Explorers_Beyond The Horizon

by C J Paget

  Marietta contemplates throwing herself in after the message, curious to see if she would wash up in Lagan, and if she did arrive, she wonders if the bloated forms of a pair of townspeople who were formally Nathan and Yoshiko would be there to welcome her. The impulse passes, and Marietta begins the slow walk upstream, her head filled with thoughts on what she’ll end up writing for her blog, all the while wondering if anyone will ever bother to believe a word she says about that place where all rivers end.

  THE WATER OF HAPPINESS

  by Kurt Heinrich Hyatt

  “Council for the Defense to see the prisoner.” The room was a sterile box, windowless, the only furniture a bare table and two chairs. In one corner the red eye of a camera winked. Pushing back his chair, Mast came to attention.

  A tall, aesthetic-looking officer entered. “At ease, Lieutenant, and take a seat. I’m Major Linn from the Adjutant General’s office.” He dropped a file on the table and gave Mast a long and unflattering once over. With a sigh that could either be contempt or pity, he pulled back a chair and sat down. “Well, where shall we start?”

  One of the skills Mast learned in the military was the ability to read documents upside down. Preliminary Court Martial Proceedings. Not good. Luckily, another skill was maintaining a rigid, noncommittal expression in the face of imminent catastrophe.

  Major Linn studied a folder. “Evidently, General Wojinski’s new aircar was a total loss. He really should have had insurance on it. Then we go to the debauching of Marine Captain Collin’s wife.” He glanced over the top of the folder. “Your tailfin registration was noted, by the way. I see in your dossier a long litany of past speeding fines, drunken fights at the Officer’s Club, random and mindless fornication with single and married females.”

  “Sir, let me explain about last night…”

  Linn held up a restraining hand. “I’m not finished, Lieutenant. Can I please finish?”

  Mast flushed. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “Then of course we have to consider how this will all fall back on your father.”

  There it was again. The legendary General Ulysses S. Mast, victor at the battle of Interworld, most decorated soldier in the League, died a hero’s death planting the flag on the Drog Citadel, so on and so forth.

  “With all due respect, Major,” he remarked dryly. “I’m not General Mast.”

  “All too true,” Linn agreed. “Shall we cut to the chase? The General Staff feels a public spectacle of the hero’s wastrel son would be a black eye to the entire service. Instead, they’ve decided to send you off on a mission.”

  Mast instantly caught the drift. “In other words, they’re getting me out of sight and mind for awhile, save them a little embarrassment.”

  “Succinctly put, young man. You are an embarrassment.” He smiled thinly. “But try not to think of it in those terms. Try to think of it as a chance for redemption. A final chance, I might add.”

  This was putting things in a different light. Mast felt his irritation fade. This might be an opportunity to do something on his own, to get out from under the Great One’s shadow for once and all.

  “What kind of mission do they have in mind?”

  Linn leaned back in his chair. “Terran Communications Control picked up a distress signal from the survey ship Andromeda, which disappeared on an exploration trip to the Gamma System sixty years ago.”

  “Sixty years ago?” Mast frowned. “Kind of a long time frame here for a rescue mission, don’t you think?”

  “It was an automatic signal sent when a mothership in orbit decays into a planet’s atmosphere. Evidently the crew left on a shuttle to explore the surface and never returned.” He began gathering up his paperwork. “We’ll have a further briefing when you and your companions report to headquarters this afternoon.”

  The slightly mocking smile he gave Mast was not encouraging. “My companions?” he ventured.

  “Well, we couldn’t send you off on such a vital mission without some kind of company.” The smile widened. “A star pilot and two Terran Army Rangers. I understand they’re just your type. My best guess is they’re off base in some bar as we speak, getting ready to cause trouble.”

  * * * * *

  They were sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs.

  That was the impression Sanchez had of the two Army Rangers sitting in a corner of the crowded bar. The man was about six-five, massively built with close-cropped blonde hair. The woman was petite, a dark-skinned East Indian, black hair in a ponytail. They seemed oblivious to their surroundings, brooding over a pitcher of beer.

