by Rod Little
“I'll start searching the gardens now,” Filla said and stood up. “I'll take a small team with me. Mitch, can you help?”
Mitch nodded. Still a man of few words, he wanted to fit in and was grateful for the task.
“Stu and I will help, too,” Shane said. “Bem, you get back to the communications desk and stay in contact with the Praihawk. Camila, take a small group to search the rest of the station for these... things. The garden might not be their only nesting ground. Check the cargo bays, too.”
“No problem. Should we alert the rest of the people on the station?”
“Not yet. We don't want a panic on our hands.”
“I can help!” Mark volunteered. Next to him, Dylan bobbed his head up and down emphatically.
“I know, and I need your help, guys. You two boys help search the station, especially the ducts. You're small enough to fit. But listen – just pretend you're... playing around. Don't tell anyone what you're looking for.”
“Right!” Both boys said with serious expressions. Finally, they had a real mission – not just fruit picking. Their sneakers pounded the floor and took them out of sight. Shane watched them go, and was reminded of himself and his little brother more than a decade ago.
“This whole mess might be nothing,” Stu whispered to Shane, as everyone else filtered out of the room. “So we've got a few bugs. Don't let it worry you too much.”
“I'm more worried about our crew that went into a black hole of space. This here is just to keep us busy while we wait.”
“I don't think it's a black hole, but I get it. I'm worried, too. Let's go shake down the garden gnomes.”
Chapter 9
The two giant ovals hovered above Earth's atmosphere, then entered slowly and pushed through the first layers of thick cumulus rain clouds. One ship headed east, while the other continued to descend here over New York State. It waited in the air, ready to land on Earth as soon as there was a signal of authorization from Lusus. The rebels still controlled the planet. Their landing approval was needed.
Each ship contained one thousand civilians. These were the first colonists; they would prepare Earth for the rest of Neptune's people. They would also be a test group, a trial to see how their minds and bodies reacted to the new planet and its vibrant surroundings: plants, oceans, wind, rain, hail and other elements.
Today was a rainy, cloudy day – a good day for a first look at Earth. The sunlight would be the hardest part of this new world for the Sayans to adjust to, and today carried very little sunlight.
“Why are they here?” Lusus fumed. “One ship is above us. Directly above us!”
Both ships had been instructed to land in England. London was still a mess, teeming with lizards, dead bodies and blood, but a small town in northern England had been cleared and cleaned for them. It would easily accommodate two thousand people.
However, only one ship had gone to those coordinates. The other ship was here in upstate New York, above Lusus and his headquarters. This was not the plan, and it infuriated the rebel commander.
Three small gliders left the oval ship and swooped down toward the military camp. It was President Loxtan Vahr and his entourage.
“I don't know why he's here,” Yota said, after his boss asked the question twice.
“That man insists on setting his own rules,” fumed Lusus. “Annoying to the last. Why the hell is he here?”
“He'll be on the ground in a moment, Sir. You can ask him when he arrives.”
Loxtan was no fool. He didn't want his people to be isolated on one island in one small part of the world. He would insist on two colonies, on either side of the ocean, and eventually one on each continent. He even wanted a colony on the North Pole. It would be tricky getting control of Earth from the rebel Lusus, but he had a plan to do just that.
The President and his delegation were ushered into a room with a table and chairs. Orange juice was brought in, and glasses were poured for each man. Loxtan nodded toward the rebel commander and sat across the table from him.
“Drink,” Lusus said with a fake smile. “This is one of the great luxuries on Earth. Fruit trees like you've never seen before, and they produce … this, among other juices.”
Loxtan sipped the juice to be polite. It tasted too sweet for him, but he pretended to enjoy it.
“I can't help wonder why you are here,” Lusus said, getting straight to the point. “Mr. President, we gave you the coordinates for the new town to be colonized east, across the ocean.”
“Yes, that's fine for one ship,” the President said. “But we want a second town here on this continent. For … testing purposes. To see how the people react to a different climate.” He paused. “It's a big place, I'm sure you can find a home for us here, too. After all, eventually, our people will be all over the planet. That was the plan, right?”
Lusus smiled back. “Right.”
Yota leaned in and whispered, “We have an isolated town to the north of us, in an area called Vermont. Very remote. We can control it pretty easily.”
Lusus sat back and gave it some thought. Perhaps a quick concession here would be good. Let Vahr think he was winning some ground. False confidence had always been the President's greatest weakness.
Let's feed that weakness.
“Very well,” he said. “We have a town not far from here. It can be ready in …”
“Two days,” Yota said.
“In two days. If your people can remain on your ship for that long, we'll arrange a landing soon. And your ship over the UK can land now. That town has been adapted to receive you.”
“Excellent!” President Vahr beamed. He raised his glass. “To reunification!”
Everyone toasted and drank, as thunder clapped overhead. Rain started to fall, and the President's delegation rushed to the windows to watch it. It was their first taste of Earth's weather. After centuries living below ground in a temperature-controlled environment, they found the chaos of real weather to be thrilling, even intoxicating. They were like children at Sea World, peering through the glass.
