We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 3: Chapter 34: Kidnapping

Book 3: Chapter 34: Kidnapping

Bob

September 2224

Delta Eridani (Eden)

I was sitting in the sun with Buster, watching him casually work a piece of flint, when the Deltan came running up. He bent over, gasping for breath for a few moments, then straightened. “Archimedes has been grabbed. I think it was some guys from Caerleon. Must have been.”

I leaped to my feet and almost yelled at the runner, “Have you told Donald? Anyone else?”

He nodded, still gasping. “Yeah, Donald’s gathering some hunters.”

I looked over to see Buster silently gathering his bow and arrows. He didn’t say anything; didn’t look at me or at the runner. His fur was flat, his inner turmoil telegraphed by his ears, which were curled in rage. Someone was going to die today.

We hurried over to the hunters’ tree, where a group was forming. Donald waved at me as I came up.

“Well, Robert, it looks like you and Archimedes might have been right. There’s only one reason for them to grab him.”

I shook my head. “Two reasons, actually. If Fred is involved, he may also be trying to get a reaction from me. I’m pretty sure I hurt his feelings, last time we met.” I glanced at Buster, standing beside me. “If Fred’s involved, today is his final day of life, I think.”

Buster stared straight ahead, still not looking at anyone.

I’d set spy drones to searching for any large, fast-moving parties of Deltans. Reports were now starting to come in. I checked the heads-up. It showed two different groups, but only one was on a determined beeline for Caerleon. My bet would be on that one.

I instructed the drones to try for close-ups, and gave them Archimedes’ profile to identify. Then I turned to Donald. “Chances are they’re on the East Trail, or will be soon. We can cut straight through the Deep Copse to catch up.” I hoped Donald wouldn’t question me. I knew for a fact that was true, but I couldn’t explain how without blowing my cover.

Fortunately, Donald took my word for it and started giving orders. In moments, we were running toward the Deep Copse, a thick grove of especially tall, old trees. Paradoxically, because of the thickness of the trees, there was very little underbrush to slow us down. We made it through in minutes.

I held up my hand to stop the group and made a show of listening, then gestured up the trail. We took off at a sprint. It took less than a minute to catch up to the Caerleon group, who I knew had been having a problem with their captive grabbing every tree and branch he could reach. From my position, it looked like they’d solved the problem by beating Archimedes unconscious and then carrying him.

A low growl escaped my throat, and I hoisted my spear. The Caerleon party, hearing our approach, stopped and formed a defensive semicircle, spears pointing outwards.

Fred stepped forward, grinning his usual smug, nasty grin. “Hello, Robert. Robert’s lackies. I suggest you accept the inevitable. Your friend is going to be—”

Fred looked down at the arrow protruding from his chest. With a surprised expression, he fell to his knees, then collapsed sideways to the ground.

A week later, Archimedes was looking much better. He hadn’t lost the eye, although he was still complaining about blurry vision.

He sat with his granddaughter, Lisa, who went into fits of giggles watching her grandfather eating baby food. He’d be on that diet for a few more weeks, according to Belinda.

Donald sat in front of the fire, nursing a large hunk of jerky. He extended an arm, holding a knife out to me. I took the flint blade and examined it.

“Mm, yeah, not exactly up to Archimedes’ standards.”

“It’s crap,” Donald said. “It looks like you guys were right. We questioned a couple of the survivors, after the medicine woman was done with them. By the way, she thinks you’re an idiot for wasting resources healing enemies.”

I waved the comment away. “Once the fight is over, everyone bleeds the same color. And Annie is way more reasonable than Cruella ever was. She would have just told me to stuff it.”

Donald nodded. “Anyway, the knife is some of the best work coming out of Caerleon. So they have crap knives and crap spears, and are barely doing better with hunting than how my father says things were back at the old village. They’ve even started to get gorilloids sniffing around again.”

“And they blame us.”

Donald grinned at me. “I never said it made sense. I guess it’s our fault for having more skilled people and better tools and better hunting.”

“And more adults.” I grinned back. Then I grew serious. “But if this is the problem, it’s fixable. Just have some of their best and brightest come over and get Archimedes to train them.”

“I’m sure they’ve thought of it,” Buster cut in, as he came up and sat down. “But there’s been so much fighting, they probably think we’d just laugh at them.”

“And they don’t want to look weak.”

I rubbed the fur above my eyebrow, the Deltan equivalent of pinching the bridge of my nose. “Unbelievable. So, how do we broach the subject?”

Archimedes looked up from playing with Lisa. “We should just offer to teach a couple of their people.”

“The teaching thing didn’t work so well before,” I pointed out.

“They weren’t hungry before,” Archimedes answered. “I bet they’ll pay more attention now.”

We looked at each other around the fire. No one had to put it into words. It was worth a try.