by Hyde, Ed
We move back inside the well-camouflaged central area and sit in the small camp near the landing zone. David leans way back and points up to a large soaring bird. We both follow its movement until it swoops behind the arboreal canopy.
“Now, during direct contact like ours we can collect samples at will but … when you deal with intelligent beings—no matter how primitive—you have to be careful. In all cases, they will fit you into their world view any way they can and how they do it may have an important effect. So, when I say discreet, I mean in such a way as to minimize the shock not just to their bodies but to their minds as well.”
David seems done talking, but I sense he wants to say more. He looks around and begins to fidget with some of the equipment on the work surface to his left. “But,” I say, eager to hear more, “how do you do that? The sampling. How is it actually done?”
David returns his attention and gaze to me. “Depends on the quality of the sample required. Jason, let’s pick this up another time. If you don’t feel your questions are being answered by my notes and reports, try the database. I know there are at least a few descriptions of similar work in there. We can talk again soon, too.”
“You mentioned that this area is the ideal location for our purposes. Our purpose is to sample and record the existing organisms’ DNA. Can’t we do that from anywhere? Why is this spot better than anywhere else?” I ask.
David doesn’t answer or respond right away. I think maybe he is preoccupied with other thoughts and didn’t hear me, but he does finally say, “What I meant to say was the population of natives that has the highest correlation to the ideal, the ones most like us in other words, is centered here. Right here. We have to leave it at that for the moment.”
“Alright, no problem. Thanks for the info. You’re staying out here, I presume?”
“I am staying here. Urge Mark to work on that second runabout; I will be here a lot and don’t like to be stranded. Tell him to have Porter return with this one as soon as the supplies I ordered are ready.”
That reminds me of my job and I have a quick look at David’s electronics. He turns his attention to what must be samples and analysis equipment.
“I saw where you reported that you made your first direct contact with natives,” I say as a way to see if he wants to talk about it some more. “The notes don’t mention any issues. I presume all contact so far has been uneventful?”
“No. Eventful, but in a good way. As I said, we have actually pulled in a good set of samples. We are in the right place. I’ve already targeted an individual for more extensive work.” In a quieter tone, almost as if to himself, he continues, “We were wrong about the interpretation of some of the images—development is not very advanced. We are talking stone age here, maybe a little beyond,” and then added, looking my way, “but not much.”
I continue about my business and let David do the same. I set up advanced syncing parameters and do a quick manual read of a couple local report files. One is from Brachus; I guess it makes sense he has been here with David while the rest of the Resources team does the actual work of his department. I shouldn’t complain. Look at me—I have spare time too as long as things continue to work smoothly, electronically speaking.
“So, have you worked with Wesley before on a mission?” I ask as I wrap up what I need to do.
“We have worked together over the years and go way back as acquaintances even longer. This is the first time we’ve been on a deep space mission together.” David pauses to work his lower lip as usual; I try to ignore it as usual. I hardly notice it any more, really. It’s like Mark’s limp. “He led his own mission not that long ago, you know.”
“I didn’t know. In fact I hardly know more than what I’ve learned since we met before launch, and that’s not much. I am surprised he is in such a high position seeing as how he was the last member to be brought on.” Oops, I can see right away this is a mistake to mention.
David’s demeanor at once turns cold as he replies, “What should I have done, punish him for coming to the team late?”
I decline to answer, wisely, I believe, sensing that there is no right answer and no answer is in fact wanted or expected. David offers no follow up comment and we both work in silence for my last few minutes at his bio camp.
Even after such a short time, we have learned a lot about the native populations relative to their environment. First, from our point of view, the days and years are incredibly short. It takes a little time, but we all seem to be getting used to it. Carol just joined the ground crew and although she thinks the place is beautiful she’s still disoriented.
