by Scott Rhine
“Gun it and hold it straight,” Risa ordered.
Yvette was airborne for two long seconds, narrowly missing rocks to one side and a vortex on the other. The angle of the plunge dragged her under to the bottom. Worse, she couldn’t see anything in the churning water, not even which direction was up. When she was finally able to surface, she whooped.
“Are you okay?” Toby demanded.
“Ah. That was fantastic,” she said, panting. “I might be wet through the zipper.”
“Stop it. You’re getting me excited,” he joked. His wife giggled at the innuendo. “Seriously, will you pull off and rest? At least let Risa steer for a while in the clear stretches.”
“She can do that?”
“For a couple hours once the satellite is in range.”
“You talked me into it.” Docking on the less traveled bank, she rigged the partially drained battery for charge and collapsed into a nap.
The battery-full chime woke her three hours later. “Hey. You let me miss the satellite.”
“We took lots of pictures. Now any of us can use the rover feed to steer the sled remotely,” Toby explained.
Risa talked Yvette through creating a seat strap and a safety harness so she could doze through the gentle parts of the river.
“But my suit will be out of juice soon.”
“It’s okay,” the engineer said. “We noticed this morning that in full darkness, the suit barely uses any charge at all, partly because the wetsuit and helmet blur your infrared signature already.”
“So I travel at night and recharge during the hottest part of the day?”
“Classic desert survival. At 190 klicks a day, we should get you there in a full three days.”
“Sounds good to me.”
****
Yvette only had one other heart-stopping moment on the trip to the village. Her armor’s proximity alarm went off during the morning of day three. The buzz woke her from her daze, and she struggled to turn off the whirring motor while she searched. Eventually, she pulled the harness tab out of the slot, and the safety killed the engine. She searched the area, asking her radio listeners, “Where’s the fur face?”
“He’s not on my aerial photo,” Oleander said over the radio. “Hold on.” Covering the microphone with her hand, she shouted for Toby.
“My suit spotters are having a hard time triangulating,” Yvette said with increasing panic.
“Could be diffraction from the water or multiple targets,” Oleander said, trying frantically to click on two computers simultaneously.
A very sleepy Toby mumbled, “Got to be a raft or she would’ve passed them by now. Slow her down for long enough and they’ll pull away.”
“I don’t want to be stuck behind those slowpokes,” Yvette complained.
“If you pass them now, they’ll float past you while you have your solar array deployed. The hand must not be seen. Drift for an hour, then recharge for four. By the time you catch up with them, they’ll probably be camped for the night. Then you can reach the village and crawl out of the water before any of the pandas are awake.”
She growled at the delay, but followed his suggestion—mainly because she had over 380 kilometers to go before she reached the lake of meteors. In the predawn dark, she hid the sled under some branches. By the docks, she stumbled across a stone hogan dominating the hillside. The structure hadn’t appeared on the satellite map. Again, the sloped roof was formed of bamboo covered by sod, rendering it invisible from above. The rounded corners would have caused the building to look like a dwarf castle if it weren’t for the lichen-covered rafts that leaned against every wall. Pandas seemed to be sleeping in huddles under the makeshift shelters. From this vantage point, the village was larger than anticipated, perhaps thirty or forty snoring adults. Since the building seemed important, she planted the obsidian-wrapped bug on top of the stone lintel and fled.
Toby filmed the entire operation. “They don’t use wood for house frames or even fences. You’d think they would at least put some of these homes on stilts in case of flooding.”
Yvette put a finger to her helmet in the hand sign for silence. Avoiding the rest of the village, she walked an hour to a tiny crevice high on the canyon side. First, she hung a tan tarp over the entrance and smeared it with local dust. Second, she activated the electronic guards: sensors and the subsonic do-not-disturb sign. Third, she pulled out the bedroll and hung her wetsuit to dry. Lastly, after eating a double ration of bars and emptying her water bottle, she collapsed into sleep.
****
When Yvette finally stirred ten hours later, Oleander asked, “Are you okay?”
