Chapter 260: The Forbidden Zone
"Alright, we’ll be setting up camp here for about one to two weeks. You all know your respective assignments, so I won’t waste time going over the details."
"You, you, you... and the rest of your squad, fall in. We have a secondary objective!" Jason commanded, standing at the forefront of the expedition team.
They were standing in the heart of the native village: a massive communal fire pit.
A mound of fibrous, charcoal-like material burned steadily in the center, baking the surrounding cavern floor. Swarms of the nasty, acidic black bugs circled high above the flames, desperately drawn to the thermal radiation, but the pungent scent of the native herbs kept them from landing.
Roughly two hundred reptilian natives lounged lazily on the warm dirt, soaking up the heat. At the same time, they kept their heads raised, watching Jason and his towering, metal-clad team with wide-eyed curiosity.
Their primary operational objective, "Locate the Native Village" was officially complete, and everything was proceeding smoothly.
From here, the expedition would split into two detachments. The first team would remain in the settlement to conduct field research: decoding the native language, observing their social customs, and gathering subterranean biological specimens.
The second detachment would embark on an expedition to trace the origin of the "three metal nuts" and uncover the truth behind this so-called "unknown civilization"!
Strategically, this was the far more critical mission!
Jason and a group of Senior Scientists approached the younger chieftain.
The chieftain had been aggressively arguing with the village elder just moments prior, but the instant the towering humans approached, both natives clamped their mouths shut and stood rigidly at attention.
The xeno-linguists pointed to the rusted metal nuts hanging around the chieftain’s neck. Using a mix of rudimentary hand gestures and newly compiled native vocabulary, they managed to convey their question regarding the hardware’s origin.
Suddenly, a flash of absolute terror crossed the chieftain’s reptilian face. He backed away, gesturing wildly with his claws. "Kha-rag! Kha-rag tor!"
Judging by his sheer panic, he was describing something incredibly horrific.
"What is he saying?" Jason asked, furrowing his brow.
The linguists resumed their halting, broken conversation. It took several agonizing minutes of back-and-forth before the team leader could piece together the specific meaning the chieftain was desperately trying to convey.
"Sir," the linguist began, his tone uncertain, "he’s saying that the ornaments around his neck, along with that circular metal saw blade they were using earlier, were scavenged by his ancestors from a place called the ’Forbidden Zone.’"
"...According to their lore, after their ancestors retrieved the ’treasure,’ they were cursed by evil spirits. They immediately fell violently ill and died. The few who survived the curse were rendered completely sterile."
The linguist cross-referenced the translation matrix on his data-pad, his expression growing deadly serious. "It’s a Forbidden Zone, a place of absolute death! Anyone who trespasses is tormented by an invisible sickness and dies shortly after... That has to be it."
A Forbidden Zone? A curse that causes immediate, violent sickness, death, and sterility?
Jason, a strict pragmatist grounded entirely in modern science, didn’t believe in supernatural curses or demonic magic for a second. That description sounded exactly like severe, acute radiation poisoning.
Seeing the chieftain trembling in fear, Jason thought for a moment before replying decisively, "Tell him we are the Messengers of the Gods; we fear no evil spirits. Tell him to guide us there. We will grant him a divine gift, and... we will guarantee he does not fall to the curse!"
As he spoke, Jason gave a hand signal. A Marine stepped forward and unlatched a heavy tactical briefcase.
It obviously didn’t contain Federation currency; it held a cache of supplies the logistics team had specifically curated for this exact scenario...
First-contact bribes for the natives!
The case was packed with high-carbon steel combat knives, mechanical lighters, and telescopic metal spears!
The polished metal gleamed beautifully in the flickering light of the fire pit, instantly mesmerizing both the young chieftain and the village elder.
They couldn’t comprehend the complex metallurgy, but they were so captivated by the shiny, flawless surfaces that they practically drooled onto the dirt.
Whatever these objects were... they were divine treasures!
The two natives reached out in a trance to grab them, but the Marine firmly blocked their claws.
Jason smiled, picked up one of the mechanical lighters from the foam casing, and held it up. He flicked the ignition. With a sharp click, a steady, bright flame sprouted from the nozzle.
Instantly, the surrounding lizardmen recoiled in shock, pointing frantically at the tiny fire!
"Frah-nak! (Fire!)"
"Frah-nak! (Fire!)"
