Expedition Nereus

by Ilya Martynov

  "Well, who knows. Your generation is so fast, so dynamic... you do everything quickly," Sam's dad decided not to refrain from the positive subject.

  Sam chose not to react to his dad's toast. He turned to Janet and, closing his eyes, gave her a kiss on her left cheek. She withdrew in shyness, giggling lightly. Mr. and Mrs. Norwell exchanged looks.

  "How long have you known each other?" Sam's mom tried to change the topic. Although she had long known everything, seeing as how Sam asked her for advice many times on how to court his new sweetheart, Sally wanted to create a sense of ease.

  "Yes, mmm...," Sam seemed confused, glancing at Janet. "Already six months." Still deciding to taunt his dad, he blurted out. "For already six months I've been trying to introduce my girlfriend to my parents. We're serious!"

  "Sam, calm down," Janet said, barely audible, sensing the conversation was getting intense.

  "It's true. I agree with you, Janet," Mr. Graham carried on. "Sometimes Sam is needlessly impulsive and fretful."

  Sam glared at his dad, but Herbert pretended not to have noticed it.

  "Janet, do you study or work somewhere?" Herbert Norwell went on.

  "I'm finishing the Higher School of Module Design, Mr. Norwell."

  Despite her usual cheeriness, her voice sounded calm, even morose. She was perfectly aware who Sam's dad was and, being a girl from a less well-off family, she was very ashamed of her origins. She seemed to shy away from Mr. Norwell, not wanting to feel embarrassed. The fact that the last month he had started appearing in the news making announcements about the successful Space Agency mission only seemed to pile on the pressure. Janet, who wasn't accustomed to publicity, felt she was being crushed by the huge media presence of Sam's dad.

  "That's the school where you're taught to create designs for new environments?" Mrs. Norwell asked in a sincerely interested tone, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

  "Yes, that too," Janet answered, hanging her head and shifting her fork along the golden edge of her plate.

  "That's a good choice!" Mr. Norwell exclaimed, breaking into a smile.

  Looking at him, Sam mentally threw his fork at his father. Recently, he had noticed with great annoyance how increasingly fake his dad was acting. He had always required such behavior to conceal some details from journalists, but Sam couldn't understand why there was a need to stretch the truth and feign a smile at home with his dearest ones. The younger Norwell couldn't think of any reason for it. At the same time, he didn't think his dad had something really bad to hide.

  "Let's raise our glasses to Janet and Sam!" Mr. Norwell said, putting on a fake smile. S

  am's mom tried to make something like a smile, shifting her eyes from Janet to Sam and raising her glass with red wine. Janet gave Sam a perplexed look and tried to smile. The dinner obviously wasn't going well.

  "What plans do you young ones have for the evening?" Sally chimed in.

  "Nothing for now," Sam responded listlessly, poking at the plate of spaghetti and salad with his fork. "We thought about riding on a stagecoach before going to the terrace where there's an evening showing. Today they have Venus atmosphere flight simulators going to the music of 'One Dust Molecule', but Janet said she needed to prepare for her test, so we decided to put it off until next time."

  "Right, studying's most important," Mr. Norwell commented, raising his fork with a stretched-out index finger. "If Sam had prepared for his exams better, he'd now..." Suddenly he stopped short as though he said something wrong.

  "Dad, stop it! Please! You know I got seriously injured after the race, so I never made it to finals," Sam burst out, unable to control himself.

  "Yes, I'm sorry... You're right," Mr. Norwell answered in a suddenly thoughtful tone, with a tinge of worry and guilt. But the feeling of worry and guilt appeared not because of what Sam said, but because of the reason only he knew.

  "You're doing well, Janet. Keep up your studies," Sally added.

  Janet spent the remainder of the evening answering the few questions posed by Sam's mom. Mr. Norwell said almost nothing, keeping a strained smile as if he were still taking part in the conversation.

  An hour later, Mr. Norwell placed his payment bracelet to the waiter drone to pay the bill.

