Alien Jungle

by Roxanne Smolen

  “So the transport ship dropped everything all the way out here? On your homing signal?”

  “Yes.” His father glared, his voice stronger.

  “How did you move the prefabs, the larger equipment?”

  “Like I said, there was a road. Now, let me ask you something. Did you take this job just so you could prove to your old man that you’re the alpha dog now?”

  “No. I was sent on this mission to save you.”

  “I didn’t need saving. I needed weapons.”

  “The President of the Federation saw it differently.”

  His father snickered. “Jules is involved in this?”

  A sudden hammering came from the door. They both jumped.

  Aldus gave a short laugh. “They can’t get in. They don’t know the code.”

  Trace returned the chuckle. He pictured a massive creature primly keying in the passcode. Then his jaw dropped and his stomach twisted. He looked toward the airlock as it began to cycle open.

  <<>>

  Impani crouched on the floor beside Anselmi. “It is her. Look at the growth, the frill at her neck. Do you realize what this means? The missing colonists. The original scientists. They’re the moss creatures.”

  The plant woman moved as if scanning the room. Impani had the impression that she was locating them by body heat. What if she attacked? How could they defend themselves without harming her?

  Time to take a chance. Impani rose to her feet. “It’s all right, ma’am. We’re Colonial Scouts, here to help you.”

  The woman gave a startled hiss then bolted out the door.

  “Don’t let her get away!” Impani cried.

  Anselmi snagged her arm and pulled her back. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  Impani stared at him.

  “She never left the dome,” he said. “That’s why the lock was still intact. Perhaps a scrap of humanity remains.”

  The child’s photograph. Was that the tether that kept the woman indoors for ten years? The need to be near her family?

  She helped Anselmi up. “Are you hurt?”

  He winced, one hand to his head. “Voices.”

  “She tried to speak to you?”

  “Not her. The plants covering her. All of them. At once.”

  Impani gasped with sudden insight. “You’re the one, the champion who will save us. You’re our only hope to communicate.”

  <<>>

  Trace froze, one hand outstretched, eyes wide in terror. “Move away from the hatch, Dad.”

  “But it’s Cole. It has to be. Only Cole and I know the code to the airlock.”

  Moldy green fingers curled around the edge of the inner door.

  With a flying tackle, Trace knocked Aldus to the floor. His father wheezed. As if in slow motion, the door opened. A moss man stood in the airlock.

  Trace scrambled to his feet and ran headlong into the door. He struck with such force the creature flew backward. He braced his feet, boots sliding, trying to push the door shut as the moss man shoved and pounded to get in. He glanced at his father who sat as if dazed, glanced at his flamethrower across the room where he’d left it.

  A hinge snapped, and the door twisted inward. Trace ducked from a swipe of a moldy arm. At a silent count of three, he leaped backward and simultaneously turned on the resonator.

  The monster recoiled and hissed. At first, Trace feared the sonic waves were no longer strong enough to repel the thing. But it retreated. The airlock was clear.

  Trace stared at the ruined hatch then down at the resonator. He looked at his father and in a small voice said, “The power’s nearly gone.”

  <<>>

  Impani and Anselmi followed the plant woman’s mossy footprints to the room with the ping-pong table. The woman stood motionless beneath the glowing ceiling panels. Recharging. The plants upon her had lived a long time without light.

  She nudged Anselmi. “Go on. Do your telepathy thing.”

  “What should I tell them? That we come in peace? We mean no harm?”

  Impani doubted the plants would believe their sincerity. Not after everything that had happened. “Tell them we regret the violence between us.”

  He nodded then crept forward. Impani followed. She strained her ears as if she might hear their mental discourse.

  “Are they talking to you?” she whispered.

  “I can’t stop them from talking. That’s the problem.” Anselmi frowned, head inclined. “Each plant is sentient, aware of itself—and of us. They accuse us of murder.”

  “But we didn’t know they were sentient. Can’t you explain?”

  “It’s no good. I can’t get through the noise.” He gazed at the woman. “I need to touch her.”

  Impani nearly choked. “You can’t! It’s too big a risk.”

  “Look who’s lecturing me about risks.”

  The woman turned as if hearing them. Her eyeless face seemed impassive. She waited for an answer, Impani realized. She knew what they were saying.

  Anselmi frowned. “I understand this may be ill-advised, but I don’t know what else to do. We can’t bypass this chance. Physically touching her will help me focus on one voice at a time.”

  Impani was awed by the enormity of what he was proposing. Who’s the hero now?

  “Listen,” he whispered, “if the plants take me over—”

  “I know. You want me to kill you.”

  “No. It’s obvious they have the ability to reanimate dead tissue. If they take over my body, run. Just leave me here and get out.”

  Pulling off his gloves, he approached the motionless woman.

  <<>>

  Biting hard against fear, Trace wrenched open the mangled inner door and faced the airlock. When nothing leaped out at him, he stepped through and gazed outside.

  Night thickened the air, and mist laced the darkness. Black mushroom caps scalloped the sky. He imagined hordes of moss creatures surrounding the ship—led by one who knew him all too well.

  How long before Cole ordered the attack?

