The Arcadia Legacy (MOSAR Book 2)

by C. R. Turner

  Hawkins smiles and I wonder what they’re talking about.

  “The higher gravity will zap your strength the longer we’re there, so you’ll need to increase your calorie intake and drink lots of water. Because we’ll be operating in constant light, expect your body clock to be thrown out of sync after a day or two – maintaining focus will be a challenge. Oh, and don’t forget to pack your ponchos and several fresh pairs of socks … you’re going to get wet, people.”

  As soon as we’re dismissed, everyone scatters to prepare for tomorrow morning’s departure. I’m sure I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight.

  Sitting on Max’s back, I survey the land: not a living soul to be seen. The ground is charred and cratered, bodies and limbs are littered as far as the eye can see. Weapons lie discarded. Overhead is a monstrous sky, black, as though reflecting the morbid terrain, the air thick with the decay of corpses. In the darkness, I feel a chill. Burnt-out vehicles lie smouldering. Pocket fires burn, spewing ash, soot, fiery embers in the wind.

  As Max walks on, we see nothing but the same wretchedness. I pull on the reins as a red giant rises. The spherical furnace lies between the sky and earth like a beacon of hope on the horizon. I squint into the brightness – something’s wrong. The surface of the red giant is swarming with black torrents that slither across its surface, as if infected. Pain in my chest. The red giant’s brightness is suffocated by darkness as it morphs into a giant black ball. A gloom falls over the land. I clench my fist to my chest and wince; the pain is unbearable.

  The black giant cracks, red fissures beneath the surface break through. The once beacon of hope explodes, unleashing the ferocious fires within, wildly expanding. In mere seconds, the sky and earth far off on the horizon are annihilated. I hold my arm up to shield my face as it incinerates everything.

  I jolt awake, heart pounding. In the dawn light, I grab the rails of my bed to prop myself up, then swing my feet to the ground, and try to catch my breath. What was that?

  Sam’s alongside me in her own bed, still sound asleep. A few people are already up, quietly preparing for the mission. Max looks startled. I reach over and pat him before getting up. He follows.

  Outside, a Makri and Talon crew are loading a Firestorm into the starship. The age of the Firestorm is apparent against the more high-tech Makri starship and Kyt. Although it’s old, the Firestorm has been tested in the harshest conditions and has fought on many planets. I have mixed feelings knowing it will be on board. I hope we don’t need it. Max steps closer and lowers his head to mine. I lean into him, feel his warm silky-smooth fur against my forehead as I close my eyes and run my hand over his ear and down his neck. Max’s long deep breaths are like a window into his soul – he always makes me feel safe and at peace.

  Sam and I are finishing our breakfast when Bradley hurries over. “Stinson, Miller, you two should get changed into your greens. We’ll be embarking in half an hour.”

  “Yes, sir,” we reply before he marches off.

  When we make it back to our beds, I pull the green camouflage clothing from its clear plastic and unfold it. I’m pleasantly surprised to find my shirt has a MOSAR patch sewn onto the shoulders. The patch has two pointy chevrons – I presume the inspiration for the design is a Canine Maximus’ big ears. I run my fingers over the raised stitching and smile. That reminds me. I pull my MOSAR scarf out and pack it with the rest of my gear. Maybe it will bring us good luck.

  When Sam and I return from getting changed, Bradley hands us each two earpieces and a wrist device. “They’re called Core-links. You’ll find a button on all three pieces. Press and release to talk and it will transmit until you stop talking for ten seconds, or you can press it down for three seconds until you hear a beep, then it will transmit continuously. If you’re wearing additional hearing protection, just use the button on your wrist device. When you talk, the whole team will hear you. You can connect the transmission to the Kyt’s radio, but if you wish to do so, just ask Taylor and she’ll do it from hers.”

  Bradley grabs the two Ashras he has slung over his back and holds them out. Neither of us takes one.

  Bradley glances between us. “What? You didn’t think you’d be going off-world without an Ashra, did you?”

  I grimace as I reluctantly reach for one. “No, sir.” It’s a lie.

  “You can take additional weapons,” Bradley says. “Your bow and arrows, knives, but you’re required to carry an Ashra at all times when off-world.”

