Octavia Gone

by Jack McDevitt

  I shook my head and sat down beside him. “See anything interesting?”

  “I suppose. I can tell you this is not a place where you’d want to build your getaway home.”

  “More critters?”

  “Yes. Some of the most lethal things I’ve ever seen.” He finished the coffee, put the cup on the tray, closed his eyes, and laid his head on the back of the seat.

  “I don’t guess we’ve picked up a signal?”

  “No. When we first listened to Jonathan talk about it, I thought maybe it had come from this world. That there’d been a civilization here somewhere and they’d just missed it.”

  “I assume you’ve given up on that idea?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So we’re ready to leave?”

  “Soon as I finish breakfast. Okay?” He adjusted the shade, blocking the sunlight, and helped himself to a batch of fried potatoes.

  • • •

  We were talking about nothing in particular when Belle did the electronic equivalent of clearing her throat, signaling that she had something to say. We both looked in the direction of the bridge, and I said, “Go ahead, Belle. What is it?”

  “There is something you should see.”

  We both expected another unsettling life-form. And that’s what we got. A couple of them. More tentacles extending out of the forest. And something in a river, of which we could make out only a pair of eyes rising above the water. “Not exactly a place to spend the weekend,” said Gabe, going back to his eggs.

  “No!” said Belle. “I wasn’t referring to the river.”

  There was a lander on the ground, or maybe a small interstellar. It was at the edge of the forest, almost in the river, partially concealed by trees and shrubbery. We were moving quickly past it. “Get a lock on it, Belle,” I said. “Don’t lose it.”

  Gabe was leaning forward, trying to get a better look. “It’s been there awhile. Are we going to be able to find it again?”

  “I have it,” said Belle.

  • • •

  We’d have to complete another orbit if we wanted to go down and take a look. Belle told us it would take forty minutes.

  “Do it,” said Gabe. “No way we can just ignore a downed ship.”

  We passed over storm clouds, a smoking volcano, something like an octopus emerging from the surf on an inland sea, and a flying dragon.

  “You sure you want to do this?” I said. “That is not friendly territory down there.”

  “Are you serious? Belle, is that vehicle one of ours? Could you tell?”

  “I could not manage a good view,” she said. “The hatch looked the right size to accommodate a human, but that doesn’t mean much.”

  “Gabe, that is scary territory.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I have a blaster. You think I’ve forgotten how all this works?” He was reading my reaction and smiling. “It’s all right. I’ve done this before. We can’t just walk away from it, Chase.”

  “Okay. If you insist.” I started back to the storage area.

  “Where you going?” he asked.

  “Pressure suits.”

  “We only need one. You stay with the Belle-Marie.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You can’t go down there alone.”

  “Chase, that’s the only way to handle this. There’s no need for both of us to go. And you’re right. It is dangerous down there. Which is why I want you to stay here.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Chase, do as I ask.”

  “Gabe, you’re not certified to operate the lander.”

  “Belle can take it.”

  “No, Gabe. Give me an argument on this and I won’t go near another of these missions.”

  He was glaring at me. “If something happens, what would I tell your mom?”

  I didn’t move.

  He took a deep breath, one that sucked all the air out of the cabin. “All right. If you have to have it that way. But you’ll be careful?”

  “Of course.”

  I don’t think I’d ever known him to get seriously upset with me before. Belle broke in: “Thirty minutes till we see it again.”

  • • •

  We locked the telescope on the vehicle and put it on the display. Belle increased magnification. It was a lander. We could see a comet image on the hull, and a designator, but it was too worn down to make out details. Gabe grunted. “It’s one of ours.” There might have been a six, and another smear that appeared to be a K. Trees and shrubs blocked our view. “Incredible,” he said. “This thing goes back a few years. It’s from Earth.”

  “How do you know? The comet?”

  “Yes. That was on all the Terran interstellars during the latter part of the third millennium. It’s the original design.”

  “You’re saying it’s eight or nine thousand years old?”

  “It could be. Probably not, though. I’d be surprised to see an early vehicle out this far. The standard assumption has always been that they didn’t get more than a hundred light-years from Earth during that era. But who knows?”

  I probably shouldn’t have said anything but I couldn’t resist. “Remind me to tell you about the Seeker.”

  Gabe smiled. “Chase, just because I was missing for a few years doesn’t mean I haven’t made any effort to catch up. I wasn’t saying nobody ever went deep. Just that people for a long time, for thousands of years, weren’t aware of some of the things that happened during the early times.” His frustration was fading. “At least,” he said, “we should be able to go home with something.”

  “I guess. It’d be nice if we had a way to lift it and actually take the thing back.”

  “Yeah, that would be good. But there should be some decent artifacts inside. It’s a pity it didn’t go down on one of these moons instead of in a jungle. It would be in much better condition. But thousands of years in this tangle . . .”

  “Terrible way to die,” I said.

  “Maybe not. In those days, vehicles didn’t travel alone. There should have been at least one more out here with them. So whoever was inside probably got clear.”

  “Anything like this in the histories? I mean, if they got out this far, there’d probably have been something on the record.”