  Studying them, Sanchez abruptly recognized their faces from pictures on the Worldcast News a few months back. They were the two who took a jetglider behind the lines during the war on New Saturn, captured the enemy General and brought him back to Terran headquarters trussed up like a turkey. They had no orders to carry out this mission. It was all their idea. He picked up his glass and walked over.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  The blonde giant appraised him for a moment then nodded to a chair. “Suit yourself,” he grunted.

  “Thanks.” Sanchez sat down, catching the dark-skinned girl’s eyes on him. He had once seen a dreen cobra at the Interworld Zoo. Those kind of eyes. “Name’s Sanchez, Airman Third Class. Got myself drafted for a little busywork mission they’re planning for the Gamma System.” Both heads jerked in his direction. He blinked. “Let me guess, you two are part of this mission?”

  The blonde took a thoughtful pull at his beer. “Real good guess. I’m Bovus and this here’s Jayashree. How’d you screw up to get picked for this joyride? Wait, let me guess, you’ve got twenty years interstellar experience and am the honor graduate from the Terran Space Academy?”

  “Actually, I just graduated,” Sanchez admitted. “Number 506 in a class of 600.”

  “More good news,” Jayashree muttered.

  “I suppose you heard about our leader’s postponed court martial?” Bovus continued.

  “I heard he was picked as the best man for the mission,” said Sanchez.

  “This mission is butt ballast. Some exploration ship disappears for sixty years and it’s ancient history. What’s really happening is Central Command is using this as an excuse to flush a load of troublemakers, and all of us are just floating around in the bowl.” He picked up the pitcher and refilled his beer.

  “Well, I don’t think of it in those terms,” said Sanchez. He was about to launch into a defense of the mission, its chances of success when he caught Jayashree studying him. Damn, she had mean eyes. Despite a scar running down her forehead, between her eyes, and ending at her chin she was, under it all, very well put together. A lean athlete’s body. The raunchy love song ended on the overhead speakers and segued into a Terran Marine ballad.

  Sanchez looked nervously about. “Do you guys notice where you’re at right now?

  “Yeah, we’re killing time until we have to report in at 1500 hours. So?”

  “You’re in a bar frequented by Terran Marines. They don’t like army types, especially Rangers, hanging around their watering holes.”

  As if on cue a shadow fell across the table. A hulking Marine rested his knuckles beside their beer pitcher. He glanced around with a smirk. “How’s it going, blondie. Say, I was wondering if you’d mind me asking your girlfriend for a dance?”

  Bovus leaned back in his chair. “Sorry, jarhead. She only dances with men.”

  The Marine’s smile evaporated. “Is that so?” He turned to Jayashree. “So how about you, sugarbowls? You another smart-mouth like your buddy?”

  She stared up at the newcomer. “I think it would be a good idea for you to leave before something very bad happens to you.” Her voice was a snake slithering over dry grass.

  “Oh yeah? And how’d you get that scar?” he snorted. “I’ll bet its some kind of birth defect.”

  “That’s right, Marine. Like the one you have between your ears.”

  Suddenly ther
e were six other Marines around the table, fondling their assault knives. The first Marine pushed his face across the table. “You might want to think about rephrasing that last remark, ponytail.”

  Jayashree pushed back her chair and stood. She smiled darkly, flexing her hands. “I don’t dance, jarhead. But I do give lessons.”

  Sanchez turned to Bovus. “Ain’t you going to help her?”

  Bovus took a long pull from his mug and belched. “Nope. She ain’t gonna need any.”

  The Marine looked into black cobra eyes and had a full second to realize his mistake before a perfectly executed spinning reverse kick sent him crashing back twenty feet into a heap of tables and broken furniture.

  Fifteen minutes later a squad of MPs stormed into the bar and stopped, hefting their shocksticks. Amid a sea of debris and bloodstains, seven Marines lay sprawled around a vacant table holding three mugs and an empty beer pitcher.

