by T. R. Harris
Disappointed—and a little worried for his loyal pet—Zac removed the dead rabbit and cut off the requisite piece for Nikko. The dog took the meat in his mouth, turned slowly and began to leave the compound. A few feet outside, he turned his huge head back to look at him. Narrow yellow eyes conveyed to Zac a look of sadness. Then the huge animal turned away and disappeared into the foliage.
Is he sick? Zac hoped not. Nikko was the only friend he had on the entire planet.
Zac feasted that night on Nikko’s catch and then climbed into the sleeping bag for only the second time since arriving on the planet. It was noticeably cooler and he found the temperature conducive to a good night’s sleep.
The next morning he awoke shivering and stiff. He dressed in the tattered remains of the utilities, slipped on his boots and draped an animal-hide coat over his shoulders. He was expecting cooler temperatures, but this was ridiculous.
Something was blocking the door from opening, but with a little effort he managed to push it away. It was snow.
Zac gasped as he surveyed the changed landscape outside. There was a layer of snow an inch or two thick on the deck and the floor of the compound. But that wasn’t the most jarring transformation. It was the jungle.
Overnight, the once lush green foliage had changed to a uniform dark grey. The tall palms were now wrapped in their wide fronds, hugging the trunks for warmth. As he watched, he saw scrolls made of the smaller fronds being taken in under the large leaves to protect them from the cold. It was the most amazing thing Zac had ever seen.
With the jungle now nothing but a series of tall stalks pointing into the overcast sky, Zac could clearly make out the peaks of the distant mountains. They were covered in a solid layer of white, indicating to him that this was more than just a passing storm. Overnight the season had changed. It was now the dead of winter.
Or was it? This was probably just the beginning. It was bound to get a lot worse before it got better.
The next thing Zac noticed was the relative quiet of the converted jungle, relative because there was still sound everywhere. But unlike the scurrying of woodland creatures, there was only cracking and scraping as every plant, bush, tree and shrub was in the process of gathering up their leaves and branches to form a tight wrap around their vulnerable trunks. The sudden change in climate was part of the planet’s routine, and everything that lived here—with the exception of Zac Murphy—was in the process of transitioning to the next stage.
Food!
The word hit him like a ton of bricks. He took up his six-foot-long bamboo spear and set out through the thin layer of snow into the jungle, which was more aptly a forest now. As he suspected, there was not a creature in sight. Zac was reminded of the strange behavior Nikko had exhibited the day before. The animal knew what was coming, and was either saying goodbye to the strange alien—expecting him not to survive—or was preparing to hunker down until the thaw came in the Spring. This also explained the frenetic mating ritual of the rabbits. There was only so much time to do what had to be done before the snows came.
Yet the animals had to go somewhere; they didn’t all die off overnight. Zac reasoned that unlike the few animals of Earth that hibernated during the winter, this could be a planet were everything hibernated. This was not good. It meant things would indeed get worse, and without the resources to support even a few hardy breeds of plant or animal he could use for food.
He returned to the compound in a panic. Snow had begun to fall, lightly at first, but the imposing clouds overhead told him more was to come.
He went to the shelter covering his crates of supplies and ripped off the bamboo roof. He stacked the crates on top of the panel, taking a couple of the empty containers and packing them with other items such as his cot, sleeping bag and pop-up tent. He had to get to the cave along the foothills as soon as possible, a journey of thirty-five miles and in falling snow. He tied the crates to the bamboo sled and then wrapped the rope around his shoulders. If ever he needed the strength and endurance of a REV it would be today.
He set off for the mountains, towing the sled behind.
As he trudged through the ever-deepening snow, Zac could feel his body cascading, at least to a degree. As he had noticed before, this was a new experience for him. All the times he’d been activated as a REV he had no memory of the event. After a Run, he retained a photographic record of what happened, but it was like a silent video, with images only. He never felt his body or the sensation of becoming an operational REV.
Now he sensed the increase in strength and energy, along with a brightening of the scene as his eyesight grew more sensitive and his hearing more acute. Even his sense of smell seemed heightened. All in all, the natural NT-4 in his body was helping him survive and to press forward toward the distant mountainside.
By the time he reached the cliff face it was dark and he had a solar-powered lamp out leading his way, assisted by the compass on his armband. With the thinning of the forest trees, he spotted the dark circle that was the entrance to the cave a few miles before reaching the base of the cliff. The entrances to the other two caves at ground level were covered with snow, but not the one about a hundred feet above. Yet the stair-step ledges were.
He unhooked the sled and made his way up to the cave, clearing the steps as he went. The chamber was empty; he was expecting some hibernating animal to have claimed it for his own. That would have been fine by him. At least he’d have something to eat this evening rather than his rapidly dwindling rations.
He shuttled the crates up to the cave before breaking out the cot, sleeping bag and all the animal-hide coats and other blankets he had. The small heater he’d been supplied with—and which he hadn’t used since his arrival—was now set on full and placed next to the cot. He was exhausted, cold and hungry. He melted some snow with the heater and hydrated a block of rations. It satisfied his hunger for the moment, if not his loss of precious calories after the long hike.