  The idea of his friend and mentor smothered beneath a mass of mold sickened Trace. Why hadn’t he recognized that the number of creatures the weather satellite had picked up was the exact number of missing colonists plus the scientists from ten years ago? At least it explained why the original Scouts hadn’t reported life forms. There hadn’t been any plant beings until the scientists succumbed.

  The planet had colonized the colonists.

  But why? Was it possible to negotiate? Trace pushed the questions to the back of his mind. He would learn the answers firsthand if he allowed the moss men to overrun the Lander.

  He pulled the hatch shut and hurried from the airlock. “What kind of sensors does the Lander have?”

  Aldus held out his empty hands. “I… I don’t understand. How did those monsters get the passcode?”

  Trace hoisted him up and shook him. “Come on, Dad. You said the ship had sensors when you landed. Are they sonic or microwave?”

  Aldus blinked, eyes glistening. With a frustrated shove, Trace released him and moved to the control hub. He tried to make sense of the panels. Here and there, lights flashed on stand-by.

  “Power. Power,” he murmured.

  “What are you doing?” Aldus said as if waking. “If you’re planning to fly this heap back to camp, I can tell you right now—”

  He broke off as light bloomed in the cabin.

  Trace nodded. “Power.”

  “But not enough.”

  “Not for flight, no. But enough for continuous short-range sensors.”

  “Creating a creature deterrent.” Aldus gazed at him as if in wonder. “You do come up with some novel ideas.”

  “Right. My last idea went up in flame.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, son. It was a good plan. It’s just that when you deal with so many people, you can’t control the outcome.”

  Trace snorted and didn’t look up.

  “Madsen saw the whole thing,” Aldus said. “One of
the guards tried to cross the trench without extinguishing her flamethrower. Might’ve been okay. But in the hustle to get across, she got knocked off the bridge.”

  Trace closed his eyes. So that’s what happened. “Still, I’m the leader. Everyone blames me.”

  “Not my crew. How’d they treat you before coming out here? With the respect you deserve, I’ll wager. Just like they don’t blame me for all this.” He gestured as if to encompass the world. “Not to my face, at least.”

  Trace turned from the panel. “Well, I blame you. You shouldn’t have brought them here.”

  “No.” His father slumped as if suddenly older. “I had my eye on the prize. Hell, who wouldn’t? Feed the starving and cure a deadly disease? I just lost sight of…” He stumbled to a chair and sank upon it. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my lifetime, Trace, but none weigh so heavily as what happened with you and your mother. But you’ve got to understand. She didn’t want me to see her like that. She said she would have me remember her as young and vibrant. She made me promise.”

  Trace scoffed. “Sure.”

  “Part of me wanted desperately to keep that promise,” Aldus said. “I loved her so much. I couldn’t bear to see her suffer. But part of me wanted to sit at her bedside and touch her face one last time.” He grimaced as if disgusted by a scene playing out in his mind. “But I didn’t. I immersed myself in fundraising, convinced that I did her bidding. And I told myself that you were in good hands.”

  “Cole is my friend, but he wasn’t my father.”

  “I know.” Aldus looked up. A tear coursed down his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  Trace blew out a breath then sat beside his dad. “You know that was Cole we saw just now.”

  “I can’t accept that.”

  “You said it yourself. Only you and Cole knew the code.”

  “Then, all my missing people…” Aldus shook his head. “What does it mean?”

  “I hope it means they’re all still alive. Otherwise, how would it know how to get in?”

  <<>>

  Impani held out her arms, wanting to pull Anselmi back, wanting to stop him. She watched in mounting trepidation as he approached the plant woman then took her moss-covered hands in his own.

  For a moment, they didn’t move. Impani inched forward until she could see Anselmi’s face. His eyes were closed, his expression blank as if he were in deep communion. He looked peaceful.

  Her muscles uncoiled, and she blew out a breath. It must be working. Her fears were unjust. She took a step back and watched.

  Suddenly his eyes flew open. He flinched as if holding something hot. Gasping and writhing, he tried to break free.

  The plant woman would not release him. Gray-green moss flowed from her hands onto his.

  “Stop!” Impani grabbed Anselmi’s arm and pulled.

  His hands were indistinguishable from the woman’s hands. The flowing moss melded them together. Anselmi twisted and thrashed. He threw back his head and screamed.

  Impani stared in panic at a leafless tendril growing inside his mask.

  CHAPTER 21

  Impani snarled, “Stop! Let him go!”

  She shoved the plant woman and tried to drag Anselmi away. Anselmi shrieked. His voice echoed her panic.

  Oh God, oh God.

  She pried at their arms, her boot wedged against the plant woman’s chest. Pushing. Pulling. What was she going to do?

  “Here!” she cried. “Take me instead!”

  The woman didn’t budge. Moss rippled down her arms and up Anselmi’s. Impani spun and aimed a solid kick into the woman’s back. It was like striking a boulder. Pain radiated to her hip.

  “Damn you!” She raised her flamethrower. But if she fired, she risked burning her friend. Instead, she butt-ended the woman’s head. Then she swung the gun down upon their linked arms and chopped at their hands. Her yells punctuated each blow. “Let. Him. Go.”