  * * * * *

  The beach was an endless ribbon of crystalline white washed by a sea of dark turquoise. A riot of jungle overlooked the beach bordered by piles of drift suggesting violent storms past.

  From the sky dropped the shuttle, creating a small blizzard as landing struts reached out, sank into the sand. A whine of turbines slid down the scale, stopped. A hatch opened and Bovus and Jayashree jumped out, weapons ready, scanning in all directions. Mast and Sanchez emerged behind them, shielding their eyes from the glare.

  “I see something farther up the beach,” Jayashree pointed. “That look like a ship to you, Lieutenant?”

  Mast nodded. “Good guess, Sergeant. Let’s take a look.” He loosened the force pistol in his belt.

  It was the hulk of an old starshuttle half buried in sand and sea wrack. The entry hatch lay open, beckoning. Bovus scraped a mat of seaweed from the hull revealing faded letters.

  Andromeda.

  “Looks like payday, Lieutenant.”

  “Okay, Corporal, take point.” He motioned to the hatch. Warily Bovus stepped inside, pulse rifle probing ahead, followed by the others.

  The shuttle interior smelled of an ancient crypt, sand and debris underfoot, light filtering through weathered viewports. Mast made his way to the control cabin while Bovus and Jayashree spread out to search the rest of the ship. Suddenly, Sanchez gripped him by the arm.

  “Skipper, is that what I think it is?” He motioned to a seat by the main viewport.

  It was. In the pilot’s chair hunched a skeletal figure, bones protruding from a ragged flight suit. Beneath one dangling arm a corroded force pistol lay on the deck. Mast picked it up and looked down at the seated figure.

  “Been dead a long time,” he observed.

  Sanchez nodded. “Long time. Say, is that a blast hole in his head?”

  They squinted in the dimness at the weathered skull.

  “Holy crap,” breathed Mast, turning the old pistol over. “Looks like he shot himself. Why would he do that?”

  Bovus and Jayashree appeared in the gloom. “Shuttle’s empty, sir,” she reported. “Seems to have been that way for awhile.” She eyed the remains in the pilot’s seat. “What’s the story on the stiff?”

  “Something very nasty happened here… What’s this?” Mast lifted a metal disc hanging on the skeletal chest. He held it closer to the viewport. “J.S Readley; birth planet Earth, blood type: human, O positive.”

  “Captain Readley. Wasn’t he in command of the Andromeda?” Sanchez asked.

  “He’s the one. But where is his crew?” Mast looked at the puzzled faces about him. “Well, that’s why we dropped onto this little rock. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They emerged into the noonday glare, setting off along the beach toward the wall of green jungle. Abruptly Bovus stopped, squinting down the beach.

  “Hey, Lieutenant, over there. Is that another ship?”

  It was a second shuttle, this one a rotting hulk, almost buried in sand drifting through the gaping viewports.

  Mast picked up a fragment of hull sheeting. “Well, people, this one sure didn’t come down yesterday. No sign of remains, either.”

  “What is this anyway, the least known vacation spot in the galaxy?” Jayashree rested the butt of her pulse rifle in the sand. “How many more wrecks are we going to find along this beach?”

  “Let’s just worry about the first one, huh?” Mast sighed, gazing at the ocean glittering in the sunlight. Then he squinted at the wall of tropical foliage crowding the beach. “I think it’s time to take a walk in the woods.”

  They entered the jungle shadows and came upon a trail wandering through a fantastic landscape of gigantic ferns hung with multicolored blooms. Grotesque plants nodded on either side, giving off a medley of perfumes while high overhead birdlike creatures chattered.

  The trail ended, revealing a village of thatched huts, cleared fields, and the smell of wood smoke. At the sight of Mast and his party, a shout went up and a mob of excited villagers swarmed about them, laughing and calling to each other. They were swept forward to a large hut where an old man sat in a carved chair.

