, who needed to die. Someone would have to be punished. Hopefully not all of them.
The big man made her nervous but she didn’t know him personally and he wasn’t related to her intent. He was likely oblivious, so he probably wouldn’t be a threat. Maybe he would listen to reason if a confrontation loomed. She didn’t know if the rumors about him were true. If the rumors were facts, it would change how she would handle things altogether.
But it depended on the depth of his involvement. Inhaling deeply, she concentrated on the consistent foot path depressions, scents, and absence of protein plants. People she needed to track—for various reasons—left at least one of those trails, two if she was lucky. Combined, the group she tracked left all three.
It was meant to be.
She was meant to find them.
And confront them.
2. Royah
Along the way they’d found an extra backpack. Clean enough—after washing it out in a lake—to put a baby inside. Royah wore it on her front to carry Emma. Holes were cut so Emma’s legs could dangle.
Onnin had put his gun away once he realized, as she had, that the stranger didn’t seem to be a threat. Quite the opposite really. She still wanted to keep the conversation going. To make sure.
“What was wrong with it?”
“Damaged battery. Bike was practically shot the moment I put a leg over the seat. Just junk. Even though those things can run for hundreds of years. Maybe longer. I shouldn’t have bargained with him.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter. Either of you happen to have a spare battery in those backpacks?”
Royah shook her head. She looked to Onnin who made no motion. “Who were you bargaining with?” she asked again. “We haven’t seen anyone else.”
“Good. Hopefully he fell down a hole or something. The guy I traded with.”
“What did you trade for it?”
“Doesn’t matter. I was stupid.”
“Well it must have run for a little while?”
“It did. Long enough to quit on me after the swindler disappeared fro
“It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe. But I got taken advantage of. Story of my life.”
At first she was hopeful that Buddy could fix the scoutbike. But in order to do so, he’d explained, he practically needed a new one altogether for a functional solar battery. But if someone did, they might as well keep the one running and abandon the old one.
A lot of times, it came down to which bike was preferred based on the frame because scoutbikes practically ran as long as you wanted to ride them. Unless they exploded, which they sometimes did. She learned that from her mom.
Royah felt she had gone east enough to continue the journey on a bike, but now there were more people with her. They couldn’t all fit onto one. Especially considering how big Onnin was. He was surely as heavy as he looked. She would have to wait for a better opportunity.
“So what are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. You’re quite the trio. Don’t see groups like yours every day.”
Very true. “I asked you first.”
“I’m in between homes. Staying away from threats. Travelling. Seeing the sights.”
Royah laughed, but Onnin rolled his eyes. Again. She noticed Onnin rolled his eyes at least half a dozen times already, since Buddy first started following them a few miles back.
Buddy seemed disappointed he was forced to leave his newly acquired scoutbike behind but also seemed to appreciate their company. Random outliers walking around the flat was nothing new.
More accurately, Buddy chose to leave the bike behind to walk in the direction they were heading. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Buddy did a better job of masking his attraction to her than other men. But it wasn’t the scary kind of attraction.
So she and Onnin were presently—and silently—deciding how far Buddy would accompany them.
Though Onnin wasn’t friendly and didn’t talk much, hardly at all, he was perfect to have around because he was so suspicious of everyone. His caution was perfect for the type of quest.
She didn’t really want to admit it but she was friendlier with Onnin than she wanted to be in the beginning, was forcing it more than she wanted to, even though it was authentic, and not because he’d shot at her.
Shot in my direction, she remembered.
Royah understood why he had done it, as she held little Emma. Royah’s playfulness came from a genuine place but she was speeding up what might have taken longer for her to do naturally, say if she and Onnin lived in the same town and grown up together or something.
She wasn’t sure if he felt the same way but wouldn’t be surprised. Men and women who liked each other were naturally drawn together, and Onnin seemed to be keen on everything going on around them. His instincts were strong, so no doubt he must sense how she felt about him.
It was the same with Buddy; her forcing a little bit more of what was natural, offering a more intense version of herself. It was selfish but she was allowing Buddy to follow along, because he could be used as a diversion.
Though unspoken, it was probably why Onnin hadn’t objected. They would allow Buddy to endanger himself for them. Even though the man could possibly sacrifice himself unwittingly and propel their quest onward, it didn’t stop Onnin from being annoyed with him.
