Only his eyes moved as he tracked the slow but steady path of the giantpillar. It headed directly for him, and Eli studied it as it drew nearer. It was orange and black and was covered with thousands of long, stiff, hairlike spikes. Eli couldn’t see past the spikes, so he had no idea what lay underneath, but the animal looked like nothing more than a giant caterpillar and seemed menacing only because of its size.
The giantpillar stopped advancing a meter away from Eli’s position, and the ranger had to force himself to remain still and be patient. Two large antennae appeared from the front of the beast and reached out, seeming to test the air. Eli had no problem imagining that he was being assessed and hoped the armor didn’t offer up any hint that he was a potential enemy or food source. The antennae touched his right shoulder and prodded. Eli’s grip tightened on the tree trunk, but he flexed his knees and prepared to leap away at the first sign of attack or threat.
The antennae stopped their probing and retracted. Eli watched the creature closely and saw a long, wet slit appear from the depths of the hairy spikes. Three long, wet . . . tongues? . . . slipped from the slit and reached out slowly. Eli nearly lost his composure and jumped, but he decided to stay put for a moment longer. So far, the giantpillar hadn’t done anything more than check him out, and he hoped the “tongues” were just more of the same.
The first tongue touched his shoulder where the antenna had probed, then moved from right to left across his body. Ugh. The tongue left a sluglike, gray trail of wet glop across the center of Eli’s faceplate as it traveled to his left shoulder. The slimy appendage remained in contact with his suit for a few more moments, then slowly retracted back into the long slit from which it had appeared, followed by the other two tongues.
Eli imagined the beast trying to make up its mind about the strange being it had just encountered and tensed his body again, readying himself for fight or flight.
After Eli silently counted to ten, the beast shifted to the right and began to move. Eli held his breath and watched in disbelief as the giantpillar’s hairy body rippled quietly past him and down the trunk of the tree. When the tail finally passed, Eli turned his head and tracked the thing as it moved down the tree and then disappeared into the jungle below. Eli noted the path the creature took and breathed a sigh of relief as it headed away from the path that he had hoped to take. Once it was gone, the ranger flexed his arms and legs one at a time to get circulation going in his extremities. Then he began his own descent.
Eli was twenty minutes into the day’s journey when he suddenly remembered the near-silent urgings that had awakened him from sleep. He stopped and knelt as he ran through the events as best as he could recall.
Something had warned him of the threat using mindspeak. The contact hadn’t been nearly as complete or efficient as the mental contact he experienced with Aank, but it had been contact nonetheless. Eli scanned the jungle around him. Somewhere out there, someone or something had tried to help him.
He didn’t know if they were still nearby, but Eli formed words in his head and projected them with all the conscious mental force he could muster to the surrounding jungle.
Thank you!
He waited anxiously for a response, but after ten seconds of silence, he shrugged and stood. A pull from the dwindling two-liter water supply in his suit was breakfast, and then he moved out.
* * *
Lying prone near the broken lip of what he had begun calling the “twilight layer,” Benson and the two soldiers with him were well hidden. The camouflage systems built into his suit were activated, and a quick glance to the right gave him confidence they wouldn’t be spotted. Aquino was less than five meters away and was practically invisible.
Benson surveyed the wrecked ship spread out below their position.
It could have been worse.
The Agate had crashed through all four layers of the forest and now had come to rest on the dark surface. There was significant damage, no doubt. The rear of the ship, where the drives had been located, had broken apart from the rest of the vessel and lay a kilometer to the west. But the bulk of the scout ship had remained mostly intact.
“Movement on the left, Lieutenant,” Corporal Thomas Aquino said, pointing.
Benson looked to the left of the ship and spotted a trio of large shapes, moving slowly. He dialed up the magnification to get a better view.
“What the crud?” he muttered, surprised by what he saw. The tall, apelike bodies, green leathery skin, and large, batlike ears left no doubt. “They’re Minith.”