  That evening Herbert Norwell decided that he'd definitely talk to Sam after dinner. At first, he was glad that Sam wasn't going anywhere with Janet, allowing him a chance to talk to his son. But then the realization that the hard talk would happen two or three hours earlier made him fret even more. Thoughts whirled around Mr. Norwell's head like they were a chaotic merry-go-round, and they couldn't collect themselves into a well-composed logical picture.

  Sam and Janet said goodbye to one another for a long while, embracing each other several times. Now Janet's face was more cheerful as she smiled and laughed at Sam's jokes. They weren't different from any other young couple. The only thing that was strange about their romantic date was the place of their farewell. Almost no young couple would ever appear at the Beauty Rocks restaurant. Rich politicians, wealthy businessmen, and famous personalities frequented there. Jack and Sam always used to marvel at how society's structure remained the same despite many years passing since the first two cataclysms and humanity learning more about itself and changing its attitude towards nature. Wealthy individuals continued trying to get their hands on as many resources as possible, leaving common people who weren't born into money to dream of living such a life of luxury.

  Even the serious shocks to the planet couldn't build a society devoid of social classes. Such constructs formed automatically because of the unequal distribution of resources. They sprouted like mushroom mycelia throughout all of society. The Norwell family became just another family at the top of the pyramid. They, like other well-off families, tried to imitate the luxurious world of the 20th century. partly adopting the morals and manners from that exalted bygone era.

  In Norwell's opinion, Janet clearly didn't match his viewpoint about a perfect match for Sam. But knowing his son's tendency to quickly change girlfriends, he didn't pay much attention to this dinner engagement. Most of that evening, Herbert Norwell thought not about his son's personal life, but how to tell his soon a recently discovered truth. It wasn't directly related to Sam, but it involved someone he cared about a great deal.

  36

  Once home, Mr. Norwell asked Sam to visit his study in half an hour before going to bed.

  When Sam arrived at his father's home office, he noticed how tense his dad was, judging by the expression on his face. There was something weighing heavily on Mr. Norwell's heart, something so heavy it dragged on his shoulders.

  "You wanted to talk?" Sam asked nonchalantly.

  Mr. Norwell stood next to his old-fashioned, green velvet table. He sighed and offered Sam to take a seat. The younger Norwell refused.

  "Have it your way," Herbert started, sitting at his desk.

  Perhaps, this set-up would give him some confidence. By doing this, at least he could get into the role of being a boss talking to his employee. But this time, the situation obviously didn't match the mental image.

  "Dad, I'm listening. What do you want to tell me?"

  "Look, it's not that easy. I'd prefer not telling you anything, if only..." He fell silent for a moment, staring at the green glossy velvet.

  "If what?"

  "If only it didn't involve your friend Jack... Jack Sallenge. He's the research officer on the Avant Light expedition."

  Sam's eyes opened wide in shock. His neck stiffened. He guessed what his dad was going to tell him.

  "If only he were alive. If only he could have gotten through it," Sam's thoughts raced through his mind.

  "Is he alive? What is the news? Did they establish contact?" Sam couldn't control himself.

  "Sam, listen... it's not that simple..."

  "Answer me! Is Jack alive?"

  "Yes. At least according to the information we have."

  Sam took a seat, his legs feeling feeble. His mind
became slow to process, and he sensed his cheeks go numb.

  "Tell me everything you know. Please," Sam said in a whisper.

  "I'm trying... You remember we lost connection with the Avant Light almost two years ago, if not even more by now. As it turned out, the engines needed to be restarted twice. The ship was forced to slow down several times. As a result, their trip took 29 months and three weeks, according to our data."

  "So now they're on the planet?"

  "Mmmm... well, how to say it," Mr. Norwell was aghast at what he needed to say. He tried to find the right words so that he wouldn't lie to his son without blurting out anything extra.

  "Technically, yes," he finally replied.

  Sam's eyes almost shot out of their sockets.

  "What is 'technically' supposed to mean?"

  "Almost the entire crew died... but please, Sam, no one..."

  "What the hell!? How is it possible!?”

  "Only Jack survived," Mr. Norwell snapped.

  "Idiots! Bastards!" Sam barked.

