Strilling through the craggy, hilly path leading to their destination, an ashram of a sort, as earlier explained by Adamma, she further went on to explain her reasons for believing Tcenex to be a god.
"Right from the moment you fell from the sky to the past two days you have been asleep," she explained, "strange and crazy things have been happening. For example, while you were in deep sleep, my father tried to remove your dirty clothe and wear you a new one, but he fell down as though something shocked him."
"That would be my... uh, charm," Tcenex began, catching himself. "It protects my belongings. If someone I don't know tries to touch what's mine without permission, it reacts defensively." He stopped abruptly, realizing he was starting to slip into language that wouldn't make sense to her. Even worse, he was coming dangerously close to revealing classified information.
How would he even begin to explain to her the protective field embedded in his body—part of a hyper-advanced defense program built into his genetic structure back on Voltrago? How would he break down the idea of an auto-triggering biological defense pulse designed to disable intruders or thieves—without sounding like he was speaking in riddles?
But again, he mustn't give up on her. She was earnest, eager to understand, and clearly intelligent in her own right. He would just have to keep things simple, use their own belief systems to bridge the gap, and be extremely careful not to reveal sensitive information.
"Where I came from," he tried again, "I had a powerful charm placed inside me by a very wise man. A seer. Like your Dibias. It was made to guard me when I'm unconscious or unable to fight back. So maybe... it thought your father was going to harm me—or steal something. I hope your father is not badly hurt."
"Hurt?" Adamma laughed, shaking her head. "That's what we thought at first when he passed out. But when he came to about an hour later, guess what happened?"
"You tell me," replied Tcenex, arching an eyebrow.
"All his ailments vanished—EVERY single one!"
Tcenex blinked, struggling to grasp her meaning. "As in...?"
"My father had endured a weakened arm and leg for years from a mysterious illness. His vision was poor, his joints ached relentlessly, and he occasionally coughed blood. His memory often failed him, and even short walks caused pain and exhaustion. But after your charm rendered him unconscious... when he finally regained consciousness—he was dancing. Laughing. Running! He claimed to feel youthful again, insisting you had cured him."
Speechless, Tcenex gazed at her for a prolonged moment, fighting to conceal his astonishment.
"Might your father be the one who shouted the most enthusiastic praise when I emerged from your house?" he asked.
"That would be him," Adamma replied with a smile.
"How fitting," he muttered.
It took him a few moments to piece together a plausible explanation. Back on Voltrago, advanced soldiers like him were infused with layers of energy systems—bioelectric frequencies so potent they could, on rare occasions, produce physical effects on organic systems they touched. Especially when unconscious, his protective field might have reacted to a perceived intrusion and discharged a burst of controlled energy. The resulting surge could have acted like a form of electromagnetic therapy on Adamma's father's sick body.
From his point of view, it was nothing more than an accidental by-product of two mismatched energy fields. To them, however, it was a holy miracle. And honestly? He didn't blame them.
He couldn't very well tell them it was just science, or that it wasn't meant to happen. To them, it had happened. And that was enough.
"And that's not even the end of it," Adamma added, her voice lowering as though sharing a sacred secret. "As soon as my father passed out, and I ran inside to help, I swear I saw the dirt on your clothe fading off—as though someone was cleaning it with invisible hands. And then... the cloth began to mend itself. The tears and holes stitched back, right in front of my eyes!"
Tcenex chuckled—more out of disbelief at how amazed she was than at the event itself. She had just witnessed the garment's built-in restorative function—powered by thousands of microscopic agents embedded within the fiber that could clean, repair, and adapt based on damage sustained. It was normal tech on his planet. Something soldiers like him barely thought twice about.
But here, to her, it was magic.
"The charm did that, too," he said casually, keeping up the act.
She looked at him with bright, wide eyes. "I knew it."
Tcenex smiled, shaking his head slowly. These people... they truly believed he was a god.
Still, he missed Voltrago. Deeply. Every moment of silence between his conversations with Adamma carried the weight of grief for his fallen brothers and sisters—the elite warriors of the Aries Star Marines who had perished during their interstellar ambush.
Brave, genetically enhanced fighters like him who had bled and burned in the cold of deep space. Some had been his friends. Others, his mentors. Some—more than that.
Now they were gone. All of them. And he was stranded on a foreign world with no contact, no ship, and no means of returning home. His only possession was his tunic and the relics stitched into his bones.
Should he avenge them?
He had thought about it. Every hour since he came to. But what could one soldier do without an army, without a ship, without support? His world was light-years away, and he had no tools, no strategy, no map.
Still... This world. This primitive world. It was offering him something his war-torn system never could.
Peace. Purpose. Even a kind of... reverence.
They believed he was sent from the sky. As he strolled with Adamma, they murmured a name bestowed upon him as if it belonged among their ancient melodies. "Chi-Nk'igwe," they called him.
The Ski God.
Children gazed at him as though he embodied the sun in human form. If he could truly assist them—genuinely make a difference—perhaps that would suffice.
Perhaps this constituted his new purpose. Not conflict. Not retribution. His mission might have transformed.
"You seem lost in thought, my lord," Adamma remarked unexpectedly.
He turned toward her, drawn from his contemplation. "Just reflecting."
"On your homeland?" she inquired gently.
"Yes."
She nodded, compassion softening her features. "I cannot fathom where you originated... or what you left behind. But perhaps Ani, the Earth Mother, guided you here with purpose."
"Perhaps," he answered, his eyes sweeping across the expansive forest rising before them.
The distant mountains glimmered in the heat. Not a cloud marred the sky. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves overhead.
And for the first time since his crash, solitude no longer enveloped him.
Yet, Tcenex's thoughts lingered...
As much as he found a rising sense of comfort in Adamma's company, he still missed his home.
Voltrago...