Ship Wrecked: Stranded on an alien world

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Brath’s grim attention then turned to the display, still focusing on the retention area. His eyes went wide, and he began to huff and snort. He flailed his arms into the air, similar to how an excited male ape might act back on Earth.

  “I promise … I’m going to help them!” Cameron exclaimed, raising his palms up—a gesture conveying everything was going to be okay, just fine. But deep inside he knew he was lying. He was just as helpless as they were.

  Chapter 46

  The amount of time Cameron had the Loth laboring, unburying the Primion, increased from two hours a day to five hours a day. With the exception of Brath, plus several other larger males, most of the clan of Dalima Climbers had returned to the valley floor—back to their home deep within the forest. Cameron soon coaxed Brath, along with the other male primates—all terribly bitten by the nasty scants—to sleep atop the spacecraft. Not long after, they began to help unearth the ship too; carrying, then depositing, loads of dirt and rock across to the ship’s port side.

  By the end of the fourth day, it became clearly evident to Cameron that they would probably meet XI’s five-day deadline. Every time he thought about telling the droid to shove its threats up its mechanical ass, he remembered poor imprisoned Lalik and the two sisters. No. He would do as told … for now. The crazy droid had won the day. As often as Cameron might risk his own life, he’d never ever consider doing the same with theirs. But still, there had to be a way to get something in return from the droid. The direction things were going now didn’t look good long term—for himself or for the Loth.

  Water rations were running low. Late that afternoon, Cameron, feeling weary from the day’s undertaking, drove the duplicated pickup truck down the ridge road as Brath and the three Dalima Climbers nervously huddled together in the bed of the truck. The Loth hunkered along out in front—moving with far less agility than usual. Only near the last leg of their trip down the mountainside did the Loth quicken its pace, disappearing from sight around the last bend.

  Cameron, now an expert at traversing the streams so almost no water entered the cab, parked at his usual sandy place near the overturned Tangine-Shell. Brath and his fellow primates hurried into the water, swallowing up copious amounts. Then, one-by-one, they hurried away into the trees. Cameron peered up-stream. He would need the Loth’s help, refilling the truck’s bed with fresh water. They’d devised a way to have the Tangine-Shell perform like a big scoop—haul up stream water, then deposit the load into the truck’s bed.

  The valley was ominously quiet. Typically around him he heard an abundance of strange and wonderful Sang-Morang nature sounds: screeching birds, yelping unidentified creatures, and the distant honking of the Minal Loth. But no sounds were evident now; even the usual late afternoon breezes had stilled.

  Cameron kicked off his boots then undressed and slid into the stream. With a heavy heart he gazed toward the trees. No primates would be joining him this evening. Poor Lalik, scared and confused, was locked up within a prison cell back aboard the spacecraft. Cameron, inhaling a deep breath, sank beneath the surface. Even the fish seemed to have disappeared. Sheer isolation of the moment pressed in around him, compounded by growing feelings of guilt. I’ve brought catastrophe to this world. Man’s mere presence did it once again.

  Okay … that’s enough … feeling sorry for poor ol’ me. Wallowing won’t get me anywhere.

  Exhaling whatever air was left in his lungs, Cameron quickly rose up above. Breathing in the cool evening air, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the sounds of nature about him. Once again, the day’s glorious music had resumed—an ensemble of wild and unique intonations. A fish bumped against his bare foot beneath the water’s surface. And there, in the distance, was the Loth. Trudging back his way, a half-eaten carcass—of only God knew what—was grasped within one of its upraised tentacles.

  * * *

  That night, sitting again atop the spacecraft, with his laptop perched upon his lap, Cameron put the finishing touches onto his latest journal entry. Sleeping down below him, he could hear the Loth’s heavy breathing. The only creature never needing to worry about scants biting—not with that tough hide.

  Cameron pulled his sleeping bag up over his shoulders. Evenings were definitely getting chillier; winter soon would be coming to this part of Sang-Morang. Glancing up overhead, his eyes quickly found the familiar sister planets.

