by Cross, Amy
“We still might not,” I reply, as he helps me up.
“What are we supposed to do now?” he asks, as we both look out toward the ocean.
“We are so not the right people to be dealing with this situation,” I tell him. “This is why they should have sent people who actually know what they're doing.”
“I don't know if anyone could do much,” he replies. “I saw a map on one of the monitors, before we crashed. I think the ship's A.I. was trying to quickly come up with the perfect landing spot, but I guess it didn't get there in time. We probably didn't even fall very far short.”
I want to argue with him, to tell him that there's still hope, but I'm not sure I can find the right words. As we came down, the alarm was blaring and the entire ship seemed to be hurtling out of control. I have no idea exactly how the people back at Project Atherius expected the ship to land once we got here, but I'm pretty sure they weren't aiming for us to hit an ocean.
Although it's too dark for us to see anything, we can both hear occasional low-pitched metallic groans, as if the entire ship is at risk of getting pulled apart by the storm. A moment later, a loud splitting sound fills the air, and I can't help worrying that the ship's not going to survive.
“It's like it's screaming,” Thomas says after a moment, as rain continues to batter our faces. “We have to help it somehow.”
I know he's right, but I have no idea what we can do. Every twenty or thirty seconds, more lightning fills the sky, giving us brief glimpses of the ship as waves crash against its side. The situation seems hopeless, and the ship's hull is creaking and groaning as if it might split apart at any moment. I feel completely helpless, as if there's nothing I can do to save the situation, and I guess Thomas feels the same. We stand in silence, waiting for a miracle as the storm continues to rage all around us, but I figure we're too far from home now for miracles to reach out and do any good.
“They did so well,” Thomas says finally. “They built that thing and made it fly, and they got it all the way out here, only for it to go wrong at the very last moment. I can't quite believe that it's going to end like this.”
“I guess it always was a long shot,” I reply. “We knew that.”
Before Thomas can reply, the ship's hull groans again, and then the entire vessel tilts over onto its side. I instinctively take a step back, just as another bolt of lightning breaks the sky and allows us to see the ship crashing beneath the waves, with its rear section having entirely sheared away. There's no explosion, there's only a heavy rushing sound as the ship sinks. Darkness returns, and Thomas and I wait for the next burst of lightning. I keep telling myself that somehow everything will be okay, that maybe the ship's designers built in some way for the hull to come back up, but a moment later there's more lightning and I see to my horror that the entire rocket has sunk beneath the surface.
We came all this way, and at the very last moment our mission has failed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thomas
By the time the sun begins to rise, the storm has ended and the sea has begun to calm. Still soaked, with my clothes clinging to my body, I stare at the horizon and try to understand the fact that this is a different sun to the one I've been seeing all my life. We're millions of miles from home, probably several light years away, and our home sun is probably just a dot in the night sky. This sun, even though it rises like ours and warms this world, is one that I've never seen before.
We're on a sandy shore, peppered with rocks and occasional branches, and behind us the land stretches out for many miles until a series of huge, dark mountain peaks rise up into the sky. The colors of dawn here seem richer somehow, with a stronger distinction between the reds and the yellows, although I guess I might be imagining some of that. Maybe there's not such a difference at all. Still, there's a strong breeze blowing in from the sea, and a noticeably salty smell in the air. The rocks are jet-black and glistening, but something else seems particularly strange about this place and finally I realize what's missing.
Animals.
Looking up into the sky, I see no birds. I guess there's no reason why there should be birds here, although the sky seems empty without them. I look down into the pools of water that have filled gaps between the rocks, and I realize that there seems to be nothing living in those, either. Turning toward the sea, I tell myself that there must be fish out there somewhere, probably weird alien fish that look totally bizarre, but again I don't actually see anything. So far, it's as if Elizabeth and I are the only living creatures on this entire planet.
Speaking of Elizabeth, I turn and see that she's picking her way carefully back toward me, having taken a short walk along the shore in search of... Well, I don't exactly know what she was looking for, but she was probably just hoping – like I'm hoping – to spot something that proves we're not alone.
“Hey,” she says as she reaches me.
“Hey.”
“Did anything show up?” she asks.
“Like what?”
“I don't know.” She stops and looks around.
“What are we going to eat?” I ask.
“I have no idea,” she replies, turning to me. “I don't see any trees anywhere, any vegetation. As far as I can tell, this place is just made out of rocks and sand and water. It's like a rock desert.”
“It can't just be that,” I point out. “No planet is gonna be just one thing all over. Besides, we saw green bits from space. If we set off somewhere, eventually we have to find something else. And water, too. There have to be rivers. I think that sea water here is even saltier than it is back home.”
I pause for a moment as the enormity of those words begins to sink in.
“Do you realize,” I continue cautiously, “that we're actually standing on an alien planet?”
She nods.
