Colony (Terran Chronicles Book 3)

by James Jackson

“No, you wouldn’t. That spike may be strong enough to penetrate the soles of the average person’s footwear. But on a positive note, we have seen signs that larger animals can survive the poison, though permanent muscle damage seems evident.”

  Peter stares at the hole in the tree, “So those things just wander around?”

  Emma frowns, “No. As far as we can tell, they’re territorial, and live in isolation until mating season. That’s when I expect things will get really interesting.”

  Peter stares at Emma, he would rather face a hundred enemy soldiers than those ten legged spiders. He smiles, “Any more surprises I should know about?”

  She scrunches up her face as she thinks seriously, “Well, we’ve discovered over one hundred species so far, but only a few that are really exciting.” She looks back at Peter, “I am really curious to see what we find near the lake. Let’s go.”

  The walk to the lake takes them less than half an hour. Emma takes in a deep breath as she walks along the water’s edge.

  A splash in the water catches their attention, Emma immediately swings her camera up. Peter is faster, and stares through the sights of his rifle at the expanding ripples in the water.

  Emma tilts her head at him, then rummages through her backpack, “Here, if you’re going to be that fast, at least take pictures.” She holds out a camera, one with a large lens, and numerous buttons. She adds, while pointing at it, “Just push that button there.”

  Peter scowls, then takes the offered camera. “You’re impossible,” he says, then asks, “Don’t your folks have samples of the water life yet?”

  “Yes,” Emma replies, “but none from this lake, yet. Since our colony is close, this lake seems like an obvious choice for any aspiring boaters and fishers. So we probably should, eventually.” She adds it to the list in her mind.

  He stares at the water, deep in thought, then he simply says, “Fair enough.”

  The terrain varies, forcing the pair away from the water’s edge. They make their way through knee high grass, past bushy shrubs, and tall trees as they try to stay close to the water. Twenty minutes later, the pair has managed to get to the far side of the lake, but due to its elongated shape, it will take a long time to walk all the way around. Another splash in the water catches their attention. Emma swings her camera up, but once again, she is too slow.

  Peter starts to quietly whistle a tune, then while looking skyward says, “Ahem,” he hands his camera to Emma.

  She frowns, then looks at the camera’s screen, “How the heck did you do that?” There before her, is a blurry image of what appears to be a large fish. Emma stares at Peter in disbelief, then makes some adjustments to the camera. She hands it back to him, “Nice. The river bank is more open up ahead, let’s see if we can get some clearer shots.”

  Emma is about to step into the small clearing when she suddenly stops, and lifts her hand up. Peter’s first reaction is to step in front of her, and even though ever fiber of his being wants him to act, he stays exactly where he is. Ever so slowly and quietly, she lifts her camera. At the very first click, the gazelle-like animal stops drinking from the water’s edge. It lifts its head quickly, and looks around, the animal’s long ears are twitching. Peter stares, fascinated. It seems so out of place in the woods between a mountain range and a river. Its thin brown fur looks more like a camouflage outfit, than hide, and seems much more suited for the hills than the forest. The animal’s short snout sniffs the air, then it takes off. Its four long legs propel it speedily through the woods, while its slender body seems to flex as it bounds around trees and over shrubs. In seconds, it is gone.

  Peter gazes at the small clearing and immediately notices the many game trails that head off into the forest, “Is seems like this is a popular spot to come and drink.”

  Emma nods in agreement, “I haven’t seen one of those before.”

  He glances down at his camera guiltily, then gulps, “I didn’t take any pictures.”

  “That’s okay, it obviously has exceptional hearing and smell,” Emma responds.

  “Yeah, I noticed that. It was upwind of us and it still seemed to sense our presence,” Peter adds.

  Emma walks down to the water’s edge, takes a sample of the water, then looks around. She puts the container away, and asks curiously, “Did you bring a tent?”

  Peter is looking at how many samples she has already, and is caught completely off guard by her question. After a few seconds of her staring at him, the question sinks in, “Oh, yes. Yes, I have tent. Why?”

