With a flick of his finger, he ended the recording and sent it on its way. He had too many conflicting thoughts and feelings to keep in order, and he knew only one thing for sure: whatever he'd experienced with the guards down on the surface, he wanted more of it. He'd never trusted feelings before, finding them entirely useless in any analytical process except to consider how those of others might affect their choices, but this need swept all other considerations before it. He didn't think he could function anymore without finding a way to fulfill it.
The door buzzed. He stood and opened it, expecting to see Raisa. Instead, Gerasim stood in the doorway, a bottle in his hand. "I thought maybe you'd like to toast your first combat mission." He lifted the bottle with a grin. "I ain't supposed to have this, but the same goes for the still I used to make it. I won't tell if you won't."
Khariton's smile hurt his cheeks as he let the other man in.
*****
Miron awoke to a concert of sounds he'd never heard before. His confusion lasted until pierced by the overwhelming realization that he wasn't dead. He opened his eyes.
He was alone in the lifeboat. Sunlight streamed in through the open hatch, reflecting off the floating dust. Raising one arm triggered a deep ache in his shoulder, and he groaned. Every single part of him hurt, and his body felt like lead. He managed to release his harness and slowly rose, his mind abuzz with white noise, unable to form a conscious thought beyond the dazzling fact of his survival.
The sunlight blinded him as he approached the hatch. Before he could step outside, his mind recovered enough to realize he ought to arm himself first. The emergency kit provided three sonic destroyers and a MAP rifle. He took the latter and ducked through the opening, squinting against the glare.
Moist, fragrant air poured down his throat, into his lungs. The sharp smell of the plants, the bright fragrance of flowers and the deep, satisfying smell of wet earth spread through his body. He couldn't stop breathing in until his lungs were full. As he exhaled, he wiped away tears.
The lifeboat had landed in a forest, and rested in a clearing created by its descent. Several trees had been felled by the craft, and others had been robbed of half their height. Zakhar stood on a splintered tree trunk in the center of the clearing, a weapon in each hand as he surveyed the surroundings. Rurik paced the outer perimeter, peering into the forest.
"Is anyone injured?" Miron said.
Both men turned. Rurik stalked towards him. "You! I was trying to save that man's life. How could you think knocking me out in the middle of surgery is even remotely acceptable?"
"He was dead in any case," Miron said with an edge. "I knew what Borya meant to do, and I knew there was no time to evacuate anyone else."
"You had no right!" The doctor's usually resigned expression bristled with rage. "I could have saved him!"
"Oh, get over yourself, doctor!" Miron spat. "He was a dead man, and so was everyone else in that infirmary. Your equipment was about to be blown to atoms. Did you think you could have brought him with you? How were you going to save him down here? Surgery with sticks and twigs? Even if he lived somehow, he would have been a liability. You should be grateful you still have your life."
Rurik's eyes were venom. "You think you did me a favor? Those people thought I was helping them. I was supposed to do everything I could to save them!"
"You're a doctor," Miron said. "You're needed."
"For what?" Rurik gestured at the lifeboat. "What do you think you can accomplish with three people and some emergency supplies?" He stepped closer. "It's over, Commander. It ended when we lost the ship."
"Not your decision," Miron snapped. "I say we're not done, and you're still fleet crew, meaning you still follow orders."
Rurik lowered his arm and turned to Zakhar. "Do you have anything to say about all this?"
Zakhar's square-jawed face held no expression. "He's right. Commander Miron is the ranking officer. If he says the mission's still on, it's on. You and I do as we're told."
The doctor shook his head. "That's just wonderful. Stuck in a nightmare with a tyrant and a puppet for company. I dearly wish you'd let me die with the others."
Miron came up to Zakhar. "Chief, how did we survive the landing? I thought the brake chute was out."
The chief shrugged. "The angle of our descent, combined with emergency retro thrusters, the inertial negators, and the trees. We got lucky."
