Colony B Box Set

by Michael Campling

  “Sometimes you have to take a risk, Shiv. But keep your eyes on the prize. This could get us out of here. It could get us home—our real home. Earth.”

  “And if it’s not safe? If these people are dangerous?”

  Milo shrugged. “We stay out of sight, then we turn around and head back here.”

  “You promise? We’d come straight back?”

  “Of course. I’d never let anything hurt you.”

  Siobhan bit her lower lip. “And who would go?”

  “That’s the best part,” Milo said. He moved even closer to her, his eyes locked on hers. “It’ll be just you and me. We’ll be alone—away from this place for a while. It could be fun, couldn’t it?”

  “I guess.”

  “You’ll come?”

  Siobhan smiled. “All right, but not for long. Just to take a look, all right? I’m not doing anything stupid.”

  Milo punched the air. “Yes! I’ll get the suits. I’ll see you in ten minutes. Maybe sooner. Be ready. This is going to be amazing!”

  “Okay, but you’d better not stand me up.” She pointed at his chest. “If you leave me waiting out here, I’ll kick your ass.”

  “Don’t worry.” Milo took a step back. “I’m going. I’ll see you in ten.” He flashed her a smile then turned and ran into the night.

  Siobhan watched him go. Crazy, she thought. This whole thing is crazy. But a thrill of excitement ran through her veins. She hugged herself against the chill air, then she turned and headed back toward her house. She’d need to shut the door before she set off, or everyone would know she’d gone. And she’d have to be especially careful not to make a noise. She couldn’t let anyone spoil her fun. Just this once, she was going to do something for herself.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Hill

  IT WAS STILL DARK WHEN CALUM CREPT downstairs, but already his dad was busy at the table, packing a rucksack. Calum hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. Should he call out? His dad never liked to be disturbed at the best of times, and today he was so absorbed in what he was doing that he hadn’t even heard Calum come down the stairs. But maybe he could use some help. “Dad?”

  Connor stopped packing and smiled. “Hey, what are you doing up so early?”

  “I just woke up.” Calum shrugged. “I’ve got to go and see to the crows soon anyway.”

  Connor glanced at the dark window. “No, I reckon you’ve got plenty of time before sunrise. Why don’t you give me hand?”

  Calum grinned and went to his father’s side. “You know, you shouldn’t say sunrise, Dad. It’s not the sun.”

  Connor grunted and went back to packing his bag.

  “You’re taking a lot of stuff,” Calum said. “Do you really need that much? I thought you were just going to keep watch.”

  “Yeah, but we might be a while, and we’ll have to go right down to the wall.”

  Calum froze. “Seriously?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. We’ll wear full EVA suits. We won’t take any chances.”

  “Wouldn’t you be better off on the high ground?” Calum asked. “You could see farther.”

  “We have people up in the lookout, same as always, but someone has to go down and see what’s really going on out there. We have to get as close as we can.”

  “Dad, you won’t go over the wall, will you?”

  Connor hesitated. “Not if I can help it, son. That’s the last thing I want to do.” He smiled. “I’m really just keeping an eye on things, all right? A lot of standing around, that’s all. I’m packing plenty of supplies in case I’m out all day. I might need a lot of water, extra clothes—who knows?”

  Calum nodded, but he couldn’t return his father’s smile.

  “Hey,” Connor said, gesturing across the table to a plate covered with a cloth. “Could you put that food in a lunchbox for me—I’ll eat breakfast later.”

  “Sure,” Calum said, and Connor resumed his packing, stuffing the pockets of his rucksack with labeled glass bottles and anonymous bundles of cloth.

  Calum took an aluminum lunchbox from the shelf and uncovered the plate. His mom must’ve held some food back from the party because the plate was practically full, and Calum’s mouth watered. “Do you need to take all of this?” Calum tried to keep his voice neutral, but he didn’t quite manage it.

  His dad threw him a look. “You’re hungry? Take some. Just throw me in a couple chunks of root bread and a few long peas or something. I don’t need the meat. You have it, but save some for your mother and sister, all right?”