  Emma shakes her head, “Because, silly, we’re not going to make it all the way the around the lake at this pace. Besides, I want to see what night life comes down here to drink.”

  Peter’s face twitches, “You mean, stay here... tonight... to see what comes wandering by?” He glances at the nearby trees, nervously.

  Emma nods excitedly, “Yes, but we will need to find just the right place.” Her shoulders sag in feigned disappointment, “You wuss! Those spiders don’t drink much, they tend to get all the moisture they need from their prey,” she teases.

  “Oh, that’s comforting,” he says, and walks off to find a suitable place for them to camp. He mutters quietly to himself, then imagines her saying, ‘what’s that?’ along with his reply of ‘oh, nothing dear.’

  Oblivious to Peter’s distress, Emma meanders along the lake’s edge. She examines a multitude of animal footprints in the mud, along with a half dozen different kinds of flying insects. She gazes around, then notices a string of fishing line caught in some tree branches nearby. She shakes her head in disapproval, we had better not start polluting this world with our junk. I will have to have a word with the colonists about this. She dismisses the thin line, and continues walking.

  Emma stops and stares down at the ground, then examines some tree roots, so much like Earth’s, she thinks. She is about to move on when something catches her eye, “What the blazes is that?” She asks herself out loud. Crouching down, she stares intently at a rusty nail that is embedded into one of the tree roots. The hairs on the back of her neck lift, the tree has grown over much of the nail.

  She glances around looking for Peter, then gulps when her eyes fall upon a mound of collapsed timbers in the forest. Her heart races as her imagination takes off on its own, “Peter,” she says a little nervously.”

  Peter immediately lifts his weapon and pans the area. “Where,” he says with a determined single-mindedness. Not seeing anything, he drops to one knee and relentlessly scans the area, searching for whatever dangers may be lurking.

  She takes a deep breath, rusty nail, old wood, this stuff has been here for a long time. She gathers her wits, then walks to Peter, “It’s okay. I scared myself, that’s all.”

  He does not lower his rifle, but instead replies, “Okay, what did you see then?”

  Emma points into the woods at the fallen logs. Peter swings his rifle around and studies them through the telescopic sight. He stands and lowers his gun, “Fallen timber... so?”

  “I am not so sure that’s all it is, it doesn’t look normal to me.” Emma’s voice sounds a little unsure.

  They walk to the wood pile, then spend considerable time debating whether or not it is naturally occurring, or something else. The side of Emma’s face twitches as she glances from the wood pile to the nail. She lifts an old log, but it falls apart in her hands. Not wanting to damage the discovery any more, she stops and steps back.

  In a flash of insight, Emma recalls the line, which causes a fresh wave of uncertainty to wash over her. She looks at Peter and says, “No one has been fishing here, someone at the settlement would have said something.”

  Peter feels a strange sensation creep up his spine, “Right.” He gazes around, “So, if not us, who then?”

  Emma rushes back to where she found the line, then attempts to cut off a piece, “My blade is dull, can you cut this please?”

  “Sure,” Peter replies as he walks over to her, then as his knife slides uselessly
over the fishing line, he adds, “ugh, maybe?”

  They both stare at Peter’s blade as it glides back and forth over the thread, and yet does not cut it. Peter stares at his knife in shock, “Now that’s some special line.”

  With a single slash, he cuts down the branch the fishing line is entwined with, “Hey the tree has grown over this stuff,” he says, as he examines it.

  Emma looks, and sure enough, the line runs through the branch. She follows it, and says, “It looks as though the whole tree has grown around it.”

  Peter smiles as an idea comes to mind, “We can get a rough idea how long this has been here.”

  She frowns, “How?”

  “Well,” he says, “we use the condition of the wood at our original base camp as a guide.”

  Emma nods then says, “Yes, this stuff is just so out of place here,” her eyes dart from the nail to the wood pile, then back to the thread.

