by Mars Dorian
“Straight out of TemCom and your crew’s already entangled in a space fight with the life form. Hardly good PR, by the way,” he said.
Lo-Skova was unimpressed.
The prime investors always spoke with attitude. Whether that was because of their nature or just a way to test her, she still didn’t know. But the media sensitivity training from the Lunar Biz School had prepared her for the worst conversations.
“Well, they’re dealing with unknown variables, so anything was possible at that point. But our new captain did a good job of handling the situation, wouldn’t you think?”
Dasai’s voice sharpened. “He’s a military guy; of course he’s good at coping with warfare challenges. Let’s hope he’s not going to interfere with the ground operation.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve selected a team with a very particular skill set. Not to mention the trustee on the crew that updates me without anyone else knowing about it.”
Dasai still looked bewildered, like he was stuck in the wrong virtual reality. “You mean that woman droid?”
Newtype, please. But Lo-Skova, despite her CEO title, wasn’t yet powerful enough to correct the prime investor. The command chain existed in corporate structures as well, but it was more subtle—or rather, obscure. “Yes and no. It’s always useful to have a backup in case the machine fails.”
“Don’t play too many games at once, Lo-Skova. It’s easy to lose sight, especially when your pawns are billions of kilometers away.”
“Intergalactic chess has no geographical restrictions.”
Not the best answer, but she wanted to have the last word on the issue. “Don’t worry; I’ve spent a fortune on the head-hunting algorithm. It’s not only innovative, but also highly effective.”
“I hope so. The company’s legacy is on the line.”
That happened the second the asteroid disaster occurred, but Lo-Skova also shut up about that. Dasai already waddled through the muddy space between being peeved and pissed—but then again, wasn’t he always?
“Is that all?” Lo-Skova said.
“For now. I’m staying tuned for the next update.”
The connection finally ended. Lo-Skova exhaled and snapped a new holo-wall scenario into existence. She chose the Himalayan setting again and pretended to breathe in the fresh air from atop the peak. The office scent dispenser almost fooled her senses.
Dasai Dent.
It was unfortunate that he was one of the biggest shareholders of Daystellar. Lo-Skova never liked him—the man was too pessimistic, paranoid and, pedantic.
The trinity of bad Ps.
She doubled the size of eQuip’s Tri-D video reports and flipped through them. She enjoyed seeing the ships, the fluorescent symbols, and the planet itself. She would send selective footage to the PR team and tell them to present the material in an appropriate manner as useful snippets for the upcoming marketing campaign and the colonial media.
So far, so fab. Lo-Skova grinned at her Himalayan walls and pretended to mount their peaks. Everything was going according to plan.…
33
Gravity was a bitch.
Rosco always knew it—even though he had never been on Earth, where the gravity pulled stronger than on any other planet in the colonized solar system. Well, up until he met the mysterious planet Grisaille, where the gravity was approximately 155% percent more demanding. Despite the formidable stabilization technology of the Vanguard, Rosco could feel the vibrations jiggling his pod-seat as he and his crew entered the lower levels of the foreign atmosphere.
eQuip’s constant update loop helped him keep clear. “Speed decreasing to five hundred and thirty-two kilometers an hour. Heat levels climbing rapidly on the forward bulkhead. Six hundred, forty-nine degrees and rising.”
The front of the ship looked like a fireball trailing down the gray sky. Someone should rename this vessel to DSS Meteor, the way it burned through the cloud levels. Rosco worried but made sure his voice wouldn’t show it. “Lo-Skova promised me this ship could withstand suborbital entrees.”
“In theory, sir,” eQuip said. “Using reverse thrusters and air brakes to stabilize the descent.”
Whoosh.
Another cloud layer pierced.
The grayish-white volcanic land of the unknown planet showed up on the big screen. A vast landscape with a few canyon-like constructions, and plains so wide they wanted to break the horizon. Bland, but also beautiful in its sheer vastness. It felt almost as exciting as his first ICED mission back in the Moon territory when tensions between the natural satellite and ancient Earth threatened to escalate. Despite the increased blood pressure and heart beat, Rosco experienced the rush of feeling truly alive.
In that moment, he was born again.
eQuip decreased the ship’s speed to a point where she could hover it over the alien ground. “Main thrust curbed. Sub-thrusters activated.”
Rosco recognized a canyon-like formation a few hundred meters away from their landing spot, which sparked an idea. “eQuip, does this vessel contain any stealth-capabilities?”
“Unfortunately not, sir.”
“Then find us a landing spot in that canyon over there. We don’t want to look like a beacon in the flatlands.”
Who knew? The alien life form may have already located their position. That’s why it was especially important to land where nature provided organic defenses in the form of boulders and canyon walls. eQuip mind-steered the ship over the flat ground as it targeted the structures.
“I’m psyched,” Ming said, “it looks similar and yet different than our known rock formations. Look at that intricate surface pattern.”
Rosco saw it too.
A pattern edged into the surface like cybernetic art. It looked fairly random, so maybe it was a product of nature.
