by Rob Rowntree
He brought the shuttle around, maintaining his flight profile.” Those of you able to might see some animals out of the ports.”
Kiki snarled, “I’m not letting any of you out of your seats.”
“Just thought I’d alleviate some of the tension,” Alan said. “It’s not an intended counter-strike.”
Light played off the creature’s backs, segregated sections of hide reflected contrasts, and caused Alan to blink. He focused the shuttle’s imager, hoping to catch a better view before they were past. The creatures appeared to be running on two legs and they were fast, bodies bent over rather like the extinct Kiwi birds of New Zealand. He discerned reflections coming from plates covering the animal’s backs and head, bony sections of hardened skin giving an impression of armour plating. He relayed the image to the cabin monitors.
Stowe, who’d remained silent until that moment said, “I wonder what spooked them.”
Not really expecting anyone to reply Alan was surprised when Woodland countered sarcastically, “If you saw a bloody great bird zooming across the sky, I’m positive you’d run too.”
“I guess so.” Stowe sounded deflated.
Woodland continued, “Look how they flock, weaving in and out constantly changing the herd’s shape. Clever, since the reflected sunlight would interfere with a predator’s ability to select an individual to catch. It’s quite an adaptation.”
Gibson joined the discussion, happy to be distracted. “I don’t get it. From groundside those traits wouldn’t aid the flock.”
Woodland grinned, “Exactly, their camouflage and flocking behaviour is to deter attack from the air. That’s my guess anyhow. Think of small flocks of birds and shoals of fish, such large numbers are intimidating to predators; constant motion confuses and the reflective plating camouflages individuals. It’s evolution in action folks. It never ceases to amaze me.”
Alan accepted Woodland’s view. It made sense and echoed something he’d considered. As the twinkling island of light dropped behind, Alan found himself searching the skies.
Chapter Seventeen
Worries and Welcomes
“Five minutes.”
Since leaving the animals behind, conversation had melted away. The rapidly approaching ground brought a realisation that perhaps lay best ignored as glimpses of their prospective new home brought nothing but unease.
The tall grassland became tundra-like, presenting moist, cold-looking hollows and rills, spotted with tufts of long weeping stalks that flapped in the breeze. Between patches of vegetation the ground sported a mat of sick, purple, ground-hugging flora - an analogue of lichen or possibly moss. In the late morning light, the vivid colour gave the land an unpleasant aspect, which intensified as they descended, made worse by peaty-pools of dank liquid intermingled with bright ground cover, like sores in a putrid skin.
Ahead, Alan saw the settlement. Covering the same sort of area as a large village back home, tall buildings sprouted from a jumble of flatter structures whose roof-tops lay partially hidden under a spinning nightmare of multiple sails. Windmills, small, tall, thin and thick, all connected via a series of what appeared to be pulleys or ropes. Gears? Were they producing power? Alan looked for vented steam or signs of smoke and saw nothing.
Having taken a turn around the structures earlier to further reduce their speed he’d noted that the images they’d taken from altitude didn’t do the building justice. They were extremely tall, slender and elegant, yet somehow their presence toyed with his expectations – surely they should fall? Gravity’s a bitch and even here it must exert immense stress in the structures’ frames. Something else niggled.
Peering at their edges Alan noticed serrations: rather than having straight sides the buildings construction appeared to be from stacked triangular boxes, each placed atop the other, and slightly off centre. Similar to a child’s playing-block tower about to fall.
Approaching from a much lower angle the building’s apparent fragility became overwhelming. Open sections providing flat porches edged out into the air at regular intervals, drawing Alan’s gaze up towards the tops of the structures.
Woodland coughed for attention, then said, “Have you got any readings on height? They look really tall. But if you count up the box shape sections there are around fifteen stories. Am I missing something?”
“Maybe,” Stowe sounded reticent, like she thought she may be breaking a rule of silence were she to speak. “In Maslov’s recording the natives were shown as being significantly taller than us. That maybe accounts for the apparent height. They sure like the air though. Look at those open windows.”
