by J. N. Chaney
A burly laugh filled the hall and echoed into Terry’s room, followed shortly by the stomping of someone coming his way. He watched the archway as the Man in Red popped his head through the gap and gasped delightfully upon seeing him. “Obovi!” shouted the stranger, chuckling. “Obovi oc norc!”
Terry stared blankly, saying nothing. Didn’t he realize Terry couldn’t understand him?
The man pulled the stool close to the bed and plopped down, sending a loud thud throughout the house. “Bfa?” He pointed at Terry.
“Bfa?”
The man slapped his chest. “Ludo.”
“What?”
“Lu-do!” he bellowed, hitting himself a second time. “Ju loji er Ludo.” He grinned.
Terry paused. “Is Ludo your name?” He pointed to him. “Ludo?”
The Man in Red chuckled and smacked his chest three times.
Okay, so your name is Ludo. Terry pointed at his own face. “Terry.”
Ludo repeated the word slowly under his breath with a thoughtful expression. “Terr-ee. Terr-ee. Terry.”
Terry stared at Ludo with disbelief. Was this really how first contact with alien life was supposed to happen? He had watched a few science fiction vids as a kid—leftover films from before the Jolt. Some dealt with close encounters, space exploration, making first contact. They made it seem so calculated and methodical, like there was some sort of guidebook for situations like this. Most of them ended with a massive intergalactic war, but a few never made it so far.
“Terry Terry Terry,” said Ludo. He laughed and smacked his chest again.
“You got it,” said Terry, knowing his words meant nothing.
“Terry,” said Ludo. He motioned behind him to the hall. “Hannab.”
“Hannab?” asked Terry.
“Terry hannab Ludo.” He stood and faced the door, took three steps, and returned to his original position. “Terry hannab Ludo.”
“You want me to go with you?”
“Hannab,” said Ludo, rather insistently.
“Okay,” said Terry.
Despite not knowing English, Ludo seemed to understand. He led Terry through the hall, passing four other rooms along the way, each with an open doorway. Two of them appeared to be bedrooms—each with a bed, chest, and several mats on the floor. The second bedroom was smaller than the first with a handful of blocks scattered at the base of a much smaller bed.
The third room contained assorted chests. A table stood nearby holding several tools. A few of them had metal tips, but didn’t look like weapons. Were they for farming?
In the fourth section, Terry saw a large stone with fire in it, crackling and wheezing behind a thin grate. A boy stood nearby, the same one Terry had seen playing outside before the attack. Next to him, some raised slabs held a variety of plants. The child was smashing one of them with a stone. He looked at Terry for a moment, smiled, and quickly returned to his work.
Ludo brought Terry to the largest room in the house: the foyer. It was similar in design to the other domes he’d explored, but while the others had couches, chairs, tables, and even decorative art, this one only had cushions, rugs, and a small fire pit in the center.
A few meters from the dome’s entrance, the woman stood watching them. She had blue eyes and a small nose, with an almost regal composure. She wore a red gown with blue patterns on it, and a metallic headdress which kept her bald head and strange tattoos completely hidden.
Ludo looked at the woman and his voice went surprisingly soft. “Jou bi ioc?” he said to her.
She nodded.
Ludo smiled and went to the fire pit and sat on the rug next to it, motioning to the other side. “Rec,” he said.
Terry joined him on the floor. “Does rec mean sit?” he asked.
Ludo grinned. He retrieved the lid of the metal pot and took a large spoonful of the brown liquid inside, pouring it into a bowl and handing it to Terry. He then took a second one and drank from it, letting out a whoop of satisfaction as he smacked his lips.
Terry took the hint and drank from the bowl. It tasted surprisingly similar to eggs with a hint of sweetness—something like apples, perhaps. He wasn’t sure.
He lowered the bowl from his face and smiled politely at Ludo. “Thank you,” he told him. He drank the rest of the soup, trying not to gulp it down too quickly.
When they were finished, Ludo put the bowl to his side. “Talo!” he yelled.
Terry stiffened at the sudden call, but before he could respond the small boy appeared from behind the back wall. He approached Ludo with his arms extended and his hands flat. In both of his little palms he held a rather large knife. The hilt had several glyphs carved into it, while the blade was littered with specks of glistening stones of various colors.
Ludo took the knife, which looked rather small in his own hand, and showed it to Terry. “Rotsiq,” he said in a low, almost respectful voice.
“Rot-siq,” muttered Terry.
Ludo handed the knife to the boy and touched his forehead. The child smacked his chest and retreated from the room, passing the woman with the blue eyes as he opened the door and disappeared.
Terry watched as his new friend poured a second bowl of soup for each of them. They drank it together, and this time Terry had no problem drinking slowly. His belly was filling with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. When was the last time he’d had soup? The academy? He could no longer remember.
Ludo’s presumed wife left through the door where the boy had disappeared and closed it behind her, saying nothing. Terry wondered if she disapproved of his presence. Was she angry at him for coming into her home? Or was it customary in this society for wives to ignore guests? And what was the deal with the kid and the weird knife? Who were these people and why were they sitting in the middle of nowhere? Terry wished he could speak this stupid language so he could figure out what the hell was going on.