  Sam and I hurriedly fit our Core-links as Bradley waits. We do a quick comms check and rush to catch up with the rest of the team as they head toward the starship. I can’t believe how much my life has changed. We’re actually heading off-world. I recall seeing a starship explode and burnup on re-entry and have butterflies. I only hope all this change doesn’t bring about heartbreak.

  “Are you ok?” Sam asks.

  “Yeah … nervous. You?”

  “I feel like I’m about to puke.”

  We both crack a fleeting smile.

  The starship has got to be eight hundred feet long. With the Kyt and the Firestorm loaded in the rear cargo hold, there’s still ample space around them. There’s a strange smell – a mix of steel, plastic, oil and something else – I’m not sure what. Something this big isn’t supposed to fly.

  Sam’s grinning like a kid in a candy store.

  “Enjoying this much?” I ask.

  Sam simply replies with an even bigger grin. We walk past the Kyt and Firestorm, and Teenan shows us to the stables where we leave Max. As we enter the bridge, half a dozen Makri are preparing the ship for departure. The Makri level of technology is more advanced than anything I’ve seen. Everything is white, and there aren’t any traditional computer screens. Instead, all the user interfaces are holographic projections, which the crew are able to interact with. While the SF Raptor team stand around chatting, Sam and I walk up to the floor-to-ceiling forward windshields and look out over the ship and spaceport.

  “Where are we supposed to sit?” I ask Sam.

  Sam eyebrows snap together. “What do you mean?”

  “How are we supposed to hold on during flight?” I ask.

  “All starships have artificial gravity and inertial dampeners. You won’t feel any g-forces during flight.”

  Right on cue, the starship suddenly lifts off with little more than a faint ubiquitous hum. I can’t even feel that we’re moving. It’s the strangest sensation – as if we’re standing still and the whole of Terra Primus is revolving around us. We accelerate into the atmosphere at an unbelievable pace. The starship creates a monstrous bow wave, misting the air as it punches a hole in the sky. Blue sky rapidly turns black – like the fastest sunset I’ve ever seen. And just like that, we’re in space, stars shining with stunning clarity. Sam and I stand in awe. The chatting in the bridge goes silent; only the crew’s communications continue as they operate like a well-oiled machine. Holographic interfaces change from one screen to another as the crew enter commands. Sam and I join the rest of the team at the rear of the bridge. “You wouldn’t have been through the Bridgeport before?” Bradley asks.

  “No,” I reply, not even sure what that is.

  Bradley adds, “When you go—”

  I only hear the first couple of Bradley’s words. For some reason, his lips are moving but I can’t hear him. My heart begins to race, and I hear a slight ringing in my ears. Sam’s as panicked as me. The bridge darkens. I lean forward and rest my hands on my knees, feeling as if I’m about to faint. As the bridge goes completely black, I stand upright and look for the stars out the forward windshields. Nothing. What’s happening? Is this even real?

  Chapter 7

  Darkness. Heart thumping. Ringing in my ears. A pinpoint of white light gradually grows larger, brighter until my sight finally returns. Bradley is standing in front of me with his hand on my shoulder. His lips are moving, but again, I can’t hear him. Sam’s just as stunned. Hawkins is helping her find her feet. No one else seems to be a
ffected. What’s wrong with us?

  “Calm down. It’s alright,” I catch Bradley saying.

  The starship hums faintly and the crew’s technical chatter returns.

  “Are you ok?” Bradley asks.

  “Yeah, I think so. What was that?”

  “That’s the Bridgeport. Sorry … I should’ve given you a heads up earlier. I forgot you two have never been off-world before,” Bradley says with genuine concern.

  Embarrassed that everyone is looking at us, I try to shake it off, but I’m shocked again to see Hikaru half-filling the view of star-studded space. That was fast!

  The planet looks like a giant floating eye. It’s a peculiar sight. There are no oceans and not much in the way of lakes, although there are plenty of clouds over the jungle.

  I turn to Sam. “Are you ok?”

  “Yeah.” She swallows hard.

  I rub her back, wondering how Max is.

  Half an hour later, we’re all in the enormous cargo hold with the Kyt and Firestorm, ready to disembark. I’ve saddled Max, and Sam and I have our Ashras slung over our backs alongside our backpacks. Sam is carrying her bow and arrows, which seem completely out of place among the team’s weaponry – Hawkins has a massive projectile weapon slung over his back. That thing must be five feet long.