  He knew that he wouldn't be able to avoid having this conversation with his father. Ever since contact had been lost with the ship, Sam's hope to see his friend again faded with every passing day. But he had never imagined his reaction would be so vindictive. His usually cheery, dimpled face was now one with the look of shock, confusion, and absolute helplessness.

  "When did you find out about it?"

  "A few weeks ago," Mr. Norwell felt relieved he had told the biggest news.

  "What!? You couldn't tell me earlier!?" Sam yelled. "I waited for so long! And everyone was frakking silent!"

  "There was very little information. I wasn't pretty sure..."

  "But why!? Why has no one known about this for so long?"

  "Because I was removed from the project."

  Sam gulped and froze for a moment, his head leaning to the side.

  "And you could do nothing?" the younger Norwell continued, coming back to his senses.

  " Linda Robore took control of the project. Now I'm only responsible for blabbering with journalists... and this..."

  "That wrinkled old hag with dark hair!?"

  "Don't say that. We don't make fun of people's appearances. You know that."

  "I don't give a damn. It's complete nonsense! She said nothing! I wish she was vented into space and burned on the Sun! Frak!"

  "Sam, calm down," Mr. Norwell said angrily.

  "So why is she silent? And why are you? Is this a cover-up?"

  "No. She just doesn't care," Herbert Norwell probably couldn't control himself either by now. "Yes, she doesn't care. Perhaps. The message from the on-duty manager was sent a few weeks ago, but she didn't think it was important to notify me. Newland told me himself. At first, he thought that she informed me, but perhaps she thought that there was no need to worry anyone."

  "Why?" Sam couldn't believe his ears.

  "Perhaps it's much more important for her to make herself comfortable in her new position of Director of Intergalactic Missions," Herbert felt pleased because he now understood how to wound Linda's pride when the occasion arose.

  He glanced somewhere behind Sam.

  "Perhaps, she was panicking too... still, it's pointless to discuss it now. We've got new information now."

  "And where is Director Newland in all of this?"

  "Government officials have been circling Director Newland. Missions have been slashed... and..." he fell silent, glancing at his son.

  "What?" Sam asked, frowning.

  "And I think they gave Linda this post on purpose. She had gone through bureaucratic hell before coming to us."

  During the next hour and a half, the older Norwell calmly answered his son's questions. He understood that his own son could have been in Jack's position.

  His beloved Sam.

  Mr. Norwell knew Jack very well and considered him almost like a second son. He was no less worried than Sam about what happened, but his high position and social status didn't allow him to display his attitude about what was going on. An official of his rank should have no emotions at all. If someone in the Agency discovered that Mr. Norwell had a personal stake in current events, he'd be immediately dismissed with a reprimand in his record that he "was fired from service for failure to perform his obligations due to personal conflict of interest."

  He carefully told Sam about the details Jack had given about the shuttle crashes before he went against his instructions. He showed his son the recording of the message Jack has sent from Nereus through the teleport.

  Sam covered his mouth, watching the visual simulation of his friend's tired face for a second time. He was analyzing every familiar movement on Jack's face, living through the moments with the recording.

  "He survived! Frakking Jack!" Sam blurted out, suddenly happy, breaking away from the message.

  However, Sam did feel slight bitterness at the realization the other crew members had perished. Even though they weren't close, he had personally known Captain Graham. The Captain had visited their house several times for dinner before the launch, and the Norwells eagerly asked him about the details of further flights.

  Sitting in his dad's study, Sam failed to comprehend how advanced technical spacecraft piloted by experienced pilots could crash. It was no longer the 20th century when very little was known about the atmospheric density of other planets. After long years of practice, dozens of different maneuvers had been mastered for many possible situations.

  "Maybe it was a set-up?" Sam thought to himself.

  That night, he found it challenging to fall asleep. It was even harder to get used to the thought that he couldn't tell anyone anything yet. But now his heart held out hope that his best friend not only survived but he could become a national hero who they would one day send a ship to so that he would return to Earth. At least, if this could happen before he died.

