The Ancients (The Survivors Book Four)

by Nathan Hystad

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright ©

  Books by Nathan Hystad

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BY

  NATHAN HYSTAD

  Copyright © 2018 Nathan Hystad

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover art: Tom Edwards Design

  Edited by: Scarlett R Algee

  Proofed and Formatted by: BZ Hercules

  Books By Nathan Hystad

  The Survivors Series

  The Event

  New Threat

  New World

  The Ancients

  The Theos

  Red Creek

  Follow Nathan’s Newsletter here for book release information and special giveaways

  One

  I emerged from the tunnel as a gust of wind buffeted me with enough force to push me down. I slid on the icy sloped surface, shouting a warning to Slate, who was still safe in the confines of the cavern. We’d been expecting frozen mountains, so my suit had small built-in ice picks that I now extruded, swinging my arm to lock into the surface. I lay there flat on my back. The only thing keeping me from descending the angled hill into the unknown was the pick on my suit’s sleeve, embedded into the frosty cliffside.

  “Need some help, boss?” I heard Slate ask through my earpiece.

  Drafts of cold air poured over me as I lifted my head up to see how far I’d gone. At least twenty feet, which was more than I’d thought. “Toss me a rope.”

  Seconds later, I heard something hit the ice beside me, and I grasped out with my free hand, clutching the strong, thin cord. When I had it wrapped around my arm, it started to tug at me, and I braced myself. Slate pulled me up in smooth strokes, and I slid on my back at an incline to the hole I’d exited. Slate’s head poked out of it, his face determined through his EVA mask.

  He dragged me into the opening with him, and I sat down, breathing hard.

  “If you guys are done playing, we have a job to do,” Mary said, finally coming up the tunnel that led from this world’s portal. She was recording everything, taking her time behind us, and hadn’t seemed to notice my misadventure.

  “Sure. We’re done goofing around,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. I’d been careless to move forward without scouting ahead first.

  “What do we know about the outside?” she asked.

  Slate took this one. “We know it’s as cold as Christmas at the Campbell house, and the wind’s pushing fifty miles an hour. We’re halfway down a mountainside, with nothing but ice and gloom surrounding us at all angles.”

  He’d concluded this from sticking his head out for ten seconds while throwing a rope to me.

  “This could be the planet we’ve been waiting for. With all of this ice, we have enough water to feed ten thirsty worlds.” I stopped leaning against the wall, my heartrate finally back to normal.

  “We’ll take samples and talk to the others. I have a good feeling here,” Mary said, activating the cleats in her boots. The one-inch metal blades jabbed out, giving her firm footing as she climbed toward the exit. Why hadn’t I remembered them?

  I peered down, seeing Slate’s cleats already out, and I tapped my arm console, feeling them protrude out of my boots before sinking into the icy surface.

  “We’ll head for the surface. Let’s see if we can climb; otherwise, we use the packs.” I took my thruster and slung it over my shoulders, wearing it like a backpack. The belt clasped around my waist, I made for the opening to the cold world.

  “We’ll find a suitable planet for our terms with the Bhlat.” This from my wife.

  My wife. I couldn’t believe we’d been married for almost a year already. “I’m heading out. Clamp on.”

  Once we were tethered to each other, I took the lead, guiding us up and outside. This time, I was ready for the onslaught of pressure and leaned into it. With a glance behind me, I saw the others do the same, and we moved as a unit in a straight line, snow crossing sideways at us.

  I took a second to get my bearings, which wasn’t easy in the storm. Everything was white as far as the eye could see. Peaks and valleys littered the landscape, and the small amount of information we had on this world told us conditions would be similar across the small planet.

  My suit kept me warm, and my arm console’s readout told me the outside temperature was minus forty-five Celsius. Not something you wanted to stay in too long. The ground was hard, ice packed down God knows how deep. The wind kept the snow from sticking to the surface, and the pure ice was so clear, I could see at least a few feet down through it.

  My boots dug in with each step, softly sending shards and slivers flying as we pounded our suits down the decline of the mountainside.

  “Hold on a minute. I’m going to take a sample.” Mary stopped at the rear of our line and knelt, pulling a core drill from her pack. It was compact, and she had it set up in a few minutes. I took the time to scan the horizon, looking for signs of reprieve from the whiteout conditions. I couldn’t see any. For all I knew, this planet had storms like this nonstop.

  The sounds of the core driller carried through my helmet, and soon Mary was taking the ice cylinder and adding it to a freezer box in Slate’s pack before she stowed her supplies away.

  We were about a half mile from the ground. I looked forward to getting the samples there and moving on. We already had our air readouts, and I doubted there was much life on this planet. I wanted to hand over a lifeless rock to the Bhlat, if possible, and it appeared this just might be the right one. It was light outside, the system’s star a great distance away. It was enough to provide brightness when the weather conditions were more ideal, but not enough to give the world much warmth.