He crawled under the load of coverings and in a few minutes was sound asleep.
The next morning he checked the charge on the heater. It would need a couple of hours of bright sunlight to recharge, but the gloom from outside the cave told him it could take all day, if even then. Fortunately, the entrance was kept clear of all but blowing snow by a prominent overhang. He stepped outside and surveyed the winter wonderland laid out before him…except he didn’t see it as much of a wonderland.
What he saw were miles upon miles of thick snow cover. The cold had frozen all except the top layer that was still accumulating from a light, but steady snowfall. He was in desperate need of heat, so he dressed as warmly as he could and took his machete and laser blade down to the forest floor. The laser function of the knife had stopped working a couple of weeks before; the delicate circuitry was notorious for breaking down in the field. But he could still use the sharp metal edge. However, the machete would be his main wood-gathering tool.
He set to work on the nearest tree—a former palm—now a grey pole wrapped in an equally grey shroud of fronds. To his surprise, when he cut through the fronds, he found the fibrous bark underneath to be dry and healthy. He sliced off a good portion of it and put it in an animal-hide bag. He would use it for kindling, just as it had back when the forest was a jungle.
Then he cut into the tree itself. Again, the wood was dry and laced with seams of maple-scented pitch. He whacked at the tree for several minutes, chipping off decent-size chunks for his fire. He bundled up the cuttings with rope and hauled them to the cave. He spent most of the day collecting wood, again driving himself to the point of exhaustion.
His labors proved successful. By nightfall he had a tall pile of wood and kindling, with a roaring fire blazing at the entrance to the cave and a smaller one near the cot, which he had positioned along the inner wall of a small alcove. The heat radiated off the rock, turning the interior of the cave maple-scented and toasty. He smiled as he peeled off the shirt of his utilities to let the warmth soak into his skin.
/> His mood took a turn for the worse when he looked at the two plastic crates containing his remaining rations. One was full, the other half-empty. Without another source of food, he figured he had about six days left, and that was just at subsistence level. His REV body needed more than average caloric intake.
Zac spent a restless night in the warm cave agonizing over the challenge he faced. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another….
“It’s a dynamo effect, where energy is fed into a finite space until it collapses into microscopic singularity—a black hole,” explained Dr. Larry Nash. “The Antaere gravity generators are able to do this on a continual basis, creating event horizons which their spacecraft hover just inside of. It’s an absolutely incredible process that we’re only now beginning to understand.”
Except from an article, Washington Post, dated Feb. 4, 2069
13
The next morning dawned cold but clear. Before heading out in search of food, he cut sections out of a lid to one of the empty crates and formed a pair of crude snow shoes. He used leather straps to secure them to his fur galoshes. As he set out with his trusty bamboo spear, machete and K-BAR knife, he struggled keeping the shoes on his feet. After half a dozen starts and stops he finally settled on a decent compromised. It wasn’t pretty, and it was awkward, but at least they kept him from sinking into the snow.
He was an hour into his hunt—with absolutely no luck—when came upon a flurry of paw prints in the soft top layer of the freshly fallen snow. His heart leapt. Here were animals still awake and roaming the forest. There had to be food for them—and in a worst case scenario—they would be food for him.
He studied the prints. They had wide pads with deep indentations on one side indicating long, sharp claws. Zac figured they were a form of native wolf. He set off following the direction of the tracks.
A few minutes later he stopped suddenly, sensing that something wasn’t right. He turned slowly to see the first of the animals slowly creeping up behind him. It was indeed wolf-like but a little smaller. It had silver-gray fur and what appeared to be a boney ridge plate running down the spine to its powerful hunches. The snout was long, with moist black nostrils that flared in the cold air. Frosty clouds of breath escaped from the mouth as it snarled at him, revealing top and bottom rows of needle-sharp teeth. Pale gray eyes stared unblinking at him as the beast continued to approach.
He heard a low growl to this right and turned to see another of the native wolves appearing from behind a tree. A quick scan found a dozen more, staying back in the distance as the lead force closed in on him.
Zac was sure none of the wolves had seen a creature like him. His scent was strange and his danger unknown. They were being cautious until they knew the extent of the threat or the taste of his flesh.
As the main predator drew near, Zac used his enhanced REV reactions to snap out with the bamboo spear and slap the beast in the snout. Surprised, the wolf jumped back, yipping before lowering its head and giving out an even fiercer growl. Another of the approaching animals got within range, and Zac whacked it across the side of the head. There was confusion within the pack. They weren’t used to food that fought back. A few more slaps and the pack gave up on this obstinate prey. They yelped and barked at they ran off into the woods.
Zac followed. He didn’t want to kill the hunters, content to let them lead him to a steady supply of food. He also didn’t want to chase them away too far if they were territorial. He needed their skills and familiarity with the local landscape.
Eventually he heard a loud series of yipping and howls. He stepped up on a low hill where he could look down on a small clearing between the gray trees. The wolves were going crazy, running around in circles and burying their long snouts into the snow before withdrawing them and howling some more. Then they began to dig, using long claws to cut through ice and snow. Most disappeared completely in the tunnels, before emerging a moment later with a bloody animal in their jaws.