“But we're actually, truly on a whole different world,” I add, trying to get her to understand the magnitude of what's happened to us. “I mean, how did everyone at Project Atherius know that it'd be safe for us to breathe here? How did they know it wouldn't be, like, raining acid or something?”
“I'm sure they had their methods,” she replies.
“But they wouldn't have been able to tell whether there's food here, would they?” I continue, as I feel myself starting to panic. “That part would just be down to pure luck.”
“I guess,” she replies, turning and looking toward the water. “Do you think we could swim down?” she asks. “I know it sounds crazy, but what if we swim down to the wreckage and...”
Her voice trails off.
“And what?” I ask.
“I don't know.”
“I don't think there's anything here for us,” I tell her. “There's nothing to eat and nothing to drink. There don't even seem to be any fish, so I figure we've really only got one option.”
“What's that?” she asks, turning to me again. “What do you think we should do now?”
***
We start walking, heading inland, making our way toward the distant mountains, and as we do that the morning sun brings more warmth. My clothes are starting to dry, although they're still a little chilly. The ground is rough and uneven, and we have to hop from rock to rock. I don't know how far the mountains are, but I figure this trek is going to take us at least two or three days.
“Are your legs aching?” Elizabeth asks eventually.
“Yeah,” I reply. “I guess that's 'cause we were asleep for five hundred years.”
“I just realized that everything's going to be different,” she continues. “We don't even know how long a day lasts here. The sun might stay up for a hundred hours, or even longer.”
“I guess.”
“What do you think we should call that mountain?”
“Why should we call it anything?” I ask.
“If we're the first people here, we get to name things,” she tells me. “I wish I had a pen and some paper, I'd love to start trying to draw a map of this place.” She pauses as we
continue to walk. “Why don't we name it after your sister?”
“My sister?”
“Mount Martha.”
“I'm not sure she'd take that as a compliment,” I reply, “but sure, we can do that.”
“And the one next to it can be Mount Henry,” she says, “after my brother. We can just name all these places after people we knew back home. We can even name this whole planet. I think I heard someone saying, back at the facility, that the planet was supposed to be called Atherius.”
“Screw that,” I mutter. “We can come up with something that's -”
“Look!” Elizabeth shouts, suddenly pointing past me.
Turning, I see nothing but more rocks, but Elizabeth quickly scrambles past me. Despite the fact that she's missing one foot, she's pretty fast, and I watch as she hurries over to a particularly large pool of water between some of the rocks. She drops down to her knees and looks in the water, and then she turns to me with a stunned expression.
“There's something in here!” she gasps. “I think it's... I think it's an alien!”
Figuring that she has to be wrong, I carefully make my way over to join her. This whole planet has seemed totally barren in the hours since we arrived, but – as I kneel next to Elizabeth – I see that there is something wriggling in the water. Lights glints on the surface, making it hard for me to see properly, but finally I spot what looks like a long worm that's flicking and twisting down at the bottom of the pool. A moment later, the worm starts crawling out, and I see that it has lots of tiny barbed legs on its side, like some kind of centipede.
“Maybe it came with us,” I suggest, as I watch the creature making its way across to another rock. “We might have contaminated this planet.”
“A random centipede crept onboard?” Elizabeth replies skeptically. “No way. Face it, Thomas, this is an actual alien creature, and we're the first to see it. And I guess we're probably the first aliens that it's seen, too.”
I want to tell her that there might be other explanations, but instead I simply watch as the little guy crawls through a gap between two rocks and vanishes from view. I guess I'm still finding it hard to believe that we just encountered an alien, even if deep down I know that's exactly what must have happened. I used to watch films about aliens all the time, but they were always horror stories about creatures with big teeth. I'm kinda stunned to realize that our first proper alien is, in fact, a weird little red half-worm, half-centipede guy.
“We need to keep moving,” Elizabeth tells me, hauling herself up. “We need to find fresh water. That mountain's still at least a day away, and even then we might have to walk some more. We have no idea when or where we're going to find something we can eat.”
Getting to my feet, I realize that she's right. The sun's still rising, and the temperature's really picking up, to the extent that I'm actually starting to sweat. My stomach's rumbling, and as we set off again I can't help thinking about some of the things I used to eat back at home.
“I'd do anything for a burger right now,” I mutter. “A big, juicy Moolio's burger with all the trimmings.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elizabeth
“Eat it.”
“You eat it first.”
“You saw it first,” Thomas points out.
“Yeah, but you're the one who seems hungrier,” I reply, staring at the strange, large yellow thing that's hanging from a stick poking out of the ground.
At least, that's the best way I can describe this thing. We've finally reached the spot where the rocks give way to muddier ground, and the route ahead of us is starting to curve up to join the mountain. There are a few of these sticks around, and they look like single tree branches that have risen up from the depths. Each of them has one of these yellow fruit-like things hanging from its tip.
“We should both eat at the same time,” Thomas suggests.