“Two more on the right,” Private Ming, the third member of the scout team chimed in.
Benson looked that way and noted that those two were also Minith. All five were armed with non-Alliance weapons and were obviously guarding the wreckage. Huh. Benson had expected Zrthns; they were the obvious choice, given their history of greed and underhandedness, and especially where agsel was concerned. The presence of Minith soldiers was unexpected. The fact that they carried alien weapons made it even more of a mystery. Not that it mattered. An enemy is an enemy.
Benson chewed the inside of his right cheek as he silently thought through plans, options, and scenarios.
Unsuited humans would have a tough time in hand-to-hand combat against a single Minith. Although they weren’t all that smart, Minith warriors were strong, aggressive, and single-minded when it came to battle. They aimed to kill or maim the opponent standing in front of them as quickly as possible, then move on to the next. Fortunately, Benson and his soldiers were outfitted with PEACE armor, which more than equalized the strength component. If push came to shove, he had no doubt that his armored rangers were a more-than-adequate match for the non-armored Minith below.
But did they need to be? That was the question.
The carriers had already been prepped for a lengthy expedition when they were used to escape the injured Agate. They still held enough water and food to support the survivors for several weeks. While those supplies would run out long before help arrived, they weren’t desperate. Not yet. They could wait and probably should wait.
Having made his decision, Benson instructed Ming and Aquino to retreat, then began inching backward.
They would return to the carriers, locate the mine, and scout it out. Knowledge is power, so why not accumulate as much knowledge as possible before committing to a course of action?
Chapter 11
Oinoo took his place on the raised dais that was located at the center of the Circle of Administrators and waited. He was anxious but resolved. He had a contractual base upon which his arguments would reside. Unlike his autonomous move against the Shiale Alliance on Telgora eighteen cycles earlier, his most recent movements against the Alliance had been approved.
He consulted his timepiece and saw the appointed time was nearly upon them. He faced the Executive’s position, as required by custom, and quelled his tentacles in anticipation of the arrival of the Twelve. He knew the esteemed leader would not be present for this review. The Executive relied on the dozen, personally selected administrators—the Twelve—to handle all routine business affairs for the Zrthn routine business affairs.
The lighting in the room flickered briefly, and one by one the administrators appeared, each standing at his or her appointed position around the Circle. As Oinoo had guessed, the Executive’s position remained vacant. Still, Oinoo continued facing in that direction and waited silently as his superiors assembled themselves. He would know soon enough where the administrators stood on the subject at hand by which of them initiated the review.
“Trade Arranger Oinoo,” Uptoon, the Circle’s Second Administrator, began. Oinoo’s tentacles dipped slightly in resignation. He had hoped to be addressed by Ellil, the Lead Administrator. Not a good beginning. “We have received your report of the events on Cerbius. The arrival of the Shiale ship was unexpected and unfortunate. When we authorized your operation, we were informed the planet was unknown, uninhabitable, and of little concern to the Alliance. Were we mi
sled?”
Oinoo quivered atop his tentacles. Although he hadn’t recognized it at the time, in hindsight he was certain that he had been misled by the Minith slave, Drah. The idiot had convinced him that the Alliance had not known about the agsel deposits. Oinoo should have known better, but his own greed had allowed him to be swayed.
“No, Administrator Uptoon. When my pod requested approval to mine the planet, the conditions you mentioned were accurate.” As far as I knew them to be, Oinoo added silently. “The Shiale craft appears to be a small scout ship. Our slaves on the ground are still investigating the wreckage, but initial reports indicate it was on a standard scouting mission. The planet is within the territorial space claimed by the Alliance, so these types of missions were to be expected.”
In other words, you knew this could happen as well as I did.
The administrators surrounding Oinoo shuffled on their tentacles at the implication. Or perhaps they felt he was lying. Regardless, they had approved of the operation and held some of the responsibility for where they found themselves. The real question was what would they do next? There were really only two choices: leave Cerbius and abandon the agsel it held, or stand up to the Alliance and claim the resources for their own.