Maybe it’s tied to the short daily and yearly cycle but, if you can believe his reports, the natives David wants to study have very short life spans. In local years, the average is between 20 and 30 maxing out at maybe 50. Even compared to the general untreated populace back home, this is really short. We are going to be here for many of their generations. The magnitude of the life span difference brings home the major advances in medicine and healthy living that I tend to take for granted.
Strange, back at my ground terminal at base camp, I read the same report that I scanned at the bio station, Brachus’ report, and it’s different! Not sure what is happening there. Maybe I am mis-remembering what I read, or is it possible he edited the report later? No, the time stamp says it couldn’t be. Like I said, I’m not sure what’s going on there. But the reason I mention it is when I tried to contact him on his communicator, I got Tracy. He’s jacked around with the addresses and redirect settings so that Tracy gets his calls and messages while she continues to get her own as well. Why am I not surprised? I may go to David but I can already guess that he thinks I am overreacting to the Brachus business.
I’ll tell you what though, the evolutionary convergence that David started to talk about is really something. I see it mostly in local plants, although I suspect this is because I don’t have a background in plants and couldn’t identify differences without more study. Someone who actually knows plant structure may have something else to say. The few animals I’ve seen look familiar but only when viewed from a distance. Markings and coloration let you know right away that you are not anywhere near home!
I have seen the relief map of the bio camp area. It’s in a moderately small valley with only one narrow natural way in and out. I see why David likes it: it’s easy to control and isolate. The central camp is right in the middle of the widest part of the valley near the one small meandering stream.
I took a little time to pull up and review the database for information on previous similar missions. I found a couple but won’t have time to extract details until I get back from a trip to Dylan’s current field location. Should be a fun visit; I’m looking forward to it.
Dex
“What reservation?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m heading out to one of the mineral outcroppings today.”
Mark comes right back with, “Which one?”
“Which one? Does it matter? What do you mean which one?” At this point I am starting to get peeved; this excursion has been set up for some time. I see Dylan approaching and give him a nod.
“All set?” he asks. “Let’s go. It’s not far. You’re gonna like it out there.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say it was Dylan’s reservation? You are set to go. Don’t forget me while you’re out there; I gave you the signature you are looking for. Bring in at least the minimum amount specified and I will be a happy guy.”
“Not funny, Mark. You knew this was Dylan’s.”
“What? You didn’t say that,” he says with a smile, brushing his red hair away from his forehead. Yes, he knew all right, I’m sure, but again with the games.
_______
As we take off I see what looks like Grigor down in the camp. I didn’t know he’s down here. We haven’t talked in a while and will have to get together soon.
Dylan and I are quiet as we travel to our destination. Coming out of the mountains
Dylan maintains a high altitude. It’s unlikely any native would spot us at that height. We know they have no technology to speak of. No way to enhance their vision. But why would it matter? No sense creating a scene, I guess. Up here we are just another bird, albeit an odd looking one. Landing is more problematic outside base camp. For sure we are visible and noisy as we approach and leave the surface. Observation is unavoidable.
The views we get from orbit really don’t offer a good 3D feel for the topography. The view from up here in the transport sure does! From the rugged, mountainous base camp and surrounds to the distant expanses of water, the shapes and textures, bright and colorful, are incredibly fascinating. Intense blue and white in the sky, the desolate areas of barren brown surrounded by lush shades of green plant life—all of this punctuated by jagged mountains of varying height with striking, sharp delineation between light and dark areas. If that’s not enough, the sparkling deep blue-gray expanses of water set the rest off dramatically. It would be a pleasure to spend some time just exploring. I wonder how Carol’s schedule is looking.
“I’m going to take a spin around before we land. That’s where we are going, right there,” Dylan points to a rough-looking spot where vegetation is spotty. It’s one of several jagged brown uprisings surrounded by lush green overgrowth. No more talking as he takes us on a precipitous drop to a landing.
“You’ve been here before?” I ask in such a way as to hopefully not show any apprehension.
“Yep, a couple times,” Dylan responds glancing at me. “Don’t worry. The natives are friendly.” He smiles calmly.