Lusus found the entire delegation to be bothersome. He fought the urge to shoot them right then and there. Instead, he excused himself and went to prepare the new armory. Peace was not his creed, it was just a stepping stone to his goals.
Chapter 10
George explained the four stages of the mission, again for the third time:
“The three of us will enter the ship. Dexter will stay behind to keep an eye on the sensors, and in case any other ships confront us. Stage one is entry, stage two is explore and detect, find the survivors. Stage three is extraction, and the last stage is boogie.”
“Boogie?” Dexter asked.
“Yep. We get the hell out of here as soon as we complete the rescue.”
“And don't forget samples. I want samples from every surface of that vessel.”
“Didn't Shane say: No samples. No studies?”
“Don't be absurd. You'll be over there, you might as well collection information. It won't interfere with your mission.”
George clicked his imaginary gun finger at the scientist. “Right. Space goo for Dex. We're on it. Put those little jars of yours in our packs.”
“Thank you. They are beakers and Petri dishes. And please be careful with them.”
“We'll be careful as a rabbit in a snake farm,” Sam said. “Don't worry. We'll get you a ton of space dust and alien germs to drool over.”
“Teak stays here on the ship,” Bohai added quickly, “until we can be sure of the atmosphere out there on the other ship.”
“And you'll wear specialized suits, similar to hazmat suits,” Dexter confirmed. “We have no clue what kind of microbes are incubating inside that vessel. The whole Nebula is swirling with nasty bacteria.”
“Got it.” Sam winked. “We'll wear spaceman suits and blaster rifles, and flame throwers, just like in that movie, the aliens movie.”
“No,” George corrected him firmly. “There are no
flame throwers on this mission, and only I will carry a blaster. These ancient Earthian rifles are powerful; they can blow a hole in the hull of any ship, if not aimed properly. I'll be the only man to carry one, got it? I don't want you snowflakes blowing us all into space at the first sign of a shadow.”
“So what do we get, water guns?” Sam asked.
“You each get a pistol and a knife. Those pistols can't pierce metal. But make sure you don't shoot me by mistake. It's hard to see through the protective masks.”
Sam held his hands up and rotated them. “You know I won't be able to use my spark if I have a spaceman suit on. The sparks will tear open the gloves in the suit. I'll be exposed.”
“The pistol will be fine. Remember to keep your eyes open and your brain focused,” George said. “And Dex will track the heat signatures on board.”
“That is a sound plan,” Dexter noted. He did not like being called Dex, but let it go for now. “I will direct you to the survivors.”
They fell into a small moment of quiet reflection, before George spoke again: “So let me ask you all something.” His tone was a bit more serious this time, not like him.
“What?”
“Is it worth it? This rescue mission to save a few people, is it worth the risk?”
“Yes,” Bohai said without hesitation. His shoulders were still heavy from the burden of Earth's loss. His eyes never quite shook that sadness he carried. It got worse after the bomb that took the DJ, Zack.
“You sound certain.” George said. “Wish I could be. I really do.”
“Let me tell you a story my Grandma once told me,” Bohai said, and leaned in. “On the beaches of Southeast Asia, after a terrible hurricane had passed, an old man and his grandson walked along the beach to check out the damage. There were thousands and thousands of starfish that had been swept onto the beach. They would all die if they couldn't get back in the ocean. So the old man bent down and picked up one starfish. He carried it to the ocean, wading in a few feet, and threw it back into the water so it could live. Then he went back and bent down to pick up another. His grandson said that it would be impossible to save them all, so what was the point. 'What does it matter?' the child asked. The old man held up a starfish and said, 'It matters to this one.' It matters.”
They reflected again in quietude, the soft hum of the ship's engines in the background – a long five seconds to absorb the story.
Finally, Sam said, “If I needed help, I'd want someone to come after me.”
“Yes, we got the gist of it,” Dexter said dispassionately. “But it still might not be worth it. If I die in space today, I'm okay with that. But are you? And we would be robbing Starbase 21 of its only operational battleship.”
George raised a hand in the air. “Whoa, ladies, let's not get ahead of ourselves. No one said anything about dying in space today. Let's all calm down. Can we talk about something more positive? And maybe be more positive?”
“You keep calling us ladies,” Dexter pointed out. “Is this some vernacular I do not understand. Is it like calling a ship 'she' or naming it after a woman?”
“It's called being an ass,” Sam explained. “He's trying to be funny. Just make sure you got our backs, George.”
The military man slapped a hand on his blaster rifle. “I always do, son. I always do.”
The Praihawk approached the Nebula, and its crew watched with eyes wide and glued to the monitors.
Sam's throat went dry. Now he knew why it was called the Nebula: a strange green-tinted fog covered a vast area of space. There seemed to be no stars inside, no light and no hope. It was a desolate display of lifelessness. He had no idea why it gave him that impression, but it did. The feeling was strong, a perception of darkness, of death.
Even Teak was agitated. He scuttled around the corners of the bridge, unable to get settled. Perhaps he could sense some danger the humans could not see.