“I have found a suitable location to land, sir,” eQuip said. “Commencing landing sequence now.”
“Good,” Yeltzin said to Rosco’s left, “I can’t wait to touch ground again.”
For Rosco, it was the opposite.
Although he went through Basic and knew the foundations of infantry warfare, his place was in space. Touching ground here meant treading on foreign soil—literally.
eQuip taxied the ship on a little rugged field inside the canyon formation. The rocks acted like natural shields, hiding the science vessel from curious eyes. Only observers from the sky could detect them—a risk they unfortunately had to take.
Rosco said, “make a mental note for Lo-Skova—add stealth capabilities.”
“Done, sir.”
The Vanguard came to a complete standstill. A last vibration jolted through the seats as the ship’s stabilizers touched ground. Rosco unstrapped himself from the pod-seat and ordered his crew to do the same. In a matter of seconds, they stood side-by-side and observed the main screen that recorded the surrounding environment.
“We will take the light reconnaissance vehicle to the coordinates the probes sent us earlier.”
He addressed each member.
“Ekström, I want you to prep our equipment and techtoos for this planet’s environment. Since eQuip’s connected to the ship’s sensors, she can give you any info regarding the atmospheric and gravity-based challenges.”
Ekström nodded.
Rosco wasn’t satisfied. “Say ‘I understand, sir’, if you comprehended my order.”
The engineer simply bowed and rushed away from the bridge, aiming straight into his lab section. Yeltzin added his thoughts. “He may be socially inept, sir, but his technological skills are transcendental. He even fixed my comlink in less than an hour before our launch.”
“Maybe he should have opened a repair shop instead. Let’s hope he understood my orders.”
“Oh, he did,” Ming now said, “his mind is trapped in multiple layers of thought dimensions, which makes him look like he’s suffering from ADHD. I can assure you he has processed your command.”
“You seem to know a lot about him, Doctor.”
; She tilted her head and balanced her weight to the right foot. “I’m also a decryptor, sir. I’ve dealt with various human races with multiple psychological conditions. What you see on the outside and what actually happens inside their minds is often worlds apart, no pun intended.”
Rosco channeled his attention back to the Newtype in the ship’s central terminal. “eQuip, what’s the outside temperature?”
“Thirty-nine degrees at thirty-five percent humidity, sir.”
Almost tropical, which was a condition exclusive to Earth. Exoplanets normally ranged between extremes—they were either way too cold or hellish hot. Given this similarity to Earth, would the alien share human traits as well? Rosco and his crew were soon going to find out.
“What’s your plan of action now, sir?” said former Stryker soldier, Yeltzin, back in his element.
Rosco went full leader mode. “It’s best to learn more about our environment before we tread outside. Besides, Ekström needs more time to prepare our gear, so we have some time to prepare.”
To eQuip, he said, “how many recon droids do we have on board?”
“Three, sir.”
“Program them to cover the LRV route to our target zone. I want to know this path inside out before we roll over it tomorrow.”
eQuip welcomed his suggestion with sharpened lips. “Yes, sir, calculating the optimal surveillance routes as we speak.”
Rosco couldn’t help but smile. That Newtype was the alpha and the omega. No attitude and all action; that was Rosco’s kind of gal.
Why didn’t Lo-Skova replace every crew member with the android?
“Crew. Looks like we’re staying our first night at an alien planet.”
The excitement remained in check. Ming reacted first, of course. “Can I go back to my studies, sir? These symbols won’t decrypt themselves.”
“Sure. And as I said earlier, update me as soon as you make a ground-breaking discovery.”
“Every discovery of mine tends to be ground-breaking, sir.”
A swift move later and she was back in her pod, examining the Tri-D recordings of the alien space symbols. Yeltzin stood straight like a cadet on his first day of basic training. “Permission to run a check-up on the optimal weaponry for the mission, sir.”
That was a good idea. They had to make sure the arms worked in this unique atmosphere.
“Permission granted.”
The man hurried away and disappeared behind the command bridge’s gate. Rosco returned to his elevated pod-seat and grinned. Maybe this team was going to be useful after all. He framed the 360 degree recording of the landing site and magnified a local copy on his side screen.
What mysteries do you have for me, Grisaille?
34
Hours later, the captain watched the footage the probes had transferred to his side display—mostly data about the environment and its atmosphere but no trace of an alien civilization. He zoomed in, flipped around, and readjusted. Endless snow-ashen canyons and rocky formations wherever he looked. Were it not for the previous attack, he would have never believed that this planet was inhabited. In the middle of the investigation, Ming snapped her delicate fingers. “Sir, I’ve made progress on the decryption.”
“Don’t hold back.”
She lifted her Daystellar datapad and presented it in front of him like a golden trophy. “Remember these glowing symbols we had seen in space? I’ve analyzed the pattern, as well as the color compositions, and I’ve come to the conclusion that they were indeed warning signs. Both projections featured similar designs, with the second one increasing in size and complexity.”
She nodded at the Newtype inside her core terminal.