  “Natives?” Peter asks, already sure of the answer.

  She shakes her head doubtfully. “No. If this planet were populated, we would have observed some signs of it by now.”

  Peter gazes at the sky in wonder, “So, someone just dropped in to do a bit of fishing,” he shrugs his shoulders and adds, “then left?”

  Emma also looks skyward, “I don’t know what to think right now.”

  Peter nods his head, “But we’re in agreement, that whoever was here, is long gone.”

  Emma looks around, “Let’s keep this quiet for a while. I would like to examine the thread properly, before I come to any conclusions.”

  Peter’s eyebrows raise, “We will be informing Cindy of this as soon as we get back, though?”

  Emma says vacantly, “Yes of course we will. But I don’t want to cause a panic, this could all be nothing.”

  The two of them spend a long time finding just the right place for their tent. Once it is erected, Peter works on cutting off a piece of the fishing line they found. Finally he is successful, and puts the hard earned sample into his backpack. With nightfall still a long way off, they walk through the forest and follow game trails all the way the forest’s edge. Standing at the base of the mountains, the pair sees more of the gazelle-like animals. Their patchy brown fur allows them to blend in almost perfectly with the landscape.

  Emma smiles, “Mountain goats,” she says as she points them out.

  Peter’s own smile fades when he notices the long shadows on the ground, “We’d better head back to the campsite.”

  “Sure. Love the color scheme of those animals, great camouflage. No wonder we haven’t spotted them before.” She looks all around, I wonder what keeps their numbers down?

  Peter takes out his radio, “Come in, John.”

  The speaker crackles, then clears up, “John here, you guys ready?”

  “Not quite, in fact we are spending the night in the wood.” Peter replies.

  Emma leans in to talk, “Can you meet us at the clearing? I have some samples I want my team to work on.”

  A few seconds go by, then John responds, “I will land and wait for you.”

  John waits in the clearing and watches the shadows get longer by the minute. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the pair arrives.

  Emma rushes to John, her backpack in hand, “Okay I need you to give these samples to my team.” She opens her backpack, then hands over a half dozen sealed bio hazard bags.

  John takes the samples and says, “I will be back in the morning then,” he gives Peter a long look, then leaves.

  Emma and Peter hurry through the woods, trying to beat the approaching sunset. Meanwhile, John flies back to Hawking, but contrary to what he said, he does not stay long. Instead, he returns to the clearing, where he spends the night. He and Peter had agreed previously, that the shuttle should be as close as possible, just in case.

  The pair arrives at their tent just as the sun sets behind the mountains. Under the fast fading light, the two of them set up Emma’s main camera on a small tripod, then retire for the night. Neither of them sleeps well, as strange sounds assault their ears.

  Peter wakes, suddenly alert, he pulls a knife from under his side of the bed so fast that it seems to have materialized there. Something heavy is brushing past their tent, pushing its soft walls inward. A crash from outside indicates the camera and its tripod have been knocked over. He grabs his rifle, then waits apprehensively with his weapon aimed at the tent’s closed zipper. The sound fades into the night time forest. Emma stirs, but does not wake.

  The following morning, Emma checks her camera while Peter examines some paw prints that pass close to their tent. He frowns, then looks around warily, wolf-cats, but where are they? Reluctantly he calls Emma over, “Come and look at these tracks.”

  She examines them carefully, then frowns, “This is the first sign of wolf-cats that we’ve seen over here.” She gazes around, “It probably belongs to a small pack, or even an isolated individual.”

  Peter follows the tracks with his eyes, “It looks like it came here to drink, then headed toward the mountains.”

  Emma frowns, “Why did it just walk past us?”

  Peter shrugs his shoulders, “Not hungry?” He offers suggestively.

  They repack the tent in silent contemplation, then continue their slow trek around the lake. Emma stops at every new plant, animal dropping, insect, and sometimes just stops to look around. With each pause she takes samples, makes notes, then after she examines the surrounding area, they move on. During one of these pauses in their slow walk, Peter contacts John, and while Emma is distracted, talks quietly with him. The walk around the lake should only take them one day, if that. However, by the second night, the pair finds themselves less than half way around.