Alan spotted a road and moments later they were over it and gone. He noted several roads leading into the settlement, each terminating in a junction of sorts. Unlike towns and cities of Earth, no square or park lay there, just a functional meeting of byways. There were no open ground-spaces.
The earlier flyby had allowed Alan to select a raised, open piece of ground backed by a small copse of trees as a landing sight. It sat five hundred meters away from the nearest buildings. Cutting in the engines, he said, “Three minutes. I’ll be firing a ground penetrating radar dart to check out the landing site’s stability. There’ll be a jolt, nothing to worry about. Nothing new that is.”
Kiki laughed, “Nothing new to worry about. God you’re optimistic.”
“You mean there’ll be more to worry about than you?” Alan retaliated. “Kiki, right now I think everyone here would be happy for the distraction. If something new befalls us, you, along with everyone else, will have to cope with that too.”
“You just concentrate on landing us safely,” she threatened. “After that...”
“What?” Woodland said.
Kiki hesitated before saying, “We’ll wait and see.”
The shuttle bucked as the dart shot into the ground and moments later telemetry returned. Relatively dry, with bedrock a kilometre or so down. Landing skids would sink a little, but a little dirt on the feet never killed anyone. “In three, two, one. Landing skids deployed and—”
The shuttle cushioned into the ground, the roar of the engines dying as the little ship settled by the stern.
As the ship ticked and hummed, Alan waited for Kiki’s first edict.
“Okay, this is how we are going to do this.” Kiki rose from her couch and made her way forward. Keeping the gun poised, she paused before Conway who appeared to have fainted. Apparently satisfied, she moved nearer Alan. “Right, out of the seat and over there, into mine. It’s nice and warm. Strap yourself in.”
Alan hesitated, could he risk doing something now? The whack came fast and hard, the gun butt striking the top of his head. Bitch had read his mind. Kiki leant in, “It’s not over until I say so, Alan. I expect you to realise that. Now move.” She pushed the gun muzzle into his throat to emphasize her impatience.
Alan complied; although inside he roiled against the notion of his own impotence. No, wait, be patient.
Taking her vacant seat, he quickly strapped in.
Kiki surveyed the cabin and said, “You will all remain seated. I see any heads popping up and they’ll get some of this.” She waved the gun to stress her point. “There’ll be a brief interval while I set a couple of things up.” Kiki lowered a small flat screen and accessed the touch controls. Intermittently glancing into the cabin as she worked, Alan saw her race through a set of operations and programme deletions. Many of the applications she accessed were ones that Alan hadn’t familiarised himself with, but it became apparent that Kiki had major alterations in mind.
Pickering said, “What are you doing? Isn’t it enough that we’re down? You can just kick us out and be on your way.”
Kiki halted. “Pickering you don’t think I’d leave you lovely folks down here all alone do you?”
Pickering’s response came out as whispered question, but Alan thought it held a note of understanding. “You’re staying too?”
“That’s right. None of us are leaving.”
>
Obviously satisfied with her work she turned to her audience. Before she could speak Conway surfaced, winced and said, “Kiki, even if you succeed in keeping us down here, it will be a waste of time.” Alan thought Conway must only have been dozing; he’d obviously got the gist of the current situation. “As I understand it you have issues with extraterrestrials discovering Earth’s location and believe me, I can understand the logic. But these particular aliens don’t appear technologically advanced, which to me means they won’t be calling ‘round too soon.” He took a few sharp breaths before continuing. “If there’s some sort of space-going ET’s in this system we didn’t spot them. You might also argue that the Earth’s location could have been obtained from the navy expeditions that came before us, although I’d have expected a visit from any race that did before now.”
Kiki smiled, “I reckon that’s right Conway. And that’s the way it will stay.”
“But you’ve overlooked the obvious.” Conway appeared triumphant, even though he clearly felt pain from his wound.
“Really?” Kiki moved towards the shoulder bag she’d left on the deck at the rear of the cabin.
