Exiting the HOD, Cameron’s right sock slid on something slimy. Peering down, he raised his foot and noticed strands of sticky mucus. Starting to feel some wetness around his toes, he made a disgusted face—his mind racing. He thought about the three warning messages he’d just read on the inside of the HOD, then recalled something XI had said that didn’t make sense at the time: XI will deliver Loth to Winforge … the intended internment planet. But he’d seen the Loth already leave the ship. He’d thought the droid was mistaken—was having technical issues.
“Holy shit, was there more than one of those creatures on board?!!” Cameron loudly exclaimed. Noticing the slathered remnants of one boot, his pulse rate nearly doubled. Somewhat shredded, only the boot’s rubber sole still existed. He picked up the other boot, and on examination it seemed to be fine. Glancing nervously around the compartment, he silently acknowledged that boot could have been me. Ramen has said there were two kinds of creatures, Griar Loths, the female, and Minal Loths, the more dangerous males. He tried not to think about it.
Cameron, tiptoeing over to the bathroom’s entrance, peeked inside. Empty. Feeling somewhat relieved, he inched across to the quarter’s open entranceway and peered up and down the corridor. Empty, too. “Primion, close this hatch!”
First things first—he had to pee. Then, after exiting the head, he removed both socks and asked aloud, “Primion … how do I get another pair of socks and a new boot?”
“There is a garment replicator unit within the quarters. You’ll find it within the aft bulkhead.”
Cameron, studying the aft bulkhead, noticed a crisscrossing pattern of vertical and horizontal seams—a cabinet or wall closet of some sort. One panel pulsated in a darker shade of gray. When he placed his open palm on the rectangular panel, it slid to one side, revealing a complicated-looking appliance. He was about to ask the ship’s AI for more help, when a projected display popped into view. Reading the instructions, he murmured, “Easy enough,” and placed the intact boot onto a smooth-topped surface called the holding pan.
A neutral-sounding voice said, “Please stand away from the replicator unit.”
A moment later, the same voice ordered, “Remove original garment article from atop the unit.”
Cameron glanced over his shoulder—his thoughts still focused on the creature that had entered his quarters while he slept. He was lucky to be alive.
As soon as he grabbed up the boot, another one, identical to it, appeared in its place. Excited, he grabbed it only to shake his head in frustration. “Primion, come on … I need a boot for the other foot. Who needs two right boots?”
Five seconds later, a new boot appeared. This one was, appropriately, for his left foot.
* * *
Wearing both new socks and his new left boot, Cameron headed for the closest jump stand. Still anxious, he mentally replayed his encounter with the Griar Loth the day before. How massive it was; how easily it killed Ramen. Checking over his shoulder, he picked up his pace. It didn’t make sense. No way could a beast as massive as that fit inside his quarters. If it had, it would have cracked open the HOD with him inside. No problem—crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside … ha ha … He stepped onto the jump stand and said, “Primion, Level 1.”
* * *
Cameron, already having checked where XI was currently located, paused halfway to the bridge; he slapped his forehead with his open palm. “Of course! Primion, can you give me the location of the other life form.”
“You do not have—”
Cutting in, he said, “Yeah … got it … I do not have the appropriate hierarchical clearance for that information.”
Minutes later, he entered the bridge and found XI lying on its side—rolling back and forth between two console seats. Kneeling down next to it and using both hands, Cameron did his best to steady the droid. Rolling it over so it faced upward, he asked, “Hey, XI … what happened to you?”
“X … 1 … malfunctioning … stability module …”
Cameron on examining the droid found new dents and scrapes all over its surface. It probably had been bouncing off the walls and deck for hours. Clearly, the droid was operating on borrowed time.
“You need to give me top-level hierarchical clearance now, XI. The ship’s AI … um … TAM … needs to be fully functional. I’ll be able to help you … Let me help.”