We exit the transport and Dylan quietly follows me as I tentatively walk to the edge of the rocky outcropping where there is a view of a lower-lying expanse.
“I like this spot,” he says as I look around. “Mark gave us several sites located from orbit. This one is very rich in something we need.” He waits a few seconds before continuing, I guess waiting for a comment. “Don’t ask me what it is. I don’t know and haven’t bothered to check into it. I’ve got a specific spectro signature, and when I get a close match on my sensor here, that’s it. Probably it’s a good mixture of more than one thing anyway. Mark is very picky because the richer the samples are, the less processing needs to be done. As he says, ‘Why settle for rotgut, when a good martini is sitting right out there on the table?’ Or some such corn. All I know is that he seems happy with what we bring him. I’m working a place right over here on this cleft face and already have about half a load going. Help me undock the mining cart. We can load it up and then have some free time if you want to look around some more.”
I have heard about these units. They dock directly to a flyer and are used for transporting raw materials or anything really. I can see where Dylan has been working this site. We muscle the ore cart to a pile of previously broken rock and begin loading the easily manageable pieces. I like this work. I can see that Dylan could handle it alone, and probably has done so many times at various sites during our stay. Even though we don’t speak much I think Dylan enjoys the company.
The right hand rule is, of course, applied to all new worlds to establish a uniform reference for north. Latitude is straightforward. Longitude is based on a stake dropped into a hopefully stable and prominent land mass upon first mapping. Sometimes this works for eons but other times upheavals on a planet’s surface will obliterate the stake. In that case, a new one is planted at the next visit. For missions like ours, base camp center is the local zero for the duration of our stay and it is offset to the stake location in the official records. It’s a best attempt at continuity over time. This system places us at about 7 W and 34 N.
There are clouds moving in from the northwest, but not threatening ones. The way the sun and shadow play on the lower elevations within our view is beautiful. Dylan points and we see the distant sea, far off to the southwest.
“This sure seems inefficient, carting these small loads back and forth across the planet,” I say as we continue to manually load. “Is any of this stuff radioactive?”
“It’s not as bad as you might think. We only go after the richest deposits in the easiest locations to access. The yields that Mark gets are high. And he purposely chose base camp close to the items he needs the most of. He’s a smart cookie… although I don’t think he likes me. As far as radioactive material, that’s not what we are loading here. I mean, there could be some percentage but it’s not the main resource. Just be sure to check in with Doc when you get back and you will be alright.”
He smiles at my concern and looks away, toward the vegetation to the west, the side of the outcropping that begins to slope downward steadily.
“Oh Mark likes you alright, he just comes on gruff. Did the same to me. Still does. He gets a kick out of it. Say, how is Brachus working out for you guys?”
“Hold on,” says Dylan and he gives a sharp whistle while continuing to look in the same westerly direction. “He doesn’t know what to make of you. Stay here. Take this,” he says as he hands me a small pouch and heads away.
I tense at the mention of ‘he’ and try to follow Dylan’s gaze. There is something there at the edge of the clearing, but what? I stand erect now, listening and looking intently. What the…? Out of the brush comes a dog. I mean to say, it looks for all the world like a kind of dog! It’s got a somewhat odd shape, especially around the head, and looks like it could fend for itself no problem. And the mannerisms definitely say ‘dog.’
“Dylan, what the heck have you got going here? Be careful with that thing. If he attacks, I’m taking off, you’re on your own,” I say, only half-joking. I have fumbled for and pulled out my weapon, but Dylan looks back, sees me, and waves his hand as if to say ‘not to worry’.
“Put that away. Toss one of the pieces of the food I brought over here. I want you to meet Dex.”
“Yeah, that’s ok. You keep him right there; I’ll toss the food.”
I do not take my eyes off ‘Dex’ while trying to figure out what to do next. Wait, what happened to the pouch? I see I dropped it when Dex first appeared. Still holding my weapon, I shuffle to the pouch and pick it up.
