Expedition Beyond
Page 31
“Well, guys, I would be the laughingstock of any unit. This just won’t work. You’ll have to go with us,” Mallory said with a smile. He called to Sergeant Crow, who trotted over with his rifle slung across his back. “I need two pens and some paper,” he told Crow.
“Yes, sir.”
Mallory turned back to Des and Mitch. “Okay, let’s assume you’re dead—because I can’t rescue dead men, can I?”
“You’ve got a point,” Des said.
“I want each of you to write a letter to your family, which I will personally deliver to them, answering any of their questions. But no one else will know about this, understood?”
Both Des and Mitch nodded. They took pen and paper from Crow and walked over to a rock outcropping on the sand, where they sat.
Des wrote:
To the best parents ever and my wonderful sister Kaitlin,
I am sitting on the most beautiful beach, with crystalline, turquoise water and gentle lapping waves. The land I have found is paradise, with abundant food and foliage. Mitch is here with me. Lieutenant Mallory wanted us to go back with him; it was our choice to stay.
I have met and married the woman of my dreams. Anastasia is a queen, a real queen, a ruler of fantastic people, and the likes of whom I have never met before! They have chosen me to be their king.
My only regret is not being able to see you again and be a part of your lives. But you will always be close in my heart, as I know I will be in yours.
All my love,
Des
“Switch letters?” Mitch asked when Des finished.
“Sure.”
Mitch’s letter read:
Dear Mom,
Miss you lots. I can’t call—no service.
Hey, got some news: I found a girl. She’s just like what you said I needed. She’s neat. I’m staying with her, okay? Stay cool.
Your son,
Mitch
Des laughed. “You’re supposed to write something more personal.”
Mitch grabbed back his letter and added:
P.S. You know I was never fucking good at writing. Good luck with the new man. I will think about you often.
All my love, Alicia.
“That’s better,” Des said.
When Mallory heard them laughing, he called, “Finished?”
“I guess so,” Des said.
Mallory sealed their letters in envelopes and zipped them into his breast pocket.
Des heard someone running toward them from the village. Anastasia appeared out of the fog with Alée close behind her.
“Des,” Anastasia panted, “the beasts return.”
Mallory began to deploy his troops.
Des told Anastasia, “Quickly, move the council members to Adeyo’s hut. Lock the children and elders in the museum. Get the horses out of the paddocks and the cavalry ready. Watch the river; they know it’s a weak spot now. Form three lines of defense, one halfway up the mountain to Sight Rock trail, one on the trail and one above that. War clubs and swords only; we don’t have enough darts left. We will hold them on the beach as long as possible, then we’ll fall back to the first line of defense. From there, we’ll feign a controlled retreat. When I signal you, have the second line charge down into them. The warriors will need to hit them hard, then the third line, too. Save the horses unless we are totally overrun. Understood?”
“Yes,” she said. She was gone.
Alée hugged Mitch.
“Go on,” Mitch said, patting her rump.
She ran after Anastasia, looking back only once. Mitch watched her until she disappeared into the fog.
A uniformed soldier ran past them and lay prone on the sand, then chambered the first round in his weapon.
Des unsheathed his sword.
“You’re unarmed,” he whispered to Mitch.
Mitch cracked his knuckles. “That’s what you think.”
They waited behind a large rock. Des peeked over into the fog; the sea was still. He strained for any sound, imagining thousands of beasts rising out of the calm sea, an indestructible machine that would destroy them all.
A splash. Then another. The splashing oars were a death-knell.
Des ducked down quickly.
The sound of the sentinel beast boat was getting closer.
Des tightened his grip on his sword. They must stop them here on the beach, no matter what the cost. Fight until death.
Des shook Mitch’s hand. “No retreat.”
“Fuck no.”
Chapter 46
“I smell barbeque, don’t you, George?”
“For once, you might be right.”
Sed laughed. “At least we won’t have to rely on your fishin’ anymore.”
“What’s wrong with my fishing?”
“Your fishin’ stinks!” Sed howled with laughter, lifted his oar from the water, then smacked it down briskly.
“Hey, you’re getting me wet!”
George removed his wide-brimmed hat and shook it.
“And your sailin’—where’d you learn how to sail? You’ve got the main sheet goin’ the wrong way.”
“Look, I’ve sailed with the best of them.”