When Royah first asked Buddy if he wanted to go along, Onnin made a comment under his breath about someone else following them, which was humorous because there was no one else. Buddy was the first.
Royah wanted to tell Onnin of course they needed someone else, especially someone who claimed to be able to handle a gun, which Buddy already mentioned he was able to do a couple of times.
As she thought about it, confidence with guns was a helpful skill to have, even if only partially true. Onnin’s jealousy piqued her curiosity about what she already sensed; Onnin liked her. She couldn’t know for sure. Just a feeling.
Maybe it was a small feeling somewhere inside him still growing, and he might not even be able to acknowledge it or know how to talk about it, but there was definitely something between them.
In turn, that validated how Royah felt about him. For her, it felt nice to be around Onnin, and it didn’t scare her to be close to him. Instead, doing so made her feel warm and buzzy.
But it was unspoken and complicated and it might never be brought up. He clearly wasn’t the type of man who discussed his feelings. And also, was she really in a state to reciprocate feelings for a man enough to be in a relationship?
Deep down she felt that most men were untrustworthy anyway. Except for her dad, when he was alive of course, and a few others in town, boys she liked when she was younger, and all of them gave her some hope.
Even if Buddy lied, all they really needed was someone who could aim in a threatening manner if there was trouble.
Sometimes a show of force was all that was necessary to survive a shootout. It depended on how much an enemy wanted to live. Everything changed if they were willing to die.
Buddy snapped his fingers. “Can he hear?”
“Better than both of us combined. But it takes him a while to warm up to strangers.” She glanced at him, but Onnin didn’t acknowledge what she said.
Buddy stared up at him. Then he looked at Royah. “You two,” glancing at Emma, “three, been together long?”
“Oh we’re not together.” She noticed Onnin tense. “I meant, we’re together, but not—”
“I know what you meant.”
Actually, no, you don’t.
“You don’t mind me asking questions, do you? If you do, I don’t mind minding my own business. Honest.”
Royah gave a grin, hiding how she typically felt about strange men. She didn’t want what happened in her past to make her treat all of them the same, as deep down she feared they were all dangerous.
Which was true, they were, all men were dangerous. Some were predators. But most used their strength to protect.
“Oh, I don’t mind. Ask away.”
“How old is your baby?”
She considered lying, but what was the point? “She isn’t mine, so I don’t know.”
“She isn’t?”
She shook her head.
“Is she his?”
Again she shook her head.
“Then why do you have her?”
Onnin suddenly glared at him and Royah thought maybe he was going to start answering Buddy’s questions with his big fists. She would be wise to do the talking. “We found her.”
“Found?”
“She was abandoned.”
“Abandoned? Seriously?” Buddy looked at Emma. “Poor thing. What’s her name?”
“Emma.”
“Nice name for a girl. But if you found her, and she isn’t yours, how do you know her name?”
Royah was pretty sure she heard Onnin growl. “We named her obviously. Not sure what her real name is. Keep up, Buddy.”
He laughed. “Of course.” Buddy nodded dumbly. “You going to raise her as your own then?”
“We’re taking her to the nearest town. It’s the plan anyway.” Royah glanced down at Emma.
I’d keep you, but you aren’t mine.
“We’re hoping to find someone who knows her. Somehow. If we don’t, and we don’t meet proper parents for her, or a safe place for her either...maybe...”
Onnin glanced at Royah but she avoided his gaze. She didn’t know what she’d meant exactly. All she knew was that she liked how things were going at the moment. Not having Emma around likely meant not having Onnin around either, and as of right now, she didn’t want him to leave.
She’d had feelings for men before, but nothing serious ever blossomed. Because she didn’t allow it. It could be the same as before but now she wanted Onnin around, and also to protect her. It might just be a crush. Time would tell.
But she really enjoyed mothering Emma. The bond happened fast, quicker than she expected or knew was even possible, when before she thought it wouldn’t happen at all.
She also suspected it wouldn’t be a big deal to hand her over to another woman or someone who knew what to do with a strange baby. Whenever that might take place. As of right now, the thought of doing so felt uncomfortable.
As if Emma were actually hers, which was strange.
Buddy was walking right next to Royah now. “She doesn’t cry much?”
“No. She’s a good girl. I’ve kept her fed.”
