CHAPTER 22
Trace and his father sat side-by-side in the Lander. The only light came from the flickering instrument panels; Trace insisted upon conserving as much energy as they could.
Aldus said, “Remember the time she found that baby bird in the forest, and she brought it back to the farm to nurse it to health?”
“And it turned out to be a Gargantuan Horn-head?”
“And it grew and grew.”
They laughed.
Trace said, “I remember her running through the yard, flapping her arms, trying to teach it to fly.”
“That bird had a wing span wider than this ship.” Aldus shook his head and chuckled. “When your mother made up her mind to do something…”
“I miss her.”
“I know. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. Wish we could get this planet to work right, propagate Susan’s Gift.”
“She’d like that.” Trace got up and walked to the hub. A screen showed a pulsing circle with flashes of movement along the perimeter. “The creatures are still testing our sensors.”
“Well, let’s hope you think of a way out of here before they figure a way inside.”
“Me?”
“You’re team leader. And you’d better hurry. I’m getting hungry.”
Trace puffed out his cheeks and leaned against the control panel. “If we can get communications running, we can contact camp and arrange to be picked up.”
“A stellar idea. Exactly what I did the last time I was trapped here.”
“You’ve been through this before?”
His father’s face fell. “That’s how I knew Cole would show.”
Trace looked away. They’d both lost a friend. After a moment, he said, “The problem is we don’t have enough power to keep the sensors up and send a message at the same time. As soon as the creatures realize the barrier is gone, they’ll be all over us.”
“Won’t the airlock hold?”
“Cole knows how to open the hatch. Too bad you can’t rekey the passcode.”
Aldus’ eyes widened. “Now, that’s worth a try.” He snapped up a flashlight from a supply cabinet on the wall and rushed across the room.
Trace walked around the hub to the communications console. Although the panel was dark, he could see that the controls were standard. He didn’t doubt he could get a message through. But he felt strangely reluctant, as if he would rather hide in the Lander and not face the looming repercussions. More than likely, the Board would dismiss him for failing to follow orders. He’d go back to the penal colony. Impani would go on without him.
“I think I’ve got it,” Aldus called. “Yes. The hatch is rekeyed.”
“Good. I’m rerouting energy. Sensors are offline.”
“Our friends should be paying us a visit anytime now.” Aldus returned to the hub.
Trace opened a channel. “Lander to base. Come in. Lander to base. Do you read?” He flinched at a burst of static. “Let’s hope someone’s around to pick up our hail.”
“The call will go into the weather station. One of the meteorologists will be there.” Aldus’ words were confident, but his expression was not. He looked tired and old, the dim light drawing deep lines across his face.
“Lander to base. This is Trace Hanson. Can anyone hear me?”
A voice broke through the crackle. “Trace? Is that you? Hang on. Hey, it’s Trace Hanson.”
Then another voice. “This is Madsen. What’s your situation?”
“Dad and I are trapped in the Lander.”
“Did you find Cole?”
Trace glanced at his father then said, “Cole… isn’t with us.”
There was a pause, and then Madsen said, “We’re sending someone to get you.”
Aldus bent over the console. “You’d better tell them to bring a tank. We’re surrounded.”
“Not a problem. Impani just came in driving an armored car from the old settlement.”
Trace’s heart did a double flip at her name. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, but her partner’s in bad shape.”
“What happened?”
“Looks like that mysterious respiratory infection got him.”
<<>>
Impani gazed through the hatch of a quarantine bubble. Inside, Anselmi lay on a gurney amid a mountain of portable scanning and monitoring devices. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow. His usual pallor was mottled as if mold were rising up through his skin.
The uproar was intense when she brought him back to base. The colonists didn’t want an infected outsider in their midst. But Dr. Abrams took him in without hesitation. In fact, the doctor had not left his side.
As if on cue, Dr. Abrams looked up. She was fully gowned. Behind the faceplate, her eyes seemed magnified. She motioned Impani toward an intercom set in the wall.
“You should rest,” the doctor said through the speaker.
“I can’t,” Impani told her. “How is he?”
She paused then said in an undertone, “I don’t know how to help him.”
“But he looks good. I mean, he isn’t covered in plants.”
“They’re inside,” Abrams said, “entrenched with his nervous system. Occasionally, they fire off an electric impulse and make him twitch. I think they’re learning the controls.” She looked at Anselmi as if fascinated and repulsed at the same time. “My other patients must be going through this. I didn’t recognize what I was seeing.”
Impani considered the other colonists quarantined with the respiratory ailment. At any moment, they could become moss creatures themselves.
Just then, Anselmi opened his eyes. He turned his head and offered her a horrific smile. His teeth were rimmed in black, his lips cracked and bleeding. Slowly, laboriously, he gave her a thumb’s up.
<<>>
Trace glanced toward the sound of footsteps on the roof of the Lander. “Didn’t take them long.”
“Better get those sensors back up,” Aldus said.
“Transferring power.”
He heard a bang and then a hiss. Sparks flew from the panel.