  We made the trip down without any issues, though it took longer than we wanted. A few times, I nearly turned on the thrust pack, but we eventually made it down the short cliffs without needing to. It had a limited fuel source when used in atmosphere. Out in space, the smallest amount of drive kept it going for long distances, as long as you weren’t worried about time.

  I approached the bottom of the first leg of our trip, and was met with a wall about five feet high. It was pure ice, slick as a cube in one of Magnus’ scotches. I couldn’t see around it.

  “What do you think? Head over it?” I asked, turning to Slate, who shook his head.

  “Blast it.” The ever-ready soldier slipped his pulse rifle from its spot on his back, an
d I stepped away, my tether to him pulling tight.

  Mary stood beside me. Slate was right in front of us, and he pulled the trigger, red beam cutting into the ice block. He held it there, and soon a hole the size of a small door was open through it.

  Mary moved forward and pushed her head into the space. “The surface is just a little way down. There’s a small cliff. I say we get through, then use your pack to carry us the rest of the way. We’ll have enough juice to fly back up after.” She started to wiggle through the four-foot-deep opening, crawling so we could only see the sharp bottoms of her boots.

  “Be careful,” I said, but I was too late. I caught her swear in my earpiece, and her feet disappeared from view. “Mary!” I yelled, bracing myself for the inevitable tug once the tether took hold, but it didn’t. Slate was jerked lightly, then he fell backward, looking down to see the carabiner empty of her rope. The clasp was broken.

  “Mary!” I yelled again, sliding my body into the hole and feeling Slate grab my feet. I could see Mary down the steep ice slide, and she wasn’t moving. “Mary, come in.” No response came.

  Without thinking, I started the thrust pack, soft blue light pushing out and down from behind me. I used the controls and lifted up, dragging Slate with me. He hung below, without so much as a cry or complaint, and we rose into the air, over the wall of ice. I descended to the spot where I’d seen Mary’s unmoving body.

  “There,” Slate said, pointing down, and I lowered almost too quickly, the pack threatening to spin us out of control. With a twist of the controls, I recovered, and we landed ten feet from Mary. The ground was even here; I unlatched myself from Slate and ran to her side, tripping on my cleats as I did so.

  I didn’t care. Only Mary mattered. “Mary,” I whispered, seeing her lying there lifelessly. She was facedown, but nothing looked unnaturally bent. I turned her over to see her eyes closed, and I grabbed her arm, checking her vitals on her console’s readout. I saw her pulse rate at the same time her eyes fluttered, then opened.

  “Dean?” she asked groggily.

  My heart nearly broke with relief. “Mary, can you move your fingers?” She did. “Toes?” I saw her boots adjust ever-so-slightly. She nodded. I saw blood freezing around a cut on her forehead, but other than that, she seemed okay.

  “I hit my head. We’ll keep an eye on it.” She pushed herself up into a sitting position and I held her arm, propping her up on the freezing ground. She looked around, and I joined her, getting a new vantage point on the land. We were in a valley that ran for a few miles between opposing mountains. “We still have a job to do.”

  “You can take a break. You could have killed yourself back there,” I said, but she was already taking the core driller out.

  Slate trudged back toward us. I’d seen him leave after he saw Mary was okay. “The wind calms a hundred yards that way.” He pointed down the valley. “We can send our probes out there.”

  Mary grabbed her ice sample, lifting it to look through it into the cloudy sky. She tossed it to Slate, who deftly caught it before stowing it away into his pack.

  “Help me up?” Mary asked, extending her arm. Once on her feet, she was a little wobbly, and I kept my hand around her as we followed Slate. The wind pierced us, making each step more difficult than it should have been.

  The ground leveled out, and the wind lessened as we went. Slate stopped, lifting his hand up to tell us to do the same. “The wind slows around here. We can take a break and watch the probes.” He unslung his pack and pulled out a small bundle. With the tug of a ripcord, a tiny shelter opened up. It wasn’t much, but it would keep us covered, and all three of us could fit inside the cramped space.

  We’d used one on a previous trip, and the memory of us all sweating inside the tent, hiding from mosquitos the size of bats, wasn’t one I’d soon forget. We’d considered taking two shelters this time, but pack real estate was valuable, and with a team of three, we’d had to prioritize.

  I dropped my thrust pack, happy to have the strain off my back, and dug out the probes attached to it.

  We had three drones, each with a hundred probes inside them. We’d fly them, dropping the sensors as needed. They also recorded the landscape, giving us more information than the Gatekeepers had of this world.

  “Link up,” I said, and we connected each arm console to one of the flying devices.

  “Done,” Mary said, her drone lights turning green.

  “Done.” Slate’s turned yellow.

  “Done.” Mine emanated a soft purple glow as it powered up, ready to be controlled.

