I’ve been here five days. I’ve avoided my mission long enough. It was time I saw to it before it was too late and I got stuck here. The ship was scheduled to leave in two days. It was time to face my fears and seek out Adumie. I’d thought and fretted on it long enough. It was time to take action, but first, one cannot move mountains on an empty stomach.
I stuck my head into the kitchen hoping for something to munch on.
The kitchen was a mess. Boxes had been hastily pulled into the room. There were pots and pans, dishes and utensils scattered about the floor, tables, and shelves. What had they been doing all this time? I’d envisioned a well-ordered kitchen. They’d had days to set it up. The rest of us had organized the living and work areas. What had these guys been doing?
To my surprise, four tupilak hung on the kitchen walls, each as large as a bull. There was enough meat here to feed us for years.
The two doctors, Mathieu and Lesley, were dressed in scrubs for surgery with caps, masks, and gloves. Even their shoes were covered.
“What are you two doing here?” I asked the docs.
“We’re helping butcher meat,” Lesley said.
“Lots of meat,” Mathieu said.
He threw several fair-sized chunks of meat onto the table where Zhoa stood. With a cleaver in each hand, Zhoa expertly chopped the pieces of meat into thin slivers. I was amazed, first at his precision and secondly that Zhoa didn’t slice a finger off.
Vong pulled a pan of dried meat out of the oven, then returned to preparing breakfast.
The brothers were as different as night and day. Zhoa was tall, wiry, and well-read. He enjoyed feisty intellectual conversations with the scientists. Vong was of average height and a bit heftier. I’d not been to the shipboard martial arts tournaments, but according to rumor, under his loose-fitting shirt, Vong was solid muscle.
He was the kick-ass martial arts champion. Even the big guys couldn’t bring him down. It became the military’s goal to defeat him. No one did.
Pointing over his shoulder with a cleaver, Zhoa said, “I’ve got more tupilak in the smoker and in the freezer. Two have been cut up into steaks.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why all the meat?”
Sounding a bit frazzled, Zhoa answered, “The colonists keep bringing them.” He stopped chopping and pushed the meat slices to the side. He placed one cleaver down and wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, then clumsily reached for his cleaver. “Ouch!”
“You okay?” Vong asked. The brothers may have been different, but they were closer than most brothers I’d known. Vong was immediately at his big brother’s side examining his hand.
“Yeah, I just nicked my thumb.”
“Want me to look at that, Zhoa?” Lesley asked through his surgical mask.
“No, Lesley, I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve cut myself.”
Zhoa washed his hands. Vong sprayed a protective band aid over his brother’s thumb and palm.
I again asked, “What’s going on? Why all the meat? We can’t possibly eat all of this.”
“It seems we’re preparing for a long warm summer,” Mathieu said.
“I don’t get it,” I said.
Vong explained, “These people are gathering fish and tupilak in the same manner farmers used to gather their harvest for winter.”
“Like how farmers harvest in the fall and save everything they can for a long hard winter,” Zhoa said. “Well, summer is on its way and these people are preparing as if a famine is coming.”
“Doesn’t make sense, does it?” Lesley said.
“It must to them,” I said. “Did you ask them?”
“I tried,” Zhoa said. He returned to his table and carefully retrieved his cleaver. “All they said was summer is coming. Does that explain all this?” he said, waving his cleaver over the room.
“It doesn’t,” I said.
“No,” Vong agreed. “Not unless tupilak migrate to another part of the planet during the years of summer.”
“What are you going to do with all this meat?” I asked.
Zhoa pushed one chunk of meat to the side. “Dry it or smoke it.” He nodded to the room behind him and nodded at the industrial oven next to Vong. “So that’s what we’re doing.” He proceeded to slice the remaining pieces of meat on his table.
“Vong and I are afraid to go to sleep for fear they’ll bring meat and it’ll spoil before we get to it,” Zhoa said.
“Is that why Lesley and Mathieu are helping you?” I asked.
“Yes,” Zhoa said. A big grin spread across his face. “We recruited them. Being surgeons, they already knew how to handle knives. We figured they’d be the easiest to train.”
In unison, the doctors stood at attention, proudly lifted their large butcher knives, and saluted me.
“You two don’t exactly look like butchers,” I said. They were dressed like surgeons.
“They’re not!” Vong said. “Look how clean they are.”
The doctors were covered with spots of splattered and smeared blood. Their skin might be clean, but their clothing was not.
Zhoa had blood on his hands and forearms, as well as his apron.
Vong was the only one who was not a bloody mess.
“Hey, I don’t like blood,” Mathieu declared, seriously.
“You’re surgeons,” Zhoa reminded him.
“Doesn’t mean we have to like blood!” Lesley laughed.
“See what we have to put up with,” Vong said.
“As long as they get the job done,” I said, “don’t knock the help.”
Zhoa shook his head. “I just don’t know. Doesn’t seem right.” He winked at me.
“You four deserve each other.” I took a bite of jerky. “Mmm. Tasty.”
“Excellent!” Zhoa said.
“I have to go,” I said. “I was just looking for something to eat.”