“Then we might both get sick at the same time, too,” I reply. “Face it, the best idea is if one of us eats, and the other waits to see if they need to help out in any way.”
“So why should it be me who does the eating?” he asks. “Why should I take the risk?”
Sighing, I realize that at this rate we're never going to get anything done. I stare at the fruit – if that's even the right word – and I can't help noticing that it looks like a giant, slightly flattened lemon. I've definitely never seen anything like this back home, but after a moment I take a step forward and reach out to touch the fruit's tough, mottled surface.
“Are you going to eat it?” Thomas asks.
“I guess I have to,” I reply, “seeing as how you're too scared.”
With that, I pull the strange fruit from the tree, and I find that it comes away easily enough. A kind of clear liquid immediately starts running from one end, and without a second thought I tilt the fruit above my head and let the liquid pour into my mouth. It's surprisingly sweet, but I gulp it down as fast as I can, and I swear I immediately start to feel so much better and stronger. I'm aware that this effect might all be in my head, but I don't care about that as I drink more and more.
“Hey,” Thomas says after a moment, “is it okay?”
I don't reply, and after a moment he heads past me and grabs fruit from another branch. And that's how, sitting side by side on the ground in the shadow of Mount Martha, we enjoy our first meal on this strange new world.
***
“So I figure I should probably tell you something,” Thomas says a while later, once we've both picked the fruit apart and eaten and drunk every part that we can. “Do you remember how I told you that I was awake for a few days before you came around on the ship?”
Feeling more than a little bloated, I simply nod.
“I had time to check the computers a little,” he continues, sounding a little reluctant. “A lot of them made no sense at all, I really couldn't figure them out. But I managed to access the communication systems. There was one program in particular that I was able to get my head around.”
“What was that?” I ask.
He pauses.
“What?” I continue. “Thomas, you're starting to worry me.”
“The ship was sending messages home,” he explains. “Updates, really, about our progress. It was basically trying to explain our situation to anyone who might be listening. It was just using a pretty standard radio system with no real tricks.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I reply.
“It was also asking for updates from home,” he adds. “That was part of the message, in loads of different languages.”
I feel a flicker of dread in the pit of my stomach as I realize where he seems to be heading with this. I want to shut the conversation off, but I tell myself that it's better to know the truth as quickly as possible.
“Did it... get a reply?” I ask finally.
He pauses, and then he shakes his head.
“That doesn't necessarily mean anything,” I tell him. “There are lots of reasons why they wouldn't have responded to the message. They might have been too busy.”
“For five centuries?”
“Or they might have changed their technology by now.”
“And they no longer pick up simple radio waves?”
“Okay, so they missed,” I continue, trying not to panic. “They sent messages, but space is huge, right? So there was just a technical error and...”
My voice trails off as I see the sadness in his eyes. I know I'm clutching at straws, but for a moment I really don't want to admit the obvious truth.
“Do you really think it's all gone?” I ask after a few more seconds.
He pauses, and then he nods.
“All of it?” I continue. “The whole world? Everyone?”
“It was pretty much on its last legs when we left,” he replies somberly. “I'm sure the planet's still there, but I doubt there are any people left. But after five hundred years, it's possible that there's still life, right? The human race might be gone, but something prob
ably took its place, or is in the process of taking its place.” He furrows his brow. “I'm not sure whether that's an uplifting thought. I'd give anything to see what it's like back there, though. Just for a moment. Just to have some idea.”
“I think it'd be too sad,” I tell him. “To find out that it's all gone, I mean. To know that home isn't there anymore. I guess I'd rather cling to the hope that somehow some people survived.” I pause, fully aware that I sound pretty naive right now, and then I turn to Thomas. “It's a little freaky to think that you and I are the last -”
“What the hell?” he shouts, suddenly pointing past me.
Turning, I'm shocked to see something moving nearby, clambering down the muddy verge that leads toward the mountain. I try to tell myself that it's just a shadow, but I quickly realize that this thing – whatever it is – seems to be about the size of a large dog. At the same time, it's glinting somehow in the sun, and a moment later Thomas grabs my arms and forces me up.
“I knew we'd run into something eventually,” he stammers.
“It looks like some kind of lizard,” I reply, “but... shaped like a dog.”
“Let's not let it get too close,” he says, taking a step back as the creature continues to approach us. “Elizabeth! Move!”
“It might be friendly,” I point out. “It might -”
Before I can finish, the creature opens its mouth and lets out a loud hissing sound. I join Thomas in slowly backing away, and we both watch as the creature heads over to one of the pieces of fruit and sniffs it heavily. At that moment, I spot more movement in the distance, and I see that the creature's not alone. The one that's closest to us is gold-colored, but most of the others are a mix of green and gray. They seem to be swarming down here like a kind of herd, and I can't help feeling a little threatened as one of them breaks away from the others and starts coming even closer to where we're standing.