“Just tired,” Yvette replied. The relative cool of the cave felt wonderful, but she was still sweating a little. “Sorry. I’ll download the bug results from yesterday.”
“Already did it remotely through the sled because the bug is so close to the river. The analysis and new vocabulary will have to wait for Lou, but we can check on this site any time we want to with just the sled. I might use this same technique with the Gray village in the hills using the rover. Planting static listening devices is expensive, but collection can be easy. You should get back here before the full flare, girl. I’m already picking up static.”
After a quick meal and the necessities, Yvette stuffed her leftovers back into the bottom of her bag. She still had almost three hours of darkness left. Toby sent a text message to her wrist unit that he was ready for phase two and pretending to be asleep. As soon as she gave the word, he could trigger his distraction.
“I’m going to head back to the river now,” Yvette said on the open channel.
While rolling up the tarp, she spotted a creature creeping over the sand, causing it to freeze in place. Filming with the UV gear, she transmitted the feed to base. It had pink, wrinkled skin and beady eyes, like a coyote crossed with one of those hairless cats.
Toby broke radio silence. “The closest Earth analog to your pink friend would probably be a sand puppy, also known as a naked mole rat.”
Sand puppy? This was a full-grown dog. “Aren’t they the ones that never get cancer?” Yvette recalled.
The pink creature’s pointy ears swiveled in her direction.
“Interesting,” Toby said. “Could it be an adaptation to the radiation? Do you think the desert animals crawl down into the cracks with us during surges?”
The saber-toothed bobcats would flee if a scout made a loud noise or threw cayenne pepper at its nose. Hoping to scare the animal away, she shook the dust off the tarp, and the sand dog only sneezed.
With the seriousness of a 9-1-1 operator, Toby said, “Distract it by throwing the tarp over its head, grab your pack, and run.”
“But—”
The sand dog wrinkled up its nose in a snarl, revealing chisel-like teeth. “He has a rope collar. This is his territory, and he can target you by sound or smell. Your only hope is to outrun him.”
Obeying, Yvette tossed the tarp over the sand dog, and the brute attacked. She was thankful that she’d already peed in a trench because seeing those incisors shred the fabric would have caused her to soil her armor. She jerked the pack onto her shoulder and ran.
A hundred meters later, Oleander shouted, “Incoming on thermals.”
Something smashed into her, and she rolled down the hill. How had it tracked her down so fast? No, this second sand dog had old scars puckering its side. The dogs were hunting in a pack! The new creature latched its jaws onto the base of her backpack and shook the container so hard it ripped. Outside her armor, the pack was still visible. Merde.
She kicked the sand dog hard, and it bounced off a rock, dazed.
“Cut its throat, and the others will feed on it,” Toby offered.
She didn’t want to hurt an animal, especially with an unfair advantage like invisibility.
Small items from her backpack fell out the rip in the bottom, so she turned it upside down. Shaking off the effects of her kick, the wrinkled monster sniffed at her
unfinished breakfast. Reaching into the hole, she also pulled out a wad of jerky and scattered it on the ground. The dog took the bait, and she fled. Live and let live.
Oleander barked directions for the easiest route back to the river while avoiding the village.
Thundering down the path, Yvette stuffed the backpack under the front of her shirt. As long as nothing crouched directly beneath her, she would pass unseen. The water rushed up to meet her as she fell off the riverbank. “Which way?” she asked her radio angels.
“Downstream, 120 meters,” Oleander said. “Stay underwater because I see heat signatures swarming.”
Toby said, “Please, come home. Forget about the extra sampling. You and the armor took a beating on that fall.”
“I can still make it,” Yvette whispered.
“I notified Herk when you were attacked. He’s on his way up to my lab now.”
She wanted to curse but didn’t dare let anyone on the shore hear. She floated unmoving until the sled’s hiding place appeared. Reunited with her vehicle, she typed a message to Toby on the wrist comp. “Send Cerberus to the lake instead.”
