The Chara Talisman

by Alastair Mayer

  “Oh, I’m coming. I’ll lock the ship down and rig a proximity alarm to scare off any animals.” She turned to a different screen and checked a reading. “Tanks are full, I need to reel the hose in.”

  “Fair enough. Okay, let’s get the gear pulled together. The bad guys may show up in a few days, we need to make time.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Two hours later the trio were following the creek upstream through the notch in the hogback, keeping to the course Carson had plotted out and downloaded into their omnis.

  The rocks on either side of the notch showed heavy folding and layering. Millions of years ago this had been the bed of an ancient sea, building up layers of sediment. Carson wondered what sort of fossils might be found if they had time to look. If any at all—this planet might have been more recently terraformed. Then the sea had dried up or drained as tectonic forces had caused the continental rock to fold up, to buckle and crack, forming the mountains they were headed toward. Carson scanned the terrain with a practiced eye—he was no planetologist, but any good field archeologist knows some geology. The rock looked like limestone, weakened by folding. There might be caves or springs in the area. It reminded him of the eastern foothills of the Rocky Mountains back on Earth, in central Colorado; there might even be hot springs.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Behind the hogback, a long narrow valley stretched out in both directions, perpendicular to their path, parallel to the ridge and the foothills ahead. The valley floor was uneven, with rolling hummocks and odd rock outcrops, cut across by the stream bed. A few hundred yards away they could see a small herd of grazing creatures which from this distance resembled deer or antelope, although given the terrain they might have been more like mountain goat. The animals ignored them and continued munching on the grassy ground cover and occasional small bush. The trio ignored them and kept to their path.

  “What sort of predators do you suppose preys on those things?” asked Jackie as they hiked.

  The others looked at each other, then back at Jackie. “Probably some sort of cat analog, or maybe something canine like a wolf or coyote,” Carson said.

  “Dangerous to humans?” She saw Marten’s look and added “or timoans?”

  “It wouldn’t know what either was, so probably not—but don’t act like food. And feel free to make noise to encourage that impression.”

  Jackie started whistling, and as she did so, slid her pistol out of its holster. She thumbed the status button and confirmed that it was loaded, then tested the action. As she slipped it back into the holster, she heard the others working the actions of their sidearms, too.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  As the ground began to slope upwards, away from the rolling plain on the valley floor, the grassy vegetation gave way to scrubby bushes, then to a full fledged pine forest with deciduous trees mixed in. Most of the latter were small, spindly trees that looked something like aspen, but the leaves were more fan-shaped, like ginkgo leaves. They still followed the small creek bed upstream, and the burble of water tumbling over the rocks accompanied them. To Carson’s irritation, so did the occasional whine of insects. The air smelled of pine and damp earth.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  It was on the back slope of one of the foothills, Pyramid Mountain still ahead, when the saber tooth attacked.

  Carson was in the lead, Roberts following, with Marten bringing up the rear as they walked along the wooded trail. At intervals on either side of the trail, and from what they could see, back into the woods, large slab-like boulders littered the ground. Carson had said that they were the remnants of a harder stratum of rock that had collapsed like this as softer layers beneath eroded out from under. Marten had fallen back a little, and as he walked the path next to a boulder—this one higher than his head—the saber-civet pounced.

  There was no scream, the animal just leaped. Marten sensed motion and flinched, which was enough to throw off the animal’s timing, and the slash of the sharp, six-inch teeth—like steak knives—missed his neck. The animal was nearly Marten’s size, about a meter and a half long, with two saber-like teeth and claws far sharper than Marten’s. It screamed now in frustration and circled to leap again. Marten took a step back to give himself room and stumbled as he backed into another rock outcrop. He was cornered.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Carson kept up a steady pace on the trail. They were rounding a boulder when he felt a pinprick stab on the back of his neck. “Ouch!” He smacked at it and brought his hand around to see the squashed remains of a small insect and a smear of blood, his blood. “Damn it, Jackie, I thought you said there were no mosquitoes on this planet!”

