by E. M. Peters
John stayed on the ground – a large man climbed in after Patrick in his stead. He had a tattoo that ran from his shoulder, up his neck and to the back of his skull. Patrick knew at once this man’s special skill was to ensure Patrick did not try to escape. A woman Patrick had not met was keying commands into the cockpit’s glass display. The cargo hatch closed and finally Patrick could hear his own thoughts again.
“Hi,” the woman waved from where she was but didn’t look back. “I’m Maria. Try anything funny and Anthony back there will toss you out the back hatch. Okay?”
“Okay…” Patrick answered tentatively. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“I hear you’re a has-to-see-it-to-believe-it guy.” Maria went on. The Runner lifted off the ground as she spoke – she didn’t seem to have any trouble multitasking.
“Do you blame me?” Patrick wanted to know. He could see the woman’s reflection in the bubbled windscreen of the vehicle – her dark black hair was pulled back, and he could tell she was young – too young. “How old are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want to know the qualifications of my pilot.”
“I’ll be 17 soon, I think. I might be already. We haven’t exactly worked out a Colony Alpha calendar yet.”
“What?” Was all Patrick could muster in his shock.
“Relax, everyone says I’m a natural and it’s not like we’ve got a bunch of choices. Whoever said video games were good for nothing?” She asked and the Runner accelerated so quickly, Patrick had to grab the nearest handhold to stay upright.
Patrick was white-knuckled for the duration of the trip, which was thankfully short given Maria’s chosen speed. The craft slowed after a time and the woman turned in her seat to address her passengers, “This is the closest we’re willing to get right now.” She explained. “I’m going to take her up, and you’ll be able to see through the cameras.”
She didn’t wait for them to answer. She keyed on the command and Patrick felt a wave of nausea at the sudden ascension. Even Anthony seemed less than pleased with the quality of the ride - although Patrick considered that he always wore a scowl.
“Here’s the long shot,” Maria said, pointing at the glass console to her left. She maximized the image on so Patrick could see. He steadied himself and leaned over the pilot’s seat to see the image. It was Colony One, as he’d left it. He felt relief wash over him at the sight – it wasn’t exactly home but it was the closest he had.
“I’m going to magnify,” Maria said she her fingers flew over the glass console.
The image blinked into a closer shot. Patrick could see passengers outside of Colony One, but not many. There were scorch-marks on the ground that extended for hundreds of meters behind the ship.
“And one more time,” the woman said before the image blinked to another. The angle showed the aft part of the ship. The cargo hold ramp was down. Maria panned the angle and Patrick saw it. Suddenly, his mouth was dry and his stomach contracted forcefully. Offset from the ship there was a long line of raised ground. The fact it could be seen at this distance, even with magnification was staggering to Patrick.
He was shaking his head before he could form words, “That can’t be. All our passengers were accounted for when we landed. There could not be that many deaths in such a short time.” He spoke the words, trying to reason with himself.
He wanted Maria or Anthony to argue with him. He wanted to be able to feel like this was a trick. They said nothing and he was left with the weight of what he was seeing to bear himself.
“There has to be an explanation.” He said, his voice a harsh whisper.
23
Day 17 on Colony Alpha
Ndale paced the length of the Captains quarters where he had taken up residence. The entry hatch was double-reinforced; the room spacious and private with a dedicated bathroom remote from the rest of the passenger quarters. It was the perfect place to squirrel away all his stock and the best way to ensure his overall safety. He was certain many thought it uncouth to take over a dead woman’s quarters – but they didn’t object enough to deny him their support as leader. Many were placated – for now – by having Marcus, Alexa and Javier buzzing around, creating an illusion of action.
But Alexa had made a ripple in the relative calm. She had come to him and explained the nature of the Captain’s last minutes. She had burdened him with the knowledge of the true mission of Colony One and he did not appreciate the weight of uncomfortable truth being put on him.
He knew she, Jia and Luca were good people – he knew a mark from a mile away, and good people made good marks. He also knew it would be impossible to keep the discovery a secret, despite the natures of those who knew. He had seen Luca the day after hearing the news and saw the light that had disappeared from the man’s eyes. Others would notice. Questions would be asked. No secret lasted forever. There was no bigger threat to survival than hopelessness. No better way to fold civility in half than scarcity, hunger and desperation.
And then there was his anger – Ndale felt it under the surface. The anger of the death sentence he’d received. But he was not the type to accept such a fate. Some might have said being born in South Africa was a death sentence – but he had thrived, and he would thrive here, too.
The sound of a hand slapping against the entry hatch was dull and inadequate for its purpose, but Ndale noticed in the heavy silence of his own thoughts and called out that it was okay to enter.
He knew at once who his caller was when he saw the flash of orange. Bob stepped through the hatch, followed by Alexa.
Ndale smiled easily despite his troubled thoughts, “Anivashak, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked before shooting Alexa a wary glance – she was getting a reputation for delivering bad news. She was busily thinking that he was a born politician. Bob also glanced at Alexa.
“Go ahead and tell him what you told me,” she encouraged.