Alan suddenly felt drained.
Kiki had executed her plan well up to this point and now Conway wanted to play mind games? He of all people should realise the extent of Kiki’s intellect, her innate cleverness, and from past events, her determination. As Kiki neared and reached for the bag, Alan began to fear her next step.
“Kiki, the Haqiqa,” Conway sounded like a teacher lecturing an underperforming student. “It’s still up there, orbiting, quietly radiating energy emissions. Sooner or later any space-going aliens in the system or from god-knows-where will pick up those signals and come alongside. Maybe take a look around, find our navigational data and—”
Kiki opened the bag. “And bingo! I have an answer to that.” She brought out a slender black object, into which light slipped as it nestled in her hand.
Woodland said, “The detonator.”
“You didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to retrieve this did you. During all that excitement at those objects; I slipped away and... Well I’ve reassembled it next to the data core. Quantum decoherence bombs can totally mess with your data, rip it clean out of existence.”
Alan must have looked stunned because Kiki rounded on him and said, “What? Changes in circumstance often result in a reappraisal of a situation. I simply thought ahead and waited, watched.”
Alan wished they’d spaced the bomb. He’d been stupid, blinded by... By what? A misplaced trust in human nature to do the right thing? Or possibly something more mundane, something more physical? “So you really would have done it, blown up the ship and have the debris lost in blue-space. A neat solution.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. What’s more, you guys took that choice away. Typical.”
“I don’t see the difference,” Alan said.” Die quickly up there or... We aren’t going to last down here.” God, how resigned did that sound.
Kiki smirked, “I guess I’m just too much of a coward to blow myself up. And ladies and gentlemen, now I give your children and their children safety. She held the detonator aloft and pressed a series of buttons along its edge.”
Conway winced, a phantom sympathetic reaction to the death of his precious ship. Somewhere above, Haqiqa screamed.
Alan noticed Woodland’s cold stare. As Alan watched, Woodland said, “You are a cold-hearted, misguided fool. Anyone with sensitive enough listening gear could locate the Earth. For a good 80 years it outshone the sun in radio frequencies. Even now, with hardened-optical cables and underground linking, the planet leaks information. Your quest is fruitless. You have condemned us to a few months’ existence inside this shuttle.” He fixed her with a condemning stare. “I can’t begin to describe the feelings I have towards you right now.”
Kiki appeared genuinely concerned, “I never wanted for us to fall out like this. I tried to persuade Conway years in advance of our departure; discussion after discussion, I even engineered protests and petitions. Nothing worked, so I got inventive, joined a local cell of Earth-First and began to damage key installations, machinery. I once took-out an armoured vehicle carrying blueprints. Nothing. No, I never wanted it to come to this, but I couldn’t allow you all to expose us—”
Woodland’s shout cut through the cabin like a train, “You stupid, fucking, principled bitch. You’ve achieved nothing. Your madness has only served to kill people. I can’t see how you can justify that, but hey, keep talking. One day you’ll realise what you’ve done and I promise you this; if I’m there to see it, I’m going to make sure you suffer. You got me, Bech?”
In the tomb like confines of the cabin, silence congealed.
Kiki brought the gun up and pointed it at Woodland’s brow. She said, “It’s amazing how the muscles in this finger can become so powerful with a little technology. A few button presses and the Haqiqa’s mind is gone, a slight twitch now and Woodland’s mind is gone.”
Alan felt compelled to act, he said, “Kiki.” She remained fixated on Woodland, as if she hadn’t heard Alan. Louder: “Kiki. There’s been enough killing. We don’t need any more. I doubt even you could be that barbaric.” He prayed she couldn’t. “It serves no purpose. Kiki, just lower the gun and tell us your intentions. How are we going to live for the time we have remaining? Should we delegate and organise? What about re-organising the shuttle’s interior; rig up some more private spaces with towels and blankets and stuff.”
