Cleon Moon

by Lindsay Buroker

  “It was my day off,” Mica said as they took a turn, the draft stirring their hair as they entered a wide boulevard with a guard post and an arch at the end. A forcefield glinted in the space between columns supporting the arch. “I don’t make booby traps on my day off. I told him as much.” Mica sneered. “He knocked on my hatch first thing this morning, asking if it was still my day off. Apparently, he had a medical emergency to deal with and was up early.” Mica eyed Alisa’s wrist.

  “He’s worried about that staff and doesn’t appreciate that I wouldn’t cry that much if it was stolen,” Alisa said, ignoring the unspoken inquiry about her injury.

  “It could get stolen by someone more loathsome than he, someone who could do more than use it for a nightlight on a dark night.”

  “True. Maybe you should build him a security system. But if someone comes along who can use it, that person probably wouldn’t have trouble avoiding your booby traps.”

  “Please, my booby traps are excellent.”

  Leonidas and Abelardus slowed down as the bikes drew even with the guard post, and a man clad in the same pseudo military uniform that Solstice’s androids had worn stepped out.

  “The city gates aren’t open for another hour,” he announced.

  “We’d like to go out now,” Abelardus said.

  The guard looked at him, looked at the gate, then walked back into his booth.

  “Are we being ignored or is Abelardus using his brain powers?” Mica asked.

  Abelardus smiled back at her and raised a finger to his lips. Next, he grabbed his mask and pulled it up over his face, tightening the straps carefully. A canister on the side would filter out the harmful compounds in the air.

  Alisa and Mica did the same. Leonidas’s helmet would filter out the poor air for him. Yumi puttered up behind them and pulled out hers. The bikes settled to the ground as they idled.

  “Captain,” Mica said, lowering her voice and leaning toward Alisa, “it might not be a bad idea to drop that staff into one of those swamps. It crossed my mind yesterday when everyone who was strong enough to stop me was out. But then I saw the local news feed where someone was being eaten by a dinosaur.”

  “I think someone like Abelardus could find it if it was dropped off somewhere,” Alisa whispered back.

  “I don’t want Emperor Markus’s kid wielding it. He’s probably bitter and jaded after losing his entire family.”

  “Probably.”

  The gate went from translucent to clear as the forcefield dropped. Abelardus waved for the group to follow him as he led the way between the columns. A distant screech greeted them, floating across the dim gray land from the direction of the fungal forest a mile outside the city. Marshes and mud stretched ahead of them, and the road seemed a tiny thread of civilization as it wound between the dark, still pools. It was raised up several feet and shored on either side, but a grenade would easily destroy a section of it. The hover bikes could cross the water, but finding safe landing spots would be hard once one left the road. Alisa remembered the warnings of quick-mud.

  “How far to the coordinates, Abelardus?” Alisa asked.

  He had paused and was looking back toward the dome, waiting for them.

  “About ten miles,” he said, his gaze past her shoulder.

  Three spherical gray auto-cameras floated through the gate after them, and they bobbed along cheerfully, shining lights at their group and toward the surrounding landscape as they collected footage. One of them flew past Alisa so close that she had to duck. It got close to Leonidas, circling his helmeted head, inherently knowing a cyborg ought to be good for ratings. Or maybe there was a human in a control room somewhere, telling the cameras what to do.

  Leonidas parked his bike and stepped off. The next time the camera came close enough, he snatched it from the air, his hands moving too quickly for it to evade him—though it did try heroically to dart away. It continued trying to escape once he held it, but he smashed it between his armored hands, crushing it as if it were made of the thinnest aluminum. He ground his hands together, doing more than necessary to disable it. Only tiny pieces remained when he was done, littering the ground at his boots like confetti.

  “Is our cyborg in a bad mood today?” Mica muttered.

  “Yes,” Alisa said, not surprised when Leonidas pulled his rifle off his shoulder and blasted the other two cameras out of the sky. They exploded, pieces scattering into the mud on either side of the road.

  Leonidas glared defiantly in the direction of the city gate.

