“Sorry,” Striker said, smiled. “With all the experts on this team it is easy to forget what everyone does.”
Woolf climbed through the oval opening in the wall, his laser in his hand. “Sometimes animals take up residence in these places,” he said, sweeping his scanner as he stepped into the room. “It seems all clear,” he called back.
Striker followed him, with Breanna close behind. A lot of debris cluttered the room, mostly branches, dried leaves and broken stones. In one corner lay a pile of bones, evidence that some animal had been in here. The roof was gone, only a couple of blackened, rough timbers remained.
“Be careful,” Striker warned, pointing up. “Those things look rotten.”
“The walls are older than those timbers,” Woolf said and stepped through an opening into another room. “This is interesting,” he said as Striker joined him. “Look at that fire-pit.”
Striker looked, seeing charcoal logs. “They had fire,” he observed.
“That’s right, but what strikes you as significant here?” Woolf sounded suddenly like a lecturer.
Striker shrugged. “They had a fire-pit.”
Woolf smiled patiently. “These ruins may be old,” he said, “but these charcoals are not.”
Striker had never really been interested in old civilizations. They were dead, that’s all he worried about. Dead civilizations didn’t pose a threat. He gave Woolf a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
“Someone used this place as recent as maybe five years ago,” he said with a triumphant smile.
“That would mean there are people on this planet, living people,” Breanna said, her breath coming fast with excitement. Then she smiled. “I don’t mean humans, but beings with some intelligence.”
“I don’t really know if I can share your enthusiasm,” Striker said. “They may well be hostile.” He scanned the room with different eyes, suddenly aware that they may be facing a new threat to their survival.
“This will be of great interest to Professor Findlay,” Breanna said.
Professor Findlay was the anthropologist, Striker recalled. He also had a degree in paleontology. Striker surprised himself when he remembered that, but then again, maybe it wasn’t such a surprise after all. Professor William Findlay was the oldest member of the team. When Striker read the files on every member on this mission, he tried to familiarize himself with the profession of every one of them, and it struck him as befitting, the oldest man studying things that were old. “I’m sure he will be quite interested,” he said, “but I’m afraid we can’t waste time studying these ruins. Our survival is at stake here, and right now our enemies are time and the weather.”
“Surely we can spare a couple of days,” Breanna begged.
Striker shook his head. “I’m sorry. My greatest concern is the safety of the team, and in the light of this new discovery I’m even more concerned now.” Scanning the room again, he saw another pile of bones buried under some debris. Suddenly those bones seemed to take on a greater significance. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I have a feeling these are not the last ruins we’ll come across.”
They walked back in silence, with Breanna sulking and Striker anxious to get back to the rest of the group. “Let’s keep what we found to ourselves for the time being,” he told Breanna and Woolf.
“Why?” Breanna asked. “They have a right to know.”
“And they will know, when I decide to tell them.” Striker said firmly. “But first I want to put some distance between those ruins and us.”
He decided to call Chu on the com. “We’re on our way back,” Striker told him. “No word to anyone about what you saw. Tell Mian!”
“Understood, sir.”
Striker knew he could count on Chu; after all, Chu was military, used to minding his own business, used to obeying orders without question. Mian as an ex-service man would still be bound by the code.
They left for the ruins at daybreak. When they entered the camp, most of the group were still in the tents. Remington and Gregorchuck were standing by the chasm, apparently studying it.
“Out for a stroll, Striker?” Remington said, watching the three of them approach.
Gregorchuck gave Striker a long stare from under bushy eyebrows. “Where the hell have you three gone this early in the morning?” he bellowed.
Striker patted the water bag he carried. “We thought we should get some more water. I took Breanna along. She wanted to study the fish Chu thought he saw yesterday.”
Remmington grinned hugely. “If Woolf wouldn’t be with you I’d say you wanted to have some time alone with each other. Or maybe you did. Just the three of you.”
“You have a filthy mind, Remington!” Breanna fumed and stalked away.
“She’s got fire, that redhead.” Gregorchuck laughed and winked at Striker. “You may not be able to keep her for yourself, lieutenant.”
“She belongs to herself,” Striker said, “not to me.”
“You two can play house. I don’t care.” Gregorchuck punched Striker on the arm. “I was young once.” His eyes twinkled.
Striker had to smile. Maybe he misjudged the big, beefy man. Under that belligerent attitude he seemed to hide a jovial personality. His wild graying beard made him look older. Striker knew that Gregorchuck was only eight years his senior. “Have you two figured out how we can get to the other side?” he asked.
Remington shrugged. “You’re the leader. You come up with an idea.”
“Maybe we can use the floater,” Gregorchuck suggested.
“I’ll discuss it with Kendrick. He is the engineer.” Striker said. He looked across to the other side of the chasm. It was wider here, but about a hundred meters to the left it narrowed to a gap only ten or twelve meters wide. Gregorchuck might just have a valid idea, he thought. “Stay alert,” he told Remington and walked away, looking for the engineer.
Striker located Kendrick rolling up his sleeping bag. “How’s the arm?” Striker asked.