  “It could be,” said Gabe. “There’s a world they called Farport where they had an accident. Nobody knows where Farport is. Maybe this was it. As best I recall, they got everybody off. And there’s no record anyone ever went back. At least the person writing the account didn’t think so.”

  “I like the name.”

  “So do I, Chase. It fits. But let’s not forget we don’t have a backup.”

  • • •

  We got more pictures and left it behind a second time. “Next time around,” said Gabe. When we were about twenty minutes out from launch, we went down into the cargo bay and took out the pressure suits. He looked seriously uncomfortable as I climbed into mine. We put two cutters and two blasters into the lander. When Belle announced that we had seven minutes left, we boarded the lander and began to depressurize the cargo bay. I checked to make sure we could keep radio contact with her. For several years, the lander had its own AI, which Alex had named for Gabe. But we’d finally caught up with the technology and got a communication package that allowed Belle to download software into the lander and provide a shadow version of herself to function in the vehicle. Gabe the AI is now operating in an orphanage in Basington, across the Melony. Last time we visited him, he seemed quite happy.

  Belle took the count to zero minus three minutes and opened the launch doors. We shut the gravity down and started the engines. The cradle took us outside and, as the thrusters started, gave us a push. And we were on our way.

  Belle had the vehicle on automatic. She’d take us in until we could see the wreckage, and then hand it over to me. Forest and mountains stretched in all directions as far as I could see. There was a river immediately below, and a lake to the north that was so large we could just barely
make out the opposite shore. The sky was full of birds, if that was the correct terminology for the reptilian critters that moved in clusters above the trees. I could feel Gabe’s excitement. This was potentially the discovery of a lifetime.

  We descended through scattered clouds until we were just above treetop level. The ground was also crowded with shrubs and giant bushes with gray pods and dazzling red flowers. “Captain,” said Belle, “it’s directly ahead, about two kilometers. Stay with the river.”

  “Okay, Belle. I’ve got it.”

  She released control. I took over and reduced velocity.

  Gabe leaned forward in his chair. “There it is.” The downed vehicle was partially visible within a cluster of trees. I continued to slow down until we were barely moving. The wreckage was partially submerged in the ground. A larger version of the comet stood out on the aft section of the hull. And something else that was hard to make out. A blue-and-white smear. “Might have been a flag,” said Gabe.

  “You recognize it?”

  “No.”

  The bushes surrounding the wreckage resembled broadleaf evergreens. Long vines hung down from the treetops. The wreckage had been virtually swallowed by the shrubbery. Fortunately it appeared to be out of reach of the river. “We’re lucky Belle spotted it at all,” said Gabe.

  “The atmosphere should be breathable,” Belle said, “though there’s a heavier mix of oxygen than at home. However there is a substance in the air that might act as an allergen. It would be best to stay with the suits.”

  We touched down in a narrow opening among the trees, about thirty meters away. Gabe released his belt, got up, and headed for the hatch. “Take your time,” I said. “You have your blaster?”

  “Of course.” He hated being treated like someone who hadn’t done anything like this before. But I couldn’t see the weapon anywhere. He had in fact left it on the seat behind him. He tried to pretend he was checking his helmet before picking it up. When he’d finished he slipped it into his belt. Then he reached into a pocket and showed me a cutter as well.

  We pulled on our air tanks, went into the air lock, depressurized, and opened the outer hatch. He got in front of me, determined to lead the way. But he stopped long enough to survey the area. “No surprises,” he said. I followed him outside. When we were satisfied nothing was stalking us, I closed up and we started into the tangled vegetation. The flowers were gorgeous. I wondered if they smelled as good as they looked.

  Moving forward was a challenge. We both got caught up in vines and lianas, which were clingy. Two giant shrubs dominated the space on either side of the vehicle. There was an unsettling aspect to them, maybe connected to multiple gray pods that had an almost flesh-like appearance. The vines were loaded with thorns.

  We stood for a couple of moments studying the wreckage. It had not crashed. Whatever had gone wrong had apparently happened after they were on the ground. The hull had taken on a rusted taint, and there wasn’t much doubt it had been there several thousand years. Finally Gabe walked over to the hatch. There was a presspad about halfway up on the right side. He reached out and touched it. Nothing happened. He pushed down harder. There was of course no way it was going to work if that thing had really been there for as long as we thought. And that’s exactly what we got.

  He pulled the cutter out of his belt. “I hate to do this,” he said, “but it’s all we have.”

  He turned the device on the hatch. It sizzled as the laser sliced through it. When he’d finished, he removed the presspad, but the door still showed no sign of opening. He stayed with it until he was able to remove the hatch. We pulled it out of the way, revealing the air lock. The inner hatch was also resistant, so we had to repeat the process. When he’d finished we broke it loose and looked past it into a shadowy interior. Then he climbed in, turned on a wrist light, and extended a hand for me.

  I’d half expected to find the remains of some of the occupants inside, but there was nothing. So maybe they had been rescued. I think we were both relieved to see no bones, but it hardly seemed to matter at that point.