Vong handed me a bowl with several slices of fruit that looked like nothing I’d ever seen before. The flavors were also different, but delicious. After I finished, he gave me several pieces of jerky to take with me. They too were good, but they were also freshly made. Eating dried meat for the next two years wasn’t an appealing thought.
As I headed for the door, Zhoa said, “Jess, think you could find out how many more of these tupilak we’ll be receiving?”
“I can try.” But I didn’t think I’d get any better answers than he had.
Chapter 23
Lieutenant Jessica Hewitt
Success Comes in Stages
I LEFT those four to their work and walked through the habitat, looking for a way to find Adumie. I took a path I hadn’t been on before. I was looking for a way to the main buildings. I could see them over the trees, but there didn’t seem to be a direct route to them.
I came to a massive entanglement of trees and vines. Was this another neglected area? I wondered.
Green leaves ranged from the size of my palm to the size of a man’s hand.
The thinnest vines were bright green while the medium vines were a deeper purple. The thickest vines were the size of small tree branches and were blood red. The veins on their largest leaves were also blood red.
Depending on their age, the vines were a multitude of colors and shades of green, red, and purple, which created an abstract painting like atmosphere.
There was a path around it, but my curiosity pulled me in. I’d never seen anything like it before.
My instincts told me these were private people. I shouldn’t be here. If I was caught, Adumie would not be happy, but he’d be just as unhappy with me if I walked around it.
I pushed leaves out of my way and stepped into a dark, warm, humid vined jungle. There was a strange muffled noise, so soft I thought I’d imagined it. I stood perfectly still and listened. For a long time, there was nothing. Then just as I was about to move on, I heard it again.
The sound came from my right, then from my left, as if it echoed off the leaves.
My inte
rest was stronger than my common sense. I didn’t plan to linger. One quick look and I’d be on my way.
Stepping off the path, I pushed through the undergrowth and followed the noise. Frequently, I stopped to listen. The sound seemed to move, but I didn’t hear the foliage rustle with the movement.
Was that a growl? It was too muffled to tell.
The noise was jumping around, to my right, now behind me. Who was stalking whom?
Was the creature dangerous? It didn’t sound big enough to be threatening.
Then the noise came from right next to me, just through a thick clump of vines. Gently, I moved the leaves to one side and peeked in.
To my surprise, I found a meter-high nest perched on the top of intertwined thick blood red stalks. Thinner vines were interwoven to make a basket a meter in diameter. The vines’ leaves covered the basket.
Next to the basket was an iron lamp stand made of long thin iron strands braided together. The top the strands opened up to loosely form a nest similar to the one made of the vines. In the iron nest was a softly glowing light.
The canopy of vines was too thick for Kahair’s light to shine through. The lamp was the only illumination.
The noise came from under the leaf covering. I pulled several large leaves back to get a better look and froze.
It wasn’t a basket, but a nest and resting in the nest was a cocoon. Not a tiny butterfly cocoon, but one large enough to hold a small dog.
The cocoon looked like moist cheesecloth. I couldn’t see what was inside, only moving shadows. The membrane didn’t fold in, but held its shape even when the creature inside pushed or kicked. What was inside?
I wasn’t about to tear open the membrane to see, even though I wanted to. That was one curiosity I’d have to resist. But I did want to touch it, just to see what it felt like. Just a touch, I wasn’t going to handle it or pick it up.
As I reached out, someone behind me screeched, “Nooooo!”
I tumbled over a thick vine growing along the ground and started to fall. Two sets of hands roughly clutched my arms and forcibly dragged me off. They didn’t take the time to gently push vines, leaves, or branches out of the way. They bulldozed me through, not caring what slapped me in the face.
They were too strong for me to struggle free so I went limp and ducked my head hoping to protect my face from scratches. Thin branches entangled my hair and pulled strands out as I shook my head free.
Clearly, I’d done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” I tried to explain. “I didn’t mean. . .”
One of the women began to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t touch anything. I was just curious.” That probably wasn’t the right thing to say. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”
When we reached the path, the crying woman could walk no further. Her steps faltered. She looked over her shoulder several times. Her face was etched with fear and worry.
“I have need for returning,” she said between sobs.
“I will see to this one. You go,” the other woman said.
What did that mean? What sort of disciplinary action was I in for?
Her iron grip on my arm tightened, and seemed strong enough to snap my arm. My fingers tingled for lack of blood flow.
“Please,” I grunted. “You’re hurting me.”
“I will hurt you more,” she snarled. “You have your own area. You have no right to impose where you are not wanted. Why do you not stay where you belong? I have told others.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” And I truly was, not just for her and her friend’s sake, but for mine as well.
“Why have you come? What are you wanting?”
“I was looking for Adumie.”
“Adumie is not found here.”
“Do you know where he is? I need to talk to him.”
She didn’t answer, but continued to drag me along the path, out of the vined area into the clearing. She snapped her fingers.
Five large, snarling dogs appeared from the overgrowth, their eyes fixed on me. Ominous yellow teeth leveled next to my unprotected stomach.