  “Is that the canon Bradley was referring to?” I ask.

  Hawkins looks down at me. “Yeah, it’s called a TA-60, short for tactical artillery sixty calibre rifle.” His voice reminds me of Max’s deepest growl. I’ve never seen anything like it before. “Where did you get it?”

  “I traded with a TPRA member – a bag of rice, some soap and razors.”

  Bradley presses his eyebrows hard together forming a vertical wrinkle between them. “I don’t want to hear that, Hawkins. Keep that kind of information to yourself.”

  Hawkins replies, straight-faced. “Pos, sir.”

  Hawkins then turns to me and pulls a face. We both grin.

  We’re standing around chatting when the massive rear door starts to open. Gusts in the cargo hold keep building until the door finishes opening a good minute later. The floor in front of the Kyt abruptly ends as it’s met with sky. That’s got to be a good ten thousand foot drop. Teenan opens a small panel on the Kyt, flicks a switch and the rear ramp opens. I quickly lead Max over, eager to put something between us and the vertigo-inducing view.

  We’re all strapped in, with Max lying on the floor in the centre, when Teenan powers the Kyt up. How the hell is this going to work? He’s not going to try to fly this thing out of here, is he? As the rotors spool up, Sam and I both grab the edge of our seats. The Kyt’s low-pitched droning in the cargo hold is incredible. With not a lot of room for error, Teenan skilfully flies the craft out of the rear of the starship. Clouds fly by as we descend on lush jungle that seems to go on forever.

  After a couple of minutes, the Kyt’s rapid descent slows, and I can feel the higher gravity pressing me into the seat. A river comes into view, it’s raging waters nosedive off a cliff face and turn into a violent waterfall. As we descend to just a few hundred feet, the waterfall towers above us, spraying the Kyt’s windshields with mist as it thunders into a lagoon at its base. Teenan touches down the Kyt on the black and grey pebbly shore, then shuts it down. The team is quiet.

  “Alright, people. Let’s go,” Bradley orders.

  The ramp hits the ground and we pour out. Half the team approach SF Mustang’s Kyt, just a couple of hundred feet away, their Ashras shouldered. The wild waterfall saturates the air. In less than a minute, Max’s fur is soaking wet.

  The surrounding jungle is primeval, the calls of strange animals faint behind the waterfall’s curtain of sound. I wonder what lies beyond the veils of mist and thick dark-green foliage. Sam and I share our concern. This feels like Arcadia: one wrong step and we’ll pay dearly.

  Taylor’s voice comes over the Core-link. “Sir, you better take a look at this.”

  Bradley and Hawkins sprint toward the Kyt. Emerson and Taylor exit and stand guard at the foot of the ramp. We run to investigate and find a trail of dried blood down the ramp. Inside, there’s blood everywhere. I drop my Ashra and backpack on the seats, expecting to give first aid, but then I see the body of one of SF Mustang’s team and am hit by the lingering smell of a decaying corpse. The body is face down and although it’s in post-decay, beneath the shredded pants, it appears both hamstrings have been torn from his legs. I gulp in fright and back up. Who would do such a thing? The walls of the Kyt are covered in blood, which has turned dark brown, almost black. There are bloody handprints everywhere. Sam is mortified and covers her mouth before running outside.

  “SF Raptor, alert-twelve. Dropa, Pisano, guard SF Raptor’s Kyt. Stay wired, people,” Bradley orders into his Core-link, his voice razor-sharp.

  Hawkins glares at Bradley, both of them silent. Their expression isn’t of fear, but something else – I guess an acknowledgment of the danger we're in. Teenan climbs into the pilot’s seat. Hawkins takes his rifle off his back, places it on the seats and kneels in front of the body.

  “It’s Alderson, sir,” Hawkins says, deep and sombre.

  Panels are open and wiring is hanging out in jumbled messes. I walk up to the cockpit, my stomach tight. The radio and computer screens have all been smashed. Sabotage!

  I call out, “Bradley.”

  Bradley and Hawkins enter the cockpit.

  “That’s no accident,” Hawkins says.

  Teenan glances up at me, then at Bradley. “I don’t think SF Mustang had any trouble piloting the Kyt. All this damage appears to have been done after a successful landing.”