“That will leave you too unprotected,” Toby replied.
“Send it, or I go.”
“Roger.”
Swallowing the bile and resentment, Yvette launched into the current. “Back to Hades.” The return could take an L week.
Chapter 33 – Pit of Despair
When Yvette stopped for lunch and a recharge on a sandbar, she opened her backpack to check for damage. River water poured out. Her Taser was ruined, as was most of her food; however, her sleeping bag just needed to be dried in the strong breeze.
Talking to the air, she said, “Toby, I’m going to need help finding more food and a ranged weapon.”
Oleander answered, “I’ll help you use your hunting knife to carve a spear, but he’s out cold.”
“Why?”
“The whole time you were asleep, he was busy downloading all kinds of data onto your wrist unit. He was worried storms are going to interfere with satellite reception. It’s cute to see him fuss so much, like Dr. Frankenstein sewing together a teddy bear.”
“I’m still pissed at him for ordering me around,” Yvette complained, laying out her damp gear and attempting to patch the hole in her backpack with Superglue.
“If you’d stabbed the hound, you’d have enough food,” Oleander replied. “Say what you will, but psycho boy is on your side. How are you fixed for water?”
“I have my camel pack, thank God. If I had to boil all my water, the extra delay would make me crazy. Where’s the closest spear wood?”
“Behind you on the far side of the sandbar,” Oleander directed. While her friend worked, she chatted. “Toby’s maps will be your best bet to know what’s in season.”
“We’re spoiled by Sanctuary. Something ripe was always ready to fall into our laps.”
“At least you know what plants to avoid.”
Sawing the young tree off at the base with the back of her knife, Yvette said, “Yes, if my deranged husband had a picture of it on his wall, I don’t want to be anywhere near it.”
Oleander laughed. “You called him your husband.”
“I’ve taken his pomegranates long enough. He’s due the payment. I probably wouldn’t survive the trip back without him.”
“So that’s all it takes?”
With her blade, Yvette hacked the green branches off a trunk the size of a broom handle. She said nothing as she whittled the end into a point. When she was done, she strapped the weapon to the sled and repacked the dried belongings into the repaired carrying case.
Because the battery had a little time remaining, she swam over and took pictures of the dark berries on the opposite shore, checking them against Toby’s database. Finding nothing conclusive, she picked a sample baggy full and raised her helmet to give a sniff. The scent made her mouth water.
It was after dark when Toby rang onto the channel. “I checked the transcript,” he said cheerfully.
Oleander said, “Someone’s happy about the word husband. I’m going off duty so you lovebirds can chat.”
“Survival,” Yvette reminded him.
“Berries can be tricky. Avoid the white ones and use the arsenic test kit on others. The rover can fetch more food bars,” Toby offered.
“No. Stay on mission.” Over the wrist computer, she typed, “Shouldn’t the rover be to the lake area by now?”
On the screen, he replied, “Yes, but the shoreline is extensive. A complete density mapping will take time.”
Out loud, Yvette said, “You can help me live off the land.”
“Okay. In general, we can eat anything the pandas do as long as we cook it. Muscle meat is good, but pitch the organs because some of the poisons can collect there,” Toby lectured. He didn’t repeat the generic survival rules about testing small doses of food first. “Um . . . tomorrow is an eclipse. You won’t be able to recharge during umbra.”
“I have an extra battery.”
“Every time you take a risk, you twist a knife in my gut.”
“Shut up and pilot me while I take a nap.”
“Yes, dear.”
****
When heated on a tiny camp stove the first L night, the tart berries proved edible but not filling. An aurora borealis-like curtain of light wove through the sky. On the second night the lights were even brighter and seemed to move. By this neon guidance, she came upon an anchored raft filled with nuts, guarded by two sleeping sailors. On full stealth, she stole an entire bag of protein-rich treats. Even these, Toby made her roast because they’d been contaminated by river water. Of course by the end of night three, she was sick of them.