  This planet must have a crazy tidal system. On Earth the tides were controlled by the moon and the sun, and since the moon had a much more powerful gravitational effect on the oceans than the sun, things were pretty predictable. Here, however, there were several nearby and large planets or moons, which would complicate things. The closest, with its three soft pink rings, looked almost near enough to touch. He wondered if there was life there, as well. On a whim, he asked, “Alice … can you hear me?”

  A moment later, she popped into view, looking pretty much the same as before—still battered and broken. “Good evening, Cameron.”

  “Hey … I want you to ask XI to stop jamming my Priopax devices.”

  “I can ask, but …”

  Cameron continued, “The ship will be completely unearthed by tomorrow afternoon. I’ve held up my end of the bargain. Tell the droid that the best star ship captains always reward their subordinates when a job is well done. Of course, only the best ship captains are aware of that …” Cameron was perfectly aware that the XI droid was either listening in, or watching their interchange.

  “Why do you need the devices activated? To what purpose?”

  Cameron also knew that was the droid’s question, not Alice’s. “I want to enable the console equipment; the thing that will let me see my home world again. I also want to initialize Art, the group consciousness—”

  Alice said, “XI is fully aware of your conversations with that sole representation of babbling blowhards. No … The captain does not believe that would be a good use of your time.”

  Cameron, feeling a seething hatred returning, literally had to count to ten. Then, somewhat calmer, he said, “In fact, I’ll need all the devices operational. Look, the Minal Loth will not reenter the ship tomorrow without my coaxing. If the droid truly wishes to complete its mission parameters, it will have to make some concessions. Any real captain would know that already. I’m surprised we’re even having this discussion.”

  Alice stared back at Cameron with her one eye. He felt somewhat bad, putting her in the middle like this, but there was too much at stake to worry about that now. The dysfunctional droid needed to understand certain concessions had to take place first in order for it to get what it ultimately wanted. Cameron waited as poor Alice stared mutely back at him. Finally, Cameron added, “Tell the captain we both want the same thing. It is in my best interest also, to get back into space. We’re not at odds here … in fact, were compatriots. Ask the captain if it knows what that word means.”

  “Of course, the captain knows what that word means,” Alice snapped back. “Your devices are no longer jammed. The captain looks forward to getting underway shortly.” The 3D virtual display dissipated away, like a heavy mist lost in the wind.

  Cameron, exchanging the laptop for the dinner plate-shaped Priopax device, found with his fingertips the three indentations along its surface. Activating it, he waited. Soon, he noticed a nearby campfire crackling atop the spaceship—could feel heat emanating—and wondered about the science behind the illusion. The old cowboy Art, straddling a roughly hewn tree stump, had a good-sized ceramic jug balanced precariously on one knee. Hefting the jug up, he offered Cameron a crooked smile.

  Cameron, approaching the campfire, found another tree stump waiting just for him. Sitting down, he accepted the outstretched jug. Could smell the strong acrid alcohol.

  “Careful there, tenderfoot …frontier whisky ain’t nothing to trifle with.”

  Cameron ignored the warning and took a long gulp from the jug. The warm liquid burned his throat all the way down. But it felt good. He needed it. He knew this en
tire experience wasn’t real: Not the hot jolt of alcohol, now burning its way to his stomach, nor the crackling fire nearby, nor the old codger sitting on the tree stump. All effects were not real. He’d been involved with Virtual Reality multi-sensory development projects back at HyperCrell. It was amazing what crudely altering your senses could do to your perception of reality. The monetary implications for a company perfecting such technologies were tremendous. Going far beyond what the gaming industry was striving for: totally immersive real world/alternate world experiences. But this was far beyond that. This simulation was not a special suit. Fabricated touch sensors and vibration engines, or a hidden atomizer, offering up a variety of weird odors on command. No, what this Priopax device simulation offered was completely taking place, he knew, within his own mind right then. A far cleaner, more elegant approach to multi-sensory emersion, nothing like what was actually being worked on back on Earth in Silicon Valley.