She left me with the dogs and moved to one side to watch.
My first thought was to stand my ground. But I was outnumbered. From the look in their eyes, they intended to have me for dinner. Saliva dripped from their jaws.
I did not run.
I did not challenge.
This was it. I was about to be torn to bits and eaten.
Sweat dripped down my spine.
A white dog, smaller than the five, with one red ear, leaped in front of me, snarling. Two more all white dogs joined him.
The woman cackled.
The dogs yelped and snarled, but didn’t attack. She didn’t encourage or stop them. She turned and walked back into the vines, leaving me alone with my fate.
I closed my eyes and braced for the inevitable.
Log of Father Joseph Striken
Second year, day 129
I think Faris is not doing well. I have tried to assist her when possible, but she takes on too much. She is encouraging to the others and rarely speaks a negative word, but when she is disturbed she’s short with people and seems to bark all her commands.
Harrie had a litter of puppies, all of which died. Faris will not speak of them. She speaks little these days. I doubt she has mentioned them in her log.
I think she longs for Earth and fears she will never return.
There has been so much disappointment. Many people have died since we first arrived. Many regret coming and longed for the next ship to arrive, but Earth seems to have forgotten about us. Some could not wait and would not be consoled. They took their lives. Then the strange virus attacked.
I fear Harrie’s puppies are the final straw. Faris may be headed into depression.
Now Harrie is acting strangely.
But I will start at the beginning.
Two months ago, Harrie the Spitz had seven puppies, which should have been impossible. Harrie was spayed before we left Earth and was genetically altered to live beyond the round trip to here and back to Earth. But more importantly, Harrie was the only dog on the planet; she didn’t have a male partner.
Harrie was pregnant for only a few weeks. The puppies came out wrapped in a membrane, which looked like cocoons. Harrie fretted over them.
Faris called Beasley and me to her room to help with the puppies. Beasley tore one of the membranes open, but the puppy immediately died. Not knowing what else to do, he suggested we leave the puppies alone and let Harrie care for them.
She licked each pup then turned it over and licked the other side. She did this repeatedly to each pup. Harrie didn’t eat, relieve herself, or sleep for two days. Each membrane shriveled and the puppies died.
We took them outside and buried them. Harrie watched. Once we finished, she went to the area where she relieves herself, then returned to Faris’ room to eat and sleep.
On next day, I saw Harrie sniffing the ground. I thought she had forgotten where her pups were buried and was looking for them, but when I tried to redirect her, she wasn’t interested.
Eventually, she found an area where some tiny vines were growing. She proceeded to scratch at the ground around them. She was loosening the soil to help the plants grow.
It made me wonder if she too was heading for depression. How does one minister to a dog? Faris thinks as leader, she must stand-alone. Harrie is Faris’ best friend. If something happens to the dog, what will happen to Faris?
Chapter 24
Rona Montgomery
The Project
FINALLY SOMETHING to settle the gnawing in the pit of Rona’s stomach. Thanks to Olivia and her trauma, breakfast was over two hours late. The floor wasn’t dry, but most of the water had been soaked up and everyone’s equipment was off the floor and stacked on the crate wall.
After breakfast, Olivia and her teammates would break the ruined aquaria down and build the new ones. This time, everyone would watch to make sur
e she built them against the wall out of the way. It seemed when everyone else was happy Olivia was even more sour.
“Coffee.” Rona sat at the table and immediately reached for the pot and poured herself a large cup. That first drink was like sunshine in her belly.
Supposedly there were enough coffee beans to last until the next transport arrived with supplies. Rona certainly hoped so. She couldn’t imagine a morning without it.
Gino sat at the next table. He leaned over to say something to Jorg who sat at his right.
Spago sat across from them and peeked around Gino. He appeared to be looking at Lu.
Rona tried to inconspicuously steal a glance at Lu sitting next to her.
Her cheeks were a little rosier than her natural blush.
Spago had difficulty concealing a flirty grin.
Rona was shocked. Was something going on between those two? And how long had it been going on? Lu had never said anything. She wanted to ask Lu about the juicy details, but not in front of Olivia. One critical comment could crush a budding relationship.
Gino straightened. He and Jorg were laughing about something. Spago disappeared from view.
Lu picked up her coffee cup and buried her face in it. Rona guessed her thoughts were off somewhere with Spago.
Rona took a sip of her coffee. “Ah, this is good.”
Like a rabbit hiding in the brush, Lu jumped as if startled. She almost looked at Rona, but quietly diverted her eyes. What was bothering her?
Rona reached for the spoon in what looked like roasted potatoes and dropped a serving onto her plate. They didn’t exactly taste like potatoes. Rona hadn’t decided what they tasted like, but she liked them, even if they were purplish.
Olivia sat across the table from Rona and Lu. She was whistling as if she were happy, something rare for her.
“You’re unusually chipper,” Rona said.
Lu took small delicate bites of her food.
“You mean, considering my mishap?” Olivia asked with a little chuckle.
“Now that you mention it, yes,” Rona said.
Olivia’s smile broadened. “Well, I guess it could have been worse.”
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