"What do you think of this site? Is it secure enough to spend the night?"
"We don't have a viable alternative," Zakhar said. "Scouting for another location and constructing a shelter as effective as the lifeboat would take far too long, and it's too late in the day to do much exploring. I suggest we set a watch and retire. We haven't recovered from the crash, or the journey. We can eat and rest, then explore the surrounding area starting at daybreak."
Miron nodded. "Very good. You'll take the first watch?"
"Yes, sir." Zakhar scanned the perimeter one more time before heading to the lifeboat.
Miron approached Rurik, in spite of his gut screaming at him to ignore the man. "Doctor, I understand that you're not happy with the situation and how I handled it. I'm sure you can see the importance of working together now that we're stuck here."
Rurik gave him a long look before answering. "There are certain things one simply does not do. I am a doctor. I keep people alive. I've made a sort of peace with the fact that that isn't always a good thing, but it's what I do, and I take pride in it. It's always right, in its own way. It's different from keeping a piece of machinery going in that a human life carries with it an almost infinite complexity, and a value that defies definition. Yes, I ended Ilari's life, but only because it was that undefinable value that had been lost. When you interrupted my work, you killed the man on my table, regardless of whether he was about to die with the ship. He wasn't just a tool that had lost its utility; he was a person. Compassion can matter a great deal more than a base concept like survival."
"Survival of an individual, perhaps," Miron said, already struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice. "A lot more than that is at stake here. I shouldn't have to explain the circumstances of our mission to get you to follow orders. You know that."
Rurik shook his head. "There comes a point where wrong is wrong, no matter what exigency you use to justify your actions. For instance, if all else is equal, is it acceptable to kill one man in order to save another? And more importantly, have you ever considered the question?"
"I try not to waste my time on moral hypotheticals that have no answer," Miron said. "Let's eat and get some rest, doctor. I'm sure the days ahead will be challenging." He turned and walked away.
"You're not quite correct, Commander," Rurik said in a quiet tone as he followed. "The question has no answer only until it ceases to be hypothetical."
Miron knew last-word syndrome when he saw it, and said nothing more.
They ate in silence. Once they finished, Rurik curtly stated he wouldn't be able to sleep under the circumstances and joined Zakhar on watch. Miron stripped off his vacsuit and settled in one of the lifeboat's seats, mulling over their situation until exhaustion dragged him into a heavy sleep.
He awoke to Zakhar shaking his injured shoulder, sending waves of pain down his arm. "What?" he muttered, struggling to banish the fog from his head.
"Sir, Rurik is gone," the chief said. "He was on watch and he stepped out. It's been too long."
Miron sat up. "Is the sun up yet?"
"Probably another half-hour until dawn. There's some light."
He took his rifle and followed Zakhar outside. The few stars that found holes in the cloud cover rendered the clearing in shades of dark blue. A faint purple tint close to the horizon heralded the sunrise.
"He's not in the clearing," Zakhar said. "I checked. I called his name, by voice and through the comm, but no answer."
"What do you recommend?"
"Wait for sunrise," he said immediately. "The ACS protects me from snakes and
the like, but your uniform won't help you, and you won't see them in this light. I could search while you wait here, but we don't know what threats we have to contend with. I believe separating could be fatal."
Miron ground his teeth. "What if he fell and hit his head? Something could get to him while we wait."
"If he were close by, I'd be able to pick up his heat signature on the infrared. He had no reason to stray any distance from the lifeboat." He looked at Miron. "I think something big is out there."
Miron scanned the trees, acutely aware of how little he knew about this world. "We go out at dawn. I'll risk a snakebite. We need to find him."