  The vehicle was half again as large as our lander. But it had only five seats. Gabe wasted no time getting into the pilot’s seat. Numbers and letters on the gauges and dials were familiar. “It is one of ours,” Gabe said.

  We found the remnant of a flag inserted in the pocket behind the pilot’s seat. The colors had faded. They might originally have been green and gold. We didn’t recognize it. Gabe took a couple of pictures. “We’ll look it up when we get home.” He folded it and placed it in his pouch.

  A jacket lay in one of the seats. It felt like a piece of hard cardboard. There was a zipper, and a patch on the right breast depicting the comet we’d seen on the hull and three unfamiliar letters. “Alex would have been disappointed with this,” Gabe said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find something that survived reasonably intact.”

  I was still looking at the control panel. “I wonder if there’s any chance we could power up the AI? Talk about a gold mine.”

  Gabe waved it away. “Dream on, kid. It’s been here too long. The AI’s dead.”

  “I know. I’m just kidding.”

  He took a deep breath. “I have to admit I’d love talking to something eight thousand years old.”

  “Maybe—”

  “Forget it, Chase. It would be a waste of time.”

  The AI appeared to be in a black box with curved edges. The box was set inside a metal container.

  We checked the galley and the washroom, but of course neither contained anything of interest other than the remains of a completely withered magazine in a holder.

  There were two storage cabinets in the rear. We’d just opened one when Belle broke in: “We’ve got some activity here, guys. But don’t go outside to look.”

  I took the blaster out of my belt and tried to move Gabe away from the hatch, which was now just a large opening. But he wasn’t going to allow a woman to take the lead. “Wait,” I told him.

  A picture blinked on inside my helmet, sent by Belle. The shrubs surrounding us appeared to have come to life. Vines were moving, pods expanding and contracting almost as if they were breathing. “Uh-oh,” said Gabe. He had his back to me and was holding on to seats on either side and standing so I couldn’t even see past him. Finally he edged over. “Careful,” he said.

  Tendrils were creeping in through the air lock.

  “That doesn’t look good.”

  “We’d better get clear.” Gabe got his blaster out and looked down at the moving vegetation. He got within a step or two before one of them whipped around his right ankle and brought him down hard. He pulled the trigger and blew away most of what remained of the air lock. A cluster of vines and branches immediately began to crowd through. I put my own blaster back in my belt, grabbed the cutter, and tried to use it to free him. Belle was telling us both to stop, to get away from the open hatch. The vines were coming after us quicker than I could slice through them. A couple of them wrapped around my wrist and I lost the weapon.

  “Belle,” Gabe yelled, “hit it with something. Use your cutter.”

  Belle didn’t have a cutter. There were no weapons, of any kind, mounted on the lander.

  The vines dragged me forward, off my feet. I fell backward. Their grip tightened and they pulled both of us into a tangle of moving shrubbery. More of the stuff was coming through the opening. Vines closed on my throat and my right arm. Gabe had gotten hold of something and was resisting while I was dragged over him. They weren’t all pulling in the same direction. Some were trying to drag me directly forward across the deck and onto the ground outside the blown hatch. Others, hanging vines, were also trying to get me through the hatch, but they were coming in from the trees. The lower appendages released me and I was lifted toward the top of the air lock. My oxygen tanks banged against the overhead.

  Gabe was calling to me to look out, but I couldn’t see anything other than a sky full of vines and creepers. The vines were trying to get m
y shoulders through the area where the outer hatch had been. I heard Gabe’s cutter.

  And the light faded.

  XXI.

  Our old mother nature has pleasant and cheery tones enough for us when she comes in her dress of blue and gold over the eastern hilltops; but when she follows us upstairs to bed in her suit of black velvet and diamonds, every creak of her sandals and every whisper of her lips is full of mystery and fear.

  —OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, THE PROFESSOR AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE, VII, 1850 CE

  When I saw light again I was still airborne. But it was Gabe who had hold of me, not the vegetation. The lander was just off to the side, where it had set down and crushed some of the shrubbery. Gabe sounded desperate: “Chase, you okay? Speak to me. Say something.”

  “Yeah. I’m all right.” I inadvertently pushed him away in another effort to get rid of the vines that had been strangling me. But they were gone. Whatever was left was dead, just hanging from my arms and throat. He set me on the ground and I lay there sucking in air, terrified something was about to seize me again. I tried to get to my feet, but I was too shaky. Behind us, one of the shrubs looked crushed. It was dead on the ground, its appendages scattered in all directions, and most of them unmoving. A pod near its center had burst open and spilled something that might have been pus into the soil.

  The lander’s air lock opened.

  Gabe helped me get to my feet and half carried me inside. The hatch closed behind us. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” As far as I could tell, nothing was broken. He got me through the inner door and let me rest while he restored the air pressure. “Belle,” I said. “Get us off the ground.”

  I wasn’t sure she’d be able to. Vines and branches surrounded the lander. But we lifted off. Despite a couple of bumps, we continued up and I breathed easier when it became clear we’d broken free. Gabe got out of his suit. Then he helped me with mine. “What happened?” I asked. “What did you do?”