Kendrick grinned. “Healing, I hope.” He stood up. “Thanks for asking. I wish I could be of more help around here.”
“You can. Gregorchuck suggested we use the floater to get across the chasm. Maybe you can think of a way that lets us achieve that. After all, you are an engineer.”
“I design buildings, not bridges.” Kendrick smiled. “This will be a new challenge for me.”
In the afternoon, they started building the bridge Kendrick designed. With the lasers they cut long, sturdy saplings and branches and built a tripod on their side of the chasm. Woolf, who turned out to be quite handy, took the floater across the chasm and built another tripod on the other side.
Balancing the floater over emptiness was chancy and dangerous. The floaters were designed to float only a meter or so above solid ground. However, Woolf strapped himself onto the flat surface and very slowly and carefully, he crossed the ten meters of open space, pulling a rope with him to the opposite side. With a rope tied to either end of the floater, they pulled it back and forth until Woolf accumulated enough cut timbers to build the second tripod.
Then they tied two ropes to the top braces of the tripod and two to the bottom braces. Woolf pulled the ends of the four ropes across the chasm and tied them to the tripod on his side.
Four short pieces of rope fastened to the floater secured it to the guiding ropes, providing a safe platform that could easily be pulled from one side to the other. Loaded going across, empty going back to be loaded again.
It took the rest of the afternoon to finish the construction and they decided to wait until the next day to cross the chasm.
Breanna joined Striker in his sleeping bag that night again. “I thought you were mad at me,” Striker said as she pressed her naked warm body against his. She laughed softly and let her hand travel across his belly. Touching his penis, she whispered, “I said that I would back you as the leader of this team. You made a decision and I accepted it. Now be quiet and make love to me.”
Striker m
oved between her opening thighs, his penis hard and solid. He slid it easily into her soft, moist vagina and pushed deep. She moaned and slammed her hips against his. Even in the confinement of the sleeping bag, she managed to move under Striker with great passion.
Spent and satisfied they lay in each other’s arms, listening to the sounds of the alien night.
“Do you think we’ll ever get back home?” Breanna asked.
Striker looked up at the still unfamiliar constellations. Only one of the two moons was visible above the treetops. “I don’t know,” he said. “But we can’t give up hope.”
“What if we can never leave here?” Breanna shuddered in his arms. “What then?”
“Then we will try to survive as best as we can,” he told her softly. “We humans are a tough breed. We will survive.”
She snuggled against him. He held her tight, glad that she chose him.
Chapter Seventeen
Space Station
When Beringer entered the captain’s office, he found him studying his computer screen. “What’s so urgent, Jeremy?” Beringer pulled up one of the chairs and sank into it. He smiled. “This is comfortable. Unlike my own quarters. I guess being a captain does have its benefits.”
Cunningham returned the smile and said, “Some.” Then he became serious, touched a control on his desk and let the screen rotate slightly. “Look at this, Les.”
Beringer stared at the three-dimensional image of a room with a door at the other end. Three blinking lights above the door drew his attention. “What am I supposed to see?” he asked.
“You are aware that I have a team of experts exploring this station, right?”
Beringer nodded.
“Well, they’re five levels down right now. So far, they haven’t discovered anything alive. I’m talking about machinery or equipment that works. Until they found this. Apparently, those lights began blinking soon after they entered this room. Other changes have also taken place. For instance, the door that led into this room stood open. After the team entered it, the door closed and breathable air filled the room.”
“The team is trapped?”
“Oh no, the door can be opened. That room is an airlock, fully operational now.”
“There is more, I assume?”
Cunningham nodded. He couldn’t hide his excitement. “Behind the door is a large chamber, filled with electronic equipment and air.”
“Any life signs?”
“No life signs of organic origins. But our scanners are detecting functioning machinery.”
Beringer shook his head. “How could anything be alive down there? This station is ancient.”
“We don’t know. I told Dr. Wong, the team leader, not to proceed until I can get a few armed men to them, in case there is danger.”
“You’ve made the right decision, because now it is the responsibility of the military. I will take a couple of my men and get down there as fast as possible.” Beringer rose. “I will need the exact location of the team.”
“I have a guide standing by,” Cunningham said. His eyes were grave. “Let’s hope our presence here will not be challenged by the owners of this station. This whole thing could have major ramifications. I’m counting on you to handle this situation with extreme caution. Much depends on it.”
Beringer smiled reassuringly. “I have a well-trained team. We ask questions first, before we shoot. Don’t worry.”
Cunningham’s expression was serious. “I do worry, Les. This is no time to crack jokes. Be careful.”
“I will.” Beringer left, headed for the elevator, which took him to the third floor.
The elevator sank slowly down to the lower level. While standing inside the fairly large cabin he studied the strip of blinking lights beside the elevator door. Someone attached numbers beside each of the lights. The technicians, who brought the elevator back to life, managed to figure out the function of the colored circles beside each of the blinking lights, but they failed to decipher the alien letters, or numbers.
He wondered what they would find behind the door he saw on the screen. Possible answers to many questions?
