by Chris Reher
“It’s a fine place if you don’t mind poison water and living under a tarp for fear of your roof caving in with the next shake, or running bowels from the miserable food.”
Azah grimaced.
The Nefer’s lift descended, bringing Nolan with it. He jumped from its platform and headed for the nearest of the strange creatures. “These are fantastic!” he enthused, ducking to inspect its underside. “How did you do this?”
The man named Crow turned to watch Nolan run his hand over one of those legs. “We call them stalkers. It took a bit of doing but mainly because we had to figure out how to hunt these beasts without breaking the parts we needed. That was a chore at first. But then it was just a matter of threading new works through their carapace. Tough as anything, they are. And the only way to get around here unless you want to waste a whole lot of ammunition. They don’t attack their own kind.”
Laryn had to smile. “You scooped out the locals to make vehicles?”
Crow pushed back a thick, dusty shock of pale hair. “About the only use for them. Can’t eat them and they’ll hunt you down for breakfast if you’re not careful.” He scratched his head, sounding solemn as he continued. “We lost some of our people before we learned that. The wilds are crawling with things you don’t want to turn your back on.”
“We noticed. They’re not sentient, I hope,” she said with a look to Ryle.
“Dumb as rocks, but wily. And quick.”
“These stalkers would be useful on Terrica,” Nolan said. “Lots of terrain there isn’t suitable for wheels.”
“If you like riding around in the guts of a giant scorpion-thing,” Azah said.
“Well, our choices are few,” Crow said. “And we cleaned them out good. Come down to the camp. We’ve waited a long time for this day. Some have given up hope.”
Ryle nodded. “We’ll gather what news we need to report back to Pendra so they can send a transport to collect you. We’re expecting an inbound fleet from Earth so it might be a few weeks before the Ministry can send a ship here. They’ll complicate things with quarantines and med checks and who knows what else.” He turned away to give his instructions to Jex to secure the ship.
Azah propped her hands on her hips as she studied the vehicles. “So how do you ride these things?”
“Not that hard,” Crow said. “Just like steering a runabout, except you have to lie flat to fit in the space. Just lay your hands on the panels and steer by pushing where you want to go. Let the legs think for themselves. We’ve added sensors to these joints, see?”
She nodded. “Using proximity scanners. Clever, although you must have cannibalized your inventory.”
“We’ve had to prioritize,” he conceded. “We’ve got a bunch of smaller ones to hunt the tunnel beasts. They’ll turn on you otherwise. Come, it’s not far down to the camp. Stay together on the path; we’ll make sure you walk in safety.”
The trek to the coast did not take long – or it seemed that way to Laryn, who did her best to record the terrain, feeding her findings back to Jex to include in her report until their connection to him once again faded away. They saw no birds here, but small, two-legged and hairless animals bounced across the path now and then. They resembled reptiles and she wondered if mammals had evolved on this planet at all. When they cleared the scatter of boulders at the foot of the hill, their guardians drew tighter when someone warned of danger ahead. A man walking ahead of her fired a quick succession of pulses from his gun into the trees. An instant later one of the many-legged worms crashed to the ground, hissing at them before it fled into a dense mat of tangled growth.
“They’re mean but they won’t chase you,” Crow, walking beside Laryn, said. “And they stink, and that stink’ll burn your eyes. You don’t want to be touching them, either.”
“I don’t think there is much chance of that,” she said. “Can you hunt any of the local animals for food?”
“Got to,” he said. “Not much else to eat here. We’ve got sort of lizards that are tasty, and shellfish that aren’t. But we’ve made do.” He half-turned to look back at Ryle. “How did you come upon us, Captain? Did our signal reach the right ears?”
Ryle glanced at Laryn before replying. “We took a chance,” he said cryptically. “Transmission of any kind seems to be a problem down here. We’re not getting much beyond a short distance, on most frequencies. What’s generating that much noise?”