Cameron felt the bulky droid trying to levitate—fighting against his firm hold. “Malfunction … thirty-three micro-memory modules fractured … stability module … intermittent …”
“Look … I know there is another Loth onboard.”
“Minal Loth,” the droid corrected.”
“Fine, Minal Loth.” Cameron, feeling the droid settle down, added, “I’ll complete your mission. If we can get this ship repaired, back into space, I promise you … I’ll get that Loth … Minal Loth … creature to …” he tried to remember where, then blurted out, “to Winforge. Did you hear me? Hey!”
But XI remained quiet—unmoving—only stillness remained, where before the droid’s internal gyros could be felt vibrating inside. Cameron checked to see if any of its little lights were still blinking on and off. If XI was now defunct, deactivated, or whatever … he was truly screwed. Without its help getting a functioning TAM onboard, he knew he’d be stuck on this alien world the rest of his life.
Repeatedly, Cameron’s fists hammered down onto the inactive droid. “XI! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
Hearing the sound of something ungodly—a high-pitched, screeching, noise—Cameron jumped to his feet. Turning, he stared wide-eyed.
Chapter 21
Cameron stared down at the miniature Minal Loth below him. Standing upright, its six tentacle-like legs were in a constant state of movement, mucus dripping from its wide-open jaws. Oh yeah … Cameron thought. The creature, beyond all doubt, was contemplating on how it could best chomp down on one of his legs—or an arm, or his head. He recalled his boot, or what was left of it. Reluctant to take his eyes away from the beast, Cameron quickly scanned his surroundings, searching for any place to jump to. Better yet, a place where he could hide. Although he’d been safe, lying within his HOD, that wasn’t a viable option now.
The Loth skittered forward—wide jaws snapping open and closed repetitively—and made a lunge for his legs. Just in time, Cameron jumped onto an adjacent console. He then crossed over to the next: A cluster of four connected consoles—a tiny unsafe island. The small beast circled and lunged over and over again without seeming to tire. Cameron, on the other hand, was already huffing and puffing from maintaining constant movement. Terrified, he knew one of the incoming snapping bites would nab him eventually. The Loth’s teeth had come within an inch of his body twice.
I have to try something else. Feigning right, Cameron then jumped in the opposite direction, catching the Loth momentarily off-guard. With enough time to pull his leg back, he kicked out with everything he had and connected with the creature’s head. The toe of his boot collided with the Loth’s snout—a perfect, hard-hitting thwack! Its small yet oversized head ratcheted backward as the creature’s body went airborne. The perfect time to run, jump to safety, and find a place to hide—but Cameron wasn’t thinking logically at that particular moment. He was swept up in a tornado of emotions, but most of all he felt helpless anger. Anger at himself for picking up the frigid-looking alien man back in Larksburg Stand in the first place; anger that he’d driven his damn truck into the spaceship’s rear hold; and anger at the apparently now dead XI droid. And furious he was being attacked by this nightmarish mini-creature trying to eat him alive. Angry, not running for safety, he jumped to the deck and headed straight for the muddled, confused-looking, creature. He kicked it again—another solid headshot. The infant Minal Loth sailed even higher and farther than it did from his first kick—as far as the starboard bulkhead, striking it hard with a resounding thud.
While each individual leg continued to spasm and twitch, the creature’s body limply laid on its side. Came
ron, grabbing the nearest appendage firmly in his clenched fist, swung the creature high over his head then fast—brought it down—as if swinging a hammer. It hit the deck hard. Without hesitation, Cameron stomped down on the Loth with the heel of his boot for good measure. Out of breath, he stood back and assessed his handiwork. The creature was no longer moving, not a leg twitching. Staring at the Loth, he momentarily contemplated his actions. Should he be feeling something other than satisfaction—like guilt for killing a baby alien? Remembering what the little beast would soon turn into chased away any such thoughts from his mind.
Becoming aware of his surroundings again, he realized the bridge was no longer dimly lit. Dazzling illumination was taking place all around him. He could hear distant sounds of the ship literally coming alive. Glancing about the bridge, he was amazed—even taken aback—by the beauty of it all.