Uptoon was notorious for his “tentacles off” approach when it came to dealing with other factions. Oinoo believed him weak, but it was Uptoon’s voice that had been selected to speak for the administrators, which meant a majority of them sided with him on this issue. Not good.
“The Circle believes it best that we abandon the planet and remove our slaves and our equipment before the Shiale Alliance discovers what we have done,” Uptoon said, confirming Oinoo’s fears. “We cannot—”
“Administrator Uptoon!” Oinoo interrupted. He noted the wriggle of irritation that passed through Uptoon’s tentacles but pushed forward, eager to make the Circle understand. “The agsel we’ve discovered on this planet is unlike any we’ve ever come across. It’s nearly pure, straight from the ground. And it’s plentiful. The deposits on Cerbius will give us independence from both our Ilthryn and Shiale contracts!”
“Oinoo,” Uptoon replied, waving his tentacles in a manner meant to instill calm. Oinoo felt anything but calm. “You and the Thmelia pod have served the Executive well over the years, despite your pod’s constant . . . conflicts with the Shiale Alliance. Your predecessor, Oiloo, was handed over to the humans for his interferences with their internal politics.”
Oinoo flinched at the news. He and his pod had often wondered about Oiloo’s disappearance and debated what had really happened to him fourteen cycles earlier when he had traveled to Waa for negotiations with the Alliance, but they had never received any official word. Until now.
“And then your own attempt at backing the Minith coup on Telgora,” Uptoon continued, reminding Oinoo of his failure. “But the events taking place on Cerbius go beyond your pod and extend to all Zrthns. To remain on the planet will require a concerted military effort.”
“Yes, it will,” Oinoo agreed and pressed. “Which is exactly what we need to do. The benefits are significant; the risks are minimal. We have a foothold on the planet and the ability to expand that foothold. The Shiale Alliance is strong on Telgora and Waa. However, their ability to mount offensives on other worlds is limited. If we claim Cerbius and insert a significant military contingent there, they won’t be able to pry it from us.”
“Oinoo, while we possess a significant military, we are a race that exists for and thrives upon trading,” Uptoon said, his tone that of a parent speaking to a child.
“And agsel is the most valuable resource that can be traded,” Oinoo countered. “With our own source of pure agsel, all of our pods will prosper and grow. I am not just thinking of the Thmelia pod, but of all Zrthn pods.”
“Enough!”
The interruption caused all heads to rotate toward the Executive’s position, which was now filled. Oinoo bent his tentacles and assumed a kneeling position. A quick twist of his head revealed that all of the administrators around him were also kneeling.
“Rise,” the Executive commanded after several long seconds. All rose and rotated their heads to face their leader. When he had everyone’s attention, he spoke again, and looked directly at Oinoo. “Oinoo, of the Thmelia pod, you’ve obviously given this much thought. How do you propose we would go about this hostile takeover?”
Oinoo raised himself up on his tentacles and faced the Executive. He was the shortest Zrthn in his pod, but that fact had never tempered his actions, curtailed his tongue, or prevented him from recognizing opportunities. He saw this as an opportunity and focused on representing himself and his pod in a positive fashion.
“Executive,” he began, striving to appear calm and logical. “We currently possess a transportation portal on Cerbius. I propose moving our forces through the portal immediately to bolster our presence on the planet.”
“This is a dry planet, is it not?” the Executive asked. “We cannot maintain a prolonged presence on a dry planet.”
“Sir, the planet is a mixture of wet and dry. While it is true that the area around the mine is dry, there are large and extensive oceans less than two hundred kilometers from the mine.” Oinoo’s mind raced to fill in the gaps that the Executive might be envisioning. He’d always been good at thinking on the fly—it came in handy during negotiations—and now he put that skill to use. “With the support of misting units, we can move significant numbers of our forces through the forest that separates the mine from the ocean. We can stage our forces there. Also, I have several Thmelia cruisers less than three weeks from Cerbius. I can move those to the planet immediately. Once there, we can use the onboard portals to move our forces directly to the oceans.”
