People of the Sun

by Jason Parent

  The awkwardness of Matthew’s idiotic stare swayed Connor into giving the broken piece a second glance. It can’t be…

  Matthew wasted no time in reiterating the thought that had just entered Connor’s mind. “That’s a door!” he shouted, breaking their silent awe.

  “Now, Matthew, wait a second. We don’t know—”

  “Damn it, Connor. That’s a fucking door!”

  “Do you realize the implications of what you’re saying?” Connor asked. He understood them. He understood if the broken-off chunk of meteorite was a “fucking door” or hatch of some sort as Matthew suggested, then what he stared at wasn’t a meteorite at all. He and Matthew could be the first people to discover incontrovertible evidence of life beyond their planet.

  Still, his skepticism kept his enthusiasm in check. “It could be Russian,” he said.

  “You know, for a bright guy, you’re awfully stupid sometimes. Does that thing look Russian to you?” Matthew crossed his arms. “You’re the scientist, Connor. You know goddamn well that it’s a goddamn spaceship.”

  “U.F.O.,” Connor said.

  “Whatever. It’s more like a U.G.O. now.” Matthew moved closer to the purported door. Connor kept what he thought was a safe distance. He wondered just what exactly he would need to keep safe from.

  “Holy shit!” Matthew shouted. “You’re not going to believe this, but there are tracks.”

  Connor nearly stumbled over his own feet as he made his way over to Matthew. Sure enough, three sets of black, ashen footprints situated side by side led away from the crash site. They left indentations similar to cleats, but the largest of the pairings was approximately eighteen inches long. Between two pairs of footprints were two parallel grooves, each four inches thick and set about a foot apart from one another. It appeared that the owners of the footprints had left the area with something or somebody in tow.

  Connor turned his attention to the opening in the rock. Could it really be a spaceship? The hole was the size of a refrigerator with jagged edges. Connor couldn’t see into it more than four feet.

  Straining, Connor saw a small tunnel, big enough for a man to crawl into, but not to stand inside. Maybe it’s a doggy door. His giddiness made him giggle at the thought.

  The ship’s interior, what he could see of it, resembled the rock-solid surface of its outer shell. Even the tunnel’s walls were comprised of black rock. No light came from within.

  “That thing may not be from Earth,” Connor began, still unable to utter the word “spaceship” aloud. “But those footprints certainly look human, even if they belong to basketball players. I thought we were the first ones out here?”

  “We are, as far as I know,” Matthew said. “But this park is heavily camped, even as early in the year as this. And with the way this meteor thing is getting covered by local news, I wouldn’t be surprised if it brought out the curious. You don’t think some people would be stupid enough to vandalize a spaceship, do you?”

  “You’re the cop, Matt. You tell me,” Connor said. With the footprints appearing human, he presumed that if there was any alien life on the ship, it was likely still inside. As much as he wanted to enter the ship, Connor knew he’d cook faster than the turtle shell had. He sighed. He wouldn’t learn more about the craft without proper equipment. Just determining what constituted the proper equipment could take weeks.

  “Maybe the government knew about this thing all along and had some immediate response team in place,” he said.

  “What do you suppose they were dragging?” Matthew asked.

  Connor had no idea, but he wanted to find out. He bit his lower lip, trying to subdue his eagerness. “There’s only one way we’ll learn the answer to that question. Let’s follow them.”

  “I don’t know, Connor.”

  “Come on, Matt. It’ll be fun. What’s the worst that could happen? They’re probably long gone anyway.”

  “Those footprints look fresh.”

  “What’s the protocol for something like this? Should you call for backup?”

  “Connor, there is no protocol for alien spaceship crashes.” Matthew wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He stared long and hard at the vessel. Connor gave him a moment to mull it over.

  “All right,” Matthew said. “We’ll follow the tracks.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Connor knew he was smiling like a teenager who had just lost his virginity, but he didn’t care. Discovering proof of alien life was every geek’s dream, and Connor was no exception. Of course, it wasn’t a dream he had ever thought might come true. He’d not let it be spoiled by fear or caution.

  The tracks headed out of the lakebed and into the woods. Matthew and Connor followed.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Eight hours ago.