They had been subjected to so many terrifying, mind-bending miracles today that they were almost numb to it. One of the younger natives, overwhelmed by curiosity, reached out to touch the lighter’s flame. He immediately yanked his claw back with a yelp, rolling on the ground and wriggling like a snake to soothe the minor burn.
But no one paid him any attention; every reptilian eye was glued to the magical flame in Jason’s hand.
Jason tossed one lighter to the village elder and handed a second to the young chieftain.
At first, they fumbled with the devices in a panic, terrified the trapped fire would leap out and burn them. However, they quickly figured out the ignition mechanism. The cavern filled with the constant click-click-click of sparking flint, accompanied by the natives’ giddy, awestruck clicking.
"Frah-nak! (Fire!)"
The surrounding villagers watched with intense, burning envy. Fire! They held fire in their bare hands!
To the reptilian natives, fire was a mystical, invaluable force. It provided light, safety, and life-saving warmth. It was their most precious resource. However, their ability to harvest and control fire was incredibly primitive, and they had no concept of how it was chemically generated.
But now, the Gods had gifted them a tiny, pocket-sized fire that could be summoned at will! Was this the true power of the divine?
"Lighter. It’s called a lighter," the lead linguist said, pointing to the device and articulating the Federation word slowly.
"Ly-tah!"
The young chieftain suddenly shrieked the word. This sound didn’t exist in their native tongue; he was actively mimicking the human language.
"Lighter! It’s a lighter!" the linguist repeated encouragingly.
"Ly-tah! Ly-tah!" Even the village elder began screeching the word in pure ecstasy. This truly was a gift from the heavens. It was an unfathomable miracle, erasing any lingering doubts in their minds.
Combine that with the razor-sharp steel knives and the indestructible metal spears... it was more than enough!
The Gods were incredibly generous! Furthermore, the commands of the Gods were absolute!
...For treasures like these, they would gladly march into the jaws of death!
The native leaders clicked and hissed among themselves for a few minutes before reaching a consensus. They would assemble a squad of their strongest, bravest hunters, led personally by the young chieftain, to guide the metal giants.
The selected hunters rushed back to their burrows to pack. They emerged wearing thick, cured leather hides and carrying heavy satchels packed with raw meat and fungal rations. Following a solemn, ritualistic departure ceremony to honor their bravery, the native guides formed up, ready to march.
Looking at the natives fully bundled in heavy leathers and hauling massive rucksacks of supplies, Jason couldn’t help but ask in confusion, "Wait a minute. Have them clarify the route. Are they saying we need to cross the surface? And ask them exactly how long this trek is supposed to take."
Another arduous round of broken translation ensued...
The lead linguist rubbed his temples, a headache forming. "Captain, they’re saying that reaching the Forbidden Zone requires traversing the freezing, hostile surface. But they don’t possess a mathematical concept of time. They measure distance in consumption... They said it will take ’forty to fifty meals.’ Based on our metabolic estimates for their species, forty meals equates to... roughly thirty days of continuous travel."
Jason blinked in surprise. A one-month march? That is way too slow!
"Pull up the orbital satellite maps. See if they can comprehend a topographical view. If they can point out the general location, we’ll just call down a dropship and fly there," Jason ordered after a moment’s thought.
The linguist sighed and pulled out his digital tablet, attempting another round of frustrating communication.
Even with the translation matrix, abstract concepts remained a massive hurdle. The linguist gestured and pointed for several minutes, only to realize that the lizardmen possessed absolutely no cognitive concept of maps, cardinal directions, or aerial perspectives. Teaching them cartography on the fly was impossible. The only option left was trial and error through visual elimination.
The native hunters crowded around the scientist, completely mesmerized as he swiped through image after image—high-resolution, ground-level photographs taken by Federation recon drones. Since the lizardmen couldn’t understand a top-down map, they had to rely on recognizing localized landmarks.
If one of the drone photos happened to capture the perimeter of their "Forbidden Zone," the Federation forces could simply lock onto the GPS coordinates and fly there themselves.
"Kha! Kha!"
Suddenly, one of the hunters shrieked, jabbing a claw at the screen. The other natives instantly recognized it too, clicking excitedly and gesturing wildly at the tablet.
Jason walked over to inspect the screen. The photograph displayed a massive, jagged, extinct volcano located roughly 600 kilometers away from their current position!
It seemed they had their destination. It really was incredibly far!