“Three weeks? How long will it take the Shiale Alliance to reach the planet?”
“Using their fastest ships, it will take the Alliance at least nine weeks to reach the planet.”
The Executive’s finger-tentacles tapped against his body as he considered what he had been told. Oinoo knew he was making a decision. From the supreme leader’s series of questions, he was hopeful the decision would be in his favor. The finger tapping ceased and the Executive looked around the Circle at the Twelve. He did not ask for further input or counsel.
“Very well,” he finally announced. “Make it happen.”
Without any further instruction or acknowledgment, the Executive’s link was terminated and he disappeared from the circle. Oinoo watched in startled surprise as the Twelve looked at each other, exchanged Zrthn shrugs, then wavered, faded, and evaporated from the room as their communication links were also severed.
Silently, the diminutive pod leader turned and whisked from the room. Suddenly, he had a planet to capture.
Chapter 12
The proximity alarm jarred Eli from another miserable slumber. Locked in place, upright against another of the large trees, the first thing he noticed was the scattering of wet droplets that covered his faceplate. It was raining.
The recognition slapped him to awareness and he read the alarm details, then looked upward. Just like the day before, he saw a giantpillar headed his way. It was unlikely that it was the same beast as before—he’d traveled more than twenty kilometers the previous day, after all—but he knew from his first encounter that it wouldn’t (probably) consider him a meal or a threat. So he just waited and watched.
Unlike the first encounter, this giantpillar didn’t even slow down to assess him; it just undulated leisurely by, not giving him a moment’s consideration. Maybe the word had gotten out. Ignore the biped that hangs from trees. It may look like food, but it smells like agsel. Who knew? Eli didn’t care; as long as the things continued to ignore him, he was content to live and let live.
What he wasn’t content to do, however, was to let this rainstorm pass him by. He needed to replenish his two-liter bladder tank and didn’t know when another opportunity might present itself.
He didn’t wait for the giantpillar to
disappear. As soon as it had passed him by, Eli unlocked his joints, released his grasp from the tree, and began the process of working the kinks from his arms, legs, and back. Sleeping in this upright position was putting a strain on his body, and he decided to try and find a better, more suitable arrangement going forward.
Once he could move without too much pain, he gently lowered himself from the tree and stepped onto the now-soggy soil of the jungle layer. Your mind moves in strange directions when you’re on a march, and Eli had thought about and named each of the four layers of the Cerbian planet: bird, jungle, dim, and surface. Each layer seemed to have its own ecological system, determined, no doubt, by the amount of sunlight each received. He didn’t know if the flora of the planet existed on multiple layers, but at least some of the fauna—the giantpillars and the rat-pigs, specifically—seemed to move between them at will. He’d noted an especially large giantpillar moving down a tree toward the dim layer yesterday, so the creatures traveled between at least three of the planet’s layers.
There was so much they didn’t know about this planet and here he was getting a crash (pun intended) course on the subject. He recorded audio notes on items of interest—the strange whisperings of the day before were an example—and he made an occasional vid to document what he was learning. If—when—he was rescued, those who might be posted here, or who might want to learn about the planet, would have his personal account to study. That was his hope, anyway.
But those things were far from his mind at the moment. Right now, all Eli was thinking about was how to capture, test, and store the rain that poured down. It wasn’t a light rain. No, it was falling in sheets now, and he directed all of his attention to the task. Testing the water was the easy part. His suit had survival capabilities and every soldier knows the first step in long-term survival is having water. Without water, all the food, weapons, and ammunition in the world wouldn’t keep you alive for long. So the Alliance engineers had included a rudimentary but functional water testing and filtration system in case the rangers ever found themselves stranded in a situation just like this one.
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