  Cameron also knew that the physics behind what was real and what was illusion couldn’t be differentiated as easily as they were in the past. In principle, matter could be broken down into basic building blocks of pure energy. Energy was energy—what illusions, too, were made of. So yeah, Art was only a virtual cowboy offering up a virtual jug of strong spirits. So shut up and just enjoy the moment, he chided himself.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Cameron said, and meant it.

  “Back at you, young man.”

  “I need your help, Art. And not taking sides will no longer cut it.”

  Chapter 47

  With Art’s assistance, Cameron got the complicated Priopax communications console activated. It took them some time, but eventually Cameron had the time/space settings conforming properly to Earth’s current location within the galaxy. Fine-tuning the controls, he was now able to view Larksburg Stand as he had before. Only now, to his utter discouragement, the small mountain hamlet was even more decimated than before.

  Cameron continued manipulating the controls. Adjusting the visual perspective to the point he felt he was almost there among the obliterated mountain neighborhoods. Similar to actually driving along various streets or roads, he soon found Heather’s street. He slowed his progress as he watched the 3D virtual display. “Wait, I must have passed it,” he said to Art.

  “No … you didn’t. Right there, my boy, was your lady’s house. That is what’s left of it.”

  Cameron shot Art a glance. “It’s gone! Rubble. All the homes are gone,” he said, as Art repositioned his hay stalk stub to the other side of his mouth.

  Cameron sat back and thought. “Everyone living there could have been evacuated beforehand.” Continuing to muse about it, he added, “Let’s take a look at the sheriff’s station. Maybe I can track down her father.”

  It took another few minutes before the Larksburg Stand Sheriff’s Station visibly appeared in view. Late evening there, he could clearly see the assortment of blue and silver cruisers, along with the sheriff’s SUV, parked out front. About to move the viewer to the inside of the building, Cameron noticed another car’s headlights swinging into view. Obviously another police cruiser, it parked alongside other city emergency vehicles. He watched Deputy Kirk lumber around the front of the car just as the passenger-side door swung open. A slim girl, or woman, stepped out and motioned, or made a gesture, to Kirk. Perhaps telling him he didn’t need to open the door for her— that she was fully capable of doing such things herself. Cameron, too, had experienced the same sort of interchange a number of times before … with Heather. He leaned in closer, studying the female standing by the car, but he could only see her back. “I need to change the viewing direction …”

  Art pointed his finger to the small manipulator control on the console. “Have at it.”

  Cameron took the control and used it to swing the perspective around one hundred-and-eighty degrees. But the view was still obscured as Kirk’s big head was in the way. Blocking the view, because he was leaning-in for a kiss. Kirk eventually stepped back. Cameron studied Heather’s pretty face. Tried to read her thoughts, but then had enough and didn’t want to know. “I’ve seen enough.”

  “Sure? You alright?” Art asked.

  Hell no—I’m not all right! It was taking all Cameron’s will to just keep his wits about him. He’d just watched the only girl he ever cared about, loved, kiss another man! And it had to be that fucking Deputy Kirk!

  “I’m fine. She’s safe … clearly not in any immediate danger. Let’s move on.”

  The perspective changed again as Art took over the controls. Seeing a much wider view of the town now, Cameron found the extent of damage exhibited—astronomical. And the military presence nothing short of what would be expected for a full-out war. Hundreds of troop carrier vehicles, missile deployment rigs, too many tanks to count, and camo-clad soldiers spread out across the many miles-around the town’s perimeter. Clearly, the mother Griar Loth was still entrenched within the boundaries of Larksburg Stand.

  “Can you show me how to view where the mother Loth is located, Art?”

  “Sure … I can do that.”

  With Art fully manning the controls, the display immediately changed to a subterranean scene. Dark and mostly colorless, the view appeared to be artificially enhanced.

  “What am I looking at here?”

