******

  Liberty stormed into the evergreen forest, arms at her side and hands clenched in blood stopping, white-knuckled fists. As her heart pounded and blood roared in her ears, all she could think about was getting away from the crash site.

  The confrontation with Major McBride had been a mistake; she was, after all, Nash’s number one officer and would blindly follow his lead, no matter how foolish. Afterwards, she had tried to gather a following to her cause, but every colonist rebuked her.

  What was wrong with them? Didn’t they realize where this path led? The Western-European culture had destroyed every other culture it had encountered. First, it was the American Indians and Asians on Earth. Centuries later, history repeated with the Minervans and Zybolians.

  Nash claimed to only want trade with the native cultures, but he’d already involved himself in a conflict between two native cultures and it was all too apparent who he’d picked as a winner. He even killed one of the drogs on the trip back to the crash site. What happened to his claim of treading lightly? If he feared for his life, he could have easily used a plasma weapon on stun. But no, he had to kill an innocent and show this planet what happens to species that stand in his way.

  Liberty stopped and looked at the surrounding trees. She had not intended to go this far into the forest and now had no idea of where she was. Her eyes darted around and sweat poured from her body. All of the massive evergreens looked the same.

  The sound of a blade drawn from a sheath filled the forest. She quickly grabbed a fallen tree branch thick as her arm and raised it like a baseball bat. She turned round and round, searching for the source of the sound. And that is when she saw him.

  He stepped from behind a colossal softwood, sword drawn. Exceptionally thin with skin dark as coal, his deep set fiery eyes glowered at Liberty. Hair the color of frost on a mid-winter’s morning fell past his shoulders. He was cloaked in a black leather tunic and trousers, with glossy knee-boots the color of anthracite. The sword was a meter in length, with a blade that was nearly straight except for a graceful curve near the tip.

  Sword pointed a Liberty’s throat, he approached with slow steps. His face showed no emotion, nor did his eyes blink.

  Liberty waved her club and shouted. “Whoever you are, I’m not afraid to club you with this. I’m warning you!”

  The dark skinned one did not lower his blade but continued to slowly advance.

  “I’m warning you, I’ll use this!” Liberty continued to wave her weapon.

  When the blade was a hand width from her neck, the being stopped and lowered the sword. He began to circle Liberty and when he stood behind her, he spoke is a soft voice, nearly a whisper. “You are from the crashed spacecraft?”

  Liberty turned and faced him with wide eyes. “Yes. How did you know? Who are you?”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Seven hundred fifty. Who are you?”

  “Like you, I am marooned on this planet, although I have been here for many, many years.” He began to circle around her again. “You appear distraught. All is not well?”

  “They’re fools,” Liberty snapped. “None will listen to reason. They all blindly follow Colonel Nash.”

  “And has this Colonel Nash done something… unsavory?”

  “Instead of allowing the native cultures of this planet to evolve naturally, he has involved himself in their affairs. He decided to help the tillers because it is to his advantage. He will take from them what he wants, in the process destroying their culture and that of the drogs as well.”

  “What do you know of the drogs?”

  “The Colonel chased them from the village of Vale. He also killed one in the forest near here.”

  “I see. Interesting.” He sheathed his sword and crossed his arms over his chest. “It is not right to destroy another culture. It happened many times in the history of my planet. And you say none would listen to you.”

  “Of course not! All they were interested in was making life more comfortable. They didn’t care that they would destroy tiller or drog culture.”

  “I would not want to see that happen. As I said, I’ve been here for many years and done my best to keep a distance from the other cultures on this planet. Would you like to put an end to Colonel Nash’s meddling?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I can give you guidance… advice that will make this possible. Come with me; there are other survivors of my people. We will discuss these events, and perhaps we can help you.”

  Liberty tossed her stick to the ground. “Lead the way.”

  The End

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  About the Author

  AJ Reissig lives in New Richmond, Ohio with his lovely wife Christina and children.  Born in 1973, AJ Reissig grew up in the small river town of Moscow, Ohio.  He is a graduate of the University of Cincinnati with a background in chemistry.  After spending several years as an analyst in manufacturing, he began to pursue writing as a part-time freelancer. His hobbies include gardening, woodworking, home improvement, and anything outdoors.

 
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