Waiting for the sun to rise above the trees left Miron far too much time to think. Borya and Rurik's words gnawed at him. He'd blindly refuted what he'd considered their fatalistic attitudes, but he realized now that he didn't have a single idea on how to find the cocoons, never mind contacting the Supreme Command to let them know they'd been found. Just staying alive seemed like it would take all their time and energy. Once the lifeboat's rations ran out, they'd be forced to forage or hunt for food without knowing anything about the flora or fauna. The emergency kit provided an analyzer tool to determine toxicity and nutritional value of potential foods, but how many tests would it take before they found something? Trapping animals whose behavior they knew nothing of would be difficult, and hunting seemed like a waste of ammunition.
The sky had brightened to a golden glow. "This will have to do," Miron said through clenched teeth. "Let's go."
They set out following an expanding spiral pattern. Zakhar went in front, sweeping through the underbrush with his armored legs. Miron divided his attention between looking for signs of the doctor and watching for critters.
The unrelenting noise from the jungle threatened to overwhelm his senses. Some of the screeching and howling sounds reminded him of bird calls, but most left him clueless as to what animal made them. A series of deep, vibrating honks stirred a primal fear in his gut, until he saw the chubby, fist-sized blue bird that made the noise.
Zakhar stopped abruptly, causing Miron to stumble into his metal-clad back. "Commander," he said. Miron stepped around him and looked up, but it took a moment before he realized what they were seeing. Horror and revulsion scoured his mind. He turned and threw up.
"He's definitely dead," Zakhar said, in the same cool, professional tone he always used. "That looks like a cocoon of sorts."
What was left of Rurik hung upside-down from a bough a dozen feet off the ground, clinging to the tree with shriveled, moss-green limbs. Ropy sinews and taut muscles stretched his mottled, leathery skin, and long, white hairs sprouted all over his body. From the gaping cavity that used to be his abdomen grew a stalk several feet long, with a grey lump hanging at the end. The lump slowly pulsed, stretching the leathery membrane that covered it. The doctor's face, drained of moisture and color, grinned down at them.
"We have to get him down," Miron croaked, and spat.
"I don't think so," Zakhar said, and for the first time, Miron detected a hint of tension in the chief's voice. "We're not alone."
Miron straightened and shouldered his rifle. "Where?"
"By the tree. It's camouflaged," he said. "It doesn't show up on the infrared spectrum."
Miron squinted. He saw nothing―
It moved, the rippling camouflage matching the surroundings perfectly. All he could see for sure were two black eyes. He sucked air into his lungs with desperate urgency, panic but a moment's weakness away.
The thing rushed forward, so smoothly it seemed like the forest floor itself flowed towards them. Zakhar fired three rounds in quick succession, striking the thing once in the head and twice in the torso. The impact checked its advance and sent it rolling away. The camouflage flickered briefly, and Miron got a glimpse of a double-jointed blood red shape, bristling with claws and fangs.
His back prickled with alarm and he turned. A pair of dull, empty, black eyes stared into his own. Even as he brought his rifle around, he knew he was too late.
The monster jerked to the side and collapsed, a five-foot long missile two fingers thick piercing its torso. It twitched twice, then lay still. Miron looked back to where the arrow had come from, and saw another creature. It issued a hoarse rattle, cut short when an arrow slammed into its body, almost lifting it off its feet. It kicked as it fell, and even managed to close its claws around the shaft before its life slipped away.
A man leaped down from the trees. He'd been only a dozen paces away, yet Miron hadn't seen him before he'd moved. A bow almost as tall as the man himself hung from his back, and he held a long knife in one hand. He ignored Miron and Zakhar and headed straight for the thing Zakhar had shot. Miron's confusion lasted until the motionless creature burst into motion, lashing out at the native. Miron couldn't tell exactly what he did as he slipped past the scything claws and the blade flickered. As he turned and straightened, the creature fell, a deep "X" carved into its body.
The man pointed at Zakhar with his knife. "Who are you?"
