by CJ Birch
“It’s okay, we’re clear.”
My crew steps around the workstation.
“Oh, wow. How long do you think he’s been dead?” Hartley asks.
“A hell of a long time.” Foer picks up one of the arms and lets it drop. Dust from his skin floats up into the stale air.
Everyone coughs and covers their mouth.
“Not necessarily. They constructed the pyramids in Egypt in such a way that aided in mummification. It’s possible this pyramid is similar,” Hartley says.
“The technology is incongruous though. Do you think whoever built this pyramid are the same species as this guy?” Foer asks.
“This pyramid is ancient. There’s little chance the monitors have anything to do with the original builders.”
“Why are they spying on the avians?”
A million more questions flit through my mind. How did this guy die? How long has he been here? Is anyone coming back for him? But even if we were to examine this chamber for days, we wouldn’t find the answers we’re looking for. There’s no way of knowing any of this. Even though the avians have tried to access it, they can’t. Perhaps the watcher was a scientist, observing a more primitive species.
It’s obvious that he’s not the same species as the avians. He doesn’t have a full beak and doesn’t look as tall, which means he could have evolved somewhere else. It’s hard to see what he would’ve looked like before he became a gray shrunken figure.
As my crew chatter around me, I realize the more profound implication of this find. There is not only intelligent life on this planet, but intelligent life in this solar system. And they’re capable of space travel. If they didn’t evolve here, they must have arrived by ship. Is the ship still here? Is it hidden somewhere? It’s unlikely he came alone. Where is the rest of his crew?
But none of this matters right now. We need to get out of here and back to the ship before the avians discover we’re gone.
“Captain, come take a look at this,” Foer calls me over. He and Mani are in one of the far corners, examining the wall with a leaf torch.
I step around the dead scientist to see what they’re looking at. They point to a series of carvings in the stone wall. There’s a whole mural of drawings. We step back to get the bigger picture of what it could represent. It’s covered in symbols. There are hundreds, thousands of tiny pictures. They’re grouped in four different quadrants. Most of it is gibberish. Without knowing what the symbols mean, there’s no way we can figure it out. Still, it’s pretty impressive. It gives insight into why this chamber was built. Not some lair to spy in secrecy.
“All right. It’s time to go. We need to get back to the ship.” As I say it, I realize it’s already too late. A warm glow spreads into the chamber, casting our shadows against the wall. I look over and see four avians standing in the doorway.
Chapter Twenty-two
Ash pushes me out of the way before I have a chance to react to the avians storming into the chamber. Their eyes are wide in what I’m guessing is astonishment. This must be a big moment for them, entering the inner sanctum of the pyramid. With only imagination to fuel the avians’ speculation, I can’t help but wonder what they thought they’d find. As their astonishment turns to anger, it’s clear that this is not what they were hoping for.
Were they expecting riches, weapons, or secrets of some kind? Instead they get a dead scientist and a wall of cryptic messages.
It was reckless to give in to our curiosity. It wasn’t our discovery and we should’ve left it alone. And instead of finding answers, I only have more questions. Will they understand what’s going on? I doubt it. And I don’t want to be here when this becomes even more confusing for them. I don’t want them to destroy it before they have a chance to understand what it means to them. Right now they’re not advanced enough to fully appreciate what this place is.
“We need to get them out of here. They’ll destroy it before they understand it,” I say.
Ash and the others nod, but even as we decide this, there’s no way the seven of us can take four of them. The numbers aren’t on our side.
The leader smashes his club into one of the walls, and a piece of history is forever gone. Before she could have even thought of the consequences, Ash wedges herself between the wall and his club. She spreads her arms wide, blocking any further destruction.
“No!” I yell. He swats at her, but she ducks out of the way. Before Ash has a chance to counter his next move, he hits her in the jaw with his other fist. When she’s doubled over, he rams the club into her stomach and she falls to her knees.
He sneers something at her. Ash pulls herself up, slow, as if she’s afraid she might crumble. As he’s about to swing the club again, a loud, piercing sound echoes through the chamber. The avians cover the small flaps on the sides of their heads. The leader takes another swing at Ash, but before he can follow through, he crumples to the ground.
Behind him, Sarka stands in the doorway, a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. There are four other crew members with him, all aiming weapons at the three avians still standing.
I kneel next to the leader, there’s a large burn mark from the blast on his back. His breathing comes in short bursts like he’s trying to catch his breath after a long run. I reach for his neck, looking for a pulse, but even if I could find one, I have no idea what it’s supposed to feel like.
It doesn’t take long. Within seconds, his breathing stops and his eyes become glassy and vacant.
“You didn’t have to kill him,” I say to Sarka.
“You’re welcome, Captain.” He offers me an impudent salute.
There’s no use talking to him when he’s like this. All gloating and full of himself. I guess I should be grateful he came back for us. It’s obvious he’s been back to the ship for reinforcements and weapons. The four crew with him are decked out in appropriate clothing for this weather and terrain. They have weapons, rations, and water. I look down at my own clothing, or lack thereof. I’m wearing dirt-encrusted boots, a skimpy tank top, and shorts that expose my bloody knees and mud covered legs and arms. Blood, dirt, and bruises cover more than half my body. I look as if I’ve been giving us a tour of all the mud pits in the region instead of trying to get us back to our ship.