“Primion … what is … happening here?”
“Good morning, Cameron. Two things have taken place: The Primion’s full functionality has been restored ship-wide, and you were provided a high-level hierarchical clearance.”
Cameron looked over to XI. “Courtesy of the droid?”
“Yes, that was the droid’s final act prior to becoming completely disabled.”
“And you’re … back to …”
“Full operation. I am currently bringing all ship functions back online.”
Staring down at the Loth, Cameron asked, “Is this creature dead?”
“No. To kill either Griar or Minal Loth it has been suggested the removal of its head is best.”
“I think I’ve heard that before. Um … just getting it off the ship would suffice. Can you direct me to the closest exit? Open it up?”
Cameron heard the sound of a hatchway sliding open in the distance as the ship’s atlas popped into view on his right.
“Please follow the designated highlighted route to the closest ship airlock.”
Cameron eyed the glowing combination of passageways he’d need to take to arrive at the intended destination. It was relatively close by. About to reach for one of the creature’s legs, he retracted his hand fast. One leg was twitching, then another …
Chapter 22
As Cameron grabbed up one of the unconscious Loth’s legs, he had a moment to study the infant creature close-up. Grossed-out by the looks of the floppy, mucus-covered being that he now held at arm’s length, he suddenly felt more movement. It seemed to be coming around—even after receiving what he deemed was a merciless beating. As Cameron ran from the bridge, following the course TAM had provided him with, he considered slamming the baby alien down onto the deck a few more times as a precautionary measure. Instead, he quickened his pace. He made a right, then a left, then another right until he came to a wide-open hatchway. The creature, he noted with alarm, was definitely coming around.
Once Cameron entered what TAM referred to as the airlock, the hatch behind him swooshed closed. He now stood within an enclosed self-contained compartment, about ten feet long by eight feet wide. The inside bulkhead was lined with tall vertical compartments he could see into. Each was holding spacesuits or maybe environmental suits, he was really sure what, if any, the difference was.
“TAM! The Loth … it’s waking up! Hurry … Open the outside hatch!”
Although the Loth’s eyes remained shut, its struggling and wiggling had intensified in his grip; its mouth now snapped open and closed.
The spacecraft’s AI said, “There is an atmospheric differential between the outside environment and the interior airlock. Pressurization levels are still equalizing—”
“Just open the hatch! Its eyes just blinked, and it’s looking straight at me!”
The hatch to the outside world instantly opened, and bright sunlight poured into the compartment. Cameron flung the Minal Loth high into the air, far away from the ship, then wiped the last remnants of Loth goo off his hand and onto his pant leg. Standing before an unobstructed view of the alien landscape outside, he took it all in—mesmerized by both the beauty and stark difference from everything familiar back on Earth.
In spite of his ordeal with the XI droid—and with the young attacking Loth soon thereafter—in the present moment he felt nothing but exhilaration. Below the Primion’s forward portside hatch, nothing seemed to exist but a thousand or two thousand feet of open airspace. During the ship’s rough landing earlier—sliding then to a precarious stop—it appeared as though a portside section of the vessel now overhung a steep, rocky mountainside.
Directly across from where Cameron stood, rising upward from a deep valley, was another mountain—one, he surmised, nearly identical to the one the Primion crashed onto. He scanned the distant reddish-brown ridge, cascading steeply downward to a tree line about halfway down the slope. The trees could have been tall pines, even redwoods, if it weren’t for their weird aqua-blue color. Other stark differences to Earth were evident, too, like seeing three looming planets in the heavens. The nearest looked a little like Saturn, with its series of pinkish-white concentric rings.