  “You can have meat too, Dad. There’s enough to go around.”

  “Fine,” Connor said, but he didn’t look up.

  Connor packed the food and sealed the lunchbox. “Do you want this in your rucksack?”

  “Er, yes.” His dad was preoccupied, bending down to adjust something on his belt, and when he stood straight, Calum gasped.

  “Dad, you’re taking a gun?”

  Connor nodded, his lips pursed. “Sonic pistol. Just a precaution.”

  “But you said you were only going to keep watch.”

  “We are, but we don’t know who’s out there. And we don’t know what might happen.” He paused. “It’s best to be prepared.”

  Calum hesitated, chewing his lower lip. “Dad, there’s no chance these new people might be from the other lander, is there?”

  “I’m afraid not, Cal. We’ve talked about this before. It’s best to accept it.”

  “So, maybe it could be some sort of rescue mission. They might’ve sent someone from Earth to find us. That would be great, wouldn’t it?”

  Connor shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, son, but it’s not likely. They would’ve come straight up.”

  “I don’t know,” Calum said. “Maybe they were worried. Maybe they wanted to wait until it was light and make sure they’d found the right people.”

  “I doubt it, Cal. But listen, whoever it is, they might just pass us by. We might never see them again.”

  “Oh.” Calum’s face fell. He stood in silence for a moment, thinking. “If they wanted to, they could come and stay here. There’s plenty of space on the hill.”

  “Space, we’ve got,” Connor said. “But food, shelter, fuel?”

  “We could share, couldn’t we?”

  Connor patted his son’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid, but everyone isn’t like us. Some people might want what we have, might even try to take it.”

  “I guess.”

  “There’s one way to find out. I’ll take a look and figure out what they’re up to. We’ll see what they look like and maybe we can talk. We’ll take it from there. If they’re friendly, there’s no reason why we can’t help each other out.”

  “That’s supposing they’re human.” Calum grinned. “If they’ve got eight legs, tell them we’re fresh out of new shoes.”

  Connor laughed. “There you go. I was wondering when we’d get one of your corny jokes.” He reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, but Calum ducked away.

  “Dad, Don’t!”

  “All right.” Connor fastened his rucksack and swung the straps over his shoulders. “You be good today. Look after your mom, okay? And don’t forget to see to the crows.” He patted his knife in its sheath, his gun in its holster and headed for the door.

  “I never forget,” Calum said.

  “I know. Anyway, I’ll see you later and tell you all about it. I’ll be back before sunset.” And then he was through the door and away.

  “Bye,” Calum called out. But perhaps his dad didn’t hear him because there was no reply; the only sound was a faint vibration ringing in the bare metal walls.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Hill

  CONNOR WAS ALREADY WALKING AWAY from the house when he heard his son call out. Damn! I didn’t say goodbye properly. But it was too late to go back now, he didn’t have time. I’ll make it up to him later, he promised himself. He deserves better.

  Connor scanned th
e silent houses as he strode toward the square. The settlement really showed its size when there were no people around, especially in the early hours before the dawn. The eighty-two ramshackle houses, all cobbled together from freight containers and parts ripped from the lander, looked small and ugly: more like an accident in a shipping yard than a village. Was this really his children’s future? Would they grow old and settle down here, raising families of their own to keep the place alive?

  Why not? It could be a good life. He thought of the baby born just yesterday, and young John and his partner Phoebe, enjoying the trials of becoming a parent for the first time. Okay, so Siobhan was going through a rebellious phase—that was normal, wasn’t it? And Calum was growing up fast. He took his chores seriously, and he’d be the first to check the crows after a thunderstorm. But at the same time, you could still see the sweet kid beneath the young man: he liked to crack jokes and make people laugh, and he was still close to his mother. Yes. This place had a future. And it was worth defending, worth fighting for.

  He didn’t know what he’d find, down past the wall, but he’d deal with it. No one was going to get past him, not today, not ever; simple as that.

