Project Columbus: Omnibus

by J. C. Rainier

  “That’s all we’ll need, if it works.”

  That’s all we’ll need to let the others know we’re here.

  She stretched her arm out and her fingers brushed the knobs and switches on the radio control panel. James Vandemark was off scavenging equipment from the crashed workshop pod that he believed would bring the dead radio on the craft back to life. His plan relied on generating enough wind power to power the circuitry, but after his first mission to the wreckage of the workshop, he was bursting with enthusiasm.

  Dad, she thought. He’ll want to know that I’m alright.

  “What do you think?” Haruka asked.

  Troy shrugged. “Leight says this thing isn’t worth its weight in scrap anymore. Hell, how many times have the lower levels of the pod been flooded?”

  Four.

  Haruka shook her head and walked away. “It’s better to try, at least.”

  “Is it?” he retorted. “You’ve been so stuck on getting Maria to join the work force, but you’ve taken away James. Call me crazy, but that’s not an even trade.”

  She stopped at the edge of the ramp. She leaned on the wall just inside, and looked back over her shoulder. “It’s not a trade. You know as well as anyone that I have to prioritize where resources go. That includes people.”

  Troy crossed his arms and scoffed. “Fine. You want it blunt? I’ll give it blunt. Fixing the damned radio is a waste of time. I’m with you on needing to grow crops, but it would sure as hell make me feel better if someone here knew what would grow, instead of just throwing a bunch of seeds in the ground and praying.”

  She whirled around and snarled at him, “And what am I supposed to do? Magically pull a farmer out of the air?”

  “There had to be some on the ship,” he snapped back. “You said the people on board were balanced out. A little bit of everything. So there’s got to be someone out there that’s got the knowledge we need.”

  “Even if I knew who all survived, I couldn’t tell you who did what back on Earth.” She pointed her finger at the open cockpit door. “The computer on this rust heap wouldn’t tell me either. I’d need Raphael’s mainframe to tell you that. Even if we found more survivors, we might not get what we’re looking for. And then we’re just stretching ourselves even thinner for food.”

  “What about that other camp that you told me about?”

  Haruka lost what little control she had left over her patience. “What about them? They’re dozens of miles away, and we have no radio. Unless you’re planning on walking all the way there, we have no way to talk to them and find out. And let’s not mention how ridiculous that idea is, since we have no clue where exactly they are.”

  “They know where we are.”

  “Yeah. In case their camp fails. I thought we’d be in a better position by now, but I guess I underestimated how deep of a hole we’re dug into right now.”

  “Well, I’d ask you to send out a scout to find out where they are and talk to them, but I guess I know what the answer is going to be.”

  “That I’d rather have my precious few scouts looking for saws and shovels for you?”

  Troy gave her a hard glare for a minute, but then he relaxed his shoulders and nodded. “You’re right. I suppose we have to pay for everything we do somehow.”

  “We do,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “So let’s make the most of what we have. Come on, it’s chow time.”

  She led him out of the pod and back to the winding path up the hill to the village. They were about to begin the ascent when Haruka heard a rustling in the bushes a few feet off the path, and caught a flash of brown out of the corner of her eye. In an instant she drew her pistol and flipped off the safety.

  “What is it?” Troy asked, frozen in place.

  “Shh.”

  Haruka inched forward and trained the weapon on the pepperine shrub. Another flash of brown was visible through a gap in the leaves. She craned her neck and put her foot another step forward. The animal burst through the back of the brush with a squawk, sending Haruka leaping back, her heart pounding.

  “What the hell?” she gasped as the animal scurried away in a feathered blur.

  “Was that…”

  “I think it was.” She holstered her weapon.

  “I am so going to make the most of that,” Troy grinned.

  “Capture them. As many as you can.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  The animal stasis pod must have crashed near here. How else could that chicken have gotten here?