“Did you say he wants to meet me, or eat me?” I ask in an effort to disguise my concern. Dex looks like he might be about a quarter of my weight, and if he took a running leap could easily knock me down. I’ll keep the weapon out, thank you. Those two seem to be getting along OK but I swear the dog is watching me as closely as I am watching him, or her, or whatever it is.
“He lives down the hill. He heard us. He came up the last couple times I was here. Jason, ease up and come here. Toss him something. He’s not here to stalk or attack, he’s curious and friendly.”
“Ok, sure, whatever you say. I’ll be right there,” I lie, having no intention of leaving the relative safety of my position at the ore cart. I toss a bit of food toward Dex as Dylan, realizing, I guess, that I’m not coming any closer, begins to walk my way. Dex warily watches my toss, then turns his attention to the food, likes what he smells and eats it up. He follows Dylan but stops short, well back from me. It seems we are on the same wavelength there. It’s a standoff of toleration for the moment as Dex actually sits down on his haunches and assumes a more relaxed but alert posture, ears erect and gaze steady.
“Ok, you two. Have it your way. At least he has seen you. Next time you will be old friends.”
I suggest we get back to work, secretly hoping Dex will skedaddle back to his cave or wherever. “Man, that was a shock. I mean, how did you get him so tame? It’s almost like he’s been with people before.”
Dylan looks at Dex, then at me and says calmly, “He has.”
I am getting used to the short days now. It’s beginning to seem normal whereas just a little while ago I had a sort of dizzy feeling as they whizzed past. This has to be a brief entry. I am logging this from the field at Dylan’s mining location. I’m still not over the double whammy of, first, Dex and, second, Dylan’s admission of native contact. This kid is a wonder and appa
rently fearless. We finished loading all the prepped ore, cracked out some more, and tomorrow will locate and prepare even more for a future visit. If we are lucky, he says, he may be able to introduce me to one of the locals. As incredible as it seems, Dylan says he has started a rudimentary communication with them. I say he is playing with fire as any native will find us not just as an outsider in his territory, but a way outsider, and may therefore feel threatened and become aggressive. If they find the transport or ore cart, they will not be able to reconcile these things with their experience, period. The results are unpredictable, and I told him so. I know he heard me, but made no reply.
Burnin’ Fire
Sleep is impossible. After learning that Dylan has made contact, and knowing that we are in an exposed area, I can’t help but stay alert. And of course now I clearly hear and ascribe every night sound to prowlers, murderers and savage beasts.
Dylan is immobile and out to the world, deep asleep by all signs. The perimeter alarm is set and we are in his little temporary dome. ‘That’s enough for us,’ he says, ‘they have no lights or real weapons to speak of, we are safe, especially at night’ he says. Bull. I just heard pawing and snuffling right outside the dome.
Sleep comes, dreams come. I am standing alone in our back yard, in the dark, facing the rear of the house where I grew up. I have lost the dream-thread that led me to here but no matter. My attention is drawn to the sound of children playing. I listen without turning, for the sound comes from behind me, for several moments. It gets louder. I turn without haste and see, through a chain link fence, a scene as if on a large, well-lit stage. The fence separates me from the stage; the setting is a schoolyard. The schoolyard is filled with youngsters out for recess and they are in various phases of activity, on and around playground equipment. The sound of their high-pitched voices, laughing and shouting, changes character slowly and for some length of time I am puzzled. It is at this moment of awakening that I realize the vision is a dream but the sound persists! In the dark, I turn my head and see Dylan, sound asleep, in the little camp dome. The sound from my dream continues, but it is not children, it is a pack of baying animals in the night, and not too far away either. Their yipping and howling combine and separate, rise and fall, and then stop altogether. Could it be Dex and his kind? No, not Dex, the sounds are too high-pitched for him. The night passes into silence and sleep eventually returns.