“Now explain it to me again, Private Simins. And don't leave out a single detail.”
The young soldier straightened his uniform, his black furred tail lashing nervously behind him as the General loomed over his shoulder. Wiping the sweat quickly from his palms, his place his hands on the console and typed out a quick command. In an instant, what looked like a simple requisition appeared before them, though one the General was entirely unfamiliar with.
“Sir, I was taking a walk a after dinner... I think it was a month ago. I... Well, sir, I was a little lost in my thoughts about the the approaching enemy and I got turned around. When I saw the console here, I intended to access the local map and find my way back when this popped up. I, uh...” Private Simins cleared his throat before pressing on quickly. “I had never seen anything like it, and I know how our supply situation is looking, so I kind of... Filled in the form and requested food and medical supplies for our people. It seemed to automatically link my bank account, so I used my own money to post the Commission.”
The General grunted in response as he pushed the Private aside. Placing his own hands on the console, intending to investigate it personally, he frowned in confusion when the screen flickered and the form disappeared, leaving him staring at a blank command prompt. “What the... What did you type to pull up that page?”
“Commissions, sir. It was the command that was already on the screen the first time I was here.”
The General quickly typed the command, his frown growing in intensity when nothing happened. Trying it once more, he huffed in annoyance at the still blank screen. After a moment, he tried different commands, easily accessing parts of the city's maps and systems. Stepping back quickly, he waved Private Simins at the screen, nearly growling when the form appeared again under the young man's prompting hands. “These peripheral consoles are not supposed to have any of the new bio-metric locks. We've barely implemented them in critical areas.”
Irritably waving away the issues, he folded his arms and glared at the screen. “Show me this Commission you posted. And tell me what happened after that?”
With a stroke of his finger, Private Simins was quick to do as the General said.
* Siege Supplies – With our city about to come under siege, we are laying in additional supplies. We can offer 1 credit per pound of edible foodstuffs. Any medical supplies for treating our soldiers will also be suitably rewarded, depending both on their quantity and usefulness. (Repeatable)
“Sir, the console required me to convert my Zathra into these things it calls Credits, which I guess is some other form of money...” Private Simins withered under the intense glare the General directed at him. “Then it allowed me to post the Commission. I waited to see if there was some sort of a response, but nothing happened. So, I made my way back to my bunk and pretty much forgot about it.”
“You forgot about it?”
Private Simins nearly flinched at the scathing tone. “Y-yes, sir. I thought maybe it was just a bug in the console or something. But, about a week later, I received a notification on my call unit telling me the Commission was filled and that I could retrieve my delivery. It directed me back here, where I found the bags of food and medical supplies. I then asked Jinx... Uh, I mean, Private Jinkans, to help me move it all to the depot.”
“And you said more supplies were delivered a week later?”
Private Simins relaxed slightly as the General's tone softened. Suppressing a smile, he nodded quickly. “Yes sir. I set the Commission to be repeatable as long as I had enough Credits. Every time I've gotten paid, I converted my extra Zathra to Credits to make keep it going.”
The General stood, deep in thought for several long minutes. The silence grew heavy before the older man broke it, his tone wavering between hope and fear as he struggled to control it. “Do you know how these supplies are being brought in? City security has been tripled over the past month, and we've had no reports of breaches.”
Private Simins nodded quickly before shaking his head. At the General's arched eyebrow, he hurriedly explained. “I was concerned as well, sir. The deliveries have been fairly regular, so I requested two days leave and came down here to watch for it.” Gesturing to a damaged building nearby, his voice held a note of awe. “I watched from over there... and, in the blink of an eye, the supplies just appeared here, all neatly bundled up.”
“They just appeared?”
Hearing the doubt in the General's voice, Simins hesitated for a second. Lowering his voice despite no one else being around, he spoke with conviction, though an edge of pleading bled into his words. “I swear Uncle Bok. I was watching the exact spot. Nothing was there, then I blinked and suddenly there's bags and boxes full of stuff. I even tried recording it and it shows the same thing. One second there's nothing, the next there's stuff. Like a magic trick or something.”
General Bok Apsin's tail drooped at his nephew's tone, his mind racing over thoughts of their relationship. Had he been too tough on the boy? He sounded terrified that he wouldn't be believed. Perhaps he should work on fixing things with his family, especially the nephew that was named after him...
Patting his nephew on the shoulder, he gave him an encouraging nod. “Its okay Bokka. I know you wouldn't lie about something this important. You can show me the recording later.” Looking around with a critical eye, Bok came to a decision. “You said the deliveries are regular? When do you think the next one will be here? I want your squad here to monitor it and look out for any security issues.”
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Bokka's tail waved in joy and excitement at the implied approval. His hard-case uncle wasn't mad at him! It took a moment for the questions to register, and he rushed to answer. “That's why I brought you down here now, Uncle. If this Merchant Silk keeps to roughly the same schedule, the supplies should be here tonight or tomorrow. I was honestly hoping they would appear while you were here. I was worried... I mean, I wanted to be able to show you...” He trailed off lamely, struggling to find the words he needed to express.
General Bok turned back to his nephew, but his words died on his lips as his eyes widened in surprise. Sitting there, in the previously empty spot next to the console, were bags of food and bandages. “Spirits above! When? How?” He sputtered for a moment as he hesitantly touch the strange looking food. It was so different from their own, but his people assured him it was safe to eat. The council was still on the fence, but if it came to eating strange food or starving, he knew what his soldiers would choose.