  “Think they’ll let us back in later?” Mica asked.

  “I don’t know, but we couldn’t let those cameras follow us. I’m sure Abelardus's Starseer buddies don’t want us leading the mafia to their hideout.” Alisa waved toward the road ahead, hoping to escape sight of the city before more cameras were sent out, possibly with security androids to guard them this time.

  “Lead the way,” Leonidas told Abelardus, then waved for all of them to go ahead of him. “I’ll take up the rear.”

  Alisa looked at him as she floated past on her bike, but his face was unreadable behind his faceplate. He didn’t even meet her eyes, his focus back toward the gate. He was in professional soldier mode again.

  She sighed, missing Leonidas-with-the-mask-down, and once again regretted her carelessness the night before. But she had something else to focus on now. She firmed her jaw and hurried to catch up with Abelardus. It was time to finally find Jelena and show her that she still had a home, that she still had a mother who loved her.

  Chapter 8

  Leonidas shot down two more cameras before their group made it to the fungal forest, the thick stalks appearing more impressive from below than they had from the air. They erupted from the muddy ground, freshly churned earth around them, making Alisa think they might grow with amazing speed. Some stretched as high as fifty feet with bases ten feet in diameter. A few had caps of a sort, but most were stalagmite-like with a distinctive shape that had Alisa resisting the urge to make dirty jokes. Often.

  Yumi almost fell off her hover bike in a few spots because she was leaning over to examine smaller fungi that sprouted around the bases of the big stalks. She had brought binoculars and kept clunking them against the top of her mask as she peered left and right. Alisa hoped she wouldn’t accidentally knock it off. She didn’t know how much of the toxic atmosphere a human could breathe before growing sick—or worse. Presumably, the fancy genetic engineering that had gone into creating those dinosaurs had adapted them for the environment. They might look like their ancient Earth relatives, but the resemblance likely stopped there.

  “Two more miles,” Mica said, still flying beside Alisa. There was room for two bikes to sail along, side-by-side. For now, the group was sticking to a road, but Alisa expected Abelardus to veer off eventually. She doubted the Starseers had set up their base at a common crossroads.

  “What’s the matter?” Alisa asked. “Not enjoying your day off?”

  “The screeching is getting on my nerves.”

  Yes, they had yet to see any dinosaurs, but they were out there. Their cries echoed through the forest, bouncing off the rubbery fungal stalks. The sounds came from all directions, one dinosaur crying out to one side of the group and an answer coming from another. Alisa couldn’t help but feel that her team might be at the center of whatever discussion those little brains were having.

  “We’re going to leave the road here,” Abelardus called back to them, slowing his bike to a stop. It floated a few inches off the ground, the hover jets causing the hem of his black robe to flap about.

  Alisa supposed it was not nice to be amused by the idea of it getting caught in the wheels and him going flying off the back.

  Even though you think things like that about me, I’m still willing to mate with you to breed strong Starseer children, Abelardus announced into her mind.

  Your generosity is without equal.

  I know.

  Stay out of my head.

  He
looked back at her, his eyes crinkling with a grin. You’re sexy in that breathing mask.

  She glared at him and imagined shoving his mask into a dark, tight place.

  Kinky.

  Leonidas’s helmet swiveled toward Abelardus. Alisa could not see his eyes from her position, but she suspected they were narrowed. He probably grew suspicious every time Abelardus grinned at her without apparent reason. Alisa couldn’t fault him for that.

  “Don’t step off your bikes or park them on the ground unless I say so,” Abelardus said. “Some of the mud is hard to get out of, and some of the puddles that look like they’re two inches deep are twenty feet deep. And inhabited.”

  “By more than mosquitoes, I suppose,” Mica said.

  “I assure you that whatever comes out of the water will cause you to lose blood,” Abelardus said.

  “I’m starting to regret choosing this over building booby traps.”

  “It is likely to be more dangerous,” Alisa said.

  “I just didn’t want to spend another day with the doctor. He’s a big pest.”

  “He’s driven by his mission.”

  “So are you, but you’re not as much of a pest.”