He nodded and returned his gaze to Ndale, “I have been looking over the ships inventory, in terms of the planting material we were shipped with.” The monk wiped his brow with a tattered orange cloth that was likely a robe in its former life. His clothing was dusty and his skin darker. Ndale had seen him walking around the ship often, poking sticks into the soil and digging small holes. He didn’t question it – whatever got people through their days. “It is not… as expected.”
“How so?” Ndale wondered aloud but had a brewing suspicion he already knew.
“The seeds are not quite as plentiful as we might hope for, and some crops will simply not be tolerant to the conditions of this world.” He answered honestly, despite Ndale’s growing look of displeasure. “That said, there are some that I believe I can cultivate both inside and outside of the ship.”
Surprise flashed over Ndale’s features.
“Bob has a background in farming,” Alexa supplied. She had recalled this from her drunken conversation with the Monk. It was why she asked him to take on the task, and was grateful for his choice to join the mission in the first place. Farming was not a skill many possessed on Earth and the fact they had someone aboard who could help was against all odds. Colony One was supposed to supply the cargo – the scientists and engineers that were supposed to come before them were in charge of implementation.
Vaguely, Ndale wondered why they had sent them with seed crops anyway if they were expected to die so quickly. He and Alexa shared a look that indicated they might be having similar queries. If Bob noticed, he did not comment.
“That sounds like good news,” Ndale answered tentatively.
“Yes,” he nodded his agreement. “There’s only one problem. The crops will need a great deal of water, and we have only a finite supply until we find other sources, or it rains.” They didn’t even know if rain was a thing that happened on this planet, Ndale thought. That didn’t seem promising. “Until power is restored, we’re unable to reclaim any water we’re using right now. We could reduce the amount
we attempt to grow, but as I’m sure you know, that may cause other problems.”
It was Ndale’s turn to nod along. If there was even a hint at inequality in terms of food supply, they’d be looking at a more complex issue than how to find water. As terrible as it was, the reduction in Colony One’s population had made rationing easier – but that wouldn’t last forever.
“If we plant here, we’ll limit our options if we find a better place,” Alexa pointed out. “Which is why I recommended that we forget about the soil and set up a hydroponics system in-ship.”
“That is certainly an option, but what we can grow will be limited,” Bob added. “Not to mention it is questionable if we have what we’d need to build it.”
“What could we grow inside?” Ndale asked.
“We have seeds for cucumbers, broccoli, various kinds of beans and spinach.” Bob answered. “Once we start growing, we can cultivate more seeds. The water, however…” he trailed off.
“Alright,” Ndale nodded once – firmly. He’d made a decision. “Change of priorities,” he addressed Alexa. “I need you to refocus your search on water instead of land. Let’s build rain barrels just in case we get lucky for once. Bob, let’s set up in ship. Move out anyone still left in the green section to purple or blue – it’s closest to the water reservoir. Anything you need, you tell me, you got it?” He leveled his eyes with Bob. “This is the top priority, and a lot of folks – a lot of hungry folks – are going to be happy to hear about it.” He turned to Alexa again, “See if Jia can access the ship’s manifest and find anyone who was employed in production zones that had any construction or pluming backgrounds and get them on the project.” He paused and turned to rub his head which was fuzzy with hair filling in. He had been too busy to shave over the past week. “I’m going to have to tell Javier we have to ration the water even more,” he murmured.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” Alexa commented with a smirk.
Ndale spun and arched an eyebrow at her. She opened her mouth to answer his unspoken question when heavy footfalls forced the trio’s attention to the entry hatch.
Demetri appeared in the gap, breathless. “Someone, coming,” he said between labored breathes and pointed towards the aft section of the ship.
The three shared a look and Alexa was the first to push passed Demetri and run hard towards the loading ramp – an entire ship’s length away.
ɸ ɸ ɸ
One of Marcus’ training units had spotted a moving dot in the distance. A small group formed and strained their eyes to watch it as it grew slightly larger, bobbing up and down, until eventually it was determined it was coming closer.
Voices shouted out that someone was coming and the small group grew larger and larger as the passengers of Colony One shuffled restlessly around the ramp like frantic ants with no place to go. No one dared stray too far from the ship.
Marcus commanded calm, “Be alert!” he shouted over the speculating voices. The figure in the distance was slow, and as it neared, showed a weary limp. “But vigilant and be still,” his voice rose up in a commanding growl. It worked, for the most part – his training units responding first, and the remaining crowds following suit.
Alexa made it to the edge of the loading ramp nearly completely out of breath. Bob and Ndale trailed her by a sizeable distance, Demtri closing the gap faster than they despite his earlier sprint. The woman lifted a hand to shade her eyes and squinted at the figure as it approached. The crowd at the base of Colony One stood, suspended by both wonder and worry. Alexa could tell immediately that the figure growing ever closer was injured or exhausted or both. She scanned the crowd with shock and a ping of outrage that they chose to stand idle.
She noticed a crowd member held a canteen and marched down the ramp to snatch it from their loose grip. There was a brief sound of protest, but Alexa didn’t slow. She kept marching, through the crowd and beyond to meet the figure emerging from the rocky terrain.
