All the people relaxed as Alec reached forward and braced his forearm against the Dream Singer's, who reciprocated in kind. It was a symbol of equality and unity that the soldiers from that long-ago war had used. The Dream Singer smiled. "You remember us, lost soldiers?"

  "I remember one who looked like you."

  "If you remember one, you remember us all." Tusong chimed in with a humility that disarmed Alec and the onlookers. The spirit of peace that lived within these people was strong. The stories were remembered, and Alec felt a sense of apprehension. In his experience, times of feeling safe and familiar with those around him faded into immediate catastrophe or were lost to the slow, brutal hand of time.

  When Alec turned from greeting the wise one, Tusong was there waiting with his revolver in hand. He did not hesitate, but he did keep Alec's eyes as he passed him the weapon reverently. Alec took it and then regarded his surroundings. The few people who had stood guard were dressed in drab, worn clothes. They were patched with barks and natural fibres foraged from the desert oasis. Their faces were gaunt, used to controlled rations, but the determination on their faces was undeniable. He placed the revolver on the bed of the hover-cart and moved away from it.

  Tusong whistled an odd melody that sounded like a small bird. It was repeated twice from a collection of rocks in the far back of the cave. A larger group of children, protected by a mix of older ages, walked forward. There were at least two generations under this cave, by the look of the children's ages. Tusong called out in a loud and welcoming voice, speaking in the native tongue. "Equals, come bear witness to an event of the stars. Behold a man older than remembered generations. He has come at the will of the stars to join us. Alec, a Chosen of our tribe."

  The last term was familiar to Alec; once considered an honour, it would now be a death threat. To be a Chosen amongst the Teretha was to stand equal to equal. Fully accepted amongst them. Alec scanned every face, which held a reverent hope that gave Alec a queasy feeling. He'd seen the same look on those begging of a god to cease their suffering. He was no messiah amongst these people. He had come here to kill them if he was bluntly honest with himself. Had the memory of the child been kept at bay, Alec would have to admit he still may be on that course.

  Despite his misgivings, he found himself almost getting caught up in Tusong's charisma. The people gathered and settled, staring toward Alec in anticipation. The leader of the rebellion also looked to Alec. "What say you, Alec, as our equal, it is your choice. Are you with us?" This last was delivered in the common tongue again.

  "I am," Alec replied plainly and honestly. Those in attendance gasped, and the eyes of the Dream Singer were alight with joyous fire.

  The old man jumped in, also speaking the common tongue, almost too eagerly, "The words have been spoken, the bond has been made. What say the people?"

  In unison, the crowd responded in Tethera, "We are here with you."

  Alec realized all too late that what had just transpired was a ceremony. He had unwittingly said lines attributed to an ancient prophecy or story passed down with this group of Tethera. Alec often spoke plainly, and the words were more habit than chosen. He felt that twisting in his stomach and the weight return to his shoulders. Tusong embraced him in the way the Dream Singer had, and that seemed to signal the end of the ceremony. The crowd cheered and embraced each other, each chattering as if they had seen a cosmic angel and had proved the existence of a loving creator.

  Alec and Tusong's eyes met in the fervour of the ceremony around them. He could see in the Tethera warrior's eyes that he also knew what came next. Ceremony and prophecy served one purpose to those who had seen real tragedy: to rally the masses to honourable deaths. They may be the wave that rushes forth only to be dashed against the beach again and again. Until the rocks became sand. Alec had lived long enough to know that empires rise and fall, and it was possible that this could be the start of that wave. Alec had lived long enough to know that those in this room were very unlikely to reap any benefits from the change they may create.

  The group around began to sing in wonderful harmonies as some gathered instruments, and the children began to dance. This part of the ceremony was for those who had suffered in this cave searching for a ray of hope. Tusong began to walk forward, gesturing to Alec to follow him. Alec retrieved his revolver and tucked it away, then followed the tall Tethera leader. Alec felt an odd sensation and realized slowly that he was inspired by this man. As the sounds of the campfire retreated behind them, Tusong spoke candidly.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "It must be odd, this". Tusong looked at Alec with concern. "To show up, unaware you have been spoken of for centuries. We all thought him mad." He pointed back to the Dream Singer. Alec could see by his eyes that it was a joke. "You should know our plight. After I am done, if you wish to leave as an equal, you can. I would not hold you to promises made by people you did not know."