  Their arms elongated like pulled taffy. At last, Anselmi tore free. Strings trailed his mossy fingers. He dropped to his knees.

  With both her gaze and her gun trained on the woman, Impani ducked beneath Anselmi’s arm and pulled him up. How could she have thought a human remained within the monster?

  She shuffled backward with Anselmi heavy upon her shoulder and edged toward the outer hatch. The moss thing raised its arms to the light as if paying homage to its god. Impani hauled Anselmi through the airlock then slammed the hatch shut.

  She stood weak-kneed, replaying the horror, feeling that she might be sick. Should have blanketed the room in flame. Then Anselmi groaned and snapped her back to the present. Backed against the wall, she glanced about the black-misted night. They might have been safer inside with only one monster to fight.

  With narrowed eyes, she stared into the impenetrable fungus jungle. She couldn’t carry Anselmi back to camp. Neither could she stand there—a waiting target. Should she activate her Impellic ring and transport them back to Central? She shook her head. Robert and Natica were already gone. If she left too, Trace would be stranded. She couldn’t stand it if anything happened to him.

  At the thought, she keyed her com. “Trace? Trace, do you read?”

  She wanted so much to hear his voice that, for a moment, she thought she could. But it was Anselmi muttering feverishly. With a firm hold on his waist, she hoisted him higher and forced him to walk.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m getting you out of here.”

  “You were supposed to run.”

  “I would run.” She panted. “If you would move a little faster.”

  She looked behind, one eye on the hatch, one eye on the jungle. Anselmi pressed upon her. He moaned.

  She jostled him. “That’s right. Keep moving. You’re doing fine. Can you communicate with them?”

  “I feel them.” He gasped. “Moving. Inside me.”

  “Like parasites?”

  “They want to take over my body.”

  “Tell them to stop. Tell them that taking over a person’s body is not a good first step toward friendship.”

  She staggered forward, bolstering him. Her legs trembled with his weight. With a grunt, he stumbled, slipped from her grasp, and struck the ground.

  “Anselmi!” She grasped his shoulders then glanced about as if help were on its way. What should she do? She had to get him back to camp.

  “They don’t understand friendship,” he murmured.

  She took his moss-covered hand in hers. “This is friendship. I won’t leave you.”

  He nodded. Breath rattled in his throat.

  Oh God.

  Her fingers shook as she pulled out her med-pac and went through her supplies. There was an analgesic, antidotes to poisons and venom, an antibiotic… She loaded everything she had including the multivitamin into the derma-jecter. Clearing a spot on his wrist, she injected him with the heavy dose.

  “The plants don’t kill you,” she whispered like a litany.

  Despite what had happened, she was certain something human remained in the plant woman. That was why she wouldn’t leave the dome. The woman’s volition was stronger than the plants’ compulsion.

  “They are becoming adept at this,” Anselmi said. “At first, when they entered a person’s body, all they did was make them ill.”

  “But why go inside a person at all?”

  “To learn. To understand.” He groaned as if in pain. “They’re having difficulty with my anatomy.”

  “Tell them what they’re doing is wrong.” She shook him. “Anselmi?”

  His head lolled.

  Impani looked around, desperate for inspiration. She could make a litter, strap mushroom trunks together with those cordlike vines. But those were the vines that had trapped Trace and Natica when they’d first arrived onworld. She couldn’t risk having them trap her, too. Then she remembered the ATV that Trace and Robert found. Would it still run?

  She pulled Anselmi to his feet. “Up. Wake up.”

  “What?
Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to see if the doctor can remove your parasites.”

  She walked him down the middle of the paddock. In the dark, the mossy mounds looked alike. She scoured her memory for landmarks and finally reached what she believed to be the ATV. She leaned her partner against the side.

  He panted. “What must you think of me?”

  “I think you win the hero competition.”

  He chuckled then grimaced and grasped his chest.

  Impani ripped away vines to reveal the headlight they’d found before. Then she uncovered a wide tread. Good. At least, they wouldn’t have to worry about flat tires. She continued along the side until she found a door.

  Anselmi groaned and slumped.

  She caught him before he hit the ground. “No, no. Stay awake. You have to fight it.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Talk to them. Talk to me. Just try to hang on.”

  With her partner braced against her shoulder, she wrenched open the door. It sounded like tearing metal.

  “Up you go. That’s right.” She helped him over the tread and into the cab.

  Fist deep in moss, she climbed atop the ATV to clear the windshield. When at last she was satisfied that she’d be able to see where she was driving, she slid into the driver’s seat.

  The cab’s interior was mildewed but free of growth. Impani groped the darkness for the controls. The dashboard lit. She blew out the breath she’d been holding and grinned. “Battery life of five billion years.”

  Anselmi hunched forward in a coughing fit. Pink dust exploded behind his facemask. He retched. Impani hesitated then pulled off his mask. Vomit spattered over his lap and onto the floor.

  She touched his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “They are confused by my spinal column.”

  She chuckled. “External, isn’t it?”

  He coughed and sagged against the seat.

  Impani started the engine. The vehicle lurched. With one headlight to guide her, she pushed into the trees.