Watching the Watchers

[Cassie Granger 0]

Watching the Watchers

Cass moved through the jostling midday crowd, mindful of the positions of the rest of Away Team Bravo. Tribal societies tended to be wary of strangers, but that didn’t seem to be the case here. Two possibilities cropped up immediately: the team was doing a darned good job blending in or the villagers were not as skittish about strangers as they should be - which meant they were probably used to strangers, which in turn led to all kinds of other possibilities, most of which didn’t sound good.

Slipping that information into watch your six, Cass moved to the crowd’s periphery. Close quarters made her antsy and the dynamics of the crowd was changing rapidly from casual to curious and excited.

A scouting party emerged from the brush, shouting as they shoved a bound hill tribe man toward a stone wall. He was bloody and weak but still very much alive. Stepping onto a boulder for a better look, Cass matched her reactions to those of the crowd. After brief eye-contact with Jed, a glint of sunlight off a metal object caught her attention. Big time.

The crowd grew silent as an older man emerged from a low stone building, his left hand holding a shiny new flintlock. Before its sharp report faded in the distance the hill man lay lifeless, a thick, dark puddle soaking the ground beneath his head.

Masking her gut reaction, Cass pushed on to analysis. It was a pretty far cry from bows and arrows. Several thousand years, in fact. So how the hell...?

With the exception of a few gawkers, the crowd began to disperse. Around the returning hunting party, a group of warriors formed, admiring the weapons.

In the time they’d spent on-planet, Cass had made a pretty good assessment of the culture. Societal levels tiered down from warriors to farmers with varying degrees of merchants and storekeepers between, menial laborers at rock bottom. Most of the warriors were male, but there were a few females, taller and more conditioned than the domestic type. The villagers also depended a great deal on body language - a good thing for the away team, and especially good for Cass.

She joined the group, openly admiring the flintlocks, receiving one for trial when it was handed to her. A burly male from the hunting party approached her, gave her the once-over, and jutted out his chin in a mix of admiration and who the hell are you?

She returned the gesture, her chin thrust proudly in borderline defiance, the flintlock held to the side. Pounding her chest with her free hand, she gave a grunt followed by, “Spasar Thach,” supposedly the name of her distant village. Slowly, deliberately, the male’s glare spread into a broad grin.

“Dagh,” he exclaimed, pounding her on the back. “Dach!” He grabbed her shoulder and turned to the group as though in introduction. “Dach!” he called again, pointing to Cass. Then he moved on to his next recruit.

Clutching the flintlock, she disappeared into the crowd.

TBC in sim...