Finally, Toby informed her that the rover had located a deposit of odd minerals in the desert—zirconium and calcium.
Excited, Yvette wrote him back, “Shimmer ceramic. You’ve found the hand of the Magi.”
“Is it wrong to be turned on that you know the composition?”
“How big is the deposit?”
“A meter thick and twenty in every direction.”
“Like the shuttle bay,” she deduced. “We could build a fleet of invisible cars and boats with that. Check for signs of a crash.”
“Right now, I need to pay attention to the satellite feed and sled sensors to keep you safe. You’re not far from a bamboo farm.”
“That means food!” Yvette said with excitement.
“Too risky,” he ruled. “Fishing will take tools and time you don’t have, as well as expose you to traveling pandas.”
“Is this like Taming of the Shrew, where Petruchio won’t let Kate eat anything because it’s not good enough for her?”
“Once you pass the farm, we’ll forage. I promise.”
During evening number four, he let her pick between borer beetles and grubs. She chose the grubs because she was sick of crunchy. She roasted the larvae, closed her eyes, and envisioned crème brûlée. She drank a lot of tea to rinse the taste out of her mouth.
The next afternoon, she spotted green banana-ish fruit, but Toby convinced her not to risk diarrhea. Early in the morning of day six, another crop was visible from the sled. Yvette crept from the river and added small yams from a recent harvest site to her larder. She had to work hard to find food the pandas had missed. However, Toby would only let her eat one a day due to the high iron content. “Too much could be fatal,” he warned. “Even this much will probably tie up your intestines.”
The famine continued until Yvette was 90 percent of the way home. When she heard the waterfall in the distance, she started crying.
“Cheer up,” Oleander said. “You’re only sixty kilometers from home!”
“I couldn’t portage this sled downhill when I had energy. There’s no way I can do it uphill now,” Yvette said, sniffling wetly.
“Don’t make me come out there and slap you, girl,” Oleander threatened. “You will not go all hysterical and embarrass every female astronaut on this m
ission. Just pick your ass up and walk. You like hiking. You can be home in twelve hours. Rachael says you’ve earned a week of rest and relaxation. We’ll even meet you at the perimeter. That’s one less hour!”
“I feel like a zombie. There’s no way I can move that fast. Please, can’t you point me to some decent food?”
“No. You’ve nearly caught up to that party of Green harvesters. It’s too dangerous with that many natives.” Oleander mused over the data. “Mmm. A little beyond them, you’ll pass close to that trader fellow, Pacino. If you want to sneak close enough, you could download his latest language recordings.”
And steal a little snack, Yvette thought. “Yeah, talk me in. It should be cake.” Her mouth watered at the thought of dessert.
She followed Oleander’s directions for almost four hours. “You told me he was close.”
“Yeah, well if I told you the truth, all I would have heard was more whining. Do you see his fire yet?”
A gentle hint of smoke rose in the distance. Creeping through the underbrush, Yvette discovered the trader’s camp. Pacino was indeed napping in the crook of a tree, with a broad leaf over his face to block out any sun that filtered through the jungle canopy. A bamboo shovel and a stack of bobcat pelts lay on the ground beneath him. On an opposing branch, she saw a dead bird hung by its beak to tenderize. She remembered her uncle doing this for days for pheasant. Drool dripped onto the inside of her helmet. Drawing her knife, she crawled into the camp. From here, she could see that the pelts actually rested on top of a wooden carrying frame similar to a travois.
“That’s close enough,” Oleander said. “I’m pulling the data now.”
Yvette continued to approach the bird with every ounce of stealth Toby had taught her, downwind so the panda wouldn’t smell her. She was reaching for her dagger to cut the line on the bird’s ugly beak when she heard the creak. Suddenly, she lost her bearings. The horizon spun as she flailed at the branches that separated to swallow her. Darkness. Something slammed into her right leg hard, bending her foot farther than it was designed to flex. She screamed until she tumbled backward, and the second impact knocked the wind out of her. Yvette’s vision whited out momentarily.