Cameron continued to stand transfixed atop the ship’s overhanging perch. Fortunately, heights were never an issue for him. He was comforted, knowing that the infant Loth must have fallen far—far down the mountainside. It came naturally to him, mentally calculating the speed the Loth achieved during its free fall—sometimes referred to as a splat calculation. He was curious about whether the Loth would have reached terminal velocity by the time it hit bottom. There were a few numbers in that formula he’d have to fudge: like the strength of gravity on this alien world. To Cameron, it felt similar to that of Earth’s—so he’d keep and use that number. When the Loth began its fateful fall, its speed subsequently increased as gravity yanked it downward. How fast a thing fell, due to the tug of gravity, was determined by a certain number—known as the “acceleration due to gravity.” That number—9.81 meters per second squared on the surface of Earth—was probably close to the same number here, as well. Basically, it meant that in one second, any object’s downward velocity would increase by 9.81 meters per second due to gravity’s pull The maximum speed an object achieved during a fall on Earth was around 200 km per hour, or 125 MPH, because of wind resistance. The air here felt thinner, which meant the maximum speed would be even higher. At that speed, the Loth would definitely go splat! It would take some distance to reach that speed, though … Would it reach terminal velocity before it hit bottom? He figured it was about two thousand feet down, which was equivalent to six hundred-and-nine meters. A few quick mental calculations, and he figured it would take about thirteen seconds and need almost eight hundred meters to reach terminal velocity. That meant the Loth wasn’t quite going at terminal velocity if it had fallen even the full six hundred-and-nine meters. It would still be going very fast though. Hmm … unless it hit the side of the mountain first, then rolled the rest of the way down to the valley floor. If it lived through that—and that was a big if—Cameron guessed it would quickly find a plethora of things to eat below, other than the skinny human he’d been vanquished away from at the top of the mountain. Certainly there are all kinds of plants, tree life, accessible … but what about animals … meat? Had animals evolved here?
As if on cue, a large shadow fell over a large part of the spaceship. Cameron, shielding his eyes with one hand, scanned the sky. It wasn’t a bird, or some sort of prehistoric-looking Pterodactyl. Cameron started to doubt his eyes—because what it looked like was a serpent. Long and snake-like, it had multiple sets of wings—as clear and delicate-looking as cellophane. Although its body had to be thirty feet long, its head was small. Cameron, watching as the flying serpent glided farther down into the valley, realized that it wasn’t a present danger to him, although he wouldn’t stake his life on it. If ever the time arose, he’d certainly give the flying snakelike creature a wide berth, just in case.
Getting a firm hold onto the inside of the hatch opening, he leaned out the hatch as far as he felt it was safe to do so and studied the ship’s orien
tation on the mountainside. The spaceship looked intact, for the most part, but a significant portion of the vessel appeared to be imbedded into the side of the mountain. Several feet to his right, he noticed, were a number of inset ladder steps. Set into the side of the hull, they led upward to the top of the vessel. He momentarily debated whether, or not, to actually do what he was contemplating doing; then, stretching even further, he reached an arm out. The inset step was just out of reach—maybe by an inch, two at the most. Not venturing another glance down the sheer, several thousand-foot drop, he again ignored that part of his brain urging him to be cautious. From a relatively safe position, standing just within the open hatchway, he turned sideways and jumped. Catching onto the inset step with all ten fingers, he quickly jockeyed his feet up and down until they, too, found purchase on a lower step. That was really, really, stupid! What was I thinking?
Cameron then began climbing—ten, fifteen, twenty feet up. What felt like mild buffeting winds only several minutes earlier were possibly strong enough now to blow him right off the side of the ship. He had to lean closer into the hull and claw his fingers deep into the insets as he moved step-by-step higher. Daring to do this was really, really, stupid, he chided.
Cresting the top of the Primion, he stayed low for a moment—testing if he was going to be blown off his feet. Now, standing taller, from his new vantage point, and then jumping up and down a few times for extra height—the first thing he noticed was that the ship wasn’t perched on top of a mountain, but at the edge of a plateau. In the distance, over a nearby small ridge, were miles and miles of rolling bluish-green flatlands and aqua-blue hills in the far distance.
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