  “Hey, my canteen’s missing!” complained Bovus, glaring at the crowd.

  Sanchez grabbed his belt. “Hey! My radio and medpack are gone. What the hell!” Evidently the patting and searching hands of the welcoming committee also regarded the visitors as a shopping event.

  “Keep it down, people,” Mast ordered. “Looks like this is the head honcho and we don’t want to look like a bunch of bozos.”

  With great dignity and a smile, the old man emerged from the chair and descended the hut steps.

  Not sure if a handshake was customary in this culture, Mast returned the smile. “I’m Lieutenant John Mast of the Tantalus IV. Thanks for the great welcome.”

  The old man inclined his head. “I, Matahi, leader of village. I know who you are.”

  Mast was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

  “You are visitors from the stars. Like others, same you. Many seasons ago.”

  Bovus and Jayashree exchanged glances. Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “Those others, did they say they were from the Andromeda?” Mast demanded.

  Matahi nodded. “That was name of sky canoe. They lived with us long time, became old, passed up into sky.” He motioned upwards. “Only I and few others speak their tongue. They left children behind.”

  Children? Mast frowned. This was a new wrinkle. Would Central Command want them repatriated? “I think we would like the names of these children and also of the parents.”

  “Yes, that we can do. First, you are guest of village. We will celebrate your coming with feast.” He swept a hand over the crowd. “My people! Tonight we greet our visitors with food and song and dance!”

  * * * * *

  The bonfire lit up the clearing, sending dancing sparks into the night sky. The air thudded with drums and the music of flutes while the villagers sang and danced in the firelight. Trays of food were set out before Mast and his party, Matahi smiling proprietarily beside his guests.

  Sanchez watched the dancers whirl in the firelight, men on one side, women on the other. They swayed as they sang, bodies shining with sweat. He nudged Mast. “You know, Skipper, it just hit me.”

  “I can’t say how, they haven’t served any booze yet.”

  “Not that. Ancient Earth history in college. The Tahitians of the South Sea Islands. That’s who they remind me of. Heck, for all we know this whole village could be descended from a wrecked starcruiser and some Tahitian crew survivors.”

  “Yeah? They remind me of some of my college frat parties.”

  Sanchez studied the swaying forms. “I remember reading about a boatload of English sailors who landed in Tahiti and after weeks of wine, women, and song didn’t want to leave.”

  “So what happened?”

  “They mutinied, took over the ship, and exiled their captain.”

  “Well, that’s a nice piece of information for me to chew over,” Mast grunted. “Don’t be giving Bovus or Jaya
shree any ideas. I’d hate to be looking down the barrel of a force pistol one of these days.”

  Somewhere beyond the fire, the drums and flutes started back up, and the singing resumed. More platters of food were set out before the guests.

  A girl appeared in the firelight carrying a basket of slender gourds, passing them out to the crowd. She came to Mast and held one out. “You are leader of those from the stars. Welcome to village.”

  “You speak Terran?” he replied, surprised.

  “My grandfather from Andromeda. He teach me little. I am Oriata.”

  He took the gourd. “What is this?”

  “We call that tevai,” explained Matahi, leaning toward him. “It also called water of happiness. Men of Andromeda like it much. Here, you break off stem like so and drink.”

  “Hey, Lieutenant, did I win a door prize or something?”

  A huge islander was standing before Jayashree holding a wreath of scarlet blooms.

  Matahi laughed. “This is Manutea, strongest man in village. He say flowers for you. That you strong as you beautiful.”

  “Village idiot, you mean,” Bovus chortled. “Man, severe eyesight and brain trauma with this spacer.”

  “Shut up, limpwad,” Jayashree said as Manutea placed the flowers about her neck. “I hope this don’t mean we’re engaged because I have two more years left on my enlistment with the Rangers.” Her eyes met Manutea’s and held.

  “Skipper, this stuff is great! Water of happiness, huh? The name sure fits.” Sanchez raised the gourd of tevai, smacking his lips.