  “Our survival is out there. It has to be.” Tryst smiled as she pointed at the sky cap. Her eyes shimmered, so full of hope as they reflected the muted light from a dying world. A large incisor poked into her lower lip.

  “Your optimism is sickening,” Kazi grumbled. He was ever the cautious one. He had to be, and this time was no different. They had much to fear, too many unknowns. If the rest of the crew chose to act as though they were merely doing another test run, that was fine by him. He was too smart for that nonsense, to dismiss danger when it stared them in the face. He sneered at their stupidity as he squirmed in his seat.

  “And your negativity would have us doomed before our mission begins,” Tryst said. She nudged him playfully on the shoulder and flashed him a toothy grin that seemed to come easily. Too easily.

  “We’re going to make history,” she said. “We’re going to save this world of ours. Soon, everyone will be sharing tales of the great Kazi’s acumen—how his superior intellect proved invaluable to the mission, to survival. They’ll call you a hero, the savior of our species.” Tryst laughed. She slid her long fingers gently down his cheek.

  Kazi slapped her hand away. “This is no time for jokes.”

  “Oh, Kazi. Can’t you show a bit more enthusiasm? We are doing what none of us have ever done before.”

  “And never wanted to. What do you think is out there, Tryst? Salvation?” Kazi seethed. He looked away. “It had better be.”

  He stared through the blast shield at a cracked and barren landscape. Even inside their vessel, he could taste the red dust that covered everything. He could smell the flames and cinder. There is nothing left here for us but death.

  At least that death would not be today, tomorrow, or even soon. These fools, the Council, his so-called people… they all wanted to rush him into oblivion. That’s all that awaited them: cold, dark nothingness, an end without a new beginning.

  He glanced at Tryst. She stared back at him, her eyes wide with childlike innocence.

  Imbecile. If Kazi were in command, his rightful place, he’d beat that innocence out of her. She’d learn her place in the hierarchy, beneath his foot. How can she be jovial at a time like this? She cannot be so dimwitted that our peril escapes her. How is it that she outranks me?

  Kazi huffed. He resisted his anger, knowing that desire underlined it. “I’m merely stating that it’s premature to speak in terms of success. We haven’t a clue what is out there.”

  Tryst only smiled bigger, so big it covered half her face with four rows of double-pointed teeth, massive fangs retracted behind black gums. Her slim, sinewy lips, so colorless they were nearly transparent, curled beneath her bulbous pink globe eyes. “There’s nowhere else to go but out,” she said, chuckling. As she laughed, her small, hairless snout wiggled in a way Kazi found enticing.

  He swallowed. So beautiful, yet so irritating. He had dreamed of mating with Tryst just as often as he imagined himself strangling her. As he leered at her then, Kazi wanted to do both at the same time, to watch the life fade from her eyes as he spilled his seed inside her.

  You only want her because you cannot have her. A lie, but Kazi felt if he told himself it enough, it might replace the truth. He cr
aved her touch, her taste, her flesh against his lips, but it would never be. In addition to rank and position, Tryst was yet another desire the High Council had denied him. In its infinite wisdom, the Council had determined Kazi to be an inferior specimen, too small in stature, not exemplifying the strength and character desirous for promulgating their species. Tryst, a rare female and an even rarer beauty, was to have her choice of mate, at least of those that met the Council’s ill-conceived specifications.

  Kazi was smarter than every last one of them. He should have been awarded the prize.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Tryst averted her gaze, turning her attention toward the harrowing darkness shrouding the ceiling outside. She seemed in awe of the mysteries beyond it.

  “If we are not brave enough to take this risk,” she said, “then we are already lost.”

  “You two,” Lenyx snapped. “Focus on your duties. Tryst, make sure our course is plotted and our pathway through the fire is free from obstruction. Kazi, check the ship’s life support readings against the portable regulators. We launch as soon as we get the go-ahead.”