  37

  Something big and large pierced his leg, and now it was trying to pull him off the airbike. Consumed by terror, Jack could hardly comprehend a claw as sharp as a saber had pierced his leg. Clinging to Jack, the huge predator tried to yank him to the ground. The airbike, having lost its pilot, remained in place. Jack held on to the side of his seat, but the creature continued to yank on him. The lieutenant felt like he would soon be torn in two. Jack tried to pull himself back on, but every effort was in vain as the creature dragging him down was too strong. An idea suddenly struck him to kick the creature with his free leg. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't strike the creature.

  Suddenly, Jack felt a sharp pull as the saber-claw seemed to turn abruptly in his bleeding leg, only intensifying the pain. Jack was jerked so sharply that he felt something pop, but he still managed to hold on. Another tug and the sharp claw tore a piece of flesh from his leg. Lieutenant Sallenge heard a furious, deafening roar as the creature stopped pulling on him.

  Summoning what shreds remained of his bravery and strength, Jack pulled himself back into the protection of the airbike's forcefield. The saber-claws whistled mere centimeters from his nose. The predator reared up on its two hind legs, trying to seize the officer from the aircraft. His hands trembling, Jack pressed the button to raise the frontal deflector, knocking away the claws that tried to grab him. The powerful force field sliced off the protuberances of the animal's jaw, the pincers still twitching as though they were two living snakes. Jack vomited from what he saw. Spitting out the rest of his undigested meal, he struggled to climb back into the seat, turning the autopilot on and setting the top speed.

  The next half hour was a great big blur for him as the landscape flew in front of his half-closed eyes. The airbike raced along the planet's surface at high speeds unknown to the local inhabitants. In seemingly no time, the Overplan-500 began to slow down. It seemed to Jack that he was going to die right in the cabin of his loyal airbike. When he landed, Jack risked looking at his leg. The airbike was covered in blood, his pants leg was ripped open, and he could see where his flesh was torn. His wounded leg fell
numb, not obeying him.

  Absolutely powerless, Jack wanted to drift asleep inside the cabin, but the part of his mind that didn't give in to the weakness and pain insisted he reach the pavilion and use the big regenerator. The unconscious and lazy part of his mind waged war against the rational one. Jack nearly persuaded himself to just lie down in the cabin and sleep.

  However, he understood logically that such an action would lead to his inevitable death from blood loss. All the nanobots in Jack's body exerted their efforts to stitch his wound closed, but the damage was too demanding for even such advanced technology. Although the nanobots managed to stop the bleeding, Jack had still lost too much blood.

  His mind urged him to get a regenerator, protein, and water. Just as his eyes almost closed shut, he discerned the silhouette of some big creature through the glass. At first, he thought it was another terrifying predator with claws, but he eventually could make out that it was his friend, the wartstone Amigo. He was pawing at the forcefield, trying to peer into the cabin. Deactivating the forcefield, Jack fell from his airbike. The wartstone bent down and licked Jack's cold, wet forehead.

  The unexpected appearance of his friend seemed to give the lieutenant strength. Leaning on the wartstone with one arm, he made a fist and forced himself up on all fours. Accompanied by the wartstone, Jack was able to stand and limp to the pavilion's entrance, his wounded leg dragging behind him. The wartstone waited in front of the glass door for his friend with a sad expression. By the time everything was done, Lieutenant Sallenge could hardly remember reaching the regenerator, activating it, and pressing it to his wounded leg. The only thing he recollected about the last few days was eating and drinking everything he could get his hands on. After the encounter, Jack didn't go outside for five days.

  The pilertongue, the name he had chosen for the dangerous predator, had caused a great many troubles for the young officer. The regenerator managed to restore the main leg tissue, but white strips of new skin revealed the results of the unequal fight. Jack created the name after remembering the predatory claws that were snapped off by the airbike's forcefield. Carefully examining them from different angles, Lieutenant Sallenge saw they were tubular cavities, which were used to suck out the internal organs of victims. The inner surface of each claw was covered with sharp barbs. Due to their elastic structure, these barbs could extend or retract. This seemed to be how the predator would fatally trap its prey. Once the claws pierced the body, they would hook on and cause additional injury when the prey tried to escape.