  Hawkins studies the Kyt’s controls. “It’s in perfect touchdown configuration isn’t it, Tee?”

  Teenan nods. “Yeah.”

  Emerson and Taylor glance up at the body from outside, their faces stressed, Ashras still shouldered. I approach the body and squat alongside to examine what’s left. Bradley and Hawkins join me.

  “Are they bite marks?” Bradley asks.

  I shake my head. “No … His hamstrings have been ripped clean from his body. Even the tendons are missing.”

  “Does that look about three weeks to you?”

  I swallow, then nod, the lingering smell of the rotting corpse making my stomach churn. Struggling to my feet, the higher gravity pulls me to the floor as if I’m wearing a lead jacket. I grab my gear and head outside. I’m surprised to find Sam bent over at the edge of the shore, having just been sick. She’s such a competent hunter and can proficiently butcher large game, but I suppose butchering an animal is one thing; seeing a decaying human corpse another. It’s certainly not my first. I go to her and place my hand on her back. She stands upright and looks away.

  “Are you okay?”

  Sam nods as she stares into the jungle, a little embarrassed, I think. I give her a sympathetic face and leave her be, so she can gather herself.

  I stand between the two Kyts, face the lagoon and close my eyes, listening to the storming water. Mist settles on my face. Water droplets form and streak down my forehead and cheeks, as if I’m being cleansed by nature. Now soaked to the bone, my body is close to shivering in the coolness of the perpetual dusk. The mountainous jungles that surround us look punishing. We’ve only been here a short while, and I’m already tired from the higher gravity.

  Bradley and Hawkins exit SF Mustang’s Kyt.

  “Sir, why would someone sabotage the Kyt?” Hawkins asks.

  Bradley deadpans. “We’re not jumping to any conclusions, Hawkins.”

  Bradley calls the rest of the team together before instructing us to re-board our Kyt.

  “Are we leaving?” I ask Hawkins.

  “No … MRP.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Magnetic resonance pulse. It can detect metallic objects’ direction and range. The Kyt will shield us from the pulse.”

  We’re all standing in the rear of the Kyt with Teenan and Taylor in the cockpit as the ramp close
s.

  Dropa scrunches his face and covers his crotch. “I’s hopin’ to have kids someday.”

  “Just what the Union needs, mini Dropas,” Taylor replies with a smirk. “Sit down and shut up.”

  A loud thud hits the fuselage and Max startles, puffing his nostrils and rearing up, hitting his head on the roof. I pull on his reins to restrain him. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and there’s a slight ringing in my ears, as if I’ve been hit by an Ashra on stun.

  Taylor calls out, “Sir, we have a hit. Approximately sixty miles away. Right where the Makri said it was.”

  As we file out of the Kyt again, Emerson asks, “Is it the Equilibria?”

  “Can’t tell for sure, sir,” Taylor replies, “but the strength of the return is correct for a multi.”

  I ask Emerson, who is a specialist in starship structures, “Why do they call the Talon starship a multi?”

  “It’s a multi-configuration freight starship,” Emerson says. “It has movable bulkheads. The Equilibria was configured to ship the prisoners and food to Antarum, then return to Terra Primus with several thousand refugees.”

  Bradley sees Taylor carrying a body bag over to SF Mustang’s Kyt. “Emerson, give Taylor a hand … and pack some extra body bags with your gear. Something tells me we’re going to need them.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  Sam asks Pisano, “Are there many planets like Hikaru?”

  “No. Hikaru is quite rare.” Pisano pushes his glasses back on his nose. “Tidally locked planets that support life are typically found orbiting red dwarfs or main-sequence stars. If they’re locked to red giants, typically they only support microbial life. It’s rare to find planets like Hikaru with such a diverse ecosystem.”

  Taylor and Emerson join us after they carry Alderson’s body back to our Kyt.

  “What do you think, Stinson?” Bradley asks.

  Surprised Bradley wants to know my opinion, it takes me a second to think of a response. I shake my head, struggling to fathom what’s happened here. “Sir, I don’t know what to think. I can’t imagine what would’ve taken down a striker force soldier like that or the power it would take to pull a hamstring clean from a body. They were obviously unprepared for whatever—”