  “Just a moderate one instead of a big one?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Keep flattering me like that, and I might give you a pay raise,” Alisa said.

  “Oh? Twice nothing instead of nothing?”

  “Maybe some stock shares in the nothing too.”

  “And you wonder why I want to leave,” Mica said.

  “It is a mystery.”

  Jets rumbled and air hissed as Abelardus took his bike off the road, veering down the slope and out over the marshy water. Leonidas waved for Alisa to go ahead. She, Mica, and Yumi followed Abelardus while he came along last, the back of his hover bike scraping and bumping the gravel slope under the combined weight of his armor and his muscled frame.

  More types of fungi than Alisa had seen in her life dotted the mud and the grayish-green earth between the pools. The clamor coming from the forest all around them seemed to increase in intensity, the inhabitants excited that foolish humans were delving into their domain.

  Yumi hummed happily as she zipped about, leaning over to peer at interesting patches of mushrooms. Alisa hoped someone had brought rope to pull her out of the quick-mud if—when—she tipped off her bike, overly excited by some fungal find.

  About a mile off the road, they were following the shoreline of a lake when Yumi cried, “Look!”

  The men reached for their weapons, Leonidas his rifle and Abelardus his staff. Alisa dropped her hand to her Etcher. Mica’s fingers dipped into her satchel, where she had stashed homemade explosives. Yumi thrust an arm out, not toward the water or toward the sky, but toward a patch of orangish mushrooms that looked like they had pus coming out of them. Alisa could imagine the stench of decay even though the mask filtered out the wilderness odors.

  “What is it?” Alisa asked.

  “The species I told you about. Meykonghi arelexius.” Yumi parked her bike, lowering it to a mostly dry lump of ground. “May I stop to collect some? I brought a specimen kit and a harvest bag.”

  She was already climbing off her bike and jogging toward the unappealing mushrooms. Alisa eyed the ground at her feet. After Abelardus's warning, she expected it to open up and suck Yumi in at every step.

  “Can’t it wait until the way back?” Alisa asked. “We’re close, aren’t we, Abelardus?”

  “Less than a mile away.”

  “This won’t take long,” Yumi said. “They’re growing close together. This is an amazing find. Do you see what lush, vibrant specimens these are?”

  A bead of some pus or ichor dripped off the squashed rim of one of the mushrooms.

  “Vibrant, yeah,” Alisa said. “Are those the orgasmic ones?” She had a hard time imagining something so ugly being turned into a pleasure drug.

  Mica raised her eyebrows at the adjective. “Aren’t you having enough trouble in bed without adding in another element?” She glanced at Alisa’s wrist.

  Alisa flushed. “They’re not for me. Or anyone on the ship.”

  Despite her words, Alisa glanced toward Leonidas, curious if such a compound might somehow bypass his cyborg circuitry, but it had sounded like he hadn’t had much luck with drugs of any kind.

  “Yumi said they can be made into a valuable drug that could pay for upgrades to the ship,” Alisa said. “Or perhaps an increase in her chicken flock.”

  Technically, Yumi hadn’t said what she would use the money for if she created and sold the drug.

  “Is it a legal drug?” Mica asked.

  “I haven’t seen a list of what’s legal and what isn’t since the Alliance took over, and we are, as you may have noticed, pretty far from their influence right now.”

  “So an illegal drug,” Mica said.

  “I doubt anything is illegal on this moon.”

  “Comforting.”

  Alisa suspected Mica would not truly object if drugs bought her equipment upgrades for the engine room, especially if some shiny new tools came in the shopping bag. After all, she’d taken Tomich’s gift easily enough, without worrying that it had essentially been given in trade for that stolen orb.

  Yumi hummed a ditty as she sliced mushrooms off, nestled them in some special wrappers, and tucked them away.

  “After you’re done building Doc’s booby traps, you may have to create a lab for her,” Alisa said. She had no idea what was involved in turning an ugly, pus-leaking mushroom into a high-quality drug, but she imagined counters full of beakers, burbling glass apparatuses, and centrifuges.