Kiki’s laugh echoed about the cabin. Smiling she moved away from Woodland towards the airlock. “Right everybody, I got lost in our wonderful discussion and nearly forgot.” She glanced at the ship’s clock. “We have around fifteen minutes to get as much food and gear as we can off this boat. Once your seat belts have retracted be very careful. When I tell you, grab as much stuff as you can and pile it up outside. It’s in all our interests. And bring extra clothing too, waterproofs. It looks a little damp outside.”
Conway groaned and said, “What in hell are you talking about woman? I don’t think we should leave. It’s safe here. We don’t know much about the external environment. Best to ease our way out.”
Kiki giggled, “It’s not like you have much time Conway. Just now, did you think I played with the ship’s controls for fun? Fourteen minutes thirty, then puff, a ship full of noxious coolant, ozone and irradiated fuel material. Bad place to live. Don’t you just have to love those pocket fission power-cores.” All the while she spoke Kiki watched her abductees.
Without ceremony, Alan released his harness and set about opening storage lockers and compartments. Other’s followed suit, all except Conway, whose knee appeared to be preventing him from doing anything. Alan turned to Pickering, “You need to help Conway. Find the medical equipment and try to ease the pain.”
“Abrams, I’m not your crew member.”
“Look, Conway may be many things and god-knows there have been times when I wouldn’t have helped him. But you, Pickering, you are his friend. Right now, here, we are all going to need each other. I think the med-bag is in back, next to the fire fighting equipment.”
They worked mostly in silence, Alan taking the lead in arranging the survival materials. Kiki over-saw the effort and remained near the airlock. Alan glanced at her, his look rewarded with a nod. Kiki said, “Okay I’m opening the airlock now and you’d best start moving the stuff out. Don’t forget the food and water.”
Kiki slapped the control and the inner hatch opened. From his vantage point Alan saw wan light flooding into the airlock from the small port in the outer door. This would be it then, exiled from his last link to home, his last link with Jimmy. He had a quick thought, “Hey Kiki, should we take some flat-screen com-pads? We could at least record data, and perhaps note some observations of the place.” He quickly squashed images of Maslov’s last hours from his mind.
Kiki hesitated, “Okay, but don’t take stuff like that at the expense of any survival gear.”
&nbs
p; Gibson interrupted, “Survival gear? One minute you’re killing us, the next you’re discussing the merits of survival gear. What’s with you, Bech? Isn’t it enough just to kill us without taking the piss?”
“No,” Kiki said, “I ...”
Alan saw her uncertainty yet said nothing. “Open the hatch Kiki, it’s getting stuffy in here and I don’t want it to get worse.”
From her position near the inner hatch control panel Kiki entered a quick series of commands. As pressures equalised, a hiss came from the outer hatch as it began to swing aside. Light flooded in, accompanied by a chill breeze. Mustiness hung about the air, scented with something like almonds and pine. An underlying and subtle bouquet of over-ripe melon cloyed at the back of Alan’s throat.
Overcome with the at once familiar and yet unusual mix of scents, he fought for calm. It shouldn’t be like this. Planet-fall is excitement, expectation and a little fear, yet in these last few precious minutes it came as a hurried escape into a fetid dampness of over-familiar scents and a cold breeze.
Rouse yourself Alan Abrams, get the others moving.
“Okay, let’s go. Pickering, you escort Conway, the rest of us will get this stuff outside. To avoid the ship’s contamination move away quickly and try and find shelter. Maybe up slope behind the shuttle, at the edge of the small copse of trees we saw as we came in.”
Woodland led them out; as they exited the ship Alan came alongside Kiki. “What should we do with Locker 1? You know we’ll probably need the weapons, for safety at least.”
Kiki looked tired. “Yes, that’s fine. You’re right.”
With that, she left the ship.
Alan grabbed arm-loads of waterproof clothing and followed.
Outside, wind tugged at his hair. Sound’s carried and he heard noises; a melody of croaking from some nearby pools, chirping and clicks, the wind playfully rustling through long grasses.