  Once again, John flies and meets them, this time he has brought along a sonic device. It’s a replica of the wolf-cat repellent idea, from their last dealings with these large carnivores. He hands the device to Peter, “I never thought we would need these things here in this valley.”

  Emma glances at Peter and raises her eyebrows in surprise. When did they organize that? She thinks. After a few seconds she says, “When we surveyed the area, there was no indication that the wolf-cats inhabited this region.” She shrugs her shoulders and adds, “I don’t know what to make of the one that’s apparently here.”

  Peter adds, “Let’s keep this to ourselves, until we know how many we’re dealing with.”

  John raises his eyebrows and says, “Well that may be tough.” He fidgets for second then adds, “I had to get George to make that unit, and he asked questions.”

  Peter considers the potential panic, then says, “Very well, I suppose the town will need a bunch of these anyway, just in case.”

  Emma nods in agreement, “At least until we know where it came from, and if there are anymore.”

  They continue to discuss the wolf-cats, and more, until late in the night. Peter and Emma fail to mention the fishing line, or the wood pile that may, or may not, be an old structure.

  John yawns, looks at the night sky and says, “I’d better get going. It’s late.”

  Before John leaves, he exchanges more empty sample bags for full ones. Just as the night before, John takes the samples to Emma’s team, then returns to the woods. He finds a safe place to park the shuttle, and sleeps. Emma has her people working around the clock, utilizing their equipment twenty-six hours a day.

  John wakes in the morning, then stops mid stretch. His jaw drops at the sight of an enormous snake that is stretched across the outside of shuttle’s main windows. With wide eyes, he reports the large, yellow speckled snake to Emma, then waits for it to slither away before he takes off.

  While packing up their campsite, Emma notices Peter talking quietly into his radio and smiles. Half way through the day, Peter observes that once again, they are close to the base of the mountains. He slows, then asks, “Do you think we should see if we can find any more signs of the wolf-cats?”

  She gazes up at the sun, then grin
s cheekily, “Sure, what’s another day out here? Let’s go!”

  It takes them three hours of exploring and climbing before they find what they are looking for. The small cave entrance has many wolf-cat tracks in the sandy dirt. They probe the interior with their flashlights, then debate whether or not to explore it.

  Peter stares intently into the darkness, “I bet this cave system runs right through to the other side of the mountain.”

  “That makes sense. But the question is, do they come through here on purpose? Or by accident, when they get lost?” Emma’s scientific brain fires the question.

  He examines the tracks, then turns to look at the lake down below them. His eyes narrow, he slowly shakes his head from side to side, “No,” he says with conviction. “Let’s not underestimate these animals. I believe they come into this valley on purpose, both to drink, and for the occasional prey.”

  Emma mulls over his comments for a few moments then says, “They have shown signs of intelligence, so you could be right.”

  Peter marks the location on a map he produces from his pocket, then says, “Let’s come back with a proper team and equipment, before we attempt to tackle this.”

  Emma gazes around, then points at some distant clouds, they appear dark and menacing, “Let’s get off the mountain side, in case it rains.”

  The couple gets to the valley floor just as the first large drops of water begin to fall. Peter hurriedly sets up their tent, while Emma takes photos of the clouds that swirl overhead. They get into the tent as the rain gets heavier and heavier. Luckily, the canopy of trees protects them from most of the downpour.

  Emma’s excitement shows, “This is our first real storm since we’ve been here.”

  Peter raises his eyebrows as the wind picks up, and rain strikes their tent relentlessly, “Don’t you think John should pick us up?”

  She playfully thumps him on the arm, “You’re not scared of a little rain, are you?”

  He sighs, “I was just thinking of the runoff from the mountains, it’s got to go somewhere, and we’re not exactly in a safe spot, what with us being surrounded by trees.”