  “Too late,” Mica said.

  Alisa raised her eyebrows.

  “Haven’t you been in her cabin lately? I don’t know where she got everything, but she’s got an elaborate setup in there. In addition to all the things growing in pots and hanging wall gardens.”

  “Huh. Do you think the presence of a chemistry lab will make it harder or easier to rent that cabin space to a future passenger?”

  “Depends on whether she leaves behind some of her more appealing compounds,” Mica said.

  The clamor of screeching dinosaurs faded, leaving the forest in silence, save for the faint running of water somewhere nearby. Alisa shifted uneasily in her seat. As much as the noise had been worrying her nerves, the cessation alarmed her even more.

  “Trouble coming,” Leonidas said quietly, gazing toward the forest lining the far end of the lake, the end they had not traveled through yet. Thick mist gathered there, wrapping around—and obscuring—the bottoms of the fungal stalks.

  Abelardus frowned at him, then looked in the same direction. Alisa did not see anything yet, but she did not doubt Leonidas’s enhanced senses.

  “Do we run?” she asked. “Or stay and fight? The bikes should be faster than anything on foot, right?”

  Alisa thought of those groups of people on the videos. Even though she had faith in Leonidas’s abilities, it concerned her that she hadn’t seen anyone winning their battles against the creatures. Those scaly hides had seemed impervious to the blazers the men and women had carried.

  “We can’t leave now,” Yumi said. “I’ve only collected half the patch.”

  Two towering creatures came into sight, stalking through the mist on two legs. They were the Tyrannosaurus rex lookalikes, and there was little doubt regarding their path. They headed along the shoreline, straight toward Alisa’s group.

  “Yumi,” Alisa said, “get back on your bike. Abelardus, can we circle back around the other end of the lake and avoid them?”

  Would the creatures let her group avoid them? Even though they did not appear to be running, they were covering ground quickly. Already, Alisa could make out more details of their scaled gray hides, the muscles in their massive haunches, and the maws full of fangs that were visible as they ran.

  Abelardus was not listening to her. He and Leonidas had moved their bikes in front of the women�
��s, to head off the dinosaurs.

  “I don’t think our stalwart road companions are interested in running,” Mica said, pulling a canister out of her satchel.

  Alisa sighed. “The dinosaurs are worth money, apparently. Maybe more than Yumi’s future drugs. Leonidas mentioned hunting some.”

  Leonidas looked back at her, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Yes, he wanted a battle. Maybe he wanted something bigger than drones to take his aggressions out on.

  Alisa backed her bike up against two of the giant stalks so nothing would be able to attack her from behind while the men were fighting. She did not have any delusions about being much help with her Etcher, especially when she could not grip the handlebars well with her injured left wrist. Yumi climbed onto her bike and hovered next to her. Mica stood up on the rails, her grenade—or whatever that was—ready.

  Leonidas fired as soon as the creatures came within range. The crimson blazer bolts streaked away, landing squarely on one dinosaur’s thick throat. It kept coming. Leonidas kept firing, trying different targets. One bolt took the creature in the eye, and its head whipped back. It roared so loudly, the earth seemed to shudder.

  Abelardus lifted his staff. At first, nothing happened, but then the second dinosaur flew backward, smashing into one of the towering fungal stalks.

  Though it landed hard, it picked itself up, roared, and continued its charge. The one Leonidas had struck in the eye kept coming too. Its massive leg muscles bunched, and it sprang across a pool and toward the men. Leonidas charged forward on his bike, like a jouster rushing to meet his foe with a lance. But Leonidas had a rifle, not a lance. Not that his weapon mattered. Often, he seemed to prefer the raw power he had with only his armored hands.

  Alisa was not surprised when he swerved to avoid the creature, then leaped onto his seat and used it as a springboard. He landed on the dinosaur’s back as it twisted, that massive maw snapping at him. He punched it square in the snout, the force making the creature’s head jerk to the side. Leonidas took advantage, straddling it and grabbing its scaled neck. That neck was so large that he couldn’t get his arms all the way around it. How would he break it like that?