Trace leaped back. “No!”
“What was that?”
“I think we blew a relay.”
The control hub went black, pitching them in darkness. At the same time, heavy pounding sounded at the hatch.
Aldus shone his flashlight toward the airlock. “They can’t get in. They can’t get in,” he whispered, as if repetition would make it true.
More footsteps crossed the roof.
“They’re going for the windows,” Trace cried, then jumped as something struck the glass. He took the light from his father and played it over the control board. “Put your hand on this toggle. When I tell you, throw the switch. Got it? We’re going to be okay, Dad.”
Holding the flashlight in his mouth, he crawled beneath the control hub and ran his hands over the access plates. One felt hot. He wrenched it open. Smoke hit him in the face. He waved his hand then peered inside. He would have to run a bypass.
Outside, the pounding grew. It reverberated from the ceiling, the walls, as if the Lander were encased in moss men, each of them hammering to get inside. Trace wanted to cover his ears. Sweat mixed with the acrid smoke, burning his eyes as he worked.
Then he heard breaking glass. Shards struck the floor.
He willed his hands to steady as he completed his repairs. Spitting out the flashlight, he yelled, “Now!”
Aldus threw the switch.
A shriek cut through the air. Dozens of voices rose as one in an ear-wrenching wail. Trace covered his head and felt his own scream tear from his throat.
Abruptly, the moss men fell silent. Trace crawled out from under the hub and stood at his father’s side. He ran his light over the windows. One had a web of cracks and a jagged hole. He expected to see a moss man struggling to crawl through the opening but no one was there.
“Did we kill them?” his father asked.
Trace walked to the
sensors panel. His hands shook. The silence was as unnerving as the howls. “No.” He pointed at the screen. “They retreated like before.”
Aldus sank onto a chair. One hand clutched his chest.
“Put your mask on,” Trace told him. “We’ve got fresh air. Let me help you.”
“I can do it.”
He watched his father for a moment then pulled his own mask in place. Arms folded, he leaned against the hub and stared into darkness. He didn’t know how long he stayed that way. It was as if he’d stepped outside himself, as if time had stopped. Then his ears perked at a sound.
Aldus leaped to his feet. “They’re coming back.”
Trace looked at the sensors. He saw the creatures pull together to form a wedge, saw a larger blip move right for them. It cut a wide swathe as it barreled through and headed for the Lander.
“It’s all right.” Trace smiled. “The cavalry’s here.”
Holding the flamethrower with one arm, his father’s shoulders with the other, he walked to the airlock.
“I’m getting too old for this drel,” Aldus muttered.
“Well, I didn’t want to say anything.”
They stepped outside into the protected area formed by the sensors. Trace shaded his eyes from the headlights of a large ATV. It was so covered with moss and vines, it looked camouflaged.
The door opened, and Jane Delray, the meteorologist, stepped out onto the wide tread. With a flourish, she said, “Sirs. Your car awaits.”
CHAPTER 23
Impani stood in the entrance of the silent cafeteria. The room was nearly empty. Four men and two women sat together at a table. They glared when they noticed she was there and left in disgruntled haste.
She wondered if they had a right to be so angry with her, wondered what any of them would have done—leave Anselmi or bring him back and hope for recovery. After speaking with the doctor, she admitted that recovery didn’t seem likely. Still, if she had it to do again, she would not abandon him.
She carried a cup of water, a warmer, and a pouch of herbs to a table and sat with her face in her hands. Two days without sleep was wearing her down. But the worst part was that she knew they hadn’t made a difference. The mission had failed.
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the warmer and clipped it inside her cup. Moments after the electrodes touched water, the cup steamed. She dropped in the herbs to steep. Someone entered the dome behind her, but she didn’t turn, didn’t feel up to facing their scorn. She took the warmer out of the cup and tapped it against the rim. The red glow of the electrodes died.
“Hello, Impani.”
She spun about. “Oh, Trace.” She leaped to her feet and embraced him.
His arms slid warm and strong around her. She buried her face in his shoulder. Suddenly, she was crying, grief and remorse bursting from her in sobbing gasps. She wanted to say that she’d been an idiot, wanted to tell him that she was sorry.
But she said only, “I was so worried about you.”
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’m here, now.” He led her back to the chair and sat beside her. “I saw Anselmi. Give me the shortened version.”
She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “We went to the old settlement like you said, and we found out—” She took a deep breath to brace her words. “The moss creatures are the original colonists from ten years ago.”
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
She blinked at him. “You knew? How?”
“Cole,” he said as if that explained anything. “How did you find out?”
“We found recordings made by one of the scientists, watched her metamorphosis. It was horrible.”
“I’m impressed that she had the faculties to operate a recorder.”
“Actually, she was lucid to the end. She said the moss was the answer.”
“Moss?”
Impani nodded. “Something about ionized particles producing an electro-magnetic field—”
“Magnetic! Of course!” Trace blurted. “I was onto something after all.”
“What are you—”
“My science project. When I was a kid. But there must be something more, some way of distributing the charge.”