  “Just hold on to your knickers, lad …” Art said, as he maneuvered the view through a myriad of underground tunnels. Surprisingly, they were nearly perfectly rounded and symmetrical, as if some kind of industrial boring machine had been hard at work down there for months, or even years. Visible were offshoots and crossovers, where the tunnels intersected through one another. There seemed to be hundreds of miles of winding tunnels, going this way and that. Beneath Larksburg Stand was a honeycombed labyrinth that would be impossible to navigate through without a clear-cut map. Yet Art seemed to be doing okay. Suddenly, the viewed progression came to an abrupt stop.

  Cameron studied the display. “Looks like some sort of cavern, no?”

  “Yeah … you could say that.”

  “You could fit the Astrodome in there.”

  Art shrugged.

  “There! Go back,” Cameron said, pointing to the left edge of the field of view.

  Art did as directed and, sure enough, an almost indistinguishable movement could be seen. Art adjusted something on the console and the display brightened and the contrast increased. There was the Griar Loth, hunched over what appeared to be several good-sized stones. She moved one of them closer into herself.

  “Those aren’t rocks …”

  “No, my boy, those most certainly aren’t rocks.”

  Cameron was nearly consumed by dread for the second time that night. First, viewing Heather with Kirk, and now witnessing what had to be a half-dozen baby Loth pods. Oh my God! World Book Encyclopedia, Volume P, for Parthenogenesis. Some animals are fully asexual—do not require a male to reproduce offspring, to give birth.

  Cameron and Art exchanged a glance.

  “If a single Loth could wreak that much havoc on a small town, what destructiveness will six of them bring about? And if it is pathenogenic then each of those pods might contain a female Griar Loth as well. And each of them can lay their own eggs in their own new towns. How long before the whole damn planet is swarming with those enormous creatures?” Cameron, not waiting for Art to answer, was all too certain he was viewing the not too distant causation of man’s total, complete, extinction.

  “I’ve seen enough. Shut it down, Art.” Cameron stood and began to walk toward the bow of the ship. Reaching what little still remained of the mountain of dirt, he then turned around and walked back. He stood quietly, staring down at the sleeping Loth beyond the stern of the ship. Concentrating, he tried to see if there was a difference

  Art joined his side, staring down at the sleeping creature. “I’m sure you’ve concluded how they differ from one another. Your Loth, here, is in fact a male … A Minal. One look at that gargantuan, hanging salami between its tentac
les should have given you a hint of that. The other one … the mother, is female … a Minal. She only requires male insemination once in her lifetime. From then on, she’s capable of giving birth scores and scores of times. Puts them out like a factory machine. And let me tell you … these creatures live well into five centuries.” Art gestured to the sleeping Loth, “But that one … no worries. He can’t get pregnant any more than you can. Just thought you’d want to know.”

  “That’s at least something,” Cameron said just above a whisper. So it wasn’t parthenogenesis, it was sperm storage, another trait common in the animal kingdom. “Tell me, what kills them?”

  Art pursed his lips and shook his head.

  “Hey … we’re talking about the total annihilation of my home world, Art. And spare me all talk about cutting off their heads. That’s just stupid. Cameron felt uneasy, speaking of such things this close to the Loth. His Loth. But as far as the mother was concerned, it would have to be done—somehow—by someone.

  “I can’t tell you directly, Cam, my boy. I may be able to lead you to the right path. It will be up to you to …”

  “Connect the dots. I get it. So tell me?”

  “When the time comes. Not now,” Art said.

  “It may be too late by then. Tell me now, so I can make plans … prepare.”

  “Nah … that won’t be necessary,” Art said, tapping several times on his right hip. “Just make sure you’re packing when the occasion arises. And you’ll need to have a damn-near perfect aim. You hear me? Now, I’ve already said too much.”

  Cameron gazed up to the heavens, beyond the sister planet worlds, into the distant blackness of space. Home was out there, somewhere. He needed to return there before it was too late.