  Connor picked up his pace, and soon he was marching into the center of the square. Good. He was the first one to arrive. It was important to be an example, to set the standard for the others. He checked his watch then clasped his hands behind his back and waited.

  Parry was the first to walk into view, with John and Finn following close on his heels. Finn was yawning and rubbing his eyes, but John and Parry were both bright-eyed and ready for the off. Connor smiled. Overnight, he’d fretted over his choice of team; there were plenty of others he could’ve chosen, including his patrol leaders, but what was done, was done. And these three, whatever their faults, had shown up on time despite their lack of sleep. Even Finn. That was worth something.

  “All okay?” Connor called out.

  “Sure thing,” Parry said. John threw a casual salute, and Finn attempted a smile.

  “Good.” Connor said. “Thanks for coming along, and I want to thank you all for last night.” He paused, looking at each of the men in turn. “I won’t waste your time with a speech. So unless anybody has any questions, we’ll get going straight away.”

  “Nope,” John said. “Let’s hit the trail.”

  Parry didn’t need to say anything, the glint in his eye was enough. But Finn raised his hand. “You brought your sidearm. You didn’t say anything about that. I didn’t bring mine. I think the damned thing’s flat anyhow.” He shrugged apologetically. “Una keeps moving the solar cell.”

  “That’s not the protocol, Finn,” Connor said. “Your weapon should be charged at all times.” He frowned. “It doesn’t matter now. I should’ve mentioned it last night.”

  “I packed mine,” Parry said. “Just in case.”

  “Yeah, me too.” John hooked his thumb toward his rucksack. “All charged up and ready to go.”

  Connor lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “Good thinking, guys. That should be plenty of firepower between us. Let’s hope we don’t have to use it.” He gestured across the square. “Let’s get moving. Finn, I’d like you to lead the way.”

  “Will do,” Finn said. “Are we headed straight for the container?”

  “Oh yes,” Connor replied. “And let’s pick an easy route—we haven’t got time for anything risky.”

  Finn narrowed his eyes. “The fastest route is pretty narrow in parts and there’s a crevasse to jump over, but it’s only a few feet across—is that all right for you?”

  “Sounds fine,” Connor said. “Lead on.”

  Finn hooked his thumbs under the straps of his rucksack and started walking, taking strides across the square.

  Connor flashed Parry a smile, then he followed Finn, hurrying to catch up. He heard John and Parry fall in behind him.

  In moments, they were out of the settlement and heading out across the rugged hillside. They walked as quickly as they could over the uneven ground, following Finn’s lead. And as they marched through the darkness, nobody said a word.

  CHAPTER 7

  Truck One

  A KNOCK ON THE CABIN DOOR. A muffled voice: “Doctor Teare, the pilots are ready for you now.”

  Lyndsey Teare opened her eyes and stretched out in her bed, triggering a sharp spike of pain in her lower back. From the fleet of six hover trucks she had at her disposal, she’d made sure her vehicle had the best bed, but even so, the mattress had seen better days.

  “All right,” she called out. “I’ll be there in a minute.” She sighed and pushed herself up, swinging her feet to the floor, and only then did she flip the switch to raise the external shutters on the cabin’s only window. Still dark outside, she thought. And she could see nothing, not even the huge hill which she knew from the map lay right ahead. Whose bright idea was it to call a meeting so goddamned early? She touched the light panel by her bed, and when its dim, yellow glow filled the cabin, Lyndsey stared at her ghostly reflection in the dark window, the image of her face distorted by the triple panes of thick glass. “There’s the culprit,” she muttered. “You and your big mouth.” And since she’d been the one to insist on this early meeting, she’d better not keep everyone waiting.

  She bent down and rummaged through the assortment of underwear on the floor. She had a small drawer for clean clothes, but that had been empty for as long as she cared to remember. She selected a pair of briefs that didn’t look too bad and slipped them on, resisting the temptation to check whether they smelled bad. What was the point? It wasn’t like there was anything she could do about it—not until it was her turn on the laundry rotation.