  Leaving most of our supplies outside, we made our way into the tent, happy to be out of the snow and wind. I was once again thankful the EVA suit wasn’t bulky like the old NASA ones. Things had come a long way, and with our new network expansion, our technology was improving all the time. Clare was back on New Spero, working with a team on what she called “game-changing” projects. I couldn’t wait to see what she came up with.

  The tent left us enough room to all sit next to each other. A tablet lay on the ground between us, showing the camera views of our three drones. Right now, we only picked up blurry white images as they lay on the ground outside.

  “Calibrated. I’m lifting off,” Slate said, and we could see the camera feed on the tablet between us.

  Soon two more images streamed in as all three drones were in the air and hovering. The wind jostled them around, but they were made for all conditions and fought their way through. We knew which way to go with each of them, as we kept this aspect consistent on each world we’d visited. I honestly couldn’t believe how many planets were vacant of any kind of life. But there was water here, and that likely meant organisms.

  Mary nodded toward the tablet. We all looked out the corners of our eyes as we continued to control our own drones. Hers lifted high into the sky, and we could see a break in the storm to the east. She dropped some probes and kept moving.

  Mine was heading south, and things were getting worse as it went. The clouds became darker, spewing heavy sheets of snow on the already pristine white landscape. I let out a probe every few minutes, constant information feeding from them to our tablet, storing a backup in our suits’ computers at the same time.

  “It’s getting warmer,” Mary said, talking about the temperature at her drone’s location.

  I glanced at Slate’s image, and his looked much like mine. His drone headed northwest, while mine veered southwest. We’d circle back at a slightly different trajectory, trying to capture as much area as we could. The probes would pan out, giving us a good idea of the lay of the land.

  Clearly Mary had hit the jackpot here, because while our drones threatened to give us no visuals in the storm, hers was showing vibrant skies and an ice-blue ground.

  “It’s beautiful,” our big counterpart said quietly and cleared his throat, as if suddenly self-conscious he’d said anything.

  “It is.” Mary lowered and shot another probe out. The temperature readout showed minus twenty Celsius, a vast difference from the minus forty-eight Slate’s displayed.

  We kept powering through the storm, recording everything we could, but it was Mary’s images that piqued our interest. Ice hills rose and danced along an otherwise flat area; the mountains Slate and I still played in were long gone in the east. Sunlight glimmered off the icy surface, and I thought how much “younger Dean” would have liked to strap on a pair of skates and go for an adventure down the slippery countryside.

  “My drone’s getting beat up out here. I think it’s time to turn around and head home,” I said.

  Slate nodded. “Mine too.”

  We went through the motions and set them on autopilot, back to our location.

  “What’s that?” I asked, now giving my full attention to the clear picture from Mary’s drone. I saw light reflect back at the camera for a moment.

  “Just light off the ice, I think,” she said.

  “Can you take it in closer?” Slate asked.

 
; “I’m not sure what you guys think you…” Her words were cut off as her jaw dropped.

  We all saw it at the same time. It was the first sign of another civilization any of us had seen here, and it stuck out like a sore thumb. There was a piece of metal jutting out of the ice. From the drone’s data drop, it was just over ten feet tall and twice that long.

  “What is it?” Mary asked, but we remained silent. We didn’t know.

  “Get as close to it as you can,” I said, a nervous tremor tickling my throat.

  “Wait!” Slate said as she was lowering.

  “What is it?” I blurted out, but he was already moving closer to the tablet. “Pull up and head that way.” His large gloved finger pointed to the left side of the screen. Mary didn’t argue but followed his instructions.

  “Oh my God,” we said in the same instant.

  “It’s a symbol.” Mary let out a shrill laugh of excitement. She leaned over and hugged me.

  I didn’t recognize this one, but it was clearly of the same make as the rest of the portal icons. Was it a sign for whoever found it to follow through the portal?

  “There’s something else,” she said, depositing a probe toward the metal symbol. “Just as I thought. It’s warm. There might be something under the surface.”

  “How did you know?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “See here.” She zoomed in. “There are small pools of water where the metal breaches out of the ice.”

  We kept the drone there for some time while I tried to recall the hidden maps from the portals that Kareem had entrusted solely to me. Sarlun had asked about it when I told him of my promise to the dying Deltra. I had seen frustration across Sarlun’s face as his proboscis twitched, but he didn’t press me.

  “It might be one of the locked-away worlds. I just can’t recall them all.” These two knew of their existence, but we hadn’t visited any of those planets yet, and I planned on staying away from them if possible.

  “Look around the symbol.” Slate ran a finger in a circle over the metal in the image, and I squinted to see what he was seeing. Once I did, I couldn’t unsee it. “The ground sinks in a concave ring in a perimeter around the mark. I think there’s something under it.”