“We’ve not found it. Some suspect solar interference, but we’ve not detected anything unusual. With what tools we have, anyway. We lost contact with the Harla up on the moon years ago. That’s when we first noticed that long range wasn’t working too well on this planet.” He turned away when another bout of coughing wracked his thin chest.
Laryn sought to change the subject away from their discovery on the moon but they had reached the barricade, making that unnecessary. Crow gestured for his crew to shift the bars that held a crude gate in place.
“This wall keeps those creatures out?” Azah said as they passed through the barricade.
“Aye,” Crow said. “They rely on their eyesight. If they can’t see you they don’t bother you. But if just one of them spies a tasty bit to eat, they call up everyone else to join in the hunt. Seems they don’t mind sharing.” He waved a hand toward wide ladders placed at intervals along the wall. A guard perched atop each one to peer through a slit over the hills, although at this point, all eyes were on the newcomers. “They can see us from the slopes but by the time they get here, they’ve forgotten what they wanted.” His laughter turned into a rasping cough. “Like I said, dumb as rocks.”
Others from the camp now surrounded the newcomers, smiling hopeful smiles and seeming to want to edge closer, as if to touch them. Perhaps they thought the crew, looking healthy and well-dressed among these unfortunates, was simply an illusion. They stepped aside as Crow led the way across an open space to where tents and makeshift huts clustered around the dismantled hulls of two Harla’s shuttles.
“There’s not much left of our boats,” Crow said, leading the way to one of the hulls. Pieces of external shielding had been stripped away, leaving the sub-skin infrastructure exposed to the weather and further looting. In several places the fuselage had been entirely opened as if to create windows for the vehicle where none had been before. “We use these now for things that need sheltering, and for the sick. The power packs will be depleted before too long although we’re using some wind power now. This rescue could not have come soon enough.”
Laryn halted near the door and looked out over the camp. Everyone’s eyes were on them and she looked back to see ragged clothing, unhealthy skin tones, a few children that seemed too thin and stared dully, half-hidden behind their adults. Along with the items from the ship’s stores, attempts had been made to build shelters using local materials, and she recognized the globular shapes of the interesting plant she had seen near their previous landing point. Here they were used for storage, like baskets, or as part of their huts. Among the huts stood what she assumed to be drying racks from which the survivors had strung things caught in the sea or around the camp.
“I’d like to get an idea of your state of health,” she said, indicating the people around them. “And a list of names to take back with us.”
“All of us are sick in some way,” Crow said. “And the little ones worse than most. We no longer try to multiply our numbers. Best that we all die out than create a generation doomed to misery.”
Laryn saw her shock over these words mirrored on Ryle’s face. Crow had spoken as if discussing the weather, but how did a community reach such a decision? Especially a community physically and mentally prepared to endure any hardship in their quest to find a new home. These were settlers, not privileged tourists on a jaunt through the filaments.
“Conditions are so horrific?” Azah asked, sounding subdued.
“They are. Humans aren’t meant to live here for long, that’s for certain. Not without proper shelter, immunization, food ha
ndling. We’re now using ashes to filter the water, and nothing at all to filter the air. Children are born doomed to cancers and… deficits. Seems we have more deaths than birthdays now.” The man’s voice broke over the last of his words and he turned away to open the shuttle door.
Ryle stood frowning over the camp. “Where is your captain? The mission leaders?”
“Long gone,” Crow said. “The captain was among the first to be taken. By the beasts out there, before we understood the peril. After we got the camp set up, we sent out expeditions. Some never returned, and then the creatures found us here. And there are even bigger ones further inland. At least here we have water and access to the sea, and the volcanos along this coast are mostly inactive. Nothing but ice and storms on the other side of the planet, whipped up by the winds and the water from here. And that way is desert that’ll boil your lungs if you tried to walk there. Believe me, this is as good as it gets.”
“You speak for these people, then?” Ryle said.
“I do. And I speak for all of us when I beg you to get us the hell off this rock. No more than that needs to be said.”