  "I have to admit the world does seem slightly more sideways than usual. Who knows? Maybe that spin set it straight. The girl."

  Tusong's eyes jumped to look at Alec. "You've seen T'sala?"

  "I have. Your sister yet lives."

  "I don't know what you think you may know, but I can tell you if you heard it from Sinclair," the leaving of the baron title was intentional. "It is surely a lie. Or at the very least a manipulation of the truth."

  "I've met him, and I don't trust him."

  "Would you allow me to tell you the story from our eyes?" He gestured towards the people still dancing. "You can judge us as you judge him to find which rings true to you." Alec nodded in agreement, and the noble warrior took a voice similar to that of the Dream Singer. There was an emphasis on the sing-song nature of the Teretha tongue as Tusong began to sing Alec his story.

  "We were a strong people, but a peaceful one. We walked these mountains, and in those days, there were trees as far as the eye could see. The beasts and the winds shared the world with us. We heard the groaning in the ground below us on some days, like an angry god restless in sleep. We did not wake them, though, but instead walked the balance of respect for the earth they slept in. That was until the circle appeared, like a second moon in the sky. The people who stepped out of it were not of the peace bond. They were angry like the god-earth, and they sought to wake them."

  Alec had heard a familiar tale on many Teretha and other planets the baronhood now had within its many systems. They were like locusts in their search for oil, consuming as they went. A tale all too tragically common.

  "My father's line was chief amongst equals in those times. The one chosen to speak for our peoples. We tried to reason with them, but they had no interest. They attacked us with weapons, corralled us like animals and placed us below them to labour for their purposes. We were no longer equals among many but became many unequal people. It is in our blood to oppose this."

  The nobility and strength of the Teretha was as well known as their propensity for peace. Alec was enthralled by the tones and tale of Tusong, but what held his attention most was the pain he could see in his eyes.

  The warrior continued, "We struggled for generations until my father and the man Sinclair shared time and space. During that time, the children stayed home, and the older Teretha worked the mines. Many lives were lost to explosions and accidents during that time." A well of emotion touched Tusongs eyes.

  This both confused and enthralled Alec. To see a warrior, proud, strong and battle-ready. Someone, Alec, would stand shoulder to shoulder with him, embrace his emotions so strongly? It seemed impossible to Alec. He would crumble under that weight.

  Tusong built momentum in his rhythmic storytelling. "Sinclair had a habit of spending time watching the Teretha women with an odd fascination in his eye. He caught sight of Tsala as she laundered the manor's linens with the other women. He was obsessed, and when he found out she was the daughter of the chief, he decided he must have her."

  There was a crack in Tusong's voice in this last, and he almost faltered. He embraced the solitary tear running down his cheek. To Alec, it looked like a warrior's paint, a sign of power and vengeance, not weakness. "They took my twin sister when we had barely reached 19 summers. I watched as the guards ripped her away from us and took her down the street. I saw her once since then. She is trapped in a purple prison in eternal torment."

  Alec could see the story was coming to a close, and this series of events made much more sense than the bullshit the Baron had tried to sell.

  "I told my father to stand tall! Be the mighty and take her back. He would not; he was wiser than I back then and knew the price of pride. I still stood, however. Sinclair had my father killed, and I was exiled by my people. They took the children next; the Aamaranth mines had grown weaker, and the tunnels had to reach farther into the earth. The small forms and sure hands of the children ensured the Aamaranth flowed. A few managed to leave and found me in exile. That is who you see here. Tell me, Alec, do my words ring true?"

  Alec took a breath to wave away the sensations the story song had woven. He truly felt the warrior's plight before him. "Tell me then, what do you intend to do?"

  Tusong relaxed completely, a survivor who had finally been heard and understood. "Until the day he took her, Tsala could not stay still. Mother used to say she had the curiosity that could kill and the courage to follow it. To be trapped as she is, forever still, is a special kind of hell for her that I know she would not want. But in giving her that torment, the foolish Sinclair has given us a great weapon. We see that this war is futile, but those of us here are committed. Dead or a slave no more."

  The last was said like a mantra. Alec looked back behind Tusong to the ceremonial dancing. It was not hope Alec saw in their eyes; it was relief. They intended to release the Aamaranth girl, Tsala, and blow half the planet and every baronhood citizen on it into the void beyond. Alec understood and finally felt there was something he could grasp and hold onto. In this world, there was no victory for him, but there was revenge. And for that he was forged to purpose.