“Ri-ight!” Sed giggled, popping the cork from a bottle and swigging. He passed it to George, who downed it all.
“George?” Sed asked.
“What, George?”
“We’re coming to land.”
“So?”
“So, how’d you know my name was George? Nobody’s called me ‘George’ for years. And here you come along and la-de-dah, ‘Hi George.’ I nearly had a heart palpitation!”
George looked at his dark companion at the bow of the dinghy and smiled. Sed had been good company over the past few months, and sometimes even riotous fun.
“It was just a guess, okay?” He hefted a paddle of water towards Sed.
“Hey, if you’re going to get me wet, take this!”
The boat bumped softly ashore. Sed splashed into the water and giggled when he almost fell.
“Looky here,” Sed said. “Houses. Where there are houses, there are people, and this time, I get to be the god. You always get to be the god.”
“Okay, you’re a god.”
George climbed out and somehow managed to stay relatively dry. Rope in hand, he searched for a place to tie-up.
“And don’t forget to bow down low when I tell you to.”
“I won’t.”
George found a large rock and looped the rope around it. When he turned, he saw a red dot appear on Sed’s chest.
Sed brushed at it, then wiped his brow. Another bright red dot appeared on Sed’s forehead and several more on his chest.
Sed raised both hands high over his head. “Don’t shoot.”
A man in Army fatigues, holding an automatic weapon, stepped out from behind a rock.
“Don’t shoot. Please don’t shoot,” Sed begged.
George saw more soldiers coming around from large rocks; another was lying prone on the beach. One man was walking towards them; he was lowering his rifle. Now George could clearly see the insignias on their jackets and the flags on their helmets.
Checking a photograph he’d removed from his pocket, the approaching soldier asked, “Are you George Barrington?”
George hesitated slightly, knowing things were about to change dramatically. He didn’t want it to, but accepted his fate. He thought that the past few weeks had been the best adventure anyone could have had.
“Yes...I am.”
“I’m Lieutenant Mallory, U.S. Army Special Forces. We’ve come to take you home.”
Bonus Content
Marooned Beyond
A Space Odyssey
The opening chapter from a new novel by Roger Bagg
/> * * * FLASH * * *
Naveta spațială americană Pacea s-a dezintegrat deasupra desertului Nevada la reîntoarcerea din spațiu pe 16:10:26. Astronautii sunt presupuși decedați. Aceasta este echipa: Capitan Richard Langtree pilotul, locotenent Bob “Sandy” Smith co-pilotul, Linda Jane Johnson Cargo Special, și Mary Jo Sievers experimentator. Nu au fost raportate alte daune la sol. Eșecul scutului termic a fost observat de către Centrul de Control opt secunde înainte de întreruperea contactului.
FOX Laser-Flash: Edit and send ASAP:
Американский космический аппарат распался над пустыней Невады в 16: 10: 26, не выдержав входа в атмосферу.
Астронавты – капитан Ричард Лангтри (пилот), лейтенант Боб «Сэнди» Смит (со-пилот), Линда Джейн Джонсон (специалист по полезной нагрузке), и Мэри Джоу Сиверс (экспериментатор) считаются погибшими. Никаких потерпевших на Земле не найдено. Несработавшая абляционная оболочка корабля была зафиксирована наземными аппаратами центра управления полётами за восемь секунд до полной потери связи.
美国航天飞机和平号在返回途中于16:10:26时在内华达沙漠上空爆炸解体。上尉里查德.兰特里（指挥官），中尉鲍勃.“桑迪”史密斯（副驾驶），琳达.简.约翰逊（任务专家）和玛丽.乔.西弗斯（实验者），四名宇航员遇难。地面无一人受伤。在失去联系前八秒，地面工作人员观察到飞行器的绝热材料反射涂层失效。
FOX Laser-Flash: Edit and send ASAP:
USA Space Shuttle Peace disintegrated over the Nevada desert on reentry today at 16:10:26. All astronauts are presumed dead. These are the crew: Captain Richard Langtree, pilot; Lieutenant Bob “Sandy” Smith, copilot; Linda Jane Johnson, payload specialist; and Mary Jo Sievers; experimentalist. No ground injuries were reported. A failure of the craft’s heat-reflection coating was observed by Mission Control eight seconds before contact was lost.
Twelve years later, nearing Jupiter
The United States Spacecraft Mayflower tumbled through space.