“We’ll get you home,” Laryn said. “We can take a few of the sickest with us. But it won’t be long before the Ministry sends a transport. I promise I’ll do all I can to make sure they hurry.”
Crow beckoned them to enter the shuttle. They did not go into the passenger section but instead he led them into the cockpit, now sectioned off only with a curtain. The space had been enlarged to the skin of the ship and a cot and some small furnishings had turned this into someone’s, perhaps Crow’s, living space. Some of the electronic systems along the forward bulkhead showed activity.
Only one of his silent companions, a tall, gaunt woman, joined them in here, but remained by the door.
“We ought to celebrate to welcome you,” she said, standing by the door as she gazed out over the camp. “Raise a glass and prepare a feast, and all that. Like we might have if you had found us in the new home intended for us. I’d not recommend you try any of what we have here. It’s kept us alive, but I can’t say more about it.”
Laryn put her hand on the woman’s thin arm. “I’ve seen Terrica. It’s a wonderful place. You’ll find the home you’re looking for, I promise. It won’t be long now.”
“We’re frail now, and have lost many whose skills are needed on such a world. We’ll not soon be allowed to settle there.”
She was right, Laryn thought. Each of the massive transports leaving for Terrica carried a precise complement of migrants, chosen for their skills and temperament. Craftspeople, farmers, hunters, medics, engineers and their families traveled with teachers, clerics and whatever else completed a self-sustaining community. Along with, of course, a massive database of information. Terrica was not cut off from the Hub, and communities were not completely isolated, but each group was able to survive most new world challenges. Transports like the Harla carried the tools they needed and the means to produce food and shelter. They even carried boats, portable surgeries, and power generators like the windmills above the camp. Although the inventory included many redundancies in case of failure, it would not suffice for a place like this, the planet Sola Crow had called Torren.
“But you’ll be safe,” Laryn said. “And you’ll be allowed to try again, when you’re stronger. You should celebrate. And you should prepare your people to leave this place. It will give them hope.”
The woman turned her sad eyes to Laryn. “Prepare? We are ready now. There is nothing to pack. Nothing we want to take with us.” She pinched her pale lips into a tight line before speaking again. “Except the ashes of those who died here.”
“The agent is right, Krina,” Sola Crow said, not unkindly. “We have cause to rejoice. Let’s inform the others it’s time to leave, although I’d say all of them have heard about our visitors by now.”
“Yes,” Laryn said, mostly to Ryle. “We’ll leave for the Hub as soon as we’ve compiled our report.”
“I’ll give you what data we’ve gathered,” Crow said. He busied himself with the console to start the download. “We’ve got quite a bit, actually.”
Ryle looked over his shoulder. “Did you also bring the Harla’s AI down here?”
“No, the shuttle systems are plenty,” Crow said.
Laryn stepped close to him and lowered her voice. “We found the Harla,” she said. “I’m sorry to tell you, but there is no one left alive up there.”
His hands paused their task. “Dead?” He took a deep breath and huffed it out again, thankfully without succumbing to another bout of coughing. He looked to Ryle as if for confirmation. Ryle nodded.
“We’ve wondered what happened to them,” the woman named Krina said. “The chief mate went up along with some others to get another load of supplies and the last of the power packs. They never returned. We thought perhaps they crashed.”
“They were killed,” Ryle said. He glanced to the shuttle door to see if anyone was near enough to hear them. “Murdered by... something. There was no accident up there.”
Crow turned to sit on the console with a tired grunt.
“This doesn’t surprise you,” Laryn guessed, reading the man’s face.
He shook his head, moving slowly. “No,” he said, “I… we… Some of us have suspected that… well, that we’re not alone here. I try to discourage that talk, but people gossip and their fear spreads to others. So we just defend ourselves against the creatures out there, no matter what they are.”
“Your chief mate was not among the bodies we found,” Laryn said, speaking softly. “And the AI is gone. We have to assume they’re together, if they’re still alive.”