“Lieutenant,” Marcus shouted, anger vibrating in his tone. “Get back here now.” He ordered.
The woman ignored him.
He cursed as his training units murmured to one another.
Alexa’s eyes focused on the figure as it became clearer. It was a man – filthy from head to toe. He limped towards her without recognition in his gaze. She held up her hand to him, “Are you injured?” She called out to him, her pace picking up into a light jog to close the distance between them quicker.
He didn’t answer.
She repeated the question, louder.
She could make out his face now – what was visible through his beard and the layer of dust. There was a vague feeling of familiarity but she could still not place it. “Do you need help?” She tried to engage him again.
The man shook his head and grunted a ‘No’ but his eyes locked onto the canteen. She held it out so he could see it better.
Arms length away, Alexa finally realized why this wandering man was familiar to her, “First Officer Reid?” She wondered with clear shock in her tone. She immediately recalled the orientation module where his picture rotated, with ‘First Office Patrick Reid’ written in the caption. She felt her heart speed at the realization, “Patrick!” she affirmed and almost ripped the cap off the canteen.
The man’s eyes were distant, but snapped into focus as the cap came off the canteen. He took it readily when she offered it to him and felt himself sink to his knees as he upturned the vessel and took in large, greedy gulps.
Alexa knelt in front of him and put her hands on either side of his head – a happy embrace but also to ensure what she was seeing was real. “I can’t believe it,” she said aloud and tried to catch a glimpse of his eyes to detect any damage or sign he might be on the verge of heat stroke.
Patrick relented on his thirst so he could breathe, and then finished gulping what had been in the canteen. When it was empty, he wiped his mouth with his dusty sleeve and finally focused on Alexa. “Me, either,” he agreed. His eyes slid passed her and towards Colony One. An audience watched their every move.
“Are you okay?” Alexa asked, running her hands down his arms to check for wounds. She noticed the bandage around his forearm and was beginning to peel it back when he pulled his arm away.
“Where’s the Captain?” He wanted to know.
The half-smile Alexa had been wearing faded. “Come on,” she pulled him to his feet. “Let’s get you onboard and cleaned up so I can check you out.”
He complied like a specter bound with an object that it was obligated to follow. Alexa had a dozen questions she wanted to ask, but didn’t. She knew better than to bombard a man in shock from exhaustion – getting him through the crowd of people would be a big enough ordeal as it was.
She held up a hand as she approached the clutch of Colony One passengers, “It’s our co-pilot!” She called out to them. “It’s okay!”
Marcus stepped apart from the group. “Stop right there,” he instructed. Alexa did not comply until he made a gesture and a group broke off to flank the pair, encircling them before she could think to back away.
“Marcus,” Alexa tried not to growl the man’s name. “It’s Patrick.” She explained in a tone that indicated she didn’t need to explain. “He needs to be medically evaluated, and rest.”
“Who is this?” Patrick’s voice cracked as he asked.
“He could be one of them,” Marcus countered.
Alexa scoffed, “Get Luca. Get Javier. They both know this man.” Both had worked with the Captain and co-pilot to coordinate rationing.
Marcus stared at her for several moments, as if willing her to fold to his control. This was the first test of his leadership and she was ruining it with her little stunt. Finally, his gaze broke and he turned his head to address one of his trainees, “Find them.” He instructed and the man nodded curtly before snaking his way through the crowd to begin his search. “He doesn’t go anywhere until we get some verification.” He informed Alexa.
“I ask
ed who that is,” Patrick said in a stronger voice. He pulled away from Alexa’s supportive grip to point at Marcus. “I don’t remember you.”
“Why would you? I understand our co-pilot never left the cockpit or his special quarters.” Marcus countered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patrick asked, feeling strength steadily returning to him. He was acutely aware of the weight that pressed against the small of his back. Colony Three did not have much, but one of the things they did have was a flair gun. They had given it to him when they dropped him off a few kilometers away from Colony One and told him what direction to walk towards. “And where is the Captain? Send for her!”
Silent fell over the group and Patrick knew immediately something was wrong. “Where is she?” He asked in a smaller voice.
Alexa reached out and her fingers brushed his shoulder until he pivoted away from her, “I’m sorry,” she said in a soft voice. “But we lost the Captain.”
Patrick’s reaction was guttural and involuntary as his body responded to the news. He had convinced John that he would infiltrate Colony One, but the truth was he hadn’t made up his mind. He wanted to hear the Captain’s account of what had happened – he could not picture the optimistic, sweet, kind-hearted Skylar being able to lie to him, or have any part in a mass-grave at the doorstep of Colony One. The realization that the mass grave held a place for her was devastating.
Outwardly, Patrick remained stock still as he processed the information – as his mind clicked all the things he had experienced and been told into place. As he swallowed down the feeling of acid in his throat, he only blinked at Alexa, whose look of concern was only growing.
“Dead.” Patrick finally said.
Alexa nodded solemnly.
“Who killed her?” He asked pointedly.
She began shaking her head, “It was an accident…”
“Who killed her?!” His words came out in a raspy scream. The circle around them shuffled in place – the whole mass of passengers moving as one like heckles on a wild animal.