“What should we do with these guys, Captain?” Hapta, one of my armed security asks. He steadies the gun, aimed at one of the smaller avians. There’s a quick fluttering of wings, but the avians remain silent and still. They’ve now learned what guns do. It shames me to think my people were the ones to teach them.
“Bring them outside. You two.” I point to Fossick and Foer. “Carry this one up and place him on the ground next to the others. Hartley, you and Ash figure out how to seal this pyramid back up. I don’t want them coming back in here until they can figure it out on their own.”
The night air is moist by the time we reach the surface. A coming dawn tinges the sky pink and there’s a sweetness to the wind I can’t place.
We leave the avians tied near the base of the pyramid and begin our journey back to the ship. With Sarka in front and me bringing up the rear, we make a ragged bunch.
I have to say, Sarka as a savior doesn’t sit right with me. He always has an agenda and I can’t figure out what it could be in this instance. There would be no reason for him to come back for us if he’d already made it to the ship. Unless he had a harder time taking it over than he thought. Perhaps this is him playing nice, showing the crew he can be a good guy. It’s a ploy, but one they may not be expecting. Either way, I’m happy he did. I don’t think I have any more fight in me.
This entire adventure has been more than enough to serve me for two lifetimes. All I want now is a hot shower and clean uniform. If I never encounter another living creature that wants to eat me, kill me, or steal my blood, I’ll be happy.
Ash falls back to walk beside me. “It’s kind of sad isn’t it?”
“What’s sad?”
“That it’s over. Even with a
ll the danger, it was exciting discovering a new species. I mean, this is proof that we aren’t alone in the universe. There is other intelligent life and we were the first humans to discover that.” Her face, though streaked with dirt and micro scratches, is lit from within. And when she says it like that, it does sound exciting.
It makes me wish I’d been on the same adventure as her. Instead I’m wracked with guilt over Yakovich and that avian Sarka killed. It wasn’t his fault we invaded his planet and broke into an ancient shrine. It still feels wrong that we used our technology against him in such a disastrous way. The implications of his death could be huge. For all we know, we could have started a chain reaction that will destroy his species. Jesus. I hope I’m not as arrogant as I sound.
One thing is for sure. We have not left his planet better than when we found it. Why must this be the enduring human trait? We are more than takers. We are destroyers. We’re like three-year-olds who’ve never learned to share. If we can’t have it, then we don’t want anyone else to either.
Ash interrupts my thoughts again. “I don’t know about you, but the first thing I’m doing when I get on board is taking a shower.”
And like that, an image of Ash, water sluicing over her naked body, invades my mind. I look at her and my stomach coils in a tight knot. Her eyes darken. It may be my imagination, or wishful thinking, but I could swear there’s invitation in those eyes. I turn away and take a long swig of water before my thoughts get too out of control.
“We could all use a shower,” I say.
“Not exactly what I had in mind.”
My stomach does a loop-the-loop like one of those old-fashioned airplanes.
The sun is up and we haven’t even reached the ship yet. Everyone’s panting, dirty, and sweaty. The only person in his element is Sarka who pulls back, stepping aside to let the others pass.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Nothing getting the hell off this planet won’t solve.”
He stops and puts a hand on my arm to hold me back. Ash walks a few paces then turns back and slows, waiting for us at a respectful distance.
He pulls a canister of water from his belt and takes a long gulping drink. “The most important thing to remember is to hydrate. You’ll die of thirst before anything else. Not to mention, it brings on heat stroke faster which can cause fevers and delirium.” He motions the canister to me, but I shake my head.
“I’m glad you’re safe, Jordan. I’m surprised I made it back to the ship before you did.”
“Why didn’t you come back sooner? You took off into the jungle and left us. For all you know, a giant moss monster could’ve eaten us.”
“You’re a big girl. And you had Ash with you. So I figured if there was anyone to worry about, it would be the jungle.” He takes another drink.
“Thanks. For coming back for us. I know it went against every instinct you have. But thanks.”
“I’m not always the monster everyone else makes me out to be.”
I don’t answer. Instead I examine the dirt at my boots and feet. I know he is a monster. That’s what makes this so hard. I know he’s done every bad thing people have said about him, and worse. He doesn’t do anything unless it helps him. I know rescuing us fits into his agenda somehow. I just haven’t figured out how yet.
“We better get back before people start to wonder where we are.”
He touches my arm again, looks over at Ash, and says, “I know you don’t want me talking about your mom—”
“Then don’t.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’ll say this. She would’ve been proud of you. You may not think I knew her. But I know she loved you more than anything in the world. She’d be proud of what you’ve become. Not a lot of people can survive in conditions like this. Believe me, I know. I’ve seen guys harder and tougher looking than you two who grew up in this stuff and still couldn’t hack it.”
When he offers me his canister this time, I take it. After a tentative sip, I take a few more, realizing how thirsty I am. It’s almost empty when I hand it back.