  And that’s her ideal mate. Not without a scoff, Kazi did as he was told. After all, Lenyx was his “superior.” Standing seven feet tall and chiseled by fanatical training, Lenyx was the Symorian male all others strove to be. His bone-white skin basked in the glow of the ship’s console, not a blemish to his perfect form. His coarse black hair, banded with rings of the finest white stone, fell like a sword down the center of his back. Large hands with long, narrow fingers worked with both power and finesse. His round snout, prominent but not overly protruding, was handsome for sure, but also hid beneath it a most ferocious set of fangs, second only to Milliken’s.

  But unlike their crew’s militant support unit, who was no doubt toiling mindlessly down in the engine room, Lenyx was no gentle giant. No, he was their methodical, undaunted, and utterly predictable leader. An effective tool of the High Council. Kazi sneered. A tool only, like the rest of us, banished to our deaths. No better.

  A finer physical specimen Lenyx surely was, but Kazi did not resent Lenyx for his brawn. Kazi resented him for his brawn and his brain. Since their youth, Lenyx received all the accolades, all the coaching and coddling, groomed for the role he now held—the Symorian who would save his kin from seemingly inevitable demise. And while Lenyx obtained adoration and advancement, others who felt themselves just as qualified were overlooked.

  Others like Kazi.

  He snarled. His lip curled up and bared a four-inch, retractable blade of bone. He’s an infinite impediment to my achievement. He may be stronger, but surely I’m smarter. The council would see that if it were not so absorbed by his illusion. He is nothing. My skills overshadow his in every way. If only I could make them known without revealing what I’ve stolen.

  Kazi simmered in his hatred. If there were some way to make him disappear…

  He shook himself from his thoughts. On Symoria, Lenyx was their champion, untouchable. But they were leaving their home. For a moment, the idea brought with it possibilities. Kazi wondered if his greatness lay somewhere beyond the cap, somewhere he would be appreciated for his intellect, praised or maybe even worshipped like the god he knew himself to be: a place where he could showcase his talents without opposition or regret.

  His breather levitated in front of him before he realized he was doing it. He snatched it out of the air and glanced at his crewmates, who were busily preparing and, thankfully, hadn’t noticed. Your time will come, Kazi. Now is not it.

  With a tap of his finger on the console beside him, Kazi encased his legs and upper torso in a quick-drying foam. He snorted at its pungent odor, but the smell dissipated quickly as the foam hardened into a partial cocoon. The encasing was supposed to be impenetrable. He hoped it would be enough should anything go horribly wrong.

  Traveling through a giant ball of fire is never a precise science. The probes had met with considerable success—unpopulated probes. The tunnel through which they were going to pass would fill with flames in a matter of seconds. Firestorms would rattle their ship, threaten to tear it apart.

  Kazi did not fear the conflagration. Their ship was molded from the same clay that walled Symoria, hardened into jagged black rock by heat and time. He suspected it would keep them safe from the flames beyond the walls. After all, he had seen to its construction, watched its sands treated until they became solid crystal, unbreakable.

  But when currents of flame bombarded them, the ship would need considerable power to push forward. The slightest deviation from course meant disaster. He’d be buried alive in their impenetrable but dysfunctional ship. Buried alive. The thought darkened his mind. He wondered which of them would go mad first.

  Wanting a distraction, Kazi searched the ship for one. At the helm, Tryst locked herself in place, the foam drying instantly over her legs. Her long hair was drawn over one shoulder, exposing her neck. Saliva pooled in the back of his throat.

  If only I had her alone and bound in place like that. I know how to make that smile vanish. Kazi’s mouth twisted with his thoughts. He pictured himself huddling close behind her, wrapping her long hair around his fingers, pulling, tearing, while she struggled helplessly. He imagined his tongue slithering along her shoulder, slowly roaming over her skin and up her neck. He smiled, dreaming about how she’d taste if he sank his teeth into her.

  Nearby, Lenyx patrolled the deck, adjusting levers, taking readings from monitors and inputting codes into the ship’s mainframe. His constant checking and rechecking distracted Kazi from his fantasy. A jealous groan escaped his mouth, and at once he despised Lenyx for having all that he wanted. He considered his blade, how he’d like to drive it deep into his commander’s back.