Pulling his straying thoughts back into line, an excited smile stretched across his face. “Good. Good! I need to start things moving, get funds transferred so you can maintain the Commission. This won't win the war, but damned if it won't help us survive! We'll need security on this square, just in case. And someone to move the supplies...” Trailing off in thought, he eventually clapped his nephew on the back. “Since this thing seems to work for you, I'll get you bumped up to lead the squad posted here. I know you won't let me down.”
Turning and marching away, he tried to ignore the tears of joy and relief in his nephews eyes. Pausing just before he rounded the corner, he knew he couldn't leave just like that. Looking back at the young man, The General was suddenly nervous. “And... Tell your mother I'll come by soon? Its been too long since I've visited.”
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Casandra quietly entered the Shaman's hut to find him praying before the Altar of Spirits once again. Kneeling to the side with a bowed head, she examined him out of the corner of her eye. His hair had gone completely white in just the last year, and dense wrinkles lined his face. Once gray skin had turned sickly pale, and two of his four arms no longer worked- one hung limp at his side, while the other ended at the elbow, the result of a bandit attack in his youth. His back was perpetually hunched, as though the burden of his role as their spiritual leader carried a physical weight. Despite all of that, he was always smiling. Always hopeful...
“Ah, my young disciple has returned. Did you have any problems performing the ritual?” The Shaman croaked, his voice hoarse and smokey as he struggled to pull himself to his feet.
“No, Shaman Elisha. I... I could feel the Spirits, working through me. The soil is more fertile and, come spring, will be easier to work. But...” Casandra sighed, her normally musical voice sounding discordant to her own ears and heavy with weariness and fear. “I don't think it will be enough. Even if we manage to grow enough food next year, I fear the damage will already be done. The children...”
Her voice hitched as tears welled in her eyes. Shaman Elisha clasped her shoulders gently with his gnarled hands. “I know child. Things will be difficult going forward, for the village but especially for you. But the Spirits provide, Casandra. The spirits provide.”
Confusion spiked in her heart as she watched him pull the necklace from his own neck and run his wizened hands over it lovingly. Wooden charms hung from the necklace in intervals, each one made by a previous Shaman of their tribe and added to the necklace before they passed it, and the responsibility it represented, on to the next in line. Having seen the necklace everyday of the five years of her apprenticeship, she gasped in shock when she saw the new token that had been added. A simple wooden token with an apple carved into it.
Shaman Elisha chose the apple to represent his failing the tribe and his hope for salvation.
Not for himself, but for the tribe. Everything for the tribe.
“Shaman, you can't! You still have many years to..”
Elisha carefully pulling the necklace over her head to hang around her neck cut her words off cleanly, and only choked sobs could be heard for a moment as he patted her hair tenderly. “The Spirits provide, Casandra, though sometimes that means sacrifice. Remember this as you guide the tribe into a better future. I know you will do well, and I'm proud to be the first to call you Shaman.”
Elisha pulling her to her feet surprised her, his arms showing a strength the withered limbs should no longer possess. “Now, Shaman Casandra, I ask you to bear witness to my last act in service of our tribe.”
Elisha's back straightened as though he had finally put down a great weight as he strode confidently to the altar at the center of the hut. Without hesitation, he climbed up onto the altar and lay himself across it, staring up with wide eyes as though he saw something others could not.
For a brief moment, golden flames arose from the altar and surrounded the old man, consuming him. In an instant, they were gone.
And so was the former Shaman.
In their place sat a large brown box, the likes of which Cassandra had never seen. Approaching it cautiously, she poked the side experimentally. When nothing happened, she touched it again, finding the strange material to be softer than she expected as it flexed under her grasping hands. Seeing a pair of flaps being held down some sort of clear stripe, she held down the box with one hand and gripped a flap tightly, preparing to pry it open. With a flex of her strong arms, she yanked on the flap- only to tumbled back as she ripped a large chunk of cardboard free.
Eyeing the box warily, she discarded the chunk she had pulled free. The steep cost of this gift from the Spirits flickered through her mind and strengthened her resolve. Grabbing the box once more, she methodically tore sections away from the top until she could see inside.
A dozen smaller boxes greeted her, as well as a note written on some strange, white parchment.
Her brow furrowed as she picked up the parchment. While most of the tribe could not read, Elisha had insisted that she learn. Though he always complimented her progress with reading, she felt awkward and stupid as she sounded out what was written on the page. “Chil-dren's multi vi... vi-ta-mins?”
She paused for a moment at the strange word. What, exactly, was a vitamin? “Inside the bott-les are multi vita... vitamin pills-” Her breath caught in her throat at the word. Did the Spirits send them magical pills to save their tribe? Quickly returning her focus to the note, she read on. “-for children. Two pills a day will help sup-supple-”
Casandra groaned in frustration, wishing she had focused more on the reading lessons even as she pressed on. “Sup-ple-ment their nu-tri-tion-al needs.” She stood, frozen in awe as she stared at the word. She remembered that word- sort of. Nutrition was a word Elisha used when talking about food. Did the Spirits truly send them magical food pills for the children?
Quickly reading the rest of the note, it explained that regular food was still needed, the magical pills simply helped the children when things like fruit and vegetables were in short supply. Tears of joy and relief flooded her eyes as she dropped to her knees in fervent prayer.
The Spirits provide. And, perhaps, the children would not suffer from stunted growth.
In his last moments as the golden fire consumed him, Elisha's prayers were answered as he saw a message from the Spirits. He smiled with joy as he read it, knowing that the tribe would survive.
* Think of the Children – Transaction complete.