He stared into the distance at a place Impani could not reach. She swallowed her questions, suddenly certain that he would find the answers, that he would unravel the puzzle of this world. He was brilliant—and he had every right to be team leader.
Trace looked at her. “My dad said you took a sample of some sort of sludge.”
“I have it right here.” She pulled the specimen from her belt. But instead of the scraping she’d taken, the small container held a quantity of gray-green goo. “Ugh. Even sludge grows on this planet.”
But Trace’s face lit as if she’d given him a precious gift. He cupped the container in both hands as he examined its contents. “Put on your mask for a minute.”
He pried the power crystal from the warmer. Then he poured a thin, straight line of sludge upon the table. He put the electrode on one end and the power crystal at the other.
Impani heard a faint crackle. She saw a wavering blue current of electricity travel the length of goo. The electrode glowed.
He whispered, “The moss is the answer.”
Impani shook her head. “What just happened?”
“The sludge is like our blood carrying oxygen through our body. But in this case, it carries moss. The oily sap acts as both protectant and conductor, picking up particles of moss from the roots and distributing the charge throughout the plant. Electro-magnetic impulses stimulate the plant’s growth. It also shortens its life. How many generations do you think we’ve seen since we arrived here?”
“That must be why the plants are sentient. As time speeds up, so does evolution. Maybe all plants are slated to become self-aware in time.”
“That would be a problem.” Trace scraped the line of goo into a fresh container. “You think we’ve got a food shortage now. What will happen when the food starts fighting back?”
Impani smiled, her cheeks stiff with dried tears. At that moment, she felt closer to him than ever.
With a bang, a utility belt dropped onto the table before them. Impani jumped then looked up at Robert Wilde.
Wilde smirked as he sat on the edge of the table. “Thought you might want that back.”
Impani turned as Natica pulled out the chair beside her. She hugged her friend. “I’m so glad to see you. Did you get the injured colonists back to Central all right?”
“Yep.” Natica grinned. “All sixteen of them.”
“Sixteen? But you only had three Impellic rings. How did you carry so many people?”
“It was Robert’s idea.” Natica winked at her partner. “It about scared me to death. I thought for sure we would overload the rings. But he promised it would work, and it did. We each took five patients and put another six on Trace’s belt.”
“You came back.” Trace gaped. “They actually sent you back. Do you have more skinsuits?”
Wilde nodded. “I also have a message. The Board was so mad at you for not following instructions, they made me team leader.”
Impani’s smile fell. She touched Trace’s arm.
Natica said, “Arkenstone wasn’t angry. In fact, I think he was amused.”
“That’s because he won his bet.” Wilde laughed.
Trace slid off his mask. “All right. You’re team leader. I can live with that.”
Wilde said, “And my first official act was to declare this colony a total loss and order up a transport ship to get these people out of here.”
Trace’s face relaxed. He offered his hand. “Thanks.”
Wilde shook with Trace. “My next act is to return leadership to you. What have I missed?”
“Well,” Impani said, “we found out that the moss creatures are the missing colonists grown over by plants.”
“What?” Wilde yelped.
Natica covered her mouth. “But we’ve been burning them. Hacking at
them with machetes.”
“They aren’t people anymore, though. Right?” Wilde said. “I mean, the people inside the mold suits are dead.”
“I’m not sure,” Trace said as if to himself. “Cole remembered the code.”
“Cole’s been infected?” Natica asked.
“And Anselmi,” Impani said. “He’s in quarantine.”
Wilde looked stricken. “They got through a skinsuit?”
“He thought he could converse telepathically with a creature if he could touch it with his bare hands. When he did, the moss invaded his body.”
The group fell silent. It felt like they were mourning their friend, as if he were already dead. Impani didn’t want to accept that.
After a while, Wilde asked, “Did it work? Could he communicate?”
She nodded. “He said the plants didn’t understand friendship.”
“Voices,” Natica said. “He was hearing them speak all along.”
“Anselmi’s strength is telepathy,” Trace murmured, his voice far away. Then he seemed to snap to the present. “You requested a transport. How long before it gets here?”
“Three months,” Wilde said. “Top speed.”
Trace got to his feet. “I better tell my father.”
“Tell me what?” Mr. Hanson strode across the cafeteria.
Madsen whirred along behind him. Impani hadn’t heard them come in.
Trace’s gaze wavered, but his shoulders straightened. “A transport’s on the way. I need your people to dismantle the camp.”
“Leave?” Mr. Hanson boomed. “Just like that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I thought you were here to salvage the situation,” Mr. Hanson shouted. “I thought you were here to put things right.”
“But the colony—”
“My colony!”
“It isn’t working,” Trace said. “You know it isn’t.”
His father jabbed a finger at him. “I’ll remind you there is a food shortage.”
Impani got up to stand beside Trace. She sensed Natica and Robert do the same. She said quietly to Mr. Hanson, “There will be other planets.”
He glared as if waiting for them to recant. With a sigh, he sat at the table. “After all the plans, the expectations…”
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