  “There aren’t,” she said. She looked around. There were small dark flecks silently weaving in the air. She took Carson’s hand and examined the chitinous remains on it. “That’s a black fly.”

  “Lord. What stark raving lunatic would deliberately populate a planet with carnivorous insects?”

  “Well . . .”

  “No, that was a rhetorical question. Don’t tell me about whatever particular ecological niche they fill, I don’t want to know.” Carson shook his head, then muttered something about “accursed vampiric vermin.” He looked back along the trail, past Jackie. A hundred meters further back it curved around some boulders, and the trees on either side were sparse. Something, someone, was missing. “Where’s Marten?”

  Chapter 22: Sabertooth

  In the mountains, Chara III

  The carnivore jumped, again going for Marten’s neck, its claws reaching to grab and hold. Marten ducked under the leap, but felt a searing pain across his left shoulder as the animal’s claws slashed him. He twisted and repaid the beast by slashing his own claws across its belly. It yowled, but Marten knew he hadn’t hurt it much. He again tried to get space, to get time to draw his pistol. The animal wasn’t having any of it.

  It pounced again, lower this time, perhaps instinctively knowing that Marten’s torso wouldn’t move as fast as a limb or head. Marten anticipated the move, but there was nowhere for him to go. Where are the others? The civet-like beast’s jaws came toward him, mouth impossibly wide, saber teeth menacing. With the uncanny speed of Marten’s kind, and with no other option, Marten grabbed a fang in each hand. The pain startled him, the teeth had an edge as well as a point, but he hung on; his life depended on it.

  The civet was even more startled; this was a tactic it had never encountered. It was like its teeth were jammed in something. It pulled back, pushing forward with its clawed forepaws for leverage, snarling.

  Marten cried out as the claws raked his chest, but still he held on. Damn it, where are Hannibal and Jackie? He couldn’t hold this thing forever. He felt its hot breath on his face, it stank of old meat. “Hannibal! Jackie!” he shouted. His hands were bloody, his fingers on fire from the serrated back edge of the fangs, and his grip was slipping as the animal struggled.

  Suddenly the animal jerked violently, spasmodically. At the same time, Marten heard a gunshot. Another shot, two, and the great sabertooth hung limp. Marten raised a foot to its chest and kicked it away as he released his death grip on the fangs. “About time you showed up,” he said to the others, a dozen yards away with weapons drawn.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Roberts tended to Marten’s injuries while Carson kept watch, pistol drawn, in case the beast had a partner. “It doesn’t look too serious,” she said.

  “If you were on this side of my skin,” said Marten, “you wouldn’t be saying that. It hurts like hell.”

  “I’m sure it does. But luckily he only got his claws in where you have bone underneath, your shoulder blades and ribs. A little lower and we might be trying to figure out how to stuff your guts back in.” Roberts was cleaning those scratches as she said this.

  “Oh, charming. Thank you very much. Just what was that thing anyway? Those teeth! I felt like my fingers were going to be cut off.” He flexed his blood soaked hands. “Still feels like it.”

  Carson glanced at the animal�
�s body, then resumed his lookout. “Looks a bit like a saber tooth cat or tiger,” he said, “they evolved several times on Earth. Body is more like a civet than a cat, though, although they’re related.”

  “Let me finish these scratches then I’ll take care of your hands,” said Jackie as she pulled a packet of topical antibiotic out of her first aid kit. She paused, “maybe I better use yours,” she said, “I don’t know how you’ll react to this stuff.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s the same. We timoans are tolerant of most common human drugs.”

  She applied the antibiotic and bandaged the wounds. “How are the muscles? Some of those scratches were deep.”

  Marten took a few cautious deep breaths, carefully shrugged his shoulder, swung his arms, and winced. “It still hurts, but I will manage. Thank you.”

  “No problem. That was pretty amazing, grabbing its fangs like that. Why, how, did you do that?”

  “I didn’t have much choice, I didn’t have anywhere to go and there were these two great spear points coming at me. It was just reflex, I grabbed them so they wouldn’t come any nearer.”