  She stood and reached across the tiny cabin to grab her regulation coverall from the hook on the wall. There was just enough room in the place for her to step into the garment, but as she pulled it up and put her arms through the sleeves, she managed to bang her elbow on the corner of the wall cabinet not once, but twice.

  “Goddamned broom closet,” she muttered while she fastened the zip. “One of these days I’m going to…” She let her voice trail away. What? What the hell could she do about any of this?

  “Not a damned thing,” she murmured. She glanced at her reflection in the window while she pulled her long dark hair back, holding her ponytail in place with the aid of a rubber band. She tilted her head and leaned closer to the window to study her reflection, taking in the wrinkles around her eyes, the permanent furrow in her brow. Those lines hadn’t been there when she’d arrived on this planet had they? No. Seven years, she thought. Seven years, five months, and…twenty-three days? Twenty-four?

  She frowned, deepening the line on her forehead. She could work out the number of days from the Earth calendar she used for her log, but so what? Did it make any difference? Did it matter? The company had changed the mission from three years to six, and when things hadn’t gone according to plan, they’d raised it from six years to ten. And then there was the time it would take to get back to Earth: almost four years in the hibernation pods. Am I ever going to see my home again?

  She pushed the question from her mind, then sat down on the edge of the mattress and jammed her feet into her battered combat boots. “There,” she said, standing up. “Like I just walked out of a war zone.”

  She put her hand on the door handle and took a deep breath. It’s fine, she told herself. Just get through the day. She turned the handle and swept through into the truck’s main compartment.

  The six pilots were waiting, all still wearing their dark EVA suits, and all perched on small metal chairs arranged in a circle at the center of the truck’s cramped interior. Truck one was the communications and data processing hub for the fleet, so although the main compartment took up most of the truck, both its side walls were lined with tall server cabinets and racks of electronic equipment; there was very little space for anything else.

  Someone had placed a seat in the circle for Lyndsey, but she stood behind the empty chair, h
er head held high. “Okay, status reports.” She looked to the man on her left. Alec Stevens was her deputy and as second in command, it was his prerogative to speak first. “Alec, what’s our operational status?”

  “Not much has changed since last night,” Alec said. “EM fields on all trucks are nominal, hover panel status is unchanged at eighty percent operational across the fleet, and active crew capability is within acceptable limits. Also—”

  Lyndsey raised an eyebrow and butted in. “Acceptable?”

  Alec’s mouth twitched before he answered. “We’ve had two more crew with minor symbiont burns, both cases caused by the crew’s failure to check their suits properly. They were decontaminated, and I’m satisfied we’ve contained the incident. Providing they pass their medical exams, they can both go back to their posts today.”

  Across the room, Kyrksen Gall pulled a face and tutted, but when everyone turned to look at him, he shifted uncomfortably, his hunched, angular frame made even more awkward than usual by the small chair. “This isn’t good enough,” he grumbled. “The crew are getting careless. Every time we have to clean someone up, we lose time and waste fuel.”

  “Losing time?” Blaney Ashwood chipped in. “Seriously?” He looked around the group, his eyebrows raised. “Can somebody remind Kyrksen whose idea it was to stop in the middle of nowhere because he saw a goddamned wildfire?”

  Alec leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Kyrksen. “Exactly! And I’ll remind you, Kyrksen, that the crew who got burned were only outside because you sent them to refit the terra-drones in the field. The drones aren’t built for recon, and you know it, but those people went out and did their best. They risked their lives, and for what? For your paranoid delusions and conspiracy theories.”

  Lyndsey held up her hands. “Enough.” She took a breath, flaring her nostrils. “Alec, no one doubts your ability to run the crews, but we’ve had too many burns recently. You know better than anybody how to get everyone into shape. Kick their asses if you need to, I’ll leave it to you, okay?”

  Alec sat back. “Yes, ma’am. Consider it done.”