His spidey sense is tingling, Sam joked to himself, hiding a grin.
“Hang on, guys,” Bohai said. He steered them directly into the Nebula.
The green clouds parted to let them in, like curtains drawing aside for a horror show, or entry into a haunted house.
Step right in, kids. You will be amazed.
“There will be no turbulence. No need to hang on,” Dexter corrected him. “We should not feel any change.”
The ship entered the Nebula, and Dexter was right; there was no bump or turbulence of any kind – no indication at all that they had crossed into the strange phenomenon. None, except the visuals on the screen. Now it looked as if they swam through pea soup. It gave them each a sickly feeling, like swimming through mud. However, the ship sailed forward as if nothing had changed; the fog had no effect on it. They maintained speed and course.
A flash of lightning lit the Nebula and changed its color to purple for a split second.
“Is lightning possible in space?” Bohai asked in a hushed tone.
“No,” was all Dexter said.
But it flashed again.
Dexter sent a data stream back to Starbase 21, and made sure the line was still connected. After a delay, they received a confirmation from Bem that the feed was still active and strong. That was a relief, as he had feared they might lose the signal inside the Nebula.
Anxiously the crew watched as they cruised for twenty minutes through the green clouds whose color shifted occasionally to yellow. A stream of orange color flowed in front of them and moved onward out of view. It was as if the clouds had a life of their own.
Bohai reduced the ship's speed.
“Up ahead,” he said. “There are blips on the screen. Some objects are in our way.” He reduced their speed again, and they crawled forward toward the unknown objects in their path.
On approach, the visuals on the screen became clear. They could now see the remnants of a hundred different spacecraft suspended dead in space directly ahead of them. A severed wing drifted next to a lone engine. The broken front half of another ship dangled above a jumble of angry debris, parts of metal of all colors: black, blue, green, copper and rust. Lots of rust. Something that resembled algae clung to the side of a large broken hull.
Space algae, Sam thought. Is that possible?
He would ask Dexter later, but for now no one spoke. They were in awe, and at the same time in a state of fear, almost dreading to look. The sight in front of them inspired nothing short of horror.
Sam fought to suppress a panic attack. He breathed through his nose.
“There it is,” Dexter whispered. “The Boneyards of Nebula. Remarkable. Truly remarkable.”
Remarkable was not the word Sam would have chosen.
Another piece of broken metal and its detached wires floated past. It was a ship's pulse cannon, covered in blood.
“Damn.” George said. It summed up everyone's conclusion perfectly, so they let that word hang there and be their combined appraisal.
This was the galaxy's graveyard. Every element of every ship told a story. Relics found here hailed from wars fought centuries ago. People died in the thousands, maybe even in the millions, and all that was left was this hodge-podge of metal. A hundred starships and their parts had migrated over the years to this spot. They swam now in a sea of green despair.
And ghosts.
The wretched spirits of the souls lost in those ancient battles; they swirled invisibly around the ships they had died on.
Who were they? Sam wanted to know. Who were the crews of these vessels.
“Time is a cheat,” Dexter said. His tone was uncharacteristically dark and poignant, even for him. It caused a chill in the ship's crew, but he continued, “It steals all life, but never erases death. Ten thousand years after the captains and mates died in combat, these monuments to their demise still remain. They will stay here in this anomaly forever. Time only takes the living.”
The lightning flashed again.
Sam wanted to say something, but the words would not come out. He swallowed hard and nerv
ously cracked his knuckles.
“The distress call,” Bohai said quietly. “It's coming from straight ahead. Inside that mess …”
Dexter inhaled deeply, examined the sensors once more, and then uttered the directive.
“Take us in.”
Chapter 11
The search of Starbase 21 revealed over a hundred pods hidden in the trees of two gardens. The other gardens appeared to be safely void of the odd pupae. No other pods seemed to be on the station in any other spots. Shane ordered the two gardens with pupae to be sealed shut for the time being. Guards were posted at each door.
“We've still no proof they are a threat,” Kelvin reminded the group. They were assembled for a new meeting in the lounge. This time everyone on the station had been invited. The time had come to tell everyone what was happening, and try to contain any panic before it started. “They've never caused any harm to me or to Bem.”
“This is just a precaution,” Shane announced, raising his voice so everyone could here. “I want to be clear that there is no danger and no need to worry. We just want everyone to keep your eyes open and tell someone if you see any of these pods, or any centipedes, outside the gardens. Tell me or Stu, or someone in charge.”
“It's not going to be a problem,” Camila reassured them in both English and Spanish.
As the group of Starbase residents separated and went back to their duties, they mumbled to each other and whispered their conjectures about what this might be all about. Fortunately, the general consensus was that this minor event was not a serious crisis – nothing to get overly alarmed about. Stu and Shane were relieved that no one appeared to be unduly agitated. No panic-fear.
“Crisis averted,” Shane said, happy for the moment. He took pride in his handling of the crisis.
“Crisis contained,” Stu corrected him. “Nothing has been averted yet, son.”