The elevator stopped with a gentle rocking motion, and the door opened. He stepped into the cold looking corridor that separated the sleeping quarters of the officers from the single room where the enlisted men were bunked. His boots made a harsh sound on the hard metal floor as he crossed the short distance to his room located at the end of the corridor.
While most of the living areas in the tower had been modified to create comfortable surroundings for the crew, Beringer insisted that the two floors, which the military occupied, be left in conditions that are more Spartan.
Recognizing his brain pattern, the door to his small suite opened as he approached and closed behind him automatically. Once inside, he activated the personal com in his earlobe. A series of short beeps let him know it was ready.
“Lieutenant Wang, acknowledge,” he said, and within moments the lieutenant answered the call.
“Wang here.”
“I’ll see you in my quarters in 30 minutes. Bring two marines. Full battle gear. And Lieutenant, do it quietly.”
There was a moment of hesitation, and then Wang asked, “Is this a drill, sir?”
“No drill, Lieutenant.”
Again, that short hesitation, then, “Understood, sir.”
Beringer touched a spot behind his ear, a gesture that de-activated his com. Opening a closet he pulled out his combat-uniform. He didn’t know what kind of weapons they might be facing, if any, but the material of the uniform should deflect the burst of a conventional laser.
After dressing, he strapped on his sidearm. He’d be wearing a spacesuit, and the sidearm would be useless, but he felt better with the comforting pressure of the laser against his hip.
He also chose a bulky laser-rifle, hoping he didn’t have to use it.
30 minutes later, he heard the sound of boots in the corridor, and he told the door to open. Lieutenant Wang saluted as he walked through the door, followed by two marines. The visors of their helmets were up. Beringer recognized Cruz and Sisco, both of them capable men, and he nodded his approval. All three carried heavy laser-rifles.
“Permission to speak, sir.” Lieutenant Wang’s black, almond shaped eyes were narrow slits. Beringer knew Wang well enough to know that he wasn’t happy. “Speak,” he said.
“Why the secrecy? If there is a threat, shouldn’t the other men know?”
Beringer smiled. “So far, I’m not aware of any threats to anyone’s safety. There is no reason for alarm. A discovery has been made on the fifth level of the station, and our presence is required, in case there is a threat.”
Wang relaxed visibly, so did the two marines. They were as anxious as the lieutenant to find out why they were here.
“If you gentlemen are ready, let’s go.”
They met their guide by the airlock that separated the tower from the station. After donning spacesuits, they entered the airlock and then boarded an elevator, which took them to the floor of the huge docking bay.
Beringer was familiar with this section of the alien space station. As part of their military exercises his men would get into spacesuits at least once every three weeks, board the small battle cruiser and take it out into space. Sometimes he made them walk on the surface of the giant station. It was like walking on a small asteroid.
Now he squinted up at the two micro-suns 30 meters above. In their harsh light he could see the immense size of the docking bay. Not for the first time he wondered what kind of people built this incredible vessel. He was not an engineer, but he could appreciate the knowledge the builders of the station must have possessed.
Maybe he would soon find out who they were.
A number of black oval spheres were lined up against the far wall, like giant eggs, sinister and mysterious. Since this was a docking bay for space vessels, it was assumed they were shuttles. So far the engineers failed to gain access to them. In fact, mo
st of the space station proved inaccessible.
“I don’t know if you’ve been briefed,” the guide’s voice came over the communicator. “You won’t be able to take off your suits until we get down to the fifth level.”
“We are aware of that,” Beringer said.
“Alright, then follow me.”
Walking in the bulky suits was not difficult in the low gravity. Beringer adjusted the level of his magnetic soles so he could lift his feet without effort.
They reached a door at the other end of the bay, not far away from the alien shuttles. When the guide opened it, Beringer looked into a huge duct. Stepping across the threshold, he realized they were entering a staircase. In the harsh light of a micro-sun, he saw the staircase that wound itself around the outside wall, leaving an open tunnel in the center. A platform supported by ropes from the ceiling turned out to be a temporary elevator.
“It is quite safe,” the guide assured them. “We’ve been hauling men and equipment without any problems. Beats climbing these stairs.”
The platform took them down one level. Leaving the staircase through a gaping hole in one wall, they came out in a large corridor.
The guide noticed Beringer turning around to look at the huge hole, then at the closed door beside it. “We had to use lasers to gain access to this level. Without power we can’t operate these doors. And even with power we couldn’t, because we haven’t been able to figure out the controls.” His tone almost sounded apologetic.
“Too bad,” Beringer said. “It would make things a lot easier.”
“This way,” said their guide, and headed for yet another large hole, into another staircase, and then onto another temporary elevator.
“You’d think they would have built a staircase, which connects all the levels in the station, but for reasons only the builders know it isn’t so.” The guide chuckled. “Who knows how aliens think.”
Beringer didn’t comment. He felt tense, anxious to get to their destination. Gripping his laser-rifle tightly in his gloved hands, he hoped that there would be no reason to use it.
The Xandra (Book 1): Daughter of the Dark Page 11