Deep in her hull, gravitational gyros slid on molybdenum rods and slammed from starboard to port, then back again. Others raced noisily from bow to stern, cracking loudly with each directional change like bowling balls striking pins.
The sound was barely audible three decks above, only a faint whisper. The flight deck’s central console, among panels of flashing yellow and red LED lights, displayed an urgent message, but it went unseen as the pilot and copilot seats were empty:
Structural Failure Imminent
A central digital clock flashed “Malfunction” before counting down from sixty seconds to zero for the fifteenth time before stopping.
Mayflower yawed.
A new message appeared:
Initializing Crash Sequence Override
The ship’s nitrogen atmosphere emptied into space and was supplanted by oxygen achieving a ratio of 79% nitrogen to 21% oxygen. Overhead lights switched on in quick succession.
Green lights glowed in nine columns on the starboard control panel. The first two vertical lines faded to dark, then each top position glowed amber, pulsed green, then luminesced. The next light below illuminated.
Aft of the control center, a twenty-five-foot corrugated metal incline led to nine Lifebridge berths. The first two hatches opened; steam emanated from inside. Infrared radiators heated each body as DreamWave massagers hummed mechanically. Pre-set intravenous infusion pumps pushed saline, then blood, through Nestling fluid-warming gloves and into neck catheters.
Alex Strauss coughed. The copilot felt the endotracheal tube being withdrawn and he breathed deeply, painfully. He knew he would be able to move in 30 minutes. Every muscle ached as electro-stimulators pulsed bursts inside his loose-fitting Tevlar uniform. Light-headed and physically weak, Alex concentrated only on his breathing. His eyes began to focus.
Mayflower lurched and the sidewalls of his berth collapsed. In the adjoining Lifebridge, Commander Danielle Hillscroft was thrown into a seated position, her fine long blond hair covering, then sliding off her waxen face. Expressionlessly, her pale blue eyes stared past Strauss, then she fell back into her berth and out of sight.
Warm blood continued to flow into his neck; ninety minutes would pass before the bag emptied. His fingers twitched as he stretched. He became aware that something was wrong. He felt intermittent hull vibrations pass through his body in bursts as he listened intently to a dull, distant cracking sound: the gyros. Alex lifted one arm and let it fall. The gravitational accelerators seemed to be maintaining.
Eventually he operated the bed’s control box to lift him into a seated position. Alex turned to look at Dani, who was sitting limply on the edge of her berth. Her hair was longer than he remembered. Her blue eyes were dull, her lips cracked, her skin drawn tight. Her white uniform was loose at the neck. She turned up her IV pump’s speed of infusion.
Alex was struggling to sit upright; his fingers wouldn’t bend. Head pounding, he gazed at her, helplessly.
“Trouble. The moly bolts are loose,” she told him weakly.
He found he was unable to speak. His skin felt tight around his mouth. Strauss studied his pump groggily, then thumbed the buttons to match the Commander’s infusion rate. He felt worse almost immediately. His stomach churned. Picking each leg up with his hands, he swung them over the edge, pushing aside the pain. He summoned his electric wheelchair. His IV bags were empty and disengaged by the time he was seated in the chair.
He toggled the chair’s control to drive to the top of the ramp.
Dani was already there in her wheelchair. She stared at him, looking concerned.
“Race?” he squeaked.
The inelasticity in her face prevented a smile, but her eyes brightened.
“Race,” she agreed.
They headed down toward the flight deck command center side-by-side as stars and Jupiter spun and tumbled outside the Eisenglass bow windows.
Alex realized that “trouble” had been an understatement, which was confirmed by the message board.
“Help,” Dani managed to say. She held a ball-peen hammer as she faced a 12x8 inch glass case. A roar from outside sounded like a tornado. What the hell? Atmosphere?
The glass window Dani faced displayed the words “SELF DESTRUCT” in English and Braille. She shattered the glass and picked away the remaining shards. Putting both wheelchairs in reverse, Alex and Danielle pulled out the three-pound switch, which dropped to the deck.
The control panel blackened.
A voice announced, “Sixty seconds to self destruct.”
The digital clock glowed, and counted down one last time in milliseconds.
Alex prepared for zero-g.
Sherry Gottlieb, master editor; writer@wordservices,com / Stacey Bagg M.S., NASA aerospace engineer, technical editing / Galina Siergiejczyk PhD, final edit /all rights reserved.