“With the help of eQuip, I’ve detected varying wavelengths in the infrared and ultraviolet range. The symbols we’ve seen were just a fraction of what was projected.”
“And what does that mean?”
Ming’s eyes flared in a new glow. “It means the life forms are potential pentachromat.”
Attack of the science jargon, round one. Rosco prepared himself mentally for many more waves of confusion. “Penta-what?”
The doctor was more than happy to explain.
“It means they can perceive, transmit, and process five independent channels of color information through their primary visual system. By contrast, we humans can only work with three color channels.”
“Sounds like trivial information.”
Ming unleashed a soft snarl. Rosco realized that statement bruised her ego, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t an art class.
“How’s that relevant to our mission? Does it mean the aliens own a bigger selection of coloring books?”
“It gives us knowledge about the life form’s origin. No mammals on Earth are pentachromats, which means the alien could be very, very different from us.”
“How different?”
She shrugged. “I need more input. But as I declared earlier, they did send us warning signs in the form of fluorescent hieroglyphs, which could mean they prefer peaceful interaction over warfare.”
“That’s probably why they fired at us.”
She rolled her eyes. “It was probably their last option.”
The confidence left Ming’s voice.
Rosco shrugged it off. “So they’re sentient and they dig colors. Anything else?”
“A life form with enhanced vision is likely focused on using visual cues to both communicate and function. Hence the decoys we were dealing with.”
“But if they see colors we can’t, how can we notice them?”
eQuip shined. “That’s where technology comes in, Captain. We have access to electronics that detect every color’s wavelength. Ekström can assist our vision with his techtoos.”
The cue to check back on the engineer’s whereabouts. Rosco realized he hadn’t seen the man for hours, probably for the better. “Good. Let’s see what he can come up with.”
His right boot was about to step forward when Ming’s voice cut his advance like a knife.
“Let me join you, Captain. Ekström needs an expert communicator that can translate his onslaught of thoughts.”
Was she implying he was incapable of relating to his crew members?
Well, if she could make sense of the engineer’s babble that was a big plus. They had limited resources on this planet which meant every minute counted.
Strike fast, leave even faster.
“Fine. eQuip, stay linked to the terminal and update me in case of an emergency.”
“What emergency, sir?”
“You know. Some anomaly in the environment, some new symbols, an alien ship attack… anything that compromises the security of this ship and its crew.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
She smiled at him before diving back into her console control. Rosco wondered whether the Newtype was ever going to leave her terminal, even if only for a while. He and doctor Brakemoto left the bridge, traversed the corridors, and found the engineer puttering around his lab. As always, the red-haired man was oblivious to the guests trespassing in his tech kingdom.
“Big surprise,” Ekström said.
Rosco frowned already. “For you or me?”
“Neither.”
The engineer lifted his hawkish nose and established a genuine eye contact, which was a first. Rosco’s stare fixated on the ergo standing desk that was once again piled up with tech tools, machine parts, and nano-tech microscopes.
“What were you working on, Ekkie?”
A smile cut the engineer’s thin lips.
“The future.”
35
To be more specific…
“Two drones: Tiger and Lily. Now fully operational.”
“Sweet sol. But what for?”
“Surveillance and self-defense.”
Rosco gave him an approving nod. The drone duo looked off-world with their aerodynamic shapes and upgrades attached to their slick hulls. He couldn’t detect the exact schematic, but they already appeared to
be next-gen like the rest of the prototype vessel. But that wasn’t the reason why Rosco needed him.
“What about the techtoos for our mission? You told us you were working on upgrades that helped us deal with the hostile environment. Something to help us see the full color spectrum those critters throw at us.”
The engineer had already focused his jerky eyes on the main body of the drone. Rosco watched the man’s hands hushing over the electronics and wondered how a shattered mind could control fingers that elegantly. Ekström’s hands seemed to belong to a conductor and the drone set was the orchestra.
Ming stepped forward and whispered. “Let me do it, sir. This situation requires sensitivity.”
Anything that got him results. “Command and conquer, Doctor.”
She tiptoed toward the left part of Ekström’s tech desk and relaxed her stance. “Mister Ekström.”
Her attitude vanished from the voice. It looked as if she was transforming into another person; an emotional shape-shifter.
Rosco watched her with rising curiosity as she chose the right words to sway the engineer. He wondered whether doctor Brakemoto carried voice modulators with subliminal effects because Ekström’s emotion changed before his very eyes.
The man warmed up.
He ignored his duo of drones, took out a slim case from below the shelf and placed it on the free space of the table. He then opened the cover and fanned out dozens of fungus-layered techtoos. He picked one up with his thin fingers and held it in front of his face. The lab’s light shone through and revealed the intricate circuit pattern.
“Function: lowers your need for oxygen supply when wearing an atmogear suit. Up to seventy-five percent decrease, thanks to my algorithm.”
He picked up another one. “Function: decreases need for many rations. Only need two to three thousand calories within an Earth week when applied.”
Rosco was impressed to the say the least. Ming seemed to hack into the engineer’s subconscious mind and trigger his social behavior. The only downside? Ming knew how well she had performed.