  Calvin McLaughlin

  21 April, Year of Landing, 07:45

  Two miles west of Michael landing site

  “This is nuts,” Cameron muttered under his breath as he plunged the shovel into the water and stroked. He had traded his usual flight suit in for a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt borrowed from the wardrobe of another colonist. Without his sidearm or uniform, Sergeant Drisko looked like any one of a dozen young men that you could find in a crowd anywhere on Earth.

  The bow of the raft slowly rotated downstream. Cal edged farther forward and dug his shovel into the water over and over, digging hard into the river with his makeshift paddle.

  “What part of it? Dayton’s plan or trying to cross the river on these toothpicks?”

  He checked his balance with one hand as the tethered logs creaked and rocked unexpectedly. Their forward momentum slowed, so they paddled in rhythm. The cumbersome raft moved faster, but was also being carried downstream by the current. They were still two hundred feet from shore, and the flow was clearly too strong for them to make their original landing spot on the far bank.

  “Never mind,” he grunted as he dug in over and over. “I answered my own question.”

  There was a ripple ahead in the water, which Cal recognized as something just under the surface. Whether it was a rock or a tree limb did not matter, they needed to navigate around it. Doing so forced them to point their craft even farther downstream. He looked up at the looming gray hull of Gabriel.

  “We need to hurry up,” Cameron said. “We can’t let them see us cross.”

  Cal gritted his teeth. “I know, I know.”

  The raft neared the bank. Cal scanned the edge of the water for a safe place to set the raft ashore, but they had drifted several hundred feet downstream of the sand bar they had picked out. The shore was dotted with large boulders and snags from felled trees, and the bank rose like a cliff, darkening the churning waters that lay below.

  “We have to go farther down, Cam.”

  “Are you nuts?” he shouted. “They’ll see us!”

  “Take your pick then,” Cal snarled. “They see us or we bash against the rocks and take a swim. Either way you’re going to have a bad day. I’d rather be dry than drowned.”

  Cal didn’t let the sergeant make a choice. He thrust his shovel into the water and backpedaled, sending the front of the raft careening downstream. The momentum of the craft and the swift water hurtled them along the river, jostling them and pitching them around. Cal sunk lower onto his ankles and steadied himself as he sought a safer landing zone. His efforts were rewarded with a broad shore of rolled gravel and small stones.

  “There,” he pointed.

  They steered the soaked raft toward the shore and let the river carry them near their new target. They then slowed down with careful maneuvering, and slid onto the shore with a soft crunch. They jumped from the raft and pulled it onto the bank far enough that they were satisfied the river would not carry it away, and then hid the shovels under the slightly elevated front edge.

  The bank rose less sharply here, and it was almost devoid of trees. A few feet farther down, the trees disappeared completely, only to pick up again three hundred feet downstream. They were in the open, and an easy target to pick out for anyone who might be watching. Cal reached to his waist, but the familiar bulk of his pistol was not present; Colonel Dayton had ordered them to go to the Gabriel settlement unarmed, so as to minimiz
e suspicions as they attempted to contact Darius Owens. The absence of his protection left him with a distinct feeling. Naked.

  “Great, we’re here,” Cameron whispered sarcastically. “Now what?”

  “We find Owens.”

  “Good plan. Know where he is?”

  “Not a clue, but I’ve got a good idea how to find out.”

  “Oh, that just makes it all better.”

  Cal crept up the bank and peered over the edge. Stumps marred the ground between the scattered trees, and felled logs were piled up in a wide clear cut, guarded by a pair of bright yellow construction machines. No sign of their operators could be found, so the infiltrators quickly made their way west into the woods and then south toward the encampment. Cal’s pulse raced as they covered the ground. He was not sure of how the camp was laid out, or what would happen when they ran into one of the colonists.

  Their mission, as laid out by Colonel Dayton, was to infiltrate the Gabriel camp by any reasonable means and attempt to contact Darius Owens. If such contact could not be made, they were to try to find any possible sympathizers or allies that might be able to relay a message to him. There was a concern that Cal and Sergeant Drisko would be discovered by Colonel Eriksen or someone loyal, in which case they were not to resist.