Ludo got to his feet and motioned for Terry to stand. “Hannab,” he told him. Follow.
He did, and Ludo led him outside. The suns had begun their descent, hovering above the horizon. Ludo led Terry around the side of the house to the edge of one of the fields. The plants reminded him of corn stalks because of how tall they were, but the resemblance ended there. They were blue and contained pieces of red vegetables, though of course he had no idea if they were really vegetables, fruit, or something else altogether. For all he knew, the red things were poison and the only edible part of the plant was the root.
Ludo grabbed a cloth sack near the base of one of the stalks and handed it to Terry. “Fanq,” he told him.
Terry looked at the bag, confused.
Ludo grabbed one of the red vegetables from its stem and placed it in Terry’s bag. “Fanq,” he repeated.
“Okay,” he said. “Holp.”
Ludo took another sack and began filling it with the red vegetables.
Terry did the same. It seemed he’d have to earn his keep here. Not that he minded. It had been a long time since he had the chance to work with someone else. Besides, the bed was nice and the food had been better than raw fruit. He would help however he could.
He took one of the red things and placed it in his bag. He wondered how long he’d be here with these people. Probably no more than a day or two. They didn’t know anything about him, and it wasn’t like they could communicate properly. If this place proved to be safe, maybe he could set up a camp nearby. He’d have to scout around, make sure he didn’t pick an exposed area. He had to be able to run if things went bad.
Terry looked at Ludo, who was nibbling on one of the plants. He might be able to make this work after all.
******
Ortego Reconstruction Outpost
April 26, 2350
Mei waited patiently for Bartholomew and John to hoist the Fever Killer into place. Tabata, Zoe, and Sophie were all standing nearby, watching in silence. Poor Bart had spent the bulk of two days working on it, only taking a fe
w hours to rest. Mei asked the others to assist where they could, but Bart wasn’t having it. He kicked everyone out except Zoe. Mei almost objected but ultimately let it go. She trusted Bart to know what he was doing.
Now came the time to see how good an engineer he truly was.
“Hold it there,” shouted Bart.
John gripped the sides of the coil with both of his bulky arms. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll just be here, hugging this stick.”
Bart rushed into his tent. A second later, Mei heard a soft crash from inside. Bart cursed, then reappeared with a drill.
“Everything alright?” asked Mei.
He grunted and went to the coil.
“Now what?” asked John, his arms still wrapped around the device.
“Hang on,” said Bart. He used the drill to pull one of the panels off the side of the coil.
“What are you doing?” asked Sophie.
Bart fumbled around with several wires inside the machine, shifting them to the side. He touched the back portion of the outer shell and snapped something into place, then grinned. “Forgot to hook a fuse back in. Close call.”
“You idiot,” snapped Zoe. “The last thing we need is for the coil to overheat.”
“No harm done,” said Bart.
Zoe glared at him.
“Alright, John,” he said. “Hold it steady.”
John nodded with a look of hesitation. “You’d better know what you’re doing.”
With his pad, Bart called up the control screen for the Fever Killer. He tapped the pad, and the coil let out a loud boom and the ground shook.
John flinched, but held on tight. “When can I let go?” he yelled, his voice distorted by the vibrations.
“Hang on,” said Bart. He tapped the pad a few times. The coil let out a loud snap, startling everyone. John seemed especially panicked. “Okay, you can let go!”
John released the machine and scurried back.
“What the hell was that?” asked Tabata. It was the first time he’d spoken in a while. Mei nearly forgot he was there.
Bart tapped the pad again, and the coil powered down. “I activated the locking mechanism for the coil. It shot a rod several meters into the ground, then expanded in nearly every direction, sort of like the roots of a tree.”
“Or a bush,” added John.
“Which is why he was holding it in place,” said Bart.
“Moving on,” said Mei. She wanted to get this show on the road. “Can we see if it works?”
Bart nodded. “Give me a second.” He tapped the pad once more, turning the coil back on. It was loud for a few seconds, but quickly shifted into a gentle hum.
“Well?” asked Mei.
Bart studied the pad. “As far as I can tell, it’s working. I don’t think we’ll know until the radiation hits it, though.”
“So we’ll have to move it,” said Sophie.
“Right,” said Bart. “It won’t do us much good sitting in the middle of our camp.”
“Why not?” asked John, frowning.
“It has to be within the radiation zone,” said Mei. “Once we’ve got the coil set up, we’ll monitor it for a while, see how it does. If we get some worthwhile results, we can put more of them up and gradually push our way forward.”
“Like an army moving the front line,” said John.
“Something like that,” said Mei.
Zoe furrowed her brow. “How are we supposed to transport this thing closer to the radiation, especially after what happened before?”
“It’ll work,” said Mei. “The radiation isn’t very strong until you’re in the heart of the Ortego complex, closer to the ruins. We can put it up near the edge of where the radiation is hitting. A normal rad suit should be enough to protect me while I get the coil into place.”
John looked at her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, waving his arms around. “I think you’ve lost enough hair for one month, lady. Let someone else handle this.”