I motion for him to lead the way. He salutes, this time like less of an ass, and heads out to catch up with the others.
“What was that about?” Ash asks.
“I don’t know. He’s planting the seed for something. I’m not sure what yet. He used the whole ‘your mom would’ve been proud of you’ line.”
“Is it possible—and you know I’m the last one to defend him—but could his intentions be in the right place for once?”
“No. Let’s hurry up.” I don’t like how far behind we are. I can’t even see Foer, who was in the rear. Even Sarka is a good ten meters ahead of us. And the sooner I get out of this humid jungle air, the happier I’ll be. I never thought I’d miss the fake air of the ship, but I do. “Can I have some of your water?” I don’t know why I’m so thirsty.
“Sure.” Ash unclips her canister and hands it to me. She grabs my arm when my hand misses the canister. “Are you all right? You’re very flushed.”
The disorientation has worsened, along with my thirst. My knees buckle and I drop to the ground.
“Jordan.” Ash’s voice sounds far away and I struggle to keep her in focus. She’s kneeling next to me, pouring water on a piece of cloth and wiping my face and arms. It hurts, I try to push her away. I’m so tired right now. All I want to do is curl up and fall asleep.
“Jordan.” It’s a deep male voice this time. Sarka. He’s so loud his voice echoes through the jungle. He says my name again and it sounds deep and scratchy. That’s the last thing I remember.
Chapter Twenty-three
My heart pounds. So do my legs. The grunting behind us is only getting closer. I don’t even risk a quick look to see how much it’s gained on us. The image of this ugly snarling beast is already imprinted on my mind. I have no idea what the hell it is, but I know I don’t want it anywhere near me. It looks like a mix between a rhino and an alligator, all claws, teeth, and horns.
Up ahead, Ash stumbles and falls to a skidding halt a few feet from the edge of a ravine. With my momentum, I don’t have time to stop, and I trip over her. We tumble, head first, down the steep slope into the ravine. It takes several seconds to reach the bottom. When we do, I’m sure of two things. One, we’ve escaped death by impalement, and two, Ash does not make a good landing zone.
I turn my head toward the panting on my right. Ash closes her eyes and rests her hands on her heaving stomach. She’s alive. We’re alive. That’s something at least.
It’s been twelve hours since Sarka stranded us on this goddamned planet. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Not even during the explosion on the Posterus before I knew whether Ash was alive or dead. No, this is a different feeling. For the first time in my life, I’m not sure whether we’re going to be alive this time tomorrow.
It’s been twelve hours since I woke tied to a tree. Ash was a few feet away, ready to spit fire and murder.
Sarka drugged me. He played me. Again. When Ash bent to help me, Sarka smacked her over the head and tied us both to a tree. He must have told the crew that we’re dead. That’s the only reason I can see the crew leaving us here.
And they did leave us. When we finally got free of our binds and made it to the ship, it was gone. The giant indent of her hull was the only thing to prove the Persephone was ever there. And now it’s the two of us, stranded on this fucking planet.
We decided we should head in the opposite direction of the avian encampment. It meant we had to begin our travels on marshland, which turned to scrub, then desert. We may have saved our skin from burning by covering it with mud, but it didn’t keep the heat out. By the time we reached the jungle an hour ago, we had heat stroke.
Ash and I didn’t make it very far into the jungle before we encountered our welcoming committee. We’ve been running ever since.
“You okay?” Ash asks.
“I think so.” The shade offered by the canopy feels wonderful. “Do y
ou think this is how early humans lived? Always running for their lives?”
“They were better equipped than us. We’ve spent a total of forty-eight hours on a planet. We’ll get the hang of it.”
“Sooner rather than later, I hope.” We’re in a small grove of trees. They tower above us, the tops lost far above. The ground is mossy and soft, with only a few smooth stones acting as islands among the sea of green. In the background, I can hear buzzing, soft bird calls and a light wind shaking the leaves. And, almost too faint to catch at first, the trickle of water.
I sit up. “Ash, do you hear that?”
“My confidence breaking? Sure, I’ve been hearing it all morning.”
I snort. Make that two of us. “No, I hear water.”
Ash sits up too.
“It’s coming from that direction.” I point to a stand of bushes where the trees become thicker. I help Ash to her feet and we begin the search.
It only takes about five minutes before we’re standing next to a stream. It’s not very wide, or deep, but it doesn’t need to be. I’m on my hands and knees ready to scoop the first liquid I’ve had in twelve hours into my mouth when I notice Ash. She’s also on her knees. Instead of drinking, she’s stuck her hand into the water and is wiggling her fingers in the current.
“What? You don’t think it’s safe to drink?” I ask.
“So much water. Can you imagine what it would be like to take this for granted? For this feeling to be so mundane that you wouldn’t even appreciate it?”
Without responding, I search through our pack for water pills. After years of living on asteroids, drinking water from all over the galaxy, you come prepared. I pull out the canister and dump four pills into my palm, passing two to Ash. There’s no point in hydrating if we spend the entire night vomiting it back up. These pills, a staple of any Belter, will prepare you to ingest anything.