  Not to resist. Just give up.

  The uncertainty behind what might happen was deeply unsettling. Colonel Eriksen might simply give them a slap on the wrist and a message for Dayton, or he could imprison them. Even darker ideas dwelt within his mind, but Cal did his best to avoid them.

  “Remind me again why I’m here?” Cameron complained as they came around the shoulder of a hill and saw the massive encampment spread out in front of them.

  “Because Josephson is still beat to hell, and Dayton thinks the rest of his senior officers would be recognized,” Cal replied. “Come on, this way.”

  Cal turned them toward a low rise just north of the ship where a large tent sat, a long line of people trailing from it like a giant serpent on an equally impressive rock.

  “Are you kidding? There’s too many people there,” Cameron complained.

  “Exactly. Best way to blend in. Now act natural when we get there. And shut up if you can’t.”

  “Fine, let’s get this over with and get home.”

  Cal led them into the thick of the camp. He looked over his shoulder after passing each of the first few rows, looking for anyone who might be pursuing them. Though it gave him a momentary sense of being James Bond, he soon realized how ridiculous he must have looked when Cameron smacked him on the back of the head.

  “Cut it out, stupid.”

  “I was just…” Cal sighed. “Never mind.”

  They then took a meandering route through the sea of green canvas and up the hill, where they formed up at the back of the line. Cal’s skin began to crawl and his hands grew clammy. Still, no one ahead of them in line gave them so much as a second glance. A few more colonists formed up behind them, but again Cal and Cameron were given no more attention than they would have expected in the same line back home. The crowd slowly moved forward as breakfast was served to all who waddled through the double file line. The unmistakable odor of reconstituted eggs soon was upon them. Cal put his fingers to his nose for a second to block the stench as his already upset stomach turned sour.

  Don’t puke. Don’t puke.

  He was able to hold back, and finally came to the head of the line. A stout man with a weathered face and overly perky expression greeted them with a coffee stained smile.

  “Ready for another day in paradise, my friends?” he asked.

  Cal took a plate from the neat stack on the end of the table next to the cook station. He smiled and replied, “Every day I live and breathe.”

  The cook jabbed his long metal spoon into a tray of eggs and drew out a heap, which he slopped onto Cal’s plate. “So, are you on detail today, or are you going to watch the trial?”

  They’re holding the trial? Crap, did Dayton wait too long?

  “Don’t know yet. We haven’t seen our boss today, and I can’t find him. Maybe you know where he is?”

  “I know everyone, son. Who’s your boss?”

  Cal took a deep breath as the cook was speaking, trying to settle his nerves.

  “Darius Owens.”

  The cook paused and rolled his tongue around inside his cheek. He nodded. “Yeah, I know where. Come on with me.” He turned and shouted to someone behind him who was cleaning dishes. “Karl, I need to step out for a sec. Can you finish up here?”

  The lumbering dishwasher took his place at the serving station, and the cook motioned for Cal to follow. He did, with Cameron at his heels. They walked about twenty feet from the tent, and then he stopped and turned around, leaving the two with their backs to the kitchen. The cook leaned around them to take one more look, then his smile disappeared in favor of a snarl.

  “Don’t fuck around with me, kid,” he said in a low, grave tone. “You’re not from around here, and you’re poking around somewhere you don’t belong.”

  “Back off, old man,” Cameron said as he took a step forward. “If it wasn’t for the lieutenant coming to us, we’d have stayed on our side of the river. I don’t see why it’s any of our business to poke around here when your colonel broke his word and left us alone. You guys should have been left to rot.”

  “Watch your tongue, soldier,” he retorted. “He’s not my colonel. And Owens isn’t an officer anymore. If you’d actually talked to him you’d know how he wanted you to contact him. Give me one good reason not to snap both of your necks right here.”