  “Well. I’m just sorry we didn’t get it on recorder, nobody’s going to believe it.”

  “Maybe I should remove the fangs and hang them on a necklace?” Marten grinned.

  “Maybe on the way back,” Carson said, gathering up his pack. “Come on, let’s get going. I’d like to put distance between us and the cat, in case it had a mate.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  They pushed on for another hour. They were climbing again, Marten was holding his own despite his injuries, but was thankful when Jackie gave them an excuse to call a halt.

  “Hey guys,” Jackie’s breathing was labored. “Have we come far enough for today? My leg muscles are killing me. Too much zero gee time, I guess.”

  Carson thought for a moment. They hadn’t made as good time as he’d hoped because of the saber attack, but the sun—Chara—was getting low in the sky. It would be dark soon, especially here in the shadow of the mountains. They’d have to stop.

  “All right. It looks like a clearing ahead, maybe there’ll be enough breeze to discourage these damn black flies. We’ll set up camp there.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Hannibal pulled a small green cylinder from his backpack and placed it on the ground. It rather resembled a smoke grenade complete with a pull-ring, but lacking the handle. He looked around. The area was clear of rocks, twigs or sharp stones, it would do fine. He pulled the ring on the package and stepped back. He always got a kick out of watching this. The cylinder extruded a rod several feet tall and the collapsible tent began assembling itself, first opening like an umbrella then followed by a sequence of unfoldings and unrollings almost too quick to follow. Within a minute it had assembled itself into geodesic dome nearly three meters in diameter. “Tent’s up,” Carson called to the others, “you can stow your bags.”

  He looked over at Marten, who despite bandaged hands had gathered small pieces of deadwood and branches and dropped them down in a pile. “What’s that for?”

  “A campfire, of course.” Marten was surprised at the question.

  “We’ve got self-heating meals, you know, and the tent has a light.”

  “Sure, but it makes things cozier, and it will discourage animals.”

  “Fine, I’ve nothing against a fire, so long as we don’t burn down the forest.” It wasn’t really that dry, and the ground here was clear of leaf litter. “But just to be sure about the animals, I’ll set up a perimeter alarm.” Carson dug into his pack again and pulled out a small electronic device. It would sound if anything bigger than a tree rat came within fifty feet of the camp. The hope was that the noise would scare the animal off as well as alerting the campers.

  Jackie returned from a trip into the bushes, and they sat down to a quick dinner of food bars and instant hot chocolate, too tired to bother with even the simple self-heating meals. After cleanup, they all crawled into their sleepsacks and, worn out from the day’s exertions, fell quickly asleep.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Carson woke in the night to take care of a biological necessity and found Jackie sitting outside the tent, her back to the dying fire, looking at the sky.

  “Hey, what’s up, Jackie? Is everything all right?”

  “Oh, sure. Just a touch of insomnia. I came out to look at the stars.”

  Carson looked up. Chara III’s moons were both below the horizon, and the dark sky was filled with brilliant pinpoints. Toward the east there was a grouping that looked familiar. “Is that Orion?” he asked. “The belt looks wrong.” Most of the bright stars in the constellation Orion were far enough from T-space that the constellation looked much the same from Earth, Sawyer’s World, or Tau Ceti. But here the leftmost star in the belt was out of line, as if the sword were dragging that side of the belt down, and one of Orion’s shoulders, Bellatrix?, was dislocated.

  Jackie looked where Hannibal was pointing. “Yes, that’s Orion. He’s starting to look a little different out here.”

  “Yep. Can we see home from here?” They might be on the wrong side of the planet, or of the sun.

  Jackie grinned. “Whose?” She pointed at a bright star about halfway across the sky from Orion. “Okay, that’s Sirius, an easy landmark because it’s so bright. Follow a line of about four medium bright stars to the right, to the two that are close together,” she pointed, “the upper one is Sol. Up from that, about half the angular distance from Sirius at a right angle, that’s Tau Ceti.” She lowered her arm a few degrees. “Down from Sol about the same distance, that one is Alpha Centauri. Well, it’s two of course, but too far from here to see that without a telescope.” She gestured again. “Go right from there about half that distance, that medium star near a couple of others, that’s Epsilon Indi.”