Crow nodded. “Weren’t exactly geniuses, either of them. The captain should have stayed here, where she belonged, not exploring the wilds. Dreams of outboundering is what she had in her head.” He handed a data storage pack to Laryn. “Plenty of research on there. It kept us busy for a while. I’m afraid we lost interest over the years. What year is it, anyway?”
Ryle scowled, perhaps surprised by the man’s callous comments. “22-49.” He turned to Krina. “How long before you can get your sickest members ready to leave? We have room for six that need beds, air for thirty more if they don’t mind traveling in the cargo holds.”
“A few hours,” she said. “We’ll have some convincing to do. Everyone will want to leave at once. We’ll have three dozen ready to go.”
“Good. Get them sorted. We’ll be taking the ship up to survey the planet a little more, but we won’t leave without them.”
She gave him a smile that seemed to brighten the dull gray of her skin. “We’ll send an escort to take you back to your ship.”
Chapter Eleven
“You’re up early, Agent Ash.”
Laryn looked up from her search through the food cabinets of the Nefer’s galley when Ryle’s voice startled her from her thoughts.
“Still getting used to the Nefer’s timing,” she said, taking her drink to the scratched table. She wasn’t really hungry, but she probably needed the cup of the nutrient-packed liquid the processor had mixed up for her. She sank into a seat and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. It seemed cold in here. “And Toji is making noise, talking to himself. Said he doesn’t need to sleep for a few more days.”
He slid into the opposite bench. “I guess Azah and Nolie are still snoring.”
“He shouldn’t overdo it,” she said, sipping from her cup. It reminded her of banana-flavor. Not the flavor of bananas, but the sort of flavor that came about when someone tried to fake bananas, usually for something that had no business tasting like bananas. “That knock on the head he took is not trivial. I want to monitor him when we leave orbit.”
Before turning in for a few hours, the crew had made room for their new passengers aboard the Nefer, padding shelves in the cargo hold with blankets and setting up extra beds in their own cabins. The crew would make do with the chairs on the bridge for the few hours it would take
to traverse the Hub to get home. Bringing the castaways aboard meant having to submit the Nefer to a complete decontamination upon their arrival – a time consuming and expensive undertaking. Corlan Shelody would not be happy and Laryn hoped there was something among the data they were returning to the station worthy of his investment on this planet.
“It’s so strange,” she said, looking into her drink. “These people were lost here for years, such an incredible distance from the Hub, and yet, were only a few hours’ travel away. This whole time, all we needed to find them is to know when to drop out of the right filament.”
“It’s what gives meaning to the outbounder missions,” he said. “In the end, it’s all a matter of luck.”
She looked up. His eyes, too gentle to match the angular face, seemed to study her as if looking for something beyond this idle conversation. He had a way of doing that, never shifting his gaze from the subject of his interest, even when such frank contemplation seemed intrusive. She almost reached out to push a strand of hair out of his face before remembering that she didn’t know him well enough to do that. “Until some renegade with a treasure map points the way to a secret alien lair,” she said.
“Yeah, Iko knew what we’d find here.”
“Do you believe Toji? That he didn’t know what Iko was up to, I mean? What he told us about the Kalons?”
Ryle pursed his lips and thought about the question for a moment. “Yeah, I think I do. It seems to fit.”
“Fit what?”
“What I know about the Kalons. Not the pleasant ones that work with your research folks in the Annex, but the ones working with the Ophet project. It’s a rough bunch. Brawling in the lower holds is their preferred way to turn a little coin on the station. What Toji said about them being a whole other generation makes sense.”
“You knew more about the Br’ll than you let on, too,” she said, hoping to catch him off guard.
It worked. His eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, and a small twitch tugged at the corner of his mouth when she said that. He straightened out of his lazy slouch and leaned against the back of the bench. She expected him to fold his arms in defense, but he did not. “Why do you say that?”