He stood only as tall as Miron's chin, but his attire revealed an abundance of lean muscle beneath his dark brown skin. His armor appeared to be made of wood shaped to fit his body. Bone-white fetishes stuck out from the braid in his long, black hair. He spoke with a thick accent Miron had never heard before, but the words were clear. The lack of delay between the movement of his mouth and the sound in Miron's ears meant his implant had easily translated the words, but the translation of a previously unknown language should have been impossible until the implant had a larger sample to work with. "We are travelers from far away," he said, thinking hard. They needed this native, but he seemed understandably suspicious. How could Miron put him at ease? "We came from the stars," he said. "Our ship fell from the sky."
"Are you with the loud men?" the native man demanded, now addressing Miron even as he cast uncertain glances at Zakhar in his armor. The guard chief managed to appear passive despite holding enough firepower to incinerate the immediate area.
"No," Miron said. "We don't know who they are."
The man lowered his weapon. "I am Azial, of the Udaki tribe. Why did you come here?"
Miron kept his expression carefully neutral even as he cursed inside. He'd hoped to avoid that question for now. "Long ago, my people lost something here. We are here to find it."
Azial offered no response besides a stare. A wave of heat built up underneath Miron's uniform. Finally, Azial said, "If you speak vaguely, I will not trust you."
"I don't mean to mislead you," Miron said. "I fear that you will not understand. I can try to explain, but it will take time. My name is Miron, and he is Zakhar." He hesitated. "Can you help us? We are alone, and we have already lost our companion."
Azial looked at Zakhar, then back at Miron. "I will take you to my village and feed you. Then we will speak at length."
"Thank you," Miron said, careful to keep most of the relief out of his tone. He didn't want these people to know exactly how dire their situation was. "Can we return to our ship before we leave?"
"I will follow you."
Miron turned to Zakhar, who had kept track of their search pattern. "Lead the way."
"Yes, sir."
As the armored guard passed him, Miron glanced once more at Rurik's body. "Azial, can we... honor our companion's remains?"
The small man gave him a sidelong glance, and he thought he detected compassion in it. "More Vile are coming. There is nothing you can do. He is gone. The cocoon must be pierced, or it will make a new Vile." He took his bow and notched an arrow, but kept the weapon lowered and glanced at him once more. At Miron's nod, he raised the bow and loosed the shaft. It slammed into the dangling lump, sending it swinging. The cocoon pulsed rapidly, then went still.
Miron and Zakhar led the way, with Azial following at a respectful distance. He had shown no sign of fear, even though he must have seen Zakhar shoot the creature he'd had to finish off. Either he had some familiarity with firearms, or he
was not easily impressed.
"Sir, did you see his knife?" Zakhar said through the comm, keeping his voice too low to be heard by ear alone.
"It doesn't match the rest of his equipment," Miron agreed. "His language is very similar to ours. His kind must have descended from the ones who stayed behind."
"He seems genuine."
"I agree. We'll follow him to his village and see what they want to do. Direct any questions about our intentions to me. There's a chance we'll be able to recruit these people."
Once they reached the lifeboat, they collected all four emergency kits, each intended to support two people for four weeks. Azial stood at the clearing's edge, his face unreadable as they brought out their supplies. Zakhar adjusted his suit to accommodate the burden, adding to his already considerable bulk. He gave a nod to Miron, who turned to Azial. "We're ready to follow you."
As the diminutive native led the way through the jungle, Miron mustered the slightest measure of hope. He'd lost the ship and all the crew save one, but he was still alive. He had weapons, a veteran guard chief to support him, and he knew he'd landed somewhere on the continent where the cores lay hidden. He hadn't failed yet. If the natives turned out to be friendly, and Azial had given every indication that they would, he would have a base to work from. One step at a time, he told himself. One step at a time, in the right direction, and he'd fulfill his mission.
If the Commonwealth survived that long.
*****
Azial dropped down from the village wall, disappearing into the undergrowth. He'd left the two strangers in the care of the tribe, all of whom had so far been willing to accept his claim that they were honored visitors from far away.
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