  “You know your stars.”

  “I am a starship captain,” she said.

  Carson held up his hand at arm’s length. He could just about cover the rough triangle around Sol that their various home stars made. A long way from home, he thought. A movement overhead caught his eye, and he turned to look. A bright star moved steadily in a straight line from south to north. “Jackie,” his voice serious, “look there, is that what I think it is?”

  Jackie looked in the direction Carson was pointing and muttered a curse. “Crap. That’s way too bright for anything we left in orbit. I think we’re going to have company.”

  “How soon?”

  “Hard to say. It’s nighttime so they won’t pick out Sophie unless they’re looking hard, with active sensors. Even if they do I doubt they’ll try a landing in the dark. I wouldn’t, not in unknown territory. Best case they won’t be down until sometime tomorrow. Then they’ll have to figure out which way we went, if they follow. They might just wait for us to get back to the Sophie.”

  Carson weighed that. “Not much we can do about it now anyway. All right, we move out at first light.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Aboard the Hawk, they had indeed been looking hard, and had spotted the Sophie.

  “It’s in a clearing near the foothills of that mountain range,” the pilot said, pointing at a display. “The ship is mostly powered down so they may be away from it.”

  “Probably hiking into the mountains,” said Hopkins. “Okay, prepare to land. Set us down nearby.”

  “Now? It’s risky landing in unknown terrain at night.”

  “Yes, now. I don’t want to give them any more lead than they already have. It was good enough terrain for them to land, so can you. Switch on the windows’ light amp, that’s what it’s for.”

  “It’s not—” the pilot began, then broke off under Hopkins’ glare. “Very well.” He touched a control and announced to the ship, “Prepare for reentry and landing.”

  Chapter 23: To the Pyramid

  The mountains, Chara III

  Jackie awoke the next morning to a mountain obscured by fog or low lying cloud. A fine dew had settled over the camp. The outside
of the tent was wet, and everything felt clammy and more than a little cold.

  “Oh, lovely morning,” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm in much the way the tent dripped dew. She seemed to be in a sour mood, but Carson knew her well enough by now to recognize that as a symptom of coffee deficiency as much as anything else. He had already heated water for instant, and he handed her a cup as she sat up. Roberts took a sip and made a face. “Ugh, that’s vile stuff. Thank you.” She took another swallow. “It’s still an ugly day,” she said, but in a slightly more mellow voice.

  “I think it’s just morning mist,” said Carson. “It should burn off once Chara rises a little higher in the sky. I expect it will be clear enough by the time we’re ready to go again.” Carson was already starting to pack his gear. He had obviously been awake for a while.

  “You’re probably right.” Jackie crawled out of her sleep sack and looked around. “Where’s Marten? How’s he doing?”

  At that point Marten, who’d been taking care of business, came back into the tent. “Right here. I’m doing rather well. Shoulder and ribs still hurt like blazes if I move the wrong way, and my hands are a little tender, but I’m good to go. I heal quickly.”

  “Good, glad to hear it.” Jackie looked at Carson. “So what’s for breakfast?”

  “Well, let’s see. We have food bar, food bar, or, for variety, food bar.”

  “What, no ration bar? I’m disappointed. I guess I’ll have the food bar, then.”

  Carson tossed one to her. “Eat up, I’d like to be out of here soon. We’re wasting daylight, and company may be coming.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the tent was down, all the gear stowed, the fire doused and the ashes stirred, and they were breaking trail again. They could see blue sky through the thinning, patchy cloud.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  The vegetation had thinned out. At this altitude, the trees were scrubby little imitations of their brethren on the lower slopes. The ground was more lichen-covered broken rock than it was soil or pine needles, and the going was getting steeper.