Jackpot! Zac thought. The wolves’ heightened sense of the smell allowed them to locate hibernating animals under the snowpack, and now they were running around, covering the virgin snow in a gruesome spray of bright red blood from the bodies of the their prey.
Zac entered the fray. The wolves growled at him and moved away. Desperate not to let them get away, he jumped on one of the wolves and pressed its huge head into the snow.
“Drop it!” he commanded, slapping the head with the end of his spear. The wolf didn’t comprehend; all it knew was that someone was trying to take its food away. It growled and struggled, before finally dropping the animal and taking a snap at Zac. He shoved the wolf away and grabbed the bloody carcass.
The other wolves ignored him, while his disgruntled victim ran off to dig a second hole. A moment later he was rewarded with another catch, and forgot about his humiliation at the hands of this strange new predator.
Zac lashed out with his stick, slapping the skulls of two other wolves until they dropped their catch. He snatched them up before others of the pack could get to them.
Five minutes later it was over. The pack had harvested all the food they could from this field and ran off looking for better hunting grounds.
Zac was ecstatic. He had seven dead animals, most the tasty rabbit creatures his diet had consisted of for the past two months. His stomach growled at the prospect of a decent meal. He double-timed it back to the cave, as best he could in his flimsy snowshoes. With a full belly and amply heat, he would make a better pair. He would need them to track his new friends.
The one advantage found in the cold of winter over the heat of summer was that Zac was able to field dress several of the rabbits and place them in the ice outside the cave for future consumption. This allowed him to stockpile food, having to go out only once every four days or so to track down the wolf pack and abscond with part of their catch. The beasts learned quickly, and most surrendered their prizes with only a wave of his stick, rather than a whack to the head. There was plenty of food for everyone, even if some of the wolves had to do double duty to keep Zac happy.
As the days passed, and he learned more about how to survive in the winter of his prison planet, Zac discovered something about the trees he used for firewood. If he cut into a section, exposing the interior to the cold, the next day the tree would be limp and soggy and on the verge of death. The shield from the cold had to be maintained for the tree to survive. Once cut, it would die.
So he began to harvest whole trees at a time. It wasn’t that there was a shortage of them, it just a seemed a waste otherwise. Soon a full third of the cave was stacked with firewood, with long strings of bark-kindling hanging from rock ledges.
And then the routine set in. Even though he had to go out only infrequently to gather food, he savored his time in the woods. The hide coats kept him warm and his new snowshoes worked great. He even took a length of bamboo from the sled and split it in two, forming a crude set of skis. He didn’t use them for downhill treks, but rather cross-country. They did the job.
Three weeks into his stay in the cave, Zac was experiencing the same malaise as has he had at his jungle compound. He was bored senseless. And he didn’t even have the universal utility of bamboo stalks to keep him occupied. All he did was whittle on some of the logs and wait for the next time he could get some exercise tracking down his friendly pack of wolves.
That all ended, however, when he heard the sonic boom.
At first he thought it was a thunder clap. They were common in the cold, thin air of the mountains. But this one sounded different. He rushed to the cave entrance to have a look.
Sure enough, using his REV-enhanced eyesight, he detected a shuttlecraft circling for a landing some distance away. He checked the rangefinder on this armband. Twenty miles out. He noted the heading on the compass and sighted along a set of gray trees the location of the shuttle as it dipped from view.
Zac shook his head. “How stupid do they think I am?” he asked aloud. He’d begun to say a lot of thi
ngs out loud these days, a defense against the unnatural silence of his surroundings.
He recognized the type of shuttle. These vehicles were tasked with delivering Marines to a battlefield, and not announcing their arrival with a boom that could be heard for fifty miles in all directions. No, the sound was for his benefit, which revealed another truth he had long suspected.
He was being watched.
One did not set a prisoner on a planet without some form of monitoring. If not, then just kill him and get it over with. The Marines were keeping an eye on him; hell they might even have a mosquito drone in the cave, watching his every move. And now they were letting him know they were here.
And when the shuttle lifted off less than five minutes later, creating a second shock wave as it raced for space, he knew another REV like himself had just been deposited on the planet. The sneaky bastards had tried to make it not so obvious by placing the new prisoner twenty miles away. But Zac understood the meaning. What frustrated him the most was that the people in charge of this fiasco expected him to believe that the location was just a matter of chance.
Tomorrow Zac would head out and fetch the other REV. At least then he’d have another person to talk to, other than himself.
Ten minutes! We’ve been able to take a subject up to ten minutes and bring him back down. This does tend to increase the residual effects of the drug on the system. Fortunately, the small amount of NT-4 remaining in the body mitigates the effects.
Journal Entry, March 8, 2073, Dr. Clifford Slater
14
The next morning, Zac dressed in a horn-dog coat, fur galoshes, snowshoes and a rabbit skin hat. He placed the second coat and snowshoes in one of the empty crates, along with his sleeping bag, blankets, solar heater and lamp. He secured it to the bamboo sled and wrapped the load with rope. He was pretty sure the other REV would be ill-prepared for the Eliza-3 winter. He could help with that.