Tabata nodded. “He’s right. Your health may have improved since your initial exposure, but your body is still recovering. Another dose of radiation could kill you.”
“Good point,” said Zoe. “There’s no way you’d be able to lift the coil on your own.”
Mei hesitated to answer. She knew they were right, but having someone else do the job could result in another accident. It could mean another Travis.
John stepped forward. “I’ll do it.”
Mei scoffed. “No.”
“Hold on,” muttered Tabata. “Lieutenant Finn’s genes are the same as yours, Doctor Curie. He’s a hybrid, so his body would be resilient enough to withstand some of the radiation. If anything happens to the suit, he should still survive as long as the exposure is marginal. Having him go makes sense, objectively.” He glanced at John. “Though, I imagine it’ll hurt, if you actually encounter such a situation.”
“I can handle it,” said John.
Mei’s heart was pounding. She pictured John on the ground, dying the same way Travis had. She didn’t know what to do.
John went to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said, as if to answer her concerns. “I risk my life for a living. This won’t be any different.”
“A gun can’t protect you from radiation,” she muttered.
Zoe cleared her throat. “I’ll monitor his suit. We’ll know he’s in danger before he does.”
John smiled. “You heard the lady. I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“If you can carry the coil on your own, I can activate it remotely from here,” said Bart.
John clasped his hands. “Great.”
Bart turned the machine off. “There’s still plenty of daylight left. If we hustle, we can get the coil moved in less than two hours.”
“Back to work, then,” said Zoe, sighing.
Everyone dispersed rather quickly, leaving Bart, John, and Mei behind.
“You gonna be okay?” asked John.
She glared at him. “I didn’t need you to step in and save me, John.”
“I know.”
“Why, then? And don’t say you’re protecting me.”
He considered her question. “Because someone has to, and it couldn’t be you. I’m the only one left.”
Her gaze fell to the ground. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, she felt a pair of thick arms wrap around her, gently squeezing her chest. John nuzzled the top of her bald head, and she felt a gush of relief.
By the time he pulled away, she no longer felt like arguing.
******
Mei watched through John’s eyes as he brought the Fever Killer to its new home, dangerously close to the edge of the irradiated zone.
He’d driven a dirt cab for half an hour, talking with her for most of the way. She considered asking him to come back, tell him to forget about the job, and they’d go home together, but the danger was real, and it wouldn’t stop because of her childish fears.
The rain came when he was halfway there, beginning with a soft patter against the cab windshield before turning hard and violent. The wind roared so loudly it sounded like a scream. A few minutes later, the storm had manifested, covering everything from the Ortego site to their camp.
John parked a quarter kilometer from where the radiation levels were at their weakest, no danger as long as he stayed in the suit.
Or maybe there was. She suddenly wasn’t sure. A dozen questions rattled in her head, giving her pause. Had she really sealed his suit properly? What if he accidently loosened it in the cab or while carrying the coil? John could be clumsy…what if he tripped and fell? A chill ran along the nape of her neck, and her tongue went dry. She smacked her lips, clearing her throat.
John opened the door of the cab and walked to the attached rear trailer. The bed was drenched with rain. He lowered the gate and snagged the coil, sliding it to the end and hoisting the tube on his shoulder.
�
�Don’t drop it,” said Bart. He was right behind Mei, peering over her shoulder. “If you do, there’s not enough time to make another.”
“Relax,” said John. “You’re acting like I haven’t done this before.”
“You haven’t,” said Mei.
He scoffed. “As far as you know.”
John lugged the Fever Killer several meters from the dirt cab, pausing now and then to reposition himself or switch shoulders. His visor showed the way, indicating which direction to head with a digital green line imposed on the screen. A set of numbers in the bottom right corner counted down the distance to the installation site. Mei had programmed in all of this, hoping to make things as easy as possible for him. Right now, the visor said he was less than two dozen meters from the spot.
He stopped, wavered slightly. A sharp whistle filled his helmet.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mei.
“The wind’s getting worse,” he said, but she could barely hear him.
“You’re almost there,” she said.
“What?”
“Can you hear me, John?” she yelled.
“Barely. Hang on!” he shouted. The whistle grew until she could no longer understand him.
Instead of talking or screaming, she pulled the keyboard out and typed a message. It appeared a second later on his visor.
KEEP GOING. ALMOST THERE.
If he said anything, she wouldn’t know. The counter on the visor indicated he was getting close. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.
He stopped a few more times, moving progressively slower as he neared the goal. The rain fell harder, and the wind blew the drops into his visor so hard they slid sideways.
There was a clap of thunder outside the tent, and several people jumped. Sophie yelped, knocking a few tools off the table she was sitting on. Bart gathered them and motioned for her to stay where she was. She nodded, chewing on a tuft of her hair, an embarrassed look on her face.
Mei kept her eyes on the monitor. John was nearly at the mark. Five meters. Three. Two.
He stopped. He seemed frozen, so she typed a quick message.
SOMETHING WRONG?
He shook his head, and the camera in the visor moved with him. He lifted the coil from his shoulder and set it on the ground. Now came the digging. He unlatched a small shovel from his side and pointed at the dirt directly before him.