  Kazi glared at Lenyx, who paced the length of the ship. He wondered why Lenyx hadn’t taken his seat. Perhaps he has enough sense to be nervous. Still, he must have checked everything ten times. We’ll never be on our way if he doesn’t sit down. If we must die, we might as well get on with it.

  He tapped his gnarled fingernails on his control panel. Despite his show of frustration, his commander remained standing. Lenyx’s attention was fixated somewhere outside the ship’s massive windshield. Kazi sat melded to his post, his impatience mounting.

  At last, Lenyx stirred. “They’re removing the cap. It’s time. Make no errors. We will never have the opportunity to correct them.”

  Kazi slid his fingers along his side panel’s controls, striking all the right switches as though the task were instinctive. They had gone through so many practice runs that his simplistic tasks now required little attention. As the ship’s Environment Response Tactician, Kazi ranked below Lenyx and Tryst, with most of his responsibilities activating after launch. On board, he was responsible for powering up the engines and monitoring the ship’s air quality, tedious tasks not worthy of a Symorian of his quality, his true quality, not what those cretins on the High Council thought of him.

  After landing, should they ever land somewhere, Kazi’s work would become more difficult than that of the rest of the crew. He had to protect them against the variables, whatever nameless and faceless evils faced them at their journey’s end. From unbreathable air to hostile terrain and incompatible species, Kazi was mentally programmed to assess and classify threats and determine their team’s best response.

  The chance to study the flora and fauna of distant worlds might have appealed to most Symorians with his intellectual proclivities. But Kazi wasn’t as brave as most.

  Or as foolhardy.

  Their mission—to find food in the dead of space—had no chance of success. They were throwing a stone into the darkness and hoping it would come back. We have no proof of life beyond Symoria, this whole misadventure premised upon the whims of the High Council. Under its rule, the planet was doomed a long time ago.

  Despite their shared disdain for one another, those same council members had chosen Kazi to save them. Like it or not, they needed him. Their entire civilization ne
eded him. But were they grateful for his sacrifice? No, not for his, but only for Lenyx and Tryst’s.

  Kazi did not want to leave Symoria, no matter how bad it got. His people had exhausted their food supply—they didn’t know about his stash, and he wished to keep it that way—and stripped their rocks and soil of all their minerals. His home was a wasteland. Perhaps it was time to poke a hole in its shell. Kazi didn’t care. He wanted no part in it.

  Yet there he was, answering the Council’s call to action, placating it with phony smiles and sideways-spoken greetings. To disobey the High Council meant a slow death, buried deep within the dirt until hunger or madness took him. Though he considered whether a similar or worse fate awaited him outside the shell, his choice was simple.

  Slowly, the pressure of the launch and the shock that they were actually going through with it sent him spiraling into panic. He started to regret his choice.

  “The engines are powered,” he said. His words came out fast and loud. His eyes darted from screen to console and back again. “Everything appears to be in order.”

  All systems were operating at full capacity. Hull strength, pressure modulation, fluid power distribution—no mechanism on that ship suggested even the slightest complication. Everything was working right, yet everything somehow felt wrong.

  Kazi’s heavy breaths whistled through his grinding teeth. He clutched the sides of his chair, his knuckles bulging beneath the skin, begging to tear through. His foot tapped. The waiting was maddening. His expectations were terrifying.

  As he toiled with levers and pulleys, Kazi could sense his crewmate’s infernal enthusiasm, a certain musicality in Tryst’s every movement. He cursed silently then turned his attention back to Lenyx, hoping for a more identifiable sentiment. He got it, but watching Lenyx did little to calm his fear.

  “What is it?” Kazi asked. “What’s going on outside?”

  Lenyx wasn’t himself. His pacing and fidgeting had been indecent and had deteriorated into shambling, short-distance teleports, the best of which his feeble leader was capable. But his gaping mouth and unwavering stare were appalling. No commander should ever show fear. Lenyx couldn’t even be still. Kazi needed to know what was making him so anxious. His ears perked up when a rumbling emitted from somewhere outside the ship, soft at first, but intensifying as it reverberated through the hull. It resembled the crackle at the end of an explosion. Kazi pondered whether explosions could begin the same way.