  “A bug in the computer,” Cal interrupted. The cook looked at him, a twitch of shock cracking the hard façade he wore. “He said he knew of a bug in the computer that would let us leave him messages.”

  The cook took a step back and nodded. “It’s too bad he couldn’t tell you why that hasn’t worked. Now that I know you’re from Michael, and not Eriksen’s skulks, I can tell you the obvious. Mr. Owens was a witness for the trial, so he’s going to be there. I wouldn’t go there if I were you, though. Too dangerous.”

  “Why?” Cal asked.

  “Are you hard of hearing or something, son?” the cook growled. “Besides the fact that you two probably stand out like a pair of weasels in a henhouse, Mr. Owens has found out that Colonel Eriksen has stashed away a squad of goons somewhere near the camp. No one has seen them, and no one knows what they’re up to. The fact that Darius’s contact inside the ship can’t account for them scares the living bejesus out of me, and it should scare you too.”

  “He’s right, Cal,” Cameron interjected. “We shouldn’t be here any longer than we have to be. We know we can’t contact Owens directly right now, so it’s time to go.”

  “Just a minute, Cam,” Cal said as he laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What do you know about the trial? What’s happened?”

  The cook picked at the food particles that clung to his apron. “Well, I heard that the defense attorney did a complete end run around the law, and is trying to get the jury to basically declare us as an independent nation.”

  “What good does that do?” Cameron asked.

  “If we’re not Americans anymore, then we can’t try Kimura.”

  “Smart,” Cal commented. “Will it work?”

  “If what I’ve heard around the grill is accurate, he might have pulled it off. Not everyone is happy, though,” he sighed. “I’ve heard a few folks grumbling about how it doesn’t matter what the end result of Doctor Kimura’s actions were, they’re with the colonel; send a clear message.”

  Cameron shrugged. “I don’t care what he did either. I just want to get this over with.”

  “Then join the other sheep, kid,” the cook sneered. “Just because you’re Dayton’s men doesn’t mean you should be any less thankful for what he did.”

  “I’m not one of Dayton’s men,” Cal corrected. “And I do care. I owe it to my father to do this. Is the trial almos
t over?”

  “Will be today. They should be giving the verdict in an hour or so. See the crowd at the back of the ship?”

  Cal looked at the massive sleeper ship that dominated the low terrain. At its rear the ramp was down, and a crowd had already gathered. He estimated around three hundred were already gathered, and more were streaming in by the second.

  “That’s where it’s all been going on. That’s where our friend is.” The cook crossed his thick arms across his stained apron. “Will that satisfy your commander’s curiosity?”

  “It will, thank you,” Cameron replied.

  The cook nodded. “Get out of here, then. Now is not the time for you to be here.”

  Cal and Cameron nodded and headed down the flank of the hill. Cal looked to his left and watched as the crowd swelled at the rear of the ship. He paused for a moment as he thought about the gravity of what was to happen in just a short time.

  The verdict is being delivered today, he thought. Colonel Dayton will want to know what happened.

  “Come on, let’s get back to the raft.” Cameron tugged at Cal’s sleeve.

  “No, we need to listen to the verdict.”

  Cameron’s eyes opened wide and his jaw slacked. “No. No, that’s insane. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re asking for there? Didn’t you hear what that guy had to say?”

  “I did.” Calvin started walking directly toward the rear of the ship. His heart beat furiously within his chest, threatening to tear him apart from inside. “But we need to know.”

  Cameron hurried ahead and turned around, walking backward in front of him. “No. We’re going back to the raft, now. That’s an order.”

  “You can’t order me, Cam.”

  “I outrank you.”

  “Only because I have no rank. Who did Dayton put in charge?”

  “Are you serious?” his friend whispered hoarsely.

  “Yup. Go back to the raft if you want, or stay with me and watch my back. I’m going either way.”

  “Thanks for giving me